#signing over to a new internet provider = me thinking i could become homeless and ruined

[moderatelydelusional]

I get nervous doing adult things bc what if I do it wrong and I lose everything?

[dirtyfilthy]

The Betrayal Of Chelsea Manning By The Coward Adrian Lamo

I have only participated in “cancel culture” once that I can remember. Once, over the broad course of my life, and that was when Adrian Lamo sold Chelsea Manning out to the authorities. Motherfucker has the  sheer gall to call himself a hacker, and then rats someone out — not because of his principles, but from a constant desire for pure narcissistic supply -- and all this from a position of trust no less… 

I was real angry, and I wanted to put the boot in, any way I could. There was a special circle of hell reserved for people like Adrian Lamo… and as it would turn out, he was already in it. 

Amongst petty vendettas like stuffing his wikipedia page with all the well referenced dirt I could dig up, along the way, and kind of by-the-by, I ended up doing a lot of research on the guy, and then, well, the picture of Lamo that emerged… 

Jesus. 

He’s been a hardcore benzo addict since his twenties. If you know what to look for you can tell in some of his interviews, slurring his words and looking very spacey.  He never really had a real job, never broke into the industry he was aways on the fringes of. It’s kinda crazy, if you search for “homeless hacker Adrian Lamo” you can still see what the mass media thought of him before he turned in Chelsea. 

He’d kind of weaselled his way into popular consciousness by being a shameless self-promoter, and then managing to get caught in that spectacular “rebellious teenage hacker” vs. “huge faceless corporation” way that tends to capture people’s imagination. 

There were whole articles about him in Wired. Multiple in fact. Here’s one of earliest from 2004 (unfortunately now behind a paywall), “New York Times vs The Homeless Hacker”. The first few lines can still give you the gist, however

A self-styled security expert and serial self-promoter, Adrian Lamo made headlines as a grayhat hacker. Then the Gray Lady came down on his head. Not long ago Adrian Lamo was exploring an abandoned gypsum processing plant in West Philadelphia with two friends, when a police cruiser drove slowly by. Lamo’s friends were high on methamphetamines…

https://www.wired.com/2004/04/hacker-5/

Even during this phase of his life, a lot of people in the scene didn’t like him. At least, there were people complaining on hacker boards about him stealing exploits and then burning them for the publicity.  In the end he got off with probation and home detention, and that was the end of blatantly hacking into shit. Any more and he would certainly end up in prison. Attitudes were changing, the authorities had stopped seeing hacking as just high-spirited teenage hijinks. and the increasingly severe penalties could land you some serious time. 

After this, he just sorted floated around. He never got job in the industry like the rest of us, and I suspect he may have been  basically unemployable for one reason or another. The next time he popped up in my news feed was in 2010 with a strange article from ex-hacker turned journalist and friend of Lamo’s,, Kevin Poulsen — “Ex-Hacker Adrian Lamo Institutionalized, Diagnosed with Asperger’s” 

The first paragraph or so reads:

Last month Adrian Lamo, a man once hunted by the FBI, did something contrary to his nature. He says he picked up a payphone outside a Northern California supermarket and called the cops.

Someone, Lamo says, had grabbed his backpack containing the prescription anti-depressants he'd been on since 2004, the year he pleaded guilty to hacking The New York Times. He wanted his medication back. But when the police arrived at the Safeway parking lot it was Lamo, not the missing backpack, that interested them. Something about his halting, monotone speech, perhaps slowed by his medication, got the officers' attention

— (https://www.wired.com/2010/05/lamo/)

The article claimed Lamo had been arrested for acting strangely and then institutionalised, basically claiming the police had arrested him because he was autistic. At the time, I didn’t really give this a second thought, “oh well, ho-hum”. As itt turned out, this was a case of the most spectacular kind of “spin” I think I’ve ever seen; the only place the article actually intersected with general consensual reality was in stating Lamo had been arrested and placed on psychiatric hold.

The real story, which is entirely far more pathetic, was that Lamo’s family had become worried about his benzo use (“prescription anti-depressants”) and had cut him off. He totally lost the plot at this point and stormed out of house. Concerned about his mental state, and with fears for his physical safety, it was actually  his own family that called the police to try and find him. 

When confronted about this fairly massive discrepancy, Lamo claimed he hadn’t exactly “lied” as such, and had simply withheld some facts due to personal privacy concerns. 

It was at this point I finally began to see the whole tattered trajectory of Lamo’s entire life — trace the greasy path of his rainbow with my fingertips, and watch as the once bright twine became  increasing gray and frayed as each thread began to curve back towards it’s inevitable impact with the earth, when, at which point, everything important would begin to totally unravel around him.

At his core, Adrian Lamo was a narcissist, and so Adrian Lamo absolutely believed in the Adrian Lamo narrative, as only a narcissist can. Near of beginning of his tale, this was easy to do. He was a wandering Daoist sage, a renegade techno-monk character in a Neal Stephenson cyberpunk novella, and anytime he wanted to see his own reflection he could simply look in any of the major newspapers.  

After his arrest and release, the rest of the world moved on. His peers all settled down to well-paid industry gigs, and you couldn’t just pop the New York Times through an open proxy any longer — well, at least: not most of time, anyway. His own sword, never the exactly the sharpest in the first place, was beginning to show some signs of a serious structural rust. 

Without the constant assurance of people telling his own story back at him, what was he exactly? What did the mirror portray to him now?  An unemployed, semi-homeless drug addict, a hacker who couldn’t hack his way out of wet paper back with pick axe, the tired punch line to any number of bad jokes...   

Of course, the many similarities to my own life were not exactly lost on me. I was basically a case of being a few near misses and unlucky hits away from sitting in his exact position. I had made the transition to an industry career successfully, but I was still a drug addict with mental heath issues.  I had gone through my own narcissistic stage when I was younger, but thankfully grew out of it, the old moons no longer pulled on my tides the way they used to. 

The essential Lamo pattern had began to emerge. Still chasing the same bright stars that had long since sunk beneath the horizon line of the ocean; Lamo would begin to feel irrelevant —  Lamo would get then his name in the media in some fashion. A momentary peace was then achieved, then came a brief period of post-orgasmic. cosmic serenity. 

But of course, the wheel of karma will not stop spinning for anyone, and so, soon enough and all-to-quickly, the entire process of personal renewal, would have to, you know…..  begin anew.

A few other case studies were observed. An unreleased, permanently unfinished documentary featuring Lamo was mysteriously leaked on the internet. Of course, Lamo himself had leaked it. And there was always appearing on various morning television shows, Good Morning America, Fox News & the like.

But then the mother of all opportunities just dropped into his lap.

Chelsea Manning needed someone to talk to. 

Chelsea knew Lamo was Bi, so he was at least in the LGBT community. Adrian was a hacker too. He’d fought against the system in his day, he was certainly someone who would “get it”, she was very sure of this.  And when she did reach out, he was indeed very sympathetic. Honestly, it seemed like he really cared. Just a genuine human being, reaching out across the vast emotional void to provide a sense of empathy to someone who really, really needed it right now.. 

He was very sympathetic when Chelsea told him all about her struggles with gender identity, and he was very sympathetic when she said she was leaking gigabytes of information to Wikileaks…. But behind his sunglasses, Lamo eyes had already morphed into a marquee LED matrix endlessly scrolling his own name. Think of the news coverage!

This was big. This was very big.

It would, in fact, turn out to be fucking huge. Of course, within in the hacker scene, and to a certain extent, even outside it, everyone just fucking loathed him now.  Eventually even the news moved on, nobody wanted any more interviews, and in the end, when everything has already been all said and done: you are ultimately left with only yourself….

… a pathetic drug addict.  Of course, I have to keep telling myself that one point of intersection does not an entire venn diagram or an actual equality make. But I can’t shake the feeling that, perhaps, maybe we weren’t really all that different.  Maybe my own betrayals have had the simple luck of being a lot less public. 

Perhaps my own sins were just as ugly, but far less ambitious. 

Adrian Lamo died alone, from a drug overdose, in a private unit in an aged care facility in Wichita, Kansas.  He was 37 years old. An autopsy showed his kidneys were already failing. 

I guess Sartre got it wrong. Hell isn’t other people, it’s being left totally alone, with nothing else around but the tedious company of your own terrible self, and of course, the fucker won’t stop talking...

So obviously there was nothing more I could do to hurt Adrian Lamo, nothing that Adrian Lamo hadn’t done already. He had long since locked himself away in a prison cell of his own making. I do wonder if maybe one too many silent 3am’s hadn’t come crawling around the clock face when he was there & awake to witness it, lying in bed & staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about things.

Like I’m doing.

Shit, I hope don’t go out that way. 

[itallcomesdown]

Cloud 9s

The waves, ever so gently colliding into one another as they collapsed onto the beach, provided the perfect soundtrack to Nicky's breakdown.

Not too loud, not too harsh.

Soft and low like the tears running down her cheeks.

This wasn't Nicky’s first time weeping at the edge of the ocean. In fact, she was well into the double digits at this point and likely to hit triple before she closed out her third decade.

The first time she made the short drive to the shore for the express purpose of crying, she'd felt a little ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with her bedroom but something drew her to the drama of grey skies and sea breezes.

