Declassified Files: A Series of True Events Being Brought to Light

All the ways I have dreamed, imagined, thought about, planned, and desired to kill myself since 2014 when I realized that nothing in my life is real.

The Bluetooth (please, do not confuse the Bluetooth with blues music which is not the same thing at all) has been completely and fully aware of, yet done nothing to prevent it, or keep the cycle from repeating itself.  Because the Bluetooth is not a microphone, or a recording device.  It is a complete and total invasion.

Also, it was not only the Bluetooth that has been aware of my constant depression, I have told others, tried to get help, tried to reach the end, and been denied.

I believe these thoughts are not of my own mind.  Because I have never lived (as a figure of speech referring to a state of mind) here before.  In my life before 2012, I have not been a depressive person consumed with destroying myself.

The man I dated, slept with, and ended the relationship, was not real.  He misrepresented himself in order to gain access to me and my home.  Perhaps he did it to prove a woman, or women, or person’s that they were wrong and prejudice in their perception, identification, and viewpoint of me.  However, the result of the deception was lethal.

It took something from me I will never recover from.

Having gone through my memory over the last few decades, I have also discovered all the surveillance, keeping tabs, checking up on, drive-by’s – which include David Wolfe driving by in a van as I walked to my Painting With A Twist class wearing my Levi jeans (do not get these Levi’s confused with the reason I wore my Levi’s to the gas station) – have not allowed me to live a full life, including being able to have access to men, finding men, and dating real men that I would be interested in.  It has held me prisoner, and kept me separate from the world.

Not everyone has God moments.  Not everyone goes to Dachau and has a conversation with God.  Not everyone while driving your fiancée’s Bronco back to the dealership on wet asphalt from the recent thunderstorm, yet the sun brightly shining skids out-of control closes her eyes only to open them after the vehicle stopped finding I’ve been placed safely between two light poles without a scratch on me or the vehicle.  Not everyone feels or talks to animals.  Not everyone sees a flash of light shine across a crowded hospital lobby after spending hours and hours in constant begging and prayer, and sees the diamond earring float through the people in the opposite direction as if he is not of this world.

Not everyone has God moments.

All the ways I have imagined killing myself:

  1. Hanging myself with rope.
  2. Hanging myself from my balcony.
  3. Slitting my wrists.
  4. Slitting my wrists while in a bath tub.
  5. Hacking myself into bits with a knife.
  6. Slitting my throat.
  7. Overdosing on aspirin, pills, a combination of pills.
  8. Ingesting bleach.
  9. Setting myself on fire.
  10. Setting my hair on fire.
  11. Putting a match in my gas tank.
  12. Killing myself in my garage.
  13. Putting a hose from my tailpipe to my head and falling asleep from eternity.
  14. An ice pick to my heart.
  15. A knife to my knife making sure to get in between the bones of my ribcage.
  16. Stabbing myself repeatedly in my bed.
  17. Shoving a knife in my cunt until I am dead.

Cycle.  Repeat.

As a footnote: Whatever words I say…I will always love him.

Declassified Files: A Series of True Events Being Brought to Light

Sad, sad, sad, sad, sad, sad, sad.

Sad.

Sad.

Sad.

Sad.

Sad.

Want to die.  Sad.

Sad.

Bad, sad.

Sad.

Sad.

Sad.

Kill myself, sad.

Sad.

Bad.

Sad.

Sad.

Unhappy.

Sad.

Sad.

Sad.

Don’t want to live sad.

Sad.

Sad.

Sad.

Sad.

Sad.

Sad………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Declassified Files: A Series of True Events Being Brought to Light

This must be said, what has taken place for so many years has been nothing more than misleading and misdirecting me.  My definition and the way my brain views and believes in vision does NOT equal or match in ANY way the way my life has been handled, or cared for.

What gives someone the right to surveyal another person for years and years without cause, authority, or permission?

I am unable to completely share everything I want to today.  There is a great demand for my time and attention.

August 2, 2017

David Wolfe:

What the fuck, Kahit!

Not for all the money in the world do I ever want to see you again!  Nor hear you, nor see you again!

You said, you didn’t know what was going on?!  You knew.  You’ve known.  For everything that you have put me through since The Container Store I never want to be a part of your life in any way.

If I had the ability to find and get another     , I would be so gone.

There is no going back.

Cherith J Gjestland

 

Declassified Files: A Series of True Events Being Brought to Light

I had been trying to involve myself, so that the Bluetooth could NOT take complete credit and control over my responses and interpretations.  However, things changed quickly once I started sharing this with my other computer.  I believe as a means to keep the REAL TRUTH from being told.

