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.