Josh: That's It, I'm Giving Up Poker

Well, you bluffed me. Fair enough.

Mary just dropped me off at my apartment (near Marquette University downtown, for any newcomers). I'm going to hang out, drink a spot of green tea, reminisce about the murder scene I saw earlier today and throw up for a while.

Mary is heading back to the St. Francis Police Department to pester Detective Ward a bit more for any other crumbs of info.

Mom, I remember what you said about this being more of a journal than a log, and I feel like I do need to write out some of the things that I'm feeling about what's happening, so this is that. Forgive the naval-gazing, but I've got to get this stuff out.

When the accident-grr... I mean ATTACK-happened, I was just stunned that my Dad was dead and that my Mom was injured so badly. I would have liked to have actually done something then, just to get my mind off of it, but even being almost entirely paralyzed, my Mom was issuing orders and making arrangements from the Intensive Care Unit. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad she didn't curl up into a ball and give up, but for a moment there I thought that for once in my life I was actually going to take care of her for a change. It turns out that if anything her paralysis has made her even more capable, or at least gave her a greater focus.

Anyway, even though I feel totally out of my depth and entirely wigged out by what I saw today, I have to say that I still feel pretty good. I'm helping, and that's not something I've been able to say much in my life. Granted, at this point I kind've wish I had a degree in criminal science instead of Philosophy, but this is hardly the first time a Philosophy grad regretted their choice of majors. Still, at least I can swing by the house for visits and debate the merits of Hegel (below, looking like a barrel of laughs) with Jeff (Jeff's down with Hegel, I'm more on the side of Schopenhauer who called Hegel's work: "...A monument to German stupidity." Look out! Philosopher slap-fight!!!)

Shockingly, I appear to have veered off on a tangent.

I'm going to take a nap.

Cynthia: Mens Mentis Medicus

During my various charity efforts on behalf of the AHCA, I have acquired a detailed list of some of the finest practitioners of medicine in the country. While nothing immediately springs to mind in the field of psychiatry, I have no doubt whatsoever that I can obtain the name of someone exceptional within the hour, Miss Stroud. I shall have Jeffrey leave the necessary information on the table in the foyer.

As this is the second time he has been mentioned, I should introduce my personal care worker, Jeffrey Werth. A personal care worker is not a nurse, but someone capable of carrying out the sundry, oftentimes repulsive duties required to keep a quadriplegic alive. Again, through my contacts in the American Health Care Association I was introduced to an organization called Independence First, an institute devoted to assisting disabled individuals in attaining as much personal freedom as possible. Independence First provided the resumes of personal care workers, and I interviewed and rejected almost a dozen of them before I hired Jeffrey.

Jeffrey is working toward his nursing degree at the University of Marquette (while Marquette is most renowned for their post-graduate work in the theology and bio-medical fields, their Nursing program is not far behind in terms of prestige). He is perhaps the hardest working person I have ever met, and seems to have no difficulty at all with what I consider to be the almost intolerably odious tasks necessary to keeping a paralyzed human body alive.

Of paramount import to me, however, is that my personal care worker actually be capable of conversing on subjects beyond my mere survival. I realized early on that whomever I employed would become the central figure in my existence, and though some may call it snobbish, I had no desire to spend my remaining days being attended to by some dullard. When not tending to my basic needs, Jeffrey spends our mornings reading Hegel aloud to me and making invaluable suggestions on precisely which Gorham silver service to purchase for the dining room I no longer have a use for. (Below: Gorham tea set. Absolutely magnificent patternwork.)

Should you require anything here at the house, consider Jeffrey to be acting on my behalf and trust him as you would me.

Also, though I am loathe to discuss the details of my personal situation, I should inform you as to how I am typing this at all. I use Dragon NaturallySpeaking Preferred software to transform my speech into type, and I find that the company's claim of ninety-nine percent accuracy is for the most part valid. To navigate web pages I utilize a mouth-manipulated joystick.

On another note: Joshua, with Miss Stroud's permission perhaps you could accompany her on her visit to Mrs. Walentowicz's home tomorrow. Miss Stroud's reaction to Mrs. Walentowicz's mental state is most intriguing, and perhaps you can provide a fresh perspective.

Josh: When We Find The Guy, You Can Serve Him His Summons

Uh, Mom, not to disparage your interview skills here, but a process server?? Look, no offense to Mary here, but we need a private investigator who's actually, you know, investigated things. Someone with a police background, not just a former student who fell into the business to pay some bills. I simply can't believe that there is no P.I. with a criminal investigation background out there you can hire.

I'm going to contact the administration at Marquette tomorrow and drop my classes for this semester so I can help you out on this full-time.

Josh: More Info Please

I don't think that's going to cut it, Mom. Let's get all the information up front so that anyone accessing the site for the first time can hit the ground running. If I give someone the code to get in here it means I trust them completely, but it doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to spend forever giving them deep background. I think you should put down everything you've got on the accident, and as much about yourself as you can. I'm sure it's painful, but perhaps someone else can glean something from your recollections that you can't. Besides, if you want candor from the people posting here, you're going to have to give as good as you get.

Starting with me-for the sake of new posters-my name is Josh Howland. I'm 29 years old and am working toward my masters in philosophy at Marquette University in fabulous Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I was born and raised in Wisconsin, yet somehow have gone all this time without wearing a foam block of cheese on my head. This semester I'm taking a light class load to help my Mom do what she needs to do. I'm single (even with a chick-magnet like a philosophy degree hanging on my wall?? Shockingly, yes), tall and I suppose to be kind to myself I'll go with "wiry" over "skinny". Not much else to tell, really.

I'll let my Mom give more information on what's happened so far, then I'll write another post on what I've been doing the last few days as far as dealing with the police and the media and whatnot.