वत्स इम्पोर्तंत तो माय Soul

Im thinking maybe Im not a true artist. Making art just for the sake of making it leaves me empty and depressed. I do not get any enjoyment out of making pretty pictures. I get even less enjoyment out of putting my feelings down on paper visually, because it ends up either being perverse or kindergarten silly, both of which I detest looking at, much less taking credit for.
What is important to me and feeds my soul, is interaction between people involving my art. Its important that my art supports me versus I support my art, in every way, emotionally and financially. Otherwise why do it. That goes against everything Ive been told growing up about what a true artist is. Weve all heard about starving artists, artists who have value only after their death, and artists who art no matter what their circumstances because their soul dictates they must or die. That does not describe me. So am I only pretending to be an artist? Im a great executioner of art but I have to get something back for it. Do I have the true soul of an artist?
All my life I have felt like a failure. I never achieved much other than I survived. I found out much later that I had a mental illness described by at least three alphabet labels. I struggled to take care of myself financially and barely made it. Menopause hit and I couldnt do it anymore. I was dead tired. I had to go on disability and finally had the time to start doing what I really wanted to do versus what I had to do to survive. My love of art was given expression. My desire was to get off disability and finally support myself through something I loved. I wasnt very good at first, but I didnt give up because I had a noble goal that I knew I could achieve. My art is now great and able to support me. But it doesnt. My house is filling up with pretty pictures, frames, and all the stuff of an artist. I would be better served with a studio, but I cant afford it. Opportunities to show my art are limited, so I drown in my art.
It comes down to me needing to feel good about myself by paying my way in life like normal people do. I want to feel good about myself for finally taking care of myself doing what is uniquely me but I must receive something back in return.

माय आईडिया तो स्टार्ट Equality

Wouldnt it be nice if all people could have ownership of property? We artists, who are traditionally thought of as "starving", as well as anyone who has a smallish income? Impossible? I think about this alot and Ive been fine tuning my plan in my head for some time now.
The answer is in renting a space to live. Most people rent when they cant afford to buy. What if everyones rent went to pay a mortgage, the mortgage you are helping to pay when you rent, that someone else possesses. Or if that landlord owns property free and clear, the renter would be purchasing a portion. This means it would be illegal for any landlord (primary mortgage holder) to rent or lease his personal or business space to anyone who pays to live there, without giving part ownership of the property. The renter would own exactly what portion of the mortgage he paid. The equity would be saleable and inheritable. It couldnt be used as collateral, as that might jebreoadize everyone elses ownership. Any adult that contributes to any household in any way would own a percentage. There could be a 3 month grace period for guests and it would be illegal to abuse this status, such as have a never ending flow of new 3-month-guests.
This would start equalizing the unfair distribution of wealth in a fairly short time. It would give pride of place to those who feel downtrodden, to those who have worked hard and just cant seem to get ahead, or who are sick and/or disabled. The disabled never will have the chance to have anything of value because in most cases they get disability, and that is usually limited to owning only up to $2,000.
The argument to this is, "but the disabled dont work, why should they own anything?". Because in some cases they did work up until they became disabled. And others have been disabled all their lives and would give anything to be able to keep a job. Call it what you want. Socialism, communism, I dont care. What it is is fair!!!!! What it is is caring for others other than just ourselves and our family. We are a human family, and until we start actng as such, the world will never improve, thrive, or even exist for all of us as it remains today! We will all lose if we dont start opening up our hearts, stop hoarding, and share. There is still room for those who want more to have more, just not in such a ridiculus lavish portion.

