#but i refuse to wash the dishes myself so ill just buy new ones

[dzozef]

ive decided that my newest hobby is mixology this is who i am now

[forestryfae]

man it is SO nice to find a solution to a really shit problem only for 50 other problems to happen

i am completely alone with zero support in a house i hate, doing as much housework as possible so it can be manageable both in day to day life and so its not hard to just leave when i move, and i still am not getting any help getting rid of the stuff.

i have almost no money and i have to pay to take the train to buy food or neccessities and i was dumb enough to not send a letter sooner so i dont know if ill get my money until after christmas or not, i havent bought more than one christmas gift either cus im fucking broke, and i dont feel anywhere in my body that i want to spend time making something for anyone. my brother still isnt done paying me my money back and literally hasnt talked to me since last time he asked for money, my dad hasnt fucking talked to me in ages and the one time he called in summer it was out of boredom to ask when i was gonna visit them, none of my extended relatives talk to me at all so what the fuck is the point there, and my mom is just. a fucking bitch.

i had her removed as a legal guardian, not even on purpose initially but because folkenemnda or whoever sent her a letter before i was able to have a meeting, so she ofc got fucking offended and now has decided sve cant be involved in anything. she cant call electricians, she cant help fix the house, its "too difficult" for her to have to talk to me or my new legal guardian instead of just buying stuff right away, and she told ME to get a new phone service provider. i had to fix that myself. on top of her being, once again, a useless bitch. dont touch my stuff i say, its fucking embarrassing that you have dirty laundry she implies while moving all my furniture around and doing shit to my kitchen while refusing to acknowledge its my house but still treating it like her own, and not fixing the internet again after they unplugged it.

so i have no access to internet besides my last 150 mb of phone data unless i call some guy to fix it, but they wont be here until next year most likely so its pretty much pointless, and if i buy phone data i have to pay. so if i cant get it fixed ill be literally alone for two weeks straight with no people at all around me and noone i can talk to on the internet. except for fucking. christmas. idk about new years eve. and i dont even fucking like my family, i dont even want to spend time with them, they treat me like shit.

the ac doesnt work since mom got the electricians to look at everything but never actually hired anyone to fix shit and now is completely uncooperative. and after they checked the fireplace in that control like two years ago im not allowed to use it, and mom never actually got that fixed either even though shes been in charge of absolutely everything since forever.

plus both heaters downstairs are set to 27c or max and it still is only like 17 or 19 or so, i have an entire room in the house i straight up cant use cus theres no power and no light and 17c in there and its full of stuff i asked mom to take to the thrift store for me 6 months ago. also i cant leave either heater on if im boiling water or washing dishes cus that overloads the entire fucking thing.

and its just like so much bullshit all at once and ive been spacing out for like 2 hours while writing this cus i get so frustrated and upset and angry and sad. its not fucking fair that my parents literally dont care about me, yet im expected to be fucking sociable and call and visit them and reach out. they didnt reach out to me or support me at all when i was a kid, or a teenager, or an adult, why the fuck would i want to deal with them. but if i dont go to visit them on christmas or i point out that hey. youre not really being fair or nice to me at all, hell breaks loose cus i should be more than happy with the crumbs they give me, as if theyre the best people in the world for fucking. calling once every six months or letting me celebrate a holiday with them.

like. im stuck here for 2 weeks, im broke as shit, no connection to the outside world once i use all my data, i very much am still mentally ill even if im better than before i went inpatient. but once i go back ill have to go back to work and i dont have a psychiatrist to talk to and im not on any meds i think i might need and i havent been tested for anything yet, i havent been had driving practice yet, i can barely talk to my support contact, i need a lot more help than i am being given, im not getting the help i ask for when i do ask for it, and thats on top of shit parents and a shit house and two cats i love but am not sure i can keep given the whole thing where im gone for months at a time. and i just. how the fuck am i supposed to be able to keep a job or ever move out or make friends properly or keep a new apartment or house or be mentally stable. its so much bullshit all at once wtf

[pip-n-flinx]

Among Us

So this is going to get long, this is going to get personal, this is going to be about prejudice and race and self-serving bad-faith arguments and flawed rhetoric. And for all of these reasons I’m going to leave the rest of this under the cut.

