Tomorrow's Post: Why Trump is Hitler 2.0
Tonight's Post:
I'm scared. Not just of losing a place to live. But because my mother, the strongest person I know, is cracking.
Workman's Comp debacle.
The inability to find good work.
The housing debacle.
The possibility of having to return to my father.
We all only have so much oomph in us.
If she does anything drastic while I'm here, trapped on an overnight shift...
I'm more scared then I've ever been.
Am alive but post shall be brief as I forgot my charger. So hello and tomorrow expect new fic.
So I've been working on original fiction drabble. One of these narratives is already on this blog. Off hand I mentioned to Dad when I finished some short stories I'd link him.
It only occurred to me afterwards he really shouldn't wander around Magnus Chronicles. Thus a secondary blog is in the works for my fiction.
Don't worry though! I'll continue posting my short stuff here too.
I have at last been on all the boats. The Island Home Ferry is the nicest. It has the best layout, and the best kitchen.
I think todays interview went okay.
I think.
Meghan Trainor. Independent artist who rose to fame and success. Personally I love her music. But then I noticed on her pink cd Title she also produced her first album. That meant a lot of money.
I found out recently she grew up on Nantucket. For those of you unaware, Cape Cod is a region of Massachusetts where the 1% population has summer homes, and these consist of over half the properties.
Nantucket is where the 1% of the 1% live.
So Miss Trainor is an amazing artist. But not an American Cinderella story. She haf a hell of a head start.
(Kind of like Trump calls a million dollars a small loan).
I have been living on Cape Cod since May after I graduated college with a Bachelor's Degree, renting a room (I've come to realize illegally) in a private residence.
When I first met my potential land lady she seemed like a nice old lady. She invited Mom and I to Easter Dinner with the family. Which was nice.
I told her about my hamsters, all three of them. She told me I would have use of one bedroom and the conjoining closet. As a tenant I would have rights to the kitchen and laundry.
After I told my late land lady I was moving out and began to settle in, it all fell to pieces.
She decided she didn't like how much stuff I was bringing in from the car. She swore I only told her I had two hamsters. Laundry was never included. I only had half the closet.
The list goes on.
Naturally my mother and I (we rent independently from each other in the same house) have been trying to find elsewhere to live since.
There was false hope given for a time, but we have been home hunting since October. Combined my mother and I can afford rent of 1200 a month, slightly more if utilities are included.
We both have full time work and competitive pay for the area.
We have been home hunting for five months. We have been shown illegal, sketchy, inconsistent, and pitifully small homes. We have dealt with "apartments" without their own entrances that were the second floor of a house with a "kitchen" that was a mini fridge, a single electric range, and a crock pot. We have been confronted with a land lady who insulted us, implied I would get knocked up, said she didn't want drama like ambulances driving into the lot, emphasized the men around to open jars for us, demanded we tend to her rose bush and weed the garden, and insisted we slide $1100 a month in cash in an envelope through her mail slot, even though she wasn't around that often.
Last month we were passively rejected for an apartment after having to pay 100 in application fees. While we waited to hear word on the 1250 a month apartment, the ad was posted back on Craigslist. He didn't even have the decency to tell us he decided against us. The reason? Because we couldn't move in right away (a week or less).
(This was the second time we encountered the insanity of someone wanting tenants who could move on instantly)
Most recently my mother and I were turned down for a cottage because the renter knew one of the other applicants through a common friend and the other roommate offered to trim her dog's nails.
Honestly I was most insulted with her need to explain, and that this happened when she wrote to me about our house wanted ad.
Mom has contacted various housing authorities on Cape Cod. Their suggestions have been to check Craigslist (we do, daily) or to relocate back off the Cape because we shouldn't expect to afford Cape Cod Rent on the average Cape Cod Salary.
Yes you read that correctly. When I spoke to my nurse practitioner and mentioned a lack of affordable housing, she referred to a "certain element that sort of thing draws".
You know, essential personnel like nurses, cops, teachers, and firemen. Once I went to Walgreens and learned all of their pharmacists lived over an hour and a half away, off the cape.
Cape Cod belongs to the rich. They own most of the properties as second homes for Summer Getaways. An all too common ad I find looking for a place to live is "winter rental", meaning September to June (if you're lucky) so the renter can move in for the summer or else rent by the week. Even more annoying, these are rarely posted in the short term section of Craigslist.
My mother contacted a congressman's office. The run down is that they can offer contractors incentives to build low income and affordable housing, but the towns in Cape Cod constantly refuse to let them build lest the already existing properties lose value.
