Monday, November 30, 2009

Book 3 Chapter 11

Welcome back. I am so blessed with many things in my life that I have experienced. My visions of what I can see, what should be, not the way things are. Seeing where food came from, that it was not just on a shelf, was a valuable lesson. I lived in Alaska, drove and survived the Alaskan Highway two times in a car. I was in Salt Lake City when they got the Olympics. I knew that pride because I had grown up with a very Patriotic Grandmother, a Marine for a father, and some amazing teachers. Never forget the teachers.

Ever notice it is your parents and your teachers that define you very existence in life? For the most part.

Going back to my childhood and young Adult hood, Parenthood, New York Hood I look back. In life you get once to run through things, you don’t get a retake, this is not the movies you see. I have had offers in life that have had my head was spin, while inside I sit and watch as if I were a professor with the hat and whiskers being the cynical beast I am. I am one of those rare things that you should look at and never touch.

I have lived in Maine, the coast area. Been to Bangor where Stephen King is. I have seen big Bushes house in Kennebunkport. I have lived in Old Orchard and ran a kitchen of 14 Russians and assorted others from Cuba, Africa, and England. One moment about Russians.

Great people for the most part. Hard workers, you have never seen such. They are some of the friendliest people on a person to person contact; however I would never piss them off.

I have lived in Boston. It is probably best I don’t piss off the Bostonnites before I begin. I live currently in NYC or the Big Apple. I have never seen so much pain and beauty on the street in my life. The basics are that I never expected to be here. This was a dream. I was brought here as a Dominatrix. Shock, gasp, and fall over.

Ok are you back. I never lost sight of where I was to be. I have never lost sight of my faith. My purpose. NYC is like this dream to me that I know one day I will wake from and end right back on the farm like Dorothy coming back from OZ. I fit in, I don’t belong. I had to come here you see. I had to see, to co inhabit, to become one. The people who came into my life here and left my life here have touched me in ways that most will never understand.

I am a country girl at heart. I see things with pretty castles and beauty in cows that feed my family. I see the earth creates us to live here. It allows us here. I have seen that for so long and continued to believe that we can become better people. It is in us. These places have affected me and also built me to be a better person. I have a direction; the thing is I never really saw it coming forth.

Each day that I am allowed to reach back to my blog and touch one person, hello reader I see you. My goal was to touch one person. That I would affect them so much that they would want to read my work. To see my mind. I can not thank that reader enough. Every reader is my life blood. I pray I never forget this as a writer. It matters not if they contribute to my fund to live. They might eventually. When I can affect them to see, or they agree. That is the highest compliment to any writer. The reader. They make us, they break us. Especially if you are a Freelancer. Your readers are your life blood.

So please don’t take me off your list, but thank you my reader for supporting me. Ok enough embarrassment. You made me cry. That you liked my writing enough to follow me. Thank you, you made a difference in my life. That is beyond any compliment that one can receive. Again Thank You

I wrote a book when I was nine and a dear friend of mine asked me to recreate it. I will. This was where my writing began. This is one of my chunks of my life I remember. I was in the 4th or 5th grade. I should have known then I was a realist. To this day that short story lives in my memory. This is when I knew I could write. I remember that the teacher told the class that had the story been in the right order and with a name on it, it would have received a higher grade. When she started to read it with the day being on Wednesday, I stood up and said it was mine. I went and put it in proper order and was completely embarrassed to get the attention. My story had gotten recognition. There is no feeling as an artist that one can be noticed and granted a gift. It was then I knew I was destined to write as one the greats. That is such a bold statement to make.

Inside me there is this person. She seeks this justice of a system knowing that not everything is as it seems. That it is this truth that is not being told. Not being said. Inside this child screams to the reality knowing that the truth will be squashed and rejected. That is a leap of faith. I refuse to bend, to burn to the society around me you see.

Artist, we are a weird breed. We choose to interoperate the world as we see. Where I have lived, I am jaded and warn. Destroyed inside with the hope of a farm girl in the back ground. There is a better place, a place to lead, a place to be. Writers, we are this unique breed. A true Writer/Artist wishes to change the status around them. To educate. You can not tell me different. We are here with this gift of verse to share with the community that will read and influence them. Writers have influenced me beyond my wildest dreams. They have given me freedom in the storms of hate and anger; their words have danced across my mind more than I care to admit. I even have a friend who constantly tells me I live in lala land. I suppose I do. As a young girl in Colorado, I knew I was going to be someone. No one, I repeat no one has ever taken that from me. That is mine and I will not let it go. I don’t know how many of my classmates who may or may not be reading this are going to feel or what they are going to say, but those who know me, know full well the writing is my life. There is nothing that would kill me faster than if you took away my ability to write or to speak.

This is my cutting tool, this is my belief, and this is what I hold onto when there is nothing else to hold on to because once written, nothing but removal can take what you said. No one else wants to claim these words sometimes and no one can claim them. They are the words we throw out there. Me and many artists. We yell and scream if only one hears us and we change their lives, we inspire, we give life.

My dreams of writing are right there with in my grasp. To begin my adventure like King or the lady who wrote Harry Potter. Anne Rice. My dream is just beginning on this magical carpet ride, if I have learned one thing; hold onto what you believe, but remember with greatness comes responsibility always. I am a different person today, not inside but thought wise. My mind has been expanded to see, to learn, to try to understand. To walk in the shoes of those I can, not to forget when I move forward, but to give back as they gave to me, sending me a life line.
I have recently met someone who has actually lived through so much I am learning a great deal. His acceptance to his load is very amazing. So many of us have stories, tales that we have endured. As you grow up and begin to believe more and more in your dream to the point you pursue it. Becoming a part of it, engulfing it. We become it. Those of us who believe.
We are the dream makers. We are the future. Those of you reading this do not ever forget your dreams. I am living mine and you know what? Time is moving so fast, I can’t hold on. It is just a place. NYC. It is just a spot on the blip of my existence. We define our world and who we are, it our experiences that create us. That allows us to feel.