Smile Series: Thank You

June 18, 2017

Stan Lee – it was so brief there is not much to say.  He seemed surprised.  He is not his age either.

Ellen Page and friends – At the group job interview Jake made a comment that sort of put Ellen down.  He tried to play it off.  I stood up for her saying I didn’t appreciate the way he spoke to her.  Then, as everyone was leaving I went to her and made sure she was ok.  She said she was, and I believed she was fine.  So, I left.  I got nothing from that encounter, however from yesterday she was a bit of mischievous energy.  It’s not too bad or out of control.  What I didn’t have time to finish yesterday is that kind of energy and behavior is completely unacceptable at the workplace.

Thomas from HCC – Sorry, I don’t have more on this one, I can barely feel or see that memory anymore.

Keanu Reeves – I will always be a Keanu Reeves fan.  I wish they had never ruined this experience for me.  Did I enjoy 47 Ronin?  Yeah, and I am such a Keanu Reeves fan.  I am such a dope.  Dragon-Con?  Still a Keanu Reeves fan, but I will do what’s best for my gas situation.

BBC America

Jada Pinkett Smith – I believe we spoke at the airport about the weather.  I have no else to add to that.

Clouds – I wish there had never been a laundry tech to ruin my experience.  I believe those clouds are the most creative!  I just love them!  I can’t help myself.  I don’t look at them and think of babies.  I just think they are so amazing!  It must bother people to no end that there are clouds in the sky, but I could look at them all day if it wasn’t for the fact that I am working 7 days a week.

Sorry, Rebecca.  It works how it works.  I’m sorry I’m not always able to give attention or my eye when I’ve had such bad experiences.  But, I do appreciate your nurturing spirit.  It’s what I saw beyond the get up.  As always, I’m sorry people have to be up all night.

Rob Marshall – We’re having a hard time selling the pink ladies.  Calm, at ease, with something else underneath I can’t explain – curious maybe.

Robert Patinson – Gave me the FU bird which was meant in kindness as a greeting of fun, wonderful, and truthful sincerity.  I had been made miserable, so I was unable to respond or appreciate the moment.  Also, I believe he may have been in the garage below me.

Jake Gyllenhaal – It’s hard to go back so long.  It must have been hard to talk for so long about nothing.  He was working and not enjoying it a bit.

Declassified Files: A Series of True Events Being Brought to Light

An assignment I wrote in college, 10/30/2002

SwineZ

Walking in the wilderness

Along trees with lofty canopies

And stubbly twigs below,

I realized the lateness in the day

And the emptiness in my stomach.

Being a highly evolved fur-lined carnivore

Albeit with shiny white teeth that glimmer with glee,

I partake only of ground bound nutrition

And wash it down with a milky bean.

A cavity in the forest appears and a modest

Thicket house stands in the middle.

From the tiny cabin the smell

Of tofu sautéed and marinated

Dripping in juice

Grabbed my stomach

Which caused my mouth to salivate and drool.

In a sprint,

I rapped on the door

Bound and determined

Soy beans are mine.

Soy beans are mine.

Anticipation fueled my hunger

As I waited, not quite like Job, for someone

To let me inside for a smidgeon of Buddha’s Delight.

No one answered.

Nothing happened.

A flip from my stomach and immediate action

Was the only logical step.

I wondered aloud

Huff

Puff

Ba-low.

A small voice I heard

But ignored.

Evolution reversed upon itself

When my hunger could not be filled.

Huff

Puff

Ba-low.

A pile of dried grasses lay before me,

Swanson stood in the middle holding

The bon vivant of my ravenous desire.

With a pounce, the pot and swine dashed

Through the woods.

Quicksteps brought me to a twig-lined house,

Overflowing in bean curd glory.

Wince from acids, which form in my belly,

And my fascination.

Huff

Puff

Ba-low.

From the tips of my toes,

I hold to my dying strength.

Huff

Puff

Ba-low.

In the stubble of saplings,

Swanson cowered as Tyson

Held the succulents.

Closer I stood

Reaching for a morsel

Whoosh

Was all I heard.

Heavy paws carry me to a mortar-lined abode.

Drained of my former self,

I pound on the door.

Huff

Puff

Ba-low

Horizontal I stood,

And walking into a bright light.

I hear soft, hushed tones

Swanson, Tyson, and Jimmy Dean

Giggle out loud.

Soy beans are ours.

Soy beans are ours.

Declassified Files: A Series of True Events Being Brought to Light – Sarah’s Star

Since all of my files and paperwork has been searched through for years now, I thought I’d share this before it looks the other way around.  I wrote this in college 2002.  I have worked on several versions of this story.  I started writing a screenplay with this storyline, plus I also expanded the short story.  Neither of which I have fully written yet.  Parts of this story I am uncertain if they are truly my words or if a clever person who should not have been in my house changed some words…nonetheless.

