Category: Critical

Not Much Has Changed

I have said and shared more than once that Florida has great potential for the film and television industry.  There is no reason why there shouldn’t be more work shot in Florida.

However, from what I’ve experienced, as well as, from my understanding of the problems involved with productions – Florida has not grasped the possibilities for the future.  Florida makes decisions for the immediate need.  Florida as I have experienced it all these years is still a good o’l boy mentality with red neck mischief.

Florida should figure out making and creating decisions that could impact – for the better – the entire state what a difference it would make for every person for years, decades, and centuries to come.

There is no reason why Florida isn’t more accessible to Hollywood than California.  Except California has put money, planning, city engineering, planned communities, engineered roads, etc.  Florida takes the position of do it yourself.  There is no organization, no commitment to a future for every person for the years to come.

What I’ve experienced – Florida is slow.  It does not learn from the success of others and apply it with a purpose to the now.

I grew up in California, then my family moved to Oregon.  When I moved to Oregon (as a young child) I thought Oregon is years behind California.  The mentality of its people, fashion, politics, its view on the world, etc.

From Oregon my family moved to Florida when I was a teenager.  I was devastated by the move.  I was in culture shock for a very long time.  Florida was so far behind Oregon – it’s mentality, fashion, politics, it’s view on the world, etc. it was unbearable.

Shouldn’t come as a shock, I suppose, since Florida was the last state in the union to amend its state constitution giving women the right to vote – 1971, folks.  Can you believe that?  That is if my internet research can be believed.  Since my internet access has an undisclosed (unauthorised) governing upon it.

For me, it is quite literally painful to see possibility, potential, yet be stopped over and over and over again by stupidity, narrow-mindedness, and a failure to believe in the possibilities of human potential.

This writing for me is still an explanation, or reporting.  It is not the writing I started with, nor is it the writing that I have stored away in the recesses of my mind, but do to the confines of my current life I am unable to reach.

I am Florida.

I have great potential.  I have great possibility.  Yet, time and time and time again I have been stopped, blocked, locked in, physically hurt to stop me, and literally slammed into to keep me isolated, stuck, and a version of what someone else wants of me.  But, it is not me.

If I was able to live outside of this faked life – this unreal life I’ve been imprisoned in – if I was able to speak, to live with control over my body alone, without intruders in my body, in my place of residence, without games of control, without competition for my money and attention, where I could finally be free of 360, it would be the difference between California getting all the jobs and Florida finally being able to stand on its own legs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

What I Booked, Not What I Got

I come here to write.  Because I want to write.  Because I need to write.

All I get to do anymore is explain and report – at least that is what it feels like to me.

I used to have it.  I used to be able to free associate without being pushed, motivated, or told.

I guess, that was back when I still had feeling in my hands, freedom and control over my brain space.

So, now ALL I am left with is telling.  Which is not the same as writing – not to me.

Oh, how I miss the writing path I was on with control over my head and body.  I was just getting to a point of being extraordinary when it was taken away from me – stolen from me.

I did some travelling last year as a way to escape the prison of this house – twice it was an enormous mistake.  Twice I had booked reservations for a carefully planned out trip, yet was forced and manipulated into a different experience.

So, I am naming names here for anyone who cares even if it only me.

I wanted to stay at the Best Western in New Orleans even if it was on Rampart street.  I understood it to be the best choice for me.

I wanted to stay at The Key Lime Inn at Key West.  I was going back a second time to Key West for inspiration because it has gone from me entirely with the loss of control.  I need the inspiration to write again, so I can live instead wishing to die everyday.

I wish I could explain the means that were used to convince me that the decisions I made were incorrect.  But, how can I?!  Honestly, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

I wanted to go back to Key West to visit Ernest Hemingway’s house hoping for inspiration to write again.  Visiting his house a second time was the same as the first – it did nothing for me.

However, when I saw that the hotel I wanted to stay at was across the street from his house I nearly cried.  It was so much closer.  It would have been so much less walking.

I can’t stand this experience of being taken advantage of ALL of my memories.  It is shamefully disgraceful.

I would have had a front porch if I had been able to stay at the Key West Inn – all to myself.  It was nicer accommodations and everything.

It is so painful.

I’ve stopped paying attention anymore.  This life has gone on for too long now.

 

 

 

The End Of My Ability

Can someone please explain to me why a single man does not ask me out, does not ask for my time, does not ask me anything?!

I am not unattractive, or undesirable, or ugly, yet I am left in a prison and unbearably alone.

Still not writing.

This house is a prison.

Can someone please explain to me why every man I might find sexually attractive is already involved with another woman?!