Basically this is like saying no you can't have a prepaid flip phone because then my iPhone 6 may lose value.
Side note, Sandwich considers 1800 dollars a month affordable housing.
I don't think enough people realize this is happening. Even less understand how severe and wide spread it is.
We hear around from the workers of Cape Cod-receptionists, wait staff, cashiers-this is all too common. The majority of the year round population still lives with their parents, hoping to inherit the house. Not because they want to but because there are literally no options, and these people are the life blood of Cape Cod.
People like my nurse practitioner have been above the poverty line so long and so much they no longer acknowledge that the people below it are not there because they are lazy or stupid.
Or worse, those of us who fall just above the poverty line but very much under middle lower or upper lower class.
Because my mother and I realized too late we were renting illegally, we can't protest our situations because we have no legal renter rights. The facts are we have no right to laundry and to leave a spoon out of place in the kitchen causes enough lecturing and yelling that I have opted to gain 30 pounds rather then eat a well balanced diet. My mother rents the attic, which has only one exit access, no insulation, three or four leaks in the ceiling, and a ceiling light activated by screwing or unscrewing the bulb. The stairs lack a rail. The solution offered to the cold situation (note: New England winters are brutal) was that Mom keep her door open so somehow heat from the radiator two floors below would somehow maneuver around two winding staircases and warm her room.
There are now six residents, and we are down to one working toliet. The other will probably be fixed after the wifi which is to say never.
Additionally there is black mold. We are not sure where only that it exasperated my health so badly that I began to suffer a gasping Cough the ER doctors believed to be Asthma or Whooping Cough (both tests were negative and my lungs clear of fluids).
I am now taking over the counter allergy meds on a near daily basis.
This is why I say the American Dream of rising to be even moderately okay is dead. My mother and I work our hardest, seek out better employment with higher pay constantly, and we are trapped in an illegal house share that is literally threatening my life.
All because there isn't enough reasonable housing available on Cape Cod for two honest and hard working adults.
Because we can't move in 2 days after we see a place.
Because we can't find more then 1200 a month without risking food expenses.
Because we already are risking food expenses if anything goes wrong.
Because a upper class land owner fears his six bedroom summer home on the beach will lose value if a lower class member of the community can afford to live in the same town.
One week later and nothing has changed. We were turned down for the cottage because someone else offered to trim the renters dogs nails if they gave it to them.
Peter Pan is still causing havoc.
And in a whole week there have been few to no apartment listings. Less in our range.
I never realized I hated this place before. I knew I didn't like it.
The Housing Authority's suggestion?
Return to the North Shore. Uproot our entire lives because the towns keep rejecting affordable housing like it will give them cooties.
Mom has come around. She realizes my future is in Texas.
I guess that's what is keeping me going right now. Hope for a future.
Away from here.
Shit is fucked up when I consider running back to Jersey.
I am getting ready to leave Texas. It's sad to go but I also carry hope in my chest, in my heart.
In a few days I have an interview for a bank position. Mom and I are being considered for a decent sized cottage. Life is good.
And all doubts I had about a future down here are gone. The energies in my love's homeland put me at ease. She puts me at ease. I had a premonition, as silly as it sounds. Of someday laying beside her while the fur kids curl up wherever they can find space, and myself sporting a small baby bump.
They are my future. My Dragon Knight. Yeah, Texas is far away. But it's alsp huge and diverse and people are open and honest. To be honest if I have to deal with hate I'd rather it be in my face.
I am disenchanted with Massachusetts these days. Work is a Bitch to find. Work you can live off near impossible. Finding a place to live? Diety of your choice help you.
But that's the nation at the moment. Affordable housing is a term that leaves a foul taste in people's mouths. They assume it leads to drug dealers and pimps and their clientelle. Fact is the drug dealers and pimps can afford places to live a lot fancier then honest people like Teachers, Police, Nurses, and Firemen. People who Cape Cod has to import from off Cape because none can afford the real estate, to buy or rent. Not to mention not many people are selling their houses, and more then half the houses spend at least three quarters of the year empty. While the year long population, the life blood of the Cape, struggle to remain. Its particularly notable in Province Town.
So I might as well pick a future with hope. With love. The red states and locals can never change if people like me never consider going to them.
Side note. If, god forbid, Trump wins, Bae and I are taking over Texas as Queer Queens. They all talk about seceding so. (Also far as I can tell this is more about the Republic of Texas resenting being Annexed still. A little bit of politics. But remember Bush was one of their boys and in Clinton's years the Internet couldn't share such stupidity as readilyl.
