I had no idea that Goldie already knew Shiloh. It really wasn’t a big deal to me. If anything, it would have been more of a big deal to Goldie had he known that Shiloh had a crush on me. I have to admit that, at one time, I had a small crush on him too. It was one of those cute crushes that neither of us would dare act upon, because our mutual friend, Kaila, happened to be his best friend and a very close friend of mine. You never want to get involved with someone like that, because it could cause tensions between friends if something should go wrong. It was also one of those things that you just didn’t mention to your boyfriend, because it would probably cause unnecessary confusion in your own relationship. I was with Goldie now, so whatever attraction we used to share no longer mattered.
I didn’t really pay attention to the conversation Goldie and Shiloh were having in the club, because I was busy catching up with Kaila. However, by the end of the night, Goldie had asked if Shiloh and Kaila could come back to the house with us to hang out. It was late, but I didn’t mind; they were all cool people. Plus, Kaila was actually the first of my friends to even meet my new boyfriend. Kaila came to the house with Shiloh and June, her new girlfriend.
We made it back to the house and everyone settled in the living room with music playing lightly in the background. June had started rolling a cigarillo when Shiloh pulled out a little plastic baggie. UGGH! It was now obvious what Goldie and Shiloh had in common and what they had been discussing at the club. This routine was starting to get tired now. I didn’t mind the weed so much as the cocaine, which they so affectionately called “Becky” or “that white girl.” Goldie went into my bathroom and brought back one of my nice, decorative mirrors and a razor blade. I can remember first thinking; this is not what my life is supposed to be like. I then thought, of all the damn mirrors in this house, why the hell would you pick that one?
The whole episode just brought back memories of my aunt. I remember her showing up at my parents’ door late one night with her young children in tow. She had left her husband in the middle of the night, because he had a horrible coke habit. I was never told nor did I ever ask the details of what made her leave him, but it must have been serious enough for her to drive so far away. They ended up living with us for a few months while she got back on her feet and got her life on track as a newly single mother. I was in middle school at the time, but growing up with that memory was probably one of the many that had, until this point, steered me very clear of any involvement with cocaine or any drug for that matter.
I’m sure that technically, one could say that I was a victim of peer pressure, but I’d like to think differently. No one ever “pressured” me to do anything. I was in my own home, and everyone there was my guest, so I could have said no at any time. My thinking was more along the lines of live and let live. Moreover, as I transitioned into my early 20’s, I was a lot more experimental than I was as a teenager. As long as I was in a safe environment, like my home or a trusted friend’s home, then I felt like it was okay to try it once to see what it was all about. Of course, there are still those substances that you just don’t approach, no matter what (e.g. crack, heroine, crystal meth, etc.).
In this case, it was the dazed-and-confused state of what I believed to be love that clouded my judgment more than any drug could. Although my name was on the mortgage, it was clearly Goldie who was running things. He told me he loved me, and he treated me like I was the most important person in his life, so I let him get away with whatever he wished. My home was no longer simply my home. It was our home to share, and I couldn’t very well tell him what he could and could not do. I was weak for love, and I gave in to this nonsense, because my heart was full of an intimate love and affection that friends and family could never fulfill. No one could give me that emotion that he gave, and I had to protect that.
As we smoked and did a few lines, we all got a lot more acquainted. Kaila and I were close friends in the sense that we had known each other for a few years, and she was part of the crew with which I normally hung out. We had never spent any time together outside of the group, so this was a first. There were twelve of us altogether, six guys and six girls. Others came and went depending on whom we were dating or which outside friends we would bring along to group functions, but, at the core, there was the twelve of us, and we were all as tight as a family. Shiloh was one of those outside friends that Kaila would bring over from time to time, and this is how I knew him.
Although, as a group, we had spent the last few years doing just about everything together, we were slowly growing distant as each of us began to grow into our own careers and personal lives. I had been slightly estranged from my crew since I started dating and working on establishing my company, so none of them had met Goldie; Kaila was the first. It turned out that Kaila had not been hanging with the crew as much those days either, so I was the first to meet her new girlfriend, June. We ended up having a nice time that night, so Shiloh gave Goldie his number and said we should all hang out again sometime soon. Goldie took him up on that offer, and I started to see more of them as they would invite us over to Kaila’s apartment, or we would have them all over at the house.
