Cherith's Attorney Only: This is work Cherith gives for Cherith's Attorney Only as Cherith is suing for control over her own life!

I was a General in an Army of four.

I had Sniper focus.

And, my orders were followed.

This is how my days and nights went as I took care of my mother.  I felt like a solider in battle cut off from the rest of the world.  Every day, every moment battling her strokes.  My mother, brother, father, and myself were my unit.

This is how I saw myself, as a General.  It was the only way things were able to run and get accomplished.  And, my Army knew it.

I am suffering more than you know at the moment, so I have to end this quickly. Continue reading “Declassified Files: A Series of True Events Being Brought to Light”

Reasons I will not marry an orange t-shirt:

This is not a complete list.

• Because of Edison.  You lied about Edison.  You misrepresented Edison.  He was not who he claimed to be.  You about how I actually felt about Edison.  Because you killed me and sentenced me to die when you placed Edison in my home knowing how I would react, and respond to such deception.
• Because these years of eye glasses happened.
• Because you cannot undo damage once it is inflicted or happens.
• Because once you harm someone, once you harm me – there is no comeback, there is no sorry, there is no apology that makes it ok, or go away.
• Because of all the things I have had to get rid of because of the Bluetooth, eye glasses, and management that NEVER should have happened or been allowed.  Including, but not limited to:

1. My hope chest.
2. All my elfa.
3. Nearly every piece of clothing I owned including bras, underwear, socks, and shoes.
4. All my make-up, beauty cleansers and moisturizer’s.
5. Nail polish.
6. Manicure kits.
7. My headboard.
8. My laundry basket.
9. Every thing I ever received from The Container Store.
10. All my posters.
11. Thursday.
12. Tuesday.
13. Because you made me lose my cats, Thursday and Tuesday.
14. The stairwell.
15. My home in Plant City.
16. You turned my life into this horror of a game that I cannot stand, it does not allow me to have a life.
17. My bar stools.
18. More furniture than I can remember.
19. Because of my belly.
20. Because you cannot undo Edison.
21. Because I am uncertain if I can ever let a man – who was born a man – ever touch me again because of Edison.
22. Because of Edison, I will never look at David Wolfe the same again.
23. Because of what you did to my belly and my vagina.
24. Because of the experience with Edison, and these years that have followed no man will ever want to touch, or be with me again.
25. Because no man is allowed near me.
26. Because I am not allowed to have a real and normal life.
27. Because of the cameras that never turn off.
28. Because of the monitoring that never turn off.
29. Because you failed to understand what the experience of living in a house that is alive could do to a person, and has done to me.
30. Because it is Tuesday afternoon, and I am still sick from Monday morning.
31. Because you allowed me to be burned – more than once.
32. Because you broke my ribs.
33. Because you burned my arms, my wrist.
34. Because you broke my arm in the car crash.
35. Because you crashed my car.
36. Because of the weight gain.
37. Because of the button pushing.
38. Because Bella is a fictious character, I am a real woman.
39. Because Bella did not have to work.  She had access to unlimited money, lived in an expensive house, had so many clothes she only had to wear them once, she never had bills to pay.
40. Because a tire is not a real man.
41. Because no man finds the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with, and leaves her alone for years.
42. Because of the show.
43. Because you cannot undo what you have done in the show.
44. Because I have less income and money now than I ever had in my whole life.
45. Because of the bankruptcy.
46. Because I will never be able to complete this list.

Sitting in my usual place, I have my magazines placed, my homework laid out, my pen, my pencil, my highlighters set out, I’m plugged in, and I’m taking calls.

Just another work day for me.

The great thing about working an early morning shift is the time in-between calls.  I was usually able to get all of my homework done while waiting for the phone to ring.

This morning, it’s 5:30ish, not quite 5:45, I’m talking to a man with an accent on the phone.  Everything is fine.  Phone calls are the same.  You say the same thing over and over, and over again.  It’s rote.  You know it so well, there is no way to un-know it.