I am a survivor of PTSD. I remove my problems and move them to larger ones so I don’t have to focus on me. I am not that interesting in my mind. I am just me. My life created a cornucopia of events that defined me. Forcing me to become who and what I am as this concludes our bookcast blogcast day.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Book 3 Chapter 10

It is 6:30 in the morning where I am at and today is April 3rd, 2009. This at least gives the reader a taste of what time frame we are in. You never know. Some day in the near future there may be a child who finds this information archived and wonder what person was writing this and why. What was going on in the day to create such a piece of work? Why would someone have to write as to have to educate people of their rights or stories that were missed by the everyday person? I have learned that unless you live in a place or a time, you can not understand this day.
Just like a new King on the hill being elected. Someone of another color. No matter what his race is or where he stands, he created a change in the current society and those of us alive at this time got to witness that. That is almost as if being there for Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks, The Boston Tea Party, or the signing of the Constitution. How we take these precious moments of history in the world as if they are nothing that matter or that we did not just witness a miracle in the current system.

I hold no bones about how I feel of the current society. I want you know to know this well, this does not mean I can not appreciate what an important and valuable change in history this is.
Today, I am attending a protest on Wall Street. Here is the link… Now I never promote any link I post, I am just letting you know where I am going, who I interact with, and of course what I have read or seen. I hold myself to a standard most do not in this day and age. I believe that I have a voice for some reason and I am placed in certain situations for reasons unknown at the time. I never asked to be a part of some of the stories I learn about and report on.

A lot of journalist would love to be able to attend the stories I do and be able to write what they see and not what they are syndicated to say. Don’t people deserve that with well reported facts? I may have a view and I will tell you when it is my view, I have no issue doing that, but the facts are the facts. I got interested in the reporting when I was asked to do a Michael Vick Story. There was a lot of reporting and researching before I was done. Then the editor reworded it for today’s reader. So it was more a reporter’s story. This man gave me a chance to report an amazing story that landed me in a sports online forum…

I have covered protest for Guantanamo Bay. Sat in Court Cases that have reached the Supreme Court House in Washington D.C... To know I was a part of this historic moment in History drives me to seek to find out what is going on. I have started to see that everything is defiantly not as it appears. It pains me to say this, but I often wonder now what the true motive for the people doing what they were doing. I went to find out the story, not to pick sides. I am a reporter, not a supporter.

Today’s protest, honestly, was larger, but the same people who have not an idea for the most part of what the rest of the world goes through on a daily basis and still survive on less than they do. What gives? It is like the mute leading the blind to a point. It is almost as if you are watching people who truly have nothing better to do than to go protest because the maid is working that day. I am not knocking these people. I am confused.

Some are there because they truly want to help the cause, but they get lost in the others who need to have the attention of the crowds, the news, and the media. I have rarely gone to one of these protests with out people asking me, “Why are you here?” When I respond I am a reporter, they usually assume it is with the times or the post. When they find out that I am not a syndicated reporter, I am treated as if I have 3 heads.

I like court cases because honestly, I can walk in, nicely dressed and I am usually accepted until they see the note pad and I am taking notes. However the Lawyers who see me now in court, they always treat me respectfully I notice. They may not like me there, but they know that I am going to report the truth. I rarely research my stories before I go to the case or protest. Right now, this is the way I am earning my stripes. Every story of any possibility where there may be a way to find out the truth, then as a journalist you should go cover it. Even if it is for the local newspaper or your own and is only about the High School Prom or covering Local Bands. Everyone has to learn hands on how to do this job. It is like detective work because you have to study to find out about what you are covering.

When I wrote on Michael Vick, I did a lot of research on the internet and with friends who understood pit bull fighting. Also about his Football Career. You can find my work on what I discovered on both Helium and Associated Content under my profile along with a lot of my other writings if you are waiting for the next chapter to come out and I am running behind again. I try to understand my cases with emercing myself into the story with out much research so I have no predisposition on the situation. A blank slate. I do not want to form an opinion before I understand the people. That is important to me.

The research I am finding upon these protest are highly disappointing in the fact that we live in America, Land of the Free. This land was built by blood and sweat, and it is being stolen right in front of our eyes. It is not just the lack of passion with in the people that pass by and even some that are with in the protesters. There is bastardization of the Constitution, pushed to its very threads until it is ready to break. Tax dollars well in use with the double to triple police and security budget for the City the demonstration and protest is in. This is NYC remember, time is Money. Wall Street is an expensive piece of property here.

Today, I hang my head in the feeling of defeat because as a journalist I must tell the truth and as a Constitutional Supporter to the fullest and a very proud American, how do you report what others are not willing to because of the fear of being duck taped and syndicated? Tarred and feathered for your beliefs and what you see. How do you explain the pain that you feel seeing the homeland, the first state that many survived so much and still do to this day just for the Freedoms we were born with. There is no way to explain that pain or sorrow.

For me to see the world as I do, through what some would consider the Center of the Universe. I see the Universe crumbling from Wall Street to Justice Lane of where our money is going, How we as a Nation, not everyone, but a lot, are becoming tuned into 1984 and they really do not want to unplug from that machine. The machine is too comfortable.

My comfort level was broken long ago, this is just a thrill ride now as this concludes our bookcast blogcast day. You are now free to move about the cabin.