I feel the time is too late and my time has long since passed.

Why do I continue on when I so clearly should let go of this life that has nothing left for me.

Let go of this life – Yes!

Drugged

Did you know it was possible to manipulate bugs and insects through radio wave frequency.  We’ll it is.  You can get them to fly in different directions, and go from room to room.

I’ve discovered I have neighbors who will go to such lengths to torment and torture me.  Anywhere there is the slightest gap, front door, garage door, window, or balcony they are able to – best way to say this – inject bugs, gases, scents, etc.

I mentioned in the post previous that I believe my boss dated me in disguise several times.  I would never have dated him – as I knew him, otherwise.  Physically, he doesn’t do it for me.  Which is a very big deal if you don’t find a man physically/sexually attractive then what is the point of the relationship?!  In my opinion.  Why would I date a man I wasn’t sexually attracted to?!

One of the biggest problems while working at The Container Store, not a single available man I found sexually attractive could be found.  The only men willing to date me were men I was not sexually attracted to – so, unsatisfying.

Since moving here there have been several instances of being drugged.

At a party I had three beers, and then a friend gave me a shot.  I woke up with a man on top of me in his car.  I started freaking out.  I had never blacked-out before when drinking.  I know, I’ve written a lot about being home-bound (so to speak) while taking care of my mom.  Honestly, I am not much of a go-out and party all the time.  I am more of a home body.  However, with that being said, I certainly know how to have a good time when I am out.

I couldn’t believe it.  I was trying to put the pieces together while trying to come out of the fucking hang-over.  One of my first thoughts was after losing weight – this is the guy I get to sleep with?!  Oh my God, he was old, and just moderately attractive.  Worst of all, he just so happened to be the father of the man in a position above me at work whom I greatly admired, respected, and thought was just oh-so-handsome.

He took me to his hotel.  I spent the rest of the night in the bed opposite him, fully clothed.  As he walked his wrinkly, naked body to and from the bathroom.  I can somewhat laugh at it now.

You look at a man naked, his body should be desirable.  Looking back at it now, it belongs in some sort of comedy.

The girl who gave me the shot of vodka at the party was someone I worked with.  I’m telling you now, I know there is no way I could have blacked-out after 3 beers and a shot over the course of about 3 hours.  I believe I was set-up and drugged.

A birthday party.  I went to a friend’s house for her birthday.  I know exactly how many beers I had when another friend from work showed up.  She made a shot – I woke up the next morning.  With another friend telling me a story about how I hooked-up with the tallest guy at the party.  Great, a step-up, I get the taller man, but these guys were none of my type.  Simple, not smart guys.  I was outraged!

I don’t do one-night stands.  I mean I’ve had them, but so very few.  I may have been drinking when they happened, but I remember everything.

Then, another instance of being out with friends, and I woke up the next morning.  Having had my clothes taken off and wearing pajamas.  Who does that?!  Who takes your clothes off if you’ve had too many?!

I believe I was set up on all accounts.  I believe something was placed in my drinks to either accelerate the alcohol or to make me pass out entirely.  When my clothes were taken off of me, I found an unusual mark on my body the next day.

For me there is no reason or explanation for any of this.

I don’t see any reason why anyone would want to drug me.  But, it happened.  I don’t have a way to prove it, but I know each of the instances I’ve written about did not happen on their own.  They were planned and purposeful.

I tried speaking to other’s about the occurrences before.  I was shut-up.  Basically, told not to speak about it.  Because it was more important for someone else’s project to not be discredited.  I was not allowed to tell my story, or share my feelings.

It was like being repeatedly raped, and told it didn’t happen.  Told to pretend.

Someone told me once that taking care of my mother, I had placed my life on hold.  I’d heard many versions of that while being her care-giver.  I didn’t absorb it because I didn’t believe it.  For me, I had always known it was only going to be for a time.  Then, another chapter of my life would start.

For me, this having to pretend all the time is worse than having my life on hold.  Because at least I had a purpose while taking care of my mother.

Everywhere I go, people look at me as if they already know me.  Everywhere I go.  It is like being in a virtual movie set, 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year.  It is absolutely stress-full, and stress-filled.

I cannot pretend any longer.

I cannot pretend that the job I go to is real.

I just can’t…anymore.

 

 

Problem Thinking

One of the problems I saw when I first started working for a living was the way greedy mismanagement of products.

I worked for a retail clothing store, it was a brand new store in a brand new mall.  The first inventory the store had the numbers were not tallying correctly, so merchandise was sent to the trash.

We’re talking, you could almost buy a single family home for the amount of merchandise that was thrown in the trash.

