Bluetooth Scouring of Memories

Don’t have time for details on this one.

In middle school, I was in eight grade and he was in seventh grade.  I forget his name, he was a good-looking kid, but he was in seventh grade.  Too young for me.  This boy however, had a crush on me.  He followed me for days.  He purposefully did not pronounce my name correctly.  I corrected him.  He mispronounced it, I corrected him.  Then, he – he thought he was clever – pronounced my name as Cherry.  He started calling me Cherry.  My eyes roll.  Then, he started following me and saying What’s eating you out Cherry?  Which made me mad angry!  I did everything I could to get this boy to stop following me and repeating, What’s eating you out Cherry?!

Until…

I was walking in the gym, he was to my left and behind me when I could not take the torment anymore.  I grabbed his arm, flew him over my back flipping him so that he landed on the floor to my right.

Breathe.

He was fine.  I did it so well and without thinking, he was unharmed.  Not a scratch.

I scared myself.

Because I was good.  What eight-grader flips a boy in the air without any training?

That was scary good.

Yelling – Pet Rules

GUESS WHAT?!

I AM NOT MOVING ANYTHING ANYMORE!  I AM NOT CHANGING ANYTHING ANYMORE!  I AM NOT CLOSING ANYTHING!  I AM NOT REMOVING ANYTHING!  I AM NOT MOVING OR CLOSING ANY MAGNETICS ANYMORE!

I AM NOT ALTERING MY PATH ANYMORE!

I WILL DO THE SAME THING, WALK THE SAME PATH, PARK IN THE SAME PLACE, AND I AM NOT BELIEVING IN YOUR PET RULES ANYMORE!

FIRE CHELSEA HANDLER!

OF COURSE, THAT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE TO ME IT LOOKS, HAS LOOKED – AND THE BLUE TOOTH KNOWS IT – THAT THE TWO ARE WORKING TOGETHER!  SO, OF COURSE, I WOULD DESPISE WORKING FOR DAVID WOLFE KNOWING HE WAS WORKING WITH CHELSEA HANDLER TO HURT ME!  BECAUSE CHELSEA HANDLER SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN ALLOWED ACCESS!  THIS DOES NOT EXCUSE DAVID WOLFE BY ANY MEANS BECAUSE NO ONE SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO ENTER MY HOME WHILE I AM AWAY, OR ALTER PRODUCTS IN ANYWAY!  LET ALONE, THIS IS A BASIS FOR A SHOW?!  FUCK YOU!

FUCK YOU!  FUCK YOU!  FUCK YOU!  FUCK YOU TO INFINITY!

YOU WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO RECOVER WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME DAVID WOLFE!  EVER!  

BECAUSE THE WAY I SEE IT THAT WAS THE WHOLE REASON AND PURPOSE FOR IT TO BEGIN WITH!  OTHERWISE YOU WOULD HAVE DONE THINGS DIFFERENTLY!

I WILL LOATHE YOU UNTIL THE DAY I DIE, DAVID KAHIT WOLFE!

 

 

Ugh!

You know I used to be able to drive.  I didn’t have to think about it.  That was long before the days of only being able to drive in the police lane.  I used to be able to weave in and out of lanes because I could feel what the other drivers were going to do.  I knew where they were, where they were going go go without thinking about it.

It’s what I loved about my Toyota’s they handled the road the way I llike.  I could make great lines with them.  I went to Target once, pulling into a parking spot.  The car next to me looked like they were going to mess their pants.  I hopped out knowing I had been inches from them, but I knew where they were and where my car was.  I knew it was not a problem for me.  It was a way I challenged myself.  Because I knew I could do it.  It was fun for me.

Too bad those days are gone.

In my previous blog I wrote about the abuse of the handicapped bathrooms.  When I took care of my mother, it used to make me insane that abled-bodied persons used the handicapped stall in what seemed for no other reason than to have an executive washroom.  I mean, bathrooms with 10 or more stalls completely empty, but you have to use the handicap stall?!  Ugh!

So, tonight – against my principles – I had to use the handicap stall.  Of course, I would never have thought about the picture on the other side of the wall.  Because my brain doesn’t work or think that way.  How could it?!  It can nor will never be woman for me?!  So, how could I possibly think like that?!

Dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of.  If you think about it, you’d understand.

Coffee and Breakfast: Food Letters

Anyone else tired of living off of microwaved food that keeps you alive, but just barely.  You’re not really living.  Well, that’s how I feel.  This is going to be a long one, but I am sure anyone who reads this will be able to scroll.

This first one is to the airman I heard.  I swear I heard and saw a flyer, but I could be crazy it wouldn’t be the first time.  And who does that anyone?!  Who hears a voice and sees them?  Who looks at a person and knows them?  I don’t know.  Too much room and space for doubt.

However, what I saw when I heard him and how I felt like spending time when I heard his voice was a long casual night.  I saw spending a nice night outdoors.  Sitting at a great wood table under a pergola, or perhaps a canvas overhang that still allowed us the view of the stars.  Sharing a few bottles of wine, perhaps both red and white, or maybe just red.  With a spread of tapas to nibble on.  I was thinking of several kinds of olives, a variety of nuts, some slices of cheese – I would have to go to the store to be inspired by the specific choice, I was thinking of something not generic something atypical – some dry salami, some great crusty bread of rosemary with kosher salt on top to dip into olive oil with salt and pepper.

Talking into the night, sharing stories, having fun, just relaxing, no pressure, no struggle to fill awkward silence.  I might tell you the story of how when I was visiting Florida with my family for the first time –  I think I was thirteen – when we went to Circus World.  It changed hands to Baseball City.  Now, I don’t think its open anymore.  However, when we went to Circus World, we went to see one of the shows under the big top.  We were early, there weren’t many people yet seated.  We were trying to catch a break from the oppressive heat.  Thirteen on vacation with my family, sweating balls, and an employee approached me with my family to participate in the acrobat show.  I was thinking, do I have to?  I wasn’t really interested.  I was a teen-ager, I was grumpy-sweating, you get the picture.  They put the apparatus on me, hooked me up, then I climbed the ladder to the top where a clown was waiting.  Can you believe this?  I am not sure they would do this anymore?  No waiver signed or anything.  I mean, thinking of it now.  Anyway, the show started, blah-blah-blah, and its time for me to swing.  The clown goes to give me some chalk for my hands.  I kid you not, I started a fight with the clown.  It was playful.  The audience was laughing.  I batted his advances with the chalk away.  Eventually, I swung through the air several times before falling to the net.  I could have done it better.  I needed to swing more with my legs.  It looks like acrobats use their arms, but I felt it was mostly legs.  The show ended and I am still in the ring as the audience is filing out.  True story, I had random audience members coming up to me telling me how funny they thought I was, almost gushing.  Truthfully, it is the kind of effect I used to be able to have on people if only in a crowd.  I was not nervous.  I never used to get nervous about being in front of people, or a crowd, or performing – ever.  Until, nearly everyone was gone from the big top, my legs started to wobble.  I recovered quickly.

If we are still enjoying each others company and we are still hungry then, I would make a Dagwood sandwich.  I make the best sandwiches.  They are a reason to eat a sandwich.  A Dagwood sandwich of meats, cheeses, lettuce, tomato with salt and pepper, onion, cucumber, sprouts, potato chips, pickles – I think that’s everything.  For dessert, since it is spring I was thinking of a strawberry shortcake.  Made with broken up chunks of Angel food cake, strawberries that have been macerated in sugar with a little lemon.  Topped with real whipped cream – not from a can – and grated nutmeg on top.

Anyways, just for fun.  Just my idea of a casual, fun, relaxing way to enjoy each others company.

Ok, maybe it’s not so long of a post after all because I am tired, my body is broken, and my mind has been spent.

Good night and good morning.

 

David Wolfe and James Franco

You need to admit your colossal and epic failure.

This marriage proposal has not been real and only been a way to keep a story line going.  At the greatest, this marriage proposal has only been to that Edison character that I NEVER WANTED TO SEE AGAIN FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!  Yet, you have allowed him access and to be near me.