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Thursday, October 29, 2009

Book 3 Chapter 9

Upon my journey in life I have found that most people suck. They are only in it for themselves, for their own gain. Their own purpose. I have met so many on that level here in NYC and around the USA. As I listen to my music I pull up Eminem’s, ‘Never Enough’. I understand his words. See I am one of those odd people that believe. What brought this rant on? People not keeping their word.

This week I fell behind. This is never a good thing. A lot of things happened in the week to create this situation. I was going to make this a bitching chapter but I can’t. Some people when they come into your life, you often wonder why you allow them there. Time is a thing that teaches you how to hold on. To endure the hurdles placed before us and people come in and out of our lives on a daily basis and we never really see how much they mean to us.

My every dream in the world is coming true. To be a known writer before I die. Do you know how many writers of the past who would have given their right eye teeth for this opportunity? This chance? They would rage against the machine to be in this time space of reality of what is presented for the freelance artist to have contact with in such a way to reach almost every corner of the world, big or small. Some how it can reach them, and if the words can’t the reaction can. This gift, any writer would give their very soul for, such as Dante as he enters into the inferno.

I am so blessed. The people who have come and past me in my life, the places the I have been. Where I sit now. I can go see the Statue of Liberty any day of the week I wish. So many died to see that gift and here she is, for me to go see upon a whim of the day and 5 dollars to pay the toll. What a blessing and gift. So few can not see this. If it were not for the people in my life today, I would not be where I am. You know who you are, you know who you are not.

I know this is a short chapter, but I fell behind. I am covering a protest that is taking a bit of my time and I have not had much time to write on the computer. So please bear with, the A train passed by my house the other day and I got a 2 day pass to Manhattan. They let me out of my room to see the carnage on the streets right now in Manhattan…So if you don’t hear from me in a few days. I do promise, the A train will deliver me home safe again soon after we are done outracing the worm that we picked up from the Hudson.

As this concludes our short, uncyndicated blogcast, bookcast day.

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Sunday, October 18, 2009

Book 3 Chapter 8

I know when I emerge out I am very bold. I see. I know. I feel. I think. When I do come out against something or for it I am usually extremely passionate. I was asked a few years ago to start covering court room stories for certain people of the Law world. I agreed to go simply because it was a job that I felt I could get into. What I saw when I went to my first Court room house case as an adult, the case was not ok in my eyes. I watched cases through out the day and took notes as all the cases were heard before 3 judges on Pearl Street of that Courthouse. The things I heard turned my stomach. Not so much the issues of the cases presented, but the lack of professionalism and knowledge on the behalf of some of the Lawyers prosecuting the case. They, the Prosecuting Lawyers were going up against the likes of Washington D.C. Lawyers; Prosecuting Lawyers who had no business in the Court Room let alone as a sophomore in Law School. Let me explain why before you comment, continue reading please.

How can you possibly go to court with out an idea of how you are going to give a proper rebuttal ( ) In a Constitutional case if you don’t know the ins and outs of Constitutional law and you don’t bother do your research incase one of the Amendments is not a good defense for your client.

This case from Pearl Street, well, it was a romper room of romper rooms with an ill prepared Lawyer representing 7 clients against Lawyers that were protecting the likes of John Ashcroft. ( ) and Lawyers for the jail in Brooklyn are only 2 of the people that were being sued by Detainees in GitMo this day. Though the case may have been valid enough, the Prosecuting Attorney ( ) for the Detainees, seemed if she was still a paralegal who needed a Law book thrown at her to give her a clue of the reality of the importance of the case. There were individual lawyers of course for the likes of Ashcroft and the Prison. There was one Lawyer representing the Detainees. I am still sitting on the story as you can see because I am not sure the research is done enough for the people as of yet, however to continue upon the Romper room saga…

The girl had council sitting at the table with her and behind her, but she is the one who was defending the case before the three Judges. She kept trying to stand upon the 4th Amendment rights of Illegal Search and Seizure.

Amendment IV (1791)
The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probably cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

Now this is all fine and dandy for such actions, if one is an American citizen. These men, that were arrested and now are in GitMo, were walking around the World Trade Center openly and with out any thought to the situation of 9-11, with in days after the towers fell. Now I am not saying that they should not have been there but 4 out of the 7 men had legal illegal paperwork for them to work here; I Mean their papers were legal, but they were not. This should have and could have become an INS issue for 4 out of the 7 men, not an issue of 4th Amendment rights. The fact that these men were here illegally working with legal papers makes you wonder why they were here illegally in the first place and where did they get the legal papers? Also what were the other 3 men, who were here on legal papers, doing with these 4 men that were not here legally? It also begs the question if they were entitled to the American dollars spent on their council if they were not from this country? Shouldn’t their country have to pay for this? Why are we left paying the bill for 4 illegals that were here on legal illegal paperwork, taking away American jobs from the American people? Oh and it was a high alert time so honestly, no one can blame the local law enforcement here to do a bit of profiling, they were of similar characteristics of what we know of the terrorist in our limited educational allowance for the daily reports from people like Faux News and CNN.

When I was asked to attend this hearing, my mind was not prepared for what I heard or saw. There are too many here that took the Citizenship test, too many here that need jobs, there are too many here that have been lied to for far too long. I recognize that my ‘Unpatriotic attitude’ will get me into trouble one day.

I, at this point, I do not care. Haul me off to the Jail. I want to scream from the empire states building, “America, Question. What the Fuck? Why?” How can the American public possibly say that if they don’t know the truth? So I have to be fair and report the truths that have been given to me to see. I will say if there is an American citizen who reads my work and follows the links to see what has been presented, does not say to their Government that they employ, “Listen Asshole, we need to talk.” Then it is not the fault of mine but theirs. It is only my responsibility to report the truth I find, not decide it.

