Actually... in Book Four: Ichi-no-Tani 2017

Y’know what…
while I would love to be paid more… and frankly think I should be paid more… it is important to realize that (especially in the law)… we are never paid for everything we do. I have a massive headache over this case where the kid went crazy. There is literally nothing I can do to unfuck his life. I’m probably going to eat all the work I did on his case. But knowing that? I’d still do it again. Because the kid needs help. He doesn’t have anyone in his life anymore. So either I do The Lawyer Thing and tell him “Here are your options” while doing the Lawyer Thing of “Is there anything the state can do for him?”..... or I do the non-lawyer thing and just let him devolve, soak up his crazy, and become an ever increasing threat to himself or others. Frankly, this immediately goes right back to the reason I did not become a Pastor or a Therapist. As a pastor or therapist… all I could do was counsel, make a few phone calls of referral, and hope that nothing bad happens. As an attorney… yeah, I represent the kid. It is my job to see that he spends as little time as possible in jail; but most importantly… if/since I can’t work miracles… I am going to fight to do what I can to get the people whatever programs there are. Even though that means in Iowa… there are none. Admitting that I have a lack of abundant free time… I think it is way past time that I put my money where my mouth is.

I am going to start researching IAMHR (Iowa Advocates for Mental Health Recovery) and NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) to see if I can become a member, get involved, find ways to help. Because seriously. Iowa’s former Governor (now Ambassador to China) unilaterally, without a vote or House/Senate support, personally shut down Mental Health Departments across the state. And when the options are (1) place a suicide risk in general population jail; (2) place a suicide risk in the community; or (3) place a suicide risk in solitary confinement.... gosh. Do you think that person is going to commit suicide? Now lets make it FAR MORE DANGEROUS. Lets look at a violent paranoid schizophrenic. You could (1) place him in general population where he is sure to hurt others; (2) place him in society where he is sure to hurt others and pick up more charges; or (3) place him in solitary confinement where he is sure to hurt himself. Before you rush to say #3 is a good idea… remember… any individual who dies while in Police Custody (including Jail) is seen as having died due to presumptive negligence by the state. A hearing is conducted and (when possible) a civil suit is filed. In other words, all the people that (like assholes) celebrate the suicide or murder of an inmate… that death is very costly to tax payers.

On a completely different note, time and billing is still weird as shit! I got into the office this morning at 7:45 a.m. I worked from 7:45 to 8:15 when I had to go to court for an 8:30. That went until a little after 9. I came back, spoke with my bosses about cases, and began working on their requests. All the while, staying in contact with other State Entities on my cases with Mental Health or Criminal or other items. In the entire day, I maybe have spent one full hour on Facebook or reading or doing not work. So… One Full Hour doing not work. Working since 7:45. It is 1:45. That means total, I’ve been in the office/in court 6 hours. Subtract the “hour of internet screwing around” and one would think I’d have worked a 5 hour billable day already. NOPE. SOMEHOW, I have no idea how, but SOMEHOW I’ve only worked 2.5 hours. HOW?! I mean… WHAT?! What the fuc....?

Okay so enough of that. While I am totally worked up on that issue… my life needs other things in it. Because… mental health, small pay checks, glaucoma, and the like… that isn’t life. That’s just the bullshit that sours life.

So… on to something different. I had a weird series of dreams last night that all combine into one dream because (apparently, obviously) my brain prefers unity of story. Even if I can’t make everything logically connect… it prefers unity of story.

Just about all (not all, but a significant amount) of this dream takes place in my parents’ house where I grew up.

The dream starts with me sleeping in the basement. This suggests that the dream was taking place in summer because I would often live in the basement during summer. I was watching the news and switching between the news and cartoons; but I had this ominous sense of foreboding. Just this inescapable sense that something terrible was going to happen. I kept switching back and forth and then MTV and VH1 started getting in the mix. Suddenly, I realized that it was 4 a.m. and I needed to be asleep. As the TV kept switching channels back and forth on its own, I pulled a blanket over my head right before a large shadow appeared. Part curious, part afraid, I peeled the sheet back just enough to see it was my father who had come downstairs to yell at me for not being asleep. When he saw the remote control on the floor and the TV switching channels on its own; he looked in my direction angrily, shrugged his shoulders, then went back upstairs.

The next day, (this is where it gets weird, a recurring dream I have once a year tried to hijack this one so… it’ll get REALLY odd).... the next day, I was packing for a trip to Europe. I had my plane tickets, my bag, but I knew I was missing about 30% of the things I would need. My mom and brother kept telling me that I could just buy that stuff there; that it would be too expensive to try to bring another bag on the flight. At that point, I realized Dad wasn’t around. I asked where he was, and Mom told me that he was downstairs going through browser histories hoping to find my porn habits so he could ground me and keep from leaving. My heart leapt into my throat and I raced to the basement. I saw my Dad at the computer but then… I was suddenly in an airplane flying over the Swiss Mountains. Then in a store filled with dark wood. Then back on a plane feeling very depressed and unhappy.

After that, I was moved into my brother’s old room (which became my room when he went into the Navy) but for some reason… that room had as much space as the basement. Even STRANGER was that apparently I was to have three new room mates. One was my (current) wife who (in the dream) was somehow acting like a House Mom… the woman who looks over the house and keeps the rules. The other two would best be described as Plus Sized Oversized Beauties. They were more than just larger women, they were overweight. The kind of woman that IRL me knew were the types Wife thinks “Yeah, they might have beautiful faces, but the thought of them having sex is revolting.” Anyway… apparently, that was playing in my head pretty strongly because the remainder of the dream was those two women trying to get with me… handsy, kissy, even taking my sexual organ out of my pants and giving me oral stimulation at a few places… all with this overarching “danger, can’t let her catch you” over the whole thing. It was very weird. During one such night… I’ll just put letters to everybody. Redhead is now A, Ravenhaired is now B, Wife is now C. My bed had been turned into a modified bunk bed… more of a stair step really, so that anybody who got into (or out of) my bed would have to go through C’s bed. Well, C wasn’t present and A and B were having their fun with me when I looked out the window and saw a terrifying figure outside the house. I can’t describe it… it was a figure shrouded in shadow and seven feet tall that was just… loitering in the street in the middle of the night. He kept coming up to the house and looking for a way in. Even when he’d find one, though, he’d simply return to the center of the street and look up towards me. It was… deeply disturbing. Then my brother burst into the room… A and B got quiet but they were still obvious to see. My brother told me to go take a shower and then he left. I got up, went to the shower and… just… took a shower. Then the dream ended.

A very weird dream. Which has started a very weird day.

It is now 3:30. I have done what I can on the cases that I can. Chinese Boss hasn’t gotten back to any of my e-mails. Prosecutors have stopped returning phone calls. Clients can’t be arsed to care about their cases. I have a massive headache and incredible neck strain. And with all of this… I’ve only worked a billable 3.1.