Sarah’s Star 

There was a strange quietness in the street leading to her house.  Sarah had taken almost all back roads from the meadow where she had been amusing her friends with stories of monsters before dinner.  An alley with a hole in the fence between the butcher and the florist shop, where the butcher discards innards and juices, and the florist leaves empty boxes that were used to store delicate and fragrant flowers.  Sarah stepped carefully but quickly, she did not want her mother to yell at her for holding up dinner by having to wash up.

 

As she quickened her footsteps to her house, she became more aware of the absolute silence.  The lampposts seemed to loom over her and watched her as she walked.  The buildings on all sides grew taller and leaned forward onto the street.  The decorative wrought iron fence that enclosed the little square of Mrs. Petersen’s rose garden became a sea of sharp spikes.  She thought she heard a growl as she passed, but she was mistaken.  She could hear nothing.  She could feel no wind, and the late afternoon shadows began to play tricks on her.  She quickly rounded the corner to the backdoor of her house and flung the door open.

“I’m sorry if I’m late,” she had started her sentence when she noticed the dishes and bowls of uncooked vegetables and potatoes still on the counter.  The stove was still lit, and one burner had completely cooked the pot dry.

“The stove is on,” she yelled out as she turned off the gas.

It was just past dusk, and the house was too dark anymore to see without turning on the lights.  She couldn’t find the switch in the living room without fumbling and knocking over the few precious trinkets her mother liked to display for company.  She went upstairs thinking her family might be trying to surprise or trick her because she was always playing pranks on her family.

The first room at the top of the stairs belonged to her crazy, sick aunt, who had been staying with them for too long, and always kept her door closed.  But now, the door was not only open but also lying on the floor.  She didn’t need to count the number of broken and torn furnishings for the air itself had changed.  As she entered the ceiling seemed to close in on her and crush her lungs.  Images of her family, panic-stricken and attempting to escape while being brutally arrested and taken from their home flooded her mind.

Sarah grasped at her chest frantically searching, but she couldn’t feel it.  Where had it gone?  She felt the back of her neck and could feel the chain, then followed it downward until she could feel it.  She held it tightly and closed her eyes.  With a breath she opened her eyes and open the locket.  Looking at the portrait of her mother and father, tears that had been building got caught in her throat, taking a breath to calm herself she heard a noise.

Sarah looked frantically for somewhere to hide as she heard a car come screeching to a stop just outside her house.  Remembering her mother’s formal dress was stored in a hidden closet, she dove head first into the closet.  Her mother’s only good dress was housed in a framed garment bag that could hold two dresses.  Sarah unzipped the bag and climbed inside.  She was seventeen years old, but her slender, underdeveloped frame told her age closer to fourteen.  A she finished zipping up the bag, she heard someone smash the front door open.

“Auf machen! Auf machen! Schnell!  Schnell!”  She heard someone ordering.

She heard a handful of people in her house breaking dishes, and throwing furniture, yet through al the noise she heard a creak on the stairs.  The sound of well-polished boots making their way upward grew louder.  The strength in her legs left as her pounding heart flooded her ears in deafening bursts.  The smell of expensive American cigarettes slithered towards her nose almost gagging her and making it even more difficult to breathe inside the bag.

“There is no one downstairs, Captain.”  A young solider shouted from downstairs.

“We haven’t checked the upstairs.” In a gruesomely seductive tone he replied.

The Captain’s voice spoke of late night brandy, and packs of cigarettes washed down with scotch.  His deep voice was smooth as gravel.

“Captain there is no one here, you saw a shadow,” belted the young solider downstairs.

She could hear the well-polished boots suddenly stop, then slowly turn on the carpet.

“I am mistaken, am I?  Who else agrees that I am mistaken?”

Sarah could only hear silence, and she gripped tighter to the frame that housed her trying not to pass out.  Then she heard the cocking of a gun.  She closed her eyes tight and squeezed her lips closed to keep herself from screaming.  Beyond the booming of her heart, she could hear nothing.  Finally, with relief from the silence, she heard a bang and a loud thump.

“I smell starched white cotton and damp leather shoes that have been in fresh dirt.  And I am not mistaken, ever.”

Chills of disgust covered Sarah’s body as the Captain’s words penetrated her ears.

The well-polished boots resumed on the stairs.  Each step echoed throughout her body.  She could feel him walking, each step became louder.  Finally, she could feel his hot breath filling the small closet.

“Because their minds are so simple.”