That's one of the perks of living by the water, depressive episodes seem more cinematic.

Today's helping of woe was served up by a call from her mother which, if you read a transcript, should have been totally normal but was, as always, specifically designed to destroy her.

"Darling."

Nicky cringed but replied sweetly. She could only hope to survive by mirroring her mother's tone.

"Darling, I'm so glad to hear from you. Your father and I do worry so much."

The first blow.

What was there to worry about? Her parents had checked in with her twice a week, every week, for years and Nicky had never shared even a passing comment that would indicate she was anything other than perfectly happy.

Now, was she? No, of course not. She was regularly crying by herself at the beach, but her parents didn't know that. Nobody knew that.

Nicky gave the verbal equivalent of a hand wave as a response. Life was all sunshine.

"Are you sure? You don't sound well."

She sounded the same as she had sounded the last time her mother had insisted that she'd sounded unwell. The same as all the times her mother had insisted she’d sounded unwell which was every time they spoke.

Another spoken hand wave. The salty air was in her throat, nothing more.

"I did say when you decided to move up there that the sea air would be bad for your lungs."

Lungs! How had this become about lungs? Last time it was "something something, microscopic sand particles are lacerating your vocal chords".

Nicky couldn't get the image of sliced, white bands out of her dreams for a week.

"You need to see someone or it will get worse. I'll speak to Dr Kline and see if she knows anyone you can go to down there."

Why?! From 16 words spoken over a patchy internet connection, her mother had decided that intervention was necessary.

Nicky’s chest tightened as she made a mental note to avoid clearing her throat for the rest of the call lest it fan the flames in her mother's mind. She kept her voice even in her response but made sure to not attempt firmness as she insisted that she was fine. Resistance only strengthened her mother's resolve.

"Jerry, remind me give Marsha a call tomorrow about Nicky's lungs."

Nicky imagined her father, somewhere off camera, giving a silent thumbs up to his wife.

Marsha Kline was not a doctor of medicine. She was a wonderful woman and a very accomplished professor of art history who had been friends with Nicky’s mother for longer than Nicky had been alive. Dr Kline was also very convinced that western medicine was a death cult and any medication not administered in tea form was bad for you.

"Don't roll your eyes, Nicky. I'm only doing my job as your mother. Someone has to look after you."

Blow 5?

The subtle difference between "out for" and "after" in a sentence like that would go unnoticed by most, but Nicky had been playing this game with her mother for all of time. Her mother used "out for" when referring to all adults except Nicky.

Now, you might think that's totally reasonable. Mother's always look after their children and that doesn't mean the semantic difference is some kind of dig. Except Nicky was the oldest of three children and the only one who her mother felt needed looking after.

"You did roll them, Nicky. I'm not going to argue, but you did. I used to be able to hear it in your voice over the phone but now that we are on Soom I can see it."

Nicky bit her tongue and tried to keep her jaw relaxed.

Where had the call gone wrong this time?

She should have suggested the call to Dr Kline herself. That way her mother wouldn't have been primed to fight about it.

At least this time she let "Soom" slide.

"Anyway, your sister and I had a lovely chat yesterday. The boys are doing great, she and Pat are looking really lean with the marathon coming up. Have you spoken to her?"

Marriage, children, weight. The self-esteem trifecta, all in one beautifully benign sentence. Nicky almost admired the efficiency.

Claire should have been born first. She was third in birth order but seemed to have decided from an early age to reach every available milestone before Nicky could make a meaningful attempt.

"You really should talk to her more. And James. Both of them really worry about you."

At this point, Nicky had accepted that she would be going to the beach as soon as the call was over. Why waste a day or two trying to hold it together when all she would be thinking about is the family meeting she hadn't been invited to where everyone did the sad head tilt as they talked about her.

"James is always saying he's happy to have you if you need somewhere to stay."

Somewhere to stay.

Nicky had a perfectly lovely apartment with her own office, a parking space and a gorgeous view but because she didn't have a mortgage, her family talked about her as if she was homeless.

"It doesn't have to be long term. Just until you're on your feet"

Would this be after her newly signed 2-year lease or would James buy that out for her?

"I'm sure he could afford it."

He probably could.

"You don't have to. I'm just putting it out there so you don't feel stuck and alone."

If Nicky had to pick a title for her autobiography, it would be "Stuck and Alone". Even at work where everyone was different from each other, she felt completely out of place. Like a puzzle piece you jam into the wrong section because it looks like it should work but when you take it in as part of the picture, something's off.

"You said you would think about it last time. I know you, you're stubborn but now is not the time for stubbornness. People are trying to help you."

The hardest part about these calls would always be having to defend her contentment when it seemed like everyone else thought she was drowning. Nicky wasn't sad about the life she had built for herself. She was sad that it seemed too small and pathetic for those she loved.

"Just call your siblings. If you've lost their numbers, I'll send them to you. Jerry, remind me to send Nicky the numbers."

Nicky sometimes distracted herself by imagining her father as a sort of humanoid smart speaker with steely mesh for skin, warm glowing eyes and a permanently erect thumb that shone green when a command had been accepted.

The speaker was called Greymax and it always made Nicky smile.

"What's funny? I know you think I'm a silly old woman so you might as well let your laugh out."

Nicky exaggerated her eye roll and sighed. It broke the tension and they both chuckled a bit but they probably couldn't tell you why. Sadness lingered behind both smiles.

"Anyway, nothing to report on this side since our last chat so I'll let you go. I'm sure you have lots of work to do for your fancy new show."

Nicky performed pleasantries with her cheek between her teeth.

It took her less than twelve minutes to reach her usual spot from the end of the call, a personal best, and less than twenty seconds to achieve full body sobs, another personal best.

The actual crying wasn't particularly intense on this occasion. Hard crying just added physical hurt to the emotional despair.

One time, she had attracted the attention of a couple of youths on what looked like a first date. They were shy and gentle but visibly concerned. Nicky was mortified.

From then on she sat in a partially enclosed opening on the side of a sheer rock face and avoided excessive wailing. Sometimes she'd get a curious bird or a tiny crustacean but, for the most part, human contact had been limited to surprised stares.

The time on her phone told her that she had been out there for twenty minutes. That was more than enough for one day and should tide her over until the following week if everything stayed calm at work.

Nicky imagined herself, in another universe, choosing to jog through her inner anguish. Smartphone strapped to her upper arm, smartwatch keeping track of her movements and bluetooth earphones delivering alternate universe pop into her ears. Was that worth a try?

Imagination Nicky was exactly as good at her job and bad at relationships, she just had a comfortable pair of running shoes. That was totally attainable but Real Nicky had always resisted. Crying sucked but it was cleansing and felt natural. Running felt like someone else's thing that she was putting on to prove a point.

When Nicky got back home, she ordered an inexpensive but well reviewed pair of running shoes. The product description painted a vivid picture of how impossibly soft these shoes were, at a fraction of the price charged by other brands. Confirmed buyers wrote formulaically about never needing another shoe again and buying pairs for friends. Nicky never read any of that though because she chose them exclusively for the price and availability for next day delivery.

The shoes arrived but remained in their box for days. Nicky passed them every time she entered her bedroom, making a mental note to try them on, even if only to check the fit, but quickly forgot.

Her mother's next call came and went without incident. A neighbour had to be hospitalised and their pet's needed a temporary home so the entire call was consumed by intro to the pup and solemn predictions regarding the neighbours fate. The prognosis was pretty good but Nicky's mother was certain big pharma was gunning for him. Dr Kline had been consulted, of course.

Teas had been ordered and special instructions repeated in hushed tones but the call was fine. 

Nicky was fine.

Usually, the down time between calls was a safe zone where Nicky could stock up on the mundane joys of life but the shoes had been ordered so the universe needed to make sure they were used.

James sent a picture to the group chat. Two little lines on a white stick. Congratulations all around. Wonderful news!

That evening the phone rang.

"I'm trying to convince your brother to move into a bigger house so there is room for you and  the baby but Ryan is acting as if I've gone crazy. Can you believe it?"

Nicky finally got to the beach after an hour and a bit. Turns out the shoes really were baby clouds with laces, but it's hard to run when your chest is heaving.

Next time she would have to drive to the beach, then cry while running. 

Fewer witnesses and, again, more cinematic.

