Thursday, July 30, 2009

"Guitar Art 4" by Lluvia, 18"x24"

"Guitar Art 3" by Lluvia, 11.5"x14"

I will try to take a better picture with different lighting tomorrow. The colors of this picture are closer to the actual, but it is slightly blurry.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

"Portal" by Lluvia, 18"x24"

The thorns close enough
to touch
are the ones

that puncture, draw blood.

She was aggravated that her amphetamine use to combat adhd and the combined lack of sleep and cigarettes that she smoked right before she was taken, and especially her brain trauma, were all being ignored. They were trying to stick her with the label of 'psychotic, bipolar mania,' in hopes that her evidence might never matter. And they might try to take her again, blame her 'disorder,' if she ever threatened to go public. And they had the money and power to do it. That is what she was up against. There were others like her. She had met other 'repeaters' in the asylum.

But what the doctors told her was that most people who had this experienced their first 'episode' in their teenage years or early adulthood. Her experience at age 38 was very rare, very unlikely to occur again. Yeah, they all know I don't plan to let them take me again. But she had been prepared for the diagnosis, was not shocked. It was one of the possible diagnoses they had planned. She had read.

Whatever the diagnosis, she still had her old evidence, some that she had overlooked, and had pieced together more of the puzzle. There want me to seem as 'unsound' as possible. But my proof is even better than I originally thought.

The morning she was taken, she had driven six hours all night from her father's. And she had trusted her best friend Kennie, also, her boss, as well as the trainees' counselor. The first two received promotions during all of this. Kennie had also been in contact with her father. She was 'special' to him. At his house, he had cried, using his nickname for her, saying that she had tried to help. One of her uncles was sitting at the kitchen table, listening as her father tried to get her to see his side. Did the uncle understand the reference to the comic strip character?

Maybe Kennie had tried to help. She was not sure anymore. After all, there was the matter of Nick...
No. Kennie was as surprised as Nick was when they put me in the ambulance to take me to the crazy house. She did not know how twisted my father could be anymore than I did.

She had gotten to know her father, to an extent, as an adult. Her mother retained all custody rights when she, as a six year old, last saw her father. Until she found him fifteen years later. They lived hours apart, so she only saw him once or twice a year. There were letters, telephone calls. She never thought she would be anything but safe with him. Thought that all families stuck together no matter what. Her other family did, her siblings with her mother and her adopted daddy. They squabbled from time to time, but no one outside the family could mess with any of them without drawing the ire of the rest.

He had wanted to use her reading abilities. Some of her co-workers had wanted sex, and a few wanted her job. Other people wanted her to be part of a game. The rest had their own personal reasons. A few did have some business to worry about because she had accidentally mentioned them. In fact, her father would intimidate her every time she found out something. Then as she told him how she found out, he would smile and nod, encourage her to keep talking. The first couple of days, she did not feel threatened, but she began to notice his interrogation patterns, even anticipate them. And she still told him. Didn't dare not. The feeling that he was too involved, that something wasn't right, especially the blackmail and the 'counseling,' made her want to leave.

The day she came home after finding something suspicious about someone over him, someone she worried was trying to get him fired, he was very upset. He and her uncle thought that she had gone through paperwork in her uncle's room where she was sleeping. Why would I do that? Why would I even think about doing that? she had said aloud and continued to ask herself as they had entered the room and looked around to inspect it. She had to start explaining - fast. Her uncle listened long enough to know she was telling the truth. Left. With a terribly uncomfortable look on his face. But her father had wanted to hear more, which she told him.

Yes, his military connections gave him power - over her ceo. But she had sealed her fate when she wrote about the people beyond his control. Were they the ones who had ordered her to be taken? Or did he lie to her? Maybe it was his idea since she would not go along with his plans.

She was too much of a wildcard then. Still trying to find out what was going on. Some, including her father, tried to tell her that the conflicts were separate. A few were, maybe, but most were linked. The lesser conflicts were mere distractions from the things occurring in the higher levels of power. Only, she hadn't fallen for them. Besides, if they had nothing to do with each other, then she would have been allowed to pursue her blackmailers openly.

Did they think she had grown tired of shaming them? In truth, exposing the way they ran things was extremely satisfying. She was spending more time, however, living her life, doing other purposeful, pleasant things that did not require vengeance.

Last night, though, she was thinking about a conversation at her table in the breakroom about a year earlier. Some of her co-workers had high school age daughters who hoped to be homecoming queen. Ugh, she had heard this conversation before. Nothing against pageants. She had participated in one back in the day. Her friends were doing it, and it turned out to be fun. One was enough.

Their daughters probably wouldn't get to be queen because the Hispanics always voted for the Hispanic girl. That was the usual complaint. But this time they had reason to cheer. The high school changed the way the voting was done, so now the white girls would get a chance to be homecoming queen. They giggled in their glee.

