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		<title>No concern for anyone or anything &lt;https://y.st./en/weblog/2016/06-June/30.xhtml&gt;</title>
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		<header>
			<h1>No concern for anyone or anything</h1>
			<p>Day 00481: Thursday, 2016 June 30</p>
		</header>
<p>
	I backed up my mother&apos;s files aside from their software settings onto a <abbr title="Universal Serial Bus">USB</abbr> drive to lend them.
	I would have backed up the settings too (why not?), but the <abbr title="Universal Serial Bus">USB</abbr> drive that I&apos;m lending them isn&apos;t large enough to store the settings along with the other files.
	The SHYDRIVE would be large enough, but of course my mother&apos;s Windows-based machine is too stupid to read and write to a decent file system and I can&apos;t stand the though of formatting the SHYDRIVE back to something atrocious such as <abbr title="File Allocation Table">FAT</abbr>.
	For that matter, the machine that my mother will later borrow access to may very be running Windows as well, so even if my mother was on Debian, a <abbr title="File Allocation Table">FAT</abbr> <abbr title="Universal Serial Bus">USB</abbr> drive might be a better option.
	My mother only needed very specific files backed up though, so the missing settings files won&apos;t be a problem.
	I mainly backed up everything simply because I don&apos;t know where my mother keeps each of the files that they wanted and I didn&apos;t want to leave them without something that they needed.
</p>
<p>
	It turns out that our mother decided not to go to Springfield with Cyrus this morning, so I didn&apos;t have the time I needed to close my bank account and pay my mobile bill when I was expecting to, though I got a chance to do the former later in the day.
	Our mother and I took three loads to a local storage unit in Coos Bay; during the second trip, my mother stopped at the mall to pick up sodas for themself, so I took that chance to run my own errands there.
	The account closing went well, but when I stopped to pay my mobile bill, I couldn&apos;t find my mobile.
	My mobile stores my account information, so without that, they wouldn&apos;t be able to access my account to deposit money.
	I didn&apos;t want to slow my mother down too much, so I hurried out instead of digging in my bag enough.
	I later found the mobile in my bag, but it was too late at that point.
	I&apos;ll just have to pay the bill from Springfield later.
</p>
<p>
	In the face of great temptation, I prevailed.
	I wanted to pick up a portable gaming system while I was at the mall, but I refrained.
	I likely won&apos;t have Internet access for quite a while, so it&apos;d be nice to have something to do while I wait to know where we&apos;re going to live so I can apply for jobs.
</p>
<p>
	While packing up things to take to the storage unit, my mother tried to dump the gasoline out of the lawn mower and into the storm gutter, where it&apos;d  be drained likely into the ocean.
	Does my mother have no concern for the environment at all!? I suppose that I already knew this about them, but their lack of caring still often takes me by surprise.
	Cyrus and I managed to have scratch the top of our dining room table when loading it, though the table had already been scarred before we moved by rotten potatoes that had been left sitting on it, dissolving the the finish, so at least we didn&apos;t ruin a perfect table.
</p>
<p>
	My mother instructed me to try to hide the damage to the floor under my bed leg using rubber cement; I reluctantly complied.
	First of all, that seems dishonest.
	We should be upfront with the landlords, then I should pay the security deposit.
	I also can&apos;t stand working with rubber cement, though that&apos;s beside the point.
	In any case, the floor does look much better now, though if the landlords do any sort of inspection, they&apos;ll surely see the tear.
</p>
<p>
	My mother applied for a duel-language immersion job with one of the schools; it sounds like they&apos;d be teaching the English half.
	Within an hour of submitting the application, the school was already emailing my mother&apos;s references! If they land this job, things should stabilize for now and we can begin rebuilding our uprooted lives.
</p>
<p>
	The other day, my mother tasked me with filing our change of address with the post office to have our mail forwarded back to our former residence.
