For me, 2010 had some pretty standard ups and a lot of surprising downs. Downs are downs and no one likes them, but at the very least mine were interesting. I rang in 2010 by being sick in bed for an astoundingly long period of twelve days. I am fairly certain that at some point I requested to be put down like an elderly house pet. The doctor opted not to comply, rambling along with some long speech about euthanasia that I could barely understand through my codeine-addled fog. I went through an awful living situation that made me feel uncomfortable to even be in my own home, and learned the value of both being a positive person and removing myself from negativity. That situation ended in my eventually becoming estranged from someone I used to love, without ever knowing what really even happened, or why it happened. In April, I broke my fifth metatarsal by stepping out of bed while my foot was asleep. I put all my weight on my right food when my toes were curled under my foot and my bone snapped in my half on top of itself. Surprise!
Of all of the downs, the most surprising by far has been homelessness. I certainly mean no offense to anyone who is homeless, but I really just didn’t seem like the type. Wrong again. The week after the fall semester ended, I moved from the dorm into a small house with two good friends. I was excited, since I’d lived on campus all four years and was just ready to have my own room, a real kitchen, and a driveway. I spent a lot of time making my room the perfect room for me. It was bird themed, bright, quiet, and smelled like vanilla. I got Netflix instant streaming on my television and decided never to leave my little haven again.
Unfortunately, I did have to leave it for a little while in order to go home for Christmas. I had a nice Christmas with my family but headed back to Nashville as soon as possible, on December thirtieth. When I was about an hour outside of Nashville, I got a call from one of my roommates, who was also coming back into town that day.
She was hysterical.
“Our roof caved in,” she sobbed. “All of our things are ruined.”
In what I like to think (read: hope (read: wish)) is a manner characteristic of my personality, I tried to stay calm and called our other roommate to inform her. We finally got in touch with our landlord (lesson: have your landlord‘s cell phone number. you may need it.) and his wife came over to help my roommate. By the time I arrived, no one was there. I stepped inside the door and felt my stomach sink, slowly. The roof wasn’t actually caved in, but a pipe had burst and almost all of the ceilings had become saturated and fallen down, leaving piles of soaked wood and insulation filled with fiberglass (lesson: there is fiberglass in insulation and it hurts if you touch it and later rub your face) everywhere in our house. It was heartbreaking. So much of the ceiling in my room had fallen that the door couldn’t even be opened. (lesson: get renter’s insurance).
We were legitimately homeless. I began my tour of friends’ couches. (dear Emily Hogan and Tim Rosko, I love you. you are wonderful, wonderful lifesavers and I am forever indebted to you.) Homelessness didn’t sink in until the next day. I met the landlord and some house gutters at the house that morning, went to the gym to shower (I know.), and then went to a job interview. After that, it hit me: I had nowhere to go. I had no place to be. Most of my friends were not in town yet, and it was New Year’s Eve so coffee shops in which I am often found lurking were closed. It’s a bad, desperate sort of feeling to have no place to go. Even for someone who technically has a home, albeit in another city, that she could go to if absolutely necessary. For the first time in my life, I wanted to just leave Nashville and not come back.
The next morning, I picked up my roommate Lauren from the airport and we set about rectifying our situation. This to say, we went to waffle house with Tim (the aforementioned lifesaver). After that, I took her to see the house, and joined right in as she stared at the place we’d lived with a look of shock that had glazed over and cooled off (I played with this sentence a lot and just couldn’t think of a way to phrase it that didn’t instantly conjure the image of a donut. my apologies). While moving some of my nonessential things into the basement and putting others in my car, I began to adapt. I began to organize. I began to embrace homelessness.
After a somehow disturbingly short period of time, I realized that I’d taken to homelessness like a bird to flight, a fish to water, myself to Waffle House. It was by no means preferable, but I was doing it right.
I would like to credit two different mottos for these skills. The first is the motto on my high school’s crest: inveniemus viam aut faciemus. (I know, we have a crest/motto, we’re pretentious. not new.) It’s Latin for “we will find a way or make one.” I am unsure if this is ridiculous or not, but I love that motto. I think of it all the time. It may or may not actually help, but I love it either way. The second motto is that of a man named Hank Flick, who I had the opportunity to hear speak several times in my sophomore year of high school during a leadership program. His perscription for all situations was the same: adapt, improvise, and overcome. Again, possibly cheesy, but it’s altogether possible that our lives are not quite cheesy enough these days. Do with this what you will.
I have assembled a list of tips to help the modern girl adapt to homelessness, should it befall her as it did me. As someone who made the transition quite easily, I feel that it is my duty to share my knowledge.
#1 - It won’t do to dwell on the fact that you’re now homeless. Accept it, and get busy embracing it. Inveniemus viam aut faciemus. Adapt, improvise, overcome.