She thought about voicing her opinion, but kept her mouth closed on this one. She had not been part of the conversation, had no children at the high school, and she knew nothing would be done. So she filed it. Guess the mothers of the debutantes - oh yes, these girls were also debutantes... I guess it's not old fashioned to have a debutante ball? It's like a QuinceaƱera, I suppose... only the debutante balls are for high society. Hmmm... The mothers. Guess the 'homecoming queen' title is that important. Don't that have enough without being jealous of that? After all, they are most of the ballerinas, cheerleaders, dancers, because they are the ones who can afford it. Now they are trying to manipulate the student votes to go their way.

The whole thing had reminded her of the Texas cheerleader mom incident. The guys busting up figure skater Nancy Kerrigan's knee. The guy who stabbed Monica Seles. Okay, if this is what the First Self-Righteous and MoutainPoint churches are about, then I am glad to stay at home. Many of the well-to-do who worked with her or who were anybody in town attended one of these two churches. She had been invited to both several times, but she and her husband had only visited First Self-Righteous. Never went back.

After revisiting her file, this deal sounded like what happened to herself. She was still proving it. Did not think anything would ever be done, though. Too many higher ups wanted it all swept under the rug. Hell, too many people period wanted it swept under the rug. She had enough evidence at her father's that he was willing to attempt blackmailing her blackmailers. But, yes, she had put more pieces together in her head. Blackmail was not what she wanted. Justice, fairness, change. Better values. Straightforwardness, not hypocrisy. Those were the things she wanted. Won't happen overnight. But the good guys are working to try to keep it from happening again. She could feel it. At least, she thought she could.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Katydids, Matydids - I'd Never Seen This Before

One thing I learned about katydids is that the male has brown markings (on his "back") that the female lacks.

Thursday evening I went outside at around ten thirty. Saw these two lovebugs. Ran for the camera and yelled for Chris to come look. He did.

They were in the same spot for nearly an hour, only a couple of feet off the ground. I had to tell the dog to leave them alone a time or two. We were not the only spectators. (Daddy longlegs came to view the show.)

Quiet time outdoors relaxing, thinking. And I wanted to know how long they would be.

After an hour or so, he began to push her up and around the trunk of the tree. This lasted at least thirty more minutes.

Some time while I was waiting, I did see a rather large opposum on the other side of the fence at the back of the lot. No time, or enough light, for a picture.

At midnight, they were twelve to fifteen feet from where they were when I first saw them. No signs of stopping. I got tired, went inside.

Too cold chills bruised bones,

Warmer gales soothe aching everything,

She knew the hours would pass

Slower and faster,


Until fated peace come at last,
Peaceful giving, serving,
Beautiful beatitudes,
Alternate latitudes,
Another kind of insane reasoning.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Give me a color map
to dazzle your eyes,
sweep wispy skies,
send butterflies,
fell feathers trapped
in a roller coaster flight;

Give me a knife,
I will carve you a pipe
to play in the night,
Off key melodies,
Firefly rhapsodies,
Cricket sighs.

Feel the fire
inside my chest,
Zeal, passion
Beneath my breast,
Burning life
within each breath.

Two initials can

too many,

even in context.

She told him that for now

She would be pretty,
Play this role,

Finish sewing this piece

Into her quilt,

But that she would be


To begin a new piece

For her quilt
In the spring.

Large t
own soap opera,
a miniature landscape
of America.

Took turns eating

Monkey brains,

Couldn't get enough,
Laughed as the monkey

Continued to scream,

Their mouths as big as the

Cut away portion of
Monkey's skull.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

His tongue,
accented to precision,
Devoted to taming her
wildly desperate passions,
To control the languishing
arduous zones
of fiery temptations,
Translated her to
celestial altitudes,
Their flowering union
lost in darkness.

Stuff That Would Bore My Sisters, 11

Hellfighters, 1968, starring John Wayne and Katherine Ross

Sisters, I learned a lot from this movie about Texas oil well firefighters. One of the most important points was a few minutes into the movie. The leading younger man, Jim Hutton, meets a young lady at the site of the fire. He kisses her without asking before he goes off to fight he fire - barely knows her, btw. On his way back, he smiles to himself then glazes his eyes and looks past her. Pays her no attention, dawdles in the doorway, stumbles in - but leaves the door open. She runs in after him! He knew she would do that. It was a trick. How do I know? I've used it many times on my husband, lol.

Sisters - watch out for open "doors" and "windows" on the internet. If you go, like I did, then make sure you take notes - like I did!

