WE – DO NOT AGREE!

In case you were wondering David Wolfe, regardless of what I write – for I am not finished – what has happened in the past is in the past.  I find you disgusting and revolting.  It pains me every day that I do not get to be free of you.

I cannot believe how you used me and my pupils yesterday, I am so disgusted at how you have exposed me when it was not your right to do so.

Quite honestly, I would rather die than ever see you again.  I would also rather die than to continue living in this way.

I am so angry.

I have no idea why God ever let me meet you in the first place.  So angry.

I am tired of being used by you.

For you and James have been allowed to love, have family, have friends, and you have let me emotionally starve and wither away.

I will never look your way again.  My pants will be replaced when possible.

Twelve hours of sleep, and I forced myself to wake up and get up for I could have stayed in bed longer.  No one has any idea how hard I push myself every day.  This life around me is harder than anyone realizes.  No one understand the incredible stress upon my body due to the capacity of my brain.

Banana bread for breakfast.  I want a thick slice of banana bread loaded with banana’s and walnuts filling the air with its sweet warmth.  Nutella slathered on top oozing down the sides, more fresh banana’s sliced on top, glazed pecans rough chopped (not too fine) over the banana’s and bread, honey or maple syrup drizzled over plate and all.  And, I must have meat – feeling like turkey sausage, again.

I could have slept longer.

David Wolfe:

August 19, 2017

Dear Paul Watson,

I first became aware of you, Sea Shepard, and your mission while watching Whale Wars on Animal Planet.  I was surprised at how enjoyable it was to watch you and your crew defend animals.  It is a rare thing to come across people and persons who understand that animals are more than a food source, and that animals are sentient beings.  We have always had cats in our family ever since I can remember, birds and fish too.  Hearing you speak about your own personal story of how you came to greater understanding of animals I wanted to share with you some of my own personal stories.

As a family in my early teens we vacationed in Florida.  We visited both Busch Gardens and Sea World.  I was never a child that liked to wander off alone.  If you’ve ever been separated and lost at an early age it’s a lesson you don’t forget.  We all sat down in an outdoor auditorium for a show, then in walked elephants onto the stage.  The performer started to climb on the elephant to sit on top wearing shoes with a heel.  I cringed.  I squirmed in my seat.  I closed my eyes.  I cringed even more.  The trainer began speaking about how tough elephant skin is.  I couldn’t stop cringing, my insides, my outsides cringing.  I couldn’t stand to watch it.  It was not entertainment to me.  I disbelieved that the trainer could fully measure the nerve endings under the dermis of the elephant, or know the difference between the elephant being in pain and the elephant allowing the performer to walk on him.  I walked out of the auditorium.  The show had just begun and I had to walk out.  It hurt just to watch.

When we got to Sea World, the Orca show was one of the first things we did that day.  It is a huge auditorium.  It is also a very specific environment.  Mind you, I was interested and excited to be at these places, however it was not very long into the show.  I was overcome.  In that auditorium specifically, and on that day, at that time.  There was such a sadness that came over me.  It was heavy, not a screaming pain, it was an unbearable sadness like I had not yet experienced.  Sadness as a crushing weight as heavy and as expansive as the ocean itself filling the entire auditorium.  Sadness.  Sadness.  Sad.  Such sadness.  I believe it was coming from the whales, or whales talking to each other, or simply a whale – feeling.  Sadness.  Sadness.  It was so unbearably painful to feel the sadness.  I couldn’t sit to watch, I was not entertained.  Sadness.  Such sadness.

We eventually moved to Florida from Oregon.  Living in a small apartment, I was grateful for the ponds beside our complex which provided lots of wildlife watching.  We had a small raft that we would paddle around on in this very small pond.  Otters would come up to the raft curiously.  There were ducks, egrets, herons, and all sorts of birds.  It was a huge culture shock moving to Florida, so I took the opportunity to learn all about the wildlife.  I used to feed the ducks every day, so I could be outside and not cooped up in the A/C’ed apartment.  The ducks seemed to have greater intelligence than the Floridians I had met.  I named all the ducks.  The ducks could be flying in the air, and if I called their name they would stop, turn around in flight, and come to me.

So, Floridians.  One day I came upon one of the ducks I used to feed and he no longer resembled a duck.  He looked like someone had taken a baseball bat to him, killing him.  Rage like I have never experienced hurt and saddened me.  For maybe I was also to blame for feeding the ducks.  No animal deserves to be abused.

Half-singing, half-running, half-jumping, half-skipping my way into the kitchen of our apartment, my brother had been experimenting with something he read about removing tarnish from silver using boiling water, aluminum foil, and some other things when I did not notice the handle from the pot sticking out from the range knocking the boiling water down my leg.  I am sure I screamed.  Standing there in the kitchen looking at my knit pants wet-stuck to my skin, I heard my mother screaming take your pants off.  I am not kidding you, my first reaction was, I don’t think so.  I mean come on.  It’s funny where your mind goes even in an emergency.  Begrudgingly, I took off my pants.  The skin came off with the pants.  My mother quickly gets me into a cool bath as she is calling a nurse friend asking for advice.