[orbemnews]

Why Your TV Spies on You This article is part of the On Tech newsletter. You can sign up here to receive it weekdays. We are working, learning, staying in touch and being entertained through screens. But the companies that make those devices don’t have it easy. And that makes our virtual lives creepier and less fulfilling than they could be. It’s been true for years that for many companies, it’s tough to make money from selling smartphones, personal computers, television sets, streaming TV boxes like Roku and video game consoles. It takes a lot of expertise and cash to efficiently make complex electronics, and it’s a constant fight to beat competitors on price and catch shoppers’ attention. The dynamic creates two paths for the consumer electronics that many of us rely on. One is for gigantic companies to take over and crowd out everyone else. The other path is for companies to become money grubbing monsters. Either way, it’s not great for us. It was barely a blip for most of us, but last week the Korean electronics giant LG said it might stop making smartphones. LG was for a long time one of the top phone sellers in the world. Now it’s not. LG made many mistakes, and rivals like Apple, Samsung and Huawei overtook it. But it’s also true that there’s no room for relative minnows in many categories of consumer electronics. Not too long ago, there were still lots of companies making smartphones, PCs and some other categories of devices like fitness wearables. HTC gave up on smartphones. Sony mostly ditched PCs. Remember Jawbone? Dead. Fitbit is owned by Google now. These gadget categories and more only have room for whales. Consolidation is natural when any product goes from the hot new thing to mainstream. I promise you that I’m not nostalgic for old smartphone companies. (Well, maybe I’m still misty-eyed for Palm.) But I know that we lose something when companies with fresh ideas in gadgets have little chance and don’t bother to even try. And my bigger worry is that the difficulties of making it in hardware are nudging gadget sellers to do yucky things to us. Popular brands of TV sets keep track of what we’re watching and report it to companies that want to sell us new cars or credit cards. (Yeah, it’s gross.) One reason they do it is that selling personal information is pure profit, whereas selling you a TV set is definitely not. Roku also makes its real money not from selling its gizmos that connect our TVs to streaming apps, but from its side gigs including its troves of information about what we watch that it uses to sell ads. You can think of these consumer electronics companies as basically Facebook that happens to sell us the screens, too. I don’t know about you, but that makes me feel less affectionate about my marathon sessions of “Cobra Kai.” Microsoft a few days ago announced — and then quickly backtracked on — a steep price increase for its Xbox online video game subscriptions. The price increase was a bone-headed move, but it also reflected the harsh reality: Selling Xbox video game consoles generates relatively slim profits for Microsoft. Add-ons like online subscriptions are more profitable. Business & Economy Updated  Jan. 25, 2021, 12:59 p.m. ET I don’t want to exaggerate what’s happening. In some areas of consumer electronics, there are still plenty of new ideas flourishing. Don’t shed any tears for Apple and its piles of cash. But mostly, hardware is hard. And that makes things tougher on us, too, at a time when we need our gadgets more than ever. TIP OF THE WEEK Three must-have apps for every smartphone Brian X. Chen, the personal technology columnist for The New York Times, tells us the essential apps to download now. The most downloaded apps today include TikTok, Instagram, Facebook and Netflix. Left off the most popular lists are a few staples that every smartphone needs. Here are my top three: 1. A password manager. The rule of thumb is that each password you use should be unique and complex. But it’s impossible to do that and remember them all. Password-management apps like 1Password and LastPass solve this problem. They let you store all your passwords in a digital vault that can be unlocked with one master password. In other words, you only need to memorize one password. The apps also include tools to automatically generate complex passwords for you. 2. An ad blocker. Many online ads are loaded with scripts that collect your personal information and suck up your phone battery; some even contain links to malware. Until the ad industry comes up with a better way, our best bet is using an ad blocking app like 1Blocker to prevent ads from loading in the web browser. Some see ad blockers as problematic because they can drain revenue from websites. But many of the apps let people select their favorite sites and unblock those ads. (For Android users: Google doesn’t allow ad blockers to be downloaded through its app store. To install the apps you will need to use a method known as sideloading.) 3. An encrypted messaging app. Our online conversations should be no one else’s business. That makes encrypted messaging crucial. Here’s how it works: When you send a message, it becomes scrambled so that it is indecipherable to anyone but the intended recipient. If anyone else, including a government agency, wants to see your messages, no one — including the app provider itself — can get access to the unscrambled messages. For years, my favorite encrypted messaging app has been Signal because of its excellent privacy safeguards. Before we go … The largest unionization effort at Amazon: Workers at a company warehouse in Alabama are scheduled to vote next month on whether to unionize. My colleagues Michael Corkery and Karen Weise detail what both Amazon and some of its employees want, and how this union campaign is connected to poultry processing plant workers. Getting more children online fast: New York officials said it would be “impossible” to quickly install Wi-Fi in homeless shelters for students to participate in online classes. Some shelter operators have proved them wrong with imperfect but functional internet gear, The Times’s Andy Newman writes. Black, deaf and extremely online: On TikTok and other apps, young people are drawing attention to Black American Sign Language, a variation of ASL that scholars say has long been overlooked, writes my colleague Allyson Waller. Hugs to this Baby owls! In a bucket! Don’t miss the little ones that need a nudge on the rump. (Thanks to my colleague Sandra E. Garcia for tweeting this.) We want to hear from you. Tell us what you think of this newsletter and what else you’d like us to explore. You can reach us at ontech@nytimes.com. If you don’t already get this newsletter in your inbox, please sign up here. Source link #spies

[runionnayrb]

How to Move and Do What You Want

When I was about nine years old, my parents decided to move my family of six across the country from Placentia, California to Hot Springs, Arkansas--quite a different place for anyone making the transition, but definitely for a nine year old who didn't exactly understand what was happening when my parents first told me about the move. It seemed exciting and new, so of course, I was happy to be on the road trekking 1600 miles from what I called home. For most of my childhood as an Arkansas resident, after the "honeymoon phase" of it all faded away, I loathed having to be there. So much, in fact, I promised myself to move away from Arkansas because it didn't have what I really wanted: a big city, the hustle, and bustle with all of the sounds and people it had to offer. Don't get me wrong, my childhood was fine. I didn't experience anything out-of-the-ordinary (other than southern accents, Republicans, and crazy Christian people who would try to scare me into following Jesus Christ).

All of that aside, I moved back to California when I was nineteen years old with my car full of stuff and a huge heart full of ambition. I wish I could say I had help from friends and family to aid in my journey to become my own person, but unfortunately, I didn't come from a well off family with even an ounce of being close to being a wealthy family. What we had was for necessity and everything extra was up to me to provide for myself including my car, cell phones (when they came around), gas, food money, etc, etc. I learned to work for what I wanted and that it wouldn't be handed to me like some more fortunate people. I feel like my having to work to provide for myself created the drive I have today to make it happen, no matter what blocks me from getting there. Just ten short months later, I made the difficult decision to move back to Arkansas on the last few hundred dollars I had. It was a combination of not having enough money to do anything except go to work and back, being lonely, and feeling hopeless. My time there from July 2009 to May 2010 taught me so much about myself, my limits and what I wanted to do, or rather what I didn't want to do and how to evaluate who I was as an individual. I still had a lot to learn and still do even today.

When I arrived back in Arkansas, I decided to give myself a fresh start in a different city other than where I had grown up and gone to school. I really disliked living in Hot Springs--it is a small tourist town where people get stuck there; they don't leave. I didn't want to be one of those people. After moving, I didn't feel like a failure deciding to move back because I wasn't in a position where I had to move back like I was homeless or about to be evicted. It was a choice. I took a pretty decent job as a manager at a local fast food chain and got my own place. I began to work a lot of hours. After a few months, I decided to leave the job due to the long days and lack of compensation to make up for the job.

I took a series of several serving jobs over the next few years until, in 2011, my car stopped working--it literally broke down at a stop light and I had to push it off the road. With no way to get to my job, which was at least 5-10 miles away from where I lived, I had to quit the job and find something closer to me. Luckily, I was positioned quite well to succeed. My apartment and the new job I found, which was a local coffee shop that also served a full breakfast and lunch menu, had everything I needed in between. The grocery store, bank, and gym were all in between my 10-15 minute walk from home to work every day. I lucked out! I continued to work at the coffee shop for about a year. Coming up to the end of working there, I had gone to a local car dealership, which was also near my apartment, to see if I could afford to get a used car to be able to get around easier. My mother was gracious enough to help me co-sign for the car. I had a car again, a newer car, probably the best car I had every owned up until this point in my life. Over the past few months, I had really started to resent my job, mostly because of the lack of joy I was getting out of going to work early each morning or staying late at the end of the night. The owners weren't as supportive in the operation of their business as I had hoped or maybe I just didn't see their support for what it was. Either way, I really wanted to go back to school since I wasn't able to continue school while living in California. I owed a few hundred bucks to the school because I didn't take enough hours to make me eligible for financial aid, rendering the costs as out-of-pocket, which I definitely didn't have at the time. My account was put on hold and there I was.

So, I worked my ass off to pay off the fees to get my transcript released so I could transfer to a school nearby, get my financial aid up and running again and go back to school. I worked hard, picking up hours, staying late, anything I could to make extra money to pay off the fees. I was finally able to pay them off in April 2012. I registered for full-time summer classes and made straight As--something I had never done up until that point. The classes I took replaced low grades with higher grades to raise my GPA and then I transferred to The University of Arkansas at Little Rock where I graduated in May 2016 with a Bachelor's in Theatre Arts.

In the last year of my undergraduate studies, I was contemplating what I wanted to do after school. As a stage manager, I knew I wanted to pursue a career in stage management, but I didn't quite know how to go about it. I wrote my mentor and chair of the department to help me through the process. He guided me to several professional internship programs and graduate school options. The longer I began to research the two very different options, I was led to pursue grad school more eagerly than the other. I still applied to a few internships and got calls for interviews--after I had already been accepted to grad school. I was accepted into The University of California, San Diego for their Masters in Stage Management program. It is a huge honor and very competitive program. Some days, I still cannot believe I'm in grad school.

