Hello Everyone,

August 2019

It's been over 3 years since I have posted any material.

Today I begin with a trilogy based off a challenge someone gave me.

Enjoy the read

~g

July 21, 2010

AndMore.....Court Part 3‏

I couldn't leave you wondering how my court day went, so here it goes.....


I got to the bus stop and 2 minutes later the skies opened and VOMITED all over my umbrella. The pressure of the water caved one side of it in. So I only had coverage on one side, the purse side of course, to keep it dry.

1 hour later I called the court (worrying the damn judge would send someone as promised) and advised that not one single bus had passed through the town. You try making a call with half an umbrella, thunder and lightening with a splash of downpour. The judge's secretary said 'take your time'. Like I had a fu_cking choice.

My sneakers were soaked, my jeans too and the right side of my body was drenched.

20 additional minutes (I am now officially late to court) a bus shows up and didn't slow down in time to prevent the near attempt of drowning me. It caused a wave of slight flooding water to bathe me. I walked up the bus stairs and glared at the man. It was the same fu_cking Mexican driver from last week. Now I was told of a better way to get to the court bypassing Purgatory bus, but the weather was against me.

I don't remember the ride, I only remember the disgusting feeling of being soaked and wet. I walk with half an umbrella and see a young Muslim girl, hiding from the rain. The heat was unbearable, how do those people wear all that fu_cking material????? I tell her if she is going to the court I will share my half umbrella, better then nothing. She took me up on my offer. Unfu_ckingbelievable. A Rican and a Muslim were walking in the rain.......makes for a joke.....

We part ways after the metal detector. Yes, it still goes off. Yes, the cop still stares. Yes, I still show up to court looking like victim myself.

I get to the court room which was in process and opened the door so that 22 jurors and court staff could glare at me. Like I gave a shit at this point.

I sat down but the walk from the door to my assigned seat left me to render a chorus from my sneakers of SQUISH SQUISH.

It is amazing that 3 weeks later and they haven't fixed the air conditioning in that court room. In addition, the law says the court must be in closed session = CLOSED DOORS. Criminals get better treatment. I swear I am developing asthma in that damn room.

Can't talk about the cases but I will say this. Humanity is going to hell in a hand basket.

It's a full day 21 cases, we don't get out till way after 4. But I am pleased since I will be taking the shuttle and not the Purgatory bus. Shuttle is broken. We stand there for an hour before they decide to put us on another shuttle - wait till those people get dropped off at the opposite direction, then take us to the mall. Where the other shuttle drops us off.

I get to the mall, it is hot as hell. I have to walk the length of the parking lot from Route 46, through the mall, out the other side, then to the length of the parking lot on that side, to take a local bus to my town. Needless to say I get home well after 7pm. It's like commuting from NY.

Both buses had working air conditioning, BARELY working that is. I get to the wooden stairs at the back of the house I live in and climb it. Still hearing the squish, these sneakers will NEVER dry. At the top of the stairs I see an intricate web, about 6 feet high.

I have been fighting with a spider, a mighty large one that insists on building a web so I can walk into it. People in the mountains, sleeping in tents don't put up with the shit I do. I rip down the web, the bastard makes a larger one. I am not so brave as to chase the spider and kill it. It's that BIG.

I go back down the stairs to see if the landlord is in. His house = his spider problem. The WHORE is not in. I go back up, hopping since I took off one wet sneaker and rammed into that web with it. Took a broom and removed the rest. Needless to say, that fu_cking spider is building another one as I type.

I hadn't eaten all day. I eat a bit of dry cereal since I know holding anything down will be impossible after this day. Did I mention no AT&T service? Oh, did I neglect to mention the lack of electricity while I was out and how long it takes to cool down this apartment? Which the sweat on my brow right now states hasn't happened?

I look skyward......Lord, does my atonement account for anything?

87 emails, 29 voice mails, 19 texts. I haven't the energy, I swear I haven't.