As a few of my friends will know, earlier this week I was delivered an ultimatum from my landlord/roommate. He disguised it well, telling me he was ‘concerned for my mental health’ that my ‘negativity was dragging the whole house down’ and that I was simply too filthy to live with. I won’t pretend I’m a neat freak, and I can honestly say that I have taken some pains to clean more since, to his surprise and delight, though its particularly hard to take coming from him.

“You’re always so down. It’s making you lazy and thin skinned” You know its funny you should say that, now specifically, because I’ve actually been on the up and up this last week and you didn’t mention this at all in January when I was actually at my worst, or February when I was afraid I was going to have to quit my job, or back during the holiday season when retail work was breaking my back... Only now do you think to check in on me?

“You left a pair of gloves, a letter, and a small wooden trinket on the table!” Indeed I have, as you have left your pair of gloves, well over 21 letters, and regularly set your packages on this same table, including today two packages to be returned to amazon. I didn’t realize I didn’t get to use the table the same way you do.

“You don’t do dishes! except that you did this week, which is cool I guess but still!” You do realize that I actually hand-wash every dish I use within 24 hours of using it, right? And that often the dishes you come to me bitching that I never cleaned are in fact your fiances, yes? Ok good, next question.

“You’re always complaining about work. I don’t mind that you vent, but its all you talk about anymore!” I have either lost or walked away from 4 jobs in this last year, and that has not been easy, or fun. I have worked essential retail jobs the entire pandemic thus far. Additionally, in the months leading up to you storming out of your 75k a year salaried sales job, I had told you to leave it because I could see that it was killing you. You got so fed up with the job that for 4-5 months before you left your grandma-paid-off-my-second-mortgage capitalism-knows-best-pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps-ass spent more time playing valorant and league of legends on the clock than doing actual work. Need I remind you that every time I stepped into your office, or simply stepped upstairs to get ready for work, you would complain about how awful your managers were, or how shitty someone had been to you over the phone? DID I EVER BELITTLE YOU FOR ANY OF THESE THINGS????

The real kicker was that the spark, the moment that started this (at least for him) was me trying to explain why racism and ‘cultural supremecy’ was bad. I had brought to him something I thought we could both agree on, that we could both laugh at. I brought him a series of tweets about how problematic Van Gogh was for studying and imitating traditional japanese painting techniques. He took this, and immediately turned into a piece of the culture wars. Now, I agree, this is an egregious example of trying to ‘cancel’ someone. How cancelling a long dead artist who couldn’t sell his art while he was alive is important is beyond my comprehension, its not as though the market value of these comes up very often, and almost no-one will ever have a chance to buy or reject a Van Gogh. But to him this was emblematic of ‘liberals’ cancelling Seuss and Rowling.

He even went so far as to say that Van Gogh probably ‘did it better’ than the artists he was studying/imitating. Now, this is a huge red-flag to me because this is straight out of the Nazi playbook. This is William Shenker, proposing a theory of music to proof ‘German cultural superiority.’ This, if you will pardon my language, is the real culture war: trying to supplant other cultures art and history with western figures and events.

Now, for those of you who don’t know who I’m talking about, this man is sexist. He doesn’t believe women are equal, complains about women’s sports, and rejects a woman’s right to choose. This man is a transphobe, questioning the logic of ‘safe-spaces’ and allowing people to change their pronouns. This man is a Trump supporter, and voted for him twice. And all of these things I found out years after we became friends. I have in the past contemplated what it would take to cut him out of my life wholesale. Despite our wealth of shared experience and our shared interests, we’ve been drifting apart as he drifts further and further to the right. And he has been drifting. He’s parroted more bad-faith arguments from Ben Shapiro and Tucker Carlson in the last 6 months then he ever did when I first moved in with him.

I have been trying to push back, especially when he says the quiet parts out loud. I try to let him know that it is not acceptable to say he would rather an unarmed black man die that risk that a police officer might be injured. When he compares the people in control of Seuss’ intellectual property and works choose to stop printing less than 6% of his published works to the book burnings in Mao’s china. When he says that its more important to protect teacher from students trolling them by changing their pronouns than it is to protect trans or NB kids. When he espouses his belief that trans and NB kids are ‘just mentally ill.’ Whenever he says any of this shit, I have pushed back. I have tried to halt, or at least slow, his descent towards eugenics and white supremacy and fascism.

