She had been asking for something to believe in. Here it was. She wanted to know whether or not this society was willing to tolerate sickos but not the people who are disgusted by them. Would the decent lawmakers talk with her?

She added a note to remind them that she had been minding her business and left the other battles alone. This was her business, but it should be everyone's business. It is never okay to mess with peoples' kids.

She apologized to everyone else for her outburst, for she had learned that this was not how to handle things. Even situations like this one. She would have gone to the cops, but she did not know where they were. The first time she called, they had only tried to cover up stuff, even hers. There had to be others who would do the right thing.

She had solid evidence, and she was sure no one would doubt that she would lose her temper like that over speculation. She had uncovered things much stranger and less likely than an old flame whose obsession extended to her daughter.

She was sorry, and she expected no sympathy. She did expect other more important laws to be enforced. One thing that had not been explained to her was why the petty laws she had broken seemed more offensive than the serious law. She was ready to follow the rules, but only if the lawkeepers would show everyone that they were for real.

She was never against rules, and she was finally beginning to understand some of the basics. In her statement, she never tried to deny her own shortcomings. She knew mothers would understand. She hoped the fathers would understand what it was like to find out that someone had been net-stalking their baby.

She promised to listen to the authorities who she was sure had to be somewhere. The authorities who were just as concerned with the spirit as the letter of the law, who were concerned with felonies and not only misdemeanors. Her husband knew that she had not been misled by recent misstatements and that she had decided to abstain from further wars of words with her former employers. She did not want any more trouble with the law. She really needed their help. If they would.

How Not To and How To

The guy had never met the other dude but had tried to steal his girlfriend. After school, the dude and his friends jumped him from behind and beat him so bad he ended up in the hospital. The beaten teenager lay in traction for weeks. When the others got out of jail and finally went to see him, it was not to call a truce. It was to demand an apology. The laid up guy wondered why his punishment was not enough. Thought to ask why the other had reacted so violently. But he already knew the answer. Hurting him had not done anything to ease the dude's pain. He still wanted an apology.

The guy considered his blood transfusion and broken limbs. He pondered his own situation. What would happen if he went after the guys his own girlfriend had been messing around with the way this guy had come after him? Sure, he blamed those guys, though not as much as he blamed her. Some were friends of his. A couple were very close friends, and verbally trashing one of the dudes had made him feel better only briefly. The pain was still there.

He had tried to finally take off the rose-colored glasses where she was concerned. He threatened to break up, but she would cry and beg him not to, professing innocence until he reached his breaking point. Then she would claim to be a changed person. This last time, when she came to visit him in the hospital, he thought their relationship might have a shot.

He should not have messed with this dude’s chick, but at the time he thought they were both experiencing breakups. The guy knew how the other felt, though. Probably worried his chick would continue doing the same things she had been doing. Both chicks thought they were getting by with stuff. Maybe they had. But not everything.

The guy asked everyone to leave except for the one. He wasn’t sure an apology would be good enough. Yet he understood the other really needed some peace. He looked up from his bed and said “Look, I’m sorry, dude. No excuses, no double talk. I’m really sorry that I hurt you.” He was surprised to discover that he suddenly felt a lot better. He didn't know whether the other could tell, but he hoped the dude knew that he meant it.

Lluvia's Bedtime Stories 1

Some people wanted to be her friend but didn’t know how. She knew more about how they thought than they knew about how she thought. Or so she thought.

Anyway, not thrilled at the idea of opening her chest cavity just so everyone who wanted to could throw more daggers, she decided to believe that maybe they, like her, had learned some things about life.

Actually, she changed her mind. But then she realized that some of them had tried to call her. She had taken her phone off the hook. They pissed her off by telling her to mind her own business – after they had nose-dived into hers.

Still, they seemed to be willing to meet her half way. There were some things that they needed to know. Life did not wait for her to catch up. It left her behind, waited for nearly 40 years, and then viciously grabbed her and did not let go.

She decided to tell them stories.


Story #1

Imagine a boy who always made good grades but never quite fit in. He had a quirky sense of humor, but he got laughed at for not getting jokes. His joke comprehension did improve over the years. Slightly.

