#problem is that it's a steady paycheck with set hours that pays more than any other set hours in town

[itstimeforstarwars]

The retail feel of I need a cigarette so fucking bad.

[ko-fanatic]

Blood, Guts and Chocolate Cake

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Danganronpa

Pairings: IshiMondo

Summary:

Mondo Owada, the Ultimate Bodyguard, is entering a four year contract with one Kiyotaka Ishimaru, the Ultimate Idol. It makes sense, two Ultimates put together for their high school careers, and he could use the steady pay check to send home to Daiya; those medical bills were a bitch, and it was his fault the accident happened in the first place.

It was supposed to be easy, guard the cutesy, clean-cut idol from perverts and stalkers, no big deal! However, the world's perception of Kiyotaka Ishimaru was far different than what the young idol had become. During the first few months before even stepping into Hope's Peak, he's more worried for the young boy than he's ever been for anyone before.

TW: Alcohol, and eating disorders (both restrictive behaviours and B/P), mentions of disability, underage sex/sexualisation, drugs

The hallways of this damn building were too long.

That was definitely the first impression Mondo got, being led down said monotonous hallways by a young woman with an expression which implied that she simply wasn’t paid enough to care about small talk. Not that he had any room to judge, hands shoved in his pockets and a permanent scowl on his face. He might’ve been going to review an upcoming contract, but the best thing about his position was that there was no need to be all smiley; Hope Peak’s choice for Ultimate Bodyguard was all the credentials he needed at this point. 

Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated by how long he would be working with these record label types. He couldn’t deny it made sense - hire the Ultimate Bodyguard to protect the Ultimate Idol, sound logic; it was just that a four year contract was… a lot. That wasn’t even thinking about the fact he was going to be glued to the guy’s hip for all that time, having to get along no matter what. Would he even have time to make friends of his own? Doubtful. Still, a paycheck was a paycheck, and he’d have to go to some highschool anyway, so kill two birds with one stone. 

He’d never had an issue smiling through vapid celebrity bullshit before. It was going to be an easy ride, too; from what he knew, the guy was as prim and proper as they came. Real boy next door image. Easy to take care of, and mainly just telling overzealous fans to back the fuck up. Simple. 

His inner monologue was broken by an abrupt stop, the woman only sending a bored glance his way before knocking. The door was pushed ajar with the quiet muttering of “Mondo Owada to see you, gentlemen”, before he was unceremoniously shepherded into the room. 

It was just as big as you’d expect from a building like this, with a gargantuan desk and several business-types sitting across from him. They were even backlit by a floor-to-ceiling window showing Tokyo in all its glory - like some cheesy ass movie. Still, taking a cursory glance around the room, he couldn’t see anyone fitting the description of “teen idol”, let alone Ishimaru himself...

“Owada-san, good afternoon!” One of the men greeted cheerfully, clasping his hand in one of those firm yet professional grips he’d gotten used to since rising up in his career, “My name is Shiro Kamei, and these gentlemen are Kenshin Aki and Yutaka Hayashida. We’re Kiyotaka Ishimaru-san’s managers.”

“Well, that answers one question,” He shrugged, not sugarcoating his words, but not being as rude as he certainly could be, “But I don’t see Ishimaru-san around. If I’m meeting with anyone, I personally think it should be with the guy I’m gonna be with 24/7, for the next four years.”

“Of course!” Kamei-san chirped, far too cheerful for his taste, especially considering the stench of ass-kissing that followed it. Not sincere, but too many meetings like this one had trained him to swallow down the vomit that threatened to spew from the fakeness of it all. 

“Ishimaru-san will be here soon,” Hyashida-san intoned, temperament a bit more palatable than Mr Chipper, “He’s a rather busy young man, being an idol of his caliber. Dance practice is just wrapping up, any minute now, so we can use this time to have a little chat - go through expectations for your role and such.”

Mondo managed to stop himself raising an eyebrow at that. Like he wasn’t the best bodyguard in Japan. He guessed it was something needed for a job of this sort, not temping or whatever, and so he settled down for a bunch of timewasting jabber. 

Or, it was, until a certain request caught his attention.

“We also expect him to be kept out of, well… trouble…”

“Thought he was a cutesy, innocent kid?” He frowned, sitting a little straighter in his seat, attention piqued, “I’m guessing he’s the kind to get mouth-breathers and creeps, huh?”

The three men looked a little more caged at that remark. A couple cleared throats, a few tugged collars and cuffs, awkward air. 

“Yes, there have been incidents, but nothing previous security couldn’t handle,” Aki-san informed, “The issue is a recent change in attitude. Nothing much, but tugging on the leash more than necessary, if you understand my meaning.”

He did. Part of him wanted to object to the idea that a sixteen year old needed to be kept on a leash at all, but idol shit was full of PR. 

“So boy next door is going through a little rebellion, and you want me to make sure it stays on the DL,” He shrugged, “Got it.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that, Owada-san -!”

Kamei-san was interrupted by several short, sharp raps, door opening to reveal the man of the hour. 

Ishimaru was pretty, no denying that. His eyes were what really caught everyone’s attention; bright, wide and doll-like. That said nothing about his facial structure - cheekbones and jawline and everything prominent - or his barbie doll-esque frame. He was probably one of the slimmest people Mondo had ever seen, at least in person. Well, and outside of a hospital. The media went absolutely gaga over his thigh gap, his lithe abs and delicate hip bones. 

He personally prefers a little more meat on the bones, a little less fragile, but he guessed it was an idol’s job to appeal to the masses. 

“Good morning, everybody!” He beams, but honestly? The sunshine emanating from him is a lot warmer - a lot more real - than Kamei-san. He actually had to take a second to come back to himself, knocked off equilibrium. The power of the Ultimate Idol, for you. 

“Kiyotaka, this is Mon -”

“Mondo Owada,” He cuts in, wanting to introduce himself, cut the preamble, and offers his hand to shake, “‘M gonna be the one guarding you.”

Ishimaru gives him a once over, and for two seconds he thinks he sees a smirk pull at the corner of the young man’s lips, but he soon brushes it off as a trick of the light. 

“Thank you so much for accepting our proposition, Owada-san!” He grins, and Mondo hates his little bi heart at that moment. Ishimaru clasps his hand. He can’t help but feel that they’re too calloused for a pretty boy idol, but he doesn’t dwell on it, “I hope we get along well!”

He’s loud, but the words are sweet, and Mondo relaxes a little bit. Easy job, as he thought. 

---

Mondo was proven wrong in a matter of three days into his contract. He’d certainly been proven wrong far quicker than that before; however, in terms of sheer what-the-fuckery-is-this, this situation took the cake. 

The train journey to the first tour destination wasn’t bad, if tedious. Kid spent all his time reading, and Mondo had no clue how he didn’t puke all over the place from staring at the pages. He’d looked at his phone for about five minutes and was ready to lie down and accept his death. 

… Trains were not his prefered method of transportation…

Ishimaru had passed on the sandwiches on offer, but so did Mondo. No big deal. Those things sucked ass, and maybe the kid was more nauseous than he seemed. Wish that was him, considering he was pretty sure his face was pale green. 

Settling into the hotel was fine, as was the tech set up in the venue. Stress emanating off everyone, but pretty normal as far as that shit was concerned. Ishimaru was dragged between costume fittings, tech run throughs and other things that just passed in a blur. 

No, what really proved to Mondo that the pretty boy idol was going through an actual rebellious phase, was what he walked in on at 11:56pm, night three. 

He’d gotten up due to a serious inability to sleep. Seriously, did he manage to get jet lag without even switching time zones? Nah, didn’t work like that. Maybe it was second hand adrenaline from the performance being tomorrow. Ishimaru might not make his kind of music, but the guy had this infectious enthusiasm for it all. He’d be backstage, too; premo location to see everything up close. He couldn’t help the slight smile on his face, in spite of how tired he felt. 

Any fleeting, fuzzy feelings disappeared, however, when he walked into the main area of their hotel suite. 

There stood Ishimaru, back to him, very much not dressed for bed. His jeans were so tight they looked spray painted on, not to mention the sequined top that cut off to show a tantalising flash of milky pale skin.

“Where’re you off to?” 

His question seemed to startle the kid, who practically jumped three feet in the air, hand clutching his chest as he whirled on him. 

“Fuck, what’s your problem?” He gasped out. Mondo couldn’t help but let his eyes widen, having not heard the boy swear since they met. Admittedly, it was only a few days, but Ishimaru just gave off such an innocent vibe. He’d questioned if the boy even knew a swear word for a while. 

“The guy I’m meant to protect is running off into the city at midnight, and obviously didn’t plan to tell me,” He answered bluntly, “So, come on, where’re you trying to slink off to?”

“None of your business,” He sniffed, shoulders squaring, “And stop… talking to me like that. Like I’m a child. It’s annoying as shit.” 

“Alright, sor-ry, jeez,” He apologised, hands up in surrender, “Let me just grab my coat and -”

“No!” Ishimaru ground out, “I’m going out, you're staying here, and my managers are none the wiser, got it?”

Oh, that sneaky fucker. While Mondo was all for personal freedom, no way was the scrawny kid going out there to get attacked and murdered in some urine soaked alleyway. For one, it’d completely fuck up his plans for the next four years - no money to send back to Daiya, and he seriously doubted Hope’s Peak would want an Ultimate Bodyguard who let the world’s most popular idol get murdered in a matter of days. 

“Yeah, no, not happening, kid,” He shut down, reaching over the boy to get his coat, only for hands to press against his chest, stopping him. 

“What do you want then? Money?” Ishimaru asked, looking up at him through his lashes. Fuck, the kid really went all out with the makeup; smokey eyeshadow and liner, glossed lips, the whole deal, “Or I can suck your dick?”

He nearly choked at that, face hot as hell and probably an embarrassing shade of red. “N-No! What the fuck?!” He yelled, only earning a shrug in response. 

“Look, I need to go out - alone,” Ishimaru began again, arguing a point Mondo simply wasn’t going to agree with, “I need to get a little fucked up, railed into some guy’s mattress, and then I’ll come back. I’ll be here again before sunrise.”

“Tugging on the leash more than necessary”, his ass! 

“Sorry, you're talking to the wrong guy,” He dismissed, doing his best impression of Daiya’s you done fucked up voice he could, “Back to bed. Don’t think you’re sneaking out, either. I’m just gonna stay out here all night, make sure you don’t go and get yourself cut up and dumped in the river. Y’know, my job.”

“Fuck you,” Ishimaru spat, storming back to his room with a mutter of ,“Asshole…”

If Mondo knew one thing, it was this… He’d really had no idea what he was signing himself up for.

---

A/N:

WOW, it's been a while since I've written for this fandom. Thank you Taka and Mondo for being an adorable pair of dumbasses and dragging me right back into DR. Hopefully, I'll add to my old fics too, but I've got lots of new ideas I want to play with (Including two other talentswaps and two AUs!)

For now, Ouran fics are on the back burner, I'm afraid. I'm sure I'll be back to them soon enough, but I'm a bit burnt out in my OHSHC obsession, so we'll see.

Also, as always, comments really help and if you want to take any of these concepts and run, go for it! All I ask is a credit and a link if possible! :)

[mvnvgedmischief]

unremarkable days.

summary: sirius black is trying to be a good man, a good brother, a good person. Sirius has a steady job designing book covers for a publishing house, a flat he never leaves, and a traumatized brother who was just removed from the custody of his parents. All in all, it's wildly unremarkable.

chapter:  4/?

characters: sirius black, regulus black, wolfstar, background marauders

tags: tw: canon compliant abuse, child abuse, social services, abuse

words: 3. 8 k

read it on ao3 here

read the last chapter here

Sirius knew that work was going to be high stress all day. He felt sick to his stomach, thinking about the way he would continuously have to talk to people, when all he wanted was some peace. He wanted downtime. Time when he didn’t have to think about how he needed his paycheck to put food on the table, clothes on his brother’s back, pay bills to keep his lights on, wifi for homework. Regulus occupied his thoughts at all times, protecting him was Sirius’s only priority these days. He didn’t have time for anything else. Not his friends, not his interests, not music. Nothing could come between his focus and his brother’s wellbeing, because if it did, Sirius would never forgive himself. The consequences were too dire. So instead, he just wished for downtime that wouldn’t come, and prayed for the weekend to approach even faster. 

The weekend, when he could finally sleep again, albeit not well. The weekend, when he had the time to take a breath, even if it was only brief. Because his weekends were also spent finding ways to better equip his apartment for his younger brother, going to long grocery runs so Regulus had lunch to take to school, meal prepping all of the things he couldn’t bring himself to eat for dinner. He was definitely tired of all of the ways his mind was spiraling out, he didn’t have the time. He didn’t fault Regulus for it, it wasn’t the teen's presence in his life that was causing all this stress. It really was his own fault. A bit of crying at that first hearing had given Walburga and Orion the satisfaction of a victory over him at that first hearing, and they seemed to crave more of that chaos. They wanted to watch their children suffer, and this was how they chose to do that. So instead he spiraled in the privacy of his own home, because he could practically hear the words they burned into his mind whenever he saw them, and feel the ache of old beatings. 

But it was only Thursday, and that meant he still had to do this all day, and  then get berated by the rest of the team for not attending their weekly bonding happy hour. If he was lucky,  no  one would ask him to go. He knew he should be less terrified of them asking, most of the people on his team were his friends. There was simply the question of Remus, and Sirius didn’t have the time to be thinking about him in the first place. 

He didn’t have time to think about  the way his hair curled just the right way to fall into his eyes when he slept, or the way his caramel freckles made him look sunkist. He didn’t have time to think about the  pink scars that ran down Remus’s face or how they got there. He definitely didn;’t have time to think of the comfort  of his hand combing through Sirius’s own mop of unruly curls. So instead, he needs to  put  all of that out  of his mind. It wasn’t going to help him do well at work. It wasn’t going to solve his problems. He didn’t have the  time for this, nor did he have the emotional bandwidth. Perhaps that was why Sirius was conveniently avoiding the idea that he had asked Remus on a date. With some luck, Remus would think he was just an asshole who ghosted him. That was definitely complicated by the fact that they worked together, that he couldn’t just disappear. He wanted to, he really did, because there was simply no time. 

He set up his deliverables as though he had made tons of them, because his employment in this company  rode on it. Just two months ago, he was pegged to be promoted within the next two cycles, and now he could barely hold on to his sanity enough to handle his workload. He was so fucking tired, and he had so much on his plate. He needed to mentally prepare himself for the long day of meetings ahead of him. He had no true motivation to do his job right now, all he knew was that his exhaustion was no excuse. He knew that his boss, Alice, was giving him a whole lot of leeway right now. She was probably doing more than she should to help him. Being a mentor on the senior design team didn’t mean she needed to keep tabs on his personal life and pick up his slack. 

“Sirius–” 

When Sirius focused back into the meeting he was calling into, it occurred to him that they’re talking to him. So he did what he always did, blamed it on a shoddy connection. 

“Oh, sorry, can you repeat that? My audio cut out.” 

“Remus was saying that some of  the poems could probably use illustrations, and he was wondering if you had any ideas on which ones needed it.” 

“Thanks, Peter.” Sirius was glad that he knew the people on this team, that Peter and James were as close to him as anyone could be. Because otherwise, he’d probably be fucked. 

“So I was looking through them, and I was thinking Bite, Magick, and Love I could probably use larger scale illustrations. But at the same time, we don’t want to crowd the book. How attached are you to the current order or page arrangement?” 

It felt too close, but he was lucky that he had at least read the titles of some of the poems in the first half of the book. Sirius knew Remus didn’t actually know what his level of involvement was. He thought it was just doodles, but Sirius would be responsible for presenting everything from kearning and font choice within the pages, to illustration and cover art to the design team. He was integral to the success of this book as a product, and he  needed to start acting like it. 

“I’m pretty attached.” Remus sounded cold to Sirius, and he wondered what exactly he had done wrong in this meeting. And yet, he didn’t have time to think on it. He needed to keep things moving, keep getting valuable information out of the author. Hook up be damned, Sirius needed this book to actually get off the ground. 

 “Okay, well we should get a meeting on the calender to discuss. What poems and what scale of illustrations you want–” 

“Shouldn’t you be deciding what the illustrations look like and the logistics of those. Isn’t that what you  get paid for?” Remus really wasn’t making this easy on Sirius. But he had dealt with bigger demons and divas then whatever this attitude was. So he put on a light and airy smile, one they’d never know didn’t reach his eyes over the low quality webcam and nodded. 

“If you’d like to take a hands off approach with the design work, that can absolutely be arranged. But in the case of a fledgling project with a new author, the design team, myself included, really hope to prioritize your artistic license so that we can get a better sense of your vision for your literature, should Quill move forward with other publications in the future.  We can provide a completely in-house service, with as much input as you feel necessary during the design process, and deliver collateral towards the end of the project when final edits are done, if you would prefer, Mister Lupin.” 

Sirius practically wanted to scream. He needed Remus to stop fucking with his job, with his livelihood. He couldn’t lose this project. He needed all of the billable hours he could get if he was going to justify the overtime he needed in order to provide for his brother. This was ridiculous. But his clinical and polite answer must have thrown Remus, because he didn’t get much more attitude out of him. The back and forth had ended. So instead, Sirius pulled up his deliverables for the week, which included new iterations for the covers, and twelve illustrations for the three poems he had mentioned. 

He noticed the way Remus looked at his drawings, like he was pained by whatever his thoughts were, and Sirius wants to scream that he’s under no obligation to think that they’re good. But then he remembers that Remus seemed to be nitpicking on purpose, based on his critique of the design system itself. Sirius didn’t have the time to deal with that level of petty, just because he hadn’t been answering. He was too busy. He had too much on his plate. So instead he continues his presentation. 

“I don’t like any of these. Maybe you should start over.” Remus sounded vindictive, even mean. Like he was doing this out of spite.  Sirius could feel his heart drop in that moment. He didn’t want to start over. He didn’t have the time. 

“What do you not like about them?” Sirius is trying to salvage his work while he can. 

“The vibe is off.”

“Oh, is there something specific that throws it off or...” Sirius trailed off, wondering what exactly he needed to change. 

“No, it’s the whole thing. All of them are just off.” 

Sirius needed to think quick on his feet. He didn’t have the time to start from scratch, so he pulled up his original thumbnails that he had discussed with Remus. 

“These are the original sketches we discussed. I moved forward with the ones we talked about. I’m happy to rework those sketches,” no, he wasn’t. “But if there’s another sketch that you think would fit your vision better, please let me know.” He felt like he was pleading with Remus not to hate his artwork. He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t a blow to his self esteem to hear that everything that he did was bad. 

“No, I would suggest you start over.” 

Sirius nodded, his mind immediately whirring with ways he could start over and re-design this project. He really didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to do hundreds of thumbnails to get set on thirty, only to be destroyed in a meeting again. Especially when Remus seemed so excited about all of his illustrations before the meetings. It felt like too much. He didn’t have the energy for this kind of behavior. 

Luckily, Marlene directed the conversation away from Sirius’s work. The rest of the call went on without a hitch, like the only person who’s work Remus had a problem with was Sirius’s. He knew that it was more likely for Remus to have a problem with him, because design work was usually something an artist thought of as easy; however, this felt calculated and cold. If Sirius had been avoiding Remus before, it definitely wasn’t about to get better. So instead, he listened to the end of the meeting, and started the project all over again. He could do this. It was an unremarkable critique. It didn’t matter.

[softandweto]

Help

I know I should put this up somewhere else, but I can’t. Tumblr is my only option and I need all the help I can get right now please.

I had to make a GoFundMe because there’s nothing else I can do. Please spread the word and the link is right here. I’ll be putting the same info in the GoFundMe under the Read More for those who want information up front.

Hello, I hope this finds any who visit well. Before I get into the reason for me making this, I’d like for you all to know how we got here.

My name is Xenia and my boyfriend and I have been living together for nearly a year now. At the beginning, things were going very well. We both had a stable income, and while that trailer was not the best place, we were secure and didn’t have to worry much about finances. Then, March came around and Covid hit us hard. I lost my job as a Teaching Assistant for Special Education, and my boyfriend’s job got more dangerous as a Med Tech working in a nursing home. I was unable to find a job for months, and things were starting to take a bad turn. 

We had some friends living in the state next over who had offered the both of us to move in with them. My boyfriend would have to go back to CNA work, however, as that would be the only license of his that could transfer to the state. My license as a Teaching Assistant was originally for that state, so it seemed to be perfect. After weighing all our options, we decided to make the move and take the risk.

Once again, things were looking well. We both got a new job within the month, and only had to worry about paying a combined $600/month outside of our car payments. With all this, we were able to put up with a lot of things. A majority of the house leaving the place in disarray for the both of us to handle. The racism that we didn’t catch up on until the end. The disregard for my dogs and their health. The fact that, despite how behind the house supposedly was on bills, they could afford to continue to finance new furniture and electronics while we could barely afford to pay the rent and our own food. We could put up with it because we were with friends. No way they would do all this on purpose.

Eventually, after two months of living there, it became too much and they used every excuse possible to force us out of their home and ostracized us. Suddenly, we were the issue. It was our fault their dishes continued to pile up. It was our fault they felt too anxious to leave their rooms. All their problems were now because of us. We had no other choice to move in with my mom and my brother in our old state. Once again, we were out of jobs and couldn’t find work no matter where we looked. I eventually found a job as a server again, but he was unable to find any work despite his CNA credentials.

When October came around, I was working full time for a server minimum wage, while my boyfriend had finally gotten some good news and was starting to work. We scrimped and saved for two months and were finally able to get enough to get our own home. A trailer in a small suburb just outside town was freeing up early December. At first, the price for the rent seemed impossible to make. But, I had received an email from a work from home position I applied for. Early January, I would be starting with them for more than minimum wage.

Things were finally coming into place. Things were once again looking up and we could taste the stability. Then, after a week of being moved in, we decided to enjoy a meal together made in our own home. All the stress, all the craziness we had put up with, it was worth it. But, we couldn’t taste our food. We started noticing the coughs when we were moving, but didn’t think much of it till then. We got tested, and our fears proved to be true. We had Covid.

It was brutal. It felt like suddenly we’d lose everything. The two weeks we spent in quarantine was like our own personal hell scape. Within the first week I was notified they were training someone else to take over my Shift Lead position. A title more than anything, since the pay did not change and minimum wage was all I could get, but that didn’t stop what I knew was coming next. A few days later, I was let go. Tossed aside like an inconvenience. For my boyfriend, they just put him out entirely. For the third time in one year, we were both out of a job. But now, we could face eviction.

We recovered from Covid, and just in time too. I was able to start my new job, but two weeks of no pay had put us out tremendously. One company hired my boyfriend, but we would shortly learn that they would never actually give him any hours. December and January have tested us on what we could and couldn’t live without. We had to forgo a majority of necessities.

We couldn’t set up a disposal service. We had to leave mail to pile up. Living off Dollar Tree groceries. Go weeks without gas. Pawn what we could just so we could make rent and utilities. Now, with February ending, all of this has caught up to us. 

Months of garbage have piled up so high we’ve designated a “trash room” just to keep it out of the way. Toiletries have been out for weeks, but we can’t even afford groceries so soap and cleaning products are out of the question. Our propane is almost completely gone. All the cans of food we had stockpiled are a day away from running out. And we can’t afford our bills. Not with all my checks being used to barely keep us alive.

My boyfriend has recently started a new job, but they won’t pay him in time for us to pay our bills. Which is why I’m reaching out to y’all for help. We have both done everything in our power to keep ourselves above water, but now we can no longer keep it up on our own.