It has been to no avail.

And to be honest its exhausting. I wanted to believe that he would trust me, not just to be a moral and thoughtful person, but to be educated and informed on these issues. We went to school together, spent countless hours solving homework and trying to crack games together. If I don’t know the answer to his questions immediately, he often jokes ‘C’mon, you’re supposed to know everything!” and has frequently told me that I’m selling myself short.

But apparently all that trust and all that respect goes out the window when I challenge him. Suddenly I’m ‘overly negative’ or ‘too sensitive’ or he’ll ‘need to look into that, but...’

And the thing is, he is capable of great acts of kindness. He offered to rent me a room in his completely paid-off house, no mortgage at all, simply because he could see living at home was killing my mental health. He offered me 50-75% off of market rate. He buys gifts all the time, has landed tenants job interviews, set people back on their feet, and refused to press charges for several major financial loses he’s taken on the determination that it would do more harm to the defendant than he could ever recoup from it.

But he does not extend this kindness, this generous soul, to everyone. And lately, his circle grows smaller, and his kindess has waned, and it’s been so devastating to see him slip further and further towards his own worst impulses.

I know there will be people who think I should have cut him out of my life years ago, who can’t believe we never talked enough to know that he voted for Trump in 2016. I think back then he was genuinely ashamed, or at least guilty, about that vote. Now? It’s almost a matter of pride for him. I can’t tell you the number of times in the last 4 months that he’s told me that Biden “couldn’t possibly” be as “great” a President as Trump.

And he hides behind this “praise them when they do good, cuff them when they do bad” line and I used to take comfort in it but now... Now it’s clear that it was just a front or excuse for liking these abhorrent people.

I’ve had a couple of hard conversations with some of our mutual friends about what this means for me, and how I interract with the whole group of friends as a whole, in the last 3 days. None of our mutual friends seem to take any of these things as seriously as I do, with my oldest friend even telling me that he ‘can’t imagine’ breaking a friendship off over politics.... I know I know, the caucasity of it all, yes ha ha. And it does make me genuinely worried that I’ll wind up losing the 5-6 close friends that I actually rely on these days over this horrible sonuvabitch. But all this personal venting aside, there’s something bigger here I want to address:

I sat down this evening to watch Last Week Tonight and I was struck by this piece about Tucker Carlson, because while I knew some of what was said on his show, he is remarkably confident for a man who spouts the quiet parts of racism/sexism/homophobia on TV. I have a hard time imaging a more blatantly racist thing to do then declare that a woman who suggested ‘dismantling systems of oppression wherever they are found’ wants to dismantle the American system...

And I have to say, we should go back to punching Nazis. I want these fuckers afraid. I want them to crawl back to the furthest reaches of the internet, relegated to be laughed at for their bigotry by pundits of every political ideology. I want their vile vitriol hidden away where it doesn’t embolden others. I want them to know that they are out of line, out of touch, out of time. I want them to feel ashamed, like the relics of a bygone and worse era that they are, and for them to quietly fade to an ignominious death. I’m tired of seeing them on National News. I’m tired of Pewdiepie’s channel and influence refusing to die despite all the horrible things he’s said and done. I’m tired of Ben Shapiro spouting off about a woman’s place and rights, as if he has any fucking authority on the matter. I just want these people to lose their platforms and their followers. And for me the fact that they haven’t yet is so incredibly discouraging.

I know I didn’t offer any answers here I’m just tired of being alone with this defeated attitude and I guess I needed to get this off my chest as I try to disentangle myself from the losing battle of trying to save a friend from alt-right radicalization.

[themurphyzone]

All Time Travelers Go to Heaven Ch 8

Thanks for being patient everyone. I was playing catch up on MLP: FIM. 

Ch 8- A New Name

The child was still asleep. The serum must have been more taxing on his body than Balthazar and Vinnie realized. Vinnie had prepared an extra plate of breakfast, but now it would need to be warmed up. For someone who had been a science experiment his entire life, the kid was unusually trusting. 

Balthazar made a mental note to call Brick and Savannah and ask them for an update on their investigation. And if they knew a safe place for a young boy away from the prying eyes of the Bureau. 