He remembered nearly every conversation, every gesture and facial expression, even knowing glances and exchanges between other people right in front of him. No one thought anything would come of his ability.

One day, he made a mistake. Some people were going to ruin his life. Fine. He would take them down with him. He did not know there was a joke.

By the time he figured out the joke, everyone and everything had gotten out of hand, even him. When he realized that he could understand when they spoke, every file began falling from the ceiling in his head. A raining jigsaw puzzle crashed like boulders that dropped with a cloud of debris just below an invisible surface, piecing itself together, not on the floor but in a plane that sloped in one direction but really in another direction. And then it made a sphere with all the pieces strung together inside.

And then it exploded.

He had to figure out which parts of the puzzle were actual pieces and throw out the junk that his closest friends and relatives had tossed in.

He still has trouble with jokes. And he still has his ability to remember stuff. And he knows the difference between real friends joking and fake friends joking. Sometimes. So he hoped his real friends would not leave him hanging ever again.


Story #2

There was this teenage girl. Everyone liked her. They thought she was cool. She thought everyone else was cool. She did not realize that her matter of fact statements sometimes sounded like put downs. That cost her some friends.


Story #7

A daisy grew by the sidewalk. She loved the glorious rose bushes, but they hated her. They did not see that the gardener paid them all his attention. He always walked past the daisy without a glance.


Story #8

Once there was a nearly 40 year-old ostrich who, except for the existence of a few assholes in the world, thought that life was even odder and more hysterical than she had known. She pulled her head out of the earth, shook off the dirt, and ran to shake her tail feathers with the rest of the bootiful birds.


Story #13

There once was a truly weird chick
Whose friends played a truly dumb trick
They all showed their ass (the chick, too)
None of their class
But the swine flu did not make them sick



Story #9

Once there was a group of lady co-workers who thought a jewel thief was on the loose. They got together and decided that it must be the woman who never wore jewelry. Since she did not have any, she must want theirs. When they realized she meant to purchase her own ring, they all had a big laugh. She, on one hand, was glad that she would not have to get a manicure just so her hands would look good enough for such expensive jewelry. They, on the other hand, didn’t know who should be more embarrassed: themselves for making such a fuss, or her for not having the world’s most beautiful hands. After a couple of margaritas away from work, none of them cared.


Story #3

A young man, 21, decided to find his father who he had not seen for 15 years. He had seen the name of his father’s birthplace on the hospital certificate. He got lucky. The operator gave him the number of his father’s only relative who still lived there.

For seventeen years, the young man was grateful to merely be a part of the family. He asked them for money once to fix the car heater. This was only so his children would not suffer on the six hour trip to visit them. They sent the money and told him that he did not have to pay it back. He was appreciative since the divorce had hurt his finances.

The second time he asked for help -


Story #4

Once upon a time, a naïve whore asked her pimps to explain why they kept giving her johns since she was really a long-haired seamstress. They threw her in jail.


Story #5

Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater
Had a wife, forgot to feed her
Left her in the pumpkin shell
Her magic window had lots to tell
Peter tries to make amends
In hopes his married tale won’t end


Story #6

Once there was a little girl who talked with sprites and fairies. She loved them better than anything. Some nasty trolls were jealous. They locked her in the dungeon. She escaped and set out to find her friends.


Story #11

There once was a chick with a ‘tude
Who fought like hell with a dude
When it was done
She missed the fun
But hated cafeteria food


Story #10

A girl who looked like a boy (but not quite) started playing poker. She was not old enough to play poker, but she beat everyone at the table. She did not take their money. Instead, she tried to talk to them. She had never watched the Texas Hold ‘Em tournaments on tv to know that poker players don’t talk. They told her the scariest stories. When that did not shut her up, they started smacking her. Hard. They were really bad guys disguised as gentlemen. She stopped talking to them and showed them the finger.


Story #12

There once was a son of a bloke
Who liked to play lots of jokes
He better know how to take it
Or learn real fast how to fake it
Or she’ll send him up in smoke


Story #14

They had done the worst they could do to her, and she knew that although there was some true power playing higher up, a lot of it was just stupid mind games. They did not want any more of her canned goods. (Whup Ass Brand) So now that she knew this, since they had embarrassed her more than she could ever be embarrassed again, and she them, she did not see any reason to not have fun in life.