ग्रासिएस Life

Its not even 2 in the morning, and Im at my computer typing away. Why? Because I had an incredible dream so real, so detailed, and it was like I was being directed to write it down for its spiritual message:
I was really making bad choices in life. You could say I was a "sinner', as everyone knows a "sinner" to be. I was fumbling through my life and all of a sudden I found myself before the Overlords on high. They presented themselves as people like you and I. There were about 5 or 6. An equal amount of women and men. 3 I remember, one was an older dark skinned woman wearing a tribal sort of outfit, and another 30ish woman, caucasion, dressed in a business suit, and a hippie type man. They werent mad at me, they just knew I could do better and this was a corrective meeting. My main business was with Gracie, the businesswoman. Apparently she herself needed help in finishing her life on earth. For whatever reason she couldnt, she did not tell me, but I did know that this was another chance to make things right for myself as well as her.
She said that I would find myself in her life as her, but still retaining my consciousness. I was to be told absolutely nothing about her life except she added an interesting clue and said, that there was a little surprise waiting for me. Oh boy! a little surprise! After a whole life was a secret and I should have a little surprise? Didnt get her well meaning yet not funny statement.
I then found myself in a corner office of a business with questionable and confusing overtones. I didnt know anyone rushing at me with problems and questions. I didnt know anything other then I was now Gracie. I guessed at everything to the best of my ability and I was getting through it. I started walking around the business and it became clear to me very quickly that it was deceptive and lying to its customers. It was a mod podge of sales of strange unrelated items, to a mechanics garage. I walked in back and what was supposed to be there, didnt exist and the cars were just all sitting there not getting fixed. I knew at that point that I had to make these people accountable and build the garage to be what it was supposed to be.
It came time for me to go home after my first day at work, and I didnt know where that was. Luckily I carpooled with another person and I got to my house. That house was awful. It looked like Gracie hadnt had time to move in. It was trashy and almost empty. Another project for me in completing Gracies life for her.
As the days passed, there were many discoveries. The next super biggy one was that I was married to a soldier who was fighting in the middle east and that he was coming home in a month. The business was also his and I was going to get it in order as well as the house by the time he returned.
The next "little surprise" was that I was about 4-5 months pregnant. I think that was what Gracie was talking about. By that time I was taking these shockers in stride and just kept plodding away at my mission.
It was the night before I was to go pick up my husband at the airport the next day. But he had a surprise for me and came home in the middle of the night. As he approached the door, my consciousness became his and I experienced his entering the house that he had never seen before, through his eyes. He had a flashlight so as not to wake me and he looked around the house in awe of what I had done. He came into the bedroom, quietly undressed, and slipped into bed with me. I was laying on my side pointed away from him and he began spooning me. I awoke slowly and unafraid, as if he had been there with me for all those months. And darn, if that wasnt where the dream chose to end!
This dream was so long and convoluted. It went on even longer before it got to the part I recorded here. But it was just too confusing to write down. The important part began when I was called to meeting with the big guys. My life had no meaning before that and therefore I left it out. Even the part I did record was far more intricate and detailed, but I just didnt have the patience to write it down. It is, after all 2:47 in the morning!!!!!

अ बुक ऑफ़ इंटेरेस्ट मय्बे?

A book of interest to artists who like to paint Angels and fantasy type figures, and feel a little lacking in expertise is ANGELIC VISIONS, by Angela R. Sasser. I was killing time in Barnes and Noble and I am either compelled to the art book section or the new age section. That day I was craving an art fix. I had been thinking alot lately that I want to get more spiritual and fantasy-like in my art again. I started out that way because it was comforting to me. I could use some more of that comforting again. The universe supported me in this longing desire because it was the first book I laid eyes upon and exactly what I had been looking for. So, you can expect to see more Angels......in my artwork anyway. lol

हेल्प इवे बीन हच्केद और phished

This is to all my FB friends and family. Ive been totally blocked out of FB due to something happening, I dont know what or who. Ive been working on this for 2 days and there is nothing I can do. Ive tried everything. FB help has blocked me! Im hoping somebody will read this and have an answer. I cant get to my fan pages either. Can someone email me at huntress888@cox.net if they think they can help. I might be forced to start totally over as a new identity and lose all my friends Ive put so much time and work into. This is so totally f'd. My year has been foreclosure, bankruptsy, cancer, moving and now this. My FB friends have helped me through this and now thats gone. Ive either been hacked or phished. HELP!!!