As the weeks went along, it seemed that Goldie and I were settling into being a couple very nicely. He was working every day, and with him out of sight, I was making a lot of progress with my new client. The Fourth of July was coming around, and my parents had planned a huge barbeque. My mother invited all of her siblings, their kids, grandchildren, and all of our friends to their house. When she called me to let me know about the party, she slipped in that sly, “you can bring a friend,” in there to let me know she wanted to meet Goldie.
I won’t get into my whole coming out story, because that is an entry by itself, but after that process, I was very reserved with my family about being gay. It is, as it should be, simply a part of me, but that does not define me. Because of the way it was handled, I always felt like I had something to prove; that I can be who I am and make no apologies to anyone. I can also be myself and not throw that part of my life in your face. After I moved out of my parents’ house at 21, I didn’t really speak on the subject to them anymore. This was it. This was the first time that I would ever bring a boyfriend to meet any of my family. I had been reserving that right for someone very special, because I didn’t want to give them the impression that I was like stereotypical gay people, moving from one relationship to the next.
On July 4th, Goldie accompanied me to my parents’ house where many, many of my relatives had gathered. Now, my parents have managed to do quite well for themselves, but they are still from humble beginnings in the rural South United States. With that said, when we all get together, we can be very country. Goldie, originating from Philadelphia, was introduced to a way of life he had never seen before. He witnessed my mother shoot a raccoon in the head with her .38 snug-nose. My aunt proceeded to skin, dress, and cook it. Although I don’t eat raccoon, it was nothing new to me. Goldie, on the other hand was mesmerized; it was a first for him, and he had to try everything. I think he fell in love with raccoon that day.
I believe most of my family fell in love with Goldie that day. They started out by slyly asking me, “is that your ‘friend’?” When I confirmed what they had already assumed, they commenced to grill Goldie about his past, how we met, and any other private question they could think to ask. My mother greeted him with loving, open arms, as she does with all of our friends and guest. It doesn’t matter who you are, if you come to our home, my mother will treat you like you are part of the family until you act like you are not. My father was cordial, but they didn’t really talk much. I wouldn’t say that it was a matter of dislike more than it was a matter of observation on my father’s end. He has always been the quiet type that will stand back and watch you as he learns everything he needs to know. I’m sure his reaction was, if you’ve decided to date his son, then you better be worth it.
We spent the rest of the evening dancing to oldies and playing Spades, Dominoes, and Tonk (Tunk). By the time we left that evening, my mother had given Goldie her business card and told him that if he ever needed anything to just give her a call. Then she ended with a stern look and said, “take care of my son.” As I drove off that evening, I was relieved that things had gone so well. Goldie had an opportunity to meet my parents and my brothers. Moreover, the cat was out of the bag that we were living together. After the 4th of July, the relationship that I thought was so wonderful became very sour very fast.
Earlier, you might remember that I mentioned I was unemployed and working to establish my own design firm. After I left my previous employer, I decided to take a step out on faith and follow my passion. I had been living off my saving for quite some time, when I finally landed my first major client. This was my first real gig, so I was still inexperienced at deal making, but we came to an agreement that the work I did would be commission-based. I had formed a partnership with another company, and between the two firms, we would produce a charitable function at a major HBCU. Our compensation would be a percentage of the total funds we were able to generate through this high-end celebrity fundraiser.
Everything seemed to be going fine and on schedule until our primary talent, around whom the event was based, came up with a conflict. This conflict meant that we had to change the date of the event, not only to coincide with our talent’s schedule, but for the availability of the building which we were getting for free. This also meant that we had to reconfirm each and every celebrity on our guest list and make additions or cancellations where necessary. That one date change pushed our show back two months, which meant that I would have to stretch my money an additional two months to survive.
With Goldie working and contributing however little it was, it at least was a help, until one afternoon, Goldie came home for lunch clearly upset. “Man, fuck that job! I’m not going back.”
“What the hell…” I began. “What happened? What’s going on?”
“Man, I quit. I’m not about to sit there and let that bitch manager talk to me like that. I don’t even like that job, having to answer phones all day and listen to people complain. Fuck those people, fuck that bitch, and fuck that job.”
“Well, Goldie, what are you going to do about money? You know we have bills here…”
“No,” he interrupted, “this is your house. YOU have bills.
“What?” I was shocked that he would say something so ridiculous. “As long as you’re living here, you are going to contribute, and these bills become your bills too.”
“Fine, I’ll find another job, but I’m not going back there.”
“Well, you need to find something quickly,” I said smugly, “because my date got pushed back 2 months. I don’t need any extra stress when I’m already dealing with enough stress for this show.”