Thank you for calling Embassy Suites…

The great thing about working for a hotel chain, wait – okay, there is more than one – I learned geography, I learned geography all over the US, and the world.  Everywhere there was a hotel, I was able to learn about that location.  So, I learned the difference between The Peabody in Tennessee, and Peabody (Pe-Ba-dee), Massachusetts.  Dulles, Va. and Dallas, Tx.  Nacogdoches, Tx. and Natchitoches, La.  These are different locations, yet sound similar.  So, knowing the difference and being able to communicate the difference to customers over the phone is important.  I’m saving the company money by doing my job well.  I’m saving the customers hassles by having their reservations at the correct location.

Secaucus, NJ.  I need a room in Secaucus, NJ.

The other great thing about working for a hotel chain is the discounts.  Being able to stay at the hotels at such a discounted rate afforded me the ability to not only travel, but travel to the hotels which allowed me information that I could not get by reading my computer screen.

I want to check-in now.

I stop him there.

If you would like to check-in now, you will have to pay for two nights.

It’s not something most people know when staying at a hotel.  The same.  The answers are usually the same.  It can be mind-numbing.  Being able to answer a question that has not yet been asked.  Because every phone call was just about the same.  You had a list, things you had to say in order to pass your evaluations as an employee.  For me, I did everything the same, same manner, same order, that way there could be no mistakes or confusion.

Ok.  He said, as if it was not a problem, or money was not a problem, or he had already known that he had to pay for an additional night.

Sir, for your party size you will need two rooms.

Ok.  Also, not a problem, as if he had been well-prepared.

It’s so early in the morning most of the supervisors are not yet in, however there is something new on my computer screen.  A note about training at 10:30.  I have no way of knowing if this is real information, or just something on my computer screen.  It happened.  Sometimes, it happened.  IT worked in the live system that isn’t always information, or real, etc.

Training room, 10:30: It was a real note after all.  We are being trained on a new way of communicating.  I have to interject comedy into the very dull, dry, and boring training.

I disagree.

I disagree a lot.

I disagree with the way things are run.

Starting when I was just a kid in school, and I thought kids shouldn’t have to take the school bus.  I thought kids should have their own roads, so they could drive themselves to school.  Kids would be separate from adults, so no one would get hurt.  Independent thinker from an early age.

People are laughing.  This is how I’m known at work.  And, I’m allowed to interrupt and make the class laugh because it is improving the work environment, and facilitating the information.

I raise my hand to ask a question about what I am reading on my computer screen.  The trainer cannot answer my question, and sends us back to the phones.

Then, it happens.

The crash landing happens.

News about the crash happened, and I am off the phone.  Nearly the whole floor rushes to the break room with the brightly colored walls, to watch the news, to see the planes hit The World Trade Center.

It’s a shock.

It’s horror.

It’s the unthinkable.

It…

How…

What…

It’s shock.

It’s shock, and I am scrambling.  My mind, my head, time…what?!  How long have I been off the phone?  I am looking around at my co-workers for answers, for help because I have to talk to people to understand what I am seeing.

It’s shock.

Sitting down across the way, a blonde man (I forget his name) who wore glasses, whose brother also worked there, the more intelligent of the two brothers, tells me he thinks its terrorists.  What?!  Terrorists?!  They really exist?!  I had always thought terrorists were made up stories like the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, and the Boogy-Man.  Terrorists?!  What?

The top-level leaders are out in the break room watching the televisions which is unusual for them to be seen out of their offices.

I get to leave work early that day.  Whew!  I go rushing to school.  It was my schedule.  But, cars are leaving en masse from the school as I approach the parking lot.  I drove past people who looked like they are telling people and cars to leave.  This is unthinkable.  I have to get to school.  I have to get to class.  It is my schedule.  However, when I arrive my teacher is leaving.  The school is shut-down?  How is that possible?!  No, I can’t go home now.  Shock.

