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Archive for the ‘Nostalgia’ Category

THe Newest Tiara

First things first. The spammers. They’re getting smarter. Or dumber. I don’t know which one it is. They are leaving heart-felt comments that look as though they read and understood the post, but when you get to their info, they’re like “Super Sluttty Grrrrls just outta high school”. Um, fuck off. This is a complex family friendly site. So I delete the comments. They never come through. If you don’t have a site, just use IntenseDebate’s default settings. Unless you’re my harasser and you have something to hide, which is pointless, also, because I’ve already got your new internet handle, website, and I know the next nineteen year old internet star you’re ripping off. It’s only been in my own good faith that I haven’t turned everything over to her. But the instant I read on her blog or she tells me you’ve asked her for money and presents, guess what? It’s all going to her. Archives of your page since 2000. I’ve saved everything.

On to some better news, I have a new tiara. It’s the first one I have gotten with stones of different colours. Isn’t it beautiful?


It’s All In The Game

I’m still upset that I did not get to go to Australia with Nick (or Dennis, or Jerry or whatever his band is naming him now). It was something I was greatly looking forward to, not the filming, although I had been stocking up on Artisan Make Up for nearly a year so I could be a part of the filming, but to being alone with him on a mini vacation. I remember all the fun we had the last time we went. It was what solidified in my mind that Nick was the one for me. When I expressed this to him this morning, his only solution was that I tell my doctor from now on when there is somewhere I really want to go. Does it even matter, though? I can’t really see any point in getting excited to go somewhere when I know that in the end I will be spending my days being reminded of what a lunatic failure I am and how much more medication I should be on, what I cannot do because of the medication and what medication (that works) that I should not be taking. It’s enough to make me scream. I take excellent notes during the visits, but they’re never really about me or what’s best for me, in my opinion. Just what the clinical manual says is best for me. That book was not written with me in mind!

Nick was much more sympathetic today. He told me that we still have the Elton John concert to look forward to in March. I had to laugh at the thought of myself putting on make up for something like that. No, I don’t think that will make much of an impression there. But I didn’t play the wet blanket. I really am looking forward to a week alone with my husband, no kids, no medication, no pushy doctors, just us and what we want to do. Plus, it’s in Las Vegas. Another place I have not been in a while.

I finished my tenth book the other day. It’s off to the publishers’ for them to do their thing to it. I feel I can have the eleventh done by early March, and the twelfth done by mid-March. How’s that for an excuse to not be writing on my blog? Nick wants me to split the site so he can write here too, since he turned his site into a thing for his band and upcoming album. I don’t know why he has to buy the domain of every one of his albums, but he does.

Lastly, I’m still cleaning up what my harasser messed up all those years ago. Two down, one to go, huh? Maybe two more to go. There were so many places that (s)he put his/her shit on the web at that I feel it will never truly go away. Just sit there and fester for the rest of the internet’s existence. That’s kind of a bad attitude, but it’s also very true. There may even be places that (s)he had that I will never find, where (s)he spouted his/her horse shit for all the world to enjoy. The good part is I’m at that place where I just don’t give a shit anymore. If some stranger stumbles upon that pile of obvious lies, and then tracks me down and has the stupidity to ask me if it’s all true, then I’m inclined to think what the rest of the world does: What a dumb fuck. Ya know?

That aside, I found it very interesting that someone parading around as my “friend” a couple of years ago was wanting me to reveal the blogspot site that was set up calling me all sorts of filthy names, with dirty accusations and out right lies against me. I caught on to that person fairly quick with their Munchausen by Internet-esque blog about a dying child, complete with sympathy and pity posts and a PayPal jar in the side bar. Naturally when called out, the person accused me of being mentally ill. Sure. I can prove that, I can scan medicine bottles, dear, but can you tell me what hospital you took your child to last night? They clearly had WiFi there because you were blogging, tweeting and dropping EC’s all night long. Not something one can do from a smartphone. So in conclusion, I think that “friend” was actually the person who set up the blogspot site years ago, just aching to see if I was who (s)he thought I was. Yep, I’m them. But by now I’ve been to so many MeetUps and so many higher up bloggers and site owners who have done TV interviews and such, can vouch for me being the woman in the photos here on my site. Or over on that fake blogspot site my wonderful “friend” set up years ago and then opted to start updating it a couple of years ago to tweek me. No, I’m not bitter, was I ever? ;)


The Lite that Has Lighted My Life

When you discover someone isn’t as sincere as they’ve always said they were, you start to wonder, and question everything they have ever told you. If you’re me, you will figure it out the hard way: At the moment that you need them, they are “busy, don’t call me” when you need confirmation where they are so that you’ll have somewhere to go then, they “forget” their own address. But I needed them now. Not in the morning, now. Not when things cool off, now. Not after the doctor’s appointment, now. Not when it’s convenient for them, now. Hey, they’ve always said that you are always welcome, right? I had no idea that the welcoming of friendship had blackout time slots like frequent flier miles. It’s only okay to want to make good on that when it’s convenient for them or when they need something from you (money, expensive items, etc). The only good thing that I can say that came out of yesterday was that the one person who really does care about me, and was not lying when he said he loved me, was able to talk me into not going ballistic and telling the Idiot Gang who someone was, before sealing my own fate. He didn’t say “don’t call me” his only reply was “Can was FT about this? I want to see you.” I want to see you. No one else has ever said anything like that to me. I have conversed with many people online before, and never has any of them asked to video chat with them before.