Goldie had a look of rage in his eyes. “What the fuck! How are you going to sit here and tell me I need to find a job? I’m the only one who’s been bringing in a paycheck anyway. You don’t make any money. Why don’t YOU go find a job damnit? I don’t even understand how somebody with your skills and talent could just sit around all day and not go out and make money. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
BREAK: Here is a lesson for any entrepreneur, aspiring artist, or in fact, anyone with a dream. Only surround yourself with people who support your dream and vision, and those people who can help make your dream a reality. The minute you encounter negative thinking, you need to remove that from your space. Goldie never had any real education, since he dropped out of high school. He had resigned himself to believing that since he did not have a high school diploma or GED, that there was very little in this world he could accomplish. It was also nearly impossible to explain to him how my career worked. It was something around which he could hardly fit his head. His idea of working for a living was, you work and you get paid, period. His street mentality wouldn’t allow him to understand how I could pour my soul into a project with no pay for months, because I could see the big payout down the road.
After a few weeks of Goldie being unemployed, we were starting to struggle. I had been living of my savings for about five months and had another month until the new date for our show. I had given myself a six-month window to make things happen, so it looked like I would barely make it when tragedy struck the nation and my project at the same time.
In August of 2005, Hurricane Katrina swept through New Orleans and the Gulf Coast, United States, changing so many lives forever, including my own. I have to admire the way that people from around the nation came to the aid of those affected by the devastation, even when our own government was late to respond. However, this kindheartedness did not bode well for my special project.
We were in the process of putting together a fundraiser for an institute at a prominent HBCU. After Katrina, celebrity publicists and managers started calling left and right to cancel. They could not attend, because they were doing a Katrina fundraiser, or they could not give money anymore, because they were giving money to Katrina victims. Through all the devastation in New Orleans, I too was devastated. What was I going to do now? I had invested so much of my time and money into this, knowing it was a risk that would have a huge payback if it was successful. Now, we would again have to regroup and reschedule. The college board of directors asked us to move our event to sometime in the winter. We decided on December.
Weeks after the mass exodus from New Orleans, we found that hundreds of thousands of evacuees had migrated to the Houston area. Everyone in the Gulf Coast region was already on edge when the National Weather Service issued a warning stating that an even more intense Hurricane Rita was headed straight for Houston, Texas. After New Orleans, the city was in panic mode. The fourth-largest city was already the largest host for Katrina evacuees. We were still dealing with the first catastrophe when we had to figure out how to move the hundreds of thousands of Katrina victims plus over four million Houston area residents were now in danger. Although many people were attempting to evacuate the city, my mother said she was not leaving her home. She said her house was built to withstand hurricane-force winds, and she refused to venture out into the confusion.
Goldie and I had to make a decision about what we wanted to do. We spent the next few days watching the coverage of the storm as it traversed the Gulf of Mexico. At its present course, it was heading directly towards us. If it continued our way, we could choose to stay at the house and wait out the storm which could be very dangerous, since my house was not nearly as strong as my parents’. Our second option would be to evacuate like many others in the city would choose to do. Just then, the decision was made for us when the electricity went off in the house. In the dark and eerie silence, we both looked at each other with shock and bewilderment, but instantly we knew that playing with the bills had finally caught up to us.
I had to scramble quickly to make some things happen. I was slightly embarrassed that I had allowed the power to be shut off at my house, so I didn’t want to call my parents to help me out. I already knew they would hit me with a barrage of questions and criticisms. How could I have let things go this far before coming to them? Why was Goldie not contributing to the bills? I didn’t want to hear any of this; I just needed a couple more days until my unemployment check arrived, so I could pay the bill. I called an old friend and asked if we could crash at his place for a couple days, and he agreed.
I explained what happened to my friend, and he gave me some of the same criticism I should have expected from my parents, only it didn’t seem as harsh coming from him rather than my mother. Mothers have a way of phrasing things just the right way to make you feel like an utter failure sometimes. Friday came, and I was able to pay the electricity bill, but they gave me a 24-48 hour time frame to have the power back on, which meant it would be Monday at the earliest. As the storm grew nearer, my friend decided the time had come for him to evacuate to Dallas. Since he was leaving, this meant that we had to make other arrangements.