Eventually, I leave school to watch the news with a friend from school.  Brandon Ale House.  We, the Thespians used to go there after rehearsals to hang out.  I just couldn’t go home yet.

There are two people who I worked with while at the hotel chain.  There was an older man, late fifties, early sixties who I loved to pieces.  He had a younger work buddy.  It happens.  Work buddies, work husbands, work wives, people need connections, so usually you pair up just like in life.  He had a younger male work buddy who followed him wherever he went.  He was fun, I loved to talk with him and make him laugh.  I loved him to pieces.  He scared me half to death, one time.  Upon greeting him in the hallway, he picked me up, lifted me over his head.  I nearly died.  I was so embarrassed.  I was so embarrassed by my weight.  I weighed probably 175 – 185 lbs.  Plus, he was so much older than me, I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.  But, I did love him.  To pieces.  He was a favorite of mine.

The other person was a woman I remember stopped me at my locker and said, you look like Jodie Foster.

This is where I tune out.  My eyes are rolling in the back of my mind.

She said it more than once when I worked with her.  Was she trying to call me gay?  I have no idea why or for what reason she called me Jodie Foster, however I ignored her from that moment on.  I was at work.  It is not a place to create discord, or make enemies.  It is too easy for problems to arise.  Like I said, I ignored her, and tuned her out.  Yeah, yeah, whatever you say…someone says something so dumb to me…I mean, come on.  Her opinion of me does not make me.  Her opinion, or anyone else’s opinion of me does not make me…me.

I define me.

I defied her by ignoring her, and not engaging in conversation with her other than polite work conversation.

Now, I am at home.  I cannot move from the television.  I cannot stop watching the news.  The BBC became my favorite channel.  I was so taken aback at the emotion of the reporters from the other side of the world upset, worried, concerned, and wanting to help.  Wanting to help people they didn’t know.  For a country that was not their own.  It moved me.

Unconsolable.  How long did I stay in front of the television?  Weeks?  Months?  I could not abide anyone who was not moved, or shocked, or marked by the Sept. 11th event.

Try and have a nice day.

Try?

Try.

Try?

Try…

Try?

This is a focus puller moment for me.

This is where the world stops.

This is where my periphery goes away.

This is where it is just he and I on the phone.

Try.  Try?  No, this is a problem.

Now, my brain is working.  He is an educated man, but not an Ivy league education.  If he has a degree from one of those schools, he did not do the work himself.  There is no background noise.  I literally could almost see him over the phone.

I had talked to him about being able to see The World Trade Center from the hotel.  I had just been to New York City, and The World Trade Center a month before.  It was very current in my mind.  So, all those images from the WTC, and the crash, I had just walked in the same places that were now gone and destroyed.

It could have been me.  It could have happened when I was there.  I felt transported.  Everytime the news was on, I felt myself in New York City, in that place.  It was a sort of limbo.

The new reports when the crash first happened were almost screaming at people to report and share any information at all.  Then, a few days later it was as if reporters were telling people to shut up.  Too much bad information, and we the public, were overloading those who were trying to get the real information.

Try.

Try?

No, try.  No, this was a problem.

Now, most people might have instantly picked up the phone to call in the tip.  You cannot be surprised that I did not call it in.  For the reason is not complicated at all.  Doubt.  Doubt had entered my mind.  Why didn’t I remember the phone call before?  Why did it take me days to remember it?  Did I make it up?  Did I remember it because I wanted to be someone who could help.  I didn’t want to be the person who wasted the time of those gathering information.  Would it actually be useful?  Would it actually help?  Was it actually real?

Doubt from the new reporters is what stopped me from ever reporting the phone call.  However, in all these years the memory has remained the same.  Try.  No, try.  No, this is a problem.

Inauguration Day 2013, I am standing in line with other Organizing For America staff alumni waiting for the DNC to open the doors – freebies.  I am standing with my arm in a cast which I had chosen black since I wanted it to match my formal wear for the staff ball.  Luckily, my jacket fit over my cast.

