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.

http://angelicfaith.blogspot.com/
http://faythespoetry.blogspot.com/

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 (http://www.mentalhealthchannel.net/psychiatrist.shtml ), a psycho therapist (http://www.mentalhealthchannel.net/psychotherapist.shtml ), 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.

Book 3, Chapter 5....

***Again, sorry for not being able to post more. I must make money with odd jobs right now and rent is way past due as is electric, cable, phone...Not that I am complaining, just noting...***

I love living in NYC; this place is a dream come to reality on some plane I never bought a ticket for, rather New York sent for me while I was working in a strip bar in Boston. As I was growing up I dreamed of coming to NYC with out realizing, the people in NYC, unless of course you have money, do not live here but simply exist. It cost too much to “live” here; you must work 24/7/365-6 or at least 20/7/365-6.

I have read somewhere that the average NYer lives 7 years in 1 year of the average life span of most Americans. I mean New York City. I am not saying the outskirts of NYC and the surrounding areas are not fast paced as well, just not as fast as a NYC minute. Until you live here you really don’t understand that statement. Oh and just so you know, NYC has 5 boroughs, Manhattan, Queens, Staten Island, Brooklyn, and the Bronx. Please make a note of that. Not every NYC person lives in Manhattan. Have you seen the rents there, please I don’t have a sugar daddy. However if you are interested in applying, just let me know.

Oh yes, where were we, the NYC minute.

Lives are built in a minute by some choices and are destroyed in seconds in decisions you make here in this City. Don’t believe me, look at Wall Street and the crashes. I am a bit bias here. (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/bias) Remember I have wanted to be in New York City most of my life; well it is one of my most vivid memories and dreams.

I often question why I think I can make a difference. I am not any different than anyone else, I just have a very vivid imagination and I have a way with words, or at least I hope I do if you are still reading this. My life has been blessed with the people I have met, the places I have lived, and the surroundings that embraced me. I don’t know too many people who have touched a Glacier, driven through the Yukon and BC twice, and moved to NYC with out a dime in their pocket. Wait there are a few that I followed in their footsteps on that last statement.

I am also aware there are not many people out there who had a mother like mine with her addictions and needs. The memories of my childhood still haunt me to this day. I am not sure there is ever a way to erase these memories, no matter how hard you try. You learn to live with them. Accept them and move on. I learned long ago, self pity and self wallowing does nothing for the spirit but break it. That is Unfixable.

Also for some reason, when someone told me ‘no’ I would do it anyway just to prove them wrong. It is the stubbornness in me. Perhaps the American Indian or the Black Irish, I am not sure which. Perhaps because I am naturally inquisitive and I am the child that wants to know why? Why do things work? How can I make things better? What is wrong with me? How do I fix me? Why do I care more about the welfare of others before myself? In today’s society that is not a trait we are really taught anymore. To think of others before ourselves.

Some of my experiences in life have been that of volunteering. What a gift and a blessing that is. Helping others is a unique feeling. Those who in a worse situation always make you stop and ponder your life of what you have and where you could be. My step-mom used to take me with her to these activities of volunteerism and 12 step meetings.

Once in a while the father figure in my life, to be known as ‘L’, from now on, would join us. As you can see, my father figure and I do not get along. I do not subscribe to his issues of racism and judgment. It is a personal choice. There were times that we, as a family, would volunteer together at dinners and lunches of Nursing Homes and with Veteran’s and everyone is attending AA, Ala-teen or Ala-non. You can learn a lot if you pay attention in these situations. I have always known that even if I can not walk that day, at least I have feet to walk eventually. You know that old saying.

I truly believe that Faith keeps you at bay out of the wolves’ mouths. Sometimes she pushes really hard, but when you kneel and say, “Ok, please help.” There is a peace that comes and carries you forth. Some say it is Jesus, I say it is Faith. Both can be considered one in the same. I also believe our roads are to make us stronger. I know, that old saying, ‘That which does not kill us makes us stronger’. This is very true, even if unfair. Who are we to say what is fair and what is not fair? What if the road you are on leads you to a road in the footsteps of the person you admire?