Once my wife and I knew we were moving to San Diego, we had 6 months to save money, sell things, pack things, figure out our moving situation in order to get out to San Diego and find a place to live once we arrived. Because I am really great a budgeting and saving money, I created a budget and found places for us to cut and how to maximize our earnings so we could have some money set aside for us once we got to San Diego. We used a moving company called U-Pack, which is a place where you pack your stuff into a trailer or cube and the company ships it to wherever you are moving. We saved over $1,000 using their service. We were able to use those savings to go towards our fuel, food, and lodging.

The lessons I've learned from the time my family moved from California to Arkansas are embedded in my personal skills, a knack for budgeting, and go-getter attitude. Those experiences are what shaped me to be able to go after what I really wanted to do in addition to my parents and family being supportive about what I was dreaming about. You can move and do what you want, too! Take a look at some tips below for how to get started. To learn more about my tips or to get advice, feel free to contact me!

5 Quick Tips to Help Make Your Move Successful!

1. Planning is essential in order to make a successful move.

If you are thinking about moving to a new place, especially to a place where the cost of living is considerably higher, creating a plan for how, when and who will be coming along with you is essential to making your move as smoothly as possible.

When planning, figure:

the difference in your income where you are now and where you will be moving,

the difference in cost of the expenditures you currently have and what they will be in your new destination, especially rent, parking, insurance, and fuel cost. Most other costs won't be affected by much. Even the items I listed may not be affected at all.

Plan your spending habits in order to maximize savings. Saving money is hard enough, but when you are trying to move, you have to go into survival mode. Think about anything you have in your budget that is extraneous and is unnecessary such as a Spotify premium account, Netflix, the best level of the internet, going out to eat, etc. Many of these things seem like must-haves these days, but hearing/watching commercials or eating out are not things you need. If you really want to save money, you'll have to sacrifice the small things to save big!

How are you going to move your stuff? Are you going to get an old-fashioned Uhaul and make stops as you go? Are you going to fly and ship your stuff? When my wife and I moved across the country, we were asking ourselves the exact same question. We ended up going with upack, a great company that will ship your stuff for you after you pack the items by either drop-off or pick-up.

See more in "Budgeting can maximize your savings" into the right places below.

2. Researching will give you insight and smart decision-making.

Take some time to research where you want to move. Start with where the city is located. What other cities are around it? Is there a hot tourist attraction around? What's the weather like?

Look into the cost of living by doing a basic Google search. Be sure to look at rent, utilities, fuel, groceries, transportation, etc.

Does your new city have public transportation? Is it good? Is it affordable?

What do people on forums like trip advisor, yelp, google maps, and other third party websites say about the atmosphere and condition of the city?

3. Make a list of goals.

Goal setting is one of the most valuable assets you can have when planning a move.

How much do you want to spend on moving expenses?

How much do you want to save?

How much to you need to save?

When do you want to get certain moving goals done?

Do you want to get rid of unwanted stuff? If so, how will you do it?

Make realistic deadlines for you to reach your goals. If you know you are unable to save $5,000 in six months, don't make it a goal. Maybe you can save $500 in six months. That's ok.

Making goals can really bring the process of moving into perspective in terms of whether it is feasible for you in 6 months or a year from now.

4. Budgeting can maximize your savings into the right places.

Figure out how much money you're bringing in then figure how much money you are spending, not including credit cards. Once you figure those numbers out, subtract your spending from your income and that is your excess (or net) income. It is what you are able to save each money. You might be asking yourself, what about my credit cards?

If you are not using your credit for you, but against you, here are 2 helpful pointers. This will also allow you to eliminate your credit card payment while building your credit and freeing up your money to save.

"Pay your credit cards off" each month. What I really mean is pay your statement balance off every month. Credit interest is calculated every 30 days or each at the close of each statement period (30 days). If you pay your credit cards' statement balance off, you don't pay interest. Pay your payments ON TIME. I would recommend having it be an auto-payment.

Once you pay your credit card bill(s), use your credit cards to pay for what you need such as gas, groceries, bills, etc. etc. By using your credit cards in this way, it "eliminates your credit card bill," since you are paying the statement balance. It doesn't actually eliminate your credit card bill, but instead of paying the minimum and having it be another expense to your budget, you are paying the balance on the account and turning around to use the available credit on the account without adding the amount of the minimum payment. If you use your credit cards in this manner, then the amounts you would pay for a minimum payment on your accounts can then be rolled into savings each month.

Once you figure out what you can save each month, make it a goal to save a certain amount by a certain time. Try breaking up how much you need to save daily, weekly and monthly to give yourself more specific goals, depending on what your spending habits are currently.

Evaluate your spending habits. What are you currently spending money on that you can eliminate for the time being? Roll those $5 a month you might be spending on Spotify or Apple Music. $5 adds up over a year, not by much, but add it to other small savings and you could increase your savings by $250 or more!

5. Don't second guess yourself.

The biggest mistake I hear people making when they are talking about wanting to move or do something they want to do, it's they aren't sure they can even do it! You must believe you can do the things you want. If you take my advice for how to move and do what you want, you will be able to achieve your goals, budget, save money, use credit wisely and do what you want!

Share your thoughts with friends and family, but don't let them talk you out of your goals. Sometimes, you have to take risks to grow. Chances are if you want to move from where you are, you need a change. Take a risk!

The only reason you are not moving to where you want to live or doing what you want is you. You have to decide it is what you want and go after it. Make it work and never give up.

If you liked this article, give it a like and share! More to come!

[sorryforthephilosophy]

A Very Messy Utopia

Fictional utopias tend to be clean and simplistic, presenting an orderly and predictable society.  That always struck me as wrong, even off-putting.  I suspect it is for others as well, and perhaps that’s why we’ve turned away from utopian imaginings in recent decades.

The problem, I think, is that a simplistic, orderly utopia wouldn’t meet the needs of a diverse population. Diversity is messy, and diverse populations need to be dealt with in many different ways.  A simple, orderly utopia presumes a homogeneous population and culture.  Such a utopia is not a place where all kinds of people are welcome, and then can it truly be called a utopia?

But is a messy utopia possible? What would it look like?  As a long-time student of the history of New York City, I can cast my mind back to all the times and ways that New York has helped its inhabitants.  NYC has not always done good things for its people, but sometimes it has.  If I focus on those times, I think I can envision what a messy utopia would look like:

You’ve got a big, crowded city.  Millions live here.  Every day more arrive, from all over the world, from places where there is little hope or safety, to try to make better lives.  There’s no cost to get in (besides the cost of transport), no contract you have to sign to get in, you just have to be prepared to try to make it in a place that is unlike anywhere you have ever lived before.

Traffic is a bitch in this city, and there’s hardly any parking, but that doesn’t matter because most don’t people don’t own cars, don’t need to.  A complex but efficient system of busses, trains, subways and ferries gets people everywhere they need to go quickly and cheaply.  Public transport is just one piece of a massive system of public works that rivals those of entire nations in its complexity and capabilities.  The systems that deliver water and power, that take away sewage and trash, are humbling in scope, but they run so well, thanks to the hard work of thousands, that most don’t give them a second thought.

The city is incredibly diverse.  On the streets, on the subway, you’ll see every race, hear every language, see young and old, able and disabled, wealthy and not-so-wealthy, every style, every religion, every type of gender performance, every facet of neurodiversity.  A woman in a full hijab sits on the subway car next to a young punk who purposefully has one boob hanging out of a ripped t-shirt.  This is a place where people from all over come when they are being judged and discriminated against.  They know they will find a thriving subculture here of people who are just like them.

People are not generally friendly.  It would take too much emotional energy, or require you to be ingenuine, to act like you care about all the thousands of people you meet in a day who you will never meet again.  Instead, people know to mind their own business.  When you’re in public the fact that you’re reading a book, looking at your phone or listening to headphones means you don’t want to be spoken to, and people know to respect that.  Rather than friendliness, people learn not to step on each others’ toes.  Spread your legs too much on the subway so that nobody can sit next to you and some grandma who is too tired to take any shit, is going to yell at you until you put your knees together and apologize.  Through being yelled at, you will have learned a lesson on how to get along with others.

Yet when you need help, there will be someone in the crowd who will not only step forward to help, but have the skills to do so.  If you’re choking, someone who knows the Heimlich will step forward.  You fall onto the subway tracks with a train oncoming, some buff dude is going to jump down and haul you up just in the nick of time.  These everyday heroes are nightly celebrated on the local news.  And everyone sees that the city’s heroes look just like them, and resolve to be ready to be a hero whenever and wherever they can.

The government is scared of its people, and not the other way around.  Politicians are worried, harried creatures, constantly aware that displeasing their constituents may leave them out of a job.  Every citizen who comes into their office to complain about a pothole or bad smells from the fish-ball factory has to be given an audience.  Every working hour is spent trying to serve one’s constituents.  

The city government is a massive, expensive bureaucracy, but only because it needs to be to do all the things the city does and serve all the populations it serves.  Hundreds of thousands are employed by the city to help people.  Unions are ubiquitous and make sure that workers, government and private, are treated fairly.  Every government worker, from the garbage collector to the nurse at the hospital to the cop on the beat knows that in exchange for their honest and committed labor they’ll be rewarded with a living wage, good benefits and a comfortable retirement.

