Life goes on against the backdrop of general insanity. We don’t stop breathing until it’s over. Meanwhile, we navigate the speedbumps and keep going. Despite all the madness, I still count myself lucky to have been born in this place and time. Having the correct color of skin helps too. Despite my guilt, it’s not something I take for granted. There but for a random twist of DNA in a random universe go I.
Anyway, all that to say, I continue to persist as best I can, aware that my safe White old person bubble could burst at any moment along with my front door. (Odds are low that ICE will come knocking, but so are the odds of a plane crash. It happens. As a news addict, I can’t ignore the videos of violence happening in Portland and Eugene.)
Meanwhile. I’m still processing the shock of my new existence as a housed person. Did I mention I almost had a panic attack? The strange reality of being housed is apparently so unsettling, my brain had to exit my body for a moment by way of mild hyperventilation. It was brief, and I was aware it was happening, so I was able to talk myself into breathing normally. I’m okay, but little vestiges of panic come up at least once a day, especially when I look at my toilet. For some reason, toilets are a symbol of safety, not sure why that is.
I sometimes shop for household stuff at Walmart, one of the least bad big box options. I feel guilty and demoralized at the idea that I’m abetting a mega-corporation that abuses its employees. However, I’m boycotting Amazon. And Home Depot. And now I’ve added Lowes to the list. Instead, I support WinCo and BiMart, both employee-owned, and I shop at Fred Meyer, a Kroger brand, because, well, Fred Meyer started in Portland, and I spent most of my pre-adult life in the Gateway store.
When I shop anywhere, my eye zeroes in on items I no longer need. I’m talking about butane canisters, bungie cords, and giant tote bins. Camping chairs, cheap tents, tie-downs, tarps. Shower tents, USB-powered water pump faucets, collapsible dishes, rolls of Reflectix, USB-powered lights and fans.
When I’m driving, I still note places to dump trash, refill my water jugs, park overnight, park during the day. If the sun is shining, I think, yay, time to recharge my power stations. If it’s raining, I think, bummer, now I have to recharge somewhere like Starbucks or the local library. If it’s cold, I think, how am I going to stay warm? If it’s hot, I think, how am I going to sleep when it’s 95° in my car?
Now I don’t have to do all those things. Gradually they are fading out of my brain, and I find I have a lot more time to do other things. For example, in addition to worrying about the state of democracy, I’ve started nibbling around the corners of my next book project.