Sarah heard footsteps of the other guards coming up the stairs.

“God made man first.  Women were made after man.  Do you know why?  Women were made to serve man in any way he desired.  If that wasn’t true he wouldn’t have made their skin so soft to touch.”

The Captain’s words slithered on Sarah’s skin, and she could feel bile rising at the back of her throat.  Then, from across the street Sarah heard a rifle shot, and a solider screaming in agony.  A second shot came from the rifle, and the solider stopped screaming.  She heard the Captain run to the window and commotion on the stairs.

“We have a sniper in the house across the street, everyone to the front of the house.  You and you, come with me to the back.”

The soldier’s scrambling was all Sarah could hear.  Then, shots were fired back and forth, and it sounded as though the sniper was picking off the soldier’s one by one.  Sarah could hear the soldier’s yelling in the street.  Then, a car started up with such a panic that it screeched on the pavement and sounded as though it burned the rubber off its tires, as it grew fainter from her ears.

Silence crept back into Sarah’s ears and it seemed even more deadly.  Unzipping the bag slowly, she tried to control her breath and her heart from panicking.  She grabbed a coat and boots and headed for the back door darting out the door and into the now darkness.  Creeping along the shadows, she slowly crawled backed into the hole in the fence.  Knowing there were woods beyond the meadow, she started to run towards the safety of the woods.

Faster and faster her feet moved.  Her mind was running just as quickly.  Only a few hours ago she was telling of fantastical realities and laughing about it, yet now she felt as empty, as the hollow truths she made up in her stories.  The scenery was no longer recognizable.  But, she heard water.  Stopping to take a good look around, she realized she heard a creek.

Sarah knelt to wash her face and hands.  She could see the moon in all its fullness in the reflection of the water.  The damp, cold night air was filling her lungs and chilled her.  Thankful for the coat now, even though it was cumbersome during the running.  She sat on a low tree limb and watched the water flowing over the rock bed in a continuous cycle with no end.  Trying to calm her frantic breathing, she closed her eyes.  Suddenly, someone covered her mouth from behind.

She tried to flee from the grasp, but it tightened.

If I take my hand away, you must promise to be quiet.  Are you going to be quiet, or do I have to report you?”  He said and slowly removed his hand.

“I though I was alone here,” she tried to say with courage.

“You are never alone in these black woods,” he said.

“I am sorry, I’ll leave now,” as she tried to run off, but his hand gripped her arm so tight she tried not to scream.

“Were you going somewhere?”

Just then her locket swung around her neck, as he twisted her back to face him.

“What’s this?”

“Please don’t,” she begged.

“It looks like real gold.”

“It’s the only thing I have left of my family.”

“What do you care about your family?”

“Please don’t take it.  Please.  I can’t even remember what clothes my parents wore today.  Please, at least met me have the pictures inside.”

“A blue floral print dress, navy slacks with a white shirt and a striped tie.”

Gasping for air, “What?”

“I came too late.”

“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand.”

“Follow me.”

Sarah was unsure of the stranger and felt trapped to follow him.  They started walking into the woods.

There is a small cabin near a watermill.  On top lies a weathervane with a star on top.  In that cabin, hidden in the attic, walls, and under the floor are a dozen people like yourself waiting for the train to Holland.” Henri explained.  After an hour, Sarah pleaded for a rest and he conceded.

They sat down on the dewy ground, leaning against a sturdy oak for support.

“I was in the cellar getting the canned beets my Mom wanted for dinner when I heard them,” Henri struggled.

“I locked myself in the cupboard behind the string beans and pickles.”

He continued talking, and she could just make out the fine features of his profile in the dark.  His hair was dark and wavy, and looked blue in the moon’s shade.

“I don’t know why God didn’t let them find me.”

Sarah noticed his face changing for a hardened man to a scared boy hiding in a cupboard.  She took his hand and stroked it gently.

“It’s been eight months,” he said.

“Do you have a rifle,” she asked.

“I used one today.”

“I didn’t know anyone was following me.”

“I saw you leave and followed you out the fence.  I thought you might know a quick way out of the city.  I was surprised when you headed the direction I was going.”

Henri looked down and Sarah had fallen asleep leaning against him.  “Okay,” he said as he closed his eyes.

“Wake up now!”  Henri shouted.

She opened her eyes so quickly that the sunlight blinded her for a minute.

“We have to leave now!  You have to get up and run now!”  Henri continued.

“What, I don’t understand,” was all she could blurt out.

“In the bushes on the other side of the creek, I spotted a couple of the Reich.  We must leave now.  We must run there as fast as possible the truck leaves at 8 o’clock this morning,” he said.