The city has its problems, but it deals with their harms.  Rather than punishing drug addicts, prostitutes, gambling addicts and homeless people, the city does what it can to keep them safe and give them a chance to improve their lives.  That might mean allowing them to indulge in a self-destructive vice in the safest way possible, e.g. getting clean heroin with clean needles from a clinic.  

Crime is fought in the city, but it is also prevented: by education, by social work, by family planning, by providing excellent mental health care, by giving people support when they need it, and by banning guns.

Cops are working class men and women, members of the community they serve.  They don’t generally carry guns, because neither do the people they are there to protect.

There is capitalism in this utopia, even thriving capitalism.  The city has an incredible infrastructure: freeways, docks, harbors, internet, dependable power, a healthy and educated workforce, consumers with money to spend, and this is an incredible boon for any business that operates here.  There are taxes and a high minimum wage, but these are not enough to stifle business.  Every kind of business, from mom-and-pop corner store, to heavy industry manufacturing, to high-tech R&D happens here.  Competition between private industry and government makes sure that citizens get the best of both.  For example: any company that wants to sell internet access has to make sure it can provide better or cheaper service than the municipal internet or else that business isn’t getting off the ground.

Capitalism does the one thing it’s historically done well: provide creativity and innovation.  Any person can work an honest job, save up some money and start a business.  If they think they can run a better pizza place, or a better web hosting company, or publish a better comic book than the competition, then they’re welcome to try.  If they truly have figured out some better way to run their business, they’ll thrive.  If they haven’t, their business will fold, and they’ll go back to being someone else’s employee again.  The failures are many, but nobody’s life is ruined, and the successes make the city a better place by making the services people want cheaper and better.

Some people can become wealthy, and live in fancy condos, and eat at expensive restaurants, but they have to pay a heavy tax, their fair share for being able to enjoy living in the most exciting city on earth.  They too feel safe walking the streets, don’t see any need to sequester themselves away from the poorer population.  Some of the best places in the city, the parks and the nightclubs and the street fairs, are free to attend, and there the wealthy mingle with the less-wealthy as equals.

There are a lot of laws.  Lawyers will do brisk business because there are more laws than any lay-person can wrap their heads around.  Most all of the laws concern how people can treat each other: how a landlord can treat a tenant, how an employer can treat an employee, how a factory can treat the air and water that everyone shares, etc.  The laws aren’t to protect any elite, they’re to protect the people.

The city is not clean.  It’s messy, and often ugly.  Many of the buildings are old and patched up.  In this city, you don’t pull down a building just because it’s old, you get up on a ladder and hammer on some scrap wood.  People love parts of the city, even the ugly ones, and will fight to protect them, getting them listed as historic landmarks.  That ugliness takes a lot of pressure off of everyone.  You will never lose customers because your retail spot or office is a bit shabby.  You can leave your apartment in last week’s sweatpants and not be judged by anyone.  You don’t have to have the latest clothes or a brand new car.  That money can be saved up for something that will actually improve your life.

Some people will live here all their lives.  Some will live here, make their lives better, climb a few rungs on the socioeconomic ladder, or make a better life for their kids, and then leave, making room for the next person coming in wanting to make a better life.

Thinking about this messy utopia, I can hear the angry voices of those who think it sounds more like a liberal dystopia.  For them it’s not a utopia if there are lawyers, social workers, gay people, Muslims, if there’s taxes and environmental regulations.  Even these assholes are welcome in the messy utopia, where laws will make sure their assholery won’t harm anyone else.  On the other hand, I’m sure their vision of a utopia excludes people, and I’d want no part of that.

The more I think about it, the more I think a messy utopia is possible, that there’s a way to get there from here.  I think we stopped demanding utopia because it stopped being something we could imagine.  I hope that can change.

[ddreamsinc]

Starting An Insurance Company From Scratch - Using The Internet

The2DBlog REPORT by TheDdreamsInc/                          SEE THE VISION. See the vision. What does that mean? It means, that you have to journey outside of reality to see something in the spirit world & write it down & make it plain. What does that mean? Writing it down is a "time castle" on paper or cloth or wood or rock to become a later road map to what you seen in your imagination. Or I call the spirit world. God gives us "ideas" in this spirit world aka imagination, for us to manifest it into the real world. Make it plain, is make it make sense. If it is an invention, then how would it work? Invent the parts to make it work. How would it cost to make & if you planning to sell it or make & sell or distribute yourself or outsource? Make it plain enough for the children could understand. See the vision, write it down & make it plain. Ladies & Gentle, I have Vision. What I am about to share with you is from that world & think about the kind of America would it become? Then you would see why God told "if he wins, he is going to jail" in 2016, because, in a previous vlog episode, I had said, "if he wins, I am not going to do TheDdreamsInc. I would serious about that too. God woke me up to tell me because He knew, I would had TRIPPED, as I did when I woke to hear that he had won. I am just going to give you some of what, I didn't want him to get credit for. One day TheDdreamsInc would have 9 llc's & 3 Non-Profits with 1 of these division would own a chain of, free to all, Medical/Dental/All/Rehab/Natural/pharmacy Centers in 200 US locations & 500 Internationals & the 2nd Non Profit will do transit, day-care, mail/print/money/business store center in the hood & rural areas, a healthcare Insurance international in all 50 US states & 10 territories & 100 nations & Pharmaceutical company (don't ask why). Costs? Well see the medical center will be staff with medical & natural professionals & that means they "protect" health, so they would Knights, The2HKOPs tm. & would have a starting pay of $1.500,000 & up & a staff of 1,500 as Boss Hours #1 C (7 hours shifts & 1 shift with only 4 hour last shift, a team for Tues to Fri & a new team for Sat to Mon, be 6 months on & 6 months at Boss Hours #1 C Schedule by TheDdreamsInc). According to my estimation, it cost $33.6 Trillion for 700 Medical centers, Health Insurance, & Knights payroll budgets & this is just for health projects, I got many projects to target & fix many problems.. Guess what, I am going to have it too. And pay my people like that because I use to be an employee & always wanted to treated & paid that way, so now or soon I would have the chance to do so. I don't like jobs because of how they steal your gifts for lesser value in return. So when my need to get "People Power" to try & help my business grow, I found several issues, in my way. No money, to hire anybody, I ain't HIRED myself yet, I am working "Pro Bono" for my company. The next thing is, I don't like jobs, so why would I create jobs? So I began designing a dream job & when I did the math to how that would cost, I realize, "that's crazy" & impossible. It was then, I started to pity employers, some of them just have the money to create dream jobs. Then I created a pricing system for my brands & created The BOSSICOL Club by TheDdreamsInc (Busy Tribe). When I franchise it to other businesses, your "jobs" will have no other choice but to pay & treat you better, or they would lose candidates for those jobs, to this what God gave me. It was He who "pointed out my job's nastiness" in 2000 & Healed me when I realized that I was of a contract that they made me sign, after hearing one of the ideas of a product. Ever since then, BOSS is what I focused on but now BOSSICOLs Boss Commission members which means, instead making labor commission, I would pay them $374,4000 & up a year to do "duties" for my company. But my Knights? They have to be part-time employees because I want their 100. I have to create any jobs, I would with these knights. Forget about my beef with law enforcement, they would have to face God on that, but these Knights are not for my protection, but to the people's protection. I called them Hardhead, because I mirrored my 12 divisions after my characteristics, so if a family said to me "I'll be back, I am about to go see what this girl is talking about, she said her baby daddy & his friends over there tripping, I'll be back, stay here". Then he leaves. Now, of course my cousin ain't expecting me to just sit there & wait for him to get jump or killed, does he? So when my cousin arrives at his baby momma's house, he closes his door & walk up the door & before he reaches the door, he'll hear "doomp doomp doomp doomp". Look back & see me, my brother, & his brothers walking up to the house too. Of course, he would say "I told y'all not to come, Y'all hard-headed". I would respond, "I want to see a fight too, so if there is a fight, we just want to make sure that it's an even fight, that's all cuz". So if I have to hire, I can't trust them to be just independent contractors nor contractors, because of high sensitive inventions, plans, & secrets of operations that they'll be protecting. I need their 100. To pay them as they matter because when my family, BOSSICOLS & their families, Committees & their families, Customers & their families, & all Human beings are at stake. Plus they'll have access to top-level secrets too, I need for them to be employed by both TheDdreamsInc & The Hard Head knights of Protection division & any other division they'll duty too. Which means they'll 3 jobs & possibly get themselves a BOSSICOL agreement when they on their 6 months rest time. (probably month to month off to on). So If my destiny requires a Knight for protection, then I rather they be dream jobs & give vets a better job option when returning from duty of our nation. If they become homeless off this kind of money & healthcare & time off to chase their dreams too, then they "on something". Dear Government? Are you against God? Then why are you against me? What about helping people makes you so afraid of me? Is it that you afraid black people would unite behind me & that would make your worst nightmare come true? Well, you're off a lot, I will unite the world behind me. Remember God? Yeah, He seems to believe that this is HIS Planet. Ain't nobody showed me a title to it yet, so I am going "assume", that HE IS RIGHT. So black people, as you know, I DON'T KISS BOOTY. My mission is you focused, but not solely, Hebrew & Gentile. I don't want to be your buddies, nope. I am an entrepreneur & you're public servants, y'all stay in y'all lane & I will stay in mine, but we can help each other can we? Yeah, this plan would make your jobs easy, or some of your voters won't like me because of my works to help the people who need it. Most people have decided that money is above life. They are to get an EYE-OPENING Experience from "some".. Some Elites? God is about to speak to them & they will be looking for me soon. In 1 sell, I would be rich & put it right to work, because I don't care to be rich, I know money is only a tool to get stuff done & I am going to USED the MESS OUT OF IT. And the beginning of a new way of doing stuff. Stop fighting God because Change always comes. Please Read a book call "Who move my cheese", it's a book about learning to adapt to change in business or life. Yes, you better adapt to this change or not adaptation would destroy your survival. I have already seen what it would do. Dr. King seen it in a dream, I seen it while I daydreamed, ever since I was a child. I now know that it was God preparing me for it. And He said if I had the vision, that He would provide me with the Provision. To President... But I want to publically state that I want to apologize to Donald Trump (I haven't typed his name since he won). I despised you for your racism but now I Know it is Facts of what God told me about you is true & I now feel sorry for you. I can't imagine the pain & dread you are experiencing now. I felt dread before & it is an ugly thing to feel. I also want to thank you for calling back those planes. It showed me that you're not a bad person at all, just racist. A bad person, likes those around you pushing for that war, would have started that war because you could. But you called it back & that showed leadership. Thank you for that, but now we have to heal this nation. No, I don't need your help, too many of your supporters has also shown to be enemies of this nation, even if the investigators haven't cared to look & I rather not. Not until they prove their love to an untied body of Americans of all races. Also as I knew, that you didn't want to be president in the first place, so when you did become president, you & your wife was frightened about it. You knew, that this was a whole new ball game. But why did you run for it anyway, when you knew of your past? Because you didn't think you would win, didn't you? Neither did I & I was mighty pissed that you had. Well, that's because you underestimated racism in this nation, as we "racism" experts have been yelling at the top of our lungs about. There were more people, out there, who thought like you than you thought, didn't you? Your Ego? Yeah. You're an entrepreneur & not a public servant & being both is not good to that entrepreneur's freedom & the freedom of free enterprise is illegal as a public servant. I knew that & said that when you had won. I thought it would be what would end your job, but it finds out that you had help. "If he wins, he is going to jail" & that is what He meant If you won. When you won, it became illegal, if not already before & then investigated & you got off & kept pushing & oops. I knew that a person can go to jail as an entrepreneur because they think like an entrepreneur would led them from thinking & acting as entrepreneurs & oops. Something like what you've done, huh? Still, you have my apology for being so mean to you but you're not totally innocent, are you? Your racism, I promise that racism is a big issue for me. God used you to bring them out. Now there is elderly white women wearing matching 'I'm a Racist B" t-shirts in the open. You done that & the American people would be better for it. Because the way of hate has welcomed greed which both have become saftey concerns to the body of the world. Hate, Greed, Corruption & willful ignorance are the core issue to the world's problems. If we consumers would untie & stop supporting those who support that stuff, we can weed it out better. Thank you for that. I still do feel sorry for you because you got in way too over your head didn't you? First, when I heard about you & your wife crying when you won & clutching your Bible, I knew why you were crying. But clutching the Bible says to me in that time, YOU BELIEVED in HIM. Good. Then I read about you 2 looking as if you just lost a loved one. It had just hit you to what had just happened huh? I am not a prophet yet, I may be already, just don't hear God like that, He only communicate to me when it is important for me to hear. But I do be getting messages from God through other people & directly from him. The first He did that was to tell me about your future if you won. But comes from what God said that night & my gut. You will not be executed for these crimes, which are the penalty for treason, but you won't be. No God said to me that night, you're going to jail if you won, nothing else. And I believe that is all you would get. No doing yourself harm neither. You can not REPENT if you're dead, God loves you too. You Clutched your Bible before, you should turn back to Him now & He would guide you to what you must do. Sorry dude, you gotta go to jail, because little is watching this. Let me ask? Have you ever got a whooping? No? Figures because if he had, then you would have had a thought of "I can get a whooping if I done this", but since you never experienced that through childhood, then you don't have that. Show me a rich man or woman who still whoop their kids & you're looking at the best down to earth rich person, then adult on the planet. Got money through family, but still got that moral compass which pops or moms whooped into him. I forgive you too. But this is as far I would go too with this apology, because I know how your followers would try & use me as "ploy" they better not dare use my stuff against my will. Do what is right for this nation. All of you. You who I mean too. Thank you & pray & God would lead you. Everybody else. Help God bring His Kingdom to Earth. How? See the vision, write it down & make it plain.

