Who knew that the most repeated piece of advice from my father would turn out to be so true. For some reason, I didn't take that particular piece of advice very seriously. 

He would regularly remind me of this fact for a significant percentage of the portion of complaints that I voiced to him, which wasn't many; who would want to try to have an active  relationship with the man that when gently but assertively offered the first piece of behavioral feedback from a 12 years old of "Dad, I think you're being insensitive", responded with a gravelly and solidly spoken "Fuck You, I'm being insensitive."? Not me, at least. I'd gotten that "fuck you" message far too many times and in far too many ways for me to want to receive more of it. I went back to the minimal speaking policy after that, naturally.

Anyway, I thought that the lack of constructive help was because he didn't care enough to explain the world. Well, that was mostly true, but at least what he offered me was factual.
I was such a poor fool to have not believed him. Instead, I had chosen to continue living and hoping that life could be something different. I continued Suffering. Striving. Dreaming. Hoping. Trying.
Alone.

After much trying and striving and dreaming and setbacks, I finally achieved the basics of the state of being that I'd dreamed of when I was about 4 years old: an environment in which I felt like I could finally relax a bit and make some changes to my then-miserable mind. I had eventually achieved a passive income from modest real estate holdings, so that I can sit around my house and unwind while the checks sometimes come in. Maybe I could achieve that inner peace that's necessary for being a person to make changes to their lifestyle. To have those joyful relationships that I never had as a kid.

Desperation also works as a motivating factor for said change, but somehow I was pretty 'burned out' on using desperation as a motivating factor... ' still am, too.

Now, I have a TV mounted on the ceiling, above my bed, with wireless keyboard and mouse, so that I can unwind. Most people think gross thoughts when I mention this. And while true, that was certainly not the primary purpose. The primary purpose was so that my computer addiction could be enjoyed from the most relaxing position possible. Reading stories on Scribblehub and nowadays playing an MMO game. Oh, did I mention the studio monitor speakers that are mounted on that ceiling, aimed toward my pillow position? Yeah, that too. Music that sounds good. Oh and remote controlled lights that backlight the ceiling TV so that my eyes don't burn out.

...The kitchen is adjacent to the bedroom too. God forbid I'd have to walk two rooms' distance in order to access my Wal-Mart ice cream.

A few years ago, I used to get the discount Haagen-Dazs from Grocery Outlet, but since I was too committed to relaxation instead of enduring the stress of testing my vehicle's emissions under California's San Joaquin Valley emissions regulations, I no longer have a street legal vehicle capable of carrying a full load of groceries. I haven't had such a vehicle for a few years. Instead I elect to get my groceries delivered...and WalMart has a built-in delivery system on their website that makes ordering groceries easy. And Haagen-Dazs from anywhere other than Grocery Outlet is too expensive.

I never cancelled the auto-pay on my vehicle insurance...

So after years of relaxing, and getting somewhat frustrated by my unaccomplished dreams, and getting fat and getting out of shape, I now find myself flirting with the idea of doing something productive. Well, this newfound energy to write is partly inspired by the fact that my property management company abandoned my units due to them not wanting to deal with the sleazy dishonest renters that they selected. They really didn't do a good job of selecting tenants who would actually pay their under-market rents, and I've gotta sign the units over to someone who will hopefully choose tenants who actually pay and follow the rules. No more 8 people to a studio apartment and also not paying rent, boys. Damn, I feel sorry for the neighbors.

But alas, I still haven't signed the paperwork to hand the units over to a more established management company that is willing to service the 'ghetto' which last I checked had a median household income of about 32K/year. In one of the most expensive and regulated states, that turns such an income into a social environment that we call "the ghetto". Well, genetics are certainly a factor as well... People who disagree don't believe in the branch of physics called 'neuroscience'.

It's been a week and a half since the property management company arrived at my house to deliver the message about their abandoning their role for my units. They didn't email for some reason. They apparently tried my phone, but I let my phone expire nearly a year ago. You see, with the taxpayer-funded (and overcharged) phone plans, you're supposed to use the phone at least once a month. I definitely didn't do that. They cancelled the connection, naturally.

Am I at 'rock bottom'? 
I have one gaming friend that I message once a week. No phone. No truck or car. No bicycle trailer that can carry groceries or appliances. Nothing covering my 15 degree sloped roof's underlayment for the last 4 years. Overweight. Out of shape. Untreated spinal nerve pinching that keeps me from getting a good night's rest and leaves me in a constant mild state of nausea...
Now without income while also living in a financial environment in which the global fiat banking cartels are doing their planned inflationary disaster in an attempt to make the world's population accept a Central Bank Digital Currency that they want to enslave us with. By extension, the purchasing power of my savings is diminishing quickly. Inflation is theft by design, by the way. Our founders predicted what would happen if bankers got control of the currency, and it's happened.

This kind of feels like a precipice for change. I think this might be the time that I might start getting my shit together. Maybe. If so, can I do my work without being miserable or desperate...eventually?

Perhaps I shouldn't worry so much about such a thing?
After all, if I somehow fail at this, at least I have hollow point ammunition and Oregon state allows a gentle way to commit suicide. "It's okay when we do it". heheh. "Rules for thee and not for me!". I could afford an Uber to cross state boundaries to Oregon...if I had a phone, which they require.
I'm really quite squeamish about the idea of having pain when shooting myself in the head. Pretty lame, huh? Hmm. That fentanyl stuff might do the trick? I don't know.

Well, I'm certainly not ready for that at this point.

There's a lot of opportunity that I theoretically have. And dreams that I still have which involve saving people from some of the pain that I went through with property ownership. Last time I went down this dreamer road, it didn't work very well, though.

But what choice do I have?

So I have to take advantage of the opportunities that are in front of me.

I have a lot of space, interior and exterior. Two nearly empty spare bedrooms. I have a bicycle trainer that I can hook up to a computer and cycle around simulated environments while getting exercise with a program called Zwift. I have materials to build other exercise equipment which I can use to hopefully relieve some of this gnawing pain.

My outdoor space is full of building materials and junk...and some rotting trees that are collapsing on said junk. I have a pretty clear dream for an occupation that I'm not going to tell you the specifics of since someone would inevitably end up doing it themselves and leaving me with nothing. I have a neighbor who seems to want to partake in this business dream if I ever get it going. He doesn't speak much English nor does he have many friends, so he'd be less likely to take my project away from me. 'still have to be careful, though.
My cash still has value, and this large document in front of me...somewhere, wherever I put it...is waiting to be signed so the new management company can do their thing, probably charge me 10K to deal with the deadbeats who live there, and get my income coming in again.

One foot in front of the other...
"Oh Lord, help me."
I wish I had a Lord to help me.