Wrapped in gauze and fresh pants, I slowly began to sit down to watch some television.  Our cat, Barney who never behaved as a cat, but more as an English gentlemen patient with his human family, started as if he was going to jump in my lap.  I didn’t and couldn’t move too quickly or say anything fast enough when he jumped up onto my lap with a knowing I cannot explain.  He was careful.  He was cautious.  He curled up exactly where my burn was, and as if he had a timer he jumped down almost as though he knew his job was done.  There was no pain when he curled up in my lap.  There was never pain again from that burn, nor has there ever been a scar which I give Barney credit for helping me heal.

My beautiful cat Thursday that was adopted from a local vet, was one of the smartest, sweetest cats I’ve ever had.  He only had two claws on one paw, yet he still loved to jump.  However, sometimes he would limp after jumping down.  After moving into my current townhouse, he started peeing around the townhouse.  Usually at the worst possible moment.  I would run to him screaming what are you doing, you know better than to do that?!  I could see from his eyes he did not want to pee or do a bad behavior.  I could see in his eyes he had no choice.  I could see in his eyes he was somehow being controlled either through a silent whistle or some command that I could not see or hear.  It terrorized both he and I.  It is still unbearably painful knowing that my animals are used in this townhouse without my permission and my control.  I share that for a very specific purpose.  It is one thing to steal from me, take control over me, abuse me – it is another matter entirely to use and abuse my own cat(s) against my wishes and control.

Before I went to college, I took a trip to Boston.  Got off on the wrong train stop, and had to walk forever to get to the hotel in the brutal Boston heat.  Exhausted from the trip to the hotel, I collapsed on my bed trying to cool off in the A/C.  I did not have my eyes closed very long before I heard with absolute certainty my cat Mouse meow with unnatural pain.  I ran to the window to see if there was anything there.  All I saw was a factory – the NECCO factory.  Upon my return home, my mother told me how Mouse had become suddenly ill and had to be put down.  I asked for the time it had occurred.  It was nearly to the minute I heard him cry miles and miles away.

Babee Bear was named because he looked just like a little black bear, he had a Manx tail.  I was there for his birth, but was not prepared, nor did I understand how I could help his mother.  I left for a short time during the still-birthed deliveries to return to bodiless kittens.  Babee Bear was the last cat delivered whose mother could not get him to breathe.  So, I took the little black baby cat in my hands trying to work air into the lungs.  It didn’t work, and it didn’t work, and it didn’t work, and it didn’t work, and it didn’t work, and it didn’t work.  I don’t know how many times I gave up trying to will life into his lungs.  Finally, he started moving around and he came to life.  His mother rejected him.  She would not nurse him.  Because of that he had no personality at all.  To look in his eyes was to look into emptiness.  I worked an overnight shift, so sleep was precious and hard to come by.  One day, I took Bear with me as I went to sleep.  I told him he could sleep on the pillow next to me and he was not allowed to move while I slept.  I talked to him for a few minutes telling him of fun and playtime we would have when I would wake, and reminded him how long I was going to sleep, and for him not to move, just sleep while I slept.  I was surprised when I woke up to find him unmoved.  I don’t think he even walked around the room or anything.  I picked him up and took him with me into the rest of the house.  From that day on he was never a no-personality, or emptied eyed cat.  We had a real animal-human bond.  He would listen to me with understanding, he even did little things like lay his head on my hand while being examined at a vet’s visit.  Very few people get to experience a real animal-human bond like that.

Animals do feel grief.  I have witnessed it.

I had a cat Friday whom I called Friday because he turned his head as a kitten when I asked him what he wanted his name to be.  He loved the sound of the Ffff in Friday.  Everybody loved Friday.  Nearly every person that visited our house tried to take Friday home.  No joke, I mean everyone wanted Friday as their own.  I had a neighbor, Don who used to come by just to visit Friday.  Friday greeted every person that visited our home as if he was as important and valued as his human family, and capable of communicating too.

Sundae was named for what appeared to be ice cream scoops on her back that resembled a sundae.  One day she started having trouble breathing, the next day she had to be put down as x-rays revealed cancer throughout her lungs and her heart had nearly doubled in size.  Friday and Sundae had never been particularly close, yet when Sundae died Friday soon stopped eating.  He would come running at meal times eat a bite or two, stop quickly, and hang his head.  He started to stare out the windows at a single point not moving his head or body.  As if his whole body was alert, stiffened, on alert waiting for her return.  On occasion, he would walk into the room with such a stilled air it called my attention.  He would then slowly, carefully lie down where Sundae used to sleep, never moving, barely breathing.  Grieving.  It was more than sadness.

