My Bio - Part 33

NOTE: This section was written in 2005 and edited in 2024.

The year 2005 has just begun, and I’ve been through some very drastic changes in the last few years. We lost our big, beautiful house (not for reasons I once feared), and we’ve now lived in Klamath Falls, Oregon, for just over a year.

Although I’m not sure this is the ideal place for us, and even though we haven’t been here long, I guess you could say I somewhat prefer Oregon over Arizona—at least, I think I do. I don’t like the cold and snow of Oregon, but it certainly has its pros over Arizona. Before I explain how and why we ended up here, I must first cover the events between March 2002 and June 2004.

Most of 2002 was uneventful, though it was still filled with the usual stresses and problems. Things kept breaking, money remained tight, and our old neighbors continued to rule our lives.

Scott surprised me in early April 2003 by telling me I could start reporting once a month instead of twice.

The biggest surprise came on the 30th of that month when the phone rang at 6:30 in the morning. As soon as I saw Scott’s name on the Caller ID, my heart pounded with anxiety. My first thought was that the freeloading assholes had done something else to me. After everything they’d already put me through, I was constantly fearful and paranoid, wondering what false accusations they might concoct to keep me trapped in their web of hatred. I feared they would try something just as my probation was due to end to keep it going—but that wasn’t for another six months.

Or so I thought.

“Hello?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady when I picked up the phone.

“Hey, it’s Scott. Did you hear the news?”

“No. What news? What’s wrong?”

That’s when he told me nothing was wrong, and that he was shocked to receive a fax that morning from the judge (a different one than the one who had screwed me), saying I was now off probation. The state had opposed it, of course, but that was it. I was free! Free!!!

I jumped for joy all day long, running up and down the house, laughing and grinning like a madwoman. It was so unexpected. I had no reason to believe this would happen. No one had given me any breaks before, so I’d long since given up hope. But sometimes life really is full of surprises.

Although I immensely enjoyed my newfound freedom—after seven long years of being chained to these sick people—I was also a bit apprehensive. I felt like a sitting duck. Would the news of my early release, something they would surely be furious about, provoke any vengeful behavior? Fortunately, nothing happened during the rest of our time in Arizona, which was a little over a year after Scott’s call. So, if they were simply biding their time to look less obvious, I was spared from whatever they might have done.

I vowed never to let this long, frustrating ordeal stop me from speaking my mind in the future, and I did—when the next person burned me.

That next person was Teddy Bear, though she didn’t hurt me nearly as much as the freeloaders had.

At the very end of 2001, Mary wrote to tell me that Teddy Bear had been transferred to Madison because of too many rumors about her flirting with inmates. Chavez was the one who told Mary, and that’s when I first started to doubt Teddy Bear’s promises of us getting together. First off, if you really liked and missed someone, wouldn’t you bend the rules a little, even if it meant not quite waiting a year? After all, it’s not like anyone would have seen us together way out in the boonies.

I also wondered what she thought when she saw my year-after-release letter sent to Estrella, assuming she didn’t know that I knew about the transfer. Did she figure it would be forwarded to her, or did she just not care? Sure enough, she never responded to my letter, even though I sent it directly to Madison in May 2002, letting her know Mary had told me about her transfer.

I was devastated when she blew me off without so much as a simple explanation. I cried for four months straight and was even tempted to run back to Helen, but I knew Helen couldn’t change anything, and eventually, I’d get over her—and I did. In the end, I was glad Teddy Bear ignored my letter, knowing her presence might have put Tom in an awkward position, even though we were evolving into just good friends like most long-term couples.

Still, I was determined to give her a piece of my mind without letting past experiences stop me. So, just a few months after getting off probation, I sent her a letter. I wasn’t trying to get her fired or seek revenge. I just wanted her to know she played with my emotions, and that I wasn’t some object without feelings.

For reasons unknown to me, my psychic abilities intensified during our time in Maricopa. I was able to “influence” more than half the scratch tickets we bought, though they usually only won a few bucks each.

Tom was searching for an old pickup truck to have a backup vehicle and something to haul large items. He was looking for one made in the 80s, but in my visions, I saw a 70s truck in either white or gold. Sure enough, for $500, he found two dumpy Datsuns. One was a green ‘77, the other a white ‘79. He stripped the green one and used its parts to get the white one running, which took several months.

The first time our well went out was in late 2001. I predicted it would happen again two years later, and unfortunately, it did—just two weeks shy of the date.

Now, here’s how we ended up here. For years, I said that once we freed ourselves from the welfare bum’s grip, we’d plunge into a whole new long-term crisis—and we did. One that would alter our lives in a very big way.

In June 2003, Bank of America fired Tom for speaking out against bringing religion into the workplace. We were both frustrated, and still are, with how so many people mix religion, along with beliefs we consider hogwash, into almost everything and try to force it on others. Hey, not everyone is religious, but some people just don’t seem to understand that. Arizona, being a predominantly non-white Christian state, didn’t support his refusal to conform, so he was let go.