Here is a breakdown of our situation as of today:

My recent paycheck is completely gone after using it to get some of our bills stabilized, but they are already getting back into the red with how far behind we are.

Our car payments are coming up as well as insurances. One car payment is my full check, and we won’t be able to pay for one of them, much less their insurance

We were able to get rid of four bags of trash thanks to some helpful neighbors, but it’s starting to pile once more and I’m worried bugs will start to come out

Internet and Electric must be paid within the next few days in full or risk disconnection. With these two gone, I can’t make any money whatsoever

Food will be out as of Tuesday and with no money left from my check, we’ll be unable to get any groceries for who knows how long

We just ran out of Propane which is used to keep water hot as well as to cook

I hate asking for help and not letting people know what the situation is or what the money will be used for, so I will do so now.

I am asking for 2500 which will leave us with a touch of extra money for things like groceries, toiletries, and vehicle maintenance that is greatly needed. The breakdown is as follows:

$550 - Rent

Rent is due on the 12th of each month and requires two checks to meet. Last month we were able to pay in two separate payments, but our landlord has said that it was the only time and March forward it will need to be in full each month.

$650 - Car Payments

Both cars are $300/month, but we’ve passed my boyfriend’s due date and have incurred a late fee. My car is due on the 6th and if it’s not paid in time, they will repo.

$500 - Insurance

Both Insurances are ~$250 each. Without the insurance, the cars will also risk repossession and my boyfriend needs the vehicles for transportation

 $235 - Internet + Electric

I’ve lumped these together since they are both necessary for my job as well as being ones that need to be paid by this Tuesday or they will disconnect

$100 - Propane

$100 gives us enough propane to last a month. Without this, we can’t shower, do laundry, or even cook

$120 - Disposal + Mail

Disposal and Mail service needs to be set up as soon as possible, but to be honest they are low on my priority list compared to everything above.

$345 - Groceries, Toiletries, Cat Care, and Car Maintenance

With the extra money we can comfortably get through a month with little hassle. I know that more bills will be due later on, but once my boyfriend starts getting steady checks again We can at least make it through on our own with this little extra

I know that right now, things are very tough. I may also come about as rather...presumptuous and hopeful that maybe, just maybe, people can help us out in our time of need. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you see this and are unable to help us out yourselves, please spread the word as much as you can. I cannot allow us to fall after everything we’ve been able to get through this horrible year. Please, if you can give even a dollar, that’s one dollar closer to getting out of this hole.

Thank you, and I hope that you all have a safe and happy time going forward.

[monstaxdesires]

The Arrangement (Chapter Four)

(Chapter One) (Chapter Two) (Chapter Three)

“Thank you for bringing me home,” you say as Wonho shuts your front door behind you both. You shed your heels and shawl trying to ignore the bundle of nerves from threatening to unfurl inside of you.

“I always take my dates home,” he says and you glance at him.

A cheeky grin on his face making you shake your head trying to hide your smile while moving towards the sofa. He sheds his shoes and jacket before following. He had already disposed of his bow tie and cuff links in the car.

“Go change into something comfortable Baby. I can wait.”

“Unzip me?” You ask, pulling your hair over your shoulder. He reaches up and gently lowers the zipper. If he heard your heart hammering in your chest he didn’t give any indication away.

“Thank you.” You say turning to look at him again.

“You’re welcome.” His voice is lower and you shiver a little.

You leave him and go to your bedroom. You glance back at him to see him taking a seat on your sofa. He watches you close your door after giving your a reassuring smile.

After slipping out of the dress and changing into a t-shirt and leggings you come back to find him admiring the aesthetics of your apartment.

“Hey,”  he murmurs patting the empty spot beside him. You take it curling up beside him. His hand falls to your leg, his thumb stroking back and forth in a comforting gesture. “Thank you for attending tonight and charming everyone.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

He shifts to look at you before throwing his arm across the back of your couch. “What do you think of everything? Honest opinions please.”

You shrug before pulling a pillow into your lap and picking at the little tassel on one corner. “I think I understand more now. Even with working at The Company I did not realize exactly what kind of relationship you shared with these women until I saw it tonight. Seeing you in your own environment changed how I see it.”

“And?” He questions, his hand moving to yours. His touch warm and oddly comforting. His hands were large compared to yours, making yours seem dainty and small. His thumb brushes your knuckles. You gather your thoughts quickly looking away from where he touches you. 

“I do not completely understand all of it still.”

He licks his bottom lip before leaning closer to you. “It’s okay to ask questions. Especially if you choose to become a part of this with me.”

You exhale to steady your breathing before flipping your hand in his and tracing his fingers. He watches you, a small smile on his face. You would be a wonderful companion if you accepted his offer tonight.

“I guess I do not understand the details. I understand they provide you with companionship and you are their benefactor, but what does the companionship entail typically?”

“It varies. For some it is as simple as conversation, others prefer things like this, and then there are those that prefer intimate moments over conversation and dates.”

“Which are you?” You ask softly.

“Generally,” he starts, his gaze lifting to yours. Eyes locked on yours watching for your reaction. “I prefer the later the most, but I’m not opposed to occasionally taking part in the other two.”

“Oh.”

He notices the slight unease in your expression. 

“Please remember that I do not force anyone to accept my offer for an arrangement. We both gain something out of the transaction. They are typically financially benefited and I get to quell my desires without having to let another individual think there are feelings involved because there aren’t.” His touch advances to the inside of your wrist. You shiver but stay still. “Sometimes I find the companion to be stimulating enough that I do enjoy dinner dates and bringing her along to events. You could be one of those, you know?”

“Mmm,” you say, a blush coloring your cheeks.

“Tell me why you called me.”

You shift, the uneasiness of telling your family’s business setting in. He lets you pull away and relaxes back into the sofa. You resume playing with the tassel to try to get your thoughts in order. 

“My father took a loan out so that I could move here to the city and start the process to fulfill my dream and he kept it a secret.” You being and hug the pillow to your chest for comfort. “But recently his hours at work were reduced due to a decline in production and he has fallen behind on payments. And it is my duty to pay it.”

He watches you before clearing his throat. “How much?”

“That’s not important,” you answer with a shake your head. “I was able to request an extension and it was granted. But I do not make enough at work to cover it without giving up my savings and living paycheck to paycheck.”

He frowns at you. “When is the first payment due?”

“Three weeks.”

He nods, clearing his throat. “So… you called me to see if I could offer you help since that is what I do as a benefactor in exchange for becoming one of my companions in order to cover this loan?”

“Yes.”

He closes his eyes for a moment and you worry you’ve done something wrong.

“I do have an offer for you, but seeing your reaction to what I prefer I already know the answer.”

“Tell me,” you whisper before he can change his mind on the offer. “I want to make the decision.”

He nods, before resting his elbows on his knees. “You are sure?”

“Please,” you say reaching out to touch his forearm. He turns his gaze to yours.

“Become my companion for a year and I will wipe the debt clean and then assist in helping your dream come true. You will accompany me to dinners and business events when I need,” he murmurs, his hand reaching across to your face. His thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “But you will also spend weekends with me and you will fulfill any request I ask in regards to sex during the time you are with me.”

You close your eyes, squeezing them shut. How could someone like him want someone as plain as you especially when he brought all of those beautiful women to the store?

You could handle a year of companionship with him, especially after how well he had treated you tonight. You knew he would take care of you, treat your the right way, and make sure you were comfortable.

The only problem was sharing. You couldn’t share him even if it was purely platonic.

“How many companions do you have Wonho?”

“If you join, you will be one of three contracted companions. I have a few that I request temporary fulfillment from for events, but if you accepted they would no longer be needed.” His thumb moves to your bottom lip dragging across it before exhaling. “You would be all I would need for the events and the weekend company. But it won’t happen, will it? You can’t accept my offer.”

“No, I can’t. I can’t share even if there are no feelings.”

He watches you. He can see the struggle happening even if you didn’t want them to and he frowns deeply.

“I know,” he says, his hand falling away from touching you. “I wish I was wrong, I do.”

“I know.”

He looks away before turning back to you. “I will pay the first payment for you.”

“Wonho, no.”

“Baby,” he says stopping your argument before it can start. “I want to do this as a friend and for you coming to the dinner. Even if you didn’t know it, you filled the role of a companion tonight,” he murmurs softly pushes your hair back behind your shoulder. 

You blush, ducking your head, that was true. 

“You gave me a chance to prove that the rumors are not always quite what they seem and I rarely find someone that is as genuine as you. You have earned my help with these things alone. Let me help you, please?”

“It’s too much.”

“No, as your friend it is not too much. I always help my friends even if they aren’t my companion.”

You bite your lip before looking at him, genuine compassion in your eyes. “You really see me as a friend?”

He nods.

You smile before feeling the stinging threat of tears. “I thought I was just someone you could patronize while you spent thousands of dollars.”

He laughs, a real laugh and you can’t help but smile more.

“I have thought of you as a friend since day one, Baby. I don’t give my card out that much, it takes someone special to get my card and you were special from day one.”

You bite your lip and reach up to wipe a tear as it escapes.

“Do I want you as a companion? More than you know. Will you saying no deter me from continuing the relationship we have now? No, because you are my friend.”

“Wonho,” you sigh before reaching to wipe your tears as more fall but he moves to wipe them. His thumb dragging under your eyes to catch them.

“Talk to me.”

“Since moving here friendships have not come easily. I have Ann but other than that it’s really just me.”

He smiles at you, making you meet his gaze. “Well you have one more, now stop crying. There is no reason to get so upset.”

“Thank you,” you whisper before moving to hug him. 

He pulls you into his chest aware of how much he appreciates getting to see the real you outside of the four walls he always saw you in. You were even more than he imagined you would be. You tip your head up and he smiles down at you, his hands stroking the back of your head. 

“Thank you Wonho.”

“For you, anything,” he murmurs softly and then he grows bold lowering his head to brush his lips against yours. It’s brief, barely there, enough to tease at all the thoughts you’ve had about how his lips would feel against your own. “I had to do it. I have thought about what you would be like to kiss since I met you.”

You blush before biting your lip. “I have wondered the same.”

Wonho chuckles before lowering his head again catching your lips in an actual kiss. His hands fall to your waist, pulling you into his chest after you deepen the kiss. You press for more, the soft plumpness of his lips everything you imagined and more. A soft groan escapes when the tip of his tongue drags across your bottom lip. Your hands slip into his hair pulling yourself closer to him. The thought of anything but the way he kissed you melting away. He ends the kiss, his pupils blown with lust as he stares at you. You were breathing hard, cheeks flushed, and eyes wide.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says before dipping his face down to yours, but he pauses inches away from kissing you again. “You haven’t had a boyfriend since moving here have you?”

You shake your head, eyes searching his for what he is getting at. You wanted his lips again, the craving unfurling inside of you. They felt so good against yours. He kissed so damn good and it was one of the things you missed most. 

“And I assume that means you haven’t invited anyone into your bed either?” He lowers his face until his lips are ghosting along your jaw. “Am I right Baby?”

“Yes.” 

You shiver, eyes fluttering close once his lips dip to your neck. You tip your head giving him better access. Your hands sliding from his hair down to his shoulders.

 “Wonho,” you shudder and he smirks against your skin before nipping at your earlobe. 

He lifts his head again and you can see the lust in him just like it was now running rampant in yours.

“Be with me tonight, no judgement, and purely as friends. No benefactor or companion arrangement.”

Your lips part in shock and he smirks.

“Say yes Baby.”

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Don’t worry about that. Friends help friends even if it’s in an unconventional way,” he says reassuring you while he drags his hand down the curve of your waist to your back. 

You close your eyes, thinking over it, hands gripping his shoulders when he dips his head down again brushing his lips along your jaw once more.

“Say yes,” he whispers in your ear. “Please Baby, say yes this once.”

You shiver, hands dragging down his torso to the top of his pants. He groans before turning to press his lips to yours with more determination. You kiss him back and he smirks against your lips. You end the kiss before brushing your nose against his.

“Yes.”

His lips chase yours as he moves to pin your under him on the sofa making you laugh and kiss him back.

(Chapter Five)

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #222: A Gathering of Evil!

August, 1982

You know, I haven’t really thought about how long its been since the Avengers have dealt with the Masters of Evil.

The Masters are the Avengers’ evil opposite team. The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants to their X-Men. The Legion of Doom to their Justice League. The Revengers to their Avengers.

But the Avengers haven’t had to deal with the Masters of Evil since Avengers #83. And in that appearance, they took a backseat to the real master of evil. FEMINISM.

At least according to Roy Thomas.

But yeah. Its been a while without the Masters of Evil. And, uh, any team with Whirlwind has a long way to climb for credibility. Yeah, I said it. He doesn’t wear a shirt.

Also, they put She-Hulk in her at-the-time Iconic She-Hulk Outfit. This is another case of the cover lying. The reality is, somehow, even more embarrassing for her.

Last time: the Avengers had a membership drive because you can only be a kooky quartet for so long. She-Hulk and Hawkeye were recruited and took an instant dislike to each other.

Because She-Hulk cut off Hawkeye in traffic and Hawkeye proportionately responded by breaking her car.

Fun!

So lets get to it.

We start with She-Hulk trying to fix her car.

Annnnd she’s throwing random pieces out of the hood. I don’t think she knows much about auto-repair.

When the electrical system zaps her, she gets so angry that she smashes the car flat like she’s a Street Fighter. Then she jams the wreckage into a public trashcan - also flattening that.

Alas, She-Hulk’s pink Cadillac. You graced our lives for far too short a time. And were taken from us by that heinous bowman Hawkeye. This is the sin which I will always hold against him.

Wasp rolls into the scene, tsking about She-Hulk’s behavior being bad for the Avengers’ image. And hey, yeah! I do like that She-Hulk trying to fix a car in front of the mansion before getting fed-up and breaking it is a good indication that she’s not going to be your typical Avenger.

But despite the tsk she’s not too serious about the admonishment. She even congratulates She-Hulk on getting rid of the car, as it clashed with her skin color.

Reasonably enough, She-Hulk asks who made Wasp the expert.

Except, Wasp did. Wasp made Wasp an expert. She’s literally a professional fashion designer. But relatedly, she’s designed a whole new wardrobe for She-Hulk and can’t wait to dress her up.

I kind of wonder if Wasp views new female teammates as potential canvasses.

Later on, in the Busiek run, she’ll design a new outfit for Firestar pretty much without any input from Firestar herself. And it had an incredibly plunging neckline that Firestar was very uncomfortable with.

If Wasp offers to fashion design for you, feel flattered and a little bit afraid.

Anyway, She-Hulk decides well might be nice to try on a bunch of new clothes.

Y’know, She-Hulk is a bit of a fashion person herself. In her original solo book she started the ‘oops I flexed and my sleeves fell off’ fashion.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Tony Stark at Stark International.

Big boss himself came down to the Long Island office because one of his programmers has asked for time off.

Brenner’s son is sick and he needs to pick him up from school. BUT: he’s in the middle of a complicated computer project!

Like the idealized fictional caring billionaire that he is, Tony is completely understanding.

Tony Stark, what a guy: “Well, your son is more important than any computer program, take the rest of the day off -- with pay.”

If you end up stuck in the Marvel universe somehow, see about swinging a job with Tony Stark. Tony Stark makes you feel/he’s the cool exec with the heart of steel.

Tony decides he’ll get Ordinary Electrical Engineer Scott Lang to finish the programming work.

Ordinary Electrical Engineer Scott Lang is happy to pick up the project but since Tony Stark is in the room anyway, Scott asks if Iron Man has mentioned any news of Hank Pym.

For you see, although you might think that this Scott Lang is an Ordinary Electrical Engineer, he is actually the new Ant-Man so he feels indebted to Hank Pym.

Tony responds that there hasn’t been any news since Hank Pym went to jail so Scott asks why the Avengers haven’t done anything for him. Tony claims that there’s not a lot that the Avengers can do for him until his case comes to trial.

You could hire him a good lawyer? Or pay for that therapy that you thought he needed?

I guess I don’t know that Tony isn’t doing these things off-screen, to be fair.

Tony further claims that Hank will do fiiiine in jail, because he’s tough. Scott remains dubious since he’s actually been to jail and knows what its like. But there’s only so much you can contradict the boss, even if he’s idealized fictional caring billionaire Tony Stark.

And anyway, Tony has other things on his mind. He’s more worried about Jan than he is about Hank. She’s way too well-adjusted for having gotten divorced after her marriage turned miserable. According to Tony Stark anyway.

Of course, his major misunderstanding is that he thinks “she had [Hank] to lean on for so many years” when it was more the other way around. The Jan he thought he knew was actually playing the role of the Hank Pym Hype Squad.

Meanwhile, we check in on Steve Rogers.

One thing I appreciate about this run of Avengers is that we have more of a sense of what the Avengers are doing when not Avengersing. The Avengers book feels a lot more keyed into the rest of the related Marvel universe.

For example, Steve actually got some art jobs! It looks like comics book actually! And he does art for advertisements too!

And he’s living that glamorous artist life of staying up all night to finish pages and then going ‘oh shit my day job’ when his alarm rings for the Avengers meeting.

Although he’s actually looking forward to getting the costume on and getting away from dealing with ad executives and art editors for a while.A good ol’ several hours in the Avengers gym will help work out the art desk bad posture knots out of his shoulders.

And elsewhere in Chicago, Illinois, where Ordinary Doctor Donald Blake has moved to attempt to make a life for himself separate from Thor. He’s doubtful whether he actually can.

I sorta wonder what the status quo in the Thor books is like because usually when Dr. Donald Blake shows up in the Avengers book, he’s been like a wandering expert doctor, just passing through. Showing up to do the tough medical jobs. He’s settling down in Chicago now.

But at least the thousand mile commute to the weekly Avengers meeting is no problem for THOR!

Now that Hawkeye is on the Avengers again, he’s part of the round of checking in. He’s clocking out of the security chief job at Cross Technological Enterprises. His colleagues all envying how he gets to set his own hours.

He takes a train from Yonkers to his new Central Park West apartment. I don’t know if you remember his living conditions before he got the job at Cross Technological but it was a bit suck. He’s definitely put his steady paycheck to use improving his digs.

Old (from issue #189):

New (from issue #this issue):

Although maybe too much. Because when he gets home he realizes that he has almost no food in his apartment and also no money until payday.

Hawkeye: “Where the heck does $1200 a week go, anyway? I don’t play Pac-Man that much! There was more change in my pocket in the old carny days!”

Psst, Hawkeye. Definitely sign up for the stipend check from Stark.

Another thousand a week will go a long way to keeping you living the can afford food standard of living you’re accustomed to.

He manages to find a bag of potato chips to snack on but decides he’ll have to see if he can find an actual square meal at Avengers Mansion.

Likely. Jarvis seems the sort to keep the fridge well-stocked and heck he’d probably make something if asked.

Anyway, Hawkeye being Hawkeye, he’s not going to take the elevator or stairs. He’s definitely going to fire a cable arrow so he can swing down from his balcony. Because, of course he is. He’s Hawkeye.

And he lands right in front of a taxi, the driver of which calls him a nut

Hawkeye: “You want a star in your cab or not?”

Turns out? No. Hawkeye has to walk to Avengers Mansion and arrives late because the cabbie won’t give him a free ride.

Meanwhile at Avengers Mansion (which fails to elicit the same kneejerk emotional response as ‘meanwhile at the HALL of JUSTICE’ from me), the She-Hulk clothing montage has occurred off-screen.

For shaaaame, James Shooter. And also Steven Grant.

She-Hulk isn’t so sure about the outfit Wasp put together for her.

Wasp: “I call it Arabian Night -- a blend of suppleness, strength and sensitivity to highlight your true nature!”

She-Hulk: “Don’t you think it’s a little... unusual?”

Wasp: “You’re an unusual woman, Jennifer! Your clothes should say that! We want a complete image that’ll drive me wild at the sight of you!”

She-Hulk: “Got anything that’ll drive that jerk Hawkeye one way to oblivion?”

I don’t know if fashion can do that but if anyone could design that, Wasp could. Her or Giger.

Wasp tries to defend Hawkeye but can only manage “he’s okay, just a little... um, well, you know!” but suggests that She-Hulk just be nice to Hawkeye to throw him off.

Which. Sounds like a funny idea.

Anyway, I like the outfit. The colors work for her. And maybe it’s because there are a couple Dragon Ball outfits like this but it feels appropriate for her. Because of the punching.

Iron Man comes in and goes ga-ga multiple punctuation over She-Hulk’s new look, which I guess proves that Wasp hit where she was aiming.

Wasp: “Oh, more flattery! More! I love it! And this is just the beginning. Wait until you see the fighting togs I’m designing for her!”

So I guess that this is just an outfit to look good in and Wasp is still working on the superhero outfit. Can’t wait to see it.

Captain America and Thor come in and Thor too praises She-Hulk’s new look.

Thor: “By Odin’s beard! What emerald beauty stands before us?”

They date later. Its one of those ‘wow expected this to happen way sooner than 2018 honestly’ things.

And then Hawkeye comes in.

He also loses his shit over She-Hulk’s new look. But in more of a Hawkeye way.

Hawkeye: “Waitaminit! Is it Cheryl Tiegs? Loni Anderson? No! It’s the new fashion plate -- the Savage She-Hulk! Talk about trying to get silk purses from sow’s ears!”

You’re a rude, Hawkeye.

She-Hulk storms towards him, offended, and just lifts him bodily.

And kisses him.

Then drops his ass on the ground.

I guessss remembering and putting her own spin on Wasp’s suggestion?

People need to stop kissing each other for spite and revenge reasons, honestly.

I do get a laugh at Hawkwye demanding a rematch. Can’t imagine what form that’d take. But its funny.

I kind of have a problem with the scene, beyond the people kissing each other for spite and revenge thing. Prior to joining the Avengers, the issue where She-Hulk got her pink Cadillac was Marvel Two-In-One #88 where she spent nearly the entire issue hitting on the Thing to his discomfort. And the joke was Ha Ha Sexually Assertive Women.

I really hope that we do not have that again.

Anyway, the other Avengers get some yuks over She-Hulk’s method of shutting up Hawkeye.

Iron Man even suggests that Hawkeye and She-Hulk have just had their first date to Hawkeye’s dismay.

Seriously, someone write an Avengers code of conduct and then create an HR department.

MEANWHILE, CHANGING THE TOPIC AND THE SCENE

In Egghead’s secret Manhattan laboratory.

Egghead: “No, it’s not fair! All I ever wanted was to rule the world -- is that so much to ask? I’m 52. That doesn’t give me many years left -- that idiot Henry Pym blew what may have been my last chance!”

Hah at Egghead having a baby tantrum over being thwarted. And I guess good to know that Hank screwing up the plan by calling the Avengers did screw over more than Hank Pym.

Hank may have saved the world, actually. Good job, Hank.

Egghead laments that he wishes he had another good plan but kind of put all the eggs, hah, in the unstoppable adamantium robots basket.

And then his sexy maid Anna chimes in with a suggestion.

Wait, why does Egghead of all villains have a sexy maid? Who seems to have a crush on him? Why is this a thing? Who in or out of universe looks at Egghead and thinks ‘yes this man is a sexual dynamo’?

Eh, whatever.

Anna: “Vhy don’t choo just buy the vorld, darlkink?”

Egghead: “Anna! Vhat... er, what did you say?”

Anna: “You should make a lot ov money und buy the vorld!”

Egghead: “Work?! Disgusting!”

This is probably the only time I will ever be able to say this but I agree with Egghead.