I see what the Government is doing to us. How they teach us. I am listening to Immortal Techniques ‘Point of no return.’ ( ) I can not back out from what I say because what I see is destroying this country at the very being of our core. At this point it would be futile. What I speak, for Christ sake, it is the way I feel. Am I not entitled to that? I want an answer God Damn It. Why have I plowed the trenches only to have no return? Why should the keeper reap the benefits of my being, my work? Let me tell you, Rap has created a lot of anger in me. It has driven me in a good way. The anger I feel when I am listening to rappers like Immortal Technique and Eminem, they empower me. They empower my place in the world. Even with all I have been trough I feel that they have been through 10 times worse. I question…Who I am, what I am? Where do I fit in this world? Will I make my mark?

I am lucky, my skin tone is white, I just look appropriate. I fit in when I have to. With most not knowing I will post the story that will make people question their placement of where they are. With my Tats and black ghetto booty I fit in to a point, until I have to interact. Then my mouth gets the best of me.

I have earned my tats, never forget that. My tats define me in a way. I have the trinity on my arm, a memory on my ankle of where I never want to be again, and a black rose that drips blood on my back. As you can see in this documentary. I will only show my trinity Tat. Why? I want people to judge me by what I represent and write not what I look like.

In the world of the Court room you see yourself so much. I am supposed to keep an objective mind at this point. How do you do that? When you hear the travesties that are presented, the pain that is happening, and the nonsense of the destruction of people that so few know?
It is a difficult issue for me to keep my objective as that of a reporter. I have feelings, I know things. I see things. It pains me the people on the street who are forgotten. I can never forget them. How inhumane can you be to forget them? It is humanity that allows others to live. It is humanity that allows us to live. What if the powers that be did just leave us there? With our educational system we are entitled to Bad council, bad representation unless we can afford the price tag. We would flounder at this. We would be destroyed. We loose as a species. We will become lost in this freedom if we do not learn to stand up for it.

I listen to certain music because of how it affects me. My roomie knows if Rammstein ( ) is on, I am not in the mood to talk. I am too angry at that point to approach. I am a radical at that time and nothing logical is going to come through. I can’t explain it. I just know. Sometimes you just know.

Please be patient here, even though the next few paragraphs seem out of whack with the above topics on the court I tie them together.

You get to a point in your life where you know you have to make a stand. You have to make this stand to make sure you are true to the people around you. Honestly you can not say you will provide food and shelter if you can not establish it.

Please let me give an example. With my books I have a few proofreaders; they get the royalties of the books I write. In no way shape or form are they asking for money, it is a gift. I give all my proofers 1% of the profits off the life of the books I put out. Does not seem like a lot at first but let’s say this book makes 1 million. 1% of that million is still ten grand. That is a bit of gas or food. They know this, the proofers, as do I. For one thousand a month I can pay all my house bills. For Christ sake, I live in NY for that point. If I can make it on less than a grand a month, so can anyone else anywhere else in the world. I am sure they can figure out where to put that extra money even if it is only $200 extra a month. That is gas or some food or maybe a trip to a restaurant.

When you look at that statement alone…

‘I am sure they can figure out where to put that extra money even if it is only $200 extra a month. That is gas or some food or maybe a trip to a restaurant.’

That is a sad statement to make, very sad. Why should America have to suffer from the politicians who have been leading her? What is the point? If the politicians destroy the people who elected them then there will be no one left in America to do the jobs they don’t want to do. You know, blue collar work, the blood of America, the heartbeat that keeps this country running? I guess that if all the Wally worlds were to shut down we would have to let go of the workers from another countries and put jobs back in America.

Why, as Americans have we not questioned more? Why did we elect someone who we wanted who promised so many changes, people believed in him? We, as a nation, elected a Freshman Senator into the White House with out a second thought, a second glance. Did any one bother to check his voting records or bother to see that the stimulus plan was presented long before he was in Office? He was part of the original write ups for it and wanted to get it past when lil bush was in office.

He promised so much, offered change. Only to create a change that could very well destroy this country. Yet we sit back and clap at the shiny things that are presented to us, only hoping there will be food on the table tomorrow. Or that we can send our kids to school tomorrow with out concern that they will not be educated well because they can not pay the teachers anymore or that the books are so old that it dates back to the publication time of George Washington being in office. I have never cared for Mr. Obama; I can not and will not ever call him President. I will not. There is something dirty there. At least you know where I stand with the current administration, don’t worry, I care not for the President since Carter was in office.
I am sure some will find this disrespectful but to be very honest. I have no respect for a man who stated very clearly he would never run for office of President when being caught off guard with a Reporter who questioned him after a Senate hearing on lil bush I believe. I don’t care for a man who has no issue of Plagiarism, I work to hard to find my words to write and come together. I also believe his ability to vote to impeach lil bush when he could, was not used for a yeah or a nay, in other words he did not vote. Same with Miss. Clinton. We are all so happy Clinton is there yet here is the thing, am I the only one who remembers the nightmare that happened during something called the white water scandal I believe. A lot of people conveniently died after all that work came out. Or how about the fact that the man who was elected into Office will not share his birth certificate with the American People. We hired him, he did not hire us. We are his employer, not vice versa. Why is he above questioning? Is it because he is a Malato? He is half black, half white. He is not a full blooded African American, as a matter of a fact; I am not even sure if he is an African American. I believe the only ones who should use that term, are the Americans who came from Africa over here.