The phone rang. It was Commander Hamilton, chief of security at the prison. Short, well dressed, very intelligent, this African American lady was full of confidence, not someone to mess around with when she started asking questions. That went for corrections officers as well as inmates. Hamilton wasted no time in quizzing her.

"Do you remember when you had visitation duty with C.O. Richards during your training two months ago?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Did you see him take any food from one of the inmate's parents."

"Yes, I did," she answered. Her stomach began to tighten, because she did remember the uncomfortable incident. Other relatives had witnessed the overly friendly exchange between Richards and the mother who brought him lunch. She had been embarrassed when one man looked her in the eye. She had even questioned Richards when he was pushing her to try some of the food.

"Did you eat any of the food?"

"No, I did not," she replied honestly.

"C.O. Richards told me that you took some food."

"He was correct. I did finally let him put some on my tray, but only to get him to shut up about me eating any of it. I never ate a bite."

"Why didn't you report C.O. Richards?"

"Because when I questioned him, he told me that he did it before and that other people did it, and that it was 'okay'."

"Do you remember signing a paper during your training that stated you would not accept any kind of gifts whatsoever from inmates or their families or friends?"

"Yes, I do."

For the first time during the exchange, Commander Hamilton hesitated.

"C.O., do you know that you are the first person I have talked to about this who has admitted that you remember signing that paper?"

"Well, of course, I remember. It was very important, and I see how I violated the terms of those rules. I understand if you have to take disciplinary action against me. I'm sorry. But if I do something, I am not going to lie about it. I'll take the consequences." And she meant it.

"I respect that, and I know you are telling the truth. Your story backed up what everyone else said about you. Did you know that this was an ongoing problem? No, you probably didn't. This is what I am going to do. Since you are the only one who admitted your own fault and accepted the responsibility for your actions, and because you were in training and looking to a superior officer for guidance, I will let you off with a warning this time. But remember that paper you signed, and do not let anything like this ever happen again. Do you understand what I am telling you, C.O.?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do. I promise to not let that happen again."

"Thank you." Commander Hamilton hung up the phone. She sat there and thought about the conversation. Thankful that the chief of security valued honor. Realized that she could not trust everyone in authority, had to think for herself. That she could not afford to make mistakes that would cost her integrity or her job.

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 Quinceañera, 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

So Bill had gotten jealous. She thought he knew that she would have her friends. All of them. Why not? He had kept up with all of his exes. And he had a string of 'would be's' a mile long. Some of them questionably young. Had already busted him for looking at pictures online, but she laughed about it right in front of him. He still wanted to have his way and not allow her any freedom. How long did he think she was going to put up with him? Well, she did not have a job - yet.

It would be different if he were supportive, but he was spending more and more time away from her. Even at home, he would do everything but talk to her. She needed her friends right now. Maybe he was trying to make her want to leave. Well, then, she was going to recoup the money she lost first.

She did not feel sorry for him. Had her, with all of her benefits, at home, while he philandered for years. All of these wasted years. She started to cry. Her first ex never made her feel like this. Not after the divorce either. And they had had some rough times.

This relationship had been a lot of work for her, but she had not wanted to put her children through a second divorce. Had she stayed in her own home, there would only be thirteen more years until it was paid for. At nearly thirty-nine, she would have to start from scratch.

Couldn't believe she had told him so much stuff about what she had learned, just for him to use it to his advantage. She was not even trying to do anything at the time, just home from the hospital. But she figured out over a week or two that he was using all the information she had told him to work his game. It had had to come out, and she thought he was being supportive by listening to her. But every day he put her down, or ignored her. Or he was rude and disrespectful. And he spent more and more time online. On his guitar forums.

She had a question but did not know who to ask. Would she ever be accepted as a 'person,' and not as a 'woman'? Or would they always have ulterior motives to try to 'catch' her?

If this were the case, as she was beginning to assume, then she could never be on a team for her benefits and not for her 'benefits.'

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.

