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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