So many things in life can change in an instant. We so often forget this. We forget our place in this world that a larger part of the world controls us. That what we put in this life comes out in our being. We forget we have a mind and allow all to control us with their beliefs. We have forgotten to listen to those little things in our lives that are an edge in our system. We allow this corruption to exist because we exist stagnant on certain parts of our lives. We make the paths we are on to choose our paths and go where they lead us.

How does all this connect you may be asking? Our education system is a representation of our future. If a Lawyer does not know the Constitution to defend 7 men before 3 judges correctly, then what does that say about us as a nation as a whole being? If it is ok for the man who holds the highest office in the Nation is above questioning, what is the Constitution for? If we know this is happening, why haven’t we stopped it?

Remember what I say, question everything as this concludes our bookcast blogcast day. You are not free to move about the cabin space provided.

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Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Book 3 Chapter 7

Welcome back. Did you miss me?

I am listening to the news from Russia again. You learn a great deal when you listen to other people. In a court room all you do is listen and hope you got that statement correct or the reaction of the Judge or the people around you. I am not sure what Lawyers feel when they are up there. I have had my fair share of court room drama you could say. I have dealt with the family law court, divorce court, Federal Courts, State Courts; I am working on making it to the Supreme Court in D.C... That would be an achievement. I have learned though, laws are started on the base of all courts. I am not an expert in the Courts or their placement as of yet. Where they sit and why one Court is higher than the other.

To me the court system is a lot like our Government. Each level is connected but one hand rarely knows what the other is doing. I usually slip in quietly to these cases. Sitting where I can hear well but not always seen because I do try to blend in. As for my writing style on these cases. I am not sure so many would approve who have been in the business for very long. I can’t blame them. I have chosen to come into a court of law and report the truth but from a layman’s point. From one who is learning the law as the cases move forward.

I often have to work twice as hard on cases, for the simple fact, I do not know all the terms. I did not complete College. I did graduate High School, but College was a no go for me. Hint here, teenagers who know everything and are ready to graduate, go get a further education even if it is fixing cars.

I have let go of a lot of things in my life. I had them but I did not want them at that time if that makes sense. I look back and reflect a lot on where I turned wrong, how I could have done things differently.

I think the Court Room does make you look, reflect; see where you could be, or what you could become. Besides Government, Law is one of the only other things that really affect a whole Country. This includes anything that can be broken down into those particular sectors we could say. I am anxiously awaiting my proofer’s responses and corrections on the first few chapters of this book, so as I wait, the need to write does not diminish. Especially when I am watching things that can and will affect thousands. It is a very weird feeling. I am witnessing history in a way, not by the sideline in the TV tube that is watched by many out there. I am sitting in on cases that can possibly change laws for others nation wide in the future.

There is something about that. There is a feeling of pride, not vanity. It is a feeling of awe. It is a feeling of pain and disappointment. In life you have to take a stand. If you do not, the words you say mean nothing to the people you are trying to reach. I do believe my PTSD is a help factor in this area. Remember every negative has a positive. My mind is that of sorted memories, blind faith, and direction of where I need to be, not where people think I should be.

The court rooms show you your own vicious circle of life. Where you could do better. How you could improve yourself. How do you make change? Do you have a purpose? Why are you here? What is it you are to do? I watch the court room drama. There is no other description there. It is like watching psychedelics on trial. Each Lawyer has a point, the judge listens. The lawyer has the choice to listen to the judge or not. They psychosomatic actions continue either way.
I suppose I have to go back to my first court case on Pearl. The GitMo case as I refer it to. Out of all the research I have done, I am not sure what my limits are of that of reporting. Do I step out and scream the truth from my pages or do I keep a silent mind and only show the facts of the case. Not that when I scream the facts would not be in the description of the case where I put my thoughts in there, my thoughts will just come in louder words.

If you notice, I tend to focus on other things besides the PTSD. I try to function with in the ‘normal’ parameters of man. I tell you right now I am far from it, seriously. I wonder how others see me in this world, my words, my research. Some call that the truth. I have the issue of knowing what I should say and what I do say. These court cases remind me so much of being there, being the person on trial.

Of course everyday I live I am on trial. Did I say the right thing? Did I manage ok? What did I do to improve the situation? Am I ok? Why do I feel the need to take care of others even when I am the brink of despair? I often look at my weak, fallen vessel that I am no one, nothing. Crying out in utter defeat I watch. I cry. I submit; feel. I see.

For so long I have questioned where I am to be and what to do. If I am on the right path? Did I mislead someone, somewhere? I fight what humanity gives me as an answer. I fight what I am told I am to believe. I rage against this machine if for no reason as to the fact that I scream about the truth that I am presented with. My true vision is that of clarity, peace, blindness of a sort. I have found out that I can not report with out my heart being real. This becomes a conflict of interest in ways.

When I have the privilege to talk to my children they often bring light to the conversation of their wisdom. Two precious times of the week I get to hear how their day is going, their week. What is going on in their world? It is a very odd existence. Looking out to what is presented to me. I am a weird one. No one can argue. I am still functioning, functioning being the key word. I have survived abuse you could not imagine. I have become the poster child of screw ups. I mean real screw ups. I look at myself and wonder why in Gods green earth I would be chosen to be a mother of one, let alone two children. Who screwed up that day with the embryos that become children? I want to see this order.

My son reconfirmed my parenting education today. He uttered the words, “We must question everything.” Such a bold statement from a 16 year old. In his simple words he reaffirmed what I have taught my children from birth. The basics of life.

“Yes." Was my answer. I asked him where he learned this and he informed me it came from my gene pool, that he learned that from me. There is not a word that can describe what this is or how it may affect you. I raised my children to question everything; this does not just mean those around you, but those who help you; your teachers, your leaders, your friends, your family, and so on and so forth. Again please send your hate mail to Such a simple statement that is said that can mean mounds. It is a reward for teaching well. It is a gift to see that you were listened to.