The font is red because the dudes in the movie wore red. I will note that John Wayne portrayed a gentleman, and the Jim Hutton character behaved himself once he married. But they did enjoy putting out fires. I suppose everyone needs a hobby, ha ha. At least they didn't start the fires!
Fear of socialism
did not stop
public education
from failing to create
a socialized government
and overthrowing

Fear of socialism
did not stop
public education
from helping to create the most
technologically advanced
country on the planet.

Fear of socialism
did not stop
public education
from being a catalyst for
some of the brightest minds
in the world,
who came from poverty.

Fear of socialism
did not stop
the wealthy
from building their own schools and
from making them private, or
from hiring tutors, or
from home schooling their children.

Fear of socialism
could stop
the same country from producing the
healthiest people
on the planet.

Fear of socialism
could stop
the same country from producing

that do not have to be outsourced,

that would give millions more money
to spend,

billing clerks,
insurance agents,
et cetera,

in the health care industry.

Fear of socialism
could stop
the same country from thriving
as well
in the long run
as countries
who take better care
of their

tax paying,


Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Time traveler,
Give me your "know how,"
spin my reason into a mad swirl,
lifting, tossing,
faster than light, slower than stone,
a freefall of ecstasy.

The Dude Who Hated Everybody

She didn't understand why he had to make fun of the pink camo desert hat she tried on.

"That's a San Francisco hat."

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously. The strange man did not bother to explain, but laughed and mumbled something she didn't quite hear. For thirty-eight years, she generally did not think carefully about regular conversations with people. And most of the time she only ever purposely looked for fault when she argued with her husband. She had always believed everyone had good intentions, never wanted to see or hear the negative in anyone until they forced her to. One more reason learning was difficult.

"I'm all girl," she said first, not understanding. Then he told her that "Men just don't wear pink." Catching on, she replied that real men wore pink and that her husband looked hot in pink. Seeing she was undaunted, he gave her a few "helpful" tips. One was that some hunters wore pink because deer don't see that color as well as they do orange. " She must have seemed an airhead to him. (She did not understand his statement or any of the similar references she had read until she was reflecting during her journal writing.) Then he asked to see the hat which she handed to him. He explained that the tail is supposed to be worn in the back, so when you get the tail tight enough, you tie a knot in it. She ignored his remarks and stared at him. A good friend had explained to her once about "tying a knot in someone's tail." Had she fully understood his veiled references and foreseen how the conversation would end, she would have bought the pink hat and found an orange one, too, despite her lack of shopping funds.

Thought he'd given up trying to frazzle her. A hat in each hand, she was internally debating which hat to buy. And even if she did not like the content, he was giving her information. She had to learn the ugly stuff to become wiser, more alert to what went on around her. So she listened as he spoke of his days as a history teacher. Said most high school students thought all wars were "one war." Couldn't differentiate. Said anyone who knew how to read it "right" could read his hat and know where he'd been. This, she knew, was true. He pointed to the young man walking toward them, said the guy worked for the post office. He was wearing a p.o. hat. The dude assumed the young guy was a vet cause he worked for the post office, but he was not. To be so young, he was smart. Knew not to waste his time like she was doing. Still learning. She tried to stop listening to the sad man, though, when he told a disgusting joke about Arabs, as if she weren't a 'lady' standing there, to the cashier who at least had the gentleman's sense to be embarrassed.

Her husband was finally ready to check out. She said she would pay for her own stuff, try to stay on budget. The dude, listening to their exchange, told her "You work for the government. You can write as many checks as you want."

"Why do you think I work for the government?" she asked him, "What did I say that made you think I work for the government? I'm unemployed." Too much information. Instead of answering the question, he replied that his wife worked for the government. But he suddenly thought he had an opening. Relocate and work to keep out illegals along the border, he suggested.

"I don't like how there are some people shooting at the people trying to cross," she told him, diving headfirst into the mud. He began talking over her to explain why it was "okay," that they were taking jobs, that it was breaking the law.

"Nobody minded when they built up this area for the Olympics," she retorted.

"What Olympics?" the history teacher popped and then asked again when she stared at him momentarily, not believing he had just asked her that.

"The one in Atlanta." In her head, Duh.

"And when was that?" he shot back angrily.

"1996," she almost laughed. He didn't have a good answer for that, just started talking again about how "you can't have it both ways." But wasn't that what he wanted? For illegals to work certain jobs cheaply and then leave when money was tight? He was in no shape for construction or other outdoor work. And she doubted he would enjoy washing dishes or cleaning toilets for others.

"Well, there is one way to uphold the law, and then there is another way," she argued, "and some of those people are women and children." The dude was unphased. Her husband realized she was not listening to him and pulled gently on her arm. She followed, secretly glad that he was taking her. Got the last word, though. Maybe she shouldn't have, but she tried to appeal to the humanity she hoped was deep down in there somewhere. The lesson for her, however, was dynamite, hit home hard. Keep your mouth closed and look the part, she told herself.