लैटर तो अ Friend

This is a response I wrote to a friend who wanted some ideas and advice on art. I thought it would make a good blog.
"Color wouldnt be needed, just a little darker beige than the backround color. But if you want a color, lavender or violet would be nice.
What Ive found is the proper anything doesnt matter. Tooth, grade of paper, medium, or even mixing mediums that you wouldnt even think of mixing. If your paper buckles, you can still work with it and it will have a different effect. You could use salt, stamp over it, or remove bits of color. If the paper has more tooth than you want, you can paint under the pencil or over it with watercolor or acrylic. There is no limits to the combinations. This is a good way to use up stuff you have laying around the house that you would otherwise throw away. Approach it like a child would with the spirit of experimentation. They dont know what the "correct" way is. They just do it.
Your Tabby drawing is not a waste. You could highlight parts with acrylic paint or frame bits of it, the parts you really like, to make a collage or frame it as a miniature.
One way of getting yourself out of overblending is to set the alarm to go off at 1 hour (or whatever time) and stop work on your piece. It will do 2 things. It will teach you to work faster and more efficient. And it will make you stop and examine what really needs to be done after living with it for awhile.
I havent been doing anything for months because of "the big move". It probably wont happen for even a few more. When Im ready again, I will let my whimsical spirit lead me.
I like what Ive written here and I havent blogged for a long time, so you have helped me too, to write something for the blog. Its so wonderful how artists can inspire one another"!

वहत इस लाइफ?

I dont always stop enough when I feel the urge to write. I am hip deep in moving today, but Im going to break and write. This is one of my New Years resolutions.
I dont see the world like most other people. Everything is alive, and I mean everything. Animals, rocks, plants, and inanimate objects. Everything talks to me. I feel the pain of a tree removed. I feel the life and history of objects old and new as they are utilized by society. Many people found it hard to understand why I took it so hard and personally when we lost our house. It was an organism all to itself, a living entity. It was a death. I would not relate with this being anymore. And all the sub species of life risked being killed by one less conscious. Nothing would be repurposed, or respected, or handled in any sort of intelligent way. I let it go and all I see now is my future and the excitement that comes with making new friends and loving new and different things. Things come and go easily, this is true. But each "thing" will never be the same as the last. The universe is moving and evolving. Every molecule that comes in consciousness of our mind is affected and changed. Life itself is changed for everyone, past, present, and future. That is what the "Now" is. We will come to realize that there is no time continuum. Im really getting off track here with what I was wanting to say, or am I?
How does this relate to art? What better way to imbue an object with purpose intent, and energy than to create a piece of art. Art conveys to others the consciousness and message of the artist. Everyone is affected by viewing it whether they be sensitive or not. The ones viewing it will pass ithat energy along to everyone they come in contact with, and so on.
The sensitive ones will be more aware than the others, but everyone will be affected. Thats why Im bothered by gross and obscene art. Is this really what the artist wants to put into the environment? Ask yourself, would I want my Mother, my daughter, my brother to see this? How would I have felt viewing this when I was four? Confused maybe, even frightened? There is a positive and a negative. Positive energy promotes improvement, evolving. Negative energy tears down, deconstructs, devolves.
So what is life? Its what you make it.