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 ones who could help. Did they understand that this was not the same as Rockefeller having a mistress? He could afford it. The 'regular' people could not afford it, so they were using jobs as money. Could they imagine who they would be better off as in this situation in a large town set in the bible belt?

She would never settle for being his mistress. Like Tom, she was discontent with her marriage, but she was already second fiddle in her own marriage. Why would she want to be number two to Tom's wife? She was not that emotionally needy.

Right now was not the time to think of that anyway. Like most men she knew, she was able to put aside her emotional needs in order to focus on getting a job done. She had a mission - to tell others about what had happened to her, and hope that people who were in a position would stop it. Do they not realize that this pocket of power was growing into something bigger?

"Oh, god," she complained out loud. Her lover was already talking about hotels and hot tubs. One track mind. While she did thoroughly enjoy letting herself go, that was far from the most important thing she had to think about. We are wearing non-traditional emotional and mental clothing, she thought. We've reversed roles. Typically, the man is the one who can cut his losses and get on with his life, and the woman was the one who had trouble deciding between her spouse and her lover. Tom had asked her many times to never stop talking, whatever happened. She didn't want to stop talking, but she wasn't about to walk down this road again. If that meant Tom would not help her, then that was a risk she was willing to take.

Staying with her husband might not be the best option in the long run. However, making herself homeless would probably mean the end of her mission. How would she have time to try to change anything if she were working to not starve? Besides, Bill was trying. He still tried her patience, too. Ha! she laughed to herself. He is like a child. I am trying to build myself up, and he expects me to build him up, too. The old feelings, positive and negative, were coming back, albeit slowly. Like a sand castle, he washes everything away like 'that' for trying to control a situation by any means necessary, just to feel in control. He is a lot of work. Draining.

Doing without a relationship was preferable to being in one that was unfulfilling. There were plenty of other ways to spend her time. Embarrassing the hell out of the ceo and board was one of those ways. Things are too far gone to go back, she concluded, so I might as well try to stop them from amassing more power. The only way to do that is to let everyone know what they're up to. So others won't be deceived. There are still a lot of decent people in power who can put a stop to this mess.

Would they ever stop treating me like a typical woman? She knew that most of them had given themselves away to her, had given her far too many clues, because they did not take her seriously. She had the uncanny ability to think like a man and like a woman. That is why she always surprised them. Even after they learned to read her, many of them were still too macho in their thinking to accept that she was outmaneuvering them. The fact was, more than they did, she thought with her head and not with her heart or her libido. They probably still wanted for her to think 'like a woman.'

Don't know how far this is going to go. She let out a breathy half laugh and smiled to herself. Some of them realize the situation, she had figured out that much. And some of them have a warped sense of humor like mine. Only, in stereotypical guy fashion, they had thought it was a joke at some critical moments.

Tom, oh, Tom, her head falling back onto her chair, Do you know how bad you made me look just because you wanted to brag? Dumbass. How is it that you don't know me after all these years? She had learned a lot about Tom during all of this. He did not know her as well as he should have. That realization was a huge disappointment. She had carried a torch for him for so many years. To waste any more of her time even hoping for the relationship she thought they could have, that would not be smart. Would not make sense.

Bill. He had also been the typical 'woman' all the years of their marriage, seeking external fulfillment wherever he could get it. Leaving her to fill herself. She had at least been faithful, even saying 'goodbye' to Tom when she and Bill began dating. Until Bill's games were too much for her any longer. There has to be a balance that is fair for both of us.

She still did not know whether to be hurt or understanding that he had not sought other methods to enlighten her to his way of thinking. Bill would never have the fortitude that she possessed. It was so difficult for her to empathize with people who seemed to lack heart or will, yet she knew that those were the ones who needed someone like herself to show them the way.

For some reason, Bill had given up trying to help her understand him. Though she could not think of a specific example off the top of her head, she was sure that he had tried, at least early on. He did love her, and he did say, while visiting her in the hospital, that her being able to finally understand him was what he had always wanted. So, he did want the communication to be there, but he did not know how to make that happen. And he gave up. He gave up on so many things. Still gives up easily. I have to drag him along. And pick myself up by my boot straps.

Emotional fulfillment. Not the most important thing, Tom. Stopping the bad guys.