Yesterday was our six month anniversary. We had a great time. A comedy movie and dinner, and just general bliss. There's nothing better then just curling up beside the one you love and drifting off to sleep.
The furkids have claimed me as Mommy 2. The tiniest doggy sticks the closest while the normally shy cat refuses to not stick close for petting. Sometimes on top of the tiniest dog.
So far it has been amazing. Cuddles and movies. Naps. Brownies ala mode. We might go out for dinner. We might not.
I'm crazy about them. My tiny angry non binary Texan. If Mom didn't need me right now I'd consider dropping everything and packing up the car right now. I could find work. But that's not my way. The bank called me with a job interview request. Fingers crossed!
This is Bliss. If I could come home to my Dragon Knight facing any job would be easy.
Knock on wood for someday, her house set up might even have room for a tiny person. Maybe. Not optimal but could be done.
This, unexpectedly, is my future. This is all I want. This peace, this bliss, this serenity, and this innocence.
I have arrived in the Homeland of my Dragon Knight. It's been so good to br close to her again. I am oddly Enchanted by the area and scenery. We've been watching movies and cuddling. I feel so at home with her. Also fur kids. Three huge dogs. Four cats, one of whom is a kitten. There's also a teeny adorable dog.
Theoretically in less then 12 hours I'll be boarding a plane to see my lady love. So in 16 hours I will get off the plane and seek her out. After that we will be inseparable for a week. Snuggles and sunshine for me. It's been helping me get by. It will be good to get a feel for her homestead.
I need this week away to clear my head. To see her and be with her and charge up. To get a feel for her neck of the woods.
Its gonna be good, possible delays aside.
The dynamic of the children of Belvedere began with the birth og the eldest sibling, Daphne. While a daughter of the house of Belvedere, her father was not Wolfram, Hazel's husband. It was in fact his twin brother, Andre Rousseau. He and Witch Hazel Tamore had bren lovers, but Wolfram envied his brother. He desired Hazel for her strength and cunning, certain she could produce proper children to carry on his legacy. Unaware Hazel already carried his niece in her belly, Wolfran warned his brother if he did not have Hazel as a bride, no one would. Fearing for the woman he loved and knowing the extent of his brother's power and influence, Andre vanished into the night. A fortnight later, Hazel and Wolfram were married. Less then six months later, Hazel gave birth to a healthy and fully developed baby girl.
Thus one could say the tension between the siblings before they were born. Naturally when Wolfram realized what had transpired, he was less then pleased. His attempts to rectify his error were blocked repeatedly at the hands of her mother and by her Daphne's first birthday, Wolfram decided-while nursing a broken leg among other injuries-to give up the ghost and let his brother's bastard live.
Two years later Hazel gave birth to her second child, and Wolfram's first born: Quinn Belvedere. Having a son to carry on his legacy should have quelled Wolfram's rage, but it only redirected it on the baby boy. As soon as his son began to crawl, he wanted to know why he wasn't walking. Quinn's first steps came a year and a half after his birth, which Wolfran noted bitterly was a quarter year longer then it took his half sister to master the act.
Perhaps that was why Wolfram decided he needee to test Quinn's meddle. As soon as he was walking he pushed hin to become exceptional. Everyday, once Quinn finished his breakfast, Wolfram would put his son through trests, trials, and tribulations. He pushed the boys physical and psychological limits, often shoving Quinn beyond. This went on everyday, outside Hazel's perception. All she knew for sure was some days Wolfram said Quinn earned his supper, and other days she had to sneak it to him.
As a result of the absence of innocent days, Quinn did not speak until he was five years old, though Hazel read to him and Daphne every night before bed. It was during these moments of shelter that Quinn finally broke down in tears and told his mother he didn't want to do his father's tests anymore. She was horrified to learn the truth, but when she confronted her husband he picked up the small boy and threatened his life. If Quinn didn't want to become worthy of his legacy, he would relieve him of life. Hazel backed down to save his life, but began to conspire escape with her children .
In her younger days, Hazel had studied with and befriended a young woman named Artemis Kingsley. They had parted ways aftee her marriage, because Remi surmised correctly Wolfram would turn on her and Hazel wouldn't hear if. None the less, when Remi received Hazel's plea for help, she lent aid.