वहत इस रियल Value

Im up at 2:00 in the morning watching Hoarders on A&E. It holds my fascination like no other show on TV. Some people would call me a hoarder and maybe to some degree I am. I own that. I understand it and all its complicated reasons and problems. I am also saying that humans in general are hoarders. The difference between hoarders and rich people is that the rich can afford the space to maintain their hoarding, space to walk, room to breathe, and when theres is a problem, they can hire some one to fix it, exterminate it, clean it, remove it. People with less money dont have it so easy if they collect. They do not have the resources to maintain it. They tend not to have friends or family in which they share their environment. Affluent people maintain showcases to impress others even more than their selves. For people with less, it becomes a vicious circle into an abyss in which eventually they cannot dig themselves out of it. Their life becomes even more alienated because of shame, fear, and self loathing. Most of these people have mental health issues and could benefit from therapy and/or medication.
This said, maybe we should all look at what is truly valuable. It goes without saying that air, sun, earth, water, and each other are things no one can live without on earth. We dont value these things at all. We pollute the air, we blot out the sun, we rape the earth, we poison the water, and we abuse, use, and kill one another.
That said, lets look at what value really is. Its whatever value we assign to it. Other than the above mentioned, we dont need anything else. We dont need stuff to live. We need only the most basic food, shelter and clothing to survive. With everything else the value only exists in our minds and the worth we assign to it. Diamonds are rocks that are pretty ugly in their natural state. They are plentiful enough for everyone to have a pretty shiney. But somehow they have become precious, like gold. A few selfish greedy men control all the diamonds. When there are too many diamonds in the market and they become affordable to more people, these greedy men hoard the diamonds to make them expensive again. They spend millions on marketing campaigns to put the idea of value in our minds. Women feel unloved if they dont have a diamond and its size is the measure of how much the gifter loves them. Diamonds are pretty rocks along with other pretty rocks that exist in nature. The diamond has been made king. Millions of people suffer, are abused and even killed because of these diamonds. This doesnt seem to matter to most people because its not them that is negatively affected.
For hoarders, there is value in everything. Nothing gets thrown away because everything is valuable. Some of the things most people would not see as valuable like old food, newspapers, clothes, etc. I would say that there is more value in things than most people see. Old furniture, clothing, plants, animals, fresh food, and yet we throw these things away by the truckload. This stuff is hauled away to big holes in the ground so we dont have to deal with it anymore. We created the stuff, why do we not value it? Why is it wrong to keep something and just to fix it when it breaks? Do we realize that we will eventually choke and drown in our refuse? Where and when will it stop?
Ill tell you what I value and collect. Pretty or interesting rocks. Old furniture that can be fixed. Items from my childhood that brings me back good feelings. Items from my Grandmas life and time that remind me of our love. Things I can use in my art to creatively repurpose a new creation. Plants that were tossed because they were neglected and werent pretty anymore, animals that no one else cares about. This is just a small list of what I value and there is a reason for everything that I have. I walk the fine line between collecting and hoarding. I grew up with a hoarder, a true hoarder, as bad as it gets. I guess you could say its in my DNA or psychie. I am watchful of my habits and what I value. It gets out of hand sometimes but is dealt with when it becomes a problem. I have had therapy and am on medication which helps me keep a grip on reality. I want family and friends to visit, I am proud of my acquisitions, and I dont want to prevent anyone else from living a healthy life, including myself. I am conscious of my environment and see so clearly those who are not.
I could go on and on about this because I see it as so important for us and the planet. A drop of water will eventually find its way back to the ocean. There are shockwaves in everything everyone of us does. Lets become conscious of our world!