Why not donate it?  Take the tags out and donate it?

Because that would take too long?!

I’m not entirely sure.  However, it is a recurring theme I’ve seen in the workplace.

There is a great lack for thinking beyond the present, planning for the future, for future generations, for thinking of the what if’s as actual possibilities.

Just because something has worked in the past doesn’t mean it can or will continue to work the same in the future.

And, what about other alternative or possible solutions to a problem.

In conjunction, very few companies or jobs I’ve work for have dealt well or even had a system in place for internal marketing as a way of retaining their current employees.

The cost of having to train and hire more employees has to be more expensive than keeping an employee.

Sorry, I feel my vocabulary has gotten weak and sloppy.  I’ve spent too long away from the person I wish and want to be rather than simply doing what I’m told.  Believing that if I just do what is being asked of me, then all of this will go away and I can go back to being me.

I think back to just a couple of years ago, I am no longer that person anymore who used to be able to be fun and have fun, etc.  Who used to have lightness in her heart.

I wear this yoke of burden.  It weighs on me until I can’t breathe anymore.  This 360 degree burden, but it’s also more than 360 degrees.  It is a burden of not being free to my life, of not being free to live.

The Worst Person I’ve Ever Met

Watching movies.

So many movies I watch anymore are so depressing.  So unenjoyable.  So unbearable.

I used to love watching movies.

I would sit through a lousy picture in case there was a moment within the film I found of value.  I used to study film.  I would look to it for inspiration.

But then, I used to love and enjoy a lot of things before working at The Container Store.  Once, the illusion of my job, home, and car were no longer mine alone, but were completely filmed and monitored I have never been more depressed and suicidal.

The General Manager at The Container Store, Marvin Price was not always the same person.  He was in a body suit and costume.  Which goes for many of the other person at that store.

In fact, I believe that he, donned in costume, dated me several times.  There was always something wrong with every date I was on while working at The Container Store.  Worse still, most of the dates I was on they were men wearing full body suits – a complete costume from head to toe, including rubber dong.

I can only recall two dates where the men were not in costume and full body suits.  However, those dates were also off because they were monitored.  The men were not there because they wanted to date me.  They were using me to get information.

Being around this person – alias Marvin Price and so many others – has made me so miserable.

I believe “Marvin Price” also played the part of a woman.  So he was a man, playing the part of a woman pretending to be a lesbian.  Because he was a man who liked women.

That relationship was used as a way to torment and torture me.  Push me out the door so to speak.  It was used to get me – along with the unnatural tooth communication – to say some terrible words.  Of course, literally starving me to death, along with sleep depriving me, talking to me in the middle of the night through the microphones in my fans and through the tooth would have no other reaction than to drive a person completely out of their mind.

There is no way I would ever have said some of the things I said before.

I will not apologize for the way the experience made me feel.

I will say this, my words were not heard correctly.  In no way did I ever wish to take away any rights from any person regardless of color, nationality, sexual orientation, gender, or ethnicity.

I had been screaming at the top of my lungs for help, and no one listened or helped.

No one could have lived through the exact experience I did – violated, privacy invaded, deceived, and constantly lied to.

Doesn’t matter if I am correct with every detail.

I did not audition, or sign up to have my life taken away from me, or sign a contract, or agree to any such conditions.

You know, I never in my whole life ever heard my mother swear, except once.  We were having an argument about something, I was barely a teenager and she stopped me cold when she answered back, You had better goddamn respect me!

Perhaps because I never heard her swear even at my father – they were always having screaming fights – I am not sure, but I have remembered it to this day.

Without respect there is no value in any relationship.  For there is nothing of value that the other person or people find worthwhile enough to change, or stop, or alter for the sake of someone else.

You had better goddamn respect me!

They are words to live by.

I have been accused of not having enough confidence while working at The Container Store – something I have never been accused of before.  But, then that was Marvin Price who accused me of not having confidence.

How else was I supposed to deal with the knowledge that my work was not real?!  My home is a set-up for a reality show?!  My car has cameras and the radio is live?!

All this has done is taken strength away from me.  Stopped me from being me.  Stopped me from pursuing any dream I once had.

All I wanted after placing my mother in a nursing home was to marry a man who would love me for the rest of my life, and I could love him for the rest of my life.  Everything would have fallen into place.

The dentist.  I went to the appointment.  The nursing home set-up an appointment for my mother to go to the dentist.  I don’t know what that was but it was all a set-up.  Could have been a Marvin playing the dentist.  What a waste a time.

That person.  That Marvin Price has the worst effect on me.

I see no future.  I feel nothing but doors closing and an end.

