Roach Motel

roach motel

Tell us about your first day at something — your first day of school, first day of work, first day living on your own, first day blogging, first day as a parent, whatever.

My first day on my own must have been a Saturday or Sunday. I just got a regular 40 hour job (one of the few I ever had) and my parents pushed me out the door as I was 25 and it was well beyond time to be home.

It must have been the weekend that I moved to a roach infested motel on a street that they also had dirty movie houses at.  My relatives had owned a motel on this street when it was more er, reputable.  It had gone down down down.

At work, they overworked us newbies for the first month for some reason having us in a separate room on a special project.  The motel lasted a month. The job lasted just shy of two years.

The motel “apartment” consisted of a filthy roach infested “kitchen” a main room with a few sticks of furniture and a bed with a squishy mattress. (Roach doodies all over the cupboard). The shower was finished in concrete. It reminded me of the Holocaust for some reason when like one of the prisoners of the concentration camp has to take a shower in one of those movies to work as a house servant, it was a shower like this. Grey concrete.  I hated taking showers there.  I bought some horrible budget shampoo that I hated to go with it.

My window did not lock. One of my co workers had suggested this lovely place at my OLD job. I paid a visit to my co worker and her boyfriend in their room. Their stove only had one working burner.  We watched movies and her boyfriend made bigoted comments.

One night I woke up and there were emergency vehicles everywhere. I asked someone what had happened and they said some woman had been beat up by her boyfriend. I hoped it wasn’t my ex coworker. Then I thought about my window that did not lock.

There were not many cell phones then and my room had no phone. I had to use a phone booth by the highway.  It was a green wooden phone booth on gravel.  Oh the good old days….

The bus situation was bad. If I lived in that area now there would be mass transit to take care of me, but, back then I had two options: walk a mile and take 3 busses or walk over a mile and take 2 slow busses. It was two hours each way.  Add that to working 10 hours a day at least and I was tired.

I lasted there one miserable month. My “apartment” was next to the Manager’s and I could hear them coughing all night and morning as they were heavy smokers.  My motel was right near the train tracks, you’d first hear this earth shaking rumble then they would blow the whistle.  Loud.  At 3am.  No rules about the horn on this side of town.

Finally, my Father moved me to a Efficiency, Buffet, or whatever you call it closer to work. It had its problems too, but I was off the ground, there was a security door, and my stove and fridge worked. I had to put my grandmother’s old mattress on a Murphy Bed to sleep. It was better than Old Squishy. I got a phone in a few weeks.

My first phone did not ring. I had to buy a phone at K Mart or something. The avocado green phone was a relic taken from my folks house. I bought my first push button phone–it was 1991.  I was not used to its shriek- y ring.  We had chimes for the phone at my house and the standard ring at my grandmother’s, etc.

I had no computer nor a TV until later that year when I got one for my birthday. I would bring library books home and read for 2 or so hours until bed. My love of reading began. Before that I rarely read for pleasure.  I didn’t get online until 2005.

I would listen to talk radio as well. It was not as Conservative as it is now. A few years later, almost all talk radio became right wing. Despite a brief fling with Air America and later with Dr. Laura and Coast to Coast, I stopped the talk radio habit.

The motel is boarded up now and even that area of town is getting built up due to the Mass Transit.  Fancy apartment buildings, a new Target, etc….are all around now.  Before it was roach motels and trailer parks.  I never pass that area of town without thinking of it though.

ID

Hi,

Sorry for not writing so long.  It seems I read the Prompts and I’m out of ideas and if I have one I”m afraid it reveals too much information.  I don’t know if it’s the medication but it seems as if my “muse” is gone for writing.  The joy I used to get from writing is gone. 

The perps are still around of course.  Somehow they have managed to take my only friend and make her believe a lie so unbelievable I’m surprised they never came up with it before.  She hates me now and it could be for keeps.

The title of this post is ID as in state ID.  I just got my State ID in the mail today, you know, the one you need to cash checks and produce at Food Stamps, etc..I decided to compare my current ID with the one I had ten years ago.  Ten years ago, I was a ti but did not know it yet.  I was getting perped but still had a few happy moments.  I thought my problems would end someday.

On both photos I weigh about the same (this time about 20 lb less in reality because I lied last time and I have lost weight) but the photos are shocking.  In the old photo I appear fat and my dyed black hair a bit disheveled but I have a mischievious smile on my face and appear young.  I wear no make up.  I look friendly.  I have a tan from walking.

On this photo, taken a couple of weeks ago, I look old and sad.  I’ve aged for sure but my eyes look tired and dead as well.  My hair is groomed in this one and I wear makeup yet my hair looks dull and lifeless where in the old photo it shone.  Even though I weigh a bit less my face looks fuller.  I look half dead in this one.  I look like a person who’s bereaved.  My face is pale because I’m afraid to walk anymore alone.

Thanks perps.

Schmattes!

a.baa-Angry-cat

How important are clothes to you? Describe your style, if you have one, and tell us how appearance impacts how you feel about yourself.

My biggest fashion accessory is now..holes.  Most of my “clothes” come from Wally World and are pretty junky.  I hear you can nab some nice stuff at clothing banks in rich neighborhoods but have not tried it myself.  My mother was a fashion snob and I think I ended up going the other way.

Growing up I used to be concerned with what was in style and tried to dress like the others but gave up in college and wore what was comfortable…jeans and t shirts.  Earlier on, I tried to look “preppy” and even tried for a brief time to look “punk” with odd colored hair. Later on, I tried to look Goth (LOL) with black hair and fingernails and a huge jeweled cross and tons of makeup. Fail. If I had the time, money and freedom I would probably dress in jeans and t shirts still just nicer ones. I would own a few dresses as well. I bought a few skirts a few years ago when I wanted to be “modest” and try wearing skirts only. It only lasted a week. The perps took the skirts as a come on and started propositioning me. I feel safest in pants. I wear too many tank tops and other tops with holes that certain felines have made. I’m too poor to replace my clothes.

So far, this year all I’ve bought is one long sleeved fall top. I made a trip to the Thrift Store to buy some stuff at lower prices and ended up with 3 jeans and 3 tops. One top mysteriously got lost on the bus ride home and the other 2 fit…one is a bit tight and the other is too low cut. The jeans…well, one pair was small as I mistook its size and the other two fit, snugly, but have embroidery on the pockets that are in the “wrong” color according to the perps. One pair has so much blue embroidery on the back I tie a jacket on to cover it up when I wear them the other pair I’ve taken a risk and worn without a covering jacket.

If I was free I’d wear more styled clothing and allow myself to indulge in a fad sometimes. I’d own a leather jacket and a Colombia parka. I’d wear Doc Martens for casual or flip flops when it’s hot. I’d also own special shoes for working out.

I might also own a few skirts and dresses, not like the long dark stuff I bought, that are cute and could be used on social (hahahaha) occasions.  Nothing above the knee.

I think I’d belong to a sort of fashion type that dresses sort of dramatically without making a scene. Standing out without being an asshole. Classic styles with a little extra punch.

Of course, if I worked I could be stuck at a job where I wore a uniform so on my off days I would be wearing the schmattes.  Styled by cat.