All of a sudden, I felt homeless with a lot of baggage. In anticipation of major destruction, I had packed up my computer, my dog, some clothes, and my boyfriend. Unfortunately, when it came to survival, my boyfriend seemed about as useful as my dog. He was selfish and only ever knew how to survive for himself and not for anyone else. With all of this baggage and no money, I knew there was only one place left for me to go, my parents’ house.
I didn’t really pay attention to the conversation Goldie and Shiloh were having in the club, because I was busy catching up with Kaila. However, by the end of the night, Goldie had asked if Shiloh and Kaila could come back to the house with us to hang out. It was late, but I didn’t mind; they were all cool people. Plus, Kaila was actually the first of my friends to even meet my new boyfriend. Kaila came to the house with Shiloh and June, her new girlfriend.
We made it back to the house and everyone settled in the living room with music playing lightly in the background. June had started rolling a cigarillo when Shiloh pulled out a little plastic baggie. UGGH! It was now obvious what Goldie and Shiloh had in common and what they had been discussing at the club. This routine was starting to get tired now. I didn’t mind the weed so much as the cocaine, which they so affectionately called “Becky” or “that white girl.” Goldie went into my bathroom and brought back one of my nice, decorative mirrors and a razor blade. I can remember first thinking; this is not what my life is supposed to be like. I then thought, of all the damn mirrors in this house, why the hell would you pick that one?
The whole episode just brought back memories of my aunt. I remember her showing up at my parents’ door late one night with her young children in tow. She had left her husband in the middle of the night, because he had a horrible coke habit. I was never told nor did I ever ask the details of what made her leave him, but it must have been serious enough for her to drive so far away. They ended up living with us for a few months while she got back on her feet and got her life on track as a newly single mother. I was in middle school at the time, but growing up with that memory was probably one of the many that had, until this point, steered me very clear of any involvement with cocaine or any drug for that matter.
I’m sure that technically, one could say that I was a victim of peer pressure, but I’d like to think differently. No one ever “pressured” me to do anything. I was in my own home, and everyone there was my guest, so I could have said no at any time. My thinking was more along the lines of live and let live. Moreover, as I transitioned into my early 20’s, I was a lot more experimental than I was as a teenager. As long as I was in a safe environment, like my home or a trusted friend’s home, then I felt like it was okay to try it once to see what it was all about. Of course, there are still those substances that you just don’t approach, no matter what (e.g. crack, heroine, crystal meth, etc.).
In this case, it was the dazed-and-confused state of what I believed to be love that clouded my judgment more than any drug could. Although my name was on the mortgage, it was clearly Goldie who was running things. He told me he loved me, and he treated me like I was the most important person in his life, so I let him get away with whatever he wished. My home was no longer simply my home. It was our home to share, and I couldn’t very well tell him what he could and could not do. I was weak for love, and I gave in to this nonsense, because my heart was full of an intimate love and affection that friends and family could never fulfill. No one could give me that emotion that he gave, and I had to protect that.
As we smoked and did a few lines, we all got a lot more acquainted. Kaila and I were close friends in the sense that we had known each other for a few years, and she was part of the crew with which I normally hung out. We had never spent any time together outside of the group, so this was a first. There were twelve of us altogether, six guys and six girls. Others came and went depending on whom we were dating or which outside friends we would bring along to group functions, but, at the core, there was the twelve of us, and we were all as tight as a family. Shiloh was one of those outside friends that Kaila would bring over from time to time, and this is how I knew him.
Although, as a group, we had spent the last few years doing just about everything together, we were slowly growing distant as each of us began to grow into our own careers and personal lives. I had been slightly estranged from my crew since I started dating and working on establishing my company, so none of them had met Goldie; Kaila was the first. It turned out that Kaila had not been hanging with the crew as much those days either, so I was the first to meet her new girlfriend, June. We ended up having a nice time that night, so Shiloh gave Goldie his number and said we should all hang out again sometime soon. Goldie took him up on that offer, and I started to see more of them as they would invite us over to Kaila’s apartment, or we would have them all over at the house.
As the weeks went along, it seemed that Goldie and I were settling into being a couple very nicely. He was working every day, and with him out of sight, I was making a lot of progress with my new client. The Fourth of July was coming around, and my parents had planned a huge barbeque. My mother invited all of her siblings, their kids, grandchildren, and all of our friends to their house. When she called me to let me know about the party, she slipped in that sly, “you can bring a friend,” in there to let me know she wanted to meet Goldie.