I live in a fu_cking swamp. I travel to Dante's Inferno. I listen to stories of Satan's minions, which apparently live and cause havoc 10 minutes away. I am sweating like someone that is in a sauna. Food disgusts me. Cable vision is taking forever to reach a signal and I just haven't the energy for any of it.

How was your fu_cking day?????

07/19/2010
~g

People Part 2

l know I have written about people and my observations, but......, today takes the cake.


I still have a nasty cough, the bright side is that whatever cold I have in my chest is finally breaking up, hence more coughing. I got to the Port Authority earlier than usual and so I was on the line before 6. The line was not too long, just long enough to make it on that bus, no seats but standing room. I was in between two men, the one in front wearing a suit.

I miss chivalry, I did not burn my bra. I want men to open doors for me, stand until I am seated and offer up their seat. But I reluctantly accept our modern days.

All was well, barely any traffic, the bus was already out of the tunnel by 6:10, which meant my butt would be home by 6:40 the latest. YEAH!!! Route 3 was ahead and the bus was just flying. The air conditioner was on high, and my face was next to the filter system which is in the middle of the bus to the overhead. As short as I am, the filter was still blasting on my forehead.

All of a sudden I felt something tickle obsessively in my throat and what began as a slight cough, turned into a maniacal one that left me barely able to breath.

No one in that bus even looked at me. The man in front was bothered of the cough and how close I was, the one behind me was leaning back into the woman behind him. You would think I developed a sudden sign on me that said Under Quarantine.

I shakily went for the bottle of water I had in my tote. The speed of the bus made it nearly impossible. In order to hold on to the barely there rails on top, I had to trap the tote between my feet. I finally managed to grab it but by this point I was breathing in, while coughing, but nothing was going outward, I was coughing inwardly and it was hurting like hell. I could feel myself begin to panic. I literally could not breath. I still for some insane reason took a swig of the water. And choked. I was pounding my own chest. No one moved or looked.

The first stop was approaching, which is literally on Route 3. The 3 men standing in front, luckily were getting off and I was pushing myself to get off the bus. Gagging and coughing out and yet struggling now to breath in. I jumped off, my tote flying and in that little island piece of concrete, began to throw up, all the water I had been sipping since leaving work. Still not breathing. I landed on my knees and slowly tried to calm down. Forcing air in like someone that struggled in the ocean to reach the top and finally getting there with no oxygen to spare.

It took some time to actually begin to breathe. After a while, I tried to get up on what now was wobbly knees. Turned around to see the bus was gone and no one was around.

STUNNED. One could literally DIE and people don't give a shit. I collected the tote and all that fell out, coughing consistently but able to breathe.

An hour or so later another bus that takes me home stopped by. Even in that time, the coughing did not subside. I chewed some gum praying I wouldn't choke on it. Closed my eyes and before I knew it I was home.

8:10. So much for getting home at a decent hour. Amazingly, I feel better now. Still coughing but not so consistently. I managed to lose my voice again after gaining it back for a short time.

People - I just struggle with my faith with humanity. People, most especially commuters are a hard lot. Emotionless unless it's anger, scrupul-less and without a care for anything but getting home.
I don't know why I got this job, what lesson in life I am to learn from it. I try to see, so that I can move on as I am a firm believer that we are trapped in situations until we learn from it. But, I can't possible learn from this, if I do, I fear becoming like them.

07/14/2010

~g

July 14, 2010

AndMore....More Jury Duty Hell

AndMore....More Jury Duty Hell


Try as I might to plan ahead, life does like to make an example out of me. I made sure to go online and get the 'latest' bus schedule and stops to and from court. Theoretically, the bus picks me up a block from my apartment (like the last time), leaves me 4 blocks from the court house. I walk 3 blocks to take the same bus home that leaves me a block from my apartment. This bus should run hourly. For arguments sake we will call this bus Purgatory to Patterson PTP for short.