“Dakota, do you think it’s all right to wake him up now?” Balthazar asked, his hand hovering uncertainly over the child’s shoulder. “I’d prefer that he doesn’t sleep all morning.” He moved the backpack aside so he wouldn’t trip over it, then his curiosity got the better of him. Opening the flap, he found all sorts of objects in the Jinx’s backpack. Some weren’t out of the ordinary, a plastic bag containing a few nuts, or a small paperback book. Then he found an anchor and three hedge trimmers. 

Hedge trimmers could fit in some backpacks, but most people didn’t keep one on hand. The anchor, however, couldn’t be explained. Balthazar concluded that the backpack was invented at the Bureau. There was no other explanation for how it could hold an anchor and the child had no issue carrying it around. He closed the backpack and moved it aside. 

Vinnie peeked in from the kitchen. “Okay, go ahead and wake him up. And ask him if he wants milk or OJ. It’s the cooler way to say orange juice.”

Balthazar nodded, shaking the Jinx’s shoulder gently. “It’s ten in the morning,” he said softly. “It’s imperative that you eat to keep your strength up.” 

The Jinx yawned, pushing himself up. “Morning. Do I get to pet a horse now? Wait...” Rubbing his eyes, he glanced around in confusion. “But the barn! And, and the hay! I thought I was gonna have to pick hay off my clothes for sure this morning!” 

“Yes, well,” Balthazar cleared his throat. “Bales of hay are rather ill-suited for an apartment. What you experienced last night was a hallucination brought about by fear serum. We shall be keeping you here for the day to make sure the serum has run its course. However, I expect you to be ready for a trip to the store tomorrow so that we can buy you some clothes.”

“Oh, wow,” the child murmured, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his head. “I can’t believe I thought that was real. I still think it’s real.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. 

Balthazar patted his back. “Let’s get some food into you now. Do you prefer milk or orange juice? I think you’ll quite enjoy Dakota’s cooking.”

“Orange juice is fine, thanks,” he replied.

“He wants orange juice!” Balthazar shouted. 

“One glass of OJ coming right up!” 

He helped the child off the couch, realizing that he was still in the same clothes from yesterday. A couch leg snapped off, and a loose spring caused one of the cushions fly out and smack Balthazar in the face. He coughed indignantly, throwing the cushion back in its proper place. 

“Sorry!” the child yelped. “I didn’t mean for Murphy’s Law to cause you any trouble.” He hesitantly sat down at the table, taking a sip of his juice. The microwave beeped, and Vinnie pulled out a plate of eggs and bacon, taking a piece of toast out from the toaster and setting it all in front of their guest. 

“This is the second time I’ve heard about this Murphy’s Law. What exactly makes it so dangerous?” Balthazar asked, sitting down on the seat next to him. 

Vinnie lightly smacked him in the shoulder. “Any questions you have can wait until after he’s finished. Look at the kid, he’s practically a skeleton!”

His shirt did look rather large on him. And those bruises would probably be stinging too. But it was nothing a little ointment couldn’t fix. 

“No a skeleum,” the child said through a mouthful of bacon. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Balthazar chided. “Wonderful. He’s got your eating habits.” 

Were they denying him food at the Bureau? That would explain why he was so thin....

But some children were naturally thin. Maybe it wasn’t anything to worry about. 

He polished everything, his mouth surrounded by crumbs. “That was the best breakfast ever!” he exclaimed. 

“Wipe your face and brush your teeth,” Balthazar said. “The bathroom is the first door on the right. And after this, we’re giving you an proper name. It would be quite rude of us to call you ‘child’ or ‘the Jinx’ all the time.”

“That’s really nice, but I wouldn’t even know what to call myself!” He headed to the bathroom, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. 

Vinnie began washing the dishes, humming thoughtfully. “There’s gotta be something we can work off,” he said. “I know! Let’s name him Elvis!”

“Elvis,” Balthazar scoffed. 

“What?” Vinnie asked innocently. “Okay, well, Frank or Ringo work too. Though he doesn’t really look like a Frank now that I think about it.”

“You are not naming him after musicians from decades long ago!” Balthazar complained. 

Vinnie shrugged. “It wasn’t that long ago. So what would you name the kid, since you kindly shot down my suggestions?” 