Look around, none of the people who got anywhere really had an easy life. All of them went through things. Perhaps they don’t talk about it. Perhaps nothing actually happened to some of them. I do have a question though. Who is to say whose struggle is harder? We are given what we can handle for our character, for our being. Someone up there did not just say, “Ok, we are going to plant this being here and just let it go all wily nilly with out care of where it is going.” There is far to much paperwork involved in creating a being let alone allowing that being to reek havoc on a society.
Also if you think that a higher power did not create you. Please, please, look at how a child is conceived and created. Ok an egg gets penetrated by a fish like creature, a tadpole. Think about that. It forms into cells that double daily, not even looking human, or taking the human form for at least a month. I am not sure how long, I just know this truth. It is cells from the day of conception. Not something with 10 fingers and 10 toes. So you pro choice people, make the choice to be responsible, because you know what, your family cared enough to let you live so you could have a choice to kill a child, ever wonder if they made a mistake with your cells? I am pro-choice by the way pro choice we all are entitled to what we want to do, as well as I am entitled to state clearly I don’t believe in ending a life that has no voice to defend itself. Again direct your hate mail to idon’tcare@gmail.com.

The human form, in all reality, is one of the most remarkable forms of science available. Think about it most people can barely run a computer, what would they do if they had to remember to breathe every time?

The human form can heal, even from broken necks, backs, and bones. The human body can perform even under extreme stress. The human form carries one of the most highly developed computers on the planet. Your brain. We are not Petri dish (http://medical-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com/Petri+dish ) experiments under a microscope. At least I don’t think we are. Someone out there might disagree.

I don’t think I am better than anyone. As a matter of a fact, quite the contrary. I see my flaws and frailties very well. Where I have messed up in my life. How I continue to make the same mistakes. How I repeat cycles over and over. There is something in my programming of my brain that has to be rewired. My journals and writing allows for that. I do fully believe that someone out there will read my words and be able to see they are not alone with these thoughts. With these questions. I don’t know who it will reach. I do know if my words reach just one that is a blessing. If one life can be changed and saved it is worth the journey. Everyday you should impact one person in your life. You don’t know, but you may have just saved their life that day.

I am also a Patriot of sorts. I listen to the current music put out and watch TV just like everyone else. Some of my morals and ethics come into play here. The more I do research and learn about what is going on out there, the more I scream at myself that I need to do something or shut up. One can not preach freedom if one is not willing to fight for it.

Especially in the Arts department. The Arts have been our way of communicating to the world of what is happening in the world. I see the lies spread on the TV and it makes my stomach turn that I have not reached where I want to be on a personal level. I question if I will make it that far. Hey Eminem did. (www.eminem.com ) So did Sam Cooke (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0177492/bio ) I know those are artist.
However, that does not exclude other artist we could go to Dr. King (http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/peace/laureates/1964/king-bio.html ) or Malcolm X ( http://www.cmgww.com/historic/malcolm/ ) . They all believed and carried forth; they changed the world around them even when others told them they were crazy. The influences in my life have also been that of Anonymous programs and their 12 steps. I do not attend meetings anymore, at this time; however I do understand and appreciate their philosophies at times. I also try to apply it to my life on a daily basis. Hey right now I am still on step one. Admitting I am an Alcoholic and I am not in charge when the Alcohol is there in my system.

When I started ‘My Life on the ‘A’ Train’ I was not sure why. I had simply bought a journal book and wandered into a place here in Queens to eat. I had just started my journey on this discovery of the situation of my body right now. This PTSD nightmare and it is a nightmare. Do not ever doubt that. Those who have this condition know exactly what I am talking about. If you know what I am talking about, right now in my life, I am at the stage where even going to the city of Manhattan wears me out for 3 days after. Exhaustion sets in, my head pounds, I don’t want to deal with people, I can’t eat, sleep, function.

Please do not tell me this in my head. All my life I have been active. I was a cheerleader remember. That is a very active lifestyle. New York is an active lifestyle. Living is an active lifestyle. It is the travel that kills me. I am working on that. I tend to forget my body is in charge at this moment, even when my mind is working on a fast track of thinking.