There I sat, tears streaming down my cheeks in the barely lit room, reading and highlighting pill books and doing bio-chemistry conversions. The master plan, so to say.  He didn’t talk about what I was doing, or why I was in the state that I was in. The sheer urgency of needing a light at the end of the tunnel told him the bad parts of the story, so he didn’t have to ask. He convinced me to call a family member in Las Vegas, or that was their last known whereabouts eleven days ago or so. So I called. A familiar but unidentified voice was on the other end of the line. I asked for my family member and there was a pause then, “Oh, he’s already left. I’m sorry.” Before the “sorry” was ever there, I had fresh tears pooling in my eyes. The sure thing, the one who would care for me no matter what, was already gone on to who knows where. I had thrown out his number before hand, so I couldn’t call him.

Feeling trapped I said my thanks and was about to hang up with the man on the other end of the line offered to take a message. “Do you have [his] number?” I asked. “Of course. But I don’t know who you are, so I can’t give it to you. It’s not my place,” he replied. I felt somewhat relieved. While I was giving the info to him via a speaker phone, my friend James was telling me things through FB to ask. Under any other circumstances, it would have been pretty funny. The guy on the phone asked me who was there, and I said I was chatting with someone through a video, and he replied, “You’re not crazy love, I can hear him too.” I had a feeling of who I had on the line, but I had to ask, and I was right. I felt a little embarrassed about calling his room, upset and thinking horrible thoughts, but I wanted out so badly. We finished up the call, he wished me well, I thanked him, and returned to my video chat. James hit the nail on the head when he asked me who it was by name. I saw his eyes light up. “Why don’t you go live with him! And bring me with you?!” Another thing that would have been funny under different circumstances.

I came to many conclusions last night and tonight. One of them is that I know who I can count on. I know who really loved me. The sad part is that I am not as smart as I thought I was. I thought I would never be taken in my another Roxanna again, and it’s very clear that I have been. She used to promise me hope of deliverance from my domestic violence situations, and then never fully able to go through with it. I didn’t need food. I didn’t need money. I needed companionship, someone to tell me that I was not alone. Someone to tell me that everything was going to be alright and that they were going to be there for me through it all. Looking back at those messages, I have to wonder if I was conversing with Roxanna again. Did she change her voice again? Where is she getting those devices? They all sound like different women, but they use the same sentence structures, same words, same phrases and life stories that she presented to me eleven and a half years ago. How does she keep fooling me off of the computer? Will she ever give up? What is so important that I have that she wants? If she just tells me, I will gladly give it to her for her to leave me alone forever. I am no longer even interested in keeping a record of her lies online anymore because I want her to leave me alone. I won’t even white knight for her future victims anymore. Discover the bitch like I did. Carry on the torch as I tried to. Just. Leave. Me. Alone!

In the mail this afternoon, I received a plane ticket to New Jersey. Do I want to go? Not especially. I can bring along the little ones, but only one carry on luggage each. The tickets are one way. There’s no turning back once I do go. I have faith in James, though. I know if I go to him, he will really be waiting for me at the Newark airport. He will really take me to his place. I won’t end up lost and wandering around alone somewhere down Texas way, with no way to get to even an enemy that I know down there. Not that they would help me, but it would be a familiar face. Maybe there’s a lesson to be learned from all of this, but I have to say that I should have learned it a long time ago when  I first caught Janna in her lies and then caught Roxanna in similar lies. But I fell for it. Maybe it’s my weakness that every human has a heart and compassion for another human being in help, though I know many who have turned a blind eye to me since childhood.

James put a light at the end of the tunnel that I was in. I didn’t know if it was a train or the sunshine, but I could see a light and that was all I wanted to see. It was all I needed. I’m happy that he gave me that hope and didn’t just push me away when I reached out for help. Even if he had not sent me any tickets anywhere, and just conversed with me last night, not shooed me away because his mind and heart were on other things, I would have been just as grateful. I’m saddened a little that I did not marry James when I had the chance, but that’s just one of a thousand regrets that I am going to have to live with.


Echos in the Sounds of Silence

There are changes around. I’m Echos now. I identify with Echos the nymph. You might know me by some other name. I removed my pages here. I just want to get back to writing and having a reason to write. Writing heals my heart.

My heart needs to heal. These days I ignore it. That isn’t good.

I’ll re-write my pages some day. Not tonight. My back is hurting, Nick won’t let me have any of my meds, I ran off the social worker who came beating on our door, and I’m still worked up over that. You don’t just come into my house and throw around your weight and tell me what I can and cannot legally have here. All the medicines I have are 100% legal prescriptions. It’s hard to abuse a skin patch or time released capsule. I threw his damned bottle of psychotrophic drugs at him as he was ducking out of the house. Shit just got real on this page, and I’d like to keep things on a down low, least my mother’s sister is reading and printing what I have written here.

With my pages gone, I have the time, the encouragement to make something better. The title card isn’t misspelled, it’s a play on words. Get it? No? Well, ok.

Nick and I chowed down on these Mardi Gras cookies from Merritt’s. I want more, but I can’t have anymore until tomorrow. Get some! They come in green, purple and yellow! And they are delicious.

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