Travel your own path

times Jane told Maura she loved her (4/4)

One time, Maura got punched in the face, and Jane threatened a room full of prisoners that she would kill whoever did it again. 

One time, Maura was kidnapped by somebody obsessed with taking away everything Jane loved. Jane was never squeamish about super gruesome murder scenes, but when they went to investigate the scene of the kidnapping, there was this little tiny speck of blood, and she had to look away. 

Kidnapping again: Jane was more distracted, upset and sleep deprived throughout that one than we ever saw her even during Hoyt stuff. When Kent suggested she take a nap because she hadn’t slept in a couple of days, she told him to shove it up his ass, and went to continue working in Maura’s office for comfort. She accidentally dozed off and had a nightmare that Maura was dead.

Last one about the kidnapping: I know this was not in any way intentional on the show’s part, but Jane fulfilled that promise from a couple seasons ago about killing if Maura got hit in the face again.

One time, Jane figured out that Maura’s date was a serial killer just in time to save her from being dismembered. 

Jane’s favorite hobby might be rescuing Maura from being murdered at the last second. No, seriously, look at her face? She loves it.

I loved this time when Jane body-shielded Maura from a gunman. 

But my favorite, of course: the time when seeing Maura’s life threatened was what gave Jane the strength to overcome her fear, overpower two armed men with her hands tied, and kill her serial killer archnemesis.

In conclusion, here’s a poem Maura wrote about Jane and made their coworker read in front of everyone. 

She is fierce and first to defend me in my moment of trouble or need. Her wit and laughter sustain me, and never come my expense. And when we part, there is no sadness, because our bond is always there. She’s not just my friend, she is a gift, both precious and rare.

This is not a poem about Maura loving Jane; this is a poem about Maura feeling loved by Jane.

And that’s the Jane Rizzoli I love. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

2) smash this idiot idea that it’s only high school kids working minimum wage jobs: who do you think is making you your Starbucks at 12 pm? The highschool kids are all in highschool, idiot. At my retail store where people make minimum wage, we have no staff under 25 years old right now, about half the staff have families, they are all making minimum wage.

3) these people are providing you goods and services that are important and you want. You want a burrito. You want a coffee. Why on earth should the people providing us essential services not make enough money to pay their rent and their bills? Explain to me why this group of people deserves to live in poverty?

4) these jobs are not “unskilled” as in they’re easy to do and any asshole could do them. They are working harder than any prick sitting in an office chair all day.

5) Canada has raised its minimum wage. My province has had a minimum wage of $15 per hour for four years. Burritos do not cost $30 here, no one has gone out of business because they can’t afford to pay their workers anymore. What HAS happened is that I can now afford to live with my kids in my own apparent and not have to share it with my sister and her kids, I can afford to actually buy things, I can afford to cook healthy food and replace my shoes when they fall apart. The extra money I am making goes straight back into the local economy. My health and the health of my kids will be better and we will cost our government less. Don’t be a fucking idiot.

And our burritos are still $12.

It’s the mug With the crack in the handle “No” I say I want to keep it.

Marked inside By the thousand unfinished teas, she drank On lazy mornings

The glass jar Filled with five year old flour  A frozen promise of a cake Rows of spice Tiny relics of loud nights Warm, alive Once full of colour And a girl Dodging between chair legs Chubby fingers Reaching for olives

We move slowly Through cupboards, drawers, shelving With each choice A fading moment… The teapot I had forgotten to see, Still holding the last cup I made…

…for her.

Each falls away Like the closing of a door Like goodbye… ..All over again ‘Til I reach  For the mug, with the crack In the handle And I find… …Warm nights                      ….Bright smiles                                               …Lazy mornings “Not this one” I whisper

I want to keep it.