I found it unnerving, even scary, to know that someone I’d never met could turn our lives upside down so easily, leaving us with no way to fight back. People often fail to realize the long-term effects of vengeful behavior on others. As I had asked myself many times when the sick assholes from Phoenix had control over our lives: How could someone have such power and leave us so helpless?

My faith in God was shattered. I felt like some force had it in for us, pitting one person after another against us—people we were powerless to fight.

Tom started collecting unemployment while searching for a job that could cover our expenses. After two months with no luck, he had to settle for a minimum-wage job at a Nissan proving grounds in August. The only benefit was that it was close to home. Although they kept promising him benefits and a raise, he was forced to quit by late November and return to unemployment. It seemed pointless to work for the same amount he could collect by not working, and besides, we needed time to prep the house for sale once it became clear we were going to lose it.

As sad as I was to leave our spacious home, beautifully furnished and decorated, I was also relieved. We both were. Tom never liked the house, calling it a waste of space and not cozy. Plus, we had gone through so much trouble with it—leaky pipes, a broken hot water tank, well issues, loose dogs, and trash blowing onto our land. People in the area didn’t secure their trash well, and without proper trash services, the high winds scattered debris everywhere. The neighborhood was also building up fast. Three new houses appeared in front of our neighbors during our final months, and there were now three rental properties behind us with two more on the way. It was getting noisier, too.

Sometimes I wondered if something evil inhabited the land, or maybe even the house itself. Foul odors would appear for hours without explanation. I also slept worse there than I did in our Phoenix home. Between sonic booms, loud engines, and random knocking from either people or woodpeckers, I was lucky to get more than a few nights a week of undisturbed sleep.

We wanted to find a more secluded place with greater privacy. We realized we had bitten off more than we could chew with the Maricopa property and thought it would be best not to go for something as extravagant next time. We figured a wooded area would provide the privacy we wanted, which wasn’t possible in the flat open desert without money to plant trees and hedges.

We decided Oregon would be our best option with its mountainous, forested terrain. We won a 2.3-acre parcel of land on eBay from a man named Michael in Portland. The land was located in the Klamath Falls Forest Estate near the California border. Neither of us had ever been to Oregon, though Tom thought he might have visited relatives there as a child. I wasn’t thrilled about returning to a place with a cold, snowy climate but figured it might be okay now that I didn’t have to walk or ride a bike to school like I did as a kid—or run errands like I had to as an adult in Springfield.

I wondered if there was something wrong with Oregon since the population was relatively low. I assumed it was just because the weather was so cold and snowy in most parts, though Portland didn’t get as cold as Klamath Falls. It rained more there instead.

After Tom left the proving grounds, we went on a selling spree, selling old items on eBay and at local swap meets. He sold old computer equipment, and I sold collectible dolls I no longer wanted. The first time we sold stuff at a swap meet, we did well. The second time, not as much, but by then, it was so hot no one wanted to stay outside for long.

On December 28, 2004, I grew so fed up with the congestion my inhalers were causing that I placed one of my spells on myself—something I’d somehow mastered—and quit them altogether. After moving to Oregon, I lost most of the lung tightness I had and found myself breathing better than ever.

In February 2004, we got Blondie, the rat we still have. I thought no rat could compare to Little Buddy, but Blondie surpassed him by far! He’s the most loving, smart, and dog-like rat we’ve ever had. Not many rats will climb up your leg to see you after exploring for a while. He even jumps up on the bed by climbing the comforter.

In late April, we contacted a realtor who found us an investor to buy our house. Since we didn’t have time to sell it properly, we were forced to settle for a measly five grand. Huey, the buyer, understood our frustrations with the bank and how they were jerking us around and withholding information. We knew we couldn’t trust anything the bank said anyway, given how they falsified documents—something Tom had witnessed several times while working there.

Huey wanted to divide the 10-acre parcel into five 2-acre lots. We sold the place to him on April 27 and were given until June 12 to leave, which happened to be Huey’s birthday. He said to contact him if we needed more time.

We also won a 20-foot 1975 Midas RV for $1,500 on eBay, which we called Gert because it was so old and ugly. The plan was to live in that, along with any tents or small sheds we might build, until we could construct a dome house—a project we estimated would take two to three years. We also planned to install solar panels since our land was 1,500 feet from the nearest power lines. But as I learned over and over, life rarely goes according to plan. It seemed like every time we made a plan, we ended up doing something entirely different. More and more, I felt like we were just leaves blowing in the wind, destined to end up wherever fate took us.

During the next month and a half, we sold off most of our furniture. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get nearly what it was worth, but it was better than nothing. A Mexican family that owned a furniture store bought most of it, including our 1991 Ford Taurus.

The last few days in Arizona were hot, hectic, and filled with emotion. At one point, I stood in the middle of my empty office and cried, thinking of all the stories I’d written in that room, the journal entries, and the music I’d listened to. Then I remembered all the stress, the unhappy journal entries, and that made up for it—at least some of it anyway. Tom was excited to leave, and so was I, though I knew I would miss the house.

The move from Arizona to Oregon turned out to be harder than the move from Phoenix, even though we had far less stuff. This time, we had to cram everything into the RV, plus the truck towing it.