She did not understand why this "would be lord of an empty lake" thought shooting unarmed people who tried to cross the border was "okay." She never argued that border crossing was against the law. Never tried to say "do nothing." Just that there was a more humane way to uphold the law. She did not even bother trying to convince him - who would be impossible to convince - that every suggested legislation was shot down, that it would never be "good enough" for anyone who opposed legalization. In fact, she had openly supported Bush's plan for illegals from all other countries, not only from Mexico. For one, they and everyone else could be documented, and the country would be safer. They would also be eligible for more or better benefits, like social security, college loans, insurance for the children. Eleven million people could buy health insurance and car insurance, and many more of them could attend college. Spend money on so many other things. What they could put into the economy was far more than they'd ever take out.

She loved her country, was thankful for being a citizen more than ever. She would wear the cool USA hat with the American flag, because she wanted for the Superman motto to be real: "Truth, justice, and the American way." Since the law was the law, she would wholeheartedly be willing for the government to spend more money for jobs on the border in order to treat crossers humanely and not to see them shot down like animals.

Sing a song of friendship pins,

a pocket full of hope,
four and twenty nachos
with lots of cheese to pour,
When the doors were opened,
the cheers began to yell,
most of them would tell you,
laughing, "Go to hell!"
The welders were the farmers
were mechanics for the cars,
They didn't wear masks,
but they made it pretty far.
The fairest of the fair
were fairest everywhere,
the ballers were the grooms,
when they washed their hair.
They all got together
and played a little game,
got out of hand, and
they thought they lost their names.
The new kid, not the cool kid,
found out about the loss,
Got a winning ticket,
tried to give it to the boss.
The boss was on vacation,
forgot to check his notes,
but he had a banged up brother
who kept him on his toes.
Now the kid may have a goldmine
for the welders and the fair,
and the ballers who were grooms
if they thought they dared.

She tho
ught her new hats ate

her old sunglasses,
but the acorn and the dog turd
stole deja vu, a perfect view
underneath the bamboo.

Not his regular drink,

used to partake to hang with friends,
just rolled along to watch
the chatter,
didn't matter,
a bearded guy with strange accents,
another from out of town,
Lady Chatterly's lover with a bazooka,
and the rest in the kitchen.
She drank with them once, two months ago.
She couldn't always handle her liquor.
Bet they drink like crazy on the weekends.

I need a red hot Mazda, please. Call me. xxxxxx

So many puzzle pieces.
It was easy to overlook some of the pieces, even weeks after she returned home. She thought of her father's "day" job at the food processing plant. What was the connection between the that one and the home operation where she lived? Her town was known for food processing, had provided jobs for several decades. Grew into a worldwide operation years ago.

A fall instructor-in-training, with another of the B-level instructors, worked part-time at one of the local food processing plants, but it was an office job. Over the years, other instructors had led seminars in motivation at various plants. The newspapers had written many articles, though she had not read them closely. Nearly twenty years earlier, she had worked as a lift truck operator in one of the plants. That was back in the days when the cafeteria had a self-serving line every day where the employees could choose from a variety of dishes.

At her father's, she questioned that there was a food processing plant on the base. She hadn't realized before and could not think of what more to ask at the time. The unvoiceable query must have been tapping its thumb on the back of her brain, and it was just now loud enough - or other sounds were low enough - that she could finally hear it.

How far did this cover-up extend? How much money traded hands? The only reason it still concerned her was that the illegal activities seemed to reach farther than even she would have believed. Did the people at the highest levels understand that usurpers were working right under their noses? She had to believe that they did not know. For one, jobs were more plentiful, employers were more generous, society seemed more compassionate even ten years ago. It was only since people of power began moving from one central location to other states that progress slammed on the breaks and started moving in reverse.

These people had a history of being cutthroat. If this is what the future looks like, then she was worried. Few people she knew liked their style, and those would probably eventually be burned unless they were very good at obeying commands. Servitude tasted, to her, like ipecac. Dudes, you've got another thing comin'. Not going to make a public spectacle of myself again. I know how you get people. You won't get me again.

Countless others had endured the experience, knowing they had been played by power monsters. Not just here. Not just in this country even. How many over the years had used the words to control people? It's all right there in the writing. The new ones, they have been building a society to suit their greed. The old bosses, do they not know, or are they powerless to stop it? Like the old guard at the end of Elizabeth's reign? They knew, but some were tired. Others took for granted her 'golden age' and thought a man would be better. Maybe a better man would have been better. She even chose him in the last moments of her life because he was possibly the least of the evils.