अल यू नीद इस Love

All you need is love. Alot of people will say thats nonsense, that in the real world you need money and stuff to survive. I have proof that indeed, all you need is love. I had a terrible childhood, and yet the best and most precious memories I will always cherish in my heart are the few brief times I stayed on my Grandpa and Grandmas farm in Prentice, Northern Wiscosin. They were my step grandparents, parents to my step dad. The Ericksons, and they were Swedish. If you could know how they lived, you would say that no one comes any poorer than that. And you would be right. They had "nothing". There was no indoor plumbing, no bathroom, and no refrigerator. Why did I want to stay there? Because they were the richest people I knew in the commodity of love and acceptance. I was not their step child, like everyone else introduced me as. I was their child, through and through, no different from any other. In fact Grandma favored me over all the other kids, because I was a girl. Her only girl. It was the first time and only time I felt special just because I was female. I was 6, but I still remember her running to me and throwing her waiting loving arms around me and holding me so tight when we first met. Yes I was overwelmed, but I sure did love it, and her, instantly.
Life on the farm was filled with adventure and activity laden days. Never was I bored. There was no TV, no radio. If I couldnt find something to do, Grandma would involve me in her chores, making it age appropriate for me, or do something with me that I chose. She made copious amounts of bread and I would always had my little tins that I would fill. I made all sorts of fancy shapes. She showed me I was important and that I could accomplish something. During night time milking, I would hang out in the barn with the many cats and dogs. It was warm and cozy in there on cold Wisconsin days. It was enough for me to just sit and watch the agrarian life taking place in front of me. I also would go everyday with my handsome tall uncle named Freddie, to get the cows. It was my favorite thing to do of all. We had to find them, then rustle them up, get them moving in the direction of the barn. There was a river we had to cross holding on to a pulley rope and glide across, with me on my uncles shoulders. He would also take me for bike rides on the handlebars of an old bike. He was studying to be a teacher and he always had fun art projects for me to do. I made my first and only encaustic with him using old crayons. There was never any inpropriety, no molestation. I was respected there as an equal human being with rights and feelings. Grandma Esther was very spiritual and took me to church, enrolled me in Sunday school. I still remember the wonderful smell of thousands of broken crayons in a big box that we used during Sunday school to color our bible lessons. My only same age playmate was a Grandchild of Grandmas. He lived just a few farms over and his name was Danny. We were best friends and we thought up endless things to do. We would make "castles in snow, large castles that had rooms, height, stairs, tunnels. There was plenty of snow for that. There was a playhouse at Dannys, where we would play house. Gender was not an issue. Nothing was considered girly, sissy, or tomboyish. It was just us playing out our childish fantasies and It was wonderful.
I will share now a very painful aspect of my childhood. I was a bedwetter. It was a constant source of agony and humiliation for me, because most every adult in my life treated it with disgust. I feel this is important to the story because Grandma Esther treated me as if there was nothing at all wrong with me. I even slept with her when I was there. She had no qualms about that. She just dutifully changed the linens every morning, never a complaint or snide remark, much less a spanking like I was used to. That was purely magical to me. I viewed her as my angel on earth, the one and only person who truly loved me and who was healthy for me to be around. I know that if I had been allowed to grow up there, life for me would have been so different. My own Mother made fun of Esther and detested going anywhere near that hovel. I really hated her for that. Everytime I had to go back home, my heart just broke and I have never felt a pain so bad as that. No, there was nothing there,..... except love.

आर्टिस्ट तो Artist

I wanted to write about how artists inspire other artists. My choice is singer musicians, in particular the Moody Blues. They were IT and everything else to me. The first album I ever bought was Days Of Future Passed and I still have it memorized in my mind. This "affair" began in 1972 and I was 18. It became the soundtrack of the show known as "my emotional life". I was happy, Id listen to them and I became ecstatic. I was hurt and I saw reason in it. I was depressed and I found encouragement. I made a mix tape of all my favorites and wore it out. It wasnt rock music to me, it was hymnns. When I sang along, I sang to God and whatever else was out there and I knew in my heart that I was heard, maybe even answered. I believe the angels gather round a person singing what they love.
Just now Celine Dion is playing and shes singing the theme song from Titanic. That song could crumble the hardest of hearts and I personally can not listen to it with at least one tear welling up in my eye.
When I was about 26, I was meditating and I went off somewhere beautiful. I heard the most extraordinary choir of voices singing hallelujah over and over. Theres no way on earth to have duplicated what I had heard or even remember it for that matter. Humans can come somewhat close to making that sound, but it just doesnt translate into this dimension. What was inspiring was to know such beauty exists somewhere and musicians try to reach that chord without even realizing it. Its in humans to reach and strive for what they remember deep down in their soul.
Thats why artists are so special in this world. Can you imagine a world totally devoid of art? I wouldnt want to live here. Artists are sensitive souls who are here to inspire the rest of us, to show us there is more than what our five senses can perceive. Art is reaching into another dimension and bringing it into this world for everyone to share.

Moving

I have created another blog dedicated to personal emotional issues. My intention for Gardener Park was to be strictly for writing about my life as an artist living with bi poler disorder and depression. It has come too a point where nothing is being written about art. So I started The Purple Poodle to write about things far more personal. To those who follow this blog, you are welcome to read the other one as well.

थे मार्क ऑफ़ थे Beast

Interesting, Ive been thinking, because Ive been watching the history channel about the last days. Ive tried to make sense of this ever since I can remember. What is the mark of the beast? Could it possibly be three numbers that have become all important in our modern life? Our credit score? Its becoming very hard to buy or sell without the right number. No one in commerce wants to deal with you if you have the wrong number. Interesting also that there are three credit bureaus. This is scary stuff and Im seeing this devastation taking place in my life right now. Are we reduced to numbers now? Do human circumstances figure into any financial decisions anymore?