I had nearly frozen my feet off, as I had not anticipated standing on The White House lawn that the ground would have been so cold.  It chilled me from my feet up.  There was the group who shared their heat pacs with me to help keep me warm.  There were the two men from Idaho, was it?  Or somewhere rural that didn’t quite seem to fit.  We had church together – is what I called it, singing on The White House lawn.  There was the older woman who remembered her place with her group by looking for my hat.

So, I am standing in line now, waiting for my freebies when I start a conversation with a man from Texas.  We got on the subject of movies.  I start talking about Zero Dark Thirty, and the great thing about movies.  Movies have the ability to create history.  So, I said the greatest thing about Zero Dark Thirty is that for all eternity, what will be known is that Osama Bin Laden was defeated by a woman.  One woman.

It is more powerful than words.

In a culture where women are regarded as less and not seen as being worthy of education, or rights, or free speech.  A woman defeated him.  A woman.  One woman.

Please, for clarification do not take this out of context.  Of course, it was more than one woman.  There were many that helped, men and women that were involved, however the message for all the world to know from Zero Dark Thirty is that one woman defeated Osama Bin Laden.

Now, follow me for just a second.  If instead of hiding women, and keeping women from being more powerful, or simply keeping women from having the choices in life up to them, they allowed women equal access, and equal opportunities what could happen in their countries, and in the world?  In a region of the world with such great resources what they could possibly accomplish?

Now, I believe I have been assessed and permanently wronged.  And,  my body is permanetely disfigured because of it.

Not an interview.

Not everyone has God moments.  Not everyone walks a concentration camp, and has God speak to them.  Not everyone has Katherine and Heathcliff moments.  Not everyone sees people over the phone.  Not everyone has the ability to take snapshots and photographs in their mind.  Not everyone is given a sixth sense.  Yet, when they cut open my stomach they took that sixth sense away from me, and the ability to see beyond.

Speaking with “Aubrey” on the phone after my Toyota was totaled, she said she called to ask me how my interview went.  To which I replied that was not an interview.  The white pick-up truck – I still remember the exact location of this conversation – to my right, I saw the driver turn and look at me as I said this.  So, obvious to me, he was listening to my conversation, and in a taller vehicle so he could see in my car.  I mean, I wasn’t doing anything wrong.  I am not a criminal.  I had nothing to hide.

Yeah, I have no idea what that was, but that was not a job interview.  I have no idea what that job was, I told “Aubrey”.  For nothing about that place read correct.  There was the cop car under the bridge as I drove up, there was the silence in the parking lot, there was the emptiness of the building, there were the people I spoke with, there was the quirky receptionist who asked me to face the picture on the wall, there was the other applicants, there was the lack of supplies in the office that said no one works here, there was the turn the interviewer made toward the window when I asked him a question he couldn’t answer, there was his tone of underestimating and not understanding the work I had just done, etc.  Just to name a few.

It’s tough work, he said.

I tuned out.  I am rolling my eyes in the back of my head.  I just elected a President.  I am more than capable of selling televisions to people who already want to buy them.

Tough work, please.  You must be joking.  That man had no idea what tough work actually is.

One night, while watching television as I am making sure my mother’s sleep is not interrupted by another stroke there is a helicopter outside so low to the ground I thought they were going to land.  It sounded as if it was hovering over the house that had just done renovation work turning one of their bedrooms into a closet.  They posted pictures on Facebook.  I thought it was a beautiful closet.  I looked at all the details, it had a chandelier, shelves and shelves, it was pretty.

So, assessed and wronged because I believe there were those that knew it was not possible.  I believe that was a real call.  I believe I was called afterward to understand me since I took the call.  But, they knew.  It doesn’t take very long to know me at all.

Not possible.