I will never be able to look at the three of you in any way again!  My heart and mind will not change from this.  What you did was WRONG!  You not only deceived me, but you deceived the public into thinking I actually believed this story line.

You force me to be curt and unkind to space.  Because what I want is all three of you OUT OF MY LIFE ONCE AND FOR ALL.  I have been screaming it for years.  And, you knew this.  All the way back to when it happened in 2014, you knew I was never going back.

I am ashamed of knowing any of you.

Time has not made your wrongdoings and mistakes any better.

How could a woman ever think highly, with respect, or affection of a man who has cut her off from her own family, killed her cats, cut her off from the entire world, taken away all her friends, not allowed her to speak her own mind, share her feelings, get upset when she has a right to be angry, or allowed physical contact with real man flesh?!

You have not allowed me to have equal opportunity.  All of you have been fucking whomever you choose while I have been nothing more than a sex slave without the ability to have a real man, and a real relationship.

While feigning love for me?!  I don’t think so.

Worse still, your actions tell me you believe I am a woman with no self-respect.

David Wolfe and James Franco, you need to admit my logic, reasoning, and thoughts on this matter are important, have value, and are greater than your game.

You deceived me.  I never deceived either of you.

I never deceived you.

End it all.

 

Summer in Oregon

Most days I woke up late, made a big breakfast – usually an omelet – then, set off on my bike to Mt. Hood Community College where I spent the day at the pool.  They had two olympic-sized pools.  One inside and one outside.

This is Oregon.  The saying is you don’t tan in Oregon, you rust.  I always went to the outside pool, unless it was closed for some reason.

I made a big breakfast because I didn’t have money for snacks.  This is middle-school and high school.  I left Oregon my sophomore year.

I am pretty sure the pool was free for some reason.  Student maybe.  I spent the whole day there until I rode my bike home.  I am not sure it would still take 45 minutes from my house to the college now.

This is Oregon.  They have bike lanes there.  This was the eighties and they had bike lanes.  Florida is so far behind.

Unfortunately for me, we left before the Light Rail opened.  We should have stayed.  I could have taken the Light Rail to Portland.

I would come home from the pool with the smell of chlorine clearing my nose.  I loved the exercise, the outdoors, the freedom of my bike.

When in middle school, they had the greatest lunch program that just started.  They had a salad bar.  I piled my plate with everything on the bar – high.  And, I ate it all as I laughed and made all my class-mates laugh with me at lunch.  I was the thinnest I had been except for now.  It has probably gone out of fashion or trend salad bars, but as a kid you need to eat food.  I love vegetables.

No one monitored how much food I had on my plate.  If I had too many garbanzo beans, cottage cheese, lettuce, spinach, three-bean salad, and so on.  It is my favorite all-time school lunch.  The salad bar.

Now, in 9th grade I took a class at Mt. Hood Community College for high school credit.  I took a mime class.  I had been in productions at MHCC.  I was in Amadeus.  Plus, I saw productions there.  I saw Chorus Line there.  It’s a proper theater.

One assignment was to go on stage and mime an activity, then the next person did the same thing as the person previous, then added something.  Then, the next person did the same as the previous persons, added something, and so on.

When I did this exercise, the feedback from my teacher was I did it wrong.  I did not do as the person previous had done it in the exact same location on stage as the person.  I did the previous person’s mime, but I did it where the light was the best on stage.  Hardly bad feedback.  This is how I understood that feedback, Cherith you did the mime exactly the same, however you improved upon it instinctually.

Cut to Florida years later.  I went to Ruth Eckerd Hall and saw Marcel Marceau.  Inches from the stage.  With craned-neck as I looked up at the stage, I got the experience of learning something I never expected.  I was so close I could see the lines and wrinkles in his face through the make-up.  He was fantastic.

This was still the eighties when the Pierrot clown were so trendy and popular.  Mime and Pierrot’s are out of fashion now.  However, what amazed me most of all at Marcel Marceau was his breathing.  He did not exhale at the expected movement.  I don’t know how he did it.  It was fascinating to me.

He died shortly after I got to see him.

Amazing.

I wish I could have written this better, however I am tired and off to bed, three loads of laundry later.