Chapter Ten: Dropping Out While Trying to Make Sense of it All

I took to living out of my car. It wasn't easy at first. I had major concerns about the lifestyle: the fear of being carjacked, how I was going to stay clean without regular access to a shower, how I would sleep in an economy car that obviously wasn't suited to be a camper, finding a "campsite" for the night where I wouldn't be ticketed by law enforcement [sleeping in your car is illegal in every city in Southern California except for Santa Monica-and try finding adequate parking there] or freak out the neighbors who might be worried that the guy hanging out in his car is plotting to rob them or go an some kind of murderous rampage or rape frenzy. All these issues would work themselves out over the next few months. I already had a job working part time at an auto parts store, so I had a small income to pay for food and gas.



Through time I decided that the minimalist lifestyle suited me just fine. It wasn't that I was lazy. I had worked long and hard hours before in the past. I had both personal and philosophic reasons for striving to survive while earning peanuts. Ever since I was a teenager it seemed to me that something was seriously wrong with the material society in which I was raised. Since government is a reflection of society, that meant there was something seriously wrong with our whole socio-political system. Earning just enough money to sustain myself while living out of my car meant that I wouldn't be earning enough to pay anything in terms of federal income tax that would ultimately be used by a government that wastes away our capital resources on terminally inefficient bureaucracies and unethical, legally unjustifiable wars. Not having any children to support and not being involved in a monogamous relationship meant that I had the privilege of choosing a life of poverty rather than work to support a government that is in the process of destroying the future of our country. Once I started living out of my car I started to catch up on a whole lot of reading that I had been putting off for so many years. Over the next couple of years I read over 30 books, all biographies and historical narratives. What I learned only strengthened my views of a society and government gone mad. From an essay titled "The Humanist Revolution" written by T.H. Huxley to books like "The Prize" by Daniel Yergin and "From Dawn to Decadence: 500 Hundred Years of Western Civilization" by Jacque Barzun, the observations of people much more intelligent than myself concerning the socio-economic unsustainability of the worldwide movement towards material based societies became vividly clear. I could go on and on with this argument, but I'll spare you the rhetoric.

Political philosophy aside, I had always been dysfunctional when it came to personal finance. The less money I had, the less money I'd waste. I'd be forced to align my financial priorities along the lines of bare bones survival. I figured that in the long run, the experience would do me some good. Eventually I'd have to get a job where I could earn more money and get a place of my own. Then, hopefully, I would've learned a thing or two about being responsible with my earnings. At least that's what I hoped.

Next up: Forgiveness and a Promise Kept.

Chapter Nine: Coming Face to Face with a Monster

I dreamt that I was walking through the old neighborhood. I recognized the houses; California bungalow style homes with nicely kept lawns and shady front porches. As I was passing by I noticed that there was a news bulletin flashing on peoples television sets. It must have been a summers day. The front doors to the houses were open allowing me to see through their screen doors and into their living rooms. There was a news anchor on the T.V. warning people that there was a sexual predator on the loose. A picture flashed onto the screen. The face was blurred out, but I knew who it was; intimately. It was an ogre, a stealer of childhood innocence, the demon that had been attacking the inner reaches of my psyche from the time I was assaulted--a monster in the truest sense of the word.

I then found myself riding in the back seat of a car. I was on the drivers side. I couldn't see who was driving. I looked to the left and out the window to see the same old neighborhood passing by. I wasn't alone in that back seat. I looked over to my right and there on the other side of the back seat was me, as a child, about the same age as I was when I was assaulted. Then I saw who was seated between us. It was the monster. I didn't hesitate. With my right elbow I started to strike the monster as hard as I could. There was a rush of bright lights, then I woke up. I felt great! It was incredible! It was truly as if a thousand pound weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I walked three feet off the ground the rest of the day and completely lost the desire to drink myself to death. It was a psychological catharsis.

I confronted my grandmother about some abuse issues I had with her from my childhood. She denied anything untoward took place then proceeded for about an hour talking about how abusive and imperfect her childhood had been. That told me all I needed to know. Although I was calm and straight forward with my approach on the subject the conversation freaked her out. She ended up kicking me out of her house, but that was fine with me. My stay had served its purpose. I had remained quiet for too many years. It was time that I came to the defense of my inner child since no one was there for me when I was young and vulnerable. I also confronted my mother over the assault. She also played the denial game, then told me that she never wanted to speak of the incident again. She became even more icier towards me afterwards. She started to treat me like my brother before he died. Her reaction spoke volumes for her character. I felt sorry for her, figuring that she must have been put through hell as a child to be passing along the pain to the next generation. At least she had my weak kneed father to be her dependent and satiate her desire for a life of distance and denial. It never gave her any happiness. She just became colder and more bitter the older she got.

Next up: Dropping Out While Trying to Make Sense of It All.

Chapter Eight: Falling

Not surprisingly, I fell flat on my face. I didn't know how to cope. I think I had a nervous breakdown, not a good thing when you're trying to convince a new employer that you can be a strong and reliable manager. I had only been working as a coffee shop manager for six months when I requested a month off to get my head straight. That was the end of my career with that company, only I was too stupid to realize it. I took the thousand dollars that my ex gave me for my truck [I had paid off about half of the 24,000 dollars that it had cost] and took back my old car [Toyota Tercel] that I had given her to drive. That way I would have transportation minus the payments. Then I went on a long road trip, zig-zagging my way through the California desert, Arizona and New Mexico.

I was ready to excel as a manager when I got back, but my employer would have none of it. It took them a month to find three bull crap reasons to get rid of me. I knew they were bull, I'd eventually appeal my application for unemployment with an administrative law judge who agreed with my arguments. I took my last check and small severance pay and took to the road again, this time winding my way through Nevada, Utah, Wyoming, Colorado, Kansas and Oklahoma before just about running out of money. I met up with a friend who was visiting family, and we caravaned back to California after a week long stay in the OK. With nowhere else to go I ended up living at my grandmothers house, which I wasn't all too happy about.

It was at her house that I was assaulted as a child. There were other instances of abuse, those at the hands of my grandmother, that made the house a much less than desirable place for me to rebound. In fact, I started to drink heavily. I gained a lot of weight and started to suffer from extreme depression. I told my friends at the beginning of my stay that the experience would either kill me, or I'd be better off for it. I was sleeping next to the bathroom where I had lost my innocence as a child. The memories were vivid; I could still feel what it was like to be assaulted and penetrated. It seemed like I was falling down a hole of despair from which I would never climb out. Then I had a dream.

Next up: Coming Face to Face with a Monster.