A month later Hazel met with Remi and her brother, Maldoon. During the course of their secret meetings to conspire escape with the children past Wolfram's thugs, Hazel's heart awoke once more and she fell in love with Maldoon. Her feelings were not unrequited, and Maldoon became more desperate to help her escape after they shared a blissful night together.
Unfortunately one eveing Quinn woke up from a bad dream to see his mother sneaking into the wood. Confused, the child followed her. He could not yet understand the ways of the world, or the heart, so when he saw his mother kissing another man he fled home and told his father, certain she was going to leave him and Daphne behind. Wolfram did nothing to quell his son's fears, and to the contrary encouraged them.
The next night he sent two of his men to track his wife and learn more. Remi caught one of them, but the other escaped back. They moved up their time frame to that night, but when they returned to the manor Wolfram was waiting. Maldoon was horribly injured, and Hazel offered her freedom so they could escape. The departure was reluctant, and Wolfram locked Hazel in the cellar, enraged.
She might have wasted away, except Daphne figured out where her mother was being kept. While she couldn't open the door, she was able to sneak in blankets and food through a small window to the basement. This was how life played out for a while-Wolfram would begin Quinn's trials, and Daphne slipped off to give her mother items to live on.
Three quarters of a year passed, and then an unexpected sound rose from the cellar: a baby crying. Daphne tried to fend off her uncle and protect her mother, but by then she was only eight and he had no sympathy for her. Wolfram pushed her aside and threw open the door to find his wife, hollow cheeked and pale, clutching a new born son. There was no doubt this child was not his, and in her frail condition Hazel couldn't stop him from taking her son and discarding him in the woods. Despite this action he was found by a pair of twins who took him in and named him Jayden, but that is another story.
Hazel's final child was forced on her, conceived by her husband out of spite because he knew she could not survive another pregnancy. Tobias Belvedere was cut from his mother's womb three months early moments after her death. He was small and sickly, and was not expected to make the year.
Instead he exceeded all expectations, walking by nine months and mastering it at a year. Watching this son defy predictions of his health and become most gifted of the three children, Wolfram felt unprecedented pride rise in his chest. Be had found a new legacy.
Unexpectedly, Quinn found himself resenting when his father stopped testing his abilities. He was completely ignored for Tobias, and while he and Daphne had spent the first year tending to him together, his affection became bittersweet.
Quinn's rage came to a climax when he was twelve and Daphne foiled his attempt to kill their five-year-old brother. When the fourteen year old confronted her Uncle Wolfram about it, he not only did not admonish his eldest, but he took pride and embraced him. Horrified, Daphne took Tobias's hand that night and fled the home with him.
I hate this job.
I hate how often I burn myself.
How often I smell like beer.
When the seas are rocking.
When customers stare at me like I can lower prices. Or get indignant because I can't magic something into existence for their request.
Most of all I hate that I sleep away from home so much. Even if it is a hell house, I've made my room mine.
Except work pays just enough to keep me from leaving easily. A measly two dollar difference from the average pay per hour.
And all the impact.
Chapter One
Tatooine, a desert planet with two suns, protected from the Empire's interference because of the scum of the universe that resided on its surface. If they tried to take control they'd have far worst then a rag tag rebel alliance to worry about.
Tattooine, home of scum like Han Solo, mercenaries like Greedo, crime lords like Jabba, and idealistic youths who thought they knew everything-like me.
For nearly two decades I was raised under the care of my Uncle Owen and his wife Beru. Moisture farming wasn't a fancy life, and it definitely wasn't easy. But it was my life, even if I spent every night before sleeping considering what I'd do if I could get off that planet. The day everything changed began with hearing my Uncle Owen cursing outside.
I lifted my head from my book, a sole luxury I had managed to save for. It was a Biography of Padmae Amidala, a hero of the Clone Wars, brilliant politician, and the youngest queen Naboo had ever seen-during a turbulent period she was able to help navigate through. Then one day after the Jedi fell, she vanished, her fate unknown. Mysterious fate aside, I idolized her. I fantasized about becoming an astute political figure of influence and cleaning up the planet of crime, thus enabling it to be the place Uncle Ben had dreamed of. A place where people could depend on one another.
The cursing started up again, or perhaps it didn't stop, and I tucked my book under my bed before leaning out the window. There was Uncle Ben, dragging the droid that kept track of our finances, among other chores. It appeared to be smoking.
"Something the matter, Uncle Ben?" I called out. He glanced up and sighed.
"Looks like we'll be heading to the Jawas Caravan, Leia. Get ready to go."