Anna: “No, no, no! Just invent somethink that everyvun vants -- a cure for baldness, mebbe... or eternal youth!”

Egghead: “That’s silly, Anna! Or is it?”

IT IN FACT WASN’T!

Egghead suddenly stands up, dumping sexy maid Anna to the floor, as he realizes that she’s right! If Egghead could invent cell rejuvenation to give people eternal youth, the world would be his oyster! People would give anything for it!

Granted, he has no idea how to invent cell rejuvenation but that’s tomorrow’s problem. Today’s problem is the logistics. He’ll need research, money, equipment and most importantly of all lackeys to steal all that stuff for him so he won’t have to Effort!

So moments later, Egghead signals a robot spy capsule that he has monitoring Atlantis at all times just because.

Egghead’s spy capsule launches a guided missile at an Atlantean prison, busting out someone mysterious unless you happened to glance at the cover.

And we go from one prison to another prison to pop in on Hank Pym at Ryker’s Island.

Ryker’s is apparently the go-to supervillain prison.

And whoops Hank Pym is one now, at least according to the law. What with being caught with all that stolen adamantium and the mind control prosthetic arm.

Hank Pym: “It just doesn’t make sense! All I tried to do was redeem myself, but things just got out of control! Egghead’s responsible for this! He committed the crime I’m accused of -- and made sure I can’t prove it! Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”

Probably because you did do the crime and were caught in the act and you wouldn’t explain yourself fully afterward. Just saying.

Hank Pym: “Jan! That’s where it all went wrong! If I could get her back, everything would work out! I know it!”

Hank Hank Hank... You’re suddenly a romantic.

A guard yells at Hank that its food time and then further yells that his son had looked up to Hank, which causes Hank to reflect whoops he let down more than just Jan and the Avengers.

When Hank sits down to eat prison chow, he’s accosted by Dave Cannon aka WHIRLWIND aka I guess Hank’s backup archnemesis?

Hank isn’t really spoiled for choice with good archnemeses so he either has Egghead or spin around real fast man.

At least Dave Cannon aka Whirlwind is trying to go for the personal lowblow. That’s a decent, if gross, archnemesis move.

He insinuates that hey if Jan divorced Hank that means Dave has a chance with her and he’s going to visit her as soon as he jailbreaks out of here today.

I’m sure he does have a chance. Like a snowball’s in hell, maybe.

Hank tells Dave to shut up because shut up, Dave.

But Dave ups the ante by suggesting that after Hank Pym gets out of jail in maybe ten or twenty years, he and Jan will hire Hank to be their chauffeur.

So Hank smashes a tray of food in Dave’s face because shut up, Dave.

He also starts punching him because in for a penny.

And because Hank totally started that ‘fight’ the guards haul Hank off for a month in solitary.

You wouldn’t think Hank’s life could get worse in every issue he appears in but you would be wrong.

And wouldn’t you know it? As soon as Hank is out of the room, the jailbreak starts without him.

He doesn’t even get to participate in activities now! Geez, Dave Cannon! You’re ruining prison for Hank.

Anyway, the mysterious figure from the Atlantis jailbreak scene is now jailbreaking Ryker’s and iiiiiits TIGER SHARK!

A guy I know almost nothing about!

-google- Ah, Namor foe. That explains him being a shark man.

He used to be an Olympic swimmer who injured his spinal cord when he rescued a drowning man. So a pretty good guy, starting off. Then to heal his spine he participated in an experimental procedure where Namor and tiger shark DNA was blended with his own and he became a shark man and an asshole.

I think that’s the Namor DNA personally. It makes people into jerks. And Namor is 100% Namor DNA so you can imagine what a jerk he is.

I’ve gotten lost in the weeds.

Tiger Shark busts in through a supposedly impregnable prison wall. The guards try to shoot him with ‘special weapons’ but Tiger Shark thwarts them with a special weapon of his own.

A TABLE!

Which he uses to block the shots and then hit them with.

They were fools to put their faith in high-falutin’ technology when they could have been investing in low-falutin’ carpentry.

That’s right, they should have gotten wooden guns.

With the guards tabled for now, Tiger Shark collects Scorpion and Whirlwind.

That’s two supervillains on his shopping list but there’s one more to get.

So the three detour over down to the women’s wing while the jailbreak of everyone else keeps the guards very busy.

And they find Dr. Karla Sofen, Ordinary Criminal Psychologist who got superpower from a space rock. Y’know, a Moonstone.

She has a few follow-up questions before she throws in with these goons but Tiger Shark isn’t a good conversationalist.

Tiger Shark: “You wanna get snuffed right here, lady?! Move! Negotiations are closed!”

She grudgingly accepts these terms. The caption box says so.

The four supervillains take a remote controlled escape boat and escape on a boat.

Later, in a safehouse on Long Island Sound, the four supervillains are all costumed up and already feeling cooped up with each other. It is a small house and they are all big personalities.

Tiger Shark and Whirlwind even get into a fight when Tiger Shark complains about waiting and about suburbia and Whirlwind tells him to shut up. And by fight I mean Tiger Shark smacks Whirlwind in the head. Because its Whirlwind.

Ant-Man’s backup archnemesis. And Tiger Shark fights Namor. Its a mismatch.

But its enough of a ‘fight’ to cause a stir.

Egghead: “Stop your silly squabbling! Fighting among yourselves won’t further my plans!”

Moonstone: “Wha -- ?! Egghead?!”

Tiger Shark: “What’s an Egghead?”

Hah.

I don’t know why this exchange amuses me so much.

Egghead is perfectly happy to introduce himself slash ramble on and on with words words words. He is PERHAPS the world’s greatest genius (hahahahah noooo) but says he may find a cure to Tiger Shark’s “repugnant amphibious condition.”

Egghead: “If you all follow me without question, you’ll share in my forthcoming power and wealth! In addition to being bodyguards, you’ll perform various tasks for me -- beginning tonight, when you loot a certain Manhattan medical research center to obtain data and supplies! Cross me -- and no one will ever hear from you again!”

I’ll make fun of Egghead any day of the week but I’ll give him this. He evidently delivers this speech with such conviction that ‘shark man who fights Namor’ just nods and apparently thinks yes this sounds legit.

And lets be honest, between Whirlwind, Scorpion, Moonstone, and Tiger Shark none of them look at this eggheaded guy threatening them and think about trying something.

Egghead appoints Moonstone his deputy and team leader. Because, he says, she’s such a well-trained follower.

Okay, okay, okay. Okay.

So, Dr. Karla Sofen first appeared as a henchwoman to Dr. Faustus.

But then she tricked the original Moonstone into giving the moonstone to her and became the new Moonstone. And here I didn’t even know there was an original Moonstone.

My point being, yes, early on you might look at Moonstone’s history and think ‘yes she’s definitely a subordinate person who won’t give me trouble’ but from a modern perspective?

I know Modern Moonstone for basically being the Starscream of whatever team she’s on. Starting from Thunderbolts at least, she’s never the boss, she’s happy being the deputy but she’s always scheming and manipulating and undermining her boss.

I really want this to be a hilariously bad judge of character Egghead has made. I really do.

Meanwhile, Whirlwind thinks that he’ll play along with Egghead’s plans. Until he gets bored.

And then I guess he gets bored like five seconds later because he decides that since the job Egghead wants them to do isn’t until evening, he can go visit Wasp.

And yeah. We scene transition to Avengers Mansion and Whirlwind is just lurking in the bushes spying on Wasp’s limo.

Inside the mansion, with the Avengers’ meeting over, the Avengers all get ready to go about the rest of their business.

Hawkeye saying he has to get home gets She-Hulk to start musing on how she hasn’t had a real home since she left Los Angeles.

Which she did for... reasons? She seemed like she was going to stay in LA at the end of her original Savage She-Hulk book. She probably did it so she could do crossovers. That makes sense.

Wasp tells She-Hulk that since Tony doesn’t charge rent, She-Hulk can just stay at Avengers Mansion for a while. And in a couple days, she’ll take She-Hulk apartment hunting.

Wasp is a good friend.

She heads out to her limo and tells Mr. Carrothers to take her to her Manhattan apartment.

BUT WHOOPS iiiiiiiiiits Whirlwind!

He knocked out Mr. Carrothers over the head and stashed him in the bushes. Wow, being Wasp’s chauffeur is very eventful.

Whirlwind: “Forget him. I’m the man in your life now! I figure with your ex in the slammer, you’re gonna need an understanding shoulder to lean on -- .”

And then Wasp shrinks down and shoots Whirlwind in the face.

Wasp: “That’s awfully considerate of you. But next time send flowers first, okay? By the way, have you ever met me bio-electric sting?”

Get rekt, Whirlwind.

This has been a really good span of issues for Wasp. I’m boggling a little. My standards weren’t super high to be honest but this has been good.

I mean, aside from her wearing her Avengers #194-196 costume again. The one with only one pant leg. Of all your costumes to wear under normal clothes, why this one, Jan?

Outside the limo, Hawkeye is trying to sneak back into the mansion to raid the pantry and hoping everyone else has gone.

Because he doesn’t want them to know that two-jobs Hawkeye is having money trouble, I guess? But dude, just confide in Jarvis. He’s a good guy.

Anyway, point being, because of Hawkeye’s hungry little tummy, he sneaks back to the mansion in time to see flashes of energy from inside Jan’s limo.

Hawkeye runs to Jan’s rescue and instantly gets blasted by Moonstone who has just arrived to yell at Whirlwind for taking off without her permission.

Whirlwind says he doesn’t have to answer to Moonstone and a presumably very frustrated Moonstone answers yes he does, that is the very thing he has agreed to when he joined the new Masters of Evil!

I feel maybe announcing loudly that you are the new Masters of Evil right in front of the Avengers is kind of jumping the gun.

Not to mention having the whole time show up to pose like a team just to pull Whirlwind’s butt out of the fire but like I said, this isn’t a very impressive seeming iteration of the Masters.

They do have this much, at least. Hawkeye recognizes each one of these bozos (muffled foghorns from Titan Up the Defense way) and recognizes that he and Wasp are outpowered in addition to being outnumbered.

Reinforced by Tiger Shark just smacking Wasp out of the air.

I think her one legged outfit is slowing her down.

So Hawkeye fires a flare arrow to try to summon help.

Remember when the Avengers had radio rings? That’d probably be a less obvious way to signal for help. Because Moonstone sees Hawkeye shoot a flare arrow that LIGHTS UP THE AREA and shoots him for sending up a signal.

And then she turns to the others and goes “Why didn’t you blunderers stop him?”

Its a good point. Tiger Shark points out though that she didn’t stop him either.

Again: not a very impressive iteration of the team.

Whirlwind, trying to put on the pragmatic hat way too late, says that they should kill Hawkeye and skedaddle because fighting in front of Avengers Mansion makes him nervous.

But he’s still Whirlwind so he’s still gross so he thinks to himself that he wants to grab Wasp before they go.

And what, dude? You gonna keep her under your bed? WHATS YOUR CREEPY ENDGAME?

On second thought, I don’t want to know. Geez, this is awful but I’m glad that Wasp died in Ultimate comics before an exceptionally creepy Ultimate Whirlwind could show up and keep her in a well or something.

Hey, maybe if we tell Whirlwind that Living Laser is also obsessed with Wasp, the two will fight to the death and I won’t have to deal with either one!

Anyway. Off-track. Anyway.

With a sound of thunder, a Perfectly Ordinary Uru Hammer THOOMs by smacking every villain before returning to Thor’s hand.

Yeah, fighting in front of Avengers Mansion? Really dumb!

Thor: “Stand back, perfidious mortals, or face the wrath of Thor!”

Wasp: “Huh? Thor! I always thought you were handsome -- but you never looked better than you do now!”

Thor: “Fair Wasp, thou art safe in my hands!”

Wasp: (Mmmm! Don’t I wish!)

Well, you’re free to play the field now, Wasp. Go for it.

Meanwhile, over in Avengers Mansion, She-Hulk hears the racket and gets up from her nap to see a supervillain battle taking place on the street in front of the Mansion and just kind of sighs about New York being like this.

Again again: fighting in front of Avengers Mansion? REALLY DUMB!

Moonstone even realizes it.

Moonstone: “This is insane -- wasting our energy battling the Avengers for nothing!  We’ve got to end this fight and escape!”

She tells Scorpion to take Thor which either shows a high esteem of him or a very low regard. Either way, Scorpion is happy to try, tail-whipping Thor through the air.

Inside the mansion, She-Hulk decides that the only way to get some peace and quiet is to throw hands. Side benefit: she’ll also get to prove herself to the Avengers.

But I like that the primary reason is that she just wants to have a dang nap and this nonsense is preventing it.

So she OH YEAHs through the window because heck Tony Stark will pay to fix it and runs towards the battle.

Haha look at that tiny alarmed Jarvis in the window. I love that kind of background detail. Amazing.

Wasp takes a break from, I dunno fantasizing about Thor, to fly over in a panic.

Wasp: “Oh, no! That outfit is an original! Tear it -- and I’ll never speak to you again!”

She sure has her priorities. I think maybe she doesn’t think these new Masters of Evil are all that threatening.

Maybe she shouldn’t be so worried though. She-Hulk just jumped through a glass window and the outfit looks untouched.

She-Hulk: “You can’t be serious?! You are. Ohhh... fudge! This is ridiculous!”

She definitely had to stop herself from saying an f-bomb.

So She-Hulk stops running to help Thor and sits down to start pulling the Van Dyne Original outfit off so Wasp won’t friend break up with her.

I’m sure Thor is doing fine though.

Ha ha, just kidding.

Moondragon is keeping him pinned down with her laser blasts and Tiger Shark hits him with something almost as powerful as TABLE.

A CAR.

Tiger Shark: “That Avenger creep thinks he’s the strongest there is. Me, I can withstand the pressures of the ocean’s floor without breathing hard. So when you’re talking strength -- you’re talking Tiger Shark!”

Hey, cool! Its the same thing writers use to argue Aquaman Strong Actually. I wonder if this actually predates that. It’d be funny if Tiger Shark preempted Aquaman in anything.

Wasp (while blasting Scorpion in his Scorpion neck) asks Thor if he’s okay but I think Thor is more annoyed than endangered by being ganged up on by the villains.

Thor: “Aye, the villain’s cowardly attack availed him naught against the might of Thor! I would see this battle ended!”

Tiger Shark basically says ‘nuh uh’ or “Together we can turn him into hamburger!” but then someone punches Tiger Shark from behind and knocks him out.

Scorpion: “Who in -- ? Some chick from Frederick’s of Hollywood?”

She-Hulk: “Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am! I don’t want to hear it!”

So, yeah, She-Hulk has arrived. In her underwear. So she doesn’t offend Wasp.

I guess after the Moondragon arc, Wasp is paying forward the wardrobe embarrassments.

Very rude, Jan.

Hawkeye is also up and raring to arrow. And he nails Whirlwind with said shock arrow annnd knocks him out.

Yup, this is the part of the book where we’re running out of pages so the villains start going down really easy.

Next, Wasp shoots Moonstone and She-Hulk multi-tasks by punching Moonstone into Scorpion and knocking both of them out.

Which means that She-Hulk is MVP of this fight. She arrives the latest but knocks out the most people. Good job, She-Hulk. Even Hawkeye admits that she did pretty good (qualified with “for a beginner!” which She-Hulk just laughs off.)

Meanwhile, in his hidden laboratory, Egghead is thinking that you can’t get good help these days.

Egghead: “Fools! We would have destroyed the Avengers eventually! There was no need to upset my timetable!”

But its only a minor setback and he considers that this stomp may leave them more willing to see that his ideas are best ideas.

I really hope that everyone pins the blame on Whirlwind when Egghead inevitably has to break them out of prison again to assemble his Masters of Evil again.

Hm, and I didn’t wonder this before but why Masters of Evil as a team name? He has no connection with any of the previous iterations, I don’t think. Weird.

Back at the mansion, the Avengers stand around being pretty pleased with themselves for beating up a bunch of people who attacked them for no reason and sucked at it.

The only sour note is that Wasp lost yet another limo (to Tiger Shark’s deadly CAR attack) but even then she says she was ready to trade it in on a DeLorean anyway.

Wait, aren’t DeLoreans known for having disappointing performance for a car and adequate performance as a time machine? Wasp, why are you getting a DeLorean, you kook!

She-Hulk, who sold her dignity to keep Jan’s friendship, suggests that the two of them go looking for new cars together.

OH RIGHT. Issue started with She-Hulk’s poor lamented pink Cadillac being junked. That’s bookends, it is. They’re the Sisterhood of the Broken Cars now.

So a very decent story!

Stuff is being setup with Egghead, the Hank Pym plot thread is still going, and we’ve got a new Avengers roster to settle into.

Although. Between the Moondragon arc and this, I’m wondering if clothing mishaps is going to be a running joke going forward and I hope not. Or at least let the guys in on it. Let Thor get locked out of the house in his underwear. It is only fair.

To the readers, if not the characters.

Although, I guess that is kind of what happened in the Molecule Man story. Tony Stark stuck in only his underwear and had to wear Ordinary Doctor Donald Blake’s jacket around his waist.

Not much more to say about this. Its a solid issue.

Follow @essential-avengers​. Because: reasons. Also like and reblog. Because: similar but different reasons. Selling myself is hard.

[uni-life-tips]

5 Tips for your 1st Job

I've beening a lot of posts about people gushing about landing their first ever job or mentioning how badly their legs ache from work and all that. I got a few things to put out there after seeing all that.

1) Congrats on landing a job--regardless if it's your 1st or your 30th or whatever. Regardless of whatever job it is, you've got something to be proud of. It's hard to find work nowadays and a lot of good people are struggling to make ends meet and remain employed with economies the way they are now. Ultimately, having a source of income--especially a steady and dependable one--for any period of time is an amazing feeling. Be proud of yourself and don't let anyone bring you down if they try to make you feel bad with phrases like 'under-employed', 'minimum wage', 'blue-collar work', or 'part-time' or whatever. If you've got a steady source of income for the foreseeable future that's something to be proud of right now and don't let anyone bring you down for it. It doesn't matter if they make more than you or have a 'career' or even if they're your role model. They're not you, they're not living in your shoes--and they have no right to judge or snub their noses at whatever it is you do.

2) Almost hand-in-hand with the above...take pride in your job--whatever it is. Please be accountable and make it a priority in your life. Skipping work 'cuz you don't like wherever you're stationed to work or because you'd rather be doing other stuff isn't cool. Your co-workers are going to have to pay for that sort of decision. Someone is going to be called in or have to stay longer to cover your shift. That means that someone's plan to sleep-in or cook a decent meal or go on a date will be ruined if you decide to play hooky. Even if you're doing it to spite a less-than-desirable manager please know that you're hurting your fellow employee with this sort of behavior--the manager isn't going to be as hurt by your actions as you think they're going to be. Show up on-time or at least give ample notice if/when you need to ditch (unless it's an emergency). Please be kind to your co-workers. It's much more enjoyable for everyone if you can chat and joke around with your co-workers instead of sullen silence or acting all cut-throat or whatever. Gossiping about each other is also in poor taste. You don't have to be buddy-buddy with your co-workers...but if you're on-shift together then at least be civil if not friendly.

3) About aching feet/legs...it usually comes with the territory if you're working retail or fast-food or anything else that requires you to stand and/or walk around all day. See if your employer can get better mats for the workspace. I've found that the thick ones with holes in them are head-and-shoulders above the solid-black flat ones...if that makes sense. Also, invest in shoe-inserts for comfort. They're kind of pricey but not having sore heels is definitely worth an hour or three of my paycheck...I think. I'd suggest not buying the cheap ones or the ones that only cover half the sole...get the full-sole insert 'cuz the smaller/shorter ones are going to slide around and make things worse. Also, cheaper ones wear out faster or otherwise end up really uncomfortable. Make sure you are wearing shoes that fit if you want to avoid blisters. When resting (on-break, or sleeping) try to elevate your feet. When I started my first retail job I found that sleeping with my feet propped up on some rolled up blankets/pillows gave me immense relief in the morning. Soaking your legs/feet in hot water is also a good way for some relief. And using a pumice stone for skin build-up is heavenly. Seriously, pamper your feet. Along the same lines, if your job is the type that requires a lot of sitting and inactivity, remember to stretch. I know more than enough people with major back problems because they sit for 5+ hours a day. Seriously--set an alarm to go off on your phone every hour as a reminder to stand up and stretch properly before continuing your work. No amount of pay or “work ethic recognition” is worth the chronic aches and pains that come with the job. Prevent back problems and don’t bank on the whole “eh, I’ll just find a good chiropractor”--3 minutes of stretching and moving about every hour will save you a bunch of money, a bunch of time, and a heck of a lot of pain and grief.

4) Know your rights. The government in your area should have a worker/employer rights and obligations thing. Read up on that. It often includes things like how many minutes of rest (breaks) are required for how many hours of work. E.g. Lets say you have an 8 hour shift and your manager makes you go on your break 2 hours into the shift...that would mean you're working for another 5.5-6 hours after your break. Check your worker's rights--it's possible that legally, you're entitled to some form of break for every 4 straight hours of work. Decide for yourself if you're going to bring up such things with your manager(s) if conflicts arise.

5) Track your hours. I can't stress this one enough. Don't just assume that your workplace/manager(s) are good people that will always give you your full pay every pay-period. Me and my friends have experienced many pay-periods where we were short-changed on pay. We track our hours--we know exactly how many hours and dollars should be recorded on our paystub/paycheck. Check and compare. Invest in some sort of calendar where you can record your hours worked and know the exact number of hours/pay you are expecting each pay-period. A lot of the time, it’s an accident. The manager mis-counted or forgot that we took on an extra shift within that pay-period. Often times, it’s an honest mistake...but be wary about managers that seem to make these mistakes often, or the ones that will cut your hours as ‘punishment’ for confronting them about the short-change. You are entitled to your pay. Even if you love your job, it’s still a job and you deserve to be paid for every hour you put in.

[wunderlass]

Time of Your Life

For Candy & Milkshakes, though angstier than this event was meant to be. Hastily betaed by @queenrikki - my haste, not hers.

It’s a good day in a long string of good days. Truth be told, Max Evans doesn’t have bad days.

The afternoon sun has burned the fog away from San Francisco Bay, so when he sits out on his apartment balcony with his notepad and mug of tea there’s a blue sky overhead and a distant view of the hills rising up behind Sausalito. One day they might be able to afford a better view—actual water, or the San Francisco shoreline—but then Liz always teases that they need to move to Poet’s Corner, where the houses are low and trees obscure the view. 

She knows Max’s dream is to live in a Victorian, and they’ll probably have to leave Berkeley to get it. It’s another thing she teases him about: like him writing by hand instead of on a laptop. She calls him her old-fashioned gentlemen, but he’s learned how to ballroom dance with her so it seems to be old-fashioned in a way she likes.

He can take her teasing with ease. Anything to bring a smile to her face, to coax sparkling laughter from her like champagne.

This balcony has turned out to be a productive area for him. He’s written two novels on it since they moved in, and sold one of them. He’s not setting the bestseller’s list alight but it’s a steady income to supplement Liz’s paycheck, especially with how simply they live. It goes a long way at the farmer’s market, where he heads in the morning to pick up produce for dinner. Liz likes to refer to him as her house husband, with the way he does all the cooking and taking care of the apartment, though she glows with pride whenever she reads the reviews for his books.

He’s not capturing the feeling of home in his writing he’s been striving to since he was a teenager. But he’s working on it. The day he can say he’s been able to suspend how he feels about Liz in ink is the day he’ll have succeeded. For now, he keeps trying, pushing his characters through tests and troubles he’s never really faced in his life, leaving them chasing the home he managed to secure for himself so long ago.

His mug is empty, so he heads inside to set the kettle boiling for a refill. A pot of chili simmers away on the stove—his father-in-law’s recipe, solemnly handed over on their wedding day. Arturo had been worried that with them being so young when they married, they weren’t capable of taking care of themselves or each other. This was his way of making sure Liz didn’t starve while they tried to live on student grants, barista wages, and the occasional sale of a poem. Max had gradually persuaded Arturo to hand over many recipes in the decade since, but this remains a staple. 

Even if it’s far smaller than what they could afford back in Roswell, Max likes their apartment. Sure, it’s a 1950’s box, but the balcony makes up for the lack of indoor charm. Liz is all the charm he needs. He’s lined the walls in cheap IKEA bookcases, all of them filled to the brim and overflowing, and it feels all the cozier for it. They don’t need more than they have, and he’d rather spend their money on the things that count. Things like traveling: where books haven’t swallowed wall space, Liz has insisted on photo frames of their adventures, right back to that original road trip after senior year. Six weeks across the US, cataloged through Polaroids and an old disposable film camera, followed by other journeys: Canada, Mexico, Europe. 

Liz’s face smiles at him from one the of Polaroid images, right next to his own, her arms curled around him with the Grand Canyon in the background. It was when he’d first started trying to grow out facial hair, abandoning his razor when they left Roswell behind, and the fuzzy results made him cringe when he looked back at them, but Liz loves this photo. It had been the first one taken after he told her the truth: who he really was.

She’d accepted him, no questions. Well…there had been many questions, but that was Liz, rattling them off a million miles an hour trying to understand his physiology. None of his answers changed how she felt about him. Nor did they stop her accepting his spur-of-the-moment proposal on their way back to Roswell at the end of summer.

Nobody had approved—Rosa was the most vocal opponent, but even she’d come to the wedding in the end.  Approval didn’t matter. Max had loved Liz his entire life and would love her forever. And because of that time he’d got a little carried away and accidentally forged a handprint bond with her when they were first becoming intimate, he knew she felt the same way. 

Their wedding photo takes pride of place over the fireplace. Maria Deluca took it, by way of a gift. Rosa found Liz a vintage beaded gown in a thrift store, an ivory that goes so well with her skin tone. She doesn’t wear a veil and her hair is in a simple twist, curls escaping from it to frame her face and neck. Next to her, Max is in a borrowed grey suit, his hair much shorter than he wears it nowadays, slicked back with gel and hope. His facial hair had grown in enough by that point that it didn’t look like the desperate attempts of a teenage boy, though to his own eyes now he looks drowned in the suit. Doesn’t matter. What’s clear from the photo is how happy they both were. That hasn’t diminished at all; not through three degrees, six half-drafted novels, and eighteen countries.

The kettle comes to a rolling boil and clicks off. Max goes through the motions of brewing his tea. This break has really been to allow his mind to work through a sticky plot point, one that wouldn’t be solved staring at a blank page.

A comment by a reviewer in a prestigious newspaper column recently suggested that Max’s writing is callow because he gives his character happy endings. He doesn’t see the problem—why take readers on a journey alongside characters, have them grow to love them like friends, and reward them with nothing at the end of it? Liz told him to pay the review no mind and to write what he wants. But this time, he’s been contemplating ending on a tragic note. What if there is no happy ending to be found? If he wants to be one of the greats, maybe he needs to consider showing that sometimes struggles are futile.

The break has cleared his mind. That’s not the right path at all. He writes to give people hope. He writes, however unsuccessfully, to provide a lifeline to people who need it, a shining beacon of everything that life, love and happiness can be.

On that note, he hears the turn of the key in the door. His own shining beacon is home.

~

The morning birds wake him, their timing ever cruel. The moment before he’d see Liz again.

In truth, Max doesn’t know what Liz Ortecho looks like anymore. He carries the memory of her face in crystal clarity within his minds’ eye, but that’s the face of a teenage girl who left Roswell ten years ago and never looked back. What changes time has brought to her, Max doesn’t know. Social media has its temptations but he’s resisted them, in the knowledge that he doesn’t have the right to seek her out.

Not when the memory of her face is tangled up in the blank face of her sister, twisted together by his own guilt.

Despite this, in his dreams he’s begun seeing a Liz that doesn’t exist, living a life with a version of himself that doesn’t exist either. A simple, happy life, the kind of life Max hoped for as a foolish teenager. Where his dreams have always been vague jumbles of shapes and sound, fleeting with the morning, over the last few weeks they’ve become sharp and clear. 

He sees Liz, in the kind of detail he never thought himself capable of imagining. He watches them share a life: he’s been able to do more than look at her at night, sharing casual, affectionate touches, kisses and caresses. Tumble into bed with her with all the accrued intimacy of a decade together, knowing her body as well as his own.

Other details linger from his dreams, making them feel as tangible as the real world. He knows how the pot of chili is going to taste. He’s never been to California, or seen the ocean, but somehow he’s able to construct an entire cityscape from nothing, the memory of salt and fog on his skin and in his lungs. If he was still writing his imagination’s sudden uptick in activity would be a boon, but he hasn’t felt the urge to put pen to paper for months.

He should be asking the question why now?, but he knows why. This is a fresh form of his guilt, tormenting him with what might have been. A decade ago they’d been making plans to leave Roswell together and go on that roadtrip. This is his imagination throwing in his face all that might have been, with barely over a month to go until the anniversary of that night.

He wants to return to sleep, hoping that even if time has moved on in that other world, he’ll still be mid-kiss with Liz. It’s another way his imagination is excelling itself in fleshing out the details of how she feels, tastes, of the noises she makes. And because he wants it so badly, he’s locked out, condemned to wakefulness.

Instead he gives up, getting up and going through the motions of another day.

Those motions bring him to the Crashdown at lunchtime, nursing a coffee he won’t drink. Arturo is too busy to talk to, but Max won’t ask about Liz this time. The words feel too heavy when it’s so close to that day.  

He doesn’t order any food but he swears he can taste chili as he leaves. He wonders if Arturo would have been the amenable father-in-law he seems to be during the night.

All Max wants is to make it through the day until he is tired enough to go home and sleep. He doesn’t want to have to wear the mask that helps him pretend he is fine. And yet, here Isobel is outside the Crashdown, making a beeline for him.

The mask goes on. He wonders if she will ever notice.

“That’s weird,” Isobel says as she approaches. “I haven’t been here in ages, but today of all days…” She drifts off, shakes her head.

“What do you want, Isobel?” He sounds as tired as he feels, even to his own ears.

“Lovely to see you too. Maybe I just wanted to say hello to my brother in passing since he never seems to go anywhere or do anything these days?”

Max flinches. He’s been going out less and less, turning down the invitations he’s always accepted out of obligation, out of the need to pretend that his world hasn’t shrunk to a little patch of gray disinterest. “I’ve been busy.”

“No you haven’t. And I need your help as a volunteer to decorate the school reunion.”

Now Max really regrets getting out of bed. “I don’t remember volunteering.”

“I’m organizing it, of course you’re helping me.” But she’s distracted, her gaze flicking back to the Crashdown behind him. She absently plays with the wedding band on her finger. He’s never seen her do that before. “Do you remember Liz Ortecho?”

Max stiffens. He hasn’t mentioned her name in years. Isobel definitely hasn’t. “Of course I do,” he says between gritted teeth.

“I had the weirdest dream a few nights ago. She was in it.” Max doesn’t ask for more details, but Isobel volunteers them anyway. “I wasn’t married, but you were. To her.”

Max holds his breath.

“It was so vivid,” she continues. “Like, you weren’t even here in Roswell anymore, but I was. Alone. I didn’t like it.” She shakes her head, as if shaking the feeling away. “As if you’d ever abandon me like that.” She smiles at him and it’s all he can do to force a smile in return.

She’s right. He wouldn’t. Even if it meant giving up Liz.

When he continues on his way, climbing into his cruiser for an uneventful tour of the city, he isn’t unduly concerned about the similarity of his dream to Isobel’s. If it was anyone else, sure, but they have the twin connection. They’ve never spoken about their dreams before, but is it so strange for their dreams to blend together at night?

This new dimension should make him feel guilty. In this dream reality he is forcing Isobel to be lonely, abandoned in Roswell—though why his imagination doesn’t have her finding Noah, he doesn’t know. But these are only dreams. In the daylight, she has Noah. She has Max and Michael, and she is loved. Max doesn’t have that.

If he has to chase it at twilight, he will, Isobel be damned.

~

There are no bookshelves in the bedroom. Liz’s rule, although it doesn’t stop Max’s nightstand being stacked with a precarious pile of them, each bisected by receipts and ticket stubs and whatever else was to hand when he needed a bookmark. Liz’s nightstand is neater, even if it’s not exactly neat: she has her own disheveled collection of papers; the case for her mouthguard; baby wipes; lube.

He’s propped up against the headboard reading while she brushes her teeth in the en-suite. He gets glimpses of her as she paces: hair tied up in a loose bun, a camisole and pajama pants that speak more to comfort than enticing him. Not that it takes much to entice him, and knowing Liz is comfortable around him only adds to that effect.

He waits for her to finish spitting and rinsing, flicking off the overhead light so she’s lit only by the glow of the bedside lamp. She clambers into the bed beside him, burrows into his side. He can read like this, with her head resting on his shoulder, as they first discovered on the senior year road trip. Something about him being awake and reading helps soothe her to sleep. They’ve never figured out why, but it’s the same for Max, who struggles to sleep any other way these days. The times she’s gone off to conferences to present her research, he’s had to return to Roswell to spend time with Isobel, because being alone in their home without Liz’s presence is the opposite of soothing. They have a rhythm and being without her throws it off.

“Max,” Liz murmurs into his chest.

Evidently tonight she doesn’t intend on going straight to sleep.

“Hmmm?” He closes his book, marking his place with a fridge magnet they bought in Mexico City, and places it on the nightstand.

“Do you ever wonder about starting a family?”

She must be able to hear his heart pounding. He’s wondered. Of course he’s wondered. 

“We don’t know if that’s possible,” he says gently. It’s why he’s never dared raise the subject before.

“I think it’ll work,” she replies, raising her head so she’s looking at him. Big brown eyes, glowing in the lamplight. “I’ve looked at our DNA and there’s no reason to think it won’t.”

He chuckles. He can’t help it; of course Liz has done the research before coming to him. “Is that so?”

“I think if we can conceive, then the pregnancy should be viable. Conceiving may be the hardest part.” Her expression turns playful. “But also the most fun.”

He can’t argue with that.

~

Max’s mood is more sour than usual. He’s felt fragile since he woke up, like he’s on the verge of a meltdown: he doesn’t know if he wants to cry, or throw things, but being around his brother isn’t the best way to find out which it will be.

If only he’d not been taking the first step towards creating a family with Liz when he woke up.

Michael hasn’t been arrested for a few weeks and it’s making Max concerned. Even Isobel has commented that he seems to be preoccupied, going to the Pony less (because it turns out Isobel keeps tabs on Michael too). 

When he emerges, it’s not as bad as it could be. He’s not in the drunk tank. He isn’t being ticketed. No, he seeks Max out, something that hasn’t happened in years.

His voluntary presence in the sheriff’s office draws stares from everyone when he saunters past the front desk. 

“You don’t have any outstanding warrants,” Max tells him when Michael reaches his desk.

“I know. If I did, I wouldn’t be here,” Michael replies, like he’s talking to an idiot.

“Then why are you here?”

Cam’s out patrolling and the Sheriff is in her personal office so they actually have privacy. Nevertheless, Michael lowers his voice to barely above a whisper.

“You wouldn’t happen to have been having weird dreams?”

The pencil in Max’s hand snaps in two.

“What have you done?”

~

Liz is sleeping in this morning. It’s the weekend and without an alarm set, she will doze for hours. It’s always tempting to stay curled up with her, but Max gets restless too easily, so he’s up making pancakes. Hopefully the smell will entice Liz to emerge from her cocoon.

He plates up and sits himself down at their tiny dining table. It’s next to the kitchen wall, right below a set of photos from their youths: Liz and Rosa’s quinceaneras, Max and Isobel with the family dog, Max and Isobel and Michael out in the desert the year before they graduated high school. Michael has a guitar in his hand and a smile on his face. It’s a rare photo of him, and a rare example of him smiling. Possibly the last time Max ever saw him this way.

All Max knows is that something happened to Michael at the end of high school, something that left his hand mangled and his hope in tatters. He turned his back on humanity, preaching to his siblings that there was nothing good to be found on Earth, and sought comfort at the bottom of bottles of whiskey and acetone. The two only seemed to curdle his bitterness and there was nothing Max could do or say to reach him. No, Michael had taken Max’s happiness with Liz as a personal affront and walked away from him.

Max hasn’t seen Michael for a few years: not since he was arrested for credit card fraud. The charges were shaky but Michael had nobody to bail him out or pay for a decent lawyer, so off to the state penitentiary he went. Isobel visits him in there sometimes, but Max isn’t welcome. Michael’s sentence keeps getting extended because he can’t stay out of fights, though he’s managed to evade suspicion of being an alien. Probably because people don’t know he’s from Roswell and don’t associate him with the legend. 

Liz pads into the living room wearing one of Max’s t-shirts, which hits her at mid-thigh. “Those smell amazing.”

She hasn’t brushed her teeth yet so kisses his forehead rather than his mouth, not that Max cares. She grabs her plate and sits opposite him, digging in with relish.

“I’ve been thinking,” he ventures. “We could get a dog. You know, if the baby thing doesn’t work out. I know it’s not the same, but a dog would be nice.”

Max likes dogs, and they always like him. He thinks he wants a dog even if the baby thing does work out.

Liz smiles sympathetically and covers her hand with her own. “It’s going to work out. One way or the other.”

~

“What do you mean ‘alternate universe’?”

Michael sighs. “It’s complicated if you aren’t already into multiverse theory and—” 

“I don’t need the physics explaining to me,” Max cuts in. “I need you to explain why you think I’m experiencing one when I sleep.”

Michael holds his hands up sheepishly. “So I may have been collecting spaceship pieces in my trailer, and I may have recently been experimenting a little with quantum mechanics using subpar equipment.”

“In your airstream.”

“Yeah.”

“And you started having these dreams yourself?”

Michael shoves his hands into his pockets. “Can’t say they were much fun.”

“No. You’re in prison there.”

“Anyway, I’m working on untangling it all so it’ll go back to normal real soon.”

That’s the last thing Max wants. “No,” he says, too sharply and too quickly. Michael’s puzzled frown demands more of a response. “No more experimenting. If this is bad as it gets, I can live with it. I don’t want you making it worse.”

Nor does he want his nights with Liz snatched away from him. Not now he knows how real they are. It’s not his reality, but it’s one he’ll willingly disappear into for as long as he can.

“I know what I’m doing,” Michael protests.

“Clearly you don’t. Leave it alone.”

All Max needs is time. Time with Liz. Time in the life he should have had.

~

Max hasn’t felt the twin connection to Isobel for years. Somewhere along the way they’d stopped using it, long before Max left Roswell.

It comes screaming back at the most inconvenient time. Liz is unwrapping a trio of pregnancy tests, ready to find out if their first month of baby-making was successful or not.

And Max is on his knees, groaning with the surge of pain that runs through his head.

Liz is in front of him immediately. “Max! Max, are you okay?”

“Isobel,” he pants out, and Liz scrambles for the phone, dialing his parents.

It doesn’t take long to get an answer. Isobel has been hospitalized. It’s unclear why: his mother is hysterical, in a way he’s never heard her become. But Max is booking flights back to Roswell, ready to find out what’s going on. 

Liz can’t come with him. She has to stay and work—her project is at a delicate stage.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he tells her.

“I won’t use the tests until you return,” she promises.

~

Isobel is waiting for him outside the Crashdown. There are dark circles under her eyes and she holds her left hand like it’s heavy, rubbing at her wedding ring.

“Did you see it?” she asks. “When you were dreaming?”

“What happened?” When he woke up, he was still on his way to Roswell, having only just said goodbye to Liz.

“I couldn’t bear it,” she says. “No Noah, no Michael, no you. What a horrible reality.”

Max can’t agree. “So the other Isobel—”

“It wasn’t the other Isobel. It was me. She put a mask on her loneliness and went on like it wasn’t killing her, so I made her do something about it. To bring you back.”

He staggers back, as if she’s actually punched him rather than done it verbally. “What?” He shakes his head. “We can’t influence—”

Isobel squares her shoulder. “I can. My powers are mental. I found a way.”

How does Max even begin to explain what Isobel is interrupting? “That’s not our world, Isobel. We have different lives—we can’t interfere in them. You have a good life here. You should focus on that.”

“What good does that do me if the other one haunts me when I’m awake?”

“How can you say that? We aren’t killers in that reality. Isn’t that better?”

He’s never been able to figure out why, what the little differences were that made all the difference. No camping trip when they were fourteen meant Isobel didn’t have blackouts, and for some reason that meant Rosa Ortecho never died. Isobel’s loneliness seems like a small price to pay for that, compared to a universe where Max is a killer and still has to bear his guilt alone.

“No,” Isobel insists. “I hate it. If I have to keep going back there, I’m going to do everything I can to keep you in Roswell with me. Even if I have to get inside your head and make you stay. I can’t cope alone, Max. Not when I know what I could have had.”

~

“Isobel’s okay,” Max says to Liz down the phone. “Sedated. She didn’t mean to harm herself, they think it was accidental.”

“That’s good. Though she can’t have been doing all that well—”

“No, I know. Mom and dad haven’t noticed anything, but…” It’s Isobel, and it’s his mother. Neither are very emotionally available people.

“Stay as long as she needs you,” Liz urges.

“I need you.”

“I need you too. But you’ve always been good about me running off to help Rosa. It’s your turn.”

~

Max knows what he needs to do, for the sake of the other Max. But even hearing her voice over the phone is like a hit of opium. As much as the other Max relishes any form of contact with his Liz, it’s nothing to what Max feels in this reality. He’s been denied her for years and every morsel, every scrap she throws his way, is a slow drip of what he needs through his veins.

How can he give her up?

~

Isobel isn’t responsive in the hospital. He sits with her a while, holds her hand, strokes her hair, but she doesn’t wake up.

Does she dream of her life in the other Roswell, where she has a husband and her family around her?

~

Seeing Isobel persuades him. In both realities she’s not in a good way, and only one person seems to know how to fix it. 

Michael is hard to pin down, even if he supposedly lives and works in the same place, so Max leaves him a voicemail.

“Do what you need to do to make the dreams stop, Michael. For Isobel’s sake.”

~

“Max?” Liz’s voice is soft, happy. “I know I said I wouldn’t use the tests—and I haven’t!—but you should know I’ve been feeling kind of nauseated today. And yesterday. And the day before that.”

“And you’re excited about that?” he teases, but he can feel a bubble of happiness rising within his own chest. “Isn’t it a little early—”

“Not necessarily.”

He pauses. “Take the test, Liz. There’s no point waiting until I come home.”

“Okay. I’ll call you back when I know.”

It feels wrong, sitting outside Isobel’s room, almost vibrating with happiness, but he can’t help it. He has a good feeling about this.

~

He’s wrenched awake. It’s the middle of the night and there’s no reason for him to be awake, but he is, and he feels adrift, like he’s been cut off from something.

His phone blinks on the nightstand. A message from Michael.

Fixed it.

Liz is gone. The other universe is lost to him.

~

He hadn’t thought it possible for this universe to feel more barren to him until this morning. The desert dust is ash under his boots, the rolling emptiness around his home a valid reflection of what he feels inside.

He’s on a later shift, doing traffic stops on the highway, and he knows despite the Sheriff’s best efforts they’ll probably have unwelcome company park up with them. First, he has to go to the warehouse the school reunion is being held in and lug boxes and tables around for Isobel.

Her dark circles are gone. The spring in her step has returned. 

He made the right choice.

Later, on the dark highway armed with a torch and his weariness, he indicates for a car with Colorado plates and a broken light to pull over. Gets hit with a mouthful of fire.

And then there she is.

“Liz.”

[o-flynn-o]

Guiding Light

Guiding Light -A survival manual My pastor said that my story may very well be a survival manual for someone else. Another thing that was said, is that I've been assigned this mountain to show others it can be moved.

”Truly I tell you, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” Matthew 17:20

So I'm writing this to share with you and hopefully it will help you overcome the obstacles in your life.

One of the stories that comes to mind is about climbing a tree. In it is a simple and effective message.

When my mom was young, a stubborn sassy little girl, she decided to climb a tree out in the yard. She had accomplished scaling this big tree, nothing among her thoughts about climbing back down. So she sat on one of the branches, stuck. It was close enough to the house for my grandma to hear her hollering for help. Her mom, of course, comes running to help. She sees the predicament her daughter had gotten into and realizes there's no real way for her to help. Then she says, "I'm sorry hun there's nothing I can do. You found a way to get up there. You're going to have to find a way to get down."

___________ Objective: Survive-

Being at the bottom of the barrel going through the motions of a usual day. I caught myself on a thought. It kind of hovered in my mind for a minute, the thought of getting a new car. It was a surprise what a happy thought it was even for just a short moment. Then I realised, I forgot what it was like to want things. Just to want normal good things for my life. It's been 10 years since I've owned my own car.

After being down in this dark, sad, confusing, broken place so long. I forgot it was okay to want more and to do better. Being down in that place mentally, emotionally, and financially. You just go into "survival mode". You live every day, week after week, to just get by or make it somehow.

__________

Get up and try again. Get up and try again.-

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, "I'll try again tomorrow."

There is a way out. I just want to say that a hundred hundred times, there is a way out. Reaffirming that for you over and over so it gets down in your heart and sparks something.

There is a way out. Even if it's one baby step at a time. It's okay to fail in that too, but just keep coming back to that starting point and try again. Try to go further than you did before, just keep trying.

I've had to do the same thing. Dealing with failure and falling back down into it. There were days I didn't think I was going to make it. There were days I felt like giving up.

There were days I felt like giving in and accepting that this is my life. Wondering if it would ever get better.

Coming back around to "There is a way out." There has been one absolute constant through this situation. There has been one thing and one Person that has kept me from being completely destroyed. That Person is God and that thing is my relationship with Him.

Later in this I mention how I didn't feel like I could talk to anyone about all this. But I was able to talk to Him. My Heavenly Father was right there with me from day one. This whole time, not once did He leave my side.

Being able to talk to Him and go to Him in prayer in my desperation, doing those bad things, feeling lost, a complete vulnerable mess... That kept me. That saved me so many times. He saved me.

I prayed and talked to Him so many times:

"Heavenly Father,

Thank you Lord for this day. Thank you Lord for my life. Thank you for Your presence with me and in my life. Thank you Lord for keeping me and that I'm still here.

I wanted to come to you Father and ask that You help me think about this and to feel about this the way I need to. Lord that I would be able to perceive and think the way I need to, to get out of this.

I know this life that you've given me is a blessing and I thank you Lord for it. I want to honor that and to honor you. I want to be in that posture and action of gratefulness, taking better care of myself and my life.

Being in this place in my life hurts. Everything hurts. I'm confused in my head and my feelings. I don't know what to do. Please Heavenly Father, help me. I know I'm not supposed to be here. I know that You've planned better for me. That You've planned to "give me hope and a future". This place doesn't feel like that. Heavenly Father, what do I do? How can I take the steps to correct what I've gotten myself into.

I pray Lord that You would deliver me out of this. Lord that You would deliver me from these habits and these cravings.

I'm praying and asking also Lord that You would deliver me from situations and people that would keep me in this lifestyle.

Thank You, Heavenly Father that I can come to You. Thank You Lord for being my councilor and friend. Thank You Lord for comforting me and covering me when I'm hurting. Thank You, Lord for not leaving me or forsaking me. Thank You, Lord for being a good Father. Thank You, Lord for answered prayer. I give You thanks and praise. Praise Your holy name.

In Jesus precious name I pray, amen."

He did, He answered. He lifted me out and lifted all that stuff up off of me. I was sober for three months for the first time in about seven years.

Then I decided to have drinks with friends. I failed at staying sober. I've had to pray over this many times. It had been a battle for the better part of a decade.

I will also stress how important it is you surround yourself with the right people. This is your choice that you've made. Not everyone will respect that. Not everyone will be good for you to be around while you're fighting to change and fighting to change your life.  

__________

My heart was sick-

One of my worst points, I had not been sober for one day in a whole year. I didn't want to eat. I would go through days without taking a shower. I spent most of my days in bed running from the pain by being unconscious. I'd only be awake for "happy hour" which was a distraction so I didn't have to be alone with my thoughts. Once it came to the point where everything was empty and listless I'd drink just to try to feel something. Even the things I used to love and have a white hot passion for that had lost almost all of it's savor. I wasn't living anymore, I was just existing in this strange state.

The thing that set this off, was one but many, it was my life. How I had pictured my life. And how it didn't turn out like that picture or those goals and dreams I had. I felt like a failure. I had failed and faced rejection before that many times too.

…"hope deferred makes the heart sick" I had been disappointed by life so many times. I also had to step back and realize and admit to myself; I have also disappointed myself many times.

__________

-"Yes, there may be intimidating uncertainty and pain. You're already facing that everyday, so what's wrong with turning toward better possibilities and a better life?"-

Going back to, "Wondering if it would ever get better" or "accepting this as my reality".  It also includes the poverty mentality and "survival mode". That you just live everyday and accept the pain and the level you're living on.

Accepting the pain of continuing to make the same choices that keep you in the same lifestyle. Facing the same problems day after day; or look outside of your circumstances to what is possible. Yes, there may be intimidating uncertainty and pain. You're already facing that everyday, so what's wrong with turning toward better possibilities and a better life?

That is something that's been present from when I was younger; Looking outside of my situation and my circumstances. Looking outside of the poverty I had to live in. Seeing people who were living in success and happiness. You know, much more satisfied with their quality of life. Seeing people who were living different made me ask, "Why can't I have that too?"

So I stepped out to do just that. I wanted to make different decisions and take different actions so that I could have that good outcome.

Sure it wasn't easy. I had to work to get it. But it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be in most parts of the process. Taking the chance, making the changes, was entirely worth it.

_________ The silent scream- Waking up in the same day over and over. In pain, hungover, and fatigued. I remembered thinking, as soon as I opened my eyes, "I don't wanna do this any more." Literally feeling like I'd been in a bar brawl the night before, though I had not.

Then it would come to "happy hour" and as I lifted the bottle to my lips anticipating the searing sensation of the vodka in my throat; inside I'd say, "I don't wanna do this any more."

Eventually it became a desperate weeping internal scream. Calling for someone to help me.

I just sat in it for years. This internal turmoil. I didn't feel like I could talk to anyone about it for a multitude of reasons. Reasons all the way from, they already have too much on their own plate, to, even if I did talk to them about it what good would it do; would I really get the help I needed.

Even though I had the problem even though I had the addiction and a hard habit to break; I wanted out.

I remembered what my life was like before alcohol. I remembered I could live without it. And not just live without it I was doing quite well.

"Doing well" for me was coming from a childhood where we would go through bouts of running out of food and toilet paper. We would miss payments on bills. It came to getting things turned off and stopping of services we couldn't pay for. We lived from first of the month to first of the month. Surviving from paycheck to paycheck. Coming from that going to: Having a steady job, maintaining my bills on time all the time. Having my own phone, internet service, car and insurance, budget for food and fuel, paying on student loans, and actually having a good start on my first savings account.

Alcoholism, life dealing me some hard blows, and, yes, admitting that I had also made some bad life choices. This had now lead me to a place where I was unemployed, basically penniless, and mentally and emotionally torn apart.

_______

The firewall-

I felt like there was this invisible wall I was headed toward periodically throughout this. Like there was some kind of count down as I approached. It had a threatening feeling like if I made it to that day or place in time, that, that would be it. That my life would end or just be game over. But it wasn't. God kept waking me up each day and it continued on in spite of what I thought or what I was afraid of.

I kept repeating in my thoughts, "I don't wanna be here anymore." "I don't want to be in this place anymore." My thoughts often drifted down into that dark of wanting to give in and take my own life.

And I sat with that. For months. For years. Not running from it, not giving into that temptation. I sat in it.

It was often the thought and feeling that I owed God more than that. Making myself remember the good times. That this life is a gift. I also came to a place where I thought outside of myself. I know when you're so deeply submerged in your feelings or despair it's hard to see anything else. When these times would creep up I'd also ask myself, "How would this really affect my family?" "I know these people love me and I don't have the heart to hurt them like that." "What would it be like for the person who finds my body?"

That last one makes my eyes well with tears, even to this day. It would be terrible and catastrophic for someone who loves you dearly to find you cold and lifeless. It would be an image, a memory, and a trauma they would have to carry with them for the rest of their life. I couldn't bring myself to do that to someone I love.

These thoughts kept me from taking action and hurting myself.

After sitting in that for so long I realised it wasn't me truly wanting to take my own life. What I really wanted and why I kept feeling so heavy and negative, repeating those phrases over and over; 

What I truly wanted was to get out of the bottom of the barrel.

Since I realised this, I then had to put in this new thought to reaffirm what I really needed and change the way I was thinking about myself and the circumstance. No kidding, I had to repeat this again and again. Just like I did the negative, but replacing it with what was actually true. _______

Painting pretty pictures-  Unhealthy psychological coping-

One of the things I had to un-learn was the thoughts I developed to deal with my life. It was present from a young age and was being delt with up to my experiences with alcohol. -I had learned to paint the picture I wanted to see to deal with my reality.

-My internal dialogue, the thoughts and words I would dwell on each day, hindered me and kept me down.

I didn't always live in the best of areas or keep the best of company. I would spend my days imagining things the way I wanted to see them, not how they actually were. Painting that "picture" over people as well. Those people that I chose to paint as friends or maybe even someone I got romantically involved with; were actually bad for me and being around them put me in dangerous situations. Not just that, it was also about abuse. Choosing to put on "rose colored glasses", stay in the situation, and stay blind to how serious it was that he was leaving bruises on my body.

_______

Solving the problem-  

"If you can get your mind out, you can get out." -Bishop TD Jakes

First I give a looooot of credit to God. He has been there to pick me up and dust me off more times than I can count. Constantly there walking with me through good and through all of the bad. Having someone there, knowing absolutely that He's always there, has kept me through so much. Knowing that He can handle what I'm going through. 

Knowing I can talk to Him openly about all of this and He still loves me so much. He has come through in so many ways where I could see and feel evidence of this.

Part of solving the problem for me has been my relationship with God. Being able to pray to ask for help and answers. Being able to pray just to have someone to talk to. There was also a great comfort in knowing that Person I was talking to is family I can trust with my whole heart. It being a solid relationship with my Heavenly Father. Unlike some of my life experiences with biological parents. Don't get me wrong I do leave room for human error, we all make mistakes and bad choices. But there's something else, something priceless and special, to have a relationship like that.

Part 2- Self programming and unlearning bad habits-

I did this by keeping things that were building me up in front of my face on a daily basis. Constantly moving through a range of things and getting my hands on every little good morsel I could put in my mind and heart.

I was taught and told by my pastor to speak life over things. Meditating on what God's word says about me and my life. Speaking those scriptures over myself and my life.

I would save quotes in word files. I would save images to a folder on my pc. I have a collection of quote memes and bible verses on Pinterest. I would also write stuff down in my journal.

I also had to self program like this because my surroundings and my circumstance were not reflective of the changes I was trying to make. And when I got lax or lazy I would start to slip into old habits.

I even have files on my pc desktop that I see every day. So even if I'm not always trying to read them, just that being in my line of sight daily will leave a subconscious impression.

Be as consistent as you can and keep climbing up and out of the mess.

Self treating-

I've prayed to be delivered from alcohol more than once. God answered. I kept making those bad choices that were hurtful to Him and harmful to me. So I did get to experience God's mercy when He lifted that weight off of me. Making it easy for me to quit and stay sober. But there were times I wasn't strong enough to resist or giving in because of social situations.

Then I was reminded of something in a sermon about Moses and the tablets for the ten commandments. How God did all the heavy lifting, all the work the first time, but Moses dropped them. Then God made him do the laborious work the second time.

Basically nodding toward, that because of my behavior I was going to have to work a little harder this time.

So I had to come to a point where I made a plan to quit. I had come to a point where I drank so often and so much that my brain and body were "rewired" because of the substance present in my system too often.

I had a couple nights I was able to fight through the temptation and go without drinking that evening. I had symptoms of withdrawal. Sweating, accelerated heart rate, and inability to sleep through the entirety of the night.

That worried me so I looked up the affects of alcohol and withdrawal. I read that seizures, hallucinations, and delirium are the more serious symptoms. I was afraid that could happen to me considering how much I was drinking.

I made a plan to follow over the course of several weeks. Taking my consumption down bit by bit. To wean myself off of alcohol dependency and help my body to heal and reset.

Will I be able to stay sober? I think so. I know God is with me and He's helping me every day. I've also put myself through so much pain and suffering. You get to the point where you don't ever want to go back to that place. For me, it's this. For some it's an event, that something happens, and for them that's the breaking point.

Beyond this point-

Staying on a healthy diet, all around.

"Your diet is not just what you eat. It is what you watch, what you listen to, what you read, the people you hang around. Be mindful of the things you put into your body emotionally, physically, and spiritually."

To keep up that lifestyle that got me out of trouble and healed me. To continue to pay attention, be mindful, and intentional in my life and with my decisions. And finally, be good to my body with healing and nutritious things after what I've put it through.

One more very valuable piece of information that was shared by Pastor Sarah Jakes-Roberts. The basic idea is that you have to live the lifestyle that best helps you grow, prosper, and stay healthy mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. What's good for other people may not be the best for you. And you have to make that choice, and you do you, no matter what everyone else is doing.

_______

There is hope-

I read a lot of comments on certain apps and forums. It's surprising to me the volume of people who have had or are going through these hard feelings of depression, loneliness, and sadness. I read the comments of people who don't feel like or know if they're going to make it.

Someone does see you.

God sees you.

I see you.

Your life is important. God breathed life into you and put you here on this earth for a reason. You can ask God what that reason is, ask Him for your purpose. I have and He answered. "Call unto me, and I will answer thee, and show thee great and mighty things, which thou knowest not." -Jeremiah 3:33

"Killing yourself doesn't end the chances of life getting worse. It eliminates the possibility of it ever getting any better."

You are valuable. Your thoughts, your words, and your unique experiences that shaped who you are, all of that is valuable. I know not all of it may have been pretty, but it could be the thing that can be used to; help someone, change someone's life for the better, or help make good changes in your community.

Don't look down on yourself like that. Don't be so hard on yourself.

We can choose. Remember, every day, that you can choose. You want better things in your life, you can choose. You want to feel better about things, you can choose.

I know it's not always easy. I've had to fight like hell sometimes. But it is doable. Grow, evolve, explore. Feed your heart and mind good things and knowledge.

Take those steps. Make those choices. Find the little miracles in life.

It's up to you though. You're the one that has to make the decision.

There are also resources available to you for help. God has always been the top answer for me. I'll pray that God sends you help. That He will lead you to the right people and in the right direction.

________

That last little bit of effort-

Even if you may feel like you have almost nothing left. Nothing left to give. No more fuel in the tank.

That last little bit of effort may very well be the thing, the moment, that gets you the breakthrough you've been so desperately needing.

Don't give up.

-Best of luck to you. You have someone rooting for you and praying for you. -B-

[kuwaiti-kid]

How Financial Freedom is Possible on Almost Any Income

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Financial freedom means that you live a fully-funded lifestyle that does not require a full-time job to support, though you may still choose to work a job you enjoy.

It means you have complete control over your life and the choices that you make. The money component is no longer the primary factor in your decision-making process and you are not forced to do things (like work) because you need the paycheck to fund your standard of living.

That’s an incredible feeling.

Financial freedom is also commonly known as financial independence, and it too implies that you are no longer beholden to a job to fund your lifestyle.

Instead, your savings and investments are big enough to sustain your lifestyle for the foreseeable future without holding a job. You may choose to continue working jobs that you love, but the ability to quit work at a moment’s notice, without thinking about money, is what makes our lives truly “independent” and free.

How to Achieve Financial Freedom on Any Income

Financial freedom is an equation. And, it's an equation that works almost every time. The equation doesn't know about race or gender. It does not care about your upbringing or your past. The equation is about the numbers, and numbers are nearly as uncompromising as it gets.

Too often, people believe that income is the only part of the equation that matter. In other words, earn a big enough income and, well, obviously they can achieve financial freedom.

But, that's just not true.

When nearly 25% of families that earn over $150,000 a year still live paycheck-to-paycheck, the numbers prove it's not that easy.

According to CNBC, Americans hold over $800 billion in credit card debt, with the average person carrying almost $6,200 in debt.

Source: CNBC

It's because earning an income is only a single part of what it takes to be free from money worries. To never have to stress about money. It's not the only part, and to find out what it really takes to be free from financial stress, we need to take a look at the entire story.

This story begins with income, and how deceptive our paychecks can be.

The Deceptive High Income Problem

There is one major problem with earning a high income: we start to think that we can afford just about everything.

Big salaries give us a lot of resources to play with, and if we are not careful, we could quickly find ourselves spending the majority of what we earn.

And when we do that, nobody is getting ahead. Financial freedom is a distant prayer.

And, high income debt is the common problem.

We like to tell ourselves that since we work long hours, we deserve to spend that money. We are, in essence, rewarding ourselves for all the hours and the stress to do our jobs. But, when those rewards start to become an integral part of our lifestyle, we systematically create a position of weakness.

Incomes are deceptive because when we don't use them properly, we create a false sense of security. As the Coronavirus-inspired economic downturn of 2020 proved, things change.

And sometimes, quickly.

We may not always have good jobs. There is no way we can accurately predict the future. And, our spending habits today effect our lifestyles tomorrow – every time.

Our incomes are powerful forces, and when we use them in a smart and controlled way, we build a solid foundation for wealth.

It all begins with understanding the financial freedom equation.

The Financial Freedom Equation

This equation is simple: First, we earn an income. Nothing can truly happen without some sort of cash flow.

Second, if we do smart things with that income (like save and, more importantly, invest), our wealth grows over time. And finally, controlling our lifestyle helps to ensure that we have enough money, after paying for the basic necessities of life, to save and invest.

Step #1: Earn an income

To achieve financial freedom, your income does not need to be big. Though, the more money we earn, the more we can invest. But strictly, financial freedom is possible with virtually any income provided we are smart with every dollar that we earn.

For most of us, our jobs provide the majority of our incomes. Other times, side hustles and other creative tactics can bring in a bunch of additional income.

Step #2: Invest your income

Investing a good portion of our income is what sets us up to build wealth, and this wealth is what enables financial freedom.

Basic investment guidelines:

Your checking account is not an investment; in fact, it’s one of the worst ways to “save” because your cash will not grow inside a checking account

All real investments contain a risk; know this going into any investment

Most investments are not “get rich quick”; instead, they tend to grow (and sometimes shrink) over time

Be careful before getting into any “hidden jackpots” or investments that seem too good to be true hidden gems exist, but they typically are not easy to come by

Although there are plenty of strategies out there, I am a big believer in “slow and steady wins the race”, and that’s been my personal investment strategy for years.

Examples of common investments

Savings accounts, CDs (Certificates of Deposit), Treasury Bills and U.S. Savings Bonds are lower-risk investments, but they also offer a lower rate of return. Most high-wealth individuals do not solely rely on these types of investment accounts to build wealth, though they may include them in their overall portfolio..

Mutual Funds and ETFs are built for longterm investing and are a diversified set of stocks, bonds and securities in which investors collectively invest. These investment accounts provide a higher return potential, but they also include more risk.

Bonds are debts in the form of loans made to companies (or governments, cities) that pay a set interest rate over time. Bonds are typically less risky than stocks.

Stocks are shares of ownership in publicly traded companies. As investors buy stock, they also buy a stake in the company. Stocks are among the riskier investment options because if the company loses value, the value of its stock shares also decreases. But, if the company appreciates in value, each stock investor builds wealth.

Real estate investments include land, houses, apartment and office buildings and commercial complexes. Investors make money when the value of the land or the building increases in value.

401(k)s are pre-tax company-sponsored retirement plans belonging to employees. Many companies offer a percentage match of money contributed by the employee, making this an excellent option to invest. Note that there is no guaranteed return.

Roth IRAs are post-tax retirement accounts where money grows tax-free, making this another good option for investors to help grow their wealth. Note that there are contribution and withdrawal restrictions for both 401(k)s as well as Roth IRAs.

HSAs, or Health Savings Accounts, are hidden gems when it comes to investing, though they won’t be available to everyone. A health savings account is a pre-tax investment account used for qualified healthcare expenses. Contributions are generally not subject to federal income taxes and money grows tax-free. If you don’t use your HSA money for a medical expense by a certain age (in 2020, it was 65), withdrawals can be taken from the HSA without penalty.

Brokerage accounts are fully-managed accounts set up to allow individual investors to invest money in a variety of different stocks, bonds and mutual funds. These accounts are managed by the brokerage firm, but the money inside the brokerage account belongs to the investor.

Over time, investments tend to build wealth – though, no invest exists without a certain degree of risk.

Our investment playbook

My wife and I achieved financial freedom using 7 basic investment principles:

Technique #1: We always invested at least the company-sponsored match (which was generally 4%) into our pre-tax 401(k)s.

Technique #2: Toward the end of our full time working careers (the last two or three years), we maxed out both of our 401(k) and Roth IRA accounts.

Technique #3: We built an emergency savings account with several years of living expenses.

Technique #4: In addition to our 401(k) and Roth IRA investments at work, we invested post-tax income in a Vanguard brokerage account to further boost our investments.

Technique #5: We automated everything that we could, including our contributions into our 401(k) accounts.

Technique #6: We used a great online tool called Personal Capital to help keep track of our entire financial picture.

Technique #7: We began using credit cards with the highest cash back and travel rewards points to take full advantage of the money that we were already spending.

Step #3: Control your lifestyle

The last step is controlling your lifestyle so your monthly expenses do not get out of control.

Streamlining your lifestyle is a three step process.

Those steps are:

Know where your money is going,

Identify ways to reduce spending, and

Continuously monitor (ongoing)

The first step is the most important because without a good understanding of where our money is going, it's very difficult to pinpoint where we can cut back.

It's a tedious process, but go through your bank and credit card statements, line by line, to understand what you're spending money on.

Avoid lifestyle inflation

A lot of us struggle with lifestyle inflation.

We start making more money and, in turn, we begin spending the majority of what we earn – simply because we have it to spend.

The causes of lifestyle inflation include:

Earning progressively more money each year, with bonuses and raises, which provides us with extra cash to spend,

We fund expensive vacations and huge purchases with all that “extra” money that we make year-to-year,

Many work jobs that expect us to look successful, creating a wicked cycle of earn-and-spend (more on this below), and

We try to keep up with our coworkers by matching (or exceeding) their level of spending on luxury items

As our incomes increase, so do our lifestyles.

In 2015, for example, CNBC reported that millionaires plan to spend $13,000 on vacations – in that year alone!

What’s the problem with that? If we spend the majority of the money that we bring in, we trap ourselves into a position where we NEED a high income, year after year, just to maintain the lifestyle that we built over the previous year.

High spending habits force so many big salaried households into a destructive debt-focused lifestyle that needs a high income to fund.

What happens to our lifestyle after that income stops?

Understand every expense

Make sure that you understand every expense (many descriptions are cryptic!).

Some online banking systems will help you categorize expenses to give you a better visual picture of your expenses. If they help, play with some of those tools to assist you in this process going forward.

This is a critical component in controlling your lifestyle. And, this is not the time to be judgmental. In step 2, we will learn how to decide what expenses to cut out.

Here are two important tips to help you as you dive through your statements.

Look for recurring expenses. These might include subscriptions to magazines, or memberships to clubs or websites, your cable TV package or anything else that gets billed on a regular basis. Highlight these expenses because we will use these in the next step of the process.

Categorize everything. Putting each and every expense into a category will help you to visualize at a higher level what areas of your life are costing you the most money. For example, common expense categories include restaurants, alcohol, groceries, travel, fuel, clothing, automotive repairs, home repairs and improvements, etc.

How to figure out what to cut

Next, we figure out ways to slash our expenses. To do this, I like to ask several questions:

Am I reading every magazine that I subscribe to? Enjoying the wine from that club I'm in? What about Netflix?

Or, are my vacations getting a little out of control? Could I cut back on where I go or what I do while on vacation?

Can I cook a little more at home rather than going out to eat so often?

Can I wash my own car rather than running it through the car wash? Or, cut my own hair instead of going to a barber? Make my own coffee at home?

Only you can answer these questions, but they will help us determine what expenses to lose during this process.

The bottom line with this step: Understand where your money is going, then cut out anything that isn't critical to your life. Then, use this extra month to save and invest in appreciating assets. This is how money builds.

In Conclusion

Financial freedom is a simple equation, but it takes time to solve. Using smart money principles that utilize the true power of our income will enable more choices in our life because money is no longer the primary concern.

Money is a tool, and so is our income. Like a hammer, money can be used to build anything that we want.

We could use money to build a life full of consumption. We can buy the big house on the hill, or the pricey import luxury car, the expensive suits and nice dresses, dinners at high-priced restaurants, season tickets to sporting events, etc.

Alternatively, we could use that money to support the basic necessities of life and protect our futures, like living in a more reasonable home and driving a normal paid-off car, maintaining a 6-month emergency fund and investing the rest for our future retirement.

Or, something in-between.

Everybody’s money goal should be simple: use money strategically. Use enough money to maintain your family’s basic needs (and maybe a little more), then save and invest the remainder so you won’t need to spend the rest of your life working for the privilege of spending.

Saving and investing to achieve freedom from money is the smartest decision that anyone could ever make.

The post How Financial Freedom is Possible on Almost Any Income appeared first on Your Money Geek.

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[jamiebongwater]

Pretty Sure This Is America

Somewhere in America today a single middle-aged man who works in the financial sector parked somewhere to scarf down a quick lunch while skimming the news of the day. He was confronted by headline after headline telling of a polarized public and a mosaic of disparate, fractured Americas struggling to understand one another, and he wondered aloud to himself what the source of this confusion could be. “It sure seems like things used to be simpler,” he thought, “I would like to think we could just sit down and find a solution that works for everyone. I know one thing for sure though, I never would have thought to complain as much as this generation when I was younger.” He was feeding from a wrapper with a Taco Bell logo on it, and gave no thought to the place his lunch was made as he pondered the current state of the country he called home. Where were all these dissatisfied people he kept hearing about, and what were their lives really like? At this moment the man could not recall the faces of any of the working class people he had spoken to that day, even though they had made his breakfast, lunch, and coffee, and washed his car.

