Fleeing the Plantation
Several of the four-man barracks rooms would face off around a covered patio or courtyard with a lot of outdoor chairs, sofas, tables, and conveniently placed USB charger outlets. The furniture would be reasonably comfortable. None of this steel grate stuff that leaves grill marks on your ass. The whole outfit would have wifi coverage. The patios would have such wind screens as may be necessary to make them tolerable. A strong wind can be extremely annoying when you're trying to do anything besides just sit there. Additional screens could be used to create semi-private collaboration areas.

The goal of this arrangement is to create little "neighborhoods" within the overall facility. I want it to be more community than communal. There's no reason to have the entire pueblo up your ass at all times. That only causes chaos and friction.
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There are certain little things a person needs in order to be a productive member of society. One of them is having the time and space to think and plan and organize and take care of personal business without constant distractions. The indiscriminate warehousing of vast numbers of people doesn't facilitate that.

Another is having a stable base of operation. A place where you can come and go at will, knowing everything will be as you left it every time you return. This is the reason people buy or rent homes in the first place. Duh. Making people leave and take everything with them and stay gone for twelve of every twenty-four hours obviously isn't going to give anyone a sense of security and stability.
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One size fits all warehousing cannot possibly succeed at the goal of setting the individual on a steady course and returning him to normal life. There's nothing in the design or implementation of the system to enable it.

Further, when the system is administered by self-serving staff with dubious credentials who have no training in sociology, social work, or mass psychology, and whom the clientele perceive as being crass, rigid, and indifferent, the system that may have been intended as a beacon of hope can't help but descend into a cesspool of despair.
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I mean even if the outfit was staffed with qualified personnel who were dedicated to the mission, it would be a major challenge.
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Ideally, the day to day operation of the veterans shelter would be directed by a hetero-normative husband and wife team who live in a private dwelling on the premises. If one or both of them had training in one or more of the aforementioned fields, so much the better. Their main purpose would be to demonstrate normal living and impart life skills unto the clientele.
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The usual cafeteria model makes the most sense for cooking for and serving a large number of people, and military people are used to it anyway, so that's a no-brainer.
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Clients will be responsible for cleaning their own rooms, bathrooms, and patios. Conjugal visits will be arranged amongst roommates, same as in the real world.

Volunteers will perform kitchen, lawn, and garden tasks, with some kind of rewards system, and under the direction of a head cook, groundskeeper, or what have you..
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Oh, and the headmaster and headmistress will personally dish up a hot plate for each client as he reaches the serving line. They'll greet him cheerfully and inquire about his day or whatnot.
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This will necessarily require a couple of very sociable folks, which means I won't be running the joint directly. LOL
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I had a minor surgical procedure last week, and moved into a group home for homeless veterans upon release.
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I was wondering where you were!

Sounds like you at least have better living arrangements now.
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Yeah, it's a lot better. We have an open kitchen stocked with a shit ton of food. I made chicken and dumplings for 20 guys my second night here. I made spaghetti and meatballs tonight. I found the JC Potter sausage in the blue package is great for meatballs.
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Well thank goodness... I'm very happy for you. That sounds awesome. A quality diet is important for healing.

I hope you can stay there for long enough to fully recover and then start on the next chapter of your life.
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The house manager said my social worker from the VA has a form that can expedite my Social Security benefits. I see the social worker tomorrow. I have several appointments at the hospital this week and next.
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The kitchen is off limits from midnight to 5AM. Around 11PM, whilst I was lying in bed looking at YouTube, I got to jonesing for egg drop soup something fierce, so I looked for a video on how to make it. With 45 minutes to spare, I ran downstairs and banged out a quick and dirty version of it. While it tasted good, it wasn't like the soup you get in a Chinese restaurant. Egg drop soup is my favorite Chinese food, so I'll be spending some time perfecting it in the near future.
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I've made egg drop soup a few times. It actually comes out alright, but damn, nothing is ever like you get in the restaurants.

I love miso soup too...

Drool 2
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The lady in the video claims her soup is restaurant style, but I've seen them do it differently in restaurants. I think they separate the egg whites and yolks. The yolk appears to be congealed before they put it in the soup. They use a squirt bottle to add the egg whites, which makes the long strands. The soup base has a rather slimy texture, which makes me think the yolks don't solidify when they're added.
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I tried another recipe that also claimed to be restaurant style. It was somewhat better than the first, but again, no slimy texture.

Let's talk shit about veterans, or military people generally.

These guys have poor impulse control. When I was in the service, there was a McDonald's on every base I was stationed at. Come the first of each month, when we got paid, there would be very long lines at Mickey Sleaze. The chow hall would be practically empty. Towards the end of the month, when everyone had blown their paychecks on booze, carousing, and fast food, the reverse was true.

Something happened today that reminded me of that. The food bank dropped off a shit ton of food, including a bunch of frozen pizzas. These guys were cooking the pizzas hand over fist all day. They're not particularly good pizzas. The crust has a rather spongy texture, like foam rubber. But just the fact that it was pizza - quick and easy junk food - drew the guys like cockroaches.

The food bank also delivered a lot of bread, including several cases of bagels. Unless I miss my guess, they'll burn through the pizzas in a couple of days and be stuck eating bagels until the next delivery.

Another thing I noticed about many vets is that they love to hear themselves talk. They'll prattle mindlessly along for five or ten minutes at a stretch without letting you get in a word edgewise. I get listening fatigue from a few of them.
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They have a weekly group meeting with a couple of VA social workers on Wednesdays here at the house. There seemed to be an implicit assumption on the part of the social workers that the residents would get so bored or whatnot while the hospital is closed for Veterans Day on Friday that they'll resort to drugs and alcohol to amuse themselves. I found that a little bizarre. This house is supposed to be focused on helping veterans break the cycle of homelessness, if indeed they're caught in such a cycle. There's a whole other house across the street that handles the substance abuse angle.

Another thing leapt out at me that I found a little concerning. The group meeting was ostensibly intended to encourage sharing our opinions and thoughts on a number of matters related to recovery and self betterment. Yet every time I spoke up, the social worker leading the group would listen to three or four words then turn away and tune me out, as if desperately hoping someone else would chime in and drown me out. And of course one of the guys who like to hear themselves talk would inevitably do so in short order. This even happened when it was my turn to hold the conch shell, not just when I spontaneously chipped in my two cents worth. I started wondering why I was even there if nobody wanted to hear me speak. The female house manager does the same thing whenever I speak to her. Yes, this reaction is clearly directed at me and nobody else. I'm not imagining it. It reminds me of how my narcissist abuser would turn away and tune me out. Now I'm wondering if there's something about me that's so repulsive that people, and particularly women, feel uncomfortable engaging with me, even when it's their job to do so.

I don't require external validation so much that this kind of treatment is going to make my world crumble by any means, but it is truly puzzling and annoying.
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This video nails it in the first three minutes.

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