III: Who's to say how you heard my voice?

A little groggy this evening from excessive chicken. It's been a weird few days.

We haven't had enough food around here, with a few extra meals being dumped on us and our ill foresight kept us from coping. Weirdly enough, mom hasn't been cooking for us lately, so we have to account for an extra meal, and dad was away all week, so there went wednesday. So we actually didn't have any food for tonight, given we hadn't defrosted the steaks. Mom got home from her camping trip and had to run a very special errand, and agreed, quite apparently reluctantly, to pick up a bucket of KFC.

Sometimes, you get KFC, and it's like, really good, gourmet almost, quality food... and then oftentimes, it's just sloppy, greasy, nasty poultry.

The errand she was running is a sort of unusual one, least of all for a landlady. I haven't really talked aobut this, but it's been one of the more serious issues around here lately. Sometime toward the beginning of summer, this girl moved into the room. It was one of those situations we got in the middle of accidentally, where Eric had a friend who knew we had a room to rent, and this friend had a friend who needed a room. Mom was eager to let this happen, as she would not be getting any income from a vacant room. Eric expressed a great deal of worry that this thing wouldn't work out and he'd have to be the guy who brought it together; sort of a mixing friendship and money type thing. I was skeptical to begin with, but when mom consented, I just figured, "Oh whatever, it'll be fine." The girl was promising to pay $100 per week. That was what I was skeptical about, and with good reason.

This young lady was a bit younger than me and not out of high school. She "couldn't live with her mother," despite claiming to have a close relationship. That all depends on how you look at things. I'm on very good terms with my mom, perhaps the best I've ever been as she finally sees me as a mature, trustworthy, responsible individual. But we don't talk very much, as per the living arrangements not forcing us to see each other that much. Th egirl and her mother apparently talk like friends, but when it comes to being a family... well, from what I understand, the relationship is a bit harried. If that's a word. I repeatedly heard how she "couldn't live with her mother." Whatever that means. I certainly don't blame the girl, but what kind of a woman can't get along with her own child to the point where they can't even live under the same roof?

Eric theorized, and I agree, that while most people do move out at about 18, it's with a sort of training wheels system... you live in Res, or in any case are on student loans and don't really have to work to support yourself and go to school and live your life. You don't just get tossed out there and expect to fly like a bird, you know? And parents have to impart that shit on their kids, those tools. So right off the bat, we've got major dysfunction. And the poor girl, apparently, she's never held a job more than 2 weeks. Shit dude, even I've got a better employment record than that! But whatever. In theory she could have possible lived her life onward, but anyways didn't. She didn't turn in more than one rent check, apparently, and as the weeks dragged on the more hopeless the situation came to appear. Mom constantly bemoaned how she had to get this girl out of the house after more than a month with no rent and nothing in sight. It simply wasn't going to work.

After weeks of hemming and hawing and "I'll be out thursday, no sunday, no wait I don't have a ride," mom managed to get her out and down to the homeless shelter, all her stuff remains here for now. Eric and I imagined a conversation with a shelter employee on the subject...

Employee: She just dropped you off? Wouldn't even let you live with her anymore? What a horrible woman!
Girl: Well... she was actually my landlady, not my mother...
Employee: Oh... well, what a nice landlady.

I know the shelters probably would rather people not live there, but at the same time they have to understand that people can't just be squatters, scroungers or moochers like that. If they want to not live in a shelter, they have to take steps to get their lives on track. Whether that means making peace with one's family (highly recommended) as they are the people one is supposed to be able to turn to, or else learning to take responsibility and work crummy jobs for enough money to live in a crappy place (like say, my mom's spare toom,) it is ultimately up to the individual to carve his or her place and function in society. We are both our own problem, and solution. Human empowerment, man.

I pumped up the bike tires and went for a long ride today. The bike is weird, because the air drains, but it can be sustained easily for the length of a round-Oakville tour. I should replace them, but I don't need to.

There was a time earlier in the summer, mostly June, when I would bike every day. It began to get depressing and routine, so I let my bike be for a while. I went back on my usual tour, up to Neyagawa & Dundas and back down via River Oaks... mostly because Oakville slopes down on the way back, it's not straight down one street (as if I were going to Wal-Mart or something,) so I can use multiple routes. Man, I got such an endorphin high, or whatever that feeling is when you get totally buzzed off physical activity alone. I hadn't really had much physical activity the pst month or so, although I keep saying "Maybe I'll go swimming on such-and-such a day." But who has the wherewithall to just go swimming randomly? I know it's fuckin' hot out, but the pool's only open for leisure swimming for two hours each day... not the bestiest window possible.

Plus, you should always go swimming with a buddy.

Anyway, I'm about ready to go crash. As you might imagine, it's been an exhausting day.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto