What have I really become?

It’s crazy when you think about it too much.

I am sitting in midtown Sacramento hipster heaven, sipping on what deserves to be called the most delectable espresso known to man at T Coffee Roasters, a place known for its pretentious vibes of better than. The pretentiousness probably adds to the flavor, who knows?

But even in these stark conditions of streamlined tables and open transparent coffee roasting happening in the other room, I was able to watch a woman breast feed her baby just moments ago and there is a man reading a book to my right and another fellow reading a newspaper to my left; so, print media is not dead in hipster culture. Even if there feels like there is no substance behind the facade, the acts themselves are still powerful.

And are we past the point of caring whether or not you or him or they or her are legit, as in born this way, never having wavered from being true to themselves? Is that what makes one authentic? Are we needing to judge so harshly in order to validate our own trashiness? And is my trash what makes me real?

I am somehow made more powerful simply because of my humble space, sleeping on the floor at my parent’s house, making bad decisions, keeping my life in my car in order to be able to constantly stay on the go. To be a part of the gypsy revolution. Or simply because my mental health prevents me from being able to feel safe in my body. Or because the baby boomers had access to a job that could support buying a house and raising a family while my generation is screwed into working for less then what is feasible to afford with the housing costs.

So, rubber tramps by choice or necessity, we still must own this space by simply being in it and acknowledging that it is what is happening. Getting lost in the identity crises of 2019, where people of all ages, colors, sizes, sexual and gender identities, and abilities are putting up walls to protect themselves from difference. The xenophobic generation where we can all hide on the internet: the poor people’s internet where we all get looped back into ask.com and that same wiki article that just proves the same ignorance that is fed to all the masses.

A world where the real story is being told to those in uniform or the ones wearing the right clothing, where we have to play the game in order to learn the true story from official sources. As pop music tells us to embrace who we are; as we pay stars to be different , to keep encouraging us to be different, while society keeps demanding that we stay the same.

I am not radical enough to dumpster dive, so I am a sucker that pays double by going into the store for groceries. I continue to engage in this capitalist system that is there to kill me, to try to enslave me to an energy that doesn’t exist in the natural world, an energy that doesn’t support individuality or authenticity-that wants to keep us afraid.

All of my struggle with being houseless makes it hard for me to think straight. (Think gay instead, duh!🤣) It keeps me in reptilian brain where I can either fight or fly away to some other situation where my options continue to be the same, stuck in ego, codependence and narcissism.

In a world based in bull shit, based on a desire to be stuck in the third dimension battling ego battles with other narcissists attempting to dominate and manipulate each other in the battle for 3D domination. All of us attempting to prove that we are somehow more special then anybody else when the truth is: none of us are special.

We are all battling with the illusions of security and hope, buying into the dream because it’s all we can see around us, choosing to ignore all of the feelings raging inside of us.

Love,

Hobo Diva (hodee)