“Something respectable. Such as Bartholomew or Sebastian,” Balthazar replied. Vinnie snickered. “What? They’re perfectly good names!” 

“We already have one long name in this room that begins with ‘ba’ and nobody wants to name their kid Sebastian unless they want him to grow up to be a butler,” Vinnie said. “Besides, they’re completely outdated.” 

Before Balthazar could make a comeback, there was a loud crash from the bathroom. He rushed to the bathroom, knocking on the door. “Are you all right?” he called. 

“I’m fine! The bar holding up the shower curtain broke and I fell trying to fix it! I think I got it now!” There was a clang of metal against the tile. “Never mind.” 

“Would it be all right to come in so I can look at it myself?” Balthazar asked. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you try putting up the bar on your own.”

“Sure, one sec!” There was another crash. “Whoops....”

He opened the door, and Balthazar was relieved to find the sink and toilet in one piece. However, the shelf that held their shampoo bottles had toppled over, scattering the supplies around the toilet. It split down the middle when he picked it up. 

The child was staring at a spot on the wall, refusing to look at Balthazar. Vinnie leaned against the door, placing a comforting hand on the child’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. This place is falling apart on us anyway. Besides, Balthazar was always saying something about replacing that shelf. Guess you helped remind him.”

“Fine. I think we have some spare wood in storage,” Balthazar said, heaving the bar over his head and putting it in its proper place. “Ah, there we are. Easily fixable. Meet us at the table when you’re done. Since Dakota and I can’t agree on a name, it would only be right to let you decide what to call yourself.”

The Jinx nodded. Balthazar and Vinnie left him to his own devices, closing the bathroom door behind them.

“I can’t believe you actually finished a mission,” a feminine voice said. They turned around to find Savannah smirking at them. “Congratulations on your adoption, by the way.” 

“Thanks!” Vinnie exclaimed. “Sorry about the apartment. We weren’t expecting company.”

Balthazar crossed his arms. “How did you get in here? And where’s Brick?” 

“Whoa,” Savannah studied her nails. “Direct. Didn’t expect that either. To answer your first question, your front door is broken. Brick is...incapacitated at the moment.”

“Oh. Did he get injured when you were investigating the Bureau?” Vinnie asked. “Because that guy is built like...well, a brick.”

She shook her head. “No. Our first investigation went smoothly. We went to a bar afterwards and Brick had a little too much to drink. Don’t ever be around him when he’s on a hangover. He gets...needy. But I digress. I’ve come to warn you that agents of all ranks will be hunting you down. Your stunt at the asylum has propelled you to the top of the Bureau’s Most Wanted. They’ll be wanting to cash in on the hefty reward.” 

“But how do they know we took him?” Balthazar growled. 

“Henry and Lawson blabbed,” Savannah said. “Honestly. You never bothered to conceal your identity. You were easily recognized. The camera feed from the broken robot confirmed their story.” 

He had overlooked the important details. 

Again. 

When they went shopping tomorrow, they would need a lot of clothes. While Balthazar could overlook how his green formal suit was outdated in the 21st century, it was clear that he would need to change his style. They would all need to change their style to avoid capture. 

He didn’t wish interrogation on his worst enemy, much less a child. 

“I suggest you start searching for other places you can stay,” Savannah said. “They’re eventually going to find you here. But I should get going now. I promised Brick I would pick up some medicine. We’ll keep you updated. Goodbye.”

And she was gone. 

Balthazar glanced at the broken front door. “I hate to agree, but she has a point. It would be disastrous if an agent could just walk through there. We wouldn’t be able to hop through a portal in time. Perhaps we can add scouting out alternate places to stay to our to-do list tomorrow.”

“I know some great restaurants that have posh lobbies we could sleep in. Or heck, even in the main dining area after hours,” Vinnie said. “And we wouldn’t have to worry about food either.” 

Balthazar nodded. “While I would normally be cursing your appetite, a restaurant wouldn’t come to mind for any of our potential captors as a place of rest. Staying at a motel would be too obvious, and we wouldn’t have enough money for the long term. Perhaps schools would be a good option too. Of course, we’d have to be careful staying at all these public establishments so we don’t get caught by the police or employees.”