This new puzzle would put itself together on the back burner in her head. She could not always find right away where she filed stuff. Had to leave it alone, to simmer, while she stirred it occasionally. Now that she was thinking about it, though, she realized that other companies had also begun about seven or eight years ago to change their employee benefits programs. And not for the good of the employee, but to put more money in the pockets of the higher ups. Or to at least keep up their profits - at employee expense. Such was the case at another company she worked for part-time. Sick days had to be "earned" anymore, and the cost of insurance went up. That happened after the original owner's wife died. The owner had passed on a few years earlier.

Was it a new way of thinking by younger generations? Was it that unpopular, traditional values were not taught enough? Something was going on. Surely, someone had the answers. If not, there were a lot of things at stake.

"What's Going On?" For Gates

I'm crazy? ;-)

1Supagraph did a great job on this video.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

had courage,
had compassion,
not to tell me,

but to be my


and to ask me
how it would be

for the rest,

if I

the sun would burn their eyes,
their hides.

The desert is dry,

scorching hellish dry,
not for everyone,

almost not for me, but
I can't not walk.

Not everyone has to walk, but

everyone can choose to

think -

about why the desert exists,

and could there be water if
the line joining hands were long enough,

and how we could grow the grasslands
to stop the desert's spread.

For your part,

your earthly this and that,
safe and secure,
encouraging to detail
as much as possible of the dream,
sealing my window,
but that god is not my god,
that faith, not my faith,
that belief, not mine.
Used the trust,
used the love ,
used it...
Remains the lie,
remains the hurt.
Still love you,
won't let the negative control,
manipulate, regulate,
influence my mind, my heart, my soul,
not this game that life plays.

What We Had...

Pillow Talk (Chris's Song), December 2000

I know it’s time to go to sleep, but I’m not ready yet.
Pull me closer, let’s talk about the night that we first met.
I must have been blind or out of my mind
because I didn’t see

That the answer to my prayers was right in front of me.
Now that we’re together I know everything that I missed,
And my heart became yours forever
the moment that we kissed.

I love the way you talk
and the way you walk just drives me crazy.

But my heart stops every time you call me “baby.”

Sweet, sweet thoughts of you
are always running through my head.

Every morning I wish we could forget the world
and stay in bed.

There’s no place I’d rather be than wherever you are.
I miss you when we’re apart, so don’t ever go too far.
I can do without you till the day comes to an end.
I tell myself that I will soon be in your arms again.
Every time we reunite, I feel like you just saved me,
And I know the world is right when you call me “baby.”

When you shower me with kisses and
caress me with your hands,

I fall madly in love with you over and over again.
I promise to never leave you – I will love you until I die.
Then I will still love you as a spirit in the sky.
No man has ever nor will ever mean so much to my life.
The only thing you can ever do more is
ask me to be your wife.

Whenever you do, please,
don’t be afraid that I’ll say “maybe.”

Just promise me that I will always be your “baby.”


A heart-shaped pocket,
One love, then two,
Took off like a rocket

A handmade token,
With love and glue,
For words unspoken


Happiness without fear,
Wedded bliss,
When did you miss
Heartbroken tears
Shed for lost yet longed for love
as the widowed mourning dove
waits alone upon the wire
singing, crying desolate desire;
Return to a place for the heart to rest,
Mend the windswept, tattered nest.


Uncoerced, unscripted lines
flowed like wine
from innocent, untarnished lips
the sweet honey dripped
onto sensuous, covetous eyes
before there were lies,
before secrets were kept
the heart you held
a spring without source,
without force,
streamed endless devotion.

Eyes belonged to you alone
For you shone,
Unmasked, unveiled, uninhibited
love at your fingertips,
Sacrificed all others
giving all to you, lover,
Accepted the errors, misprints
of your chapters within,
Would the future return
love for the lessons learned,
would the spring rejoin the ocean.


Trepidation, hint of delight,
what bud may bloom in the night?
Perennials will flourish, die,
The annual will spring to life
With time, the roots of love will grow,
and flower as they did before.


Photographs relive a love story,
a fairy tale beginning,
the peasant boy and the girl in ashes
fell in love;
Fairy tale endings
would not be happy without disasters
and evil forces,
Mistakes and underlying fables,
Rites of passage,
Tests of will;
Word of mouth, the written word,
Believe half of seen, none of heard,
The truth is known but to few;
The heroes,
led by their hearts,
sometimes faltering for lack of tangible,
seen, heard proof,
a glass slipper, or less,
are born to their destiny,
borne in their destiny,
find their way,
their own path to destiny,
for the truth does not die.

"To Me" by Chris when we were dating. The note is still in our scrapbook.

You have my hands to hold you
My eyes to look into, to see
My love for you

Monday, July 20, 2009

Another surprise,
musicians frozen in time,
hearts play their own tune
to the background of
water rushing steeply,
curls softly chime in
the blissful breeze
brushing gently,
lovers hold hands,
speak with their spirits.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

"Unbound" by Lluvia

Many of the people who wanted to support her were embarrassed by her. One day she seemed to be thinking about the government, the economy, history, and the next day, she was searching for something personal. When she talked openly of her sexuality, her family , her friends were uncomfortable.