I am one of those that it is not possible.  Can, I be misguided?  Sure, anyone can.  But, possible with intent.  No.  Never.  Not possible.

And, it was known.

Yet, I believe there were others that distorted the truth because it is what they wanted to be the truth rather than actual fact.

So, I am greatly grieved.

I am at an unrecoverable loss.

 

Going on three days in a row in the same pajama’s, and it is not looking good.  I don’t want to shower because I am not allowed clean soap.  I don’t want to wash my hair because I am not allowed clean shampoo.  I don’t want to clean my clothes because I am not allowed clean laundry detergent.  I don’t want to change my sheets because there is no clean laundry here.

It is not looking good.

I think I am going to start vomiting after I eat.  Because I am not allowed food that isn’t connected to someone else’s idea of a show.  Not my idea.

I never want to return to the show again.

I am devastated again at the loss of David.  You do not pick a man like him up at a bar.  Women will never replace him.

It is a loss I would rather have died from since I am not allowed to truly live anymore.

Bad.

For the fucking record, I am not a method actor.

This is the only way this will happen:

Before it is stolen by the Bluetooth again and someone else profits from my thoughts, here is my pitch for a new show, I developed.

It will no longer be a reality show.  It will no longer be a shopping show.  It will no longer be a delivery show.  It will no longer be a neighborhood show.

It will be something entirely different.

Something never before seen or streamed on television or on-line.

The only thing that will remain the same is the filming in real-time from the parking lot to the return to the parking lot.

Glee>meets>Fame>meets>Dancing With The Stars>meets>Baz Luhrmann>meets>Rob Marshall.

• The set will be modified and changed.  It will be cleaned up somewhat.  There will be an orchestra on set, playing in real-time along with the show.
• Real actors and dancers will be hired for the show they will have contracts.
• 1, 2, 3 – GONE
• The game of doors, game of walking, game of toilet paper – GONE.
• All games will be – GONE.
• It will no longer be 10 hour shifts.  Time frame and schedule TBD.
• There will be rehearsals.
• There will be costuming and budgets.
• The stations will no longer be reflection stations.
• It will be a real television show, in real-time.
• The Truman Show – GONE.
• Star Wars – GONE.
• There will be real camera’s.  Actual camera’s not just the ones installed on the ceilings.
• It will no longer be a Bluetooth show – GONE.
• It will be about movement from one person to another throughout the whole building being used.  Like a ballet, like an opera.
• There will be very little dialogue.
• It is possible there can be singing while working.
• Guest musicians can also join the orchestra – TBD.
• Guest actors, celebrities, persons could join episodes – TBD.
• It will be a seasoned show.  It will no longer take place every day.  With number of episodes TBD.
• I, Cherith Gjestland will be brought to the table with executives and discussed in full detail as an equal, as a creator of the new show.  I will have an agent, publicist, etc., and I will discuss my salary.
• It will no longer take place in my home.
• It will no longer take place on my computer.
• There will no longer be situations to solve.
• It will be a real show without the classification of the government as it always should have been.
• It will no longer be a survivor show.
• It will no longer be a race show.
• It will not be a guessing game show.
• It will not be an animal show.
• It will be music, it will be movement, it will be camera work, it will be costuming, it will be characters created.

This is in no way a detailed list.  It is merely my pitch for a new show.  Title – TBD.

I am so hurt by you Sims4 for what you have done these last few days.  If yo think I am scrutinizing every single description and detail, you are mistaken.

I hope your happy.

I am so sick of this life I never asked for or wanted!

I am soooo over this stupid SHOW!!!

I am beyond upset!

I am beyond words!

I am beyond speaking about it!

Painting a person black, is not art.  I have said it since it started happening – it is so disgusting and disturbing I cannot speak to it.

Putting on a show where you make and force Cherith to guess the celebrity, guess whether they are in disguise or not, whether they are painted or not, whether they are a man or a woman, disguising men as women, disguising women as men – IS NOT ART!  Anyone can do that!

