A Breakfast of Champions

I had been cooped up in my house the past few days and awoke this morning with an urge to be outside. I decided to go for a drive. I got in my car, opened my sun roof and windows, and pulled out of my driveway with my destination remaining unknown. I’d fallen victim to the crisp weather, music, and sunshine, causing me to get lost in the enjoyment of my drive.   I soon found myself on the outskirts of downtown, near Richmond and 59. I started to get a little upset with myself due to my lack of awareness, that is however until I noticed I was approaching a drive thru Shipley’s Donuts.   I was in high spirits once again. Three glazed donuts topped with pink icing and sprinkles has always been a positive mood-changer for me. I sat at the light devouring my first donut, and suddenly noticed a girl, around my age, standing right outside my window.  She was holding a Styrofoam cup in my face, indirectly asking for money.   She didn’t say a word, only gave me a smile which made her appear helpless.  Unable to speak, as my mouth was full of donut, I gave her a head-nod and began searching in my purse for a dollar. She smiled and said "thank you" in an angelic sounding voice that almost seemed too sweet and innocent. She pranced back to the corner as another car approached the light. An older man was in the driver’s seat.  He was awkwardly staring forward pretending not to notice the helpless girl, and was probably praying for the light to quickly change.  She went up to his window, just as she had done to me, and held the cup in his face. The man put his hands up and shook his head no. The sweet, almost little girl demeanor she had moments before morphed into an angry, pissed off woman.  Without hesitation she put the cup down, looked the man dead in the eyes, and forcefully held her middle finger in the middle of his window for about 5 seconds.  She then rolled her eyes and hastily turned around, returning to her spot on the curb. I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed.  I was laughing so hard I almost choked on my donut.  As I was consumed with laughter, I was unable to see that she was watching me, and didn’t find the situation quite as humorous as I did.  She was mad, and I apparently made things a little worse.  She stood up, looked right at me and yelled "I would have laughed at you shoving that damn donut in your mouth but I wanted your dollar!”  I was quickly put in my place. I laughed a little more, wiped the icing off my face, and pulled over in a nearby parking lot. I was fascinated by the manipulative games in which she played on those driving by and wanted to talk to her. 

I got out of my car and could immediately feel her cold stare.   She stood with one hand on her hip, sizing me up and down as I slowly crept towards her.  I said “Hi” and she loudly shouted back, "What the hell do you want?” I froze. This was not turning out the way I had planned.  Memories of previous warnings from friends and family to be careful while talking to homeless people came to mind and suddenly made perfect sense.  I felt I had no control of the situation and that made me nervous.  I didn’t want her to know she had startled me, so I tried my hardest to casually walk up to her and introduce myself.  With a friendly smile on my face I told her my name and a little about my blog.  No response.  I didn’t know what to do or say.   Unfortunately for me, whenever I’m at a loss for words, I start talking about anything and everything.  I’m still not sure what exactly I said, but it was along the lines of “I know you don’t know me and probably don’t like me very much after what just happened and probably think I’m crazy for coming to talk to you but I thought what you did to the man in the car was super funny and I think you are funny and if I were in your situation I would have done the exact same thing.”  I then told her I thought she was “cool”; a comment in which I will forever be mortified came out of my mouth.  I was a fast-talking, nervous, rambling wreck and she knew it.  My painful monologue must have evoked some sort of emotion within her because after a few more seconds of chilling stares she finally smiled and gave me the go ahead to sit next to her and talk. 

We started our conversation, and I was amazed with how open she was.  Her only request was that I don’t share her name.  She lives a life addicted to heroin and expressed her need to collect money each day in order to feed her habit. Her daily routine is as follows:  she wakes up, collects money, and gets her fix, only to wake up and do it all over again.  Addiction has been her way of life for over ten years, and has caused her to lose everyone she has ever cared about.  She said it’s impossible to care about someone or maintain any type of relationship when the sole focus of her mind is on a drug.   She believes that she will never be able to conquer her addiction.  It was sad to see such a savvy, street-smart, intelligent individual be completely content and accepting of her addiction and place in life.  Addict or not she’s a genuine, honest, real person; and it is in those qualities where her true self resides.  Hours quickly passed and it was time for me to leave.  I thanked her for her kindness and willingness to converse with a complete stranger.  She didn’t have to, especially after all that happened, but she did and I appreciated it.