[punalavaflow]

Housing crunch adds to crisis: Rental exemptions sought for evacuees

A shortage of rental housing in East Hawaii has become part of the ongoing crisis caused by the lava from Kilauea volcano, which has destroyed homes and forced hundreds of lower Puna residents to evacuate.

State Rep. Joy San Buenaventura, a Puna Democrat, wrote a letter Tuesday to Gov. David Ige asking him to issue three executive orders to alleviate the housing crisis many are facing.

San Buenaventura is requesting a waiver of the transient accommodations tax until a month after the emergency declaration has ended for evacuees seeking short-term rentals of less than 180 days.

She’s also asking that evacuee-tenants be allowed to waive certain landlord-tenant code provisions so they could rent vacant houses foreclosed upon or going through foreclosure.

In addition, she’s urging the governor to sign Senate Bill 2401, which would establish an “ohana zone program,” a $50 million grant to provide basic housing needs in addition to social services, health care and transportation for the homeless. The Legislature passed the bill earlier this year.

“Now, because of the evacuees, we’ve got this houselessness problem, and it’s perfect to have this transitional housing for the evacuees,” San Buenaventura said. “Originally, the homeless advocates … were against it because they thought it legalized camping. But now, we’ve worked out the language … to use it to provide temporary housing for these evacuees.”

State Sen. Russell Ruderman, also a Puna Democrat, hopes the governor “will release the money for the ohana zones because we can use that, potentially, for some of our needs over here.”

“It’s very hard to find a rental right now in East Hawaii because all the low-hanging fruit has been picked,” Ruderman said. “And every week, there’s another hundred or two hundred evacuees, including (Tuesday) night … about 500 because of ‘Four Corners’ being closed off.”

Ruderman’s assessment of the rental market is backed by Nancy Cabral, president of Day-Lum Rentals & Management and Coldwell-Banker Day-Lum Properties.

“I could probably rent out, in the next month, 100 houses. And there’s not enough houses,” Cabral said. “I’ve already got tenants and applicants that are ready to move into anything that comes up in the next 30 days. If somebody gives me notice that they’re moving out in the next 28 days, I’ve already got two or three or four people ready to move in. So there’ll be no vacancy.

“It seems everybody down there still wants to stay in lower Puna,” she continued. “They love it down there. That’s their home, so they’re trying to stay there. They prefer houses over apartments. We’re trying to turn over anything that comes out as fast as possible and just get it ready for somebody to move back in.”

Susie Osborne, principal of Kua O Ka La Public Charter School in Leilani Estates, and herself a displaced Leilani resident, found a house outside Hilo through friends. But while looking, she ran across a rental listing on the internet site craigslist advertising a two-bedroom beach home for $800 in the Keaukaha neighborhood of Hilo.

The listing, she said, which was still online as of Wednesday, turned out to be a scam: The real estate agent who is listing the home for sale said it wasn’t for rent.

“I felt sick to my stomach that anybody would stoop so low to do something to another human at this incredible time of crisis in our community,” Osborne said.

San Buenaventura, an attorney, said it’s difficult to prosecute rental scams such as the one Osborne said she encountered.

“When I became a state rep, I needed to find a place to live in Honolulu. And you see all these gorgeous places that are on craigslist,” she said. “And you find out really fast that these are too good to be true. There’s no one to physically show you the place. They’ll show you a photo of the place. There is no physical person you can sign a lease to. These have been around awhile, but now we’re more aware of it, because in Puna, people are more desperate.”

Osborne said she’s also heard about rental-price gouging from friends.

“You see a place (advertised) for rent, and a few days later, it’s up a few hundred dollars. I think it’s ongoing. There are so many people displaced, and there’s so few places,” she said.

Ruderman said he’s also heard anecdotal reports of price hikes for rental properties.

According to Cabral, raising rents during a state of emergency is against the law.

“The emergency declaration freezes rents at the current level at the time,” she said.

Cabral said she has a list of ideas to ease the housing crisis, including setting up a nonprofit organization to provide security deposits for those displaced by lava. The funds would be returned to the nonprofit to help others in the future.

And, like San Buenaventura, she wants the governor and mayor to “eliminate some red tape and relax rules to help people get new homes to rent or to get them built.”

Ruderman has his own ideas for easing the housing crunch caused by the lava, including a proposal to allow tiny houses to be built, and the donation of state land to a nonprofit organization for the development of villages of small homes that could be sold to displaced homeowners.

He said the goal is to not have people languishing in emergency shelters for months.