“I’m done!” the Jinx yelled. His cowlick was flopped over his face, still sopping wet. “And your showerhead only fell twice! Don’t worry, I didn’t break it.” 

He was still wearing those dull clothes from the Bureau. “Hey, kid. How about for the rest of the day you take one of my undershirts?” Vinnie asked. “You were sleeping in that last night.” 

“You sure about this? I don’t want to be any trouble....” 

Balthazar nodded. “Your current shirt is better suited for dusting a mantle. As long as you’re living under this roof, you will follow certain rules. Dakota’s shirts are kept in the bottom drawer of the bedroom. I would greatly prefer that you don’t touch anything else.”

Vinnie coughed. 

“Please,” Balthazar hastily added. “And after this, we shall no longer put off matters of your name.”

To his relief, the Jinx managed to change his shirt without incident. After that, they sat down at the table with a baby name book that Vinnie had in his possession. 

For some reason. Maybe he had been born into a large family. 

He flipped through the pages uncertainly. “There are so many names to choose from. And that’s not even counting languages besides English!”

“Take your time,” Balthazar said. “Maybe we could find something that goes with your surname, if you know it.”

The Jinx shook his head. “The only names I know are the scientists and Murphy’s Law.” 

“Wait! I’ve got it! We’ll name you Vinnie Junior!” Vinnie exclaimed. He held up his hand expectantly, frowning when Balthazar folded his arms and the Jinx stared at his hand. “Aw, c’mon! It’s rude to leave a guy hanging, you know!” 

“What are you trying to do?” the Jinx asked curiously. 

Vinnie gasped. “You don’t know what a high-five is? They really don’t teach you important social cues at the Bureau, do they? Just slap your palm against mine.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you though,” the Jinx rubbed his neck, shrinking in his seat. 

Vinnie winked at him. “Trained agent here. Look, Balthy and I will show you.” 

This time, Balthazar high-fived him without a fuss. When Vinnie gave him a puzzled look, Balthazar frowned. “I didn’t high five you the first time because I refuse to encourage your lackluster naming skills.”

The Jinx grinned. “Well in that case, high five!” His palm brushed by Vinnie’s, only hitting his knuckle. 

Vinnie shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Eh, first time for everything.” 

Balthazar watched in amusement as the Jinx flipped through the book, murmuring softly to himself. He slammed his finger down on ‘Henry’, only to shake his head and continue searching for a different name. For five minutes, he was stuck on ‘Aaron’ and ‘Leo’, then decided he didn’t like either of them. 

Vinnie opened a pretzel bag, offering some to the Jinx, who distractedly put the pretzel stick in his mouth and sucked on the end while skimming through the ‘R’ section. 

An hour later, the Jinx had four names written on a post-it that he wanted to use process of elimination on. Curiously, they all started with ‘M’: Mikey, Mason, Micah, and Milo. 

“I grew up hearing Murphy’s Law thrown around all the time,” he explained sheepishly. “So I definitely want Murphy for my surname. Maybe I can turn the tables, make something good out of misfortune. The alliteration’s just a bonus. I guess out of these, Micah sounds a little old-fashioned for me.” He looked at Balthazar. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” 

Balthazar was glad that the child hadn’t heard his original suggestions for names. He would have been just as mortified as Vinnie, if not more. “Old fashioned isn’t for everybody,” he said. “Three choices now.”

Vinnie snorted. “Definitely not for me. Otherwise I’d be trapped in a boring stuffy suit all the time.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. The Jinx crossed off Mason as well, though he didn’t voice his reason for doing so.

“Mikey Murphy...Milo Murphy...Mikey Murphy...Milo Murphy,” he murmured. 

“Down to these two! Then maybe we can pick a middle name!” Vinnie said. “Wouldn’t it be funny if we went with a ridiculously long name?” 

Balthazar put his hand over Vinnie’s mouth so the Jinx could concentrate. “He’s not a royal. From the looks of it anyway. There’s no need for a long name unless the person in question has a ridiculously overblown ego.”

It took ten more minutes of silent debate, but the Jinx looked up from the post-it, smiling. “Okay, I’ve decided. From this day forward, I will be known as Milo Murphy!”

He stood up in his chair, pounding his fist in the air. Balthazar gestured for him to sit down before he could fall. 