It is also a reminder which has to do with the courts? How do you possibly put Courts with children? Easy. Both need a justice system based off something. Based off a reason. As I said there are no words to express the words of my son. His bold statement of ‘Question everything.’
See people come in and out of your life and you become attached, you only hope what you have given will reach them and their boundaries. From a mothers point of view. I am terrible. I am a horrid mother. I have the mother instincts, but not the drive sometimes. Not the tenacity. I was from the world of children should be seen not heard because I already have enough noise in my head. Yet when I had my own I learned very quickly communication is key and our children are like these lil sponges absorbing everything we say or do in this world.

My son repeating the precious words of ‘Question everything” allowed me to realize I am on the right path, whether I am in the Court Room or in person on the street. It is that silly validation to continue on in this world and your place in it.

As this concludes our blogcast/bookcast day…Always question….PTSD…question…thyroid…question…twin towers…question…swine flu…question???

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Sunday, September 27, 2009

Book 3 Chapter 6b

Book 3 Chapter 6b
Welcome back to the A train. Please note below before you read further.*
A lot can happen in a week in NYC. I know, I keep talking about NYC. Here is the thing, I live here. Where else should I talk about with some knowledge and education of what is going on in my part of the world? Where should I get my education from, the news? Even then that education is questionable. I do courtroom reporting. I am still learning the ropes of law but find it a fascinating world. Where else can one man or women, or in some cases a Jury decide your fate based on the facts found and presented by professional liars, I mean Lawyers of course.
If you are up on a murder charge you better hope you have a good Lawyer. One who can find the facts; or in some cases, can lie very well if you are guilty. Those of you who are laughing and agreeing know what I am saying because you have been there. Ok, maybe not for a murder charge, but for something else.

Just so you know, the courtroom is one of the few places where sometimes the little guy can still win with the right Judge, jury, or Lawyer.

I had an interest in law when I was in grade school. I think it was around the 5th grade. We went to a Court House for a class project. ( ) When you are so small, the size of a building can be very powerful in molding the impressionable mind. When I saw the building of the Court, entered those hallowed halls, felt the importance of the words that were hushed as we passed by lawyers. It is an eye opening moment.

It would almost be like visiting the White House for some I suppose. My class was invited to hear a case and would be able to meet a Judge. I remember sitting in the blue chairs listening to the Lawyers fight for a young mans freedom. I don’t remember what the case was; I do however remember the power that Judge had after he heard the facts presented to him. I remember him speaking to the young man who was lead away in cuffs as his head hung low. Words sometimes are not remembered, just actions.

After the Judge left for his chambers and then came back. We were introduced to the Courtroom and all of her separate functions. This Judge stayed in His robes, I am sure that was to keep us in line, but He touched something in me that day. He mentioned that even though this court was not as large as some, not as small as some, each court was bound by the Constitution. That silly little paper that protects our freedoms and what our Country was built on. He still believed in the Constitution and what it stood for, as I believe in the Constitution to this day. That powerful little piece of paper that grants me a freedom that most don’t have anywhere else in this world. I have the privilege not to do as I want all the time but to have the freedom to speak, fight, outrage, inform, lift, and destroy if needed. This is a powerful responsibility and gift for any one person. Remember with great wisdom comes great responsibility.

When he spoke of the Constitution, this Judge, there was something in His demeanor that showed he still believed and upheld the Constitution as first priority in his life as a Judge. I have never forgotten how that felt to be in the Court room that day and the things that occurred. As I have grown older and becoming more active as a Patriot, I am constantly learning about the Constitution, our rights, our duties. Yes, we have duties as American Citizens. We have duties as a species as a whole; human or otherwise.

I now go to the bigger Courts you could say. I am not saying Denver is small. Please do not confuse that statement, I mean bigger and older Courts with amazing Judges to watch. ( ) If you can understand this statement, watching a good Law match is like watching Poetry in Motion. It is so amazing how the Lawyers, with the right Judges presiding can weave the Constitution right in front of your eyes. Like this magic carpet that is taking you on a ride. Making it a shining example of what The Lady Liberty stands for and the Constitution of the United States. Please note, I am a bit sappy when I talk of Patriotism and the Constitution.

This is one of the beautiful Court Houses I am privileged to attend once in a while. Also, the Brooklyn court room, which is my current location of Court Reporting. ( ) I have had the blessing of seeing court in action with some of the more prominent lawyer’s of today’s day and age. I have seen the workings of the ACLU and the CCR inside the court room. I have walked and seen, on very streets here in New York City whether you live here or not, the news that impacts you where you live.

As I have attended these Court Houses, I have seen cases that will affect many lives in future years. As a journalist I report what I hear, I write what I see, and I tell the people of the United States of America what is going on in their Court Houses here in NYC, that may or may not affect them where they live. I take this responsibility as seriously as one should. Unfortunately sometimes, this has left me at a standstill on some of my stories for the plain and simple fact there are no words to describe what I see in the Romper Room of Justice, in these, the days of our Big Brother Court House Watch.

It has pained me on how to report the truth when I can not believe the truth that I am seeing before my very eyes. I have attended a lot of things such as protest covering the GitMo case. I was there; I walked with the protesters. For some this may not be a big deal, but to me, it was an impressive moment. The first time I stood in front of the Pillars of the Pearl Court House, there was a beautiful coverage of a discussion of what was going on in Guantanamo Bay aka GitMo. Very Honourable, very quiet, very simple. Here is a link to the story if you would like to read it. I know more shameless promotion, but in this case I was there. This is a first hand experience. So here you go. ( )

I apparently grew up believing that justice is blind. I still believe this because even in the Romper Room of the Court Cases presented, the Judges kept Their Court Room in order, just like any good leader should. The Judges are very affluent and skilled in their knowledge, and I learned more from the Judges; who are beyond what any TV Court Room Judge could be compared to. They are in living color and their rulings were and are very real.