“I think the existing shelter is becoming its own crisis rather fast, a mental health and a social crisis,” he said. “And we need to get people out of there fast, for their own mental health, for their own physical health.

“The people who have been in the shelter for more than three weeks are really under a lot of stress. They can’t leave their valuables. If they’re in a tent and the guy in the next tent is yelling at his partner, it’s terrible to listen to that night after night. I think the best short-term solution is these tiny houses.

“I don’t want to jump the gun, but I believe there will be an announcement from county housing in the next day or two about these tiny houses, and that would be for short-term relocation.”

Reporter Stephanie Salmons contributed to this report.

Email John Burnett at jburnett@hawaiitribune-herald.com.

The post Housing crunch adds to crisis: Rental exemptions sought for evacuees appeared first on Hawaii Tribune-Herald.

from Hawaii News – Hawaii Tribune-Herald https://ift.tt/2J3tlVI

[mysteryshelf]

BLOG TOUR - Saving Dabba

  Welcome to

THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF!

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF by Breakthrough Promotions. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

About the Book

ISBN-10: 1984926691

ISBN-13: 978-1984926692

CreateSpace Independent Publishing

Paperback: 246 pages

March 3, 2018, $12.99

Genre: Mystery

Series: Beth Bowman Series

  Also available in Kindle edition

  Beth Bowman is a PI in Coral Lakes, FL who works with a homeless group. When one of them turns up brutally beaten to death, Beth feels obligated to become involved. She learns there is a group in town to demonstrate, Friends Intent on The Environment (FITE) who could be involved. Another murder occurs and evidence points to Dabba, one of Beth’s friends. Beth sets her sights on FITE as their demonstrations become more violent. Cloie Morales, the leader of FITE is a formidable adversary, causing Beth to reach deep inside herself.

Interview with the Author

  What initially got you interested in writing?

That’s hard to answer, but I’m sure it starts with my lifelong love of reading. I don’t remember when it began, but it goes farther than my memory can trace. Also, I was blessed with teachers who insisted I write, not that I was thrilled with it at the time. Sometimes, it was a paper on a specific subject, and at other times, it allowed me to test my imagination. Usually mine came up in the B – C area—not for lack of story, but for grammar and spelling problems. I still have to stay on my toes for those two.

  What genres do you write in?

Oh, me. Wherever my imagination takes my next story. My first effort was Young Adult, then I moved into Mystery. Wrote a few of those before taking on Historical Fiction, Thrillers, and even some shots at Fantasy. I guess you’d say I’m all over the place. Of course, that doesn’t count short stories. My latest, SAVING DABBA, is a mystery/thriller featuring Beth Bowman. She delves into the world of “professional” demonstrations.

  What drew you to writing these specific genres?

I have to harken back to my reading habits. I read about everything except Romance and Sci-Fi, although I will slip in a Sci-Fi if it comes recommended high enough. I’m also a news junkie. So, my writing takes on a mix of the news-of-the-day and the genres I enjoy. The one thing that is consistent across all, though, is the “cleanliness” of my books. I see no need for gutter language in life or in literature, so I stay away from it. Also, blood and gore are absent from my writing.

  How did you break into the field?

Nothing fancy about it. Writing the best books I can, sending out queries, attending conferences, meeting agents, editors, and other authors, joining Mystery Writers of America, performing volunteer work, etc. For many years, I was a key volunteer with SleuthFest, the conference sponsored by the Florida Chapter of MWA, including chairing it several years. I served on the board of FMWA and was its president. Through these efforts, my name and my writing became known. The one thing I didn’t do and cannot do is shove my books in the faces of prospective buyers, whether it be an agent, an editor, or a reader.

  What do you want readers to take away from reading your works?

My hope is that each and every reader will simply enjoy their time with me. If they find a smile along the way, that’s even better. I write for my enjoyment and for theirs. Since I pride myself on accuracy in those areas where fiction gets a boost from non-fiction, I love it if a reader learns from one of my stories. For example, my wife was kind enough to help me research the bra gun that Beth Bowman uses. The concept works.

  What do you find most rewarding about writing?

First and foremost, someone saying, “Randy, I enjoyed your book,” whether face-to-face or in a review or an Internet post. Yes, I admit it makes my ego swell. I also enjoy meeting readers at book signings, appearances, conferences, etc. And when someone says, “I read your book . . .” That’s rewarding.

  What do you find most challenging about writing?

Accuracy and reality. As I said above, the non-fictional parts that appear in my books must be correct. I dig to make sure they are. The second aspect of that is putting my characters in “real” situations. I won’t have a hero or heroine “leap tall buildings in a single bound.” Not realistic. Not logical. My people function within a real world, perhaps stretched a bit for the sake of storyline, but one a reader can recognize.

  What advice would you give to people wanting to enter the field?

That’s the easiest question on the list. Read, read, and read, then read some more. Learn from the best. That does NOT mean copy. It means learn. Develop your own voice, your own style, but let the books you enjoy teach you.

  What type of books do you enjoy reading?

Mystery, Thriller, Historical Fiction, Main Stream. About anything except Romance. But, no matter what the book is, I expect it to be well written and have gone through the torturous process of editing. I will not accept badly written books. There is no excuse for them.

  Is there anything else besides writing you think people would find interesting about you?

I was a career US Army officer and enjoyed it. I hope people will honor those who are currently keeping our country safe. It’s not about me, it’s about freedom.

  What are the best ways to connect with you, or find out more about your work?

Email me (Please!) at RandyRawls89@gmail.com. I love to hear from people. Amazon has all my books. Some are out of print, but those are available as EBooks. And, of course, through this blog.

  About the Author

  Randy Rawls was born and reared in Williamston, North Carolina, a small town in the northeastern part of the state. From there, he says he inherited a sense of responsibility, a belief in fair play, and a love of country. As a career US Army officer, he had the opportunity to learn, travel, teach, and hone talents inherited from his parents. Following retirement, he worked in other ventures for the US Government. Every job has in some way been fun. Even the dark days of Vietnam had their light moments, and he cherishes the camaraderie that was an integral part of survival in that hostile world.

  Today, he has short stories in several anthologies, and a growing list of novels to his credit. As a prolific reader, the reads across several genres and takes that into his writing. He has written mysteries, thrillers, an historical, and two fantasy/mystery/thrillers featuring a Santa Elf. The count is now at fourteen and growing. He is a regular contributor to Happy Homicides, a twice annual anthology of cozy short stories. He also has a series of short stories featuring a cattle-herding burro. Wherever his imagination will take him, he follows.

  www.randyrawls.com

https://www.facebook.com/randy.rawls.315

  Buy links for Saving Dabba

  Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Saving-Dabba-Beth-Bowman-4/dp/1984926691/ref=sr_1_1_twi_pap_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1520370020&sr=8-1&keywords=saving+dabba

    Buy link for Jingle and his Magnificent Seven:

  Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Jingle-Magnificent-Seven-Randy-Rawls-ebook/dp/B0753D84HJ/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1520370495&sr=1-1&keywords=jingle+and+his+magnificent+seven

      BLOG TOUR – Saving Dabba was originally published on the Wordpress version of The Pulp and Mystery Shelf with Shannon Muir

[whenmusicspeaksfl]

Guide To An Existential Crisis

Guide to an Existential Crisis

By Hali Neal

This has been a hard post for me to write mostly because I haven't wanted to face any of the shit that led to my moving back to Miami (more on that in a bit). Except now my brain is tired of all the effort it takes to sustain that type of compartmentalization. I know this because of this restless, irritated, disillusioned (annoyed??) feeling that infected me in the two weeks since I've finished my summer job. It refuses to go away. And then there's the fact that both good and bad memories of my year and a half in Orlando keep flooding my mind.

If I'm being brutally honest with myself, which is sometimes a hard task, it really started last summer. Last summer when it looked and sometimes felt like I was on top of the world: I worked my ass off in school, my job, and to make deeper, meaningful connections in the music industry. I was fortunate enough to grab the attention of Mike Ziemer, owner of Third String Records and founder of the So What?! festival through a competition he was running to shadow him at So What?! and because of that, he offered myself and others who participated in the contest free two-day tickets to his festival. We all teamed up to find inexpensive accommodations, flights, and rental cars. We also decided to be a part of the So What?! documentary and that experience still stands out as one of the best (and coldest!) weekends of my life.

I also had the opportunity to attend the first Warped Tour press conference/lineup announcement in Orlando, which drew a lot of the more influential players in the industry to it. I was able to network with a few of them and got offered a(n unpaid) position to tour with MetalFortress Radio, one of Warped Tour’s sponsors that year. Also definitely two of the best weeks of my life. I was also approved to cover Pierce the Veil’s (one of my favorite bands) sold out “Misadventures” show in New York, Acceptance’s (another favorite band) show in Orlando, and the opportunity to cover both Fort Rock and the Cincinnati date of the Vans Warped Tour. I thought I had everything locked up as far as pursuing the creative career I’d always wanted: I’d been offered a full-time job as a photographer for Sharpshooter Imaging that was to start as soon as I got back from Warped Tour with MetalFortress. 