He started to lose so much weight I took him to the vet every day – even Saturday and Sunday the vet showed up just for me – for a week until I got up the nerve to ask the vet if it was helping at all.  You see, my mother had her first big stroke shortly after Sundae’s death.  One more sick or dying person or animal was more than I could bear or manage.  Graciously, the vet told me he did not believe it was helping Friday to get well.  I had no choice, but to put him down.  However, I believe he really died from grief, and the loss of his mate for she had the same last name – day.

Perhaps this is too much to share with you.  Perhaps, you may understand, or perhaps you might view me as crazy.  However, these experiences and more have caused me to believe animals are best when they are understood as more than creatures.  It is also a rare gift some people have being able to communicate and understand animals.  It is a rare gift to be able to believe beyond explanation too.

Thank you and your crew for all the hard work you do.

Sincerely,

Cherith J Gjestland

Originally, I wrote this to David Wolfe to have him pass it on, as well as , for his knowledge.  I believed he was aware, I just wanted to be sure.  However, all this information and events stored in my brain I cannot give away any longer.  I am putting the power back in my hands for irreversible damage has been done.  This friend of mine who betrayed and worked against me with other’s knew the consequences of her actions, and she chose not to defend me as a friend – something I would have done for her.  Ironically, this was written on my father’s birthday.  If I receive any more drugged wine, or if I never wake from it – at least I tried to warn people and the world of harm being done to me without cause or justification.

To Tammy Thomas Hoskins,

Who knows if Hoskins is even your real name.  I was suspicious of you when you called out of the blue after so many years.  I should never have called you back.  I should have left that phone call go.  The only reason I agreed to allow you to visit my home was for my mother.  I knew my mother would enjoy the visit, nothing more.  Luckily for her, her stroke did not allow her to see your deceit and truly deceptive purpose.

If you had not been such a good friend before I would never have visited you at your home.  “Logan likes you and wants you to sleep in his room.”  What the fuck?!  There was no hesitation in my mind, I was NEVER going to sleep in the same room as your son.  Suddenly, my friend is someone I do not know.  I could not reconcile that in my mind.  Who the fuck does that?!  Telling me all sorts of people sleep in his room.  Oh my God, I am so disgusted by you!!!!  I was shocked in that moment, but you had been a friend before someone I knew to be truthful, honest, and of good character.

Tammy, you drugged the wine you fed me.  I trusted you, and you drugged me.  All I wanted to do was talk about David for I missed him and for that, you had me drugged.

I am so grateful my mother never got to see or know you for the liar and deceiver you truly are.

Taking me for a walk to tell me your neighbor was a Private Investigator.  Knowing that I was fully aware of all the retired police persons in my neighborhood that the whole neighborhood was watching me, knowing that I went out of my way to let them know I had nothing to hide for there was no cause for them to be watching me as a criminal.

I told you NOT to come to the hospital when I had my surgery.  I should have made sure you were NOT allowed during my surgery.  You knew they were going to remove everything.  You knew there was no reason or cause to remove my female organs.  You knew the only purpose for them to sterilize me was to have me watched for the rest of my life.  You betrayed me as Judas betrayed Jesus, and just as easily too.

My guess is, I was not speaking to you on the phone when you told me of your husband’s car crash in South Africa where the only injury was his elbow.

I will never forget how a friend I had known for more than twenty years, who I prayed with, who I sang songs with, who I helped others with by letting them know of God, deceived and betrayed me.

You are truly a person of a heartless nature.  To see the devotion, care, and work I did, and betray me for it.  As if I am some sort of oddity when it happens all over the world families working under one roof to help each other due to finances, or illness, or some other calamity.

It is not as if I had men breaking down my door, or asking me out, or even showing any interest at all, so at least I was of use to my family.

Understand this, when I wrote in my blog about my best friend it was merely a figure of speech.  I was simply trying to tell a story – that’s all.

You are not welcome here.  I never wish to know or see you again.

 

Here’s what’s for breakfast: I am ravenous for some real sausage, my whole body – everything – is craving it like you have no idea.  This girl NEEDS meat.  Please and Thank-you.

Ok, fine – Phew!  I had a stress-filled day.  Can I tell you how much I despise a show-off?  I was being introduced, it was a change of pace, it filled the tedium while I waited.  But, I cannot abide a braggart.  It is something I have chosen to turn my back on.  Who likes someone who is only interested in the things they have done?!  I just tuned-out.

Phew, I am glad today is over with.  I am grateful for a break, more rest, and a chance to feel healthy and better again.  You know, how your body handles pain?  When you have been injured so severely that your mind and brain flip the switch and turn off?  A complete shut-down.  I believe the term is passing out.  I shouldn’t have to pass out weekly, daily, or even monthly.  But, I have been overloaded, over-used, and abused daily for years.