I wanted to journalize my walk so I can reflect. Reflection is good you see. You can see where you are spinning your wheels and where you are moving forward and correct it. Or at least you should try too. In this life we are told we only get one life to live, no not the soap opera. To make the best of this life given. If this is the case, why do so many of us waste it on idleness? I am guilty of the same issue. This idleness. I am 37 years old today and well, I have life experience but no college degree. I have had 2 children but they do not live with me. Currently, I am a Freelance Writer, which translates into a starving artist and do anything you can to pay the bills.

What I have achieved in my life is not monumental or significant except for staying alive at this moment and time. That I suppose you could call an achievement. I know where I am headed. I know what I wish to achieve. It is getting there. I have been worried about putting my work out there. Why? Rejection, honesty, fear of the unknown. The questions run through your mind…What if this is not good? What if this does not make sense? What if I am wrong? What if my whole existence is a lie?
However inside, I know. I know my direction like the sailor directed by the North Star, like the warrior that is called to battle. There is an inner calm that says, move forward, the path is hard but it is worth it. Continue on. I feel much when I go to The City, as I call it.

History of life in the United States. Blood in the streets that was poured out hundreds of years ago. Freedom won and held because New York City still stands, as does America to a point. There are still cobble stone streets in some of Manhattan. It is here you feel the past of those who came before you, who walked on the same dream as you. That these streets called to you as if a silent voice on the wind, saying come home. It is time to make a difference. Why New York? I don’t like Cali...and yes I have been there.

New York is the city of dreams, the Lady of Freedom, and the hub of the world to this day. She shares her sea with others who are hubs, but we are so blessed to be granted to be in such a place lest we forget that everyone is allowed dreams and have hopes. Those hopes and dreams are in encouraged on the lips to our children and to those who come here from every “true” American.

Since I was 12, I have wanted to come here. To New York. Since I was young, I knew in my heart that there was a purpose for me. That I would go when the cold North Wind called me home. When Faith brought me neigh.

We are all so unique, so special. There should not be anger, jealousy amongst us. How can we change the world if we can not let go of such petty things that hold us back? Why is it we tell each other we want the best for them, yet under that same breath curse them or covet their gifts when they get that promotion or raise? Shouldn’t you rejoice and be glad in the tidings of your fellow men? I am a little different there I suppose. I will say in my defense, because I know certain people are reading this. I do not create anger or jealousy, I do however stand and defend myself when attacked and lied about. There is a difference.

I know I am to be where I am at this moment in time. I don’t know what tomorrow brings. If I will be here or if my words will simply be dust in cyberspace never to be read. Let me leave you with this…Inside each of us is a North Star. Be we are to lead the blind, help the poor, have a family, be a slave, or to be alone, we all have a purpose... We all are special in the eyes of who ever made us. Jealousy, anger, hate, frustration, coveting should never be a part of ones life to move forward, however defending one’s life should be.

This is not exactly how I planned on this chapter to go, but it went there. So on that note, this concludes our blogcast/bookcast day. We now return you to your syndicated broadcast show.

Chapter 1 Book 3

Welcome back to the A train. Just to let you know, compare this chapter to a 'Men in Black' chapter. ( http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0119654/ ) I am going to welcome you into my world of New York City; here after known as NYC, where to go for decent French Onion Soup, PTSD, and a survivor. It is important for me to explain…We are all survivors of something. Weather it be our parent’s abuse, bullies, death, segregation, starvation, humiliation, neglect, the wars that may be around you right now. The list can go on and on and we all can be classified with PTSD in this, today’s day and age. Show me a child in the United States that does not have some sort of Disability or Dysfunction, I will show you a liar. Well maybe if you are Amish but they live usually fairly naturally unless they are selling wood stoves to heat your home on TV. It is not just the United States either. It is everywhere in today’s day and age. You just have to look and see. I mean really see.

I grew up in a home I barely remember. In recent months as my roomie and I have been discussing some of my history. I saw nothing of it as I was living it. I just lived it, moved forward, and well never really felt or dealt with it. Sometimes you just don’t have the time to absorb, if you know what I mean.