She jumped straight up and started running with as much speed as she could muster.  Henri was behind her, she hoped she was running south towards the peak, she still had a hard time seeing clearly.  Branches seemed to appear out of nowhere and slashing niches into her face.  Uncertain of the direction, once the sun started to filter through the trees she righted her direction.  After a half an hour of running, she saw the sunbeams.  She realized she had reached the star on the weathervane a top the cabin near the watermill.

“Wait until I am in the house, you go into the watermill and find Sonja.”

Henri with much speed darted into the house.  Then, she quickly sneaked into the watermill.  She looked around for signs of Sonja, but the watermill was deserted.  There was no one.

“Please step outside,” came a threatening and familiar voice from outside.

Her heart sank as she heard the steps of well-polished boots walking towards the door.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he whispered.

Sarah stepped out of the watermill.

“I knew I could smell your dirty flesh.  A soulless animal like yourself could never outfox me,” snarled the Captain.

With that remark Sarah looked at the Captain and saw him for the first time.  His uniform was well fitted with sharp edges.  He stood much taller than her.  His hands and face were freshly washed smelling of woman’s perfume.  But, as she looked closer she could see the pores of his oily skin.

“What a tasty morsel, I think I shall eat her,” as the Captain smelled Sarah behind her ear.

She didn’t speak.

“I want to know where the base of your operation is.”  I know you are working with him,” he said.

She spoke nothing in return.

“Maybe I will let you live if you tell me the details of the operation,” he said smiling.

She did not answer.

“I know you aren’t capable of too much, girl!  But, I want to know what house is the base of your operation,” he insisted.

He grabbed her by her shirt and pulled her towards him, she could smell the lies as he spoke.

“I want to know now,” he growled.

He slapped her across the face and she was thrown to the ground by the force.  The star she had worn for so long on her breast was now lying in the dirt.  She slowly stood up and brushed the dirt away.  She lifted her head fixing her gaze on the Captain.

“Do you remember the house in town by the rose garden?  She said.

“Of course, I remember,” he snapped.

“I have been running people in and out of that house for months right under your nose,” she said calmly.

“Is that right,” he snarled.

“At least ten people are hiding in that house now.”

She could see his pride swell as he smiled.

“Please don’t hurt me.  I told you the truth.  If you hurry you might be able to round everyone in the house,” she pleaded trying to disguise her false sincerity.

His hand rested on his hipbone.

“What makes you think I would ever care about hurting someone as ugly as you,” he said.

A warm trickle fell down her cheek.  The ground hit her face so sharply, she thought she must have broken her jaw.

Henri saw the bloodthirsty Captain leave Sarah quickly.  His ego and pride allowed him to believe her lie.

Henri came rushing out of the house and held Sarah’s body.  He could see crimson bursts flowing over her star on the ground in a steady continuous stream.  The smell the gunpowder mixed with the sticky warm smell of her blood filled the air.  In the morning light, he could make out a bright star above the cabin.  Henri’s eyes were fixed on the star, he had never seen a star while the sun was out.

“Looking at the star Henri said, “We’ll name that Sarah’s star.  For it is shining even though it is daylight.  Just like you, Sarah.”

Declassified Files: A Series of True Events Being Brought to Light

If you haven’t noticed, I’ve stopped playing your game, and your rules.  If you haven’t noticed I am not worried or thinking about the days of the week.  But, then you never notice anything.

I want to retire from show-business.  I want to retire from employment that has forced, lied, manipulated, distorted truths, stolen years of my life, and kept me from having real love in my life.

Every single day I work.  Every single day.  Every moment of my awake life is work.  While I am sleeping I am still working and being worked upon.  Not a single person in the entire world lives or works in this way.

I want to retire for good.

You had to make it sexual.  You had to make it about men and women.  You had to make it about having to fight to prove my sexuality.  How fucking dare you.  How many people have died at the hands of persecution, injustice, prejudice, and hatred because of their sexuality.  Which is why there are laws in place to protect all persons from being harassed and violated.  However, I have been the subject of reverse prejudice because I was born straight, and not for a moment have I ever been even a tiny bit gay.

You had to make it sexual instead of it being about the art.  Letting the art exist up there on the screen and on the stage where it belongs.

Often I have wondered about my Morning Star products that I used to buy and was the only one in the house – typically – to eat them.  Is it possible to ingest a chemical or something which would induce bleeding?  Which would make a person anemic.  Because while caring for my mother I ignored my periods that lasted three weeks or longer.  My long-time family doctor has come under my suspicion since the last time I went for a doctor’s visit to try to get away from all the air-spraying that goes on beyond my control.  Keri Russell played the part of my doctor for part of the time.  Can you possibly imagine what a violation of privacy – not to mention laws protecting doctors and patients – it is to speak about wrongs being done to you only to have another facade and actor keeping you from receiving help?!