I won’t get into my whole coming out story, because that is an entry by itself, but after that process, I was very reserved with my family about being gay. It is, as it should be, simply a part of me, but that does not define me. Because of the way it was handled, I always felt like I had something to prove; that I can be who I am and make no apologies to anyone. I can also be myself and not throw that part of my life in your face. After I moved out of my parents’ house at 21, I didn’t really speak on the subject to them anymore. This was it. This was the first time that I would ever bring a boyfriend to meet any of my family. I had been reserving that right for someone very special, because I didn’t want to give them the impression that I was like stereotypical gay people, moving from one relationship to the next.
On July 4th, Goldie accompanied me to my parents’ house where many, many of my relatives had gathered. Now, my parents have managed to do quite well for themselves, but they are still from humble beginnings in the rural South United States. With that said, when we all get together, we can be very country. Goldie, originating from Philadelphia, was introduced to a way of life he had never seen before. He witnessed my mother shoot a raccoon in the head with her .38 snug-nose. My aunt proceeded to skin, dress, and cook it. Although I don’t eat raccoon, it was nothing new to me. Goldie, on the other hand was mesmerized; it was a first for him, and he had to try everything. I think he fell in love with raccoon that day.
I believe most of my family fell in love with Goldie that day. They started out by slyly asking me, “is that your ‘friend’?” When I confirmed what they had already assumed, they commenced to grill Goldie about his past, how we met, and any other private question they could think to ask. My mother greeted him with loving, open arms, as she does with all of our friends and guest. It doesn’t matter who you are, if you come to our home, my mother will treat you like you are part of the family until you act like you are not. My father was cordial, but they didn’t really talk much. I wouldn’t say that it was a matter of dislike more than it was a matter of observation on my father’s end. He has always been the quiet type that will stand back and watch you as he learns everything he needs to know. I’m sure his reaction was, if you’ve decided to date his son, then you better be worth it.
We spent the rest of the evening dancing to oldies and playing Spades, Dominoes, and Tonk (Tunk). By the time we left that evening, my mother had given Goldie her business card and told him that if he ever needed anything to just give her a call. Then she ended with a stern look and said, “take care of my son.” As I drove off that evening, I was relieved that things had gone so well. Goldie had an opportunity to meet my parents and my brothers. Moreover, the cat was out of the bag that we were living together. After the 4th of July, the relationship that I thought was so wonderful became very sour very fast.
Earlier, you might remember that I mentioned I was unemployed and working to establish my own design firm. After I left my previous employer, I decided to take a step out on faith and follow my passion. I had been living off my saving for quite some time, when I finally landed my first major client. This was my first real gig, so I was still inexperienced at deal making, but we came to an agreement that the work I did would be commission-based. I had formed a partnership with another company, and between the two firms, we would produce a charitable function at a major HBCU. Our compensation would be a percentage of the total funds we were able to generate through this high-end celebrity fundraiser.
Everything seemed to be going fine and on schedule until our primary talent, around whom the event was based, came up with a conflict. This conflict meant that we had to change the date of the event, not only to coincide with our talent’s schedule, but for the availability of the building which we were getting for free. This also meant that we had to reconfirm each and every celebrity on our guest list and make additions or cancellations where necessary. That one date change pushed our show back two months, which meant that I would have to stretch my money an additional two months to survive.
With Goldie working and contributing however little it was, it at least was a help, until one afternoon, Goldie came home for lunch clearly upset. “Man, fuck that job! I’m not going back.”
“What the hell…” I began. “What happened? What’s going on?”
“Man, I quit. I’m not about to sit there and let that bitch manager talk to me like that. I don’t even like that job, having to answer phones all day and listen to people complain. Fuck those people, fuck that bitch, and fuck that job.”
“Well, Goldie, what are you going to do about money? You know we have bills here…”
“No,” he interrupted, “this is your house. YOU have bills.
“What?” I was shocked that he would say something so ridiculous. “As long as you’re living here, you are going to contribute, and these bills become your bills too.”
“Fine, I’ll find another job, but I’m not going back there.”
“Well, you need to find something quickly,” I said smugly, “because my date got pushed back 2 months. I don’t need any extra stress when I’m already dealing with enough stress for this show.”
