First, the news. I will begin by saying that yesterday I finally signed up for Facebook. It was a carefull weighed decision, both in the interest of my writing and personal reasons. Besides, I can connect with my favorite modern authors on Facebook. I know its reputation for being one of the largest social networking sites on the Internet, and I want to take part in that. I now have a profile badge, i.e. a “link,” to my Facebook page here on my blog. Meticulous, frequent readers might have noticed the addition of a link to my YouTube channel under My own websites. Although I am not a filmmaker myself, I certainly enjoy other YouTube videos, and I want to have all my favorites in one organized place online, so what better spot to store them all than YouTube itself? My blog has passed its 1000th view, as evinced from my blog stats (not my doing, I assure you). Also, though this may not technically be “news,” I am publishing my 44th article today on the Examiner, concluding my six-part series of articles about Lloyd Alexander’s The Chronicles of Prydain and its prequel.
Now…the tragedies. Last Saturday night (April 3), my mom and I were trying to sleep in our car at our usual spot. However, at around 11 p.m., three punks came to our car twice in succession; they not only dumped blue and green paint all over our car, but they also hit the front windshield with a heavy metal object, creating a deep fracture in the glass about 12 inches long (30.5 cm). In addition, they were simultaneously yelling atrocious profanities at us during these terrifying actions; I have to admit, half proudly and sheepishly, that during my rage and despair I yelled back at them profanities of my own, although I really wanted to beat them up. It was dark, and we did not have cell phones or even remote access to a phone, so we could do nothing. We could not clearly see the faces of our attackers, and even though my mom screamed, no one came to help us. Another example of the extent of human “compassion.” Since our car was covered in paint that would dry, we had to immediately go to the nearest gas station and wash it all off. So picture us…it’s 11 p.m., and I have to get out of the car in my shocked, shaky, and sleepy state to wash the car from a quarter-inch layer of disgusting, toxic house paint. Not to mention that drug dealers, prostitutes, and other elements were parading around. The water from the gas station’s hose was icy, and my only comfort was indulging myself in my daydreams to lighten the difficulty of my wet task. I finished the job successfully, but I ended up soaking wet in the process. The windshield was mercifully intact, and we survived. But our spirits were badly shaken, making further sleep almost impossible. After my hard task, my exhausted hands and body argued with my mind…and won. I fell asleep. But we had lost our sleeping place…the other tragedy occurred just yesterday. It was twofold: in the early morning I had another severe migraine attack, which started out as a temporary loss of my peripheral vision; then, a little later, my mom and I discovered that we had not received our monthly supply of Food Stamps from welfare (for no reason), leaving us completely without food and on a very possible path of starvation and begging. I feel…desperate. Very desperate. I want to romantically say that I will starve first before I ever beg anyone for anything, but do I really know how far my starvation and desperation could push me?