I recently took a gig at Jimmy John’s in an even smaller town just North of Coeur d’ Alene. I am planning to relocate to Las Vegas in about 1.5 months to make some real music, money, and art -related moves, and I need some extra money saved for the move. I am working five days a week as a cook at a downtown restaurant right now, which I like, but it’s just not enough money to fund my immediate endeavors. I decided to bite the bullet and get yet another retarded corporate job to fill out my schedule. I mean, I applied to some pretty cool places, but due to the time frame I basically had no choice but to take the first thing that came my way. This place didn’t even interview me.

ring ring

“Hello?” “Hey yeah I do need someone for mornings on Wednesday and Thursday. So just come in at 10, we’ll have a shirt for you and stuff. But there’s two training videos you have to watch, they’re like two and a half hours each-” “Wait a minute, I’m sorry- who is this?” “Sorry, my bad. This is Justin from Jimmy John’s.” “Oh, good to hear from you!” “Yeah, we just had someone leave and I’m actually tryna bring on two new people. So, you can come on down really anytime between now and then and watch those videos. I know it’s shitty but you get a sandwich for doing it and you also get paid so...” “Yeah man, sounds great. At the latest I’ll be by at 7:30am on Wednesday.” “Haha. Alright buddy.”

click When I got there Wednesday morning Justin looked tired and his face was red and puffy. “I’ve been out sick for two days, man. Today was the first day I had to wake up to an alarm clock again. Fucking sucked. Anyway, let’s get you set up with this video.” He wasted no time pulling out a Samsung tablet and setting it up on the table, where I watched my new owner personally explain how to uphold the Jimmy John’s brand for over 145 minutes. I was full of coffee and broke up my piss breaks to make the video go by faster. In every city there is a working-class underbelly composed of various spheres of fast-food workers, dishwashers and cooks, low-rent security guards, parking attendants, and other people working in marginalized industries, barely or not quite making ends meet while at the same time trying to get to a better stage in their lives. In different cities these circles overlap and mix to different degrees, but combined this working-class, service-industry group often comprises the largest single sector of the economy by number of employees. In Coeur d’ Alene the service industry contingent is particularly diverse, lively, and tight-knit. You’ve got some local cooks and bartenders who have been at it forever, some hardcore burnout kids from the surrounding areas, inexperienced waiters and pretty 19-year old servers who are more likely to be middle class, from out-of-state, and/or attending classes at NIC, literally anyone who had a kid at an economically disadvantageous time and just needs a steady job, and my favorite, the rotating cast of misfits, cluess 18-year-olds, tweakers, and lost souls who staff our local fast-food restaurants, chain stores, and corporate entities with the absolute laxest hiring standards and highest turnover. I’ve been embedded with this cohort since moving to Coeur d’ Alene, and I’ve had the chance to interact with people from across the spectrum. While I mostly try to work slightly higher-wage, less-corporate line cook jobs, work is somewhat spotty in this town and I’ve ended up working whack ass places both on accident and out of desperation. In turn, many of my friends work for Hagadone Hospitality, the owner of the massive resort I refer to as Dracula’s Castle, and my long time girlfriend Katie was a manager at McDonald’s. My point being, I’ve been taking notes. Inside, Jimmy John’s was a sterile, mechanized assembly line for the conversion of offsite manufactured product into end-sale revenue, with the elimination of individual thought, habit, and work style as an incidental byproduct of the corporate auditing process. In this regard it was pretty similar to Subway, Domino’s, Jamba Juice, or any one of these interchangeable corporate-shell companies that make up at least half of the world’s food economy now. Remember that people in America’s towns and inner cities live and die in these chain stores, feeding their children with paychecks stamped with beaming logos. I don’t take this corporate homogenization lightly. Our work is our life. Don’t let them take it from you. College dropout who prepared for an economy that wasn’t there, Retiree returning to work because his savings wasn’t enough, inner-city single mother who just doesn’t have a better way to fund the upbringing of her child...

If you step outside today in most populous areas of the United States the world looks rather shitty. There’s a McDonald’s, Wendy’s, or Carl’s Jr. on every block, at least one, and people are rushing between working shitty jobs and spending their money on shitty things. A person’s life is made up of their time, money, and actions. The world we inhabit is made up of human lives. When jobs are shitty, lives are shitty. Working-class life in Coeur d’ Alene is in some ways a microcosm of the dystopian future that I fear may soon await most of the country. The inequities would be almost comical if it weren’t causing palpable suffering to thousands of people every day and stifling untold human potential.

The huge influx of outside money necessitates a massive service industry, but the work is highly seasonal. People at the bottom, most often the people born and raised in the area, are reduced to fighting over scraps; rents are relatively high and no establishment pays more than they absolutely have to, especially since Idaho’s minimum wage of $7.25 sets the bar pretty low. Middle management positions that offer some tentative financial security are a far off dream for most, and those who attain them are forced to guard their status to the point of assholery, bullying subordinates into submission and withholding valuable knowledge. The huge amount of property tax revenue enables the right wing government to fund a massive police force. The town’s drug subcultures remain extant, but are kept in check by a police and court system that actively preys on the underclass for revenue and to justify their salaries. This is the American Police State 101: There are more than enough businesses paying more than enough taxes, so the availability of public funds isn’t an issue. What these businesses require, however, is an endless supply of cheap labor, and the police fill this need by maintaining a permanently marginalized population of people who are not housing secure, people of color, people with substance abuse issues, and anyone who has to miss work because of court appearances or fail a background check. These people, who society blames for their own problems, are continually re-arrested for suffering from the afflictions of poverty and thereby kept in a state of economic desperation. All in all, ordinary working brothers and sisters are largely prevented from sharing in the leisure opportunities and scenic beauty of Coeur d’ Alene that bourgeoisie tourists from around the world come to enjoy, all because of the false promises of economic justice that are so pervasive across the United States. I will give you a specific example. I have what would be considered a pretty good job for this area and I make $12.50 an hour. Extrapolated to one year, that’s $26,000. However, I made barely over $18,000 last year, I know because I just did my taxes. That’s like $1,500 a month. Rent on an apartment like mine is $1,000, though in my case I was splitting it with somebody. And in reality I worked over 5 jobs, some of them weird tip jobs like delivery driving, and never knew quite how much money was coming in. Needless to say nearly all of it was sucked up by bills, paying to fix shit on my car, and court expenses. These are the harsh realities of working class life in America. Jobs like Jimmy John's shouldn't exist as we currently know them. If a college kid or a single mother needs to get an entry-level job at a place like Jack in the Box or Wal-Mart because they have limited options and need to fund important things in their lives because they are adults, then they can be paid $15 a goddamn fucking hour or some kind of meaningful indexed minimum wage that enables them to actually do those things. Like eat, for instance, or acquire further training. If prices go up on prepared foods and service industry-based luxuries- fuck, it astounds me that people talk like that would be the worst thing imaginable. Have you seen our cities? This country has become an absolute corporate shitscape. These dumb corporate jobs, these cheap simulations of luxury, there needs to be less of them, they need to pay their employees better, they should probably be a little more expensive, and they need to provide at least a hope of a better future for everyone involved. Why anyone would oppose accomplishing that through legislation is beyond me. These companies have become the most profitable firms in human history off the labor and hard-earned money of ordinary Americans, and they have only used their profits to further decimate the working class. Money has to stay circulating for the economy to work. It moves upstream through consumer spending, and it moves downstream through paychecks. Right now the paychecks aren't big enough to keep the whole population in a state of healthy economic activity. Capitalists aren't going to start paying out more on their own. It's their job to protect their bottom line. The people need to use a combination of collective bargaining and legislation to protect their interests and to force more money out of the corporate machine. Because our government is now owned by corporations through legalized bribery, this will necessarily entail rooting out corruption from the Federal level down and making the bribery of representatives illegal. Not an easy task, but nothing worthwhile is. What are you gonna do, sit on your ass? How pathetic would that be. A sandwich maker at a chain sandwich shop could easily have a dignified existence. It doesn't have to be a terrible job. Make sandwiches, whatever, talk to people, get paid. As long as you have some sense of autonomy at the workplace, you have a chance to be good at what you do, you feel the people around you want you to succeed, and it enables you to actually live your life, there's nothing wrong with that. One could easily design the job at Jimmy John's so that it doesn't suck. But it would necessarily cost Jimmy John's more money. They wouldn't be able to schedule 8 grown ass men per day to work four hour shifts and weird split shifts, not train them at all, make them sign mandatory arbitration clauses so they can't sue or organize, make them pay for their own meals, no benefits,... your life emanates from your job. If your job sucks, your life sucks. Some conservatives will tell you that that's the point of Capitalism. Life has to suck so that you are motivated to make it not suck; in other words, the economy makes you work to achieve a dignified existence and your work fuels the economy. I happen to think this model is asinine and outdated. Healthy humans are largely self-motivated and they like to do work and make money. These corporations are not helping to train healthy, hard-working humans with these entry level jobs, they are wasting people's time in dead-end positions, systematically devaluing the labor of the working class. People can tell when they are being fucked over and treated as if they are expendable, and they don’t respond well to it. When your life sucks due to a lack of funds and you can't connect the dots, you can't pay a security deposit, you can't fix your car, you can't go back to school even though you want to, that's wasted human potential. Time, work, effort, and creativity are the things that our world is made of. Right now the corporate machine is devouring human life and shitting it into the ocean, and nobody is even saying anything about it. The great lie sold to the working class by the elite in this country is that the market forces of Capitalism will naturally and necessarily create the perfect meritocracy and by extension the perfect civil society. This lie is projected to the individual as "Work hard for your masters and you will be recognized and rewarded with your very own piece of the wealthiest society in human history." It's a perfect swindle, designed to make ordinary people identify with wealth that they don't have. Workers compete for their place in the paycheck stream by putting on appearances and throwing each other under the bus instead of actually working, managers are forced to cut labor costs and encourage high turnover instead of training and motivating existing employees, executives outsource, subcontract, and issue ever-more demanding corporate standards without regard to human life or dignity, and everybody blames the person immediately below or above them for the shitty state of things. THERE ARE BETTER MODELS. Social science has come a long way. THERE ARE THINGS THAT CAN BE DONE. I know what some of those things are but not all of them. I am not a scientist, I am a writer. My main job is to point out how full of shit everyone is. But there are people developing kickass solutions to the things that are making human life suck, and you need to listen to those people. The only people who are definitely wrong are the ones saying that the current system is fine and we don't need to do anything, or worse, that giving more money and power to the corporations is the answer.  The corporations, as long as they have the unrestricted freedom to do so, will always find creative ways to staff their buildings that are cheaper than hiring and developing long-term employees who are paid a good salary. The corporations created this backassward world of ours, now the people will have to do something to change it. A simple place to start would be taking seriously the notion that everyone who has a full time job deserves at least an economy-class ticket to a decent life that offers some degree of choice and autonomy. Say, enough income to comfortably rent an apartment, stock the fridge, and finance a preowned car. You could accomplish this by creating a good federal minimum wage that is indexed against housing costs, alongside a robust social safety net and other worker protections such as standardizing work contracts so that employees who desire full-time employment or consistent hours have some guarantee that their expectations will be fulfilled. That's not really a lot to ask. All the modern western democracies do this, even ones that do dumb shit all the time like Great Britain and Australia. Can we be smarter than Australia, the country that elected Tony Abbott? I guess time will tell.

I hope things get better for the working people of Coeur d’ Alene, and I plan to come back to this area for Barter Faire and shit next year. But I’m not going to spend the rest of my life fighting the impossible uphill battle that it would be to try to bring socioeconomic justice to North Idaho. I hate cops. I hate cops hate cops hate cops. I haaaate cooooops. I’m getting the fuck out of here. I need to get out while I’m ahead and try to make some real money somewhere else. I leave on Saturday. The Desert Cruiser is fully outfitted. See you on the other side.

JAMIE

[incendiaryplottwist-blog]

Other People’s Children

Speeding through the subway station at five-thirty on a Tuesday, the wheels of Corey’s power wheelchair whirred under them while their best friend, Bailey, talked their ear off, the words a welcome balm.  This was an early evening ritual continued as always, recounting the ridiculous bullshit that laced every work day--

“He swore he’d seen me there before. He wouldn’t leave me alone all night. Swore up and down I was his cousin’s friend in a wheelchair. Maybe I just forgot,” Bailey said.

Corey listened and smiled the smile the two of them knew as the reflex one kept at hand for the times it was needed badly enough.

Together they considered the facts. A strange man insisting he knew Corey’s very closest friend and took it all a step further by refusing to listen when he was told this was not the case. Horrible and invasive, but still not the weirdest gripe of the day, week or even this year alone. This was fairly standard in either of their lives, actually.

“Fuck him,” Corey said with false cheer. “May his teeth fall out.  My train’s here, I’ll call you back.”                 “Seeya!” the reply was a relieved sing-song. The call had done what it was meant to do, for now. Corey and Bailey each knew who the other was and what they’d need at any given time. The smile on Corey’s face softened and brightened as the line clicked off. They took a deep breath, then moved forward and drove onto the train, a maneuver which required concentration, and another fake look, one of patience and gratitude that able bodied people felt was required for the slightest acknowledgment of a disabled person’s presence.

This was not horror.  This was every single day. This was an okay day. Maybe even a good one. On this day, Corey felt human.

*~*~* The walk home had been pleasant as Corey swept through the fall air. There was always more wind resistance in a speeding chair, meaning it was best to travel bundled up a bit more than the average bear but the weather wasn’t something Corey minded one bit. This day was still counting as a good one when Corey arrived at the building and the warmth of home, definitely worth appreciating after the temperature outside. This was almost worth a real smile. For a little while, at least.

Corey had hired and paid a woman to work as a personal care assistant in the evenings. She was meant to assist with daily living tasks based on the level of help needed to mitigate disability. Her name was Beatrice and she was twenty minutes late. This was a common occurrence in the world of disability services and assistance, but not typical of this employee.

Dealing with many unreliable employees over the years meant the task of seeking their help came with a constant low thrum of anxiety. When someone was late, running through hypothetical scenarios of what might have happened was also typical. Things could go from standard and dependable to simply having no one available on zero notice with stunning regularity, an actual norm of needing this type of assistance, even with pay. Respect for employers was the exception and not the rule for so many people who looked at such work as charity done out of the good of their hearts, even if it came with a paycheck. This had never been a problem with Bea before. Corey thought about what may have happened to Bea. Maybe a hit and run, a sudden medical crisis, an emergency with her neighbor. Any of these and many other possible scenarios could easily take away reliable access to assistance, hope of a hot meal or a relatively clean house. Yet the reality of what was about to happen was something else entirely. Something mundane, a minute and predictable disaster that was nevertheless unexpected. Beatrice walked into work as if being late wasn’t even on her radar for the evening and Corey’s stomach was already growling when the door opened and Bea was finally there. There was a determined look on her face that made caused recognition to dawn for Corey. Beatrice was about to say something very uncharacteristic, at least for her. Dozens of other employees over a lifetime of workers, yes, but not Bea. “I’m leaving,” is all she said. Corey’s attention was suddenly taken up with trying not to panic. Getting out of bed, out of the house and to work were all still on the table. Hot meals and a sense of security less so. Corey started brainstorming about takeout food and badly-made sandwiches that barely tasted like anything but bread. “Tomorrow has to be my last day,” Bea said, and Corey’s stomach lurched, hunger evaporating in an instant. There was a dull feeling of betrayal, but this was not unfamiliar territory. Being seen as a person at all was a luxury often not afforded to Corey. The sting came only from the fact that it was Bea who proved this right yet again.

Corey thought about calling Bailey back but exhaustion seeped in and paused that plan. Waiting a little while to do it seemed the wiser course of action. Corey decided instead to eat a few Oreos and grab an iced coffee from the corner. They would be a consolation prize for suddenly losing the person who had once been the best personal care assistant in quite some time with no notice or consideration. Bea was not the literal best who had ever been, of course, but the best that was available then. Now there was no way to get around replacing her with someone whose reliability would remain to be seen.

When it was time to call Bailey at last, Corey leaned into this common hell for disabled people and let it seep into the first words of the conversation. “Bea’s gone,” Corey said, shaking slightly with emotion. It wasn’t usually hard to call Bailey. It was just the exhaustion. All reserves were gone. “I was wondering why you called back late,” Bailey said. “I’m sorry. I thought she was one of the good ones.” “So did I.” “Can’t believe she planned to just disappear on you.” “Me either,” Corey said, and admitted, “This one blindsided me,” and a fresh wave of frustration broke over the conversation. All the same, it had been worse before. Much worse. And Bailey had always been there. They would both remember that. It wasn’t worse. “Can I get a round of, ‘Fuck her?’ Kidding. Kidding.” Corey continued, then sighed. Time for bigger person mode, as always. “I’m sure she’s just going through something. So that’s that.” Bailey gave an answering sigh. “I’m sorry. You know what you need? Some wine.” “I’ve got Oreos.” “Sugar. Same thing? Nah. Not the same thing. But close enough, I guess.” “Wine tomorrow.” “I dunno how you do all this with so little social lubrication.” A soft laugh wound its way down the line. “Love you.” “I guess I just enjoy fulfilling the stereotype of the pure and virginal cripple,” Corey teased. “Love you too. Talk to you tomorrow?” “Yeah, unless no one shows up later and I really need a 3 AM shot in the arm.” “Good thing you’re not dealing with Bea.” Bailey’s sardonic smile was evident in her voice. “No kidding. Would the two of us have luck that bad on the same day?” “Let’s try not to find out.” “Indeed, let’s not.”

*~*~*

Being alone at home was sometimes better than the bustle of a work day, even after a string of nights like the ones following Beatrice’s departure. Sometimes things were worse. Sometimes there was employees around for errands and chores to get done and sometimes no one was available for three weeks or more. Sometimes getting to work was fine, but there were times it was impossible between PCA absences and all the side jobs given to disabled people (the job of going to doctors, the job of managing attendant staff) that are really each their own full-time commitment. Corey’s mother had said once between the beatings she doled out that storms were meant to be weathered, and storms were never that scary anyway.

These days there was Bailey, and sure, local contacts worth trusting half as much would be great too, but they were hard to find. Most of Corey’s social circle lived in outer Mongolia (okay, in various other states, but with travel being the pain it was, her people might as well have been on another continent) but they’ve all helped in the ways they could, especially Bailey. Nightly calls from people who knew exactly what to say were priceless. Corey treasured each time Bailey launched into another goofy story about Minx, the emotional support cat, and there was room to laugh together. In those moments the laughter held loneliness at bay, pushing back against the inability to tell who would be forced to be alone and stranded next. *~*~* Two weeks passed without much help at home. The ad Corey placed was garnering lackluster results on Craigslist. There had only been a few dead ends so far. The kitchen floor was sticky, and a light bulb that was unreachable from a seated position had blown out, but work at the office had continued at a steady and productive pace and a performance review came and went the previous week with positive results. All this despite stress from working behind the scenes to replace Miss Gone-Tomorrow.

Pickings were remaining slim, with nothing arriving since the application from someone who gave a number that didn’t work. Corey had run the ad multiple times with no results, but was considering sending an answer to the applicant whose resume arrived that morning. The applicant’s name was Gigi and her qualifications looked decent. CPR and first aid, while not necessary for daily practice on shift, indicated she had been prepping for this sort of job, and nothing about her work experience set off immediate red flags that she wouldn’t be open to suggestions during on-the-job training. That alone was an amazing sign.

Over lunch Corey decided to give Gigi a chance and prepared mentally for another phone interview. They had always been done in the hours after work, offering an idea of the applicant’s demeanor and commitment to the work they are about to be asked to do.  A five-minute phone check-in routinely answered a few lingering questions about the applicant as easily as it offered them a platform to ask directions and firm up the timing. Corey had tried to engage with one other applicant this way in the early days of running the ad without any success. Honestly, things are so often this way that none of it had come as a surprise.

“Sure,” someone named Vanessa had said in her phone interview, seeming bubbly and engaged, signs that the check-in might come to fruition. “I’ll see you then,” when they had scheduled a sit-down for two days later. When time had come for the interview, though, she hadn’t come, nor answered her phone or called to offer an excuse.

Corey pulled up Gigi’s email.  Her phone number, with a local cell phone area code, was on her resume.  It was easy to begin to dial. Rain began overhead and Corey’s head filled with a dull ache.  With three digits dialed, the phone was suddenly very heavy and fell back down onto the table. Corey thought about calling later, when the headache had passed. Later. Later. Days passed since the failed attempt to call Gigi. Another light had burnt out, this one in the bathroom. Corey rolled to work all week with a migraine that hadn’t let up since the night of the failed call. The freezer was coming up on empty but it hasn’t mattered much with the migraine stomach from hell. At least there was a small blessing in only being able to handle the lightest of meals. Having more food in the house was not going amiss. The last thing Corey wanted to do was make that call.  So an email went out instead.  It would have to do.

Gigi arrived on time for her interview, wearing sensible but stylish clothing, and her smile--her smile was the first sign she was happy to be here.

Her smile.

She was happy. Corey smiled back.

It was infectious, that was all, and Corey wanted to give an impression: appreciative that she came, but not desperate.

"Thank you for coming," Corey said. The gratitude was mostly genuine. After all, out of this batch of applicants, Gigi was the first to come to her interview. Corey would never understand job applicants who gave non-working numbers or people who refused to show up to interviews without so much as a single call.

"You're welcome," Gigi said, and when "honey," didn’t follow, nor "sweetie," nor any other false term of endearment, Corey’s smile widened a little bit. One test had just been passed. It would be all right to relax just a fraction and maybe to consider what it would be like to see Gigi Gates’ face most evenings of the week after work.

"It's good to be here," Gigi said, turning that same smile directly toward Corey.  “I’d like to see what I can do for you.”

Something, something was gnawing at the back of Corey’s mind as the headache returned, dull but present once more. Gigi’s smile didn’t move. It hadn’t moved once.

Thunk.

Corey kept a tool called a reacher on the hallway table, a long metal tube with a handle and squeezy button on one end which controlled a pincer tool on the other. It was there to offer Corey the option of reaching high enough to throw the chain on the front door. It had not moved.

The chain thudded home on its own. Corey knew because Gigi hadn’t moved either and no one had the reacher in their hand. “It’s good to be here,” she repeated. She dropped a bag in the front hall. It fell with a rather impressive sound, like it was full of bricks. “Don’t you worry,” she said from behind the smile that didn’t move. “I can sleep on the couch. We’re going to have a lot of fun. It’s so good here. I bet you need a lightbulb changed, don’t you.” All the lights in this room were working fine. Bile rose in Corey’s throat.

“Yes.” “Do you have any in the house?” “I’m not sure,” came the answer, something objectively true and yet horrible to admit--except-- “Well, dear, you’ll definitely have to get some. I saw the pharmacy on the corner. Why don’t you go and get some and I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Corey watched the chain on the door slide itself free once more and had to hold back a bout of oh shit I’m fucked uncomfortable laughter. “Now go.”

