Fleeing the iPigeon nest of home, once again.

One of my inherited and inlaid tenets of a sound psychology in the context of a home as nurturing environment hinges upon the simple assertion of that individuals deserve to be treated with kindness,  understanding, and respect towards their internal stability and trust capacity for themselves to thrive,  as internalized beings of their own volition and personal fortitude, as well as for the trust to rely well upon others, given the grace of a kind and gentle home nurturing environment. 

I'm of the belief that there is, typically,  no argumentative basis,  upon being formed and expressed,  out of anger,  that could have not been resolved better through simple patience, communication, and kindness.  I recently fled home,  after being significantly berated and yelled at by my sober living home / transitional housing manager. He pulled out significantly faulty and self-righteous claims over me,  and what had been going on with what he saw as faults of myself,  for not cleaning my bed,  and for letting my room and living space come slightly disorganized. 

He made claims of impossibility,  as I had received them - such as that he accused me of not having bought groceries for the place,  whatsoever.  Patently and simply not true.  This stance of a claim over what the truth of the matter was, given that I had been purchasing groceries for the place - left me with the disappointments I'd experienced as a child,  growing up,  and knowing well enough,  what appropriate treatment would look like,  but rather that anger and violence would, instead,  ensue out of the conflict that had developed,  of a child and caretaker (parent) dynamic, which I felt was a sorely wrought wound to uncover,  on the part of the housing manager,  with me as a client.  

That being said,  I went out in to the world, and failed at understanding the dangers that ensued,  as a result of expressing my life,  through my mobile devices,  whereas that my iPad Mini had become an object of targeted desire,  and I discovered it lost,  after finally sleeping,  for having been up for a week.

I woke up,  the next morning - fraught with the trauma of a dramatic complexity of one of Dante's infernal layers of Hell,  yet uniquely my own,  in the context of my own secret and subliminal fears.  

For some reason, beyond conceivable means of understanding,  I could not intuit where I ought to set out,  upon waking - for the sake of finding my way home.  I'd been imbued with the sense that I lived at Apple Computer headquarters,  of which there was a local establishment,  thereof,  in the South Park, DTLA area.  Somehow,  the context and reality of home had been significantly at issue, with the looming architecture,  and reflective glass doors seeming to suggest that there was an identity unknown, and exclusive,  perhaps,  of the institutional use of said architectural design.  

A Trojan Horse cryptic riddle had fully embedded itself,  of my vulnerable station in life,  having been woken up,  of the daylight,  whereas I desperately required significantly more sleep,  and I had been awake in to the early morning hours, posed with matters of ethics and loving-kindness towards others at issue,  for me,  as a challenge to follow up on,  in order of that I maintain my best,  most proper, and respectable self-image within the context of critical analysis of my Scientological worth,  as that fate and my fortunes would recall,  throughout life. More than that,  the micro-climates and gravitational harmonic suspension of stable barometer had been notably upset,  even during the daytime,  leading up to this night, finally ended with sleep. Many automotive vehicles had been notably put to their last legs,  for showing up in my walking vicinities,  that I noticed of them. The integrity of the tires and body suspension, grinding, and squealing, of the weight collapsing upon itself.  It happened to be the Ides of March. The moon, high overhead,  as that it were visible; and hot on this day, that of the weather.  

My personal shopping cart also fell subject to detriment,  as it broke upon itself,  the spokes,  and the axles.  I carried a heavy load of recyclable materials,  as I traveled to and from the recycling center, although I did make it back in to town,  and safe,  well enough,  to purchase another cart. 

I took the loss of my iPad Mini with grace,  having been much of the constitution of speaking on positive reinforcement psychology and well-being,  as well as of Christian virtues and tribulations, and of faith, in deeds,  words, and acts.  The stages of loss were contexts in my mind - very familiar.  

Thankfully, although posed with the context of coming to terms with my loss of material goods,  I had good graces,  aside from the superficiality of being attached,  and emotionally volatile,  as an alternative perspective that could have, I'd have taken on,  otherwise,  given a less stable foundation of support and expectations on me,  being that I'd been linearly conscious and attentive to the higher powers of authority and oversight, over the span of an entire week - my station in life,  one of consequence to live out,  for obviously best circumstances that could conceivably be offered me,  given that my attitudes and personal statements,  and the soundness, thereof,  not impinge upon common expectations and establishments of decency,  of which there was, thankfully, richly well supported,  and hours to come,  and had passed,  of the support of higher intelligence,  and of the rebuke of depravities; we were strong,  together.  

The iPad Mini,  all in all,  would be seen to have been ephemeral,  and a childish thing to publicly bereave. I packed up,  and moved on,  and slept for the days that ensued, until now.