Goldie had a look of rage in his eyes. “What the fuck! How are you going to sit here and tell me I need to find a job? I’m the only one who’s been bringing in a paycheck anyway. You don’t make any money. Why don’t YOU go find a job damnit? I don’t even understand how somebody with your skills and talent could just sit around all day and not go out and make money. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
BREAK: Here is a lesson for any entrepreneur, aspiring artist, or in fact, anyone with a dream. Only surround yourself with people who support your dream and vision, and those people who can help make your dream a reality. The minute you encounter negative thinking, you need to remove that from your space. Goldie never had any real education, since he dropped out of high school. He had resigned himself to believing that since he did not have a high school diploma or GED, that there was very little in this world he could accomplish. It was also nearly impossible to explain to him how my career worked. It was something around which he could hardly fit his head. His idea of working for a living was, you work and you get paid, period. His street mentality wouldn’t allow him to understand how I could pour my soul into a project with no pay for months, because I could see the big payout down the road.
After a few weeks of Goldie being unemployed, we were starting to struggle. I had been living of my savings for about five months and had another month until the new date for our show. I had given myself a six-month window to make things happen, so it looked like I would barely make it when tragedy struck the nation and my project at the same time.
In August of 2005, Hurricane Katrina swept through New Orleans and the Gulf Coast, United States, changing so many lives forever, including my own. I have to admire the way that people from around the nation came to the aid of those affected by the devastation, even when our own government was late to respond. However, this kindheartedness did not bode well for my special project.
We were in the process of putting together a fundraiser for an institute at a prominent HBCU. After Katrina, celebrity publicists and managers started calling left and right to cancel. They could not attend, because they were doing a Katrina fundraiser, or they could not give money anymore, because they were giving money to Katrina victims. Through all the devastation in New Orleans, I too was devastated. What was I going to do now? I had invested so much of my time and money into this, knowing it was a risk that would have a huge payback if it was successful. Now, we would again have to regroup and reschedule. The college board of directors asked us to move our event to sometime in the winter. We decided on December.
Weeks after the mass exodus from New Orleans, we found that hundreds of thousands of evacuees had migrated to the Houston area. Everyone in the Gulf Coast region was already on edge when the National Weather Service issued a warning stating that an even more intense Hurricane Rita was headed straight for Houston, Texas. After New Orleans, the city was in panic mode. The fourth-largest city was already the largest host for Katrina evacuees. We were still dealing with the first catastrophe when we had to figure out how to move the hundreds of thousands of Katrina victims plus over four million Houston area residents were now in danger. Although many people were attempting to evacuate the city, my mother said she was not leaving her home. She said her house was built to withstand hurricane-force winds, and she refused to venture out into the confusion.
Goldie and I had to make a decision about what we wanted to do. We spent the next few days watching the coverage of the storm as it traversed the Gulf of Mexico. At its present course, it was heading directly towards us. If it continued our way, we could choose to stay at the house and wait out the storm which could be very dangerous, since my house was not nearly as strong as my parents’. Our second option would be to evacuate like many others in the city would choose to do. Just then, the decision was made for us when the electricity went off in the house. In the dark and eerie silence, we both looked at each other with shock and bewilderment, but instantly we knew that playing with the bills had finally caught up to us.
I had to scramble quickly to make some things happen. I was slightly embarrassed that I had allowed the power to be shut off at my house, so I didn’t want to call my parents to help me out. I already knew they would hit me with a barrage of questions and criticisms. How could I have let things go this far before coming to them? Why was Goldie not contributing to the bills? I didn’t want to hear any of this; I just needed a couple more days until my unemployment check arrived, so I could pay the bill. I called an old friend and asked if we could crash at his place for a couple days, and he agreed.
I explained what happened to my friend, and he gave me some of the same criticism I should have expected from my parents, only it didn’t seem as harsh coming from him rather than my mother. Mothers have a way of phrasing things just the right way to make you feel like an utter failure sometimes. Friday came, and I was able to pay the electricity bill, but they gave me a 24-48 hour time frame to have the power back on, which meant it would be Monday at the earliest. As the storm grew nearer, my friend decided the time had come for him to evacuate to Dallas. Since he was leaving, this meant that we had to make other arrangements.
All of a sudden, I felt homeless with a lot of baggage. In anticipation of major destruction, I had packed up my computer, my dog, some clothes, and my boyfriend. Unfortunately, when it came to survival, my boyfriend seemed about as useful as my dog. He was selfish and only ever knew how to survive for himself and not for anyone else. With all of this baggage and no money, I knew there was only one place left for me to go, my parents’ house.
I’ll leave you here for now, but please stay tuned. Still to come:
- Lesbian Crackheads
- Emergency 911
- The Red Shoes
