Small World department, John Brown you should appreciate this. I'm trying to find affordable housing and learn about this great place, so I get the rental application. The property is run by Mercy Housing Management. Something about the name bothered me, so I did a little Google search, turns out these apartments are run by an investment arm of Sisters of Mercy who ran a wonderful orphanage in Toowoomba, Australia, where a great deal of abuse took place. . . including by the infamous Father Kevin Baker (the sisterhood is also a major player in the Ryan Report on child abuse in Ireland). So now I'm scared to move into the place, if they even accept my application, as they'd probably bug my home and put another key stroke reader on my laptop like the Archbishop of Chicago did to me in 2011. This is so frustrating as I am living in a slummy motel room and the town homes these people manage are perfect for me. So I'm wondering, do I write them a letter begging for mercy and asking them to let me have an apartment there even though my blog helped to prove the whole dang church is run by criminals who aided and abetted pedophile priests? I mean, this complex is in the best location near buses and shopping here in South Lake Tahoe, I really want to live there. Or do I just keep looking for something else? The latter is probably the best course of action. So frustrating.
Meanwhile next morning:
I've been to the same apartment complex so many times in my dreams that when I wake up, I try to remember what city it's in, until I realize the place only exists in my dreams. It's a collection of structures on rolling hills that feels like Northern California. I'm always with Lizzie in the dream and we're always moving in, and since we've always been looking for a home, in dreams and in real life, we're so happy to have found this place.
Last night we'd gotten a two bedroom with a creative layout, lots of windows, and the guy was saying "It's only two thirty a month because it's subsidized." Lizzie hugged me. It was this wonderful hug that I felt through the blankets and I carried it with me for several hours into the morning.
She posted New Year's Eve on her Facebook timeline that she was "In HELL" and included a phone number with words to whoever read it, "call me." So I called her but my call went straight to voicemail, the way it does when a person has programmed a phone to avoid calls from that number. Lizzie posted last night that her life has been hell for the past year. I want to point out that her life has been hell since she became hostile to her mother. But I'm afraid to say anything that will cause her to once again block me on Facebook completely. So instead I leave a voicemail saying, "Please call me back, we could be helping each other right now," even though I know she probably won’t even listen to the message.
She's cut me so for far out of her life that all I can do is watch her slip through more cracks while I keep my distance, this is so hard, so hard.
Not just L.A. the City of Angels is Everywhere