*~*~* Corey did go and get the light bulbs. The nearby pharmacy was two blocks down and once outside of the apartment the almost-ever-present headache cleared quickly. Getting the bulbs took all of five minutes. Once back inside, all too soon, it was clear Gigi had been true to her word. She was still there. The same smile was still on her face, never moving. “Good job!” It was unclear if this was better or worse than sweetie or honey but given that this person showed no sign of leaving-- “Um. Thanks. So….” “I think we’re going to be a great team,” Gigi said. “You know, just visiting with you, I feel better. Let me change the lightbulbs.” Corey moved to start showing Gigi where the blown bulbs were before stopping to think, but the stranger moved ahead of the chair, cutting off Corey’s path, and found each of them easily. Of course, she has been in the apartment on her own now. Maybe she had already looked around while Corey was down the street. Maybe she had looked through all of Corey’s stuff. “I’ll be right back,” was all Corey said before opening the apartment door and heading into the outer hallway and closing Gigi inside. Once away from her, Corey whirred over to the elevator and headed down into the lobby, slowly thinking over what to do next. The next logical step, as always, was to dial Bailey. It would be fine to just leave a message. It would be fine.

When riding in the chair, Corey carried a bag safely slung across her body so as not to interfere with the joystick. Pulling the phone from the depths of the bag, it was clear that the screen was blank. A moment later it became equally clear that the device was unresponsive as if the battery had run down. It had been at seventy-five percent when Corey was waiting for Gigi before her interview, ready in case anything had come up or she had been lost. Now the phone was dead. There was no denying it. All of the spare chargers were inside the apartment. Inside the apartment with Gigi.

Corey had left a strange woman in her apartment alone. If she hadn’t gone through my stuff before-- The thought did not complete, but then again it didn’t have to. The headache redoubled in strength. Corey leaned forward and to the side and retched onto the linoleum floor of the apartment lobby. She had to get out of here. Into the air. Maybe her phone would work out there.

Corey, my dear. The thought pushed through her mind, escalating the pain in her head. When you’re done, come back upstairs, the thoughts that were not her own continued. We have so much more to do. No. No. She wouldn’t go upstairs. She drove haphazardly in her chair through the lobby doors and outside. The further she got from Gigi…. The safer she would be. Right? The air around her was refreshing, a slight breeze buffeting her as she drove away at top speed. When she could see better through the pain, she checked her phone again. Nothing. Bailey. There had to be a way to let Bailey know.

But there was no battery, let alone a signal. The street was completely empty, nothing but spare bits of dirty paper rustling along the sidewalk. Still, Corey kept going, and going, and going, and yet… It felt impossible to get anywhere. First it just seemed that was the panic talking, but then, looking down, Corey considered something else. All the knobs on the power chair were in the right places to be going top speed indeed, thank you very much. That was nowhere near the speed Corey was going, though. Everything was slowing down, like in a movie, and the cool breeze had stopped. No one was anywhere. Corey was alone. Jamming everything as far forward as possible did nothing. The chair was moving, yes, but slower and slower the harder Corey fought for speed. Then, finally, the air shivered and the world pushed back. Not hard enough to send Corey’s 300-pound power chair into a full spin, but enough to be unmistakable. Pushing backward.

Corey, Gigi’s voice called, clawing its way inside, an invading force. Corey, where are you going?

Corey couldn’t see. The sun was suddenly blinding, the pain too intense even to drive the wheelchair. It hardly mattered, though. There was nothing. Nothing else. There was no way forward at all. There was still no wind, no movement in the air, except something was toppling the awnings of the nearby buildings, ripping them down as if the only sign that anyone had been here was nothing more than butcher-paper-thin nothingness. There was only silence, empty concrete, the buildings ripping down, and Corey. Soon the space devoid of people would be devoid of anything else, either. Nothing would be left behind, nothing moving or alive. Just like Gigi’s smile. There was nowhere to go but back inside. Corey experimentally backed the chair a bit further toward the apartment building and the universe allowed it. Corey moved on auto-pilot. The lobby of the building was now completely empty.

A sardonic thought flitted through Corey’s mind. In this world rapidly emptying of color and form, maybe the elevator wouldn’t work. Maybe the button would fall off the wall when pressed. Moving toward the elevator, pushed along by the terrible, empty wind, Corey saw that the bank of elevators had the most structure out of anything visible inside or outside the building. The elevator button engaged and the usual soft ping sounded as it arrived. The doors opened smoothly. Maybe Corey could stay right here. The air shivered once more and pushed.

Come here, dear. I’m your friend. Nowhere else. There was nowhere else.

Corey’s chair whirred, the noise suddenly loud in the sea of no-sound no-form that was whooshing into nothing all around. The elevator engaged and rose to the correct floor, the carpet moving eerily under the wheelchair as Corey headed back to the one remaining apartment door. Once inside, the door shut itself and, of course, the latch slid home. The apartment was dark and getting darker, but Gigi was still there, positively luminous. The air in the tiny living space flowed around her as if she were pulling it in with her very presence. She had also changed her clothes, now wearing a billowing night-dress of sheer fabric Corey couldn’t place. Corey allowed hypervigilance to be a guide in surveying the rest of the apartment. It was dark inside, yes, but more than that, out one tiny window stars were visible, as if the apartment itself had become detached from time. Five minutes ago it had been day, a day losing all of its color but day nonetheless. Hadn’t it? The apartment was dark for another reason too. The relatively empty white walls were no longer white. Wood paneling, or something like it, covered the walls now.  This meant the few small pieces of art and photographs Corey had collected over the years were no longer visible. A ladder stood in one corner, alone. This was not something that Corey owned. How much time had passed? While Corey had been desperate to make a phone call to Bailey, it seemed the world had slipped out of time somehow and Gigi had completely redecorated what space there was left.

Corey surveyed the furniture--the same--but suddenly realized that it was strewn with objects.. The contents of the bag Gigi had left in the hall were all over every visible surface. Junk. Clothes. Garbage that had not been there before. Tools, including a claw hammer. A claw hammer? Gigi turned her face to Corey again, her face almost completely featureless except that smile that never moved but was still there. Everything else that had been Gigi--eyes, nose, ears, everything, had gone the way of the rest of the universe, disappeared. That damn smile was still there.

I see you found my hammer, the thing that had been Gigi Gates said in Corey’s mind, then bent and picked it up. Corey’s eyes stayed right on the hammer as darkness descended and less and less of the garbage and other detritus Gigi had brought was visible at all. Corey had to watch the hammer. It’s so good to be home. I feel wonderful here. We make a great team. Just you and me.

[idoherty451]

State of Mind Update 3/28/2017

So it’s been a while since I’ve done an original post, and even longer since I’ve tried to work out my emotions (directly) on the page, but I have had a rough time emotion-wise the past few days, so I think it would be helpful to at least try. Feel free to skip this post; totally understandable if you don’t want to get tangled up in the emotional goings-on inside my head. I’m doing it mostly for myself.

TEAL DEER CROSSING

So for the past few months, really, I’ve been getting closer to running out of money in the bank. I quit my job last January, and since I don’t spend a whole lot of money on anything besides bills, I’ve been able to live off what I saved up over the course of 3 and a half years at my last job for the past year or so. I took the year to invest time in my music career--namely, making Stepping Stones--and I set myself a monetary lower limit of “hey, if your bank account gets this low and it doesn’t look like the music stuff is pulling in enough cash, you should probably start looking for a day job.”

Well, I hit that limit back in January, and that was when I seriously started considering my options when it comes to jobs. And that’s about all I’ve done on the job front: consider. I haven’t made any inquiries, I haven’t updated my résumé, and I haven’t taken any concrete steps toward finding a day job.

Despite the lack of income, I feel like I’m in a really good place with my music career. I just started playing keys for a band that’s touring throughout the northeast (including Canada) over the course of April, we finally settled on a band name for the band I put together to play my original material, that band just had its first “official” performance at my favorite local songwriting series, and I started teaching music lessons. Granted, I still only have one student, even after making the more public announcement on social media that I’m offering lessons, but it’s still better than nothing.

(I’m hoping I’ll make SOMETHING from the tour dates coming up, but even if I don’t, I genuinely believe the touring experience is invaluable, considering it’s what I want to do with my own band in the future.)

I have enough money saved to last me through at least April & May, but not having a consistent form of income is really beginning to weigh on me. More than that, though, my self-worth has been circling the drain on a variety of fronts. On an intellectual level, I understand that it all goes back to the fact that I’m worried about running out of money, and I understand that it’s okay and LOGICAL to be worried about that. Here’s how my brain is taking that stress and running with it, though:

I frequently perceive my lack of effort toward finding a “regular” job as a sign of some sort of disgusting, deeply-ingrained artistic elitism--“Oh, I shouldn’t settle for some ‘lesser’ job, I’m an artiste.”

Which doesn’t ring true to me or my beliefs, but I sometimes wonder if that’s how others perceive me, when I say I’ve just been doing the music stuff. Which is also bullshit to be worried about, because none of these people know what my circumstances are, and those that do have not shown any signs of thinking I think I’m elitist.

I see the other musicians in the music scene here and frequently feel incredibly inferior to them on a basic level of ability. So many of them are college-trained concert musicians, or started studying music & practicing & performing long before I did, and I feel like there’s no chance I’ll catch up. And my stressed-out brain extrapolates upon this, telling me, “Well, maybe if you were better at your instrument, you’d be more successful, people would be more interested in playing in your band or giving you shows, and you’d actually be in a more REALISTIC place of being able to live off your music career right now.”

Which is bullshit, because I felt musically inferior when I was making a living wage and in a moderately successful band, and nobody (that I know of) judged me on my ability (or lack thereof) to play scales & arpeggios like a concert pianist. Eventually, I got to a point where I realized, “Hey, if the other people in this band are happy with my level of ability, then maybe I don’t need to stress so much about not being virtuoso-level.”

Not only that, but ALL of those musicians I’m envious of--yes, ALL of them--have jobs outside their music career to help support it. (Although that sends me down the “elitist” spiral again--“What, you think you’re above getting a ‘regular’ job? All of the ‘successful’ local musicians you know are doing something in addition to it. Who do you think you are?”)

I’m worried that I started too late in this music scene. So many of the people that are having success have been a part of it for so long already, and while I’ve made connections and developed relationships with people, they’re all already involved with so many other projects. The people who might be available to join my own project, I’m probably not as familiar with, and so it’ll take longer to see if they’re the right fit, and there again, the time lock of my money running out makes me start to feel desperate/panicky about finding the right people ASAP. And then I get stressed out about feeling desperate/panicky, since that won’t create the right environment for developing relationships and making people feel comfortable, and it becomes another stress spiral that feeds itself.

The longer I go without trying to find a day job, the more I seem to develop a mental block against it, and the more reasons my brain comes up with not to even check places I might enjoy working to see if they’re hiring. Some of them are rational, and some of them are not:

There’s a part of me that worries if I get comfortable in a day job, I’ll lose the motivation to push myself when it comes to my music career, and I’ll end up just leveling out or petering out entirely.

There’s another part that worries about if I get involved with a job that taxes me as much as my last job did toward the end, so I end up in the same unhealthy state of being financially secure but emotionally desperate because I’m putting more time and effort into the thing that’s just supposed to support the thing I really care about. Part of the stress there, too, was that my work was really starting to suffer, and so I was stressed out about losing the job because of lack of ability there. And then I stress out again over leaving the job, because hell, who can really turn their back on a steady income except elitist artists with pipe dreams of having a super-successful music career they can live off of?

Part of me wonders how much of this mental block comes from just a lack of experience in the workforce. I’ve had 3 paying “day jobs” in my life. One was working maintenance, which left me feeling miserable due to the long hours and the monotony of the work. One was working the coffeehouse on my college campus, which was fun and honestly a gratifying experience, but I also perceive as being in a basically safe environment, so I can’t imagine any coffeehouse/food service job I get outside of that being quite as fun or fulfilling. And the last was my last job, which I knew from day one wasn’t ideal, but it didn’t turn into a problem until those last few months when they started piling on the work, expecting me to “rise to the challenge,” I suppose, and denying my requests for more help when I clearly wasn’t rising to the challenge.

(I wasn’t looking for advancement or the potential for growth! I just wanted a paycheck I could live off, which I had! Then they had to come in with “trying to build our customer base” and “grow the company,” and I knew, I was like, “That’s great for you guys, but this is going to be terrible for me, isn’t it?” And it was.)

And then there’s the whole ADD thing. The consistent factor in the jobs I had the most trouble with was the time commitment--I had such a hard time focusing for even just a few hours on a single tasks, let alone an entire work day, and that’s part of what led to my exhaustion. At the same time, even after reading up more on ADD and learning about the way the ADD brain works, I still struggle figuring out how to manage it, and I’m constantly struggling to figure out “Okay, is this my ADD, or do I just want to blame this on my ADD because it’s easier to do that than take responsibility for my actions?” So I’m trying to think of what jobs offer shorter hours to accommodate the ADD and flexible scheduling to accommodate the music, and I’m not convinced that finding a job like that isn’t a pipe dream as well.

But I wouldn’t know, because I WON’T DO THE FUCKING RESEARCH, for some irrational reason.

(Ease off, Ian.)

And I’ve never taken medication for my ADD, so part of me thinks I should at least TRY something to see if it’s helpful, but at this point, the money factor comes into play again.

So this is a snapshot of a lot of what’s been going through my brain the past few days/weeks. If nothing else, this has at least been helpful in terms of attempting to bring organization to the chaos in my head.

[gabriellakirtonblog]

How Five Coaches Grew Their Online Business in Difficult Times

The coronavirus hit the fitness industry especially hard.

Gyms closed with little to no warning, leaving trainers scrambling.

But not every coach was devastated. Some earned more money and expanded their businesses.

The following five case studies show you how they did it.

Read them to learn how you too can build a resilient online fitness business that not only survives tough times, but actually thrives.

How to Make Money as an Online Trainer

Case study #1: How a scientist and single mom escaped a toxic work environment to become a successful hybrid coach

Case study #2: How a part-time nutrition coach went from charging $95 a month to $1,500 for three months, and adds a new client every week

Case study #3: How an engineer found meaning in his work as a part-time coach and trained 300-plus clients in 16 countries

Case study #4: How Nelao helps trauma survivors with their fitness through online coaching

Case study #5: How a gym owner increased his income after the pandemic forced him to close his facility

Case study #1: Leanne Salisbury

How a scientist and single mom escaped a toxic work environment to become a successful hybrid coach

It was a slow day at the lab, and Leanne Salisbury asked her boss if she could use an hour of paid time off to take her teenage son to a meeting to help plan his college education.

She thought it was a reasonable request, and was surprised when he said no.

He told her to use the time to defrost the biomedical lab’s freezer, where they kept the ice used to cut the human tissues they tested for cancer and other diseases.

That afternoon she got a call from her son’s school, demanding that she pick him up because he’d been suspended for acting out.

���I broke,” she recalled in an Instagram post. “I told the boss he could kiss my ass, in front of the entire room. I left and had a complete breakdown in my car.”

Because she worked for the National Health Service in Liverpool, England, she wasn’t immediately fired, as she would have been in just about any private-sector job. (“At the NHS, you have to kill about 10 people to get fired,” she jokes.) They let her transfer to another department.

But she knew her life had to change. As she wrote on Instagram, “This was the moment I knew I had to create my own job, live my own life, and stop being everyone else’s puppet.”

From scientist to personal trainer

Fitness was an unlikely career choice for Salisbury. She didn’t even own a pair of sneakers until she was 27.

But then she got a wake-up call.

“One of my friends in the laboratory died of cervical cancer,” she says. “It really made me assess a lot about my life.”

She started running, figuring that “it shouldn’t be too hard to run for 30 minutes without stopping.”

It was. She nearly threw up at the end of a charity 5k run. But the experience made an impression. “That’s one of the first times I saw you can push through,” she says.

In 2013, the year she told her boss to kiss her ass, she got a personal training certification and began coaching clients part-time—first in their homes, then in a studio where she rented space by the hour, and then in a commercial gym, an environment she says she “absolutely hated.”

She left her day job in 2015 with only three months of severance. It was make it or break it time.

Building her client base was “a huge rollercoaster,” she remembers. She’d spend months growing her clientele, then switch venues and have to build it back up again.

Finally, she hit on a solution. Two of them actually:

She opened a fitness studio about 20 minutes from her home.

She turned her son’s bedroom (he had recently moved out) into a workout space for coaching online clients.

The online coaching breakthrough

Salisbury enrolled in the Online Trainer Academy Level 1 Certification course in 2018. She’d been a member of the Online Trainers Unite Facebook group for a while, but resisted making the leap to OTA.

OTA reminds her not to get distracted by shiny objects, she says. “I go back to it all the time. When I feel myself going off on a tangent, I’ll book a call with the coaches.”

Salisbury’s Instagram feed is a masterful example of connecting with clients and prospects by mixing deeply personal admissions of her past struggles with upbeat stories about her current life and work.

Salisbury’s Instagram feed is a masterful example of connecting with clients and prospects by mixing deeply personal admissions of her past struggles with upbeat stories about her current life and work.

One consistent message: Your life doesn’t have to suck. You can choose to make it better.

“I’m not perfect,” she wrote in one post, “but I’m healthier, happier, have more friends, have more fun. … I get to help people all over the world with their food, training and mindset. And I’m really good at it, because I’m sharing the tools that helped me, not just what I listened to in a podcast. I’ve been in that place where it’s all just far too much, you know?”

Case study #2: Jim Gazzale

How a part-time nutrition coach went from charging $95 a month to $1,500 for three months, and adds a new client every week

From the outside, Jim Gazzale appeared to be a successful online trainer.

His Facebook description of his business—“I help moms over 40 lose up to 20 pounds in 12 weeks by drinking wine and eating whatever they want”—seems irresistible. His website shows a suite of services encompassing strength, endurance, nutrition, and lifestyle coaching.

What you couldn’t see was a struggling part-time nutrition coach who made so little profit from coaching that he wasn’t sure if he could afford to continue.

His day job was safe and steady. But it wasn’t enough to support his young and growing family.

If he couldn’t generate more income from coaching, he’d have to find another part-time job.

But instead of giving up, he doubled down, stretching his finances to the limit to learn a more profitable system to train clients.

The evolution of an unlikely nutrition coach

Gazzale and his wife, Karen, are broadcast journalists.

As an on-air talent, Karen had plenty of incentive to stay in shape. But Jim had never found a fitness or diet regimen he could stick with. “I knew I was overweight,” he says. “I would follow her to a workout here or there. But I hated it.”

He found his motivation in 2015, when they joined a gym with the goal of getting in shape for their wedding. And he stayed with the program after the wedding, even though the results were disappointing.

That all changed in early 2016, when they hired the owner of the gym to be their nutrition coach.

“I followed it to the letter and got absolutely shredded,” he says. “That opened my mind to what’s possible. I was strong, I was confident, I was fearless. It was really a life-changing thing.”

It was so life-changing that he and Karen decided to help other people change their own lives. They get certified through Precision Nutrition, set up a website, and waited for clients to find them.

They quickly realized it takes a lot more than the desire to help people. It only works when you combine your knowledge and good intentions with marketing and business development.

Finding an online training model that works

Thinking “how hard could this online coaching thing be?” (sound familiar?), they spent that year “trying to build the business flying by the seat of our pants,” Gazzale recalls. “We took our lumps early on trying to figure the whole thing out.”

They had what looked like a breakthrough in 2018, when they helped a woman with a big Instagram following lose weight. Her story brought in 30 clients virtually overnight.

“But I didn’t have a way to service them,” Gazzale says. “After a few weeks, they all kind of dropped off.”

That’s when he started looking at the Online Trainer Academy.

“We were living paycheck to paycheck, sometimes even operating in the red,” he says.

“I knew I had to get a part-time job. Why would I want to spend my time doing something I didn’t enjoy? That’s where the impetus to make this a profitable business took shape.”

Gazzale saved his pennies, and enrolled in OTA, and never looked back.

Balancing a family, a full-time job, and part-time nutrition coaching gig required structure that Gazzale couldn’t build on his own. He leaned into OTA for help and hasn’t looked back.

“Having a structure in place was the biggest thing I got from OTA,” he says. “Some months were better than others, but I was confident it could grow over time, rather than fizzling out like that influx we saw in 2018.”

It was working, but not as well as it could have.

The problem, he says, is that the business “was structured to always be a side hustle.” Each of his clients paid about $95 a month for a la carte services, which meant each of them required more or less the same amount of attention.

He needed a way to scale it up so he could coach more clients in the same amount of time. To do that, he decided to once again stretch his finances to the breaking point.

How a high-ticket coaching program pays off

Gazzale was one of the first coaches to be accepted into the Online Trainer Academy Level 2. He had to spread the enrollment fee over three different credit cards and bank accounts.

Level 2 teaches coaches how to create, market, and operate a premium coaching service. It’s for online coaches who already have a strong foundation, either from OTA Level 1 or somewhere else. His clients now pay $1,500 for the 12-week program, and he’s been adding four to five new ones a month.

He’s also learned to follow the same advice he gives his clients. Be patient. Be consistent.

“I have to remind myself to replay the conversations I have with clients and apply them to myself,” he says. “It’s why I’ve had a good run of success lately.”

Case study #3: Gil Mesina

How an engineer found meaning in his work as a part-time coach and trained 340-plus clients in 19 countries

Gil Mesina is an electrical engineer, a job he’s been doing for 20 years and counting.

It’s the kind of steady, high-paying gig a lot of people fantasize about, especially if they happen to be math nerds with boatloads of student debt.

“It’s a great job, with great people,” he says.

But …?

“Fitness is my true passion.”

It just took him a while to figure out how to act on it.

From dancer to online trainer

Mesina met his future wife through bachata, a Dominican dance style, where they competed internationally. His passion for fitness emerged when he got in peak shape for their final contest.

By then he was on the cusp of 40 years old, and the grind of training for competition had taken the fun out of dancing. But he’d found a new calling.

“Dancers started coming up to me and asking me to help them,” he says.

In early 2016, he trained four male friends from the dance world—all online, all for free. (To this day he’s never trained anyone in person.)

“One of the guys said, you should try it with females,” he remembers. The four women he recruited helped him launch a thriving online training business.

Mesina’s first four clients. (His wife is in the middle.) After showcasing their results, Mesina says, “a lot of people started reaching out.”

He began running groups for 10 to 15 clients, and their results led to even more referrals.

Now that it was a business, he looked for ways to run it more efficiently. John Berardi, cofounder of Precision Nutrition, told him about Jonathan Goodman and the Online Trainer Academy.

“What I saw from Jon and his tribe is no-nonsense,” he says. “There’s a trust factor because I never felt Jon was there to sell to me. He never said ‘buy, buy, buy.’”

Mesina launches four 12-week group challenges each year, using the same basic program each time. After averaging 20 clients per group, recent challenges have brought in about 30.

His marketing is mainly word of mouth, much of it generated when he shares his clients’ before-and-after photos and testimonials on Facebook. “Just do a damned good job, and make sure everybody knows about it,” he says, quoting one of Goodman’s favorite exhortations.

Until recently, he’d never considered training clients who want to continue beyond the 12-week challenge, even though the demand was there. “My philosophy was, after 12 weeks, you’re done with me. You’re good to go.”

Soon after COVID-19 hit, the OTA coaches convinced him to add a “legacy” group.

Training those clients along with his challenge groups would seem to be a full-time job, but Mesina still manages to run it in his spare time.

“A lot of it is already automated, so it doesn’t take as much time as people think,” he explains. As for the legacy clients, “They don’t need as much hand-holding because they know how it works in terms of accountability.”

That said, he is considering his exit strategy from his original career. “It’s something I’m working toward,” he says.

“The engineering job is still really good. But fitness is my passion.”

Case study #4: Nelao Nengola

How Nelao helps trauma survivors with their fitness through online coaching

“I didn’t ask to be in this stupid-ass survivors club,” Nelao Nengola once said in a powerful video. “I didn’t sign up for lifelong depression.”

What she survived is a sexual assault when she was a high school student in Namibia.