There are laws in place.

Also, it is not possible to be allergic to women which is something that started with Alfredo and Rick at TCS.  Being born straight is not the same as being allergic to women.

So, I’ve arrived at the conclusion that if my doctor is capable of lying about that visit, she is capable of lying about anything.  Including the fact that I need a hysterectomy.  For what reason would someone want to deprive me of being able to procreate and reproduce?  Why would someone sterilize and castrate me?

Why would someone place tracking devices, recording devices, and other hi-tech equipment into my body?

Why would a dentist give me so much Novocaine I was frozen and numb for 14 hours?  Why was my dentist at Smile Wright replaced?  Why was I given instead of a root canal a chip or receiver in my tooth, so that my thoughts could be read?

I am so ashamed at humanity, and human kind to do this to one of God’s creatures, me.

While living in PC the X-box and TiVo, I believe had been hacked into and camera and/or recording devices placed in them.  To watch me.

I have no idea why anyone would do this to me.

Please do me a favor and stop feigning that this is all about love.  I know and have known there is not a man who would wait and abstain from all emotional and physical relationships with women while this forced captivity is taking place upon me.

You have emotionally starved me to death.

I am so devastated by the betrayals, by the truth that had once been between David and I lost and gone forever, by all the disguises that are not in any way clever, by the humiliations that you will never be able to heal.

An actress does not make $12 an hour.

There once was a woman named Cherith, and she lived.  But, she is no longer.

I miss being able to work out the way I want to.  I miss being able to cook, prepare food, and eat the way I want to.  I miss being able to be a part of the world, and not locked away in forced isolation.

It taints everything.

And, I know what I look like anymore.  I used to be pretty.  I used to be the pretty I liked to see in myself.

No one understands the stress I feel.  Taking a shower or a bath, I am constantly saying to myself, now what is going to happen?  I wake up and say to myself, now what is going to happen?  I drive and say to myself, now what is going to happen?  Everywhere I go I am constantly having to look over my shoulder.  It is a constant strain, now what is going to happen?

Can you possibly imagine six years without a home of any kind?  Or a foundation?  Or roots?  This place is not a home, but a set.  Can you imagine living in a set for six years?  Every other reality show only lasts for a few months.  Big Brother is only for a few months at a time, not years.

I was originally made to understand that this would only be a year or two which has now turned into four years.

I do not believe anyone enjoys or believes in my singing which I do around the house just goofing off.  If someone heard my singing and believed it was good, they would have stepped forward out of the woodwork and offered me a contract and deal.  They would have told me.  They would have admitted to listening to me, and told me to I was good enough to be recorded, in a studio, and offered me a contract without the bull-shit coded talk of these years.

A lot has been mentioned about me not drinking when I write.  I want to clear this up.  I wrote about it before only to show and prove that I do not have to enter a chemically altered state in order to be creative, or write.  It already exists in me.  Without inducements.  It has been taken greatly out of context.

While working at TCS, I should have gotten the truck promotion.  I should have been hired as the sales trainer.  My point being there isn’t any reason why I was only hourly.  Meeting with Christina from Miami for the promotion, am I supposed to believe that was a celebrity?  Am I supposed to believe that was Angelina Jolie?  Because as I told Eric on our date afterwards I thought it went well.  I was “coached” to be pushy, take over, and make sure I was noticed.  However, the feedback I got was that “Sally” who always looked like a linebacker to me.  “Sally” who I’ve said before I thought was James Franco was probably Dave Franco, “Rick” was James Franco.  Just not always.  Yuck!  It just makes me sick!

When “Erin” got the truck promotion she called to invite me to The Seminole Hard Rock, since I was always looking for a way out of these four walls I agreed to go.  However, I called Rachel and asked her to go with me because I was a little creeped out.  Turns out it was a good instinct because Erin invited all her lesbian friends.  It was a set-up.

Unfortunately for me, one great lesson I’ve learned from all of this is that it is not possible for this straight woman to be friends with a lesbian.  Never in a million years would I have believed this scenario still takes place in this day and age.  However, that is what they proved to me through all of this.

I find it disgusting, disheartening, appalling, and a down right shame that that is the lesson I had to be taught.

Harrison at TCS, they wanted him to work at TCS.  He was one of “Erin’s” cronies.  I am not drawn – for lack of a better word – to men who are feminine.  I made the comment that I thought he was gay.  It is and was not a judgement.  However, no one but David Wolfe probably understood the amount of fire I held within me.  Due to the screaming matches we held against each other.