Then it all came crashing down in spectacular fashion. It started with me and my friend Adria covering the Cincinnati date of the Vans Warped Tour. The online publication I’d been writing for since 2012, Examiner.com, e-mailed me to tell me and the others that the site was shutting down in favor of keeping AXS.com, the company that bought out the original owners, running. Writing for Examiner was how I got my start in music journalism and how I’d gotten as far as I had in the industry. Naturally, I was crushed. As for AXS, I’d only just started writing for them in February after applying for the job three previous times. And anyone who’s ever had a long-term job knows what happens when a new company comes in: they kick all the old people out and start fresh. That’s exactly what happened to me. This wouldn’t have been as big a deal as it became if I hadn’t been 1) struggling to find the right medication to help me manage my depression and generalized anxiety disorder 2) literally in West Virginia driving to Ohio to cover Warped Tour for AXS. 3) constantly broke because of my focus on what I thought I wanted as a career for myself. 

These points are all interconnected in terms of how I got to where I am now so get comfortable and grab a snack or some coffee, because this is going to get long. This is what happens when you bottle stuff up too long and feel like you’re going to burst. Not the healthiest way to deal with stuff (don’t follow my example, kids). And I know this, which is why I’m attempting to excise these feelings the best way I know how: through writing.

1)   I’ve been quieter about my own mental health struggles than I probably should have – the majority of people who aren’t close to me (or my friend on Facebook) seem to think I’m the picture of someone who has their shit together, but in a lot of respects, nothing could be further from the truth. I’ve found ways to function despite my illness, which I think has more to do with my being stubborn as hell and feeling like there just has to be something more than this – than these circumstances.

a.   I’ve also been quiet about it because a lot of it is still me coming to terms with it and how it’s affected my life (still working on that, btw). It’s like waking up after a 10-year nap or something and realizing that you woke up in the middle of the apocalypse.

b.   It’s also EXTREMELY difficult to find health insurance on a limited income, the right psychiatrist, the right medication to help manage your symptoms (especially when you’re like me and have a propensity for experiencing ultra rare side effects) and never mind trying to find the right psychologist to deal with the emotional sludge you have to slog through to get to the light of what’s called recovery. I’ve made a lot of progress in those areas, but I can tell this is only the beginning.

c.    I’ve struggled with feeling shame’s ugly wings flapping in my ear when it comes to my anxiety disorder and depression. I’ve struggled with the two of them in some form my entire life but I only reached what addicts might call “rock bottom” toward the end of 2015. I’d just moved to Orlando to pursue what I thought would be my dream job, digital media/mobile journalism, was literally sleeping on my best friend’s floor (and putting up with her incredibly awful, toxic roommates), and working a shitty job I knew I’d eventually come to hate but I needed something to get me through until loans came in.

d.   I felt myself falling into a familiar hole around my birthday in October as my only paying writing job, Miami ArtZine, became impossible to keep up with and everything became a fight. The other thing of significance that happened was that two South Florida friends (both of whom are no longer in my life, one for reasons other than what I’m about to describe), were supposed to come up to Orlando for my birthday to see Bring Me The Horizon (a band who’s become important to me because “That’s The Spirit” is such an accurate depiction of how it feels to have depression). One of the girls literally waited until the day of, a few hours before they were supposed to leave, to tell my other friend that the car wasn’t going to make it up to Orlando. The other friend doesn’t drive and the show was sold out, so it’s safe to say that wasn’t my best birthday.  

e.   Losing the gigs with AXS and Examiner.com, struggling to find the right medication, and the photography job turning out not to be what it promised (leaving me scrambling to pay bills and afford gas/food) were just the straws that broke the camel’s back. The medication I was taking during my trip to Cincinnati, Cymbalta, ended up making me more depressed/suicidal than I’d ever been and it just made everything 10x harder to handle. I also found out that the psychiatrists I thought were helping me were actually awful doctors, so I felt like I was up a creek without a paddle.

The one-two punch that finally finished me off while I was in Orlando had everything to do with my living situation: first, it was apartment drama that ended with me and my roommates getting kicked out of our shady apartment complex for literally signing a complaint one of the roommates gave to the property manager and then thinking I’d found a place only to have it fall through at the last minute (which would become a theme with my jobs too). This led to me bouncing around from place to place basically every month: one month included living with an emotionally and physically abusive couple, another an extended stay for two weeks, to the same “best friends” I’d stayed when I first moved to Orlando telling me they weren’t kicking me out but I needed to find somewhere else, and finally a halfway sober house whose only requirement was that you had to be homeless and have a job (you didn’t necessarily have to have a problem with alcohol to qualify… main requirement was to be homeless. However, if you were newly sober, you needed to be 3 months sober). The halfway house is where I finally ended up because I was tired of moving and the property owner was only charging me $225 a month all-inclusive (with the exception of internet -  there was no wi-fi, which complicates things when you’re a digital media major who works most mornings or is in class).   

Then the problems started. I discovered that the mattress the property owner had so kindly provided for me was ridden with bed bugs, which, it turns out, I’m highly allergic to the bite of. I was in that house for three months and ended up sleeping on the living room couch or chair for relief, a place I often had to fight over with a cranky, sick old man obsessed with Fox News as well as a creepy, older manipulative crack addict that didn’t seem to actually want to get better and constantly stole everyone’s food. It got to the point that I depended on food pantries or my job as my main food source. I felt like I was sinking even lower into myself as we had to deal with the fact that the house was basically falling apart and the property owner would say she’d fix it and then never do it, drama that involved the crack addict and the cops and eventually the addict leaving. As I’ve been made aware, this was a lot for anyone to handle, never mind someone trying to juggle a 28 hour/week work schedule and classes. Then I lost my job and only reliable source of income in December as a result of stress and being on the wrong medication… again (this time the offender was Wellbutrin. My blood pressure before I was finally able to be taken off it was 161/something else obscenely high). 

The final straw came in January when my roommate and only sane person in that entire house told me the addict was coming back in February. Neither of us were about that life so we both knew we needed out before the end of the month. She left first and moved in with a friend she’d made at the house next to ours. Meanwhile, I was still stubbornly refusing to give up on my dream career and metaphorically dragging myself to classes. With everything going on, I only had enough energy left to pony up half-ass effort for my classes. The spring semester just started and already I’d forgotten to go to one of my classes and was full of resentment and other negative feelings for a class I’d normally enjoy: college newspaper.

My thoughts swirled and sounded something like this: ‘What am I doing with my life that I'm being so stubborn/subjecting myself to abhorrent (bed bug ridden) conditions...?’ ‘And for what?’ ‘What has this ultimately brought me but misery topped with more misery (and a generous sprinkling of debt)?’

I’d gone to Valencia when I was first having housing problems and was able to utilize their emergency fund. Unfortunately, that money went to living with the abusive couple for a month. I went back to Valencia to see what I could do and if maybe the emergency fund could help me again. Turns out it really is a one time fund. I felt screwed. I explained the situation to the counselor and he gave me the “come to Jesus” talk I didn’t know I needed. He told me that add/drop wasn’t over yet, that I could still drop with no liability, that it was okay to take a semester off, and even though it might be hard to ask, to ask my parents if I can come home and let them help me. Add/drop ended after that weekend (I went to the office Friday), so I had to decide quickly. I texted my parents the situation – everything from the housing thing to the difficulty I’d been having finding a job after being let go from Dunkin’ Donuts in December. To my surprise, they understood (the reason I was surprised is a post for another time) and I knew that whatever disagreements and issues I’d had with them, it had to be better than the conditions I was currently living in. I dropped my classes that day and moved home the next day.

Adria helped me find a job once I moved back and I’m still at said job – working as an after care counselor at the school she teaches at. I’d already finished the process to be a substitute teacher in Orlando, so I just transferred my info down to the Broward office and voila – steady-ish jobs, one of the biggest issues I had in Orlando. I still had the editing job I’d started in Orlando at Odyssey, which eventually ended up becoming a content mill that was less than honest about its changes. This was the punch that knocked me out for a couple of months and the start of my existential crisis in regards to writing.

I’ve discovered that, while I’m learning to live healthily with depression and generalized anxiety disorder, I need a job that won’t give me paycheck anxiety. Also living paycheck to paycheck is miserable.

I feel like making writing a paying career is such a long shot at this point that I’m afraid of even wanting it anymore. I’m flummoxed as to what to even do with my life if it’s not writing. I’ve thought about social work since a secondary passion of mine is psychology and I like creating a supportive emotional learning environment for the kids but… I don’t know. I’d need to do my masters, which I wouldn’t mind, but it would have to be fully funded or mostly at least. I don’t want to make it hard for myself to pay back my student loans. I’ve finally found a psychologist that seems promising and he’s helping me to believe that I can have good things, to let the past GO mentally, and that I need to forgive myself for my past mistakes and/or failures. I also found a decent psychiatrist who actually knows what the hell he’s talking about and I think I might have finally found the right medication to help me manage the more physical symptoms/destructive thoughts/behaviors this illness would rain down on me before. Also, about music journalism: I still like doing CD reviews and interviews, so maybe the key is being more selective about the ones I do so I don’t get as burnt out as I’ve gotten? We’ll see what happens. All I know is that I hope I get this shit figured sooner rather than later. Figured you guys should know why I’ve been a bit of a ghost in regards to music journalism… been trying to get my head right.