My friends often describe me as a cynic and a pessimist. For the most part, they're right. Sentiment loses value when it permeates one's attitudes and behavior just as the value of a commodity decreases as it becomes ubiquitous, so as a rule I reserve expressing sentiment for rare occasions that I deem worthy. Fortunately, even the harshest cynics are surprised sometimes.
it is so quiet compared to what i was prior encompassed by. as my eyes adjust and my surroundings come into focus i see strange scribble upon unknown items. where am i and what have i just walked myself into?
from the church and replace the chunks with hand bones and go around wagging her invisible
As a kid, I never really paid attention to what blessings were, in fact, it didn't even cross my mind. I grew up in a small house, with my parents and my sister. We loved to walk around a lot and most of the time we would come across homeless people. It was like a routine of ours that we would always give back to the people less fortunate. I remember as I was walking one day with my mom, we came across an old homeless lady and my mom gave her 20 dollars. We were lucky enough to have that much change left after shopping for food and we decided it would be kind to give it to someone else, but this lady was very different from most homeless people. She had bright neon pink nails, gray hair that would create an ombré effect almost as if she got it done, she took the money we gave
Today, if we see a multitude of skin on the road settled, that there is nothing strange. In fact, according to The State of Homelessness in America 2013, 610,042 people were experiencing homelessness; as the result, we can see a significant number through that report. Due to that reason, many charities have been established to be able to help the homelessness. According to me, one of the charities that I appreciate is Thomas House which is an Orange County non-profit organization for homeless because it provide a safe, supportive environment and the resources necessary for homeless families with children while empowering them to become independent and self-sufficient.
As a kid I had always lived in well diversified areas. I didn't care who you were or what you looked like, I was raised to treat everyone the same. I wasn't personally exposed to the idea of inequality until I was in middle school. I had always imagined that everyone just had jobs and lived their daily lives. I didn't quite grasp the extent of the idea that people can die, be homeless, be criminals, or racists. I also didn't grasp how great the people of our society can be. That was until my parents told me about the first times they had in America coming from Mexico. I don't remember what I said or did to provoke these stories, but they were surely eye opening.
Jerry waves as he walks toward me, a cup of coffee in his hand. He looks cleaner than normal and wears a bright, broad smile. Today appears to be a good day for him. They weren’t always good days and sometimes it was hard to tell what sort of mood you’d be on the receiving end of. I have been running into Jerry off and on throughout the past couple of months that I have been working with the homeless outreach in my town. Sometimes what he said was meaningful and deep, with great clarity. Other times I could barely understand what he was talking about; it all came out as mumbles and gibberish.
There’s no need for a rubbish introduction to start with. I hate my bus, full stop. No strings attached. To be totally honest, there are no positives at all in this presentation. So if you are one of those people who think that there is a good in everything, I suggest that you stop reading this and continue with your life. Goodbye!
As a child, I grew up many places, my dad’s old job moved us around a lot. I was born in Hayward, Ca. and moved to Red Bluff as a baby and stayed until I was like 5 or 6. Then I moved to Taylor, Arizona and lived there until I was 8. I moved to The Dalles, Oregon and turned 9 shortly after, we lived at the very top of Oregon, right next to the Washington border. I could see Washington driving down certain streets, but by the time I was 10 I had been somewhat homeless. I lived in a car with my 3 other siblings and parents for a month or so. It wasn’t like it was horrible, we never slept in the car. We stopped at motels and we drove highway 101, because we were struggling and the beach solves everything.
What thoughts have I tonight as I walk emptied handed and no one to be arm in arm with as I navigate the LA streets. I envy the young man wiping out on his skateboard. Look at the concern on the young woman’s eyes. She looks on with a frown. Still, he makes her laugh with his imitation of the Zombie’s walk. How much happiness is contained in the rivulets of his blood that hardens along the shin of his wounded kneecap?
I woke up before the sun did. Sitting up in my bed, I sat motionless for a moment as the dim light of early dawn began to illuminate my room. Finally, I got up, heading over to the sink to get myself a glass of water. After extinguishing my thirst, I took a quick glance out my window, seeing the sun barely showing itself just beyond. It was about time to get ready for work. I grabbed my toolbox and loaded it with a small granola bar and a bottle with a bit of whiskey still left inside. I grabbed my light-gray collared shirt, my overalls, and a pair of ruffled pants. I picked up my black shoes and grabbed my hat off the coat hanger at the door. I turned the doorknob of my room and stepped into the hallway, locking the door behind me. As I headed
I want to be remembered as someone special. I want everyone to remember who I was. I want to be an actress, so I would like to have the legacy like most hollywood stars have, but not the infamous kind. I want to be remembered as someone who helped others. I don’t want to be the person who goes and spends their money just on fancy cars, or houses. I want to take what I have, and use it to help others.
As Greg blew into his saxophone, the sad song wafted out into the auditorium. He began to remember his past, his parents dying, him becoming homeless and finding a saxophone on the street and learning how to play it without no help, people throwing money in the bucket when Greg’s playing the saxophone. Thanking the man who heard him playing the instrument on the street and made him an artist, and making him the man he is today, the life he never expected. Going through all the incidents he went through his life, the bad times of him sleeping on the streets, no food, begging on the streets playing the saxophone. Greg is 45 today, it is Greg’s last concert and his birthday, he is dressed up in a black suit with a red tie, his bald head shining