I was allowed to go to my first court case in the Courthouse on Pearl Street, I was asked to cover the GitMo case. I know the case is on a very touchy subject and I have still not found all the facts on the case, however as I watched the lawyers come in and stand around to talk in their hushed voices. I saw the arrogance of Law used for the first time in my life and my heart was crushed at the thought how to spin this story and show the wrongs I had seen as laymen, a newbie to the Courtroom of sorts.

A point and time comes in every artist’s life when they decide where they stand. Do they follow the current status quo? Do they choose to stand out and stand up, delivering the truth as they have seen it with their very own eyes, no matter what the cost? Journalist define their Journalism and investigation credentials from the beginning of their writing career, I feel. You know there is that moment you decide what it is you want to do with some of your life. How you want to give back to the community around you in the only way you know how. I have always known that if words could be used as weapons some of mine would be deadly and cut to the bone; even give a final blow. I search to hone my skills to destroy those that were and are destroying the people around me. This led me to Gonzo Journalism, Abby Hoffman, and a few others out there.

As I stumbled upon Gonzo journalism quite by accident, my roomie introduced me to ‘Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas’ . It opened my eyes to a new way of journalism, with that knowledge I will create my own, self proclaimed Journalism of the court room from here on out to be known as **Gonzo Court Room Journalism for the Free Press. Wikipedia fans unite, you can write about me soon enough.
I am not so sure how that will go over in the Court Room. However I do tend to need to focus on something so depression does not get me down. Does not allow me to sink into the wallows of self pity. That can happen with PTSD. After watching my first Court room drama for the first time in my life in NYC, my thoughts of ‘ Justice is Blind.’ quickly turned to ‘Justice is not only blind but the system is a deaf mute as well.’

I wanted to know how such things can go down in our back yard. Decisions that change the very existence of the fabric of our country, that can make or break it, people rarely know about these cases until they hit film. I am not sure why. I don’t know why reporters don’t respond on some of these cases that are so important to many in our society. The society in NYC, surrounds you, just as the society that surrounds you there, surrounds us. We truly do need each other from every corner of the earth, not just one central location. The central location is just a Ground Zero of sorts. Again please send your comments to me at idon’ if you have an issue with my tongue in cheek humor you were warned of my nature when you began to read my work. See note *** below for further instruction.

A moth does not flutter its wings in Africa with out an affect even down the river of the Amazon or the Nile. You do not know what impact your touch may have on this earth, on a person. You don’t know what words you say today will affect someone tomorrow. I watch this in these Court Cases as the Law is talked about, in acronyms ( ) that have to be looked up like DOJ or Department of Justice. Or the DOD, Department of Defense. I have taken no classes to learn how to do this. I was asked to go, so I went.

I never promised those who I went for that I would coddle them or not call them out on what I was questioning not only as a reporter, but also an American Citizen. The miscarriage of Justice that I saw, except for the Judges, cut me to the bone of where my Faith lays in my countries lies… I never knew that feeling before. I feel honoured I am able to attend these court room hearings. To hear first hand, before they are blacked out or erased, hidden from the public I am not sure where my limit is on this Court Reporting thing. I am sure we will find out if they stop letting me in.

I still believe in Justice and that it is blind. Now if there were just some shiny things for the Lawyers to be distracted with.

This concludes our Blog/Bookcast day…We will return tomorrow with our day in the life of the Romper Courts…Or something like that.

***Please note 6a was written after 6b, 6a was to catch my readers up at what is going on with my world and why I have not posted as much as I would like.
*All request to copy the work of the artist or anything in its enteritiy can be submitted to the email provided on the site or in the comments. If you would like to use the artist work, please reference it back to where you found the link and I will kindly add your site per your request.
**Gonzo Court Room Journalism…We are a bit different breed than most, kind of an honest Politician and we have a Journalist Prayer/oath of sorts. It goes something like this.

Dear Journalist Gods,
I solemnly swear as a reporter for the Free Press of the People, For the People, and By the People, here on out, promise to give well researched, well organized articles for all to read with resources attached, as to allow the reader to make their own choices of their own free will with facts presented before them. However, unlike the Turks that are currently reporting, it will be full of life, truth, passion and words of cynicism for the reader to understand the Journalist point of view and have the truth before them. To recognize all are allowed Freedom of Speech for all said parties involved, both by reading or writing content on such reports. To stand by the Journalist Creed and to never sell our being for front page news, lest we die; to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, so help me the Journalist Gods. *** Wikipedeia Copy Approved, just add the link to find the story.***

***All words are the writers exclusive 1st Amendment Rights. Any complains look up Jefferson or Franklin, they might be able to help you out. This website does not confirm nor deny the actions or activities of said writer, and hold no responsibility to those who listen and continue to tune in…You are now free to move about the cabin space provided.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Book 3 Chapter 6

I was asked recently if I had been writing in my journal. The answer is of course no. I have not felt that I have wanted to. I am worried of what I may find inside. The journal topic is supposed to be about a conversation I had today with my friend. About trying and not getting anywhere even when we try, if no production is made is that ok or not, even when we have tried? When it comes to things such as a reality situations example; money. Trying and not succeeding does not amount to a hill of beans.

