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.

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…http://www.bailoutpeople.org/ 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… http://www.insiderinfo.com/Sports_MichaelVick.php


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.