I am too upset to speak about what you are sharing with the world when you out on a show like that.  I would and am not willingly participating.

I am not interested not now, nor ever in dehumanizing any person for the sake of entertainment.  I am not now, nor am I ever interested in taking away a person rights, a person’s ability to object, nor belittling them in any to make them feel less than important, capable, and powerful.

I will not now, nor will I ever marry a man I do not know.  It is the dumbest thing I can think of.

I am so upset!  I am not writing!  Not a good sign!

My point in sharing and writing this, is this has been the worst experience of my life.  I would not wish this life on any person.  It has changed me so completely into a person I cannot stand to look at anymore.  It is my opinion that matters most since I am the only one that has to live with me.

David Wolfe, these last fours years happened.  You allowed them to happen.  It changes everything I have ever felt about you – ever.  I never want to speak or see you again for as long as I live which may not be so long.  You allowed something in me to be killed.  You cannot change or alter that fact.  You allowed this to take place in my body.  I saw you on your motorcycle heading the opposite direction from me on the way to Moffit.  The small black man in the orange Dodge challenger with the Obama tag in front of my vehicle.  This has been the worst experience of my life.  I would rather have died!  It is not something you get to say sorry for.  There is no comeback from it.  You have imprisoned me, starved me, forced fed me, violated me – you got your wish, you will never speak to me again.  And, you have never had the nerve to speak to me in person.  All those times.  All those opportunities, you could have approached me – you never did.  You never will.  That is who you are.  James Franco is just an actor.  He is not a man of any character.  He has been trying to force me to marry a skin-suit for years.  He is a disgusting human being.

I do not forget it was you, David who called me, drove by my house – not me.  You have changed everything David.  This hurt you’ve caused cannot be erased or apologized for.  There is no excuse for what you have done.  None.  None.  None.  None.  None.

I will forever be angry with God because of you David Wolfe.

I will never speak nor write anything positive about this experience, this house ever in my life.  So, how the fuck did you ever expect it to end anyway?  Other than with my suicide.

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

I swear to God, you will live to regret what you did to me tonight!  No means, I will never, never, never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever marry you!  Forgive me for having an ACTUAL brain, and the ACTUAL ability to use it!  I will never marry a man I do not know!  I will never marry an orange t-shirt!

I am forced to turn my car around in my garage!  I have in no way agreed to any marriage of any kind what-so-fucking-ever!!!

I have never purchased gum and ever BELIEVED that I was agreeing to a marriage of any  kind!

You will live to regret what you did tonight for as long as you live!

Forcing someone to masturbate is NOT art!  Any one can masturbate.  It requires no special art of any kind!

I will not EVER marry YOU!!

Not Ever!

I only created police characters in Sims4 because there is an “Erin” look-alike in the game.  I want what she did to me brought to justice.  For all the times she has drugged me, for all the times she has poisoned my brain.  For all the times she has poisoned my mind.  The only reason I created doctor characters in Sims4 was to bring what they did to my body to justice.  They have disfigured me permanently.  I have said and written it before.  They did it for no reason.  I will never, ever believe it was a required surgery as all the doctors made me believe in 2012.  I cannot believe anything that has ever been said to me before anymore because of this neighborhood.

Go fuck yourself, Virginia!  I will never, ever want you!!!

I have stopped believing in my government tonight.  I doubt and do not believe there is any good to be found possibly anywhere.  Not anymore.  Not while you continue pretending any of this is real.  I doubt there is any good to be found in the government, in these borders, in this state, or anywhere.

The best part about watching Psych was how quickly “Shawn” is able to solve cases, then having to go back, slow down, and show the police how he “figured” it out.  In my head I said, I hate (do not take this word – hate – out of context) having to show my work to teacher, then hearing Rick Springfield laughing – HBO, Disney.  It is not that interesting.  Any one could have known that was Rick Springfield.  It is not art.

No, I will never marry you.