Until recently, she wasn’t sure how to address the attack that so profoundly changed her life. She first shared her story a few years ago, but stopped when she realized she wasn’t ready.

“I used to think you heal by telling,” she says. “But I realized not everyone deserves to hear your story.”

Nengola decided to start sharing it again when she discovered an audience who deserved to hear it: assault survivors interested in fitness.

It made perfect sense.

Like many survivors, she rapidly gained weight following the assault, part of a downward spiral both caused by and feeding depression.

Running, Pilates, and eventually strength training helped her regain some control over her body and emotions. She got certified as a personal trainer shortly after.

Building a career beyond borders

Namibia is a big country with a small population.

The challenges, though, go far beyond population. Sub-Saharan Africa has the world’s most extreme income inequality. That means every fitness pro competes for the small handful of people who can afford to pay for personal training.

Nengola started out in a franchise gym in Windhoek, the capital, but left that job after three months to open her own training studio.

“It was awful,” she says. “I was training from 5 in the morning until almost 10 in the evening sometimes. I loved what I did, but I had no energy for anything else at all.”

By the time she closed the studio, after two and a half years, she was deep in debt and looking for a way to survive as a personal trainer. For a while she ran group fitness classes in a gym owned by a prominent local businessman. But the early morning hours “reminded me of all the things I hated about training.”

Online training was the obvious answer. She signed up for the Online Trainer Academy within a week of finding it. “It seemed to be exactly what I was looking for,” she says.

Nengola in her home, where she now runs her online business—filming workouts, coaching clients, and creating content.

That’s when she realized there was a natural audience for her message, if she was willing to start sharing again.

“When I asked myself who I’m best suited to serve, and what would be in line with my purpose, it was trauma survivors,” she says. “Fitness is what pulled me out of my dark place. Why shouldn’t I teach other women that they can do this as well?”

She currently has online clients on three different continents—North America, Europe, and Africa—and no longer trains anyone in person.

“The way I see trainers here grinding, I could never go back to that,” she says.

Case study #5: Jesus Acuna

How a gym owner increased his income after the pandemic forced him to close his facility

Timing is a mysterious thing.

If you try to do the perfect thing at the perfect time, odds are you’ll fail. The only way to ensure success is to put things in place before cataclysmic events happen so when they do, you’re prepared.

Perhaps this is why Jesus Acuna, owner of Resilient Fitness in Tucson, Arizona, has the most appropriate gym name in history.

On March 13, he got the call to shut down his gym because of the pandemic.

“That was a punch in the gut,” he says. “They gave us maybe eight hours’ notice. I didn’t sleep that night.”

But when he got up the next morning, he realized it might actually be a blessing in disguise.

An injury, weight gain, and busting his butt in the gym

Acuna started lifting as a high school football player in Tucson. “The technique was crap,” he acknowledges. “But the idea was, if you bust your ass in the gym, you’ll beat the other guys.”

A shoulder injury and corresponding recovery caused him to gain 40 pounds. And he continued packing it on after he returned to the weight room.

By his senior year of college, he estimates he weighed 300 pounds—more than 100 pounds above his pre-surgery weight.

That led to his lowest moment. While training a group of young athletes, one of them said, “Hey, I bet your fat ass can’t do this. Why are you making us do it?”

He lost 20 pounds the next month, on his way to losing all the weight he’d gained.

The next 10 years were the typical grind—five years as an independent trainer, followed by five at a powerlifting gym, which he eventually managed.

In July 2019 he opened his own studio gym with two clear goals:

“I had to be able to make the money I wanted to make.”

“I had to do it on my own time.”

And for the first seven months, it worked exactly as he planned. He got to the gym at 9 a.m., went home at 7 p.m., and made $7,500 a month “working as much as I allowed myself to.”

The only problem was, his business was already maxed out, and didn’t know how to ramp up.

When preparation meets opportunity

At a fitness event in 2011, someone recommended Ignite the Fire, Jonathan Goodman’s first book. Acuna read it, started following the PTDC, enrolled in 1K Extra (the precursor to the Online Trainer Academy), and eventually became a Certified Online Trainer.

But online training was still a small part of his business in January 2020. His gym was going well and, like so many of us, he had no idea what was about to happen.

When he got the pandemic shutdown announcement and suffered through that sleepless night, he saw the solution right there on his computer screen. Why couldn’t he offer his group workouts on Zoom?

He contacted his gym members and told them the new plan. “Maybe four or five clients said, ‘Hey, we’re going to stop,’” Acuna says. But the rest of them thanked him for setting up the online system and not leaving them to figure it out for themselves.

In March, 2020, when the first shutdown happened, he made $10,000 online. (The most he had ever made with his studio before the pandemic was $8,000 a month.)

His income rose to $11,000 in April and to $12,000 in August. Through all the twists and turns, with his gym reopening and then closing again, his revenue has remained higher than it was before the pandemic upended his business.

More important, he found a workable model that allowed him to grow his business without canceling his life.

It worked because he was prepared (even if he didn’t quite realize it at the time), and the result is more profit without sacrificing any time with his family.

The Acuna family repping the Resilient Fitness brand.

But there’s one more twist to the story.

On June 27—Father’s Day—Acuna noticed he was struggling to breathe.

He assumed it was because of a wildfire in the local mountains.

When he woke up the next morning, the breathing difficulty was accompanied by a migraine and aching joints. “I felt like I was hit by a truck,” he says. A test confirmed that he had COVID-19.

He was flat on his back for the first three days, and mostly out of commission that first week.

He started taking walks the second week, and thought he was healthy enough to train the third week. The headaches convinced him to wait another week. “I started lifting heavy again, and felt fine,” he says.

His three weeks of illness and recovery are a wakeup call to all the fitness pros who believe young, fit, healthy people are somehow immune.

“People reached out and said, ‘You’re the healthiest guy we know!’” Acuna recalls. If he could get this illness, anyone can.

But he knows it could’ve been worse.

“When I was 300 pounds, I used an inhaler daily,” he says. “I had asthma. Getting COVID in that condition would’ve ruined me. I have no doubt about it.”

Acuna didn’t know that he’d contract a potentially deadly disease when he lost all that weight. But the fact he prepared his body may have saved his life, just as his OTA certification prepared his business for a potentially catastrophic closure.

It’s a double endorsement for the value of preparation meeting opportunity. And it illustrates how smart it was to call his gym Resilient Fitness.

    If You’re an Online Trainer, or Want to Be …

You can’t move forward in your career until you learn how to coach fitness and nutrition online responsibly, effectively, efficiently, and confidently.

If you’d like to get ahead, and stay ahead, consider enrolling in the Online Trainer Academy Level 1 Certification.

If you’re already training clients online, making more than $1,000 a month, and looking for a more scalable business model, you may be a better fit for the Online Trainer Academy Level 2.

      The post How Five Coaches Grew Their Online Business in Difficult Times appeared first on The PTDC.

How Five Coaches Grew Their Online Business in Difficult Times published first on https://onezeroonesarms.tumblr.com/

[bound-by-reality]

I think we need to talk about something:

This ended up being longer than I intended, once I started I couldn't stop, I'm sorry. TLDR: check in on all of your essential worker friends. We're not okay.

Non Essential, Essential Workers. I'm talking retail stores (not grocery stores), coffee shops, etc. and I know this varies state to state depending on what stay at home orders you have, but;

If you're working in a place like this it is a rollercoaster of emotions and you feel all of them at the same time. When I mention "actual" essential workers, I mean grocery store, gas stations, anyone who's job is required to keep society and communities running. This post is about everyone else labeled "Essential" because their jobs found a way to stay open just because they could.

1. We are told we need to be grateful for having a job (which most of us are thankful for the steady income) but in turn means we can't be upset for risking our lives?

2. We get the social outlet of coworkers and customers that most don't while isolating which is nice but again... our lives?

3. Most companies like this do not provide proper protection for the employees and ultimately seem like they don't care if we live or die.

For example, my work was a location for census fingerprinting, because of that they mentioned having us order gloves; however, they set the site up wrong so none of us could order. A week or so later they suspended the fingerprinting but we never heard anything else about gloves. Eventually we had to buy our own gloves from other stores. Our company just provided us gloves and masks within the past week - week and a half (today is 04/24). Before that we just followed CDC guidelines for social distancing and cleaning as best we could. They did also provide us plexi shields recently which... doesn't help as we have to scan most large items around it anyway and I'm convinced was just actually a selling tool as we now advertise that businesses can buy the shields through us. They did start supplying us with some cleaning supplies but told us to store use the supplies we needed from our truck inventory before it was put out as it was being bought too quickly for us to get any.

Make sure to remember, how companies handle this is entirely up to each individual company despite the stay at home orders. For example, one direct competing company to ours has entirely closed and is doing curbside only, the other reduced their hours to be open 11-7 and closed on Sundays. Our work? We switched from being open 8-9 and are now open 9-8. They took off our two slowest hours and sent out a mass email discussing what they're doing to keep customers and employees safe and stated "We've reduced our hours" with NO explanation of that reduction specifically to look good. It was infuriating.

Hazard pay is also a companies choice and even the companies that do offer can do you so dirty. A friend if mine works for a company who offered an additional $2 an hour in hazard pay and then taxed it at 40%.

My company is doing curbside pick up as well along with walk-in, but did not provide any extra pay or hour reduction to compensate for the additional work, and that we have to drop what we're doing to run the orders outside. (They also mentioned we'll become personal shoppers with no added pay but that hasn't been rolled out yet so who knows)

Most retail companies like this will provide what they need to because they are forced, to look good, or for their personal gain.

4. We deal with customers coming in to browse because they're bored and have to smile for "customer satisfaction" when what they're really saying is "I don't care enough about your life to stay home. Where are your pens?"

And don't get me started on people complaining about our suspended return policy. I get being out that money SUCKS (as someone who lives paycheck to paycheck, I get what not having that money could mean) but we are not the only store implementing this type of policy and you should take it into consideration before buying anything from anywhere right now.

Not to mention my tolerance for customers is at zero. I've actively noticed I'm not being as friendly, and not in a rude way, but in a, normally I would repeat this 4 times for you while you scream at me but there's a pandemic and I'm worth more than you telling me I'm stupid because you don't understand how online shopping works so I'm hanging up now, way.

5. As someone who already struggles with mental illness, I don't know about other people but working right now is like an alternate reality? When I'm home I feel normal and almost okay but at work surrounded by masks, gloves, and constant reminders of a deadly illness I feel like I'm living in two worlds. Physically being in the building is growing harder too. I'll be in a good mood but the second I step into work everything drops and everything in me tells me to leave. I cannot imagine what it must feel like for front line workers and actual Essential workers. My heart goes out to you.

6. This is being talked about a bit more now I feel like, but, most of us have no choice but to work. Most retail locations do not offer paid sick time, so if you get sick and need to take off work, the new bills that were passed will help, but your work will not. Most retail places make you use personal PTO or sick leave as payment and once it's gone, it's gone. Because of this, I don't DARE take Leave of Abscense to self quarantine in case I do get sick and end up needing all of the income I can get. Our choices usually end up being, go into work where you are not "actually" essential, and risk getting sick or spreading to someone who gets sick, OR stay home, stay safe, and don't have the money needed to survive.

People working retail jobs like this will not qualify for unemployment benefits unless they are furloughed or laid off specifically due to Covid-19. It puts us in limbo. Not to mention that more often than not, people who do qualify for unemployment are making more than us right now. Unemployment is about $600 a week. I bring home about $800 every 2 weeks and that's in a DECENT paying position, most people do not make even that.

7. I'm getting so jealous and short tempered with people complaining about being bored in quarantine. Do not get me wrong, I sympathize and understand, it would be hard if I were there too. You guys do not have social outlets, it's bad for mental health, staying productive and entertained is hard. That being said, do you know how much I would give to be in that position? I want so badly for my biggest problem right now to be that I'm bored. I see all of these creative things you guys are doing right now and wish that I had that time and motivation! I struggle with that on my normal days off but now, forget it. Any day off I have I am emotionally 10x more exhausted than normal. Please, please, please understand the advantage of what you have right now, especially if you're working from home and have the best of both worlds. Anytime someone mentions they wish they were in your shoes do not say "at least you have a job" lightly.

8. I in no way, shape, or form want to take away the gratitude from front line workers, first responders, health care workers, and "actual" essential workers, but please remember to thank us too. Everyone mentioning "Essential workers" highlights those AS THEY SHOULD, but no one really talks about the companies staying open because they found a loop hole and their employees have to work. We are risking our lives too.

Before you mention that stores have to stay open or they will close for good, I understand, and I'm sympathetic to that! A lot of small businesses are struggling right now, please help them any way you can. Reach out to the businesses and see if you can purchase a gift card to come back at a later date! Do whatever you can!

Larger chain/ retail businesses facing the same problem also need to do what they can. That being said, if you cannot provide proper care or compensation to the employees that work for you than you need 👏 to 👏 make 👏 adjustments.

Again, I'm sorry this turned out so long but I've been obsessing about these topics for so long now and I needed to void scream. If you took the time to read this thank you for indulging me, let me know if any of you are experiencing the same thing!

I hope everyone is staying as safe and sane as possible. Please reach out to anyone you can if you need help.

❤💜🧡💙💚🖤

[bettydgunter90]

How to Dominate Your Market As A House Wholesaler

When you’re starting out as a real estate wholesaler, you only need a staff of one.

With a little luck and patience, you’ll land some deals and make some money. But if you want to go beyond scratching the surface to pursue growth and success, you’ll have to expand your workforce.

Why can’t you do it alone forever? Ask the clock. Your limited time needs to be spent talking to sellers and arranging deals. Big picture, that means you won’t have the time to drive around looking for new properties — and you won’t be able to scale effectively, as a result.

This is actually a good problem to have because it means you’re experiencing upward momentum. The big challenge, then, is deciding which activities to outsource for help. One of the simplest — and most meaningful — is the responsibility of driving around and looking for potential gold mines in the form of run-down, abandoned, or distressed properties located in well-performing neighborhoods.

RELATED: What is “Driving for Dollars” and How Does it Work?

In other words, you need to find, hire, train, and manage a team of people to go out and be your boots on the ground — or, rather, tires on the road.

Why You Should Hire Drivers

You might feel nervous at the thought of suddenly becoming a boss. Taking on the role of head honcho may seem overwhelming, but it’s doable, even if you’re inexperienced in the art of supervision.

It’s more lucrative to pay part-time drivers to find deals than it is to purchase mailing lists and send requests to random homeowners. In general, if you buy 1,000 names in bulk and work those leads, you might be able to snag one deal. That’s a .01% conversion rate. But sending your own drivers to be scouts allows you to be more selective. When you do it this way, one deal usually comes from every 200 canvassed homes. In other words, your conversion rate rises to .05%, raising your odds of success to about five times what it was.

Drivers will send you properties that meet your criteria, which you can compile into a unique list that no other real estate wholesaler will have. You’ll have fewer competitors vying for prospects’ attention. If you depend on a list that everyone else uses, too, you’ll never feel that peace of mind. Essentially, your drivers will be your secret weapon.

Best of all, amassing a cohort of responsible drivers doesn’t have to be complicated. You probably know some of your future team members already, which means the only thing holding you back is taking the first step.

Step 1: Finding Dependable Drivers

Sometimes, people get caught up in their fears about delegating work. There are a lot of questions.

How will I know they’re not faking what they do?

How do I keep everyone from driving the same routes and sending me to duplicate addresses?

How do I pick the best people for the job?

Suffice it to say that if you hire the most eager, dependable people at the onset and structure your pay well, you won’t come up against many of these concerns.

RELATED: It’s Time to Fire Yourself From Your Real Estate Business

Start by connecting with the people closest to you, like trustworthy family members and friends. All of your drivers will need to be licensed and insured, as well as own a cellphone. Recruit them by either talking with them in person, sending them a quick text, or getting in touch on social media to let them know you need drivers. If they don’t have an interest in joining your team, ask whether they know someone who might.

You can also use your social platform to reach friends and followers who are seeking part-time employment or looking for a side hustle to pay the bills. Your driver might work 30 hours a week but will have the total freedom to control when and how he or she gets the job done. Think like an advertiser and whip up some clever headlines to grab potential drivers’ attention. To stand out, you can even use:

Images

Videos

Funny GIFs

Emojis

Just make sure your messages include a call to action that prompts people to head to your landing page, send you a text or email, or give you a call

“Hey so-and-so, quick question for you. 😊 As you know, I’m a real estate investor. I’m looking to pay for someone to help me look for houses that look like they need a little maintenance. If you see any, would you be interested in taking a quick picture of it for me and getting paid?”

Beyond that, you can just ask people for help as long as you don’t have a problem with approaching strangers or acquaintances. Who knows? Your mailman could be a great driver. Talk to him. Paint the whole picture of how you’d like to work together. Don’t be shy, and don’t hold back. Picture yourself as a persuasive storyteller, and be sure to bring evidence that you have a thriving business he’ll want to be part of.

Speaking of thriving, driver candidates will inevitably (and rightfully) ask you about compensation. That said, you’ll need to set up a payment system that’s going to work for everyone. Don’t get concerned yet, though. Even if you’re low on cash, you have some great options.

Step 2: Paying Your Drivers

Treating your drivers well means setting up a payment structure that ensures they get their money on time and as expected. Three payment arrangements tend to work extremely well:

Pay a certain amount for every approved real estate deal. This could be a flat fee or a percentage of the net. Figure out what you can afford to offer, and set up a tracking system so your drivers know when a property they recommended converts to cash. This works well for family members and friends who are fine with deferred payment because they know you’re honest.

Pay your drivers the old-fashioned way with an hourly wage. People looking for steady paychecks will appreciate getting money every week without fail. The only downside is that you’ll need to have dollars on hand to keep everything flowing. Plus, this structure would mean you’d need to more actively manage drivers to ensure that they’re driving in places most likely to bring in warm or hot leads and maximizing their time.

Pay your drivers every time they send you a viable lead. Again, this isn’t ideal for those who are relying on you to help cover weekly or monthly bills. It’s relatively unpredictable in terms of the frequency at which you’ll get leads, but it could be an incentive for your drivers to constantly follow different routes and find good properties.

Some people have their drivers work 35 hours a week and pay them by the hour. Others will pay them per deal and have 175 out on the road. There’s no specific formula — just whatever works best for you. I like paying one person by the hour for the sake of consistency, but many people like to have quite a few drivers on the road hunting for properties.

Whichever payment structure you decide is best for you and your team, remember that your drivers are independent contractors, not full-time employees. You won’t reimburse gas or meals. Instead, you’ll find a payment structure that makes the most sense.

RELATED: DealMachine Review: So Simple, Even Your Kids Can Do It

And incentives? If you’re paying $15 per hour, don’t worry about them! Drivers already value this kind of guaranteed paycheck. But if you’re paying less than $12 per hour — or not hourly at all — it’s a good idea to offer them something extra to sweeten the pot. Give your drivers a reason to stick around. This might look like paying them 50 cents to a dollar for every property they submit; if one closes, there might be a bonus attached. Incentives like this let drivers get money immediately and that will ultimately contribute to your success.

Once you finalize your pay setup, arrange for a service to help you coordinate payment disbursements. PayPal and Venmo are top-performing platforms to keep everyone on track. They also let you print statements so you can track your expenses. Budgeting and doing taxes is so much easier when you can download a PDF of the payments you made to drivers.

Step 3: Formalizing Work Relationships With Drivers

A handshake used to be all you needed to make an agreement, but times have changed. Now, you have to get your relationship with drivers in writing. This not only protects you, but it also protects them.

Use this sample contractor agreement as a springboard, adding language as needed to flesh out the details. Ask your attorney to double-check that this agreement includes everything.

Remember, your drivers may not be used to being third-party contractors. Explain everything in the contract (e.g., they’re in charge of paying taxes on their earnings). Giving drivers the scoop on their responsibilities from the beginning should minimize the chances of misunderstandings down the road.

One more note before we move on: Be sure to keep copies of any signed contracts for your records. You may even want to scan them to a cloud-based server to eliminate the possibility of them getting lost.

RELATED: How to Stay Organized (Tour My Paperless Dropbox Filing System)

Step 4: Training Your Drivers to Succeed

At this point, you may be so familiar with which properties are good candidates for deals that you can practically find them with a quick glance. Never assume that your new drivers will have this kind of innate ability, though.

You’ll need to spend time onboarding all your drivers so they understand their duties. They should know the best locations to drive, the types of properties you want them to select, and how to further vet homes after spotting one that seems to fit the bill. Start by creating an online checklist or use the DealMachine app to clarify the requirements all properties should meet.

Here are a few key things to have your drivers look out for:

Neglected landscaping

Disrepair and a need for updates

Clear signs of vacancy

For full-time drivers, training should probably take about a week. They’re not talking to customers or learning anything too complicated. Here’s a rough outline of what that training week might look like:

Day 1: Have your drivers go out on the road and get started on their own. They should be finding properties within 24 hours.

Day 2: Start having them focus on a certain area. Once they spend the first day scouting, you can help them dial in their skills in more specific locations.

Day 3: Review properties with your new drivers. This will give them an idea of whether the properties they find fit your criteria.

Day 4: Show them how to track their drives, leave notes on properties, and tag the deals that stand out to them.

Although it’s tempting to do this kind of training over the phone, via Google Hangouts, or at the coffee shop, nothing works as well as going on trial runs — assuming you’ve properly vetted drivers during the interview process.

While this will take up a little bit of your time, heading out with your newest driver in your own vehicle will be the most hands-on training you can provide. It also gives you the chance to direct the driver’s attention to the right areas and properties. He or she will remember the experience and be able to better emulate it when riding solo.

Step 5: Managing Your Driving Squad Long Term

Your drivers are on the streets and sending in leads. Super! But your role in onboarding isn’t finished yet. Every few weeks, you should review each individuals’ performance and results. This will help you see who is doing really well and who might be falling behind.

If you think certain drivers aren’t meeting performance standards, compare the number of deals they scouted this week to the number they found the week before. You can even compare their deals from last month to their deals this month. Ideally, the numbers will either be getting higher or staying the same. If you notice a dip, be proactive and reach out to keep them from lagging behind. Intervening before things go downhill makes more sense than waiting months to discover that a driver you’ve paid hourly hasn’t been living up to expectations.

As a manager, be sure to celebrate and share your drivers’ real estate hits. Set up a Facebook (or other social media) group specifically for you and your driving squad. When one of them gets a big payday, thanks to a closed deal, announce it on the site. People will get excited when they realize that they could be the next individual hitting the wholesaling jackpot.

And because your drivers are like a roving sales team, use sales incentive techniques (depending on your pay structure) to keep their spirits high. People working on commission sometimes lose their edge if you don’t stay top of mind. It doesn’t cost much to motivate your drivers if you enter each into a raffle to win something like an iPad once every period. When you have a winner, take and share a picture of him or her using the prize to snap an image of a property that meets your criteria.

Scaling Up and Cashing In

Over time, your drivers will become a vital part of your wholesaling business. One of them might even fall in love with the business so much that you join forces as equal partners and grow even more. That’s a good thing for your bank account and for the community around you.

Make the first move and start delegating. Little by little, you’ll work your way to having a solid team of drivers whose individual dedication leads to your collective success.

David Lecko is the CEO of DealMachine, an app that helps real estate investors contact property owners of off-market properties through direct mail, email, and phone by simply taking a picture of any house.

The post How to Dominate Your Market As A House Wholesaler appeared first on REtipster.

from Real Estate Tips https://retipster.com/scaling-house-wholesaling/