The truth came one day, that her spiritual enlightenment had not changed her ability to open her heart, her mind, her soul to others. She had always been an open book, and so she remained. For her to be a different person instead of an improving person would have made her something inhuman.

Inhumanity was a terrifying existence that she had witnessed over and over again throughout her trials and tribulations. So many people were bound by the letters of the rules and regulations that they had forgotten how to feel compassion for others. She had weathered the lack of compassion from all sides, even in her own home.

And during that time, she began to see, hear, and feel changes in some of the people. She read it first, the guilt over how she was being treated. That had given her hope. She began to implore to peoples' conscience, to their reasoning, to their humanity. They answered her.

She saw it in her co-workers, felt their embraces once again. She had challenged them to look inside themselves, and they had bravely done that. Some had apologized, in their own way. Others wanted to, she could tell, but they were afraid. How sad to be afraid of their own knowledge of what is right!

These were the ideas and restrictions she knew were wrong. The word had been used to gain control over these people. In their defense, she knew that most of them had wanted to do what their faith required and had listened to their leaders in blind faith. It is an easy thing to be misled over time. She was not without fault either. Did not want to cause any unjust suffering, but she knew that she had unintentionally hurt her sisters and some of her brothers.

She was not the only person to hit a brick wall in learning. Not the only person to lose her job over it. To suffer injustices. But her learning was unique. The uniqueness brought attention to her and to others whose lives had been negatively altered by the illegal and horrific use of control by means of the word.

Her faults, some events beyond her control for medical reasons, and she did not know what else, had all been spread, played, shown to anyone who wanted to watch or listen. Much of the torture and torment meant to drive her down was on public display. Many had watched, listened through the worst of it. They knew the worst she could ever be. Now they would see her grow.

In the hospital, she had debated whether or not to hide in a cave. But then anyone who thought that no one could rise above or overcome would never know there could be a victory for the fallen. She wanted to show everyone that one could be enlightened and not have a perfect life. Her confusion, her decisions were problems that others also faced. She wanted them to know they were not alone. There was nothing wrong with them if they were not perfect.

Unchanged needs: bills to be paid, friendship, spiritual fulfillment, a full cupboard, sex. Enlightenment did not make those needs disappear. But how hopeful could anyone be by someone who was put down and did not rise up? She was able to get through many difficult times in her life because she knew of others who had gotten through obstacles. If she could make a difference for even one person, then she would do it.

Being enlightened did not change who she was, did not change her problems, but it made her a better person and better able to think through and deal with her problems. A lot of people had no other life to return to, or they had less than they had before they were beaten down. There was another way, confusing and imperfect at times, but there was a way. If people, even her daughter and son knew of her fight, of her path to overcome, then they might be aware of the dangers of simply following the herd, of going along. They had to know that there was a moral trade-off. If she disappeared, did not let them see her as she always had, they might think she sold out. That was never going to happen.

Her heart and soul went out to him and his family. The soldier was a real hero, as were his comrades. As were the POW's she had watched daily during the Iraq invasion under Bush. She knew only a sliver of their fear. Admired them so much more than ever.

What could she or any other American do? Besides pray or send thoughts. Whatever feelings people had on the war on terrorism, she wanted to remember, to encourage others to remember that the men and women in uniform were fighting for the freedoms they all enjoyed, their way of life. War was not a game for them.

For all anyone knew, the soldier was alone among the enemy. Before, she had doubted the power of collective prayers or thoughts. That part of her thinking had changed forever. So she sent her thoughts and prayers now to him, to his family, to his girlfriend and friends.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

It was no wonder that she stayed confused. The ones who knew her best thought they knew what was best for her. Had she not always come through the hard stuff? Sometimes she did need help, but not for knowing what she wanted. Or didn't want. Her friend Kenni thought that if she did not search for clues, she would be alright. But the clues were coming at her from every direction. The rest of the world was determined she learn. And she did, but not the way any of them ever thought she would. What she learned...

One of the most unfair aspects was that they interfered with her decision to leave her husband. They did not live with Bill. Had no right to judge her. In retrospect, she realized several of the women had perceived her as a threat.
I don't backstab my sisters. Ever. Most of them learned that, but by then it was too late. They had no idea that she had uncovered military and government secrets, business world activities they would never imagine, and the blackmail right over their heads. They could not have saved her if they wanted to. That's why all of them were surprised when her ambulance ride turned into something else. It was not what usually happened to new members. While there, she knew she had to learn fast - and by listening. Listening was the hardest way for her to learn. Most conversations seemed mundane to her, and she was skilled at thinking of other things while someone else was speaking to her. Most of the time.

