Holy Roller / Twisted Sister

Paula told me that she needs a payee because of her compulsive compassion.

"I'm addicted to random acts of kindness... with money."

She says that when people ask her for money, she just can't turn them down. It's too much fun to give away.

"I can give away $2,000... just like that." (She snaps her fingers, her weathered and worn fingers. It's less of a snap, more like a brush.)

Paula lives in the neighborhood, modestly. Very modestly.

"God doesn't give me enough gifts to share."

Her joy is so complete, and so completely immaterialistic.

"A $50 tip for a cab ride! You should have seen his face!"

But Paula, make sure you take care of yourself.

"What do you call a nun who falls down the stairs?"

"A... holy roller?"

"A twisted sister!"

She pulls out an envelope of $20's and counts them. And re-counts them.

"Paula, you should keep your money in your wallet."

"But I like to play with it!"

-

"Can you do me a favor? Call me a cab."

"Uh... seeya later, Cab."

"No, I'm serious!"

-

I can't help but think that Paula will probably be okay, by her own standards. She will always feel like she is doing okay. It's a strange thought, to think that she receives money from the government to help meet her basic needs, and she give so much of it away. I wonder, if anyone knew, if they would complain.

Why We Need Places

I visited a home yesterday, which is not something I do very often while working with a predominately homeless population.

I have known Vincent for a few years now--long enough to watch him transition from frequent nights spent in a parking garage, through the application for disability benefits, all the way to the receipt of his own apartment. I have watched one further transition as well: self-sufficiency to dependency; mobility to immobility. This was the reason I was visiting Vincent today: to deliver to him his food pantry staples.

5 pounds of oatmeal
A package of salt-free rice cakes
3 rolls of toilet paper
A loaf of bread
Gatorade
Green Tea

With all of his bland, flavorless food requests, I was not expecting to open his apartment door to such a colorful, stimulating studio.

The walls were full of drawings, gifts from other people, fliers and dried flowers, strange sculptures. Plants (and consequently, dirt) littered the floor, next to stacks of books, and palates of paint. It was truly a 'studio apartment'.

Seeing Vincent in all his glory made me consider the further purposes of having our own housing. We desire to be in all our glory, whatever that means.

Some people fill their places with art and color, like Vincent.
Some people fill their places with people.
Some people want to be surrounded by order,
Or memories
Or collections (anyone who has seen my closet knows all about this).

Some people want their places uncluttered, simple, almost bare.

But most people want to decide for themselves. To extend themselves into wherever they are the most.

Vincent now seems himself, when he's in his place, throwing his being all over the floor and the shelves and the walls.

Needs

The sign up list for the Referral Desk has two columns:
Name and Need
Both columns vary greatly from day to day.
Today:


Name: Need:
Natasha Everything
Carrie Nothing at all



Natasha came in and laughed at her own joke, and then said she really didn't have anything to talk about.
Carrie and I filled out a full FAFSA form.

You never know.

(Other endearing "Needs": Anna. Hugs. A million dollars. A girlfriend.)