I know what you’re thinking; it’s two weeks into the new year, you are way past due on writing about 2014, Rachel. Heck, everyone is just now ceasing from messing up the year when they sign and date things, if that’s not a clear indicator that you’re not on top of your blogging game than nothing is.
Oh, you weren’t thinking that? Well I was.
But alas, I am going to write this anyway. Truth be told, I’ve come to learn that I enjoy writing more than I do blogging- writing makes sense to me, it’s how I process and cope, it isn’t hard- blogging on the other hand forces me to do a lot of internet-y things that usually end in me wanting to throw my computer across the room. Am I old enough to become a Luddite yet? If not, am I important enough to have a HOBTH intern? Let me know if you think either of those questions warrant a ‘yes’ and then let’s talk. Continue reading “Better Late Than Never? A Year in Review: 2k14”
The card was kind of dumb if you ask me; it read: “Name the animal you most identified with before getting help for your problem.”
What are we, 12? I thought, but then again, I’d chosen this exercise for our discussion group, I really had no one to blame but myself.
“Come on Miss Rachel, you have to pick another one, that one doesn’t work for people whose problems are more about their cars breaking down than anything else.”
I wasn’t hurt, I understood where he was coming from, but I also knew he was wrong.
I hesitated. “I umm…well…I have had bigger problems than that.”
“Oh yeah, tell us then; if we have to share, you have to share.”
That’s fair. Continue reading “Me too.”
Alright, alright, alright, enough of you dear folks have written to me asking me my thoughts on Hannah Montana…err Miley Cyrus’ MTV VMA stunt on Sunday that I felt I really ought to address it. Truthfully, I have put it off all day, mainly due to the fact that I am about to defend Hannah…err Miley and that is not something I have ever wanted to do.
Sunday night, for those of you that missed it and/or are too lazy to click on the above link, Miley Cyrus, instead of personally accepting her MTV VMA award for her video Wrecking Ball, sent a 22-year-old (homeless? formerly homeless? this was never made clear) gentleman on stage to accept the award on her behalf and make a speech challenging viewers to join Miley in championing the cause to care for homeless youth in LA. On her Facebook page she encourages folks to donate with the incentive to enter a lottery in which there is a chance to win a trip to Rio with her. Continue reading “Miley Cyrus, an Ice Bucket and a Hipster Walk Into a Bar…”
Guys, we did it. Can you hear it? The cheers, the sighs of relief, the empty sounds of hollow closets. (That last one actually not true in my case, I still have a lot of crap to let go of before we’ll get anything close to an echo…baby steps, y’all.)
We made it through the March Against Excess. Thirty-one days of giving, complete.
Personally, I feel a sense of relief, new-found freedom and like I will be wading through piles of stuff for the next three months in an attempt to get them into just the right hands.
Continue reading “March Against Excess: Day #31”
“I’d be in first grade,” I told my executive director. “Like, say I was born the day I started working on Skid Row, I would have gone through all these big phases; I’d have cut teeth, crawled, walked, said my first words, dressed myself and then gone off to school, carrying a lunch box and learning to play dodgeball all in the time I’ve been here. It kinda feels like I grew up on these streets, with these people.”
“Rachel, you kinda did.”
Continue reading “I Grew Up on Skid Row.”
The worst line that has ever been used to ask me out started with, “You work with homeless people? Awesome. I met this bum the other day…”
“Bum?!” I hastily replied. “That’s reeeeeal nice, I bet you made him feel so special when you called him that…” And then proceeded to use enough colorful words to ensure we no longer had a ride home and would be taking a taxi out of downtown San Diego. (tact has never come easy for me.)
Now, I understand that, that word is often used in a way that is not meant to be offensive and to be honest, I think it’s used by some of the most well-meaning people, but this should not be. Homeless people are not bums. Homeless people are not junkies, crackheads, hobos or hookers. Homeless people are human beings without homes. Continue reading “I don’t work with bums.”