	Later that day, they asked if I&apos;d done it yet, but they knew very well that I hadn&apos;t had time to get to the post office to pick up the forms yet, as I&apos;d been home loading the moving van all day.
	I reminded them of that, so they replied that they thought that the forms had been online.
	That&apos;s a reasonable assumption, as most things these days are online, but I explained that no, I&apos;d used paper forms when we moved to Coos Bay.
	In truth, I&apos;d tried to find an online form before, but it was on the post office website.
	As the United States Post Office maliciously discriminates against <abbr title="The Onion Router">Tor</abbr> users, I&apos;d had to walk in and ask for the paper ones.
	At first, the post office wouldn&apos;t give them to me, saying to fill out the form online, but when I showed them on my mobile that their website was blocking me, they handed over the paper forms that I needed.
	I said I&apos;d get to the post office to pick up the forms when I had time, but instead, my mother said they&apos;d pick the forms up at some point when they were going past the post office anyway.
	It had been a while since the last time that I&apos;d gotten the forms, so it&apos;d slipped my mind that the post office workers might try to direct my mother to the online form as they did me.
	Indeed, the post office workers said to use the online form.
	Had I been there, I could have shown them the problem again, but instead, my mother just reported to me that the forms were online after all as they&apos;d originally thought.
	I explained again that I needed the paper forms, then explained that the online form was nonfunctional, but they decided to fill out the online form themself as the post office had requested.
	It seems though that they charge a dollar to fill it out online! In addition to the paper forms being far more accessible, they don&apos;t come with a fee attached.
	Next time I&apos;m at a post office, I should check to make sure that the paper forms are still available.
	I&apos;ll show them again that their website&apos;s broken, then see if they&apos;ll hand them over.
	It&apos;s not my fault that they want to block my only source of Internet access, and some people don&apos;t even have Internet access to begin with.
	There must be a non-Internet form for the rare people that need it.
</p>
<p>
	Our mother brought up to us that we may argue, but our arguments aren&apos;t as bad as those of other families.
	I find that highly improbable! Do most heads-of-household threaten to disown their children if the children cut their hair? Do they threaten to evict their children it they continue to have a relationship with their other parent? Do they make threats if the other family members don&apos;t give in to every little, noxious, and petty demand made? I don&apos;t think so.
	We don&apos;t fight back as we fear them, so they don&apos;t see how bad it is, I guess.
	They lack kindness and empathy.
	We never know which threats are real and not, and the threats come out of our mother as easily as their very breath.
	On at least one occasion, Alyssa did get disowned and evicted.
	We can&apos;t take that chance, as we don&apos;t have the support network that Alyssa does.
	These fights are horrid and there&apos;s no way to even win.
</p>
<p>
	Later in the day, my mother commented that they don&apos;t know how I can survive as a vegan.
	They like to say that every once in a while.
	I replied that I survive barely, so they continued that vegetables don&apos;t really provide much energy.
	I dropped it on them that I indeed don&apos;t have energy because they don&apos;t want me to cook.
	Without a decent meal, I indeed don&apos;t feel well.
	I&apos;ve been drained of energy for quite a while now.
	Though I didn&apos;t say it, it&apos;s not even like they care what shape I&apos;m in.
	They are put off by the smell of my cooking, and as a result, I don&apos;t get to even get decent nutrition.
	How can you claim to love someone while choosing their constant lethargia over you having to smell food that you don&apos;t personally find appetizing? Either my mother&apos;s sense of smell is off the charts (which they&apos;ll argue isn&apos;t true) or they have zero concern for my wellbeing.
	I suppose I already know that, but it hurts to think about.
	My mother loves the <strong>*idea*</strong> of their children, but not their children themselves.
</p>
<p>
	Tonight, our mother took another load in the minivan to Springfield, leaving Cyrus and I to continue work on the house.
	We were supposed to be out by the end of today, but it looks like we&apos;ll be taking some of tomorrow as well.
</p>
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