Sometimes people were impossible to ignore. Like the guest motivational speaker who visited their company not long before she made her break. From the moment the woman began her presentation, she knew this was part of the plan to initiate her. Anger, fear, frustration at her co-workers. How was it all possible that people in all of these different places, even different states, were connected? She could not bear to watch the slide show. Wrote in her notebook instead. Tried not to listen, but she heard most of it. Fighting back the tears was the hardest part, but she was not about to let them see her cry if she could help it.

Her father listened to the phone calls, watched her computer screen from his office. She figured this out by the things he said, the things he wrote. What she could not figure out was how she kept making mistakes. Something she was doing made him irritated, bordering on angry. Wow, he was very good at intimidating her, prepping her for the interrogation. Guess this had been part of his job for god knows how long. She began to notice that he did not like it when she had any communication with Tom. Finally, she asked him was it not okay for her to talk to Tom. He did not answer. She told him, "You know, 23 years is a long time. It just doesn't go away like that." He disappeared out the back door and returned a few minutes later with garden shears. The dog walked past them. "I'm going to neuter him," he said, looking right at her.

No rest among the restless,

No sleep, no peace,
Adapted, it seems, for nought
as the minstrel changes his tune mid-song.
A salmon forever swims against the current
to live naturally,

3 Top Ten Lists, July 18, 2009

Things that are funny:

1. Naked pictures.
2. Embarrassing moments.
3. Sex.
4. Someone else getting caught and/or in trouble.
5. Writing whatever fictional stuff I want. What can anyone do? Theirs is, also, yes?
6. Running from the government - into the arms of the government - and then from the government - back into the arms of the government. I crossed state lines 5 times (4 different states). I think that made me a federal outlaw*! Cool!
7. Pranks that don't hurt anyone.
8. Pissing off my former employers.
9. A lot of the people I've met, online and in person.
10. Being chased by planes, motorcycles, and automobiles - and giving them the slip.

*An "outlaw" is not always the bad guy. In my case, I may not have been the good guy, but the bad guys were really bad!

Things that are not funny:

1. Side effects from bad medicine and lack of sleep.
2. Being framed.
3. Being locked up and forced to take bad medicine.
4. Pissing off the government.
5. Pissing off wealthy people.
6. Finding out there are a lot more evil people in the world than I thought there were (not limited to government and wealthy).*
7. Being unemployed.
8. Being abused.
9. Pranks that hurt people.
10. Discrimination against anyone - race, sex, orientation, religion**, enlightenment, etc.

**I have only implied so far, but I have been holding back. Can't give it up all at once, can I?
*Most everyone wealthy or in the government is NOT evil. Only a few. But I don't dare tell you which ones!

Things I can brag about:

1. I pissed off the government and some very wealthy people.
2. I made my former employers look stupid.
3. I escaped prison, physical and mental.
4. I made a lot of people chase me - in planes, motorcycles, and automobiles.
5. I'm unemployed - but I'll work before I draw unemployment at taxpayer expense. Go America!
6. I'm still crazy.
7. I have more friends.
8. I'm still thinking of ways to embarrass my former employers.
9. Some of my naked pictures were actually pretty good.
10. I'm still here.

She felt like a virgin. Bill and she had sex when she came home, but Bill had always had trouble maintaining eye contact. The deeper spiritual connection she craved was lacking. Though she seemed "loose" to some who only knew about the pictures that she never meant to be public, she was, in reality, extremely selective about who she slept with. Since she first communicated with anyone online, she had received several offers but accepted none. In ten years, she had been with only Bill, until she and Tom hooked back up a few months ago.

The time they spent together relaxed her. She never had to work hard at all communicating with him. And she trusted him with her life. Tom must have thought that his persuasive abilities led her to be with him. He could not have been more wrong. Her love for him had hardly waned over the years, in some ways growing deeper. The belief that a love lasting as long as theirs was meant to be, that is what moved her. Mistaken. The love flowed in one direction. Sure, he cared, but not like she had.

Bill did drive four hours round trip to see her for a single hour five days in a row, and he drove again a sixth day, her seventh, to carry her home. His commitment went up and down like a roller coaster, but she still hoped things would be different. Nothing was at first. Then she thought she might meet Fred for lunch. Knowing this drove Bill crazy with jealousy, and he did make some changes, tried to show her more affection. His inability, or fear, to make a spiritual connection while they were intimate was a problem that she was not getting over though. She wanted to be, in a sexual way, with someone whose eyes knew what she now knew.

