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Friday, January 3, 2014

#1 Question: Your Parents Don't Know?!?

Wow - talk about a response. I expected SOME interest to my blog when I announced it to my friends, but I was pretty surprised by the amount of people that sent me personal messages and reached out to me. What's more, I was excited by all of the questions people started asking. A good friend from high school basically interviewed me on Facebook the night I sent my mass-message, and the questions he posed made me think a lot about what I could discuss on here. Several other people have done the same, and I'm considering doing an AMA once things get moving a little more. All that to say . . . keep the questions coming, comments are appreciated, and I sure wouldn't mind if you liked/followed/shared my various social media profiles ;) ;)

Hands-down the first and most frequent question has been why I haven't told my parents and why I don't want them to know. Even my girlfriend's mother (who already knew what I've been up to) didn't know THAT detail. It's a pretty glaring oversight of mine to not explain this, and on the surface, I suppose it does make me look like a bit of a schlub. What kind of a crappy son am I, anyway? I kinda feel like I've been Sergeant Schultz to my parents . . .




My family is pretty fiercely independent, in all honesty. I remember that when my parents dropped me off at college, my father rolled down the window to say, "Call every two weeks or so unless it's an emergency." With that, he drove off.  That was that - no "I love you" or anything like that. No hugs or tears - not even from mom. That's pretty normal for my family. It's not that we don't love each other - we're just our own people. My parents are at least 1000 miles away from their respective parents, and it's not that they don't love one another.

So, is that the reason I didn't tell them? Not completely. Like I said, we DO love each other. However, I'm the youngest and the only son, so even though we're super-independent and non-emotional, I know my parents would have a fit if they knew what I'm doing. My dad would argue from a logical side that it doesn't make sense and give me numerous reasons why I should just get a place (and probably offer me money to do so, which I don't want). My mother would keep quiet, but she'd probably lose sleep worrying about my safety. I understand that - I'm their child, after all. I just know that in no way would I be able to convince them that I'm safe (even though I'm in a very low-crime area) or otherwise ease their minds about what I'm up to. Knowing my parents, I suppose the adage, "what you don't know can't hurt you," is the best approach that I could take.

Even though this post is getting a bet lengthy, I've got a related story. Last year in the fall of 2012, my parents came to visit for a weekend. We went to a few local attractions and spent time together, but they seem to be constantly inquisitive of where my new apartment was. I tried to be vague about it, but they kept pressing for details and asking to come over. I gave numerous excuses about it being too dirty or too small to host guests, but they insisted that they're just my parents, so dirty or small, they wouldn't mind. One evening, my father even tried to follow me from a distance after we met for dinner. I pulled over and asked if he needed directions back to their hotel, and he quickly made up some excuse about being turned around.

Finally, mom just decided to drill me. She asked me if I was living in some drug den, shacking up with some skanky girl, or otherwise living somewhere that I was ashamed of telling them about. I knew there was no way around it, so I had to be blunt: "Mom, in no way am I living somewhere that is immoral, illegal, or unsafe. It's just not ideal, and I don't think your or dad would approve. You don't need to worry, but I don't want to talk about it." Yeah - that was pretty rough, but when you've got your dad tailing you as you drive home, there aren't many good ways to approach the topic, I suppose. After that, they haven't brought the subject up, so I guess they've gotten over it. Why worry them, really?

So, that's that. My parent's don't know, and I don't really plan on telling them. Well, I suppose I'll tell them once I finally decide I'm done with my crazy experiment, but until then, mum's the word on that topic. Do I like keeping secrets from my parents? Of course not. However, I think I'd enjoy worrying them even less. Besides, they sacrificed so much to raise my sister and me and put us through school, and one reasons I'm doing this is to provide them with something resembling a retirement. I think they'll manage to forgive me.
5:49 PM Posted by Unknown 0

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Where I Lay My Head is Home (Even Though it's a Parking Lot)


Figuring out where to sleep was really quite the challenge. I knew that my storage unit was out. I know someone who manages some units locally, and they had to kick someone out for living in his unit (turns out, it's illegal). At first, I thought I'd find an inconspicuous area in my office to crash at with a sleeping pad, sleeping bag, and a pillow. (Criticize me all you want for "squatting," but think about it: they pay good money to keep the place heated and cooled 24/7/365, so whether I'm there or not, nothing changes. It's not like I stored things there or moved my belongings in permanently). I thought I struck gold when I landed on the "Mother's Room" since there isn't anyone in my office who currently uses it - there was a mini-fridge, a sink, and even some cabinet space. Yeah, that worked out really well until corporate security found me, and my manager engaged in several concerned conversations with me to make sure that I had a place to stay and wasn't just crashing because I was at work late. So, nix the idea of the office - FAR too many people to run into who would ask questions that I don't need.