“Welcome to the team, Milo Murphy,” Balthazar said, patting Milo’s back. Milo glanced up at him, his eyes sparkling with glee at not being referred to as a Jinx. “This will not be all sunshine and fun. Danger will be our middle names on this road we have chosen. But follow our instructions, and you shall be safe.”

“Whoa, that’s cool!” Milo exclaimed. “And I choose Danger to be my middle name! Except, maybe pronounce it like Don-zhay, to differentiate from the actual word.” 

“Milo Danger Murphy has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” Vinnie asked, smiling as Milo danced around the apartment with a newfound spring in his step. If Balthazar hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would’ve refused to believe that this was the same child cowering under an umbrella less than 24 hours ago.

Balthazar nodded. “An incredibly nice ring. And our mission is to protect the boy behind the name.” 

[janiklandre-blog]

Thursday, February 16, 2017

10:30 a.m. - cold, sunny   I'm back from a 9 a.m. appointment with a podiatrist. Dr.Goldenberg on East 86th Street. The nurse friends I have had - Christine and now C.B. don't like touching people - Christine became an expert on meds and her patients loved her, meds brought relief - pain killers a great problem in America, there is so much pain. C.B. martyred herself for 7 years in Germany doing Altenpflege for the Jesu Bruederschaft - now big in Gnadenthal near Frankfurt - fancy, we googled them - these groups, there are many attract young people who feel guilty and have a need to repent - cradle Catholics are constantly repenting. She got up at 4 and began scrubbing floors, had to tie down the patients, work at least 12 hours a day or more - she was young and enjoyed it. Thenshe came back, worked as a nurse's aid and was smart enough to get an R.N. - as was Christine - she took advantage of nurse shortage and that you could enroll in junior college without a high school diploma - after a two year course you could become an R.N. - Christine was working for cerebral palsy, a good job, still I suggested visiting nurse, she tried, was immediately accepted and paid her dues working in Harlem.he ended up a contract nurse, able to take off as much time as she wanted - she spent winter months in Mexico - and she was paid by the visit, I believe it was $100 per visit - often an insulin injection. She could see a good number of  patients and made a smart move to buy the condo at Christadora house - after being rejected for other purchases - now can rent it out for big bucks, she has stocks and bonds and pension - I'm not sure if you can get pensiuon and social security - in any event she is much smarter than I am, adored by my family that I shared with her - including my first daughter in law whom I treated like a daughter - I was shoved aside as an old fuddy duddy - many do see me that way. Christine was born 1943 in Warsaw - eleven years after me, and was drop dead gorgeous when we met in 1968 and she attached herself to me - to drop me wordlessly in 1995. Bravo! Now C.B. had four brothers - an uncle a priest - a devout family - one brother was in Bolivia intending also to become a priest with Maryknoll - suggested she come, she stayed 11 years and had gret adventures, saw a lot of Latin America - made wonderful friends and in 1997 she took a room at the Catholic Worker in New York, addressed me at a Friday night meeting, her mother is of German background, she had lived 7 years in Germany - she heard my German accent - which also had gained me favor with Jane Sammon, a brilliant woman. I immediately gave C.B. a key to my 6th Street walk up - she drew me in at the C.W. where until then no one had talked to me - Jane had welcomed me warmly but she is extremely busy - and by 1997 I was 65 years old - not very interesting for the men - and at that time living on the proverbial she string - from 1967 on when Robert G. divorced me and decided to make me realize how hard it can be to make money - I had been hustling - the Germans call it jobbing, you can also call it freelancing - my hopes for a small teaching job had fallen through, thousands of humanities Ph.D.s after 1968 driving cabs, washing dishes - and I, withiout knowing it then, had a CW philosophy: my time was more precious than sitting all day la.,ong in a bank - I had good atteibutes for banking, four languages, good looks, good manners - Mount Holyoke B.A., UCLA M.A., Columbia M.Phil. - had I had a serious interest in making money - but I didn't. I would have loved, still would love to make some money with my writing - writing thousands and thousands of pages - I was not able to break into the field. It has defied me - and it's not just the money - it's more importantly the recognition - the respect. At CW I was put, am put into the immense group of poor, old, lonely women happy to volunteer  - read wash dishes or label newspapers (pure make work) - and what appealed about the CW to me vs other volunteer work - like teaching reading for example - you must take a course and then follow the instructions of the program and to keep "the