Some years before, she had been in a relationship with Kurt, a computer tech guy. Kind of nerdy, but sweet. What had attracted her to him was the 'good guy' inside, the one he tried to hide from everyone, covered it with his macho facade. The tough guy image she overlooked was the side of him that made her decide to break things off - and he fooled around a lot. But when they were together, they were the only beings on the planet. He had asked her to have blind faith in him. She knew better. But their spiritual connection had been very strong, despite the fact she was in the dark.

Before her experience, her new awareness, she attributed her ability to connect with others to something within herself that she did not know how to explain. That ability had been the underlying factor in her quest for a spiritual partner. Bill was spiritually interested in her in the beginning, but he could not bring that spirituality to the bedroom. She was certain that he was interested in her now, but for some reason, he was having trouble with fully committing himself to her, and not just in bed. He was not completely committed to protecting her either. His lack of commitment was an emptiness inside her.

To be with someone who would open up, share spiritual space with her, was something that she had never had. She had come close to that, but could not completely connect as she had been unable for her lack of awareness. Until that happened, she would, in her mind, remain a virgin. There was no hurry, though, for her to rush to lose her new found state. She rather liked the feeling that she had something now that no one had ever seen, had ever known, and no one could take it from her. She felt something she hadn't felt in a very long time. She felt special.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Waterfall sunset
cascades through slats,
spills onto the walls, floorboards;
the long embrace slips quietly
into dusky mauves, goldens, violets.

First Attempt At Watercolor

Wow. Not everyone here hates me,
she was shocked that these men in the restaurant treated her with courtesy she hadn't received in months. They looked like salesmen, or businessmen, like they could have worked for her former employers. She didn't recognize them. With the economy, though, it was getting harder to find jobs with good pay and benefits. Positive attitudes could spread throughout the business world, but so could negative attitudes. She might have gotten enough information out that others were starting to think.

Just guessing, I'd assume they know people who were still ticked at all the money and perks the old ceo was given and at how the new ceo was sneaked in without a proper vote. I wonder if there will be new board members when it's time to vote again. That is not too far away. Hmm.

She jumped when the doorbell rang. Good grief! She thought about how sometimes people took revenge around here. Less than a year ago, a man bombed his attorney's office. A year or two before that incident, someone shot a sleeping woman in the head. Didn't the papers say she was staying at her father's house and that someone was most likely trying to kill him, not her?

Blocking out images of redneck mobsters, she peered through the peeky hole.
Those guys in brown always have sexy legs. She smiled.

The third guy who thought he had bagged her, he had also seemed hurt, or at least offended, when she turned him down. It was probably embarrassing that everyone at work was talking about it, emailing it to one another and to sister buildings. Probably to their friends away from work, too. She never meant for that to happen. The whole thing was still confusing and outrageous then, and she was unintentionally 'playing the game.' Trying different things to find out what would happen next.

Some of them thought I knew. Maybe. But then, I did know, only I didn't. I still thought they were kidding about the sex. Her first sound notion that the sex stuff was real came from connecting some dots: the stuff she read, the conversations - meant for her to hear - in the breakroom, and seeing the pictures and grafitti. But one event in particular brought her around to third looking to steal home.

One morning, a younger fellow, the nephew of one of her mentors, brought his uncle some lunch. Right before she entered the break room, Number 3 gave her the 'heads up.' The concerned look on her mentor's face, the conversations, everything hit her. This is not happening, she told herself. She steered clear of her co-workers for the rest of the day.

That evening, online, she emailed the ones she knew were directing this operation, and she posted a memo for everyone else to read. "Don't send me any boys." Even if this were real, and she was starting to believe it was - who knew why? - she did not want to do this. This whole experience was crazy. Back then, she thought her co-workers were crazy. Thinking back, she thinks that maybe they thought the same thing about her.

Most of them knew that I didn't know, because some of them worked very hard to teach me. Some of them had laughed and made fun of me for driving and walking all over the place trying to find 'my guy.' I don't blame them for that so much. When I found him, I didn't know how I was going to kick his ass, but I wanted to. And I knew it was more than one. That was kind of funny, ha! But the job part was definitely not funny. Neither was being made those offers when I didn't know why. And I don't even know all of the people that well.

They know so much about me, like how I run around my house naked sometimes. Wow. Some of them made fun of my stomach and my tits. Came up to me at work holding their stomachs, laughing and carrying on. At work. But I don't care about that anymore either. I guess it made them feel better about themselves. They had to know that once I knew my family and friends had seen me naked, knew all the stuff about me, that I didn't give a flip what the rest of the world thought. I even told them that. Duh.

Reckon they figured I'd make like an ostrich and stick my head in the sand. Well, I knew that my bod would still be hangin' out there, ha ha. Doesn't matter. I knew something was going to happen. Read their plans. They still thought I couldn't read. I thought my father could help me. I had so much evidence against them. I knew they didn't know about him. I had to make it down there.


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