It was pointed out to me that, ‘Yes every 17 year old holds their mothers hand as they die’. That got me to thinking what a surreal world I had. I never had looked at it that way. I remember very little of my childhood before High School and even High School has dots that are missing. This frightens me. I am missing chunks of my life that I am not sure if I should let sleeping dogs lie or open that can of worms. I remember a few limited things in my life. If you were to count on your fingers what I remember from birth to the age of about 10 or 11 years old I have the grand total of about 15 hand picked memories my fucked up mind will let me remember. Each significant, each its own damaging and incriminating nightmare of memories, that is if you let them haunt you.

I have been debating how this chapter would go. I am rewriting on the computer the three other books at this time, but my journaling became a part of me when I could and did write on the A train. Right now the A train has landed on platform called home base. Right now spring is in the air. I am fasting; my roomie works outside the home about 40 hours a week. I stay home and write and research and do what I have to do to survive while holding on to a hope and a dream, a leap of faith. Until the next story comes along for me to report on to get out in the world of NYC, at least out of my room.

Faith is something I have held on to since the day my mom died. I am very lucky that my faith can sustain my being on several levels. It is my guiding force in this life. I know it well and faith has never failed me; big words to preach from one that you don’t even know. My weakness, vanity, my strength with out question, faith.

As we make a quick subject change to a point, at least I warned you.

I watch these shows and see what they want to show you. What they want you to believe. Let me ask you, haven’t you noticed in society if and when you do not need the TV to tell you what you already know, you get labeled as a freak an odd ball. Everyone has a TV right? So often you get questioned if you are not part of the machine and handle or do things differently than the “average” person.

I have been questioned every step of my life of why I have done what I have done. If I were sane do you think I would have moved to NYC on a leap of faith, a hope, and a dream, and not a dime to my name? No sane person does that. I did. Wait, maybe Madonna might. My life on the A train is not just about the medical issues I go through from my screwed up childhood, but what I have seen and experienced in the world. My reactions based on faith, my sight as an outsider becoming an insider to NYC, what I see from my rose colored glasses. Hey it will be a fun read and you can see your life is really not that messed up.

As I talk to my extremely understanding and patient roommate, when I go on my rants and rages of tyrannical talk. I see things that others don’t. I am at a point in my life where I feel the revolutionaries run through the veins of my feet to my heart and soul. Egging me on to the end, to stand and say Wait, stop. What is going on here? How do I stop this madness in the Alice in Wonderland world presented to us in this the Candy Coated United States situation.

As I research my stories I feel how certain journalists who were there before me, who wanted to tell the truth felt as the lies go deeper and deeper in the Government and I am uncovering. As I do this I put two and two together, certainly not as fast as I watch the Government steal from the children of the future right before our very eyes. Yet we are so medicated and pacified by what we are spoon feed from the grade of well honestly, birth. The guidance around our children, in this day of technology, are that of great influence. The propaganda spread on a daily basis that is, as long as freedom is duct taped and silenced.

Don’t tell the truth of what we are doing. Gasp, the people of the Free world might get upset and we can’t have that.

I have become jaded living in the City. It is like this downpour of every inhumanity known to man. Pimps sitting on Park Ave, heroin users on Madison with bruises so visible that unless you are inhuman you can not but feel. There is the Gods of Rockefeller, CNN to spread the lies, to allow the world to see what the government wants you to see on your TV and computer. Blocking of the free words spewed by the men while society should be crying out, saying, “Listen Asshole, we have a problem. We need to talk.”

With PTSD you live in this constant spin of disorder in your mind. It is so hard to explain. You have debilitating situations depending upon where you are and at what stage you are at. It can create so many other things, migraines, pain, depression, chronic fatigue, night terrors. The list goes on and on. Each is debilitating in its own right but add them together and you become paralyzed in your own home and your own head. I call it the hermit stage, but that stage is coming to an end for me and I dread it. I dread dealing with people, the touches, and the stairs. I am not what you expect behind the computer screen. I am not the person you would expect to meet. An insane, beautiful woman. It is not the normal thing, they usually call them psychopaths.

My journals are my therapy and when I was told about live journal I thought it was a weird thing but the thing is now I get it. It is a way to reach people; you can reach them or they can reach you. Journaling is one of the most important things to therapy that you can have. It is a tangible way to touch your heart and mind; it is a way to heal. It is a way to get your words out with out them cutting you back. Journaling has saved my life more than once. Writing has saved my life more than I care to admit. My writing gave me solace, it still does. I am not sure how I am going to handle this, my mind races so fast some times. I have a friend who feels I have ADD. I feel like I am not doing enough. That my time is constantly running out. I am on this constant treadmill, running trying to catch up and begging for the break I am due.

