Milwaukee is wonderful

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Moving here was the best decision I ever made. I love my job, and there’s so much to do here. Museums, concerts….the art museum even has yoga classes, and the busses run every fifteen minutes through most parts of town.

My building is old and not in the best shape, but my landlord recently purchased the building and is wonderful about doing repairs.

Attached is a picture not of my actual building, but of one nearby.

I live in the Concordia district. I am definitely not in the greatest part of town, but it’s pretty alright so far.

I’m actually really good at my job, lol. I’m part of the group of four girls that got taken off training calls right away, and I’m actually captioning live telephone calls right now. 🙂 I love this job, it’s rewarding to help the deaf and hard of hearing communicate over the phone, it pays well, and apparently the company promotes from within.

People are much nicer, interesting, and more… like, willing to have real conversations with you. I’ve had a lot of randomly deep conversations with strangers…I like it.

Meanwhile, still not in a relationship. I’ve gotten some interest, but there’s always something off. I don’t know, I know this guy on Huber and when he gets out, maybe…

That, and I love being on my own too much right now. I love having my own tiny apartment.

We even have alley cats that the landlord takes care of!


Emit a thick cloud of love like an octopus squirts out ink

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It was a wise old queen—Bobo, we called her—who taught me that I had a duty to live and to bear my burden proudly for all to see, to conquer prejudice and ignorance and hate with knowledge and sincerity and love. Whenever you are threatened by a hostile presence, you emit a thick cloud of love like an octopus squirts out ink . . .

-William S. Burroughs

“Spring and Fall” -Gerard Manley Hopkins

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To a young child

Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow’s springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.