Stuart Shapiro is a good example.  I loved Stuart dearly.  There isn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for him.  We celebrated Christmas at my house one time, he told me he thought my singing to There can Be Miracles had an extra special quality to it.  We laughed all night long into the early morning hours.  Laughed hysterical, unending-can’t-stop-myself-from-laughing laughter over toasted cheese sandwiches, and something about batteries.  However, the thought of kissing him…no.  It was not that kind of love.  I still love Stuart.  I still remember the Christmas present he gave me.

I shouldn’t have to prove or tell anyone about the kind of men I like.

Wouldn’t it have been better to allow me to just meet these men rather than placing disguises on them?  I can only believe it was designed for me to never meet, or fall in love.  It was all used to make fun of me and nothing more.

Every day its like no time off at all.

Continue reading “Declassified Files: A Series of True Events Being Brought to Light”

Declassified Files: A Series of True Events Being Brought to Light

I would like someone to explain to me how this can happen.  How it possible for this to happen to anyone.  At the moment I am unable to finish that line of thinking.

I miss daylight.  I miss being up with the sun and sleeping at night.  I miss being able to be outside.  I miss being able to go running outside.  I miss being able to have friends.  I would say I miss dating, but none of those dates were real, or memorable, or exciting, or real romance.  Yet, at the moment I want nothing more than rest, and leave the world behind.

I could go on for an eternity describing and sharing all of the celebrity sightings which I still to this day do not understand why they’ve been placed in front of me.

What I see anymore are people who are doing work they want to do.  I will have to address the rest of that thought another time.

At the moment I am stomach sick.  It is the only way to describe it.

I will have to rewrite my literary journey again since it is gone from my last blog.  It would flood these previous years, and cast new light on previously held perceptions.  Not every person has God moments.  Not every person can see, feel, and understand a writer just from reading their work.  Not every person sees the world not as it is, but what is beyond, what it can be, what it should be, and what is yet to be.

Let me explain something.  I went over this in my previous blog.  Climbing Fences.  There was a story told often to me.  My brother was like Dennis the Menace being able to roam about the neighborhood without getting dirty, or like he had gone anywhere at all.  I wanted to go where my brother went.  I wanted to be with the boys.  I was not a doll-playing girl.  I wanted to know and be with the boys.  What are they doing?  Where are they going?  How are they doing that?  And, so on.

The story is, I went following after my brother only to return home quickly with splinters covering my hands.  I wasn’t able to climb the fence.  I must have been more than a sight since it was retold to me so often.

I wanted to know what was on the other side.  It is a state of mind that has never left me.  I want to know.  I want to know everything I can before I no longer am able.  What’s wrong with that?

New Orleans, LA: I was hungry.  Imagine that.  I could not decide which restaurant to eat at.  I sat down at the bar of the small restaurant I chose.  Red-headed man behind the bar looked to his left as he was describing the specials saying, I’m a little busy.  A gay-pride flag on the wall, so I moved to a table.  No offense.  I shouldn’t have to live like this.  I honestly, have no idea what that would have meant at all.  Since, it does not enter my equation at all.  He spoke quickly and the fried soft-shelled crab sandwich is what I remember.  I did not order it.  The idea of eating shell did not appeal to me.

Excuse me, I have such indigestion it’s embarrassing.  I cannot begin to describe how bad I feel at the moment.  My brain is fading quickly.  This bad food because of my driving route is killing my brain power, not to mention the pressure washing bringing me down, and depressing me.

I stopped for gas on my way to New Orleans in 2015.  A bright, smiling, serene man was just standing on the corner who looked like Steven Spielberg.

CJ’s Sandwich shop: Jude Law behind me at checkout.  Also, at Disney near the front lobby area.

A few days off feel like nothing at all.

Declassified Files: A Series of True Events Being Brought to Light

02/02/2018

19:14

Answering the phone while working at Home Depot walking down the aisle of door locks I listened to a voice who told me without saying the actual words that he wanted me to go back to K-Mart.

Perplexed.

I was in desperate need of clothing at the time.  I had less than a handful of clothing items to wear.  To this day I do not understand the reasoning behind it.  To this day I do not understand why Adam Levine would call me at my employment, disguise his voice, and then ask me in no uncertain terms was I to have or wear the jeans I purchased at K-Mart with his logo on them.

I did what I was told to do.

Interesting note, The New York Times: I read about Maroon 5 – playing in art houses and galleries trying to get noticed before they were Maroon 5 – in the New York Times which I used to have delivered in PC.  I wanted to know and read about what was going on in the world beyond the corners of my small town.  I used to take the paper with me to the chiropractor’s office.