Let Me Enjoy

God, please let me rest. Please, no more pain.

Im The instrument Of Peace?

Once again, reading a book has spurred me on to blog out of sheer anger. To stay peaceful, I am to say "Lord let me be the instrument of thy peace". If I am not feeling peaceful, just remove myself from the problem. I am totally in charge of my peace. No one else can upset me if I dont let them.
Sometimes I have to wonder, have any of these wise ones gone through any serious shit? Theres nothing I would love to do more than remove myself. Tell me, how do I do that? Im working very hard to save my ass, and everytime I make any kind of move at all, a stick is shoved up said ass. Yeah I want to go. Let me out.
I am the master of my peace. I AM? Tell that to the bank Aurora, whos going to hunt me down till the day i die. What is it about short sale you dont understand Aurora? Let me go, stay out of my business, Im trying to move on, like the law says is my right. Is this a free country? No amount of money coming to me is mine, Aurora wants it. I cant accept money or buy a trailor because they have their hands in my pocket. The banks gave us this bad loan, it was totally their fault, now they want me to pay for their stupidity and greed. I understand how people are pushed to kill themselves because you cant get out, ever.
I finally got OK with losing my precious home and found an alternative, nothing that I would have chosen if I had a real chance, but it was going to be home. There are so many hurdles to such a simple thing as buying a trailor, paying very low lot rent, and living in peace in a retirement community. Timelines and deadlines and pay outs and invoices due and no dogs allowed and no living allowed and your credit is bad and you owe $50,000 and repossession looming and bird is getting sick and Marc is getting sick and Im getting sick and appointments, and calls, and getting rid of my artwork and the other car will never work again and people are stupid and no one knows the law about service dogs.....etc. Well you know what? On the last one, Im gonna sue your ass. Because I just cant take it anymore.The ignorant bastards of the world need a good ass whoopin. Just give me one more reason to scream and I will come down on you like a mad wet ass whooped bat out of hell.
Keep my inner peace. Tell that to all the vermin around me. Im not accepting that this is my fault.

I See Things Different

I see things different and I feel it from the bottom of my soul. It is so different from what most other human beings believe. Ive always been that way and have always swam upstream. I tried to fit in and see the logic in the worlds thinking, but just cannot justify it with my brain. Doesnt make sense, doesnt compute. Leaves me feeling tainted and a liar for going along with popular thought. Most people reading this would not agree with what I have to say for obvious reasons. Im going to say what I believe.
Rent should be illegal. Everyone should own there little piece of the world. No one has the right to prey upon those less fortunate to pad there own bank account or to pay there mortgage for them. It takes ownership and any hope of ownership away from those who are struggling to own there little piece of the world, which is everyones right no matter what. We are all citizens of planet earth and should partake of it equally. Those who wish not to work as hard would have less land than those who "toil" very hard. And by work I mean WORK, great physical expenditure. This doesnt mean paying someone else to do it for you because you have more than them. It doesnt mean investing, borrowing, stealing, conning those with less cunning and drive to have more. No more preying upon those who have less, just to take even more from them, by those who have more or alot more, to acquire even more. No more growing profits each quarter because where does that end? It ends by sucking the last buck out of the have nots. Thats the only way you increase profits every year. And no more symbolic giving to "charities". There wouldnt be a need for charities. It is not enough to give a little to some anonymous cause by those that have so much in comparison to what they give.
Back to rent, are you seeing my logic? For travelers there needs to be rent, for a room, for a night or beyond, until they have achieved what they have traveled for.
So how strange and wrong am I? Lets hear it. I want to hear how that would never work, and how thats communism, and how crazy I am. Where does this come from? It comes from caring about those that are not considered mine, in my circle or family, or from someone that will give me something in return for any good I do. I see, I care, I feel, I love, and I have a conscience. It talks loud to me, it is deafening and I cant not listen.