So, I am grateful for the rest.

Thank you.

Here’s what I have been thinking about: Baked apple, cooked with butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon, sprinkled with white or raw sugar for a good crunch in the bite.  Served with a helping of vanilla ice cream in the core – hang on, better yet French vanilla ice cream for the extra strong flavor, then dusted with cinnamon and nutmeg, and maybe some chocolate shavings.  Paired with espresso or a mug of fresh strong coffee.

Also, I want to make chocolate chip cookies, but I don’t want them all.  I want to share.  Made as big as my palm, and not with the chocolate chips you buy at the grocery store.  I want the semi-sweet bakers bar broken up in big bits with walnuts too.  So, when you take a bite the gooey chocolate melts everywhere you have to wipe your mouth with delicious pleasure.  Espresso or strong coffee.  I always prefer strong coffee.  I don’t see a point in anything less.

You know, I could make it for you here in this kitchen, wearing an apron and nothing else.  And no, I am not ashamed to say or write that.  I don’t think there is anything wrong in that.  I think that it is an appropriate response and behavior for a man and a woman who want to spend some healthy time together.  Getting to know each other, turning each other on, and well, playing around.  This is who I used to be before well, you know.

But, I don’t know who designed this kitchen it is made for microwave meals only.  Everything I need to cook or bake is stuck in a far corner which requires taking out pots and pans to then replace pots and pans – it is tedious and tiresome.

I have more – so much more.  However, I will save it for another post.

Yet, I cannot because I am – oh, so sick and tired, and cranky, and yep, fucking pissed.

What I need is a really good drunk to unplug my head.  Followed by a good sleep, and a great breakfast/brunch.  A peach Bellini with blueberry pancakes with butter drizzled with the real maple syrup – again, no fake flavor for me.  And, a good side of sausage – I like turkey, less fat.

Followed by an afternoon in the sun reading a good book that I have been wanting to read.  Maybe a swim to cool off and back to the book in the sun to clear out this – EXPLETIVE, EXPLETIVE, EXPLETIVE, EXPLETIVE, well, you get the idea.

Since, I am at the beach/sun how about we stay there.  A bonfire, drinking, laughing, dancing, cooking over the flames, marshmallows, or s’mores, or barbecue.  I could, I really could, fall asleep under the stars at the beach, but I will need help keeping warm.

Anyway, just a thought.

I think there are worse character flaws than having and using a full arsenal to wield of four-letter words.  And, God – I don’t think he minds,  He hasn’t told me otherwise.  I don’t think he is concerned with taking the Lord’s name in vain.  There is, of course, a time and a place.  Showing respect for others is paramount.  However, I think God finds me funny regardless of my vocabulary.

A relationship to and with God is different from one person to the next.  So, how God may find me funny for swearing as I trip, or something similarly amusing, he may ask someone else to be and do it differently.

Oh yeah, twig to marion – not amusing.  I am just so over it.

I’m getting out of the shower after bathing head to toe more than once, and I still feel dirty and gross and stink.  My towels stinks, my sheets stink, my clothes stink, my house stink, everything stinks and smells.

Did you know that my second semester ASL teacher’s name was Bo?  Did you know I took ASL because David knew sign language and I wanted to be able to keep a part of him with me.  I have told this many times.  It is true, but some things change.

Did you know when I was in college every morning driving to work G-12’s were flying by me like I was standing still.  I always thought they must be recruiters going to work the way they attacked their speedometer with such ferocity.

Did you know that I had a hub cap fly off one morning?  I didn’t have a garage then, so my car was parked outside.  Either it became loose do to age, or someone loosened it so that it would fly off.  Did you know it was the driver’s side front hub cap?

This bankruptcy in conjunction with everything else is debilitating.

Unplug my brain – I am fried!

I need to unplug my brain!  Take it off, shake myself off!  You have no idea what kind of pain it is.  It is all over my face – this kind of more than pressure, unnatural state of being.

I need to tune out and forget the world exists for a while.

What is the last thing you want to do when you are sick, cook, clean, take care of yourself, make decisions, make decisions quickly, spend money, get dressed, get out of bed, all of the above?

I just cannot continue down this path of hurry up and make a decision based on the day of the week, the time, etc.  There has to be a better way.  There is a better way or I wouldn’t be in this position to begin with.

It is about time I started giving direction and directions.

However, I will NOT willfully dole out tasks, demands, or list while in this altered state of well-being or un-well-being.

You will have to wait for my normal Norwegian health to return for it is what I get from my father’s side of the family – they are healthy as horses.

As a side note – for I will write this again later – a favorite t-shirt of my father’s that he wore with pride for decades until it was so thin it was see-through was, You Can Always Tell A Norwegian But You Can’t Tell Him Much.