A chamber orchestra came to a theater a few blocks away from where I'm at, two tickets were gifted to me for being a volunteer, last night I brought a bi-polar, homeless alcoholic for companionship.
The day before I was strongly encouraged by one of the other women to go over to a church and look through their free stuff for homeless people, I did rummage through the old used stuff, I found a black & red & gold velvety brocade type fabric jacket. The jacket has one missing button, an abstract pattern of gold butterflies, and red roses. The same place had a pile of scarves, I grabbed a red old grandma scarf not realizing that it was an accessory for the jacket.
So last night, I put on my jacket and red scarf, went to art gallery with my companion and looked at encaustic paintings.
Then we went to the theater that (I think) auspiciously was beautifully red, black and gold inside.
The music was fine, my companion seemed to follow the music during the performance with her breathing, I think she enjoyed it.
Prior to this, just the day before, she had a tooth extracted. Her face and body language looks haggard most of the time.
I don't really want to become long-term friends with her, I think she may be dangerous somehow, but it was one good night.
The way she relates to me feels like an alcoholics anonymous meeting even on a Friday night out on the town, she can't stop talking about her challenge with alcohol and her fear that some guy is going to follow her home at night walking in the dark. Walking with her made me a little nervous because her fearful body language is an attractant.
Putting her faults aside and my faults aside, the nice thing was that she paid attention to the art more then I do, and I consider myself to be a creative type. Sometimes we appreciate life more with the help of other's ability to see.
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I truly live with a bunch of freaks, I say that in a cynical humorous but true way.
The young woman 24ish who is very thin 80-90lbs max (anorexic/bulimic) woke up this morning and started using a children's cake baking play-set that came in a cardboard box with pictures of a cartoon girl with pink hair on it for a logo. She was standing in the shared kitchen in plaid high-heels, a pastel apron while mixing sugar and dye for this kid's mini-microwave cake. She talks in a little girl’s voice. She had me smell the blue fondant cake mix.
I'm in my 30's and I'm wearing a used grandma outfit sitting here trying to find space for myself that doesn’t smell like fake cake and burning bacon, that doesn’t involve watching a stranger track dirt into an area I'm obligated to clean.
There is an older woman at the shelter that I don't like very much, she burps a lot, when she burps she vocalizes the burps into Bart Simpson like expressions. "buuurr--doo'oohhh" I'm not sure if she has turrets or what but sometimes I just want to tell her to shut-up.
I so wish I had a private office to go to (my own) not a job office but a different place.
I would have a desk for writing and an area for painting. I would have some plants in my office.
The floor would be clean, wood, there would be very little clutter, it would smell clean it would be sunny.
I would spread out all the papers I have on the desk and I would file them.
Not much else to say.
I woke up with an acid stomach, asked the other women if they get that also due to stress, only feedback I got was that it could be a sign of ulcers.
Mind went blank that is all I have to write now.