Gypsy Without A Clan

A gypsy without a clan is a lost person without a plan. Yes, thats me. If one doesnt have a supportive family, they have nothing. It is the sole determinator of wealth. A wild cannon, a balloon without a tether, a hole without a mole. Empty and unfullfilled, unloved and purposeless.
I have memories of a past life as a gypsy. The familial ties were strong and never to be broken. Only death would take away the body but still the spirit would remain. Even in death. My soul remembers this and I cant believe theres no one looking for me, desperately wanting to bring me home again. This whole life I had no family. Long ago what was family was familys, equally shared. It was made for all, shared by all, and inherited in death. A continuity of a line that began in the beginning and continues for all time.
Thats why to break this is a fate worse than death. Thats what I did. I ran away. It was over a disagreement of beliefs. Somewhere in there, there was a strong male beckoning me to leave. My new heart overtook my eternal heart and I was lost. They searched and searched. I ran and hid. It ended badly, tragically. There is still a hole in my heart and Im wondering where my family is. Why did they stop looking for me, why did they stop loving me.
A soul can own the whole world, but without your clan you are empty and without purpose, unable to ever be truly happy. I had it and I threw it away. Now karma is giving me a giant whack over the head. This life has been a life of constant movement, like a gypsy, but no family. I moved alone, afraid and unsure. No one to always be there no matter what. No one to raise me from childhood and there will be no one to hold my hand when its time to pass over. I have to wonder who will be on the other side to collect me. I can only think of one person and I havent seen hide nor hair of her since she crossed over, so she might not be there for me. Came in alone, will leave alone.
You cant make family love you. That love bond is either there unquestioned or forever missing. No one came looking for me. They did not wonder what happened to me. They have no idea the hell Ive been through, did not try to save me from that. They did not care whether I was dead or alive. They didnt think I had anything valuable to give and they shared nothing with me. These are hard words and I will accept the fallout. You cant lose something you never had to begin with.

My Letter To David Horowitz Published On Fightback.com

The Reality of The Housing Crisis: Real People, Real Victims

October 15, 2010

I received the following letter from a woman with no other options in regards to managing and/or selling her properties. I find it worthwhile to show my Fight Back! Readers the sad realities of what happens when things do not go as we wish they would:

Thank you for your offer of help. Unfortunately it may be too late. Its now being offered as a short sale. We got a really bad deal when we bought. First there was a bait and switch, then we were talked into more than we wanted to spend, then they gave us an interest only loan with no need to verify income. We would not have qualified otherwise. Then in 5 years it would go to a variable rate. We felt Ok about this because we owned some property, and were receiving rental income. We’re co-owner in a multi million dollar warehouse and it was for sale. The market immediately went bad, lost the tenents, lost the buyers. We then couldnt pay mortgage as Michael lost his job and Im disabled. Now the bank is trying to attach the warehouse in the future when it sells. So we will not only lose our house, but also the warehouse sale money and have no house to show for it. Our house is worth half of what we paid for it, what we wanted to pay in the beginning. The people buying it will get it for half. We put at least $100,000 into it and have no equity. They pretended they were going to work with us on the Obama plan and then changed their minds after frustrating delays that you would not believe. Ive been to the point of feeling suicidal. Im 57 and it was my very first house in my whole life. Its all I ever wanted all my life and now it looks like our financial future is ruined with no chance of ever buying another home. There is actually even more to this story, but I wont bore you. Ive been praying for an angel to help. Ive even thought I would like to try to sue but others say just let it go. Im so upset, I cant let it go. If theres anything you think you could help us with at this late date please let me know. I believe in miracles.

Thank you,

“Ellen”

David Horowitz printed my letter to him because it represents the nightmare so many Americans are going through right now with no recourse. You can read it on Fightback.com and leave a comment if you wish.