I have placed myself in a corner and dragged people down with me into this pool of self loathing and hating. Not meaning to but still doing it because I can not seem to change my actions.
My life has created a situation where I can not but change my actions. A few weeks ago, about the time of my last blog post, I began to face more medical problems than I expected. It is not a convenient thing to carry a lap top around from medical appointment to medical appointment all over NYC. Since I have been writing on the computer instead of in a note book by hand this time, my chapters fell behind and I am trying to keep my journal in some sort of order, unlike the order in my life at this current time.

My head has been spinning with everything going on and survival. I know I talk a lot about survival but those who live here know it is a Jungle and survival of the fittest no matter what your handicap; being an idiot savant or actually having medical issue be it physical or mental, in NYC there is no excuse for not surviving. If you think you have an excuse in NYC not to survive you need to move. Really.

I am thinking this chapter will be more focused on things going on around me and to me rather than items that affect the world at this time.

Originally when I started this book, “My Life on the A Train” it was over a bowl of poorly made French onion soup, a glass of Merlot, and a crappy day at the Drs Office on a Crisp October day in 2008. Oh and I had a new journal in my hand with a fresh pen. A bomb shell had been dropped on me about my issues of PTSD and things of that nature. That I needed help and I could get that help from the Government. Mind you, if you are reading my blogs from the beginning, the Government and I do not get a long all the time. I am usually writing about them, not working with them. Case in point, I covered a little case called Guantanamo Bay…You may have heard of that nice Beach Vacation place and unlike most journalist, I was not censored. The Government and I are BFF.

I knew over that bowl of soup that if I did not start to journal again I would loose myself in my own insanity. I am not sure what was said to me that day that made me start that journal. It is hand written and well honestly, not with me right now in my current location. I know that it started over, a bowl of French onion soup and a diagnosis of PTSD to a extreme. Oh yes, and I had just read “Go ask Alice.” Which by the way, unless your therapist suggest it, I would not recommend reading it lightly, if read at all. It is a very hard hitting book you could say and it put me in a place of thinking about this girl I had read about and where she was and what happened to her after she stopped using a journal.

I felt a great deal of hopelessness after reading that book. I had read it at a very low part of my life and writing has been such a large part of my life. It is my use of therapy that was suggested by therapist. I truly believe if Alice would have continued to write, things would have been found out or well she would be alive. I wanted people out there, if they had read this book/blog, to know that there is hope out there, that you are not alone. That you did not have to stop living even with trials that face you on a daily basis.

I am not sure where that hope is but if you are still moving it is there. If you are still opening your eyes, there is still hope. Somewhere inside there is something telling you to move forward. Do not give up, do not give in. So, you are being attacked, physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically, environmentally, and the list goes on. Think about it, every day you move, you have hope, hope leads to life. What you choose to do with that life is up to you. No one gave you a life’s little instruction book when you were born, you don’t get one now.

Humor, people, humor. Laughter is the best medicine honestly.

I have not written because I have been sitting in this big self wallowing pity party of sorts. Life has in a way become overwhelming at an alarming rate. I can not stop the spinning world around me right now, it has sucked me into the eye of the storm and to leave would be a self suicide. So you have to move forward and come back to reality. Snapback and realize what you are doing and who you are hurting, including yourself, when you become one in that drowning pool of self wallowing.

When I started this journal, it was self therapy. Now I have a Psychiatrist ( ), a psycho therapist ( ), and a journal to spill my guts out to. If you think about this whole process, I have no idea why I started it. I just knew I had to, to keep my sanity until I got a licensed therapist to handle my issues. I need a person with a license in this case because there is a great deal being thrown at me all at once, besides that, only someone with a license should be allowed to handle me anyway. My bedroom door has a sticker that came from Belleview that lets visitors know I bite. FYI
I am holding on to Faith with so much hope that I can continue on every day. I will be honest, sometimes, that is even a hard thing to hope for. See my body has become wracked with pain, since last I wrote. I think it is important for you to know where I am not only mentally but physically at this time. Not for sympathy, but so you are aware of my life at this moment in time.
On the days my hands are not giving me issues my depression kicks in so hard I can not focus on writing words to express what I am going through. As much as I write for education and what not as you have read in my beginning chapters, education of myself and sharing myself was part of the deal when I started writing these journals, I did not know how painful some of the things would be as I wrote it, perhaps had I, I would have not started this journal online in the first place.

I know my thoughts are random at times and very confusing to say the least. I write as my train of thought thinks. If you understand that statement, we are on the same A train ride. Welcome aboard; please stand clear of the closing doors. Bing, bong…Ok NYers, are laughing there, I know you are there. Represent.

I often wonder if others think the way I do. See the things I see. Question the things I question. I often feel so different than the rest of the scope of the world. That my blind Faith leads me to cross traffic in NYC with out a thought sometimes. Are there other Pollyanna’s out there that say, “I know right now everything sucks, but hey, it’s ok., it will all be ok somehow.” Do they see as I do what is happening to us right before our eyes.

I know I do. I know I can present it in a form that can be read. Shared. Sometimes it is wonderful to know that there are people out there that think alike. We know we are not alone. We are not crazy even when the world says we are. Please be patient with my scattered thoughts in the next few stops of the A train, it is a bumpy ride. There are pauses between stops in the tunnels or on the bridge depending upon where you are at that point and time on the train. Hold on, it is only a passing moment. I have had to put this into perspective of the reality of my life at this moment and time.

Also I must explain, I jump around a lot because my mind is a lot like this department store and I often look around in there when I am writing or speaking and some other section comes out. I can be in Lady’s clothes and end up in Electronics with no explanation as to why. I will eventually make it back to the dresses I was looking at but for right now there are shiny things in the Electronics department I must go to and play with.

As this concludes our book/blog cast day. Thanks for joining me on the ride.

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