Also, I read about Jim Baker’s son starting a church full of non-stereotypical Christians wearing tattoos, piercings, with punk hair and clothing.  I met Jim Baker’s son when I was working at WORSHIP.

While working on the Obama campaign I attended an event as staff, Republicans For Obama, at Sun City Center.  There were reporters covering the event.  I woman with a made up name for Creative Loafing, and a man.  John Cock-something-or-other for The Tampa Tribune.  He was a real reporter, staring at me with dubious eyes.  She was a fraud playing a part.

As all my paperwork and computers have been gone through any person could have done the work and placed the pieces together.

I have done for years now, what I was told to do.  Since, I have been made to feel and believe that others and the world believe that I am a bad person, immoral, and a pervert.  I have continually with exceptional effort gone out of my way to prove I am not the person they project on to me.  My voice, my choice, my rights have been taken away from me.

I did what I was told to do.  For years.  And, I have been treated to cruelty, punishments, forced masturbation’s, sickness, and a total lack of privacy.

The forced masturbation’s are nothing more than a prostitution ring.  Random men, or random persons – for I am not able to SEE the other person viewing me naked, watching me masturbate, taking a shower, going to the toilet, walking around my house, driving, or any other mundane activity.

Can you imagine your own daughter being treated to cloaked, invisible, and disguised men watching your naked daughter?  Can you imagine your own daughter being watched by random men as she is bathing herself?  Can you imagine your own daughter being pushed and forced into masturbating in front of random men?  Can you imagine your own daughter being locked, confined, forced against her will into a sex ring?

What if it was a female co-worker?  Or young girl?  Or a female teen-ager?  Or neighbor down the street?  Or the cashier that helped you in a store?  Or a woman you saw walking down a street?  Or a woman you saw driving down the road?

Would it be acceptable to you if it happened to any of these women?

So, why is it acceptable for it to happen to me?

I did what I was told to do.

Again, I repeat.  I have no idea who is on the other side of my vision, or glass.  I am not able to see the other person.  It could be anyone for all I know.  Words spoken mean nothing because it cannot be proven who is on the other side.

Is there a log book kept of entry and exit?  Is there a time stamp?  Is there documentation of any sort on the other side other than myself telling the world – this exists.

I did what I was told to do.

So, I went to see a movie.  After only two hours of sleep, I was not able to do everything on the check list, and get to the movie when I wanted to.  I missed a lot.  What I did do specifically was wear a t-shit that reads, No Means No in black and white for all the world to read and see.  I chose black and white because I should be the only person to decide what man I want in my bed.

Again, I repeat – I am not “Erin’s” daughter.

I specifically wore my Nike shoes because it was David Wolfe disguised as Alfredo Cruz at TCS holding the green crunch can excitedly pleading me with his eyes.  Which is why I also wore my David jeans.

I did what I was told to do.

I have looked when told to.  I have returned items when told to.  I have driven when told to.  I have gone places when told to.  I have bought things when told to.  I have purchased things when told to.  I have masturbated when told to.

ENOUGH!

The whole reason ANY of this is going on now is because of ME!

My brother’s KIA that I used to drive my mother in every day singing as I went to relieve the stress and take me away from the confines of my life had hidden microphones in it just like my vehicle now.  They created that collision, so that I would be a slave to my car payment.  Because I was free and clear in my Toyota.

I did what I was told to do.

I saw Vanessa Redgrave behind me while listening to the radio and singing along to the music, so I could get some energy out.  Are the lyrics an exact reflection of my mind, thoughts, and beliefs?  No.  They are not.  They are someone else’s lyrics.  Five Finger Death Punch, singing about washing it all away.  I sang along, and I was punished, and treated to a vicious attack on my hands, body, and mind.  My faucets in my own home.  The filters in my faucets were treated to viruses is the best way I can describe it, so that my hands were covered with painful, prickly sores.  So, when I brushed my teeth, my toothbrush, my mouth was also infested from the inside out.  Because I dared to choose and turn at red.  My red.  My red which the Bluetooth knows and is aware of – is David.

There you are, echoing in my head after the visual.

I did and have done what I’ve been told to do.

So, I wore those shoes in protest to the virus attack and event which robbed me of my creativity, my humanity, my hands, my health, and the time it took to heal.

All because I dared to use my eyes.  All because I sang along to a song.

So, just like in A Few Good Men, I wore my shoes in protest to bring justice to what should never have taken place to begin with.

Also, I am the ONLY one who spends every day off and free time – WORKING.  For free.

20:17

edited: I woke up at 18:30, made my breakfast.  Yet have not been able to eat it – working.

20:55