Worse, I see a final end as the only possibility.

 

 

What Happened Today

The purpose for sleep is to allow your brain to repair and regrow tissues, to build bone and muscle, and to strengthen the immune system.

When this is disrupted it sends the entire order and balance in these bodies God designed out of whack.

Since, the tooth radio has been installed in me, I have had my sleep interrupted every single day.

Can you imagine what that can do to a person over years of not being allowed the normal function of what their own body was designed to do?!

The possibility that people have access to my thinking as it is being thought exists, but NO ONE has any concept of LIVING the experience.  Nor, does anyone have any idea what it has cost me emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually.

Which begs the response, just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should do something.

I used to think I was an insomniac – it was just the way I could explain, I do not get good restful sleep – because after I placed my mother in a nursing home I thought I would finally make up for all those years of sleep deprived nights, and rest, and repair.

My whole entire being had been on high alert while taking care of her.  My mind, body, every single nerve ending on high alert making sure I was there the moment my mother needed help.

The best way I can explain it: It was like being a solider in battle.  I was removed from everyday life – as the majority of the population are not care-givers, nor do they have an understanding or comprehension to the life of a care-giver.  So, when I finally was able to give the care of my mother to a nursing home, I thought my mind and body would relax.  And rest.  And do everything I had wanted to do whilst taking care of her, but was unable to do so.

Just as a side note: I ended that last sentence with “so” because I did not want to end the sentence with the preposition “to” which would be poor writing.  Remembering “to” as a preposition because I played “to” the preposition at a school assembly.  I think it was the only time I did well at that Christian school, since I was kicked out or asked to leave there.  They were not prepared or equipped to manage a dyslexic student, especially an auditorily dyslexic with a high reading comprehension.  Even public high school was at a loss as how to manage a student who could read at such a high level tested years beyond my grade level, but get lost during lectures.  It has taken me years to find a way to get my brain to work with the standardized norm.

Whoops, rambled for a moment.

Another side, but must be said: Today the world at large tried to make me feel bad for ordering a pizza.  I had a coupon for a free pizza and I am broke – yet, again.  So, I ordered the pizza, so that I didn’t have to go another day of eating celery and apples because that is the only food I have left.  I was made to believe that I was asking to gain weight because I ordered pizza.  I am so sick and tired of being mocked, and having my existence controlled by purchases instead of just being allowed to actually live.

I have literally starved myself to near death just to prove a point and claim my innocence.  

I am simply trying to live.

My life since The Container Store has been a series of jobs.  I will never completely be able to describe the terribleness of those jobs.  The place I work for currently is the place I should have been able to go to from The Container Store.

When I first started at The Container Store, the store hadn’t opened yet, we were in training.  We stood in a large circle in the store while a trainer was talking.  A woman, I’ll call her Sue, stood beside me so close she was nearly touching me.  I thought to myself, uh ok.  Then, she put her arm around my shoulder very tightly.  I was at once on high alert.  If my face didn’t show it my body was trying to shrink out of her hold as I was thinking, What the fuck just happened.  At the same time I had no judgement or preconceived notion of her intention.  I’ve just never had a woman hit on me – that I recall.  If that was her intention or what happened.  I have no idea.  It just creeped me out.  My entire reaction was, Eeeww, yuck, and gross!

It was all a set-up.  To discover my trigger points and discover my reactions.

I will say this my departure from The Container Store and everything including my jobs has been very poorly planned.  Ninety-five percent of which has been completely unneccessary!

The first job after The Container Store I was forced to only use one door to exit and enter, otherwise I would never have used that door.  I still have no idea what my job was there as it seems they were still develpoing my job as it went which is a terrible mistake.

That gentleman helping me with my air-conditioner was a defining moment.  However, I would never have stayed at that job had I not been conditioned to do so from the previous job.

Walking into the Starbucks, seeeing that gentleman with his laptop was another defining moment for me.  It made me believe in the possibility of my employment.

It is a shame so much bad and terrible happened previously, since it has and is effecting my entire life still.  My current employment should have had the longest duration.  However, the time must be cut short.  My life is at stake.

I walked into a dealership today to get my key straightened out since it has been stolen.  Quite honestly, I went back a third time to make a point and name the person I believed should be in charge of helping me.

I know a person, or persons use a key to gain access to the contents of my car.  They spray accelerants – could be drugs for all I know in my car.  I believed I was walking into a door where the television could not see me, I feel tricked.  I am so tired of having to duck under and get out of the way of everyone’s television just so I can have my life back – to me.