#2 - Make a schedule.
-Sit down a few days in advance and make a shower schedule. Map out possible dates, locations, and available products. Do not forget the gym as a resource.
-On a related note, use the bathroom whenever possible. Never hold it! You now have no idea when your next chance might be. Gas stations are your friend.
-Plan ahead as to where you’re going to sleep! Avoid staying with one person for too long, as your friends probably love you but also probably don’t want you installed permanently on their couch. This is a great time to make new friends.
-Parking: If you’re forced to sleep in your car, find a suitable location. This may be especially necessary for napping, as the people on whose couches you’re crashing probably have real lives that they have to live during the day. Choose a low traffic area in which to nap. Avoid businesses, parking lots with high turnover rates, and places frequented by those homeless people.
#3 - Stay Organized
-It’s time to see your car for what it really is: your brand spanking new mobile home. Go ahead, run her through the car wash.
-You are now living out of your car, and will need to stay hyper-organized in order to maintain your high standard of living. Separate sections of your car with rubbermaids or hanging racks and assign each section a different purpose. Examples include a closet section, a shoe section, a dirty clothes section, storage, hanging clothes, a pharmacy (you’re going to need more asprin), and perhaps a section for arts and crafts. I certainly found knitting to be relaxing during this trying time.
-Find a place for your nonessentials. I used the only non flooded area of my ex home, the basement. You may have to be creative, as being homeless really limits your storage options. Still got that key to your ex’s house? Sneak in when you know he’s at work and put stuff in his attic. He’ll never figure it out, and you will have a more functional mobile home. If he catches you trying to retrieve it later, accuse him of trying to steal your things and flounce out in a huff.
-Make careful choices about your bedding. You’re going to want to keep an inflatable air mattress with you at all times, but don’t neglect the rest of your bedding. A duvet cover and a couple of euro shams really brighten up the middle of a living room floor and should be considered a must. You didn’t sleep with a single blanket before, and now is not the time to start.
-Portable library: This is not the time to let your education slide. Keep a selection of ten or so important books in your car and pull them out when you have some extra time (you’re going to have some extra time). It’s important that you remember to be the type of homeless person that reads Poe in coffee shops, not the kind that drinks something from a brown paper bag at bus stops.
#4 - Look Cute - This is very important, as your looks are now all you have.
-I cannot emphasize this enough. People will not know that you are homeless by looking at you unless you let them.
-Get a good nights sleep! If someone’s couch makes this an impossibility, embrace the fact that under eye concealer is your new best friend.
-Make your outfits out of a small number of versatile items. You want to be able to mix and match, as well as to be able to change quickly in possibly conspicuous locations.
-Find ways to make greasy hair work. Invest in some dry shampoo or baby powder. If your hair is darker, find yourself a cute cap and try to pull off the girl next door look. In my personal experience, this strategy probably won’t work.
-Keep your nails polished- that way you can’t see the dirt under your nails after you don’t shower for days at a time. Dark colors are more opaque and therefore preferable.
-Just because you’re homeless doesn’t mean that wrinkled clothes are suddenly acceptable. Don’t let it happen.
-Perfume masks a lot of weird smells.
#5 - Stay comfortable
-You’re going to want to find some good sleeping pills, or (NOT and) alcohol.
-Deodorant is a must, especially if you have a homeless companion (may I suggest Lauren Brumley? really. if you have to be homeless with someone, you want to be homeless with her. bonus: she wears deodorant. didn’t have to remind her once).
-Look for your more comfortably cute items, but if these two adjectives are mutually exclusive in your portable closet (car), err on the side of cute. This is not the time to get sloppy.
-Staying connected is key. Just because you don’t have a home doesn’t mean that you’re not responsible for keeping your immense network of close friends updated via facebook, twitter, flickr, tumblr, linkedin, etc.
So there you have it. Follow these simple rules and homeless will be a detail, not a status. You can do it!
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I’d like to end on two important points. Firstly, this post is intended to make light of my recent unfortunate situation, not to downplay how awful it is for people who are really, truly homeless. My situation was stressful and difficult but ultimately ended well (I have a new house!) I plan to buy several issues of The Contributor this week in order to pay for my sins. It wouldn’t hurt you to do the same. Secondly, possessions are not important. People are important in your life. Nothing teaches you this like homelessness, even if it is a moderately comfortable and temporary sort of homelessness. Driving your car around with all your possessions in it and no place to go is not so bleak at all with a close friend in the passenger seat with whom you can laugh about the whole thing. Sleeping on someone’s couch is not sad at all when you’ve stayed up half the night talking (and possibly knitting) with them. Life is about who you love and who loves you, and nothing else really matters. Remember that.
Even when you’re not homeless, it might just save you anyway.
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