I got in my car and noticed my last donut sitting on the passenger’s seat.  As I sat at the light I rolled down the window and handed her the remains of my cold, yet still delicious breakfast, along with a napkin just in case she were to enjoy it the way I had.  She took the donut from my hand while laughing, shook her head, and walked away.  Had I met her a few weeks ago, I probably would have allowed her heroin addiction stand in the way of actually getting to know her.  I am able to see changes within myself that might not have occurred if it wasn’t for the homeless, so to them I remain forever grateful. 

http://sabrinalloyd.blogspot.com/2011/09/my-life-changing-experiment.html

Its A Small World After All

I am not one to allow obstacles or hardships stand in the way of accomplishing my goals, but I must confess that my encounter with Mike last week caused me to feel uneasy about my next pursuit. My passion was still intact however alongside that passion sat newly formed feelings of doubt and uncertainty. I was determined not to allow these thoughts to take control as I hesitantly walked down the street in search of someone new. As I stood on the corner waiting my turn to cross the street I saw in the distance three familiar faces. These people were a family, and it was my encounters with this particular family over the past few years that inspired me to create this blog. Although they had no idea who I was, they had affected my life in great ways. All negative feelings erased from my mind as I stood on the corner staring in their direction. I stood still for a few minutes completely mystified by the impact this family has made on my life, and thought it funny that in their eyes I was nothing but a stranger. The universe works in mysterious ways.

My first encounter with them occurred several years back. It was early morning and I was on my way to school. I was stuck in traffic and noticed a middle-aged couple asking each passing car for assistance. At first I didn’t give them much thought, as being a witness to homeless people had quickly become an insignificant and everyday occurrence. Then, I noticed something. Behind the couple sat a little girl in a yellow wheel chair who appeared to have some sort of mental illness. I had never seen a family, especially one like this, living on the streets before. Seeing this family for the first time consumed my mind with confusion and forced me to see a reality I had never before imagined. I decided to call my dad. I’ve always had a special connection with my dad. Anytime something is on my mind, I need guidance, or just feel like talking, he is the first person I call. Our wide spectrum of conversation ranges anywhere from philosophical talk of spirituality all the way to jokes in which my mother refers to as “bathroom humor,” but we find hilarious. My dad and I talked as I slowly drove through traffic. It was hard for me to understand how two parents caring for a child with a disability were able to survive with no real home. This family needed help. It was the first time I was able to see the effects of recession with my own eyes. I hung up the phone as I got to school and though still disheartened, put this family out of my mind. Thinking about them would only upset me so I stopped and continued on with my day. They were nothing but a distant memory, that is, until our paths would cross once again.

Six month later and miles down the road I had my second encounter. I was leaving my friends and had stopped to get gas. I walked inside to pay and the first thing I saw was the little girl. She had a huge smile on her face and was giggling while looking at someone directly behind me. Knowing her living situation I wondered what exactly it was that made her so happy, so I curiously turned around to see who or what it was that gave her such joy. Her dad was behind me and was searching through a cooler filled with ice cream. He finally picked one and proudly held it in his hands while waving it in the air as he approached his daughter. At that point in time, nothing seemed to matter to them except for a chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwich. I watched as he grabbed coins out of his pocked to pay for the treat, and tried not to stare as they sat together outside and he helped her eat their newly purchased treasure. I had never felt such happiness from ice cream before and became a little envious of their appreciation for such an insignificant thing. The immense everyday struggle this man goes through to care for his daughter and ensure that she see beauty our world, despite their current situation, boggled my mind. It also represents the point in my life in which something deep inside me changed, enabling me to view the world differently than I had before. I drove out of the gas station filled with empowerment and hope, with the man and his daughter being the culprit.