At a very young age I knew that I was to do something in this world. I was going to make a difference. I am still wondering about that. I look at my age and who and what I am, what I have done in the world and to people. I scream inside of the words used to cut and destroy them in my wake of hate and anger. A part of me is tired of being silent of what happened in my life but because I am not a whiner I usually keep it in. There is another part of me screams inside saying no; this is to share, because someone out there needs to hear this. I feel like this crazy person inside my head, screaming, pulling my hair out stuck in the movie 1984 while big brother waits on me to tell them I love them only to be shot in the head when I do; when I submit to not having thoughts or questions. ( http://www.online-literature.com/orwell/1984/ ) Another part says do what comes natural. Write; it saved your life. It only has to reach one. See the other two books are not out yet, so if you are confused it is ok. I have 2 parts to this book that is still being put on the pc.

I just needed to release the pain inside. For cutters out there, this is my cutting tool. Showing the world how screwed up in the head I really am. I look back on my life and wonder why I did not become Manson or Hannibal Lector? What makes me tick different? I certainly grew up in that state of mind and could have easily slipped to that side. I will tell you I have no desire to go out and kill a bunch of people to get my word across. I would rather use what I am good at. Writing, I have become this stagnant mold in the water and I am tired of that. I know I am moving forward, fighting the good fight but I also feel time slipping though my hands as if time is running out and I will never make my mark in the world. I know I can not be the only one that feels this way in the world today. My life experiences have made me an expert in my life.

I have removed most of the people in my life who have caused me great harm. Harmed my Psyche. Part of that is admitting to them your wrongs, but also stating what you will not tolerate in your life. If they can not accept that they can not accept you. My sperm donor falls into that world. I have many personalities; each angry part of me has an angry child. I am a very angry child inside. Crying tears of blood that absorb into the skin before any see what is there. It becomes this pulsating inner organism that can destroy you if you let it. Like Carrie. I know I reference to the American stories but I don’t know enough foreign world films to compare there. So please forgive my ignorance to that fact.

I was going to bed last night and I saw myself as this rat caught in a trap seeking the exit and that cheese the scientist reward you with. Shiny things, food, reward, good girl. Patting my head and sending me on my merry way. I too often feel I am living in some psychedelic world as this curmudgeon whispers in under my breath about how the world is falling into corruption, that we have become a society so blind we can’t wake up enough to save ourselves. This can not be true.

There is a child inside me that whimpers at the tree of life, seeing what we are loosing so quickly. That my problems of my history given to me seem so small and insignificant, as I am an insignificant against this great Mother Nature. That we are throwing to the wayside because of our lack of trust and faith in ourselves and others around us.

With my medical conditions I go through on a daily basis, which I will get into further at another time, I still see the world and where it is at this moment and there are times the pain is so overwhelming all I can do is draw into myself and wish to sleep thousands of years instead of standing and saying wait, something is wrong with this system. The mechanical people pass by me on a daily basis here in NYC; they are headed to their own world, to their own problems. You can not blame them. NYC is a wonderful city, please do not get me wrong, but it also holds the apitomy of every apprehensible crime known to the human spirit. You can not live in NYC and not feel the despair that runs through its streets. Especially since 9-11.

When I look at the large scope of things my survival is nothing compared to what mans PTSD survival issue may be. This concludes our book cast day. And if this is your first trip on the A train, welcome aboard it is only fair to warn you to buckle your seatbelts, read the disclaimer, it is going to be a bumpy ride. Welcome aboard. All Aboard the ATA who are coming. You are free to move about the cabin space provided.

Prologue otherwise known as catching the reader up.

“My Life on the A Train” has two books before this however; they are not on the computer yet for publication. I am a simple woman that lives in New York City, Queens to be exact. I am a Freelance Writer here, so along with half of the economy, my money is always tight, but somehow a higher power and Faith has guided and protected me so I have not had to sell my soul to the machine.

