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and the Art of Slowing it Down
November 19, 2012Posted by on
[T] didn’t only p-l-a-y the trumpet, he was a P-L-A-Y-E-R! He was young, blond & drove a BMW crotch rocket. We spent weekends together in NY or DC: I did the cooking while he lounged with his feet up?!
Once, he tried to get me to take my clothes off in a hot tub on the roof of his low-rise apartment building in the middle of mid town Manhattan?! Are you kidding? A thrill for him, yes, but embarrassing for ME. I have often thought that in cities like Manhattan there must be an inordinate amount of binoculars lying around. How many women he pulled that trick on before me and since? How many women went along with it??
Allow me to back track: just how “They” orchestrated keeping tabs on me was dumbfounding. Albeit the technology for tracking cellphones is available on the Internet, maybe it was as simple as that?! The gang from DC had ‘friends’ in NY. Scratch that I thought I had ‘Friends’ in NY… specifically President Clinton’s friends… ‘They’ couldn’t afford to lose track of me. I noticed “Them” posted on street corners with their ear pieces and dining next to us to eaves drop on our conversations (how did they get reservations at tables next to ours) and see who we were rubbing shoulders with. “They” wanted to know if I shared my secrets with [T] or if I just my bed…
“They” even tried to reach me once in Whole Foods on Columbus Circle. I was there doing our Easter dinner shopping when “<PrincessMarksAlot> My Valentine” rang in my ears. I have yet to report being so delusional that I heard things; I swear the voice came over the loud speaker… So I stood there frozen in the produce section wondering if “They” wanted to reveal something to me, something that “One” couldn’t reveal in DC?!
The short of it is that I thought Clinton, YES Bill Clinton, was trying to get me a message?! I thought if I went to the Customer Service counter that I’d quietly be handed a cell phone &/or directions to a safe place to get the DL (down low)… but I didn’t know who was watching. For Christ’s sake I was just thinking about making dinner.
Fear got the best of me & I didn’t follow up at the Customer Service counter… in retrospect that sounds very vain! I should have tried but my subconscious knew better, it knew I probably wouldn’t have known what to do with the disappointment. I couldn’t let my conspiracies fall apart in the grocery store?! Funny how smart our subconscious is.
But, I digress, back to [T] and me. I guess it takes one to know one? My husband tells me that I am playing games with this blog. He tells me that if I exposed my identity that I might have more followers …I need more followers to get to Hollywood?! Further, my younger sister thinks that I should reveal my identity… she thinks that it would be cathartic!
If I ever want to work again, I can’t reveal myself; people, specifically employers, just don’t understand my disease! They’ll assume the worst; they’ll think that I am moody and therefore difficult to work with… and that’s precisely why I think my story is fit for the BIG screen! I’m just an average compassionate but capable, resourceful and …impatient woman with a highly peculiar disease that some P-E-O-P-L-E need to learn more about. I don’t have mood swings (not even at that time of the month), I just go manic when my hormones are out of whack, or when it rains, and have delusions of Grandeur. And it is during those times that I need to take a break from my daily routine and collect myself. No employer would want to negotiate all the sick days that I need built into one contract!
Getting to Hollywood is less about ME and more about my wild stories – MY sensed reality. It’s ludicrous to think that just an average compassionate but capable, resourceful and …impatient woman with a highly peculiar disease was such a Red Hot commodity. (I <3 red hots, the candy that is.) But I thought that!
Scratch that: Mind you, I know that I am Bipolar but I still think that. This morning, while drafting this blog, I told my husband that Obama could get me to Hollywood. He has four more years. Wonder what mess I could get myself into in Macau to get his attention.
Note to Reader: A little birdie gave me the idea to "Edit" this "Press". I have already edited others this morning… but suffice it to say we'll just loose track of those. 4:14am MT 22 June,2013 (9)