We Are Homeless.

Anger doesn't quite cover it. Mad...nah, too weak. Let's try BLINDING, WHITE RAGE. That sounds okay. Wait, I've got it. Add some humiliation into the mix, and you'll be pretty close to what is floating around in my mind.

Where do I begin with this tale of madness...literally MADNESS. Certifiable, once committed madness.

We've now been in lovely Phoenix for a 2 and 1/2 weeks. Okay, not too long...certainly not long enough to make someone hate us with a psychotic, irrational loathing. At least I don't think so. But, then again, I'm not certifiably insane.

Let's just put it this way. If you ever decide to move in with a friend, at their suggestion, when you're down on your luck, and need a few weeks to a few months to get back on your feet, and they are generous enough to offer a room in their home, make sure you ask ahead of time if they might be harboring an illegal immigrant with paranoid schizophrenic delusions. It might save you a lot of heartache. Of course, I think back to my upbringing, and until today I had forgotten this valuable lesson given to me by my mother. Why oh why didn't I remember these words of wisdom.

Well, last week, our generous host (note it is now singular) told us the tale of his roomie/former boyfriend/I don't know what the hell to call it, nor do I care at this point, and apparently he has a rather colored past; as far as his mental health.

Update. I was writing this f***ing blog and it didn't save properly, so poof, many words gone missing.

Suffice to say that currently the other half and I are (OH, WHAT DO I CARE ABOUT WHO READS THIS...GET OFFENDED), COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY FUCKED.

We are, in fact homeless. The past two days have only barely surpassed the fuck-up-ed-ness of the days prior to our move from Chicago. Stress can't begin to describe what I'm experiencing.

There's so much rage within me right now, I dare say, I'm actually frightened by what I'm feeling.

I don't feel as though I have many folks whom I can turn too; certainly not for our current monetary needs; and definitely, based on some of the reactions I've received to the tale of our current situation, many folks whom I can count on for sympathy or emotional support. I'm scared. I'm angry. I'm stressed, and I'm seething with a rage I've never experienced before.

Today, we returned to the home; with a police escort to get us into the home, to get the remainder of our clothes and personal belongings. I couldn't even look @ "Reynaldo" (that's the name I've given--not his real name--of the live-in psycho our friend David had).

In good news, I did get a collections job w/ Wells Fargo; yesterday, the morning of the shit hitting the fan. It doesn't start until mid-June.

If you want more details of this Jerry Springer episode, feel free to ask. But again, let me confirm that we are actually homeless; not the fun, fake kind we were when we were living with friend David. Our hotel is paid up for another 6 days, and then it's all up in the air.

Our items moved within pods to the Phoenix area; are still unclaimed, cuz we don't have a place to put them.

Hello God, are you there? It's me, nervous breakdown...in 5...4...3...2...1. Ah, ignorant, psychotic bliss.

I'll keep you posted...that is if I last that long before I join "Reynaldo" in the loony bin. Enjoy.

BTW, this is not a drill. It's not fiction...it's really and truly happening. I'm lovin' life soooo very much right now, it's hard to keep the smile from my face.

We're FUCKED. FUCKED. FUCKED. FUCKED. FUCKED.

Also, you know what irks me the most? That we didn't get to say proper goodbyes to the dogs; and that we'll probably never see them again. I'm on the verge of tears.

Fuck you life!

A move, a job search, and now dealings with a paranoid schizophrenic...oh, oh and a gutter motel where we can keep the roaches cozy in our sock drawer. Lovin' it.