So in this edition of ‘My Life on the A Train’ where you join me in my life, I have been recently diagnosed with a condition that thousands of people deal with on a daily basis. I know much like my life, some of my writing is a confusing, frustrating, irritating at times. I ask you bear with me. I do have some very funny life situations. Everyone needs laughter in their lives.

Right now, my life is in a suspension mode, so I needed something to do while finishing my other books that are going to press by the end of the year. With my diagnosis of my condition, this is especially difficult for someone like me who has been labeled as a “work-o-holic” to be in suspension mode. I am very long winded as well so please bear with me on that. I will work on it. I am easily distracted and can change my topics in a heartbeat, or a key stroke in this case. Before I tell you what I have been labeled with by the State of New York, I wish to give you a background on me. A sort of self-introduction so you know what you are getting into before you begin down this crazy road.

I am like many, we all have stories of being survivors of abused children, marriage, and Government. Especially those who are artist, it shows in their work.

I am an artist, I am an American and Patriot of our Country, I am opinionated, and a bit narcissistic. I am a Gonzo Journalist. http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/1069436/gonzo-journalism I would be labeled as a Conspiracy theorist by some and a freedom writer by others. I am just curious and research, research, research until I find the answer. If 2 plus 2 does not add up to 4 there is a problem in my mind and I question it.

I feel it is important to have an introduction to the books that I will be placing out there for the masses to read. I am from Generation X, born in 1971. I grew up in Colorado all over, but the one place I spent a lot of the time is Lamar, Colorado. A little town down in the South East part of Colorado. I have posted a link for you so you can see where I grew up as a teen.http://www.ci.lamar.co.us/ This is an important fact to know before you begin to read my words. I have traveled to Alaska, lived in California, Maine, Utah, Massachusetts, and now New York City, which is its own world in itself, the concrete jungle.

I feel it is important to warn the reader as to where they are headed with the writer so they can make a choice as to whether or not they wish to read their works. Not just something that is forced on you like you are in school. I hold fast to the Constitution and use my 1st Amendment rights to the fullest ability as I am able. I believe in education, thus there will be links in my writing for you to follow if you so choose to do.

I want to thank you the reader for joining me on this road of my world, the world of a dreamer, a believer, someone who knows that inside everyone there is a beautiful creature waiting to get out. I am not sure how this book will go over. It is part of a much larger project that has been in the works for several years on paper and in the mind, and the time has come to get it going. It is a project for humanity, so as you read my words, if you donate to what you enjoy, you will be helping humanity in this day and time and allowing free press to cross your computer screens. This humanity project is a pipe dream I will admit it but simple in its thought process. It is a foundation that will help people all around the world. I mean actually help them. It will have to start in NYC, but the idea is based off the story of Pay it Forward. http://www.payitforwardmovement.org/

I believe that if we all help, we can change things. We can create the world around us and transform it. I know it is a big undertaking, however it is my baby and I wish to get this baby rolling if you can understand what I mean. I will give my word on paper, or well the computer at this time that 10% before taxes will go to this fund for any profits off this book. I know that does not seem like much, but when you figure if I had a 1,000 readers a day who gave $1.00, .10 cents goes to the humanitarian fund. For one day that is only $100.00, however, that is also, around $3,000 a month. So as the readership grows and if that is all they gave, the fund will grow. Thus everyone is taking the pay it forward concept to an extreme.

This year, being the kick off year, our first recipient will be the Bronx Zoo. http://www.bronxzoo.com/ Why? They had to fire some animals and well I am not ok with that. I know that the money that is granted will allow the animals to keep their jobs. Also I can go there and hand them the money in person, so that everyone will know that is exactly where the money went. Depending upon the amounts that are made for each month, will depend on which project we help. There are several places that need the money right now, food shelters, homeless shelters, zoos, no kill animal shelters, etc. Eventually the idea behind this project is that 10% of this humanitarian money will stay in New York because that is where this book is coming out of, but that other 90% will go back into the community that the money comes from. This allows all the readers to think of places in their community that could use this financial help. We need to give back as artist, not just artist but as humanity to make humanity work. I want to help in that situation. This is the best way I can think of doing it.