After that mess, I decided that my car was likely the best spot out of the options that I didn't really have. I'll go into more detail about my car in another post (I had to modify a lot of things), but it wasn't easy. First, where should I park? I thought by mistake that I should park out of the way. Yeah, that was a bad assumption. From my point of view, this made sense since no one would notice me, right? Well, that's exactly what police are supposed to look for: things that look inconspicuous but are rather suspicious. No matter how hard I tried, every spot I stayed at would eventually lead to someone holding a flashlight and knocking on my window in the middle of the night.

Since fall was on the horizon, I really needed access to an outlet in order to keep my car heated. My next thought was to map out all of the hotels and the like that had easily-accessible outdoor outlets. This proved to be fairly simple, and the trick is to look around air conditioning units. After driving around one evening after work, I had a good half-dozen places that I could stay at. I figured that it would be best to rotate amongst the different locations in order to not draw suspicion.

This plan worked fairly well, and I never drew any unnecessary attention or got asked questions. However, I finally landed on a better solution: truck stops. No one asks any questions. Ever. Even though I'm the green thumb amongst a bunch of semis, no one bats an eye. The place I landed on isn't even a truck stop, actually. It turns out that a lot of Walmart, Lowe's, and other retail stores have power outlets in the rear of their parking lot for truckers to use. Since this is far less sketchy and has the added benefit of being right next to a store, it was a win.

So, there you have it - I sleep in my car in the parking lot of a Walmart. Problem solved!

7:50 PM Posted by Unknown 0

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Fully Employed and Fully Homeless

On July 30, 2012, I became homeless. It wasn't something I was forced into, though. I have a full-time job, a Master's degree, a car, a supportive family, and plenty of friends in the area, so it wasn't by misfortune that I made this decision. I became homeless by choice.

I'll pause for a moment while you ponder all of the questions you have for why I would decide such a thing. Are you done? Okay. To be honest, my reasons were half experiment and half financial. I wanted to see if it was something I could do. I'm an Eagle Scout, so I ought to be able to live without a house, right? I wondered how hard it could be and what challenges I would face. If nothing else it would make a heck of a story . . .

I also realized that in the grand scheme of things, I don't really own anything at this point in my life. The bank owns my car. Sallie Mae technically owns my degree. My clothes are pretty much worthless in the grand scheme of things. In all honesty, the only thing that I own that has a good resale value is my KitchenAid mixer. Wow. That's . . . pathetic. I have years of college education, and the only things I can claim in life are my mixer and my mountain of debt. How can I justify paying hundreds of dollars for rent when I don't even own my car? What part of that is living within my means?

We live in a society that has accepted and embraced personal debt to the point that our world economy is in doubt. In the wealthiest country in the world, the average adult has 12.7 credit accounts, our government can't even pass a budget, and I just want to be debt-free. I want my parents to be able to retire after spending their retirement putting my sister and me through school. I have ideas for great business ventures and inventions, and I want them to come to fruition. I want to make a difference to better this world beyond myself. I want the American Dream and I'm willing to fight for it - I just hope it's still attainable.

So, that's it. I'm homeless. It wasn't something I just jumped into, though. I planned and prepared a lot. I am still solving daily problems and making the lifestyle easier. It is for that reason that I write this blog. I wanted to share my experience and provide tips to others who, while they may not be so insane as to live in their car, just want to live a little smaller and dream a little bigger.

I want to end by saying that in no way am I intending to take away from those who truly are homeless and who must live on the streets, but not by choice. There is still a need for compassion and aid to such people, and I don't want to belittle that in any way. Perhaps my experiences will somehow help them, as well.

I dedicate this blog to George Alvin Waldorf, my great-grandfather, who provides the pseudonym for this blog. He was the cheapest penny-pincher who ever lived, but he lived a long, rich, and incredible life. It wasn't until after his death that we realized that he had managed to squirrel away a million dollars as a high-school physics teacher, a portion of which he left to my family for our education.

Thank you for teaching me the true meaning of wealth, Grandpa. In memory of George Alvin Waldorf, October 10, 1900 - August 17, 1995.
8:43 PM Posted by Unknown 0