Laughter – Gone

The last time I remember really laughing was at Panera.

A man asked to meet me at Panera.  I was skeptical.  It felt like a set-up  – it was.

I walked into Panera with this man.  I showed up late, dirty hair in a ball cap because I intended to dye it later that evening.  I ate before because I didn’t want to share a meal with this man any longer because I cared nothing for this man.

At Panera, I saw him at a table with other men.  He had closed the door to him so severely, I didn’t go to his table to say, “hi.”  I walked outside without saying anything or even looking at him when I recognized him.

Yet, outside eating with this man I could feel him looking and watching me from the window.  As always when I was around him he turned something on that lit me from inside.

I was hilarious.  I was witty.  I was so funny.  I was improving and throwing out one-liners that would have entertained the entire world.

I knew I was funny.  Not because the man was laughing – I just knew I was funny on a professional level.

What I have learned.  What I understand – I will NEVER be that person again.

My proof is the last few times I’ve met him and been around him.

I’ve turned away.  I’ve not acknowledged him.

He walked by touching my knee at a bar a while ago.  I didn’t speak to him.  I touched his side as I left – that was all.

There was a time I thought I needed to speak to him one last time.  I guess that time is gone.

And with it, my laughter has gone.

 

 

Not Much Has Changed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am Florida.

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

What I Booked, Not What I Got

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is so painful.

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

 

 

 

The End Of My Ability

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

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

Still not writing.

This house is a prison.

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

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

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

Let go of this life – Yes!

Followed: No Change

Dear Darkness and Despair:

I am not writing again.

I would look for a different job, try to get different work but nothing seems to work.  Regardless of my job nothing changes.

More importantly, I am not writing any more.

What an idiot I am.

This time, this life without being able to write…painful beyond words.

 

Drugged

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I cannot pretend any longer.

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

I just can’t…anymore.

 

 

Problem Thinking

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

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

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

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

Because that would take too long?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Worst Person I’ve Ever Met

Watching movies.

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

I used to love watching movies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had better goddamn respect me!

They are words to live by.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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