I am going to put book 3 out as a blog because blogs are so much a part of our lives now days and it is an excellent way to get your work out there. This allows me to see what type of readership I will have and allow me to be a freelance writer as well. As you donate to help this book it will keep running and will pay for the bills so I can keep writing. Shameless but it is the truth.

We always say we want the truth. I am going to share my truths with you and allow you to decide if you like the truth or not from my prospective. I have a George Carlin wit, I question everything around me, I am a cynic, and I am an artist. You have been warned.

This book, ‘My Life on the A Train’, started over a bowl of French onion soup and the current situations in my life. Many people who heard my story told me I should share it so others can see that there is hope beyond the painted veil that we are presented with in this life. My story is no better and no worse than some. My walk of life is not easy, but it is my life. I am not saying I am better than anyone, never have, never will. I have many frailties and faults. I believe we all see ourselves far worse than anyone can judge us.

The first two books are hand written and are being placed on the computer. Some of the content are of an adult nature. So if you are shocked easily then I would not read my words. If you have an issue with Freedom of Speech, shut your browser. You do not have to read my words. I am not writing these words to sound like I am whining or complaining, just showing people the process it took me to get to a point in my life I could actually write my words down and share them with the world. Call it group therapy. Feel free to leave your comments. They all will be read and I do not delete comments nor approve them. We are all entitled to Freedom of Speech. I am in NYC, last I checked that is still part of the United States and that is covered in the Constitution. http://www.usconstitution.net/const.html It is the 1st Amendment.

I also am a Freelance Journalist and know that there are lies told to us on a daily basis; from GitMo to the budget. I have access here in NYC that most don’t have. I am here where a lot of this activity is going on. I know that we as a people of this United States have the ability to change things if we choose to. If we have the information we can take action. We have young men and women dieing for our country and it is a tragedy. We have men, women, and children dieing in our streets on a daily basis. Someone has to stand up for them. Someone has to speak for them. We are that someone. We are their voices. Sometimes we just need someone to speak out first as an example. Or join in other with other voices who speak the same.

I have seen a great deal of the United States. I have lived with several different cultures. I have worked in food shelters and walked the streets of New York. Passed by the World Trade Center and touched Glaciers. My life has been a fantastic writer’s journey to say the least. I want to share the beauty I have seen as well. Share my experiences. I also want to write my own autobiography. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Autobiography before I become somebody that is recognized as a writer in today’s world.

My chapters are very much blocks out of my life, much like a blog. This is why it is called ‘My Life on the A Train’. There are many stops on a subway train. We are just along for the ride. I feel it is what we do on this ride that matters. You never know who you are going to touch or how you will touch them. I believe we should touch one person everyday in our lives to help them along the road of life.

I also believe in humor. Humor is the medicine of life that cures the broken heart, the downtrodden, and the hopeless. If you can get a chuckle you have at least made a positive impact in someone’s life that day.

Now that you know about me to a point, let me welcome you aboard the A train. My condition I have been diagnosed with, PTSD, not just PTSD but a type of PTSD that I will never be rid of. Happy days are ahead on this bumpy ride.

Disclaimer:

*I believe in my First Amendment Rights, I believe in your First Amendment Rights. I will defend to my death for your rights to say what you will, please remember that as you read and may become upset or angry. You do not have to agree with me just as I do not have to agree with you. I am a very strong, tenacious, woman that has very strong beliefs for a reason, this is my way of sharing them.

*Oh it should be noted that most should not read this if you are under the age of 16 with out your parents knowing, just in case, not because I do not think that you are not capable of reading this, I am sure you are, you made it past the 6th grade, it just contains some adult content and well honestly, as a parent myself, I would want to know what my children are reading.

*Also as an artist I feel it is our responsibility to take responsibility for what we give to the public and to have some self monitoring to the current situation of mass media and any forms of mass media including video games. Argue all you want, but the creator of the monster is responsible for its care until it leaves your hands,

*Oh and artist please don’t send me any letters of hate mail. Honestly can you tell me that current book, painting, or game, or any other assorted artistic thing you are currently working on is not bane of your existence or simply put, a monster.

*Please take my blog/book writing with a grain of salt and enjoy as you read.