job" you have to be reliably on time. I have remarked about volunteer work before and have written essays, buried somewhere deep in the thousands of pages. At one time there was a speaker at CW from some human rights group, I sent a resume - we don't need you, was the answer. I realize it is women of the upper classes, who also contribute financially who work for all these types of organizations - combined with a fancy social life - travel, parties - the world C.B. has made it into. She has the right social background - father naval officer - and after Kathy Kelly invited her in 2002 to travel to Iraq with her - she was in, oh so in, oh so in. Last year she traveled to Finland, to Germany, to Ireland, to Kurdistan and Iraq - being treated like Mother Theresa, feted, wined, dined, admired, published - and I have watched her rise since I first met her in 1997 - 20 years ago. Now she is ready to drop me too - she was born in 1947 - no more use for a useless old woman. She has agreed to come tol my small party tonight. Earlier I mentioned the German word: tuechtig - my mother's favorite word, found it related to Tugend - virtue - and had sadly to conclude: I am not virtuous - tant pis - too bad. Halleluja I'm a bum again - my the song - I like bums, I am one of  them - the woman who never made a lesson plan - who hitch hikes - and at times also can act as a gutter snipe - most unlady like - and I did go to groups who dealt with that "symptom" - that you can get away with in NYC - not in a small town. There only once if you express your anger - it's all over. You are branded. That is why I have been hanging on to New York In these groups - now called re=evaluation counceling - peer counceling - people do talk of apologizing for "inappropriate anger" and I have done that too. Another long topic. It has become very popular to label people bi polar - it is an official disease and there are plenty of pills to treat it and enrich the doctors and the pharma industry - it used to be manic depression - bi polar is a - now the word escaped - like passed away - a polite word, politically correct - and decent people admit to it and proudly proclaim: I am mentally ill. I am aware of what happened to the mentally ill after Hitler came to power - and since often they are trouble makes  euthanization - another p.c. work for killing - is considered merciful to take them out of their misery - and save their friends and relatives the misery of having to deal with them. Having grown up in Hitler Germany I refuse all labels, am not a joiner and never have pinned any button to myself or a car I am driving. To finish this. Alas Hitler was willing to pin labels on me - until the fire I still had the yellow star my mother was supposed to wear, saying: Jew. Others love to pin labels on me - like my once upon a time millionaires sister in law, a Mormon - who has told my sons: she is a commie. My sons have been very good to her when her only child was dying, a millionaires too - but now her millions will fo to the Mormons - not to her neohews, who struggle - all my fault of course. So, I may have said, I went to a doctor and refused all exams and tests - and I have familiarized myself, thanks to the NYT with "delibertate death"  Freitod, in German, possible now in Vermont and I soon plan a trip to Vermont to find a doctor who provides this opportunity. I've long ago said, I'll never do chemo, no operations for me - lately I have been reaching out for help - in vain.I texted C.B. asking for help - laughingly she told me she was at a party - good for her. In my younger days I always found help - lately a number of women came to clean - I'm not much of a cleaner - also I've lost dexterity - I paid them generously - two women from CW came to collect the money I put out for them, just cleaned a little. Today I would love a little help to set up for a small party - not one person available - they have masses to attend, volunteer work to do, classes, a movie to see - not one willing or able to come before 8 p.m. - my guests have to leave Amherst late - I hope they will be here by 8. I realize, I have become useless. Unproductive. And while words are flowing for me - I don't sleep enough - four hours at best - after a while my energies run out and for a while you will not hear a word from me. The engine stops working. Computers go down. I have learned to deal with my silences - I go to my wonder library and read countless memoirs, at the CW they love me:you are so wonderfully quiet - take pills and be always quiet - we have important things to say and so - all in all I'm ready sign out - disappoint all the wonderful doctors who hope to make some money on me. Adios I also realized this morning that when Jane S.problems, she has a niece, a nurse, also her God child who takes care of her - I have no one. And I also realize that all of us telling Ken: see a doctor was useless. One of us - I? - should have taken him by the arm and said: now we are going to a doctor. Had I known that my sweet Ken might be still alive - and in his sweet and reliable ways helping me with technology that so baffles me.