Flash forward to present day and there I was, standing on the corner awkwardly staring ahead at the family. I was in a reflective state as memories and realizations were rapidly flying throughout my head. I started to walk in their direction in attempts to make a connection only to find myself stopped after a few short steps. After much consideration, I concluded that meeting this family wasn’t the right thing to do at this point in time. This family has come to represent a lot in my life and has stimulated my mind to be more open to new thoughts and ideas. I realized I was the one who had lessons to learn from them, not the opposite. I stood smiling in their direction for a few more minutes, and then turned around to go home. I felt true happiness but most importantly blessed for the simple fact that this family had yet again, changed my life.  

Reality 1, Sabrina 0

I've come to the realization that my newly formed assumptions about "the homeless" are wrong. I have been fortunate to make connections with some amazing and intelligent individuals over the past few weeks, and because of my luck, I began to   assume each homeless person would act that way. I used these unique experiences to form an opinion about homeless people as a whole. I was subconsciously grouping these people together and making judgments. I now realize each person is different, no matter what "group" society says one belongs.  A person should be defined by the actions they take, not based on wealth, religion, race, or any other stereotype.   

I met Mike outside the sprint store on the corner of Westheimer and Shepherd. I had arrived 15 minutes prior to the store opening so I decided to sit outside on the curb and enjoy Houston’s recent change in weather. I sat with my eyes closed as the sun beamed down my back and cool breeze blew through my hair. My eyes quickly opened as the deep and raspy voice of Mike asked me for change.  He appeared to be in his late 50's and wore a navy blue hat in which matched the torn bandana that wrapped his left ankle. He limped closer to me, appearing to be in great pain.  I had to make a decision; spend the morning with him and go another day with a broken cell phone, or continue with my already planned day and risk the chance of meeting someone new. He looked like he had gone through a lot in his life and I wanted to know more, so decided my cell phone could wait. I told him about my blog and asked if he would be interested in getting a cup of coffee across the street so we could talk for a while. He agreed, and we walked across the street to Starbucks. As we walked, I noticed that his previous and seemingly excruciating “limp” had become almost nonexistent. Not wanting to believe he made up the injury, I quickly dismissed the thought from my head.

 As we sipped our coffee he told me a little about himself, or maybe I should say the person he wanted me to believe he was. He informed me of his 15-year unemployment streak.  In my eyes Mike seemed perfectly capable of maintaining a job, but he insisted his “bad ankle” keeps him from working. With almost everything he said, he emphasized his misfortunes and need for money. He seemed very negative and detached. The longer we spoke, the more I was able to see what his true motivation of having coffee with me actually was. He didn’t want to know me, and certainly didn’t want me to get to know him. He wanted my money and was prepared to say anything to get it. Once he realized I had no money to give and could not benefit him in any materialistic way, he angrily got up and walked away, limp-free.

Alone at the table with only my thoughts, I noticed how upset I was.  I felt insulted.  Until this point I’ve never had a negative experience talking to a homeless person and ignorantly thought each person would be the same.  It probably sounds horrible, but I felt like I was doing these people a favor and each person should be grateful for my reaching out.  I had to question my motivation at that point.  Was I only writing this blog to satisfy my own ego and feel good about myself? 

After hours of thinking and reading my previous blog posts over and over, I came to several conclusions.  I thoroughly enjoy writing this blog.  Meeting new people, figuring out a way to relate to them, and making a connection satisfies something deep inside me and makes me feel alive.  I realized my personal agenda is not fueled by self-gratification, but by curiosity, knowledge, and truth.  I am not perfect though, and began to notice how judgmental I’ve been acting which is wrong no matter my intentions.  I was unknowingly separating myself from the homeless, and that subconscious separation goes against everything I believe in.  It’s funny how I often find myself so sure of something only to be slapped in the face with reality and have that "certainty" quickly vanish.  My experience with Mike shouldn’t affect my feelings towards any other person, just like all my other encounters shouldn’t make me think all homeless people are simply misunderstood. That unpleasant hour I spent with Mike has strengthened my belief in the importance of looking at the individual and not the stereotype. Learning to view people in such a way is not easy.  I’m grateful to have found Mike because without him I may have never learned this valuable lesson. 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Wks2hg6PrM