Needless to say, my attempt to gain access and control over everything in my life – failed.  I have to replace everything the key touches in order to keep someone who stole my keys, my life, and my identity.  On top of which, actually planted false evidence in my own home as a means to control me.  Based on what evidence they chose to plant that evidence, I have no idea.

They told the story first as a way to control me which was not my story.

I know this post may appear criptic and out of context.  Saying something without actually speaking about something which is why my reality at the moment is fundamentally flawed.

No one can live in a virtual bubble without friends, relatives, family, and for me without a boyfriend or husband.  No one can live rushing from appointment to appointment, fixing one problem only to have another problem created, to fix that problem, only to have another problem to fix, etc.  It is not a life.

I was not meant to return to a pond, nor was I meant to be walked to death.  Isn’t that why he left that job?!

I want to live, but at the moment I see no alternative.

 

 

Ending

Life simply just does not exist here – where I am.

I am not used to living this way.  My whole life I’ve had living things around me in my home, my life, etc.

This is like living in some hotel with no personality or personal effects.  Actually, it is worse than living in a hotel because a hotel would have more personal effects and furniture.

I understand now why people don’t want to live in a place where they share walls with other people.

Looking for a photograph today, I came across pictures of me as a child reminding me of the very real pain that I can never bear children.  I couldn’t help thinking I would have had beautiful children.  A part of me I will not be able to have carry on.

Something else, looking at myself through the years – if no one else could – I saw the changes that happened.  My early childhood you could see the innocence, pure joy, and happiness not only on my face, but it affected others in the photographs as well.

Then, we moved.

Dramatically my face changed and altered.  Whether or not I was smiling my face is burdened with weight.

The first time we moved it was because my father had decided he was going to go to seminary school.  He didn’t even last a semester before dropping out entirely and never returned to school again.

The greatest memory of that time I have is him teaching my brother and I the Greek alphabet.  Quite honestly, I’m not sure he taught us, or I persisted in knowing about what he was doing until he thought of something that would keep me quiet.

We had a life and a home before we moved.  It takes years to build a life and a home.  People, friends, family members, and a home which is more than just things.  It is the memories you build and keep building your life around.

The move was very dramatic.  The strain on my parents marriage never seemed to leave me or my face.

I know my mother did not wish to die married to my father.  Decades she tried to divorce him.  Churches convincing her it was her duty as a christian woman to stay married.  Even after her strokes what she wrote about endlessly was divorcing and being divorced from my father.

I believe she decided in her heart that she was divorced.

No one but my brother might understand the truth I am writing.

My mother did not want to die married to my father.

In a way, I feel I let her down since I was not able to help her carry out her wish for a divorce.

My father should have divorced my mother since they did not live as husband and wife since I was very young.  He has/had many other women if not families.  He knew she did not wish to stay married to him –  he chose the cowards way and did nothing.  More importantly, he chose not to honor her wishes.

The sins of the parents, the problems they try to cover up in their marriage do not exist with just two people.  It affects the entire family outside even the immediate.

Problems in a marriage cannot be fixed quickly, but if and when problems in a marriage happen and they cannot be fixed leaving the problems to fester and cause further damage creates a ripple effect through the whole of society.  Like open wounds that ooze and puss, a band-aid will neither heal or help them.

A divorce probably would have meant other problems.  However, not addressing a problem, pretending what is real is not real and what isn’t real is real, not listening to the problem or concern, not taking your own ego out of the equation to hear the other person even if it is at the expense of your own heartbreak it is nothing more than a childish and juvenile notion of marriage and love.

When an ending needs to happen choosing to pretend otherwise is damaging for all persons involved.  It can also create some serious fatalities.

I have loved more than one man even at the expense of my own heartbreak.  Because as long as he was happy and had a full life, how could I not be happy for him in return?!

Perhaps not everyone loves the way I do – deeply and profoundly.

When it is real – it is real.  When it is not, no matter how many times you try asking it will never be.

Love and marriage can never be a metaphor – for there is no truth that can live in a metaphor.

Here I am absolutely isolated from the entire world.  It is an existence that has no depth or dimension.  I would never purposely choose this life, nor would I ever chose to give this life to any person.

My reality altered the day I understood the store I was working in was not real.  Since then, I see no possibility for a future, or happiness, or a life.  For it is not possible with this existence.

The day that car crashed into mine has altered me dramatically.

I will not continue to believe in a virtual possibility.  I know for certain, I cannot continue the same way the last few years have gone.

I feel my days are numbered.  I feel the end of my existence ever closer.  I feel a door closing where there should be a future.  That is a problem for me, as I have never lived without planning and having plans for the future – that has all gone from me long ago.