Dont Poke The Tiger

The tiger being me. Because if it happens to be one of my nuclear buttons, I might say or do anything. Im not proud of that. And yes I think its wrong. Im working on it. Im a Sag., aries, aries, sag., sag., year of the snake, full blooded German spitfire who has a giant ax to grind.
Poor little Zahra who was being brutalized by her stepmother, survived bone cancer, lost a leg and her hearing. If I was her neighbor or teacher, she might still be alive. I just cant stand by and watch something so wrong continue. I cant keep my mouth shut either, or maybe I dont want to. We cant always be all sweetness and light. Anger has a place and serves a purpose in this world.

Family

What is the saying, "feeling like the red-headed step child"? Or, "the black sheep of the family". Or, "like a leper". Or, "shes just like her father". Or, "shes never going to amount to anything". Or, "do we have to invite her"? wah wah! Or, "shes just lazy, is just like her father, and she'll never change". This is what family is to me. This is what they think of me. And "they" will never change!
I am the daughter of a mother who couldnt/wouldnt love, and who died in 1963. I am also the daughter of a father who is mentally ill with the worst case of compulsive disorder (hoarding) Ive ever known, along with severe paranoia. He doesnt know how to love, he doesnt know what love is, and he never has. To my family, I am them, and they are me. Ive never been an individual who deserved attention or love just for my own sake. I have never been seen as a separate entity deserving of a chance to make my own way. I have never been welcomed to any family gathering because they love me. It was because it was the right thing to do and Christian. And then after awhile it was the thing no one wanted to do.
"Poor little Jane" still rings in my head. No wonder I wanted to change my name. I wanted a new identity, a fresh start. I wanted to reinvent myself from the stinky mess that was once me. And now I wish I could go back to something that really was never there in the first place. The only reason I knew it existed in my world is because everybody else had what I wanted. I observed it in other families, I saw it in my own family, but it was NEVER for me. I guess that makes me selfish, hah? Self asorbed, childish, needy, a winer. According to them, I am. I know however I am not any of those things and am tired to death of being thought of in that way. If you (family) cant think of me and see me for what I truly am, then dont think of me at all. Its what you have not been doing anyway, so it should be no problem.

See The Baby

Ive been thinking alot about this lately. Why are abused children so hated and misunderstood? I know youre going, "what"? "No body does that", right? Every time people judge others, take time to think about where they may have came from. That person was once an innocent child left in the hands of adults who were supposed to love and guide them correctly in life. Not everyone is so lucky. For some, its an accomplishment that they simply survived. Others were led to suicide and still others to abuse of others and even murder. They should know better, right? To someone who cant understand their upbringing this reasoning makes sense. It makes sense to me too, even though I was one of those kids. But many of the abused ones chose another path as I did. They learned something from it and was able to deal with the overwhelming anger and bitterness from their childhood. To those I say, Bless You, for you have truly learned what you came here for.
I would also say to those who were not strong enough or far too damaged to correct their life, I understand. I understand the relentless anger. I understand the bitterness that gnaws away at your soul. I understand the sick joy that is felt when perpetrating upon another, that which you went through when you were too young to process, in order to somehow try to reconcile what happened to you. You were surviving the best way you knew how. How can we judge that person because inside they are still that hurt child, never able to grow up, never able to let go of the pain. Society makes it worse for seeing a devil and not wondering where the child went to. We should try to learn everyones story, even the worst of the worst. Ours is not to condone but to look, see, and understand. Yes, criminals must be put away and punished but we can still understand why it happened. Whats the purpose of this? To prevent it from happening over and over again. We can stop it now. Dont stand around and look the other way when children and women are being abused. If you think it doesnt affect you, you are wrong. It affects society as a whole. You and your children and their children live in this society, and sooner or later will cross the path of a damaged child/adult and may God help you.
I have to add this caveat. I believe there is also evil and I believe it does incarnate in certain individuals. You can tell by what was offered that child and what it did with those gifts. Some people come from wonderful homes with loving parents and still choose to go bad. I cant justify what they do because that doesnt even make sense to me. I dont know why. And dont discount the mentally ill, who through no fault of their own entered into a body that just didnt work right. There are so many degrees of cause that it boggles the mind.
My point is, dont be so quick to think you know it all. There are many extenuating circumstances to everyones life and you are doing them a disservice by not getting to thier story. The moccasin analogy applies here.