After a sleepless night of coughing and a slight fever, I manage to nod off sometime after 4am. The alarm sounds at 6am and I try my best to get up. The bus time for me to board is 8:04 so I hit snooze on the alarm for an hour. I finally get up and the shower but it doesn't wake me. The 2 cups of cappucino didn't either. I get to the bus stop at 7:55am (sometimes these buses are either early or really late). It was on time. YEAH. Since I didn't have much to walk, I wore heels. PAUSE

PAUSE REASON: I am not a heels person, unless I am going from point a to b in a car and barely walking, I will opt for flats. I'm in my 40's my back and legs just can't handle it. But for some insane reason I thought to be adventurous.

END OF PAUSE: Now the heels were only about 2 inches, but with the heat the one block walk made them feel like 3 inches. I also didn't take into consideration the deceiving side walks in my town that are hilly. I board the PTP and it's only the driver and me. Once we leave Pleasantville and head into Dante's Inferno that is Patterson, the Mexicans begin to board. It is amazing that it's only Mexicans. One in particular sat next to me. I don't know what was worse - the early morning stench of drunk breath or the urine odor.

Try as I might to let him know that I needed to get up (and move the hell out of there) he snored in a dead pan sleep. The driver seemed to be in a hurry taking winding roads like they were straight. People barely completely getting on and he would just step on it. Each time watching passengers try with all their might to reach an open seat without flying into the back of the bus. Within a few stops the bus was full (could be the HOURLY time schedule). I keep thinking that my persistent cold is due to this bus, the last time I couldn't help but feel that inoculations should have been required when boarding.

I begin to pray. Truly this jury duty obligation is a religious experience.

The driver leaves me at the stop and I go to the court house, same as last time. I am told that the actual Grand Jury Duty is held 2 blocks away. It is now 8:50, my feet are swollen from both the heat and walking, my knee is throbbing; reminding me that it was at one time injured. The heat seemed to intensify with each minute and soon my hair was stuck to my face in sweat. My pants felt like a wet suit and the stench from the PTP drunk was still taking residence in my nose.

I get to the brick building, walk through the metal detector that would of course go off. I made sure not to wear anything with metal thanks to the last time. However, brassieres for my girls are best worn with metal. I get the wand treatment and the officer is just staring at me. I stare back. WTF????

I am instructed to go to the second floor, the elevator is broken. My toes and heel feel as though they were sliced, I walk up the stairs. I see a sign for ladies room and walk in, I look in the mirror and almost scream at the sight. I do my best to fix up and look around. If I had walked into an alley it would have felt cleaner. I should have purchased depends. My cough has increased to the point where my shoulder blades now hurt. Again, I have lost my voice. Good thing since I was planning on telling the Judge that they should just fence up that town, throw gas and let God sort them out.

We are sworn to secrecy on the cases so I will only speak of the fellow jurors. You can't escape them. Those people. The ones that question everything. That clearly don't listen to instruction or take notes; then decides to ask a million questions. Our task is simple. Listen to a series of cases, one at a time and vote whether to indict or not. No judging. Simply hear the case from the Prosecutor and witness/es and decide whether there is enough to say, Yes, this is something that should go to court. One Jackass in particular would question everything, the prosecutor, the witness. Even if it was simple. For example and using something non related to any case. A person takes a knife and stabs another, confesses and has bloody hands. Jackass Juror = was there any witness? Was the persons prints on the knife?

Again - our duty is just to see if there is enough to say, this is an actual crime and there is enough to indict the person. The actual trial will handle the rest.

We are in a room that I am sure was built before there was frost, ever. The air conditioner had conveniently broken down. The water delivery was not made so no coffee. And just as icing on the cake...our foreman is about 300 years old and hard of hearing.

The heat increased the swelling of my feet, the pain was now up to my thighs. I put my hair up and still felt the trickles of sweat coming down. Luckily I brought a bottle of water and drank it like a hamster to make it last.

Full day of cases = You're FU_CKED! Your staying here and you'll like it. Interesting how the court employees, prosecutor included always had something to get or do in another room that had air conditioning.

The court day finally ends. The bus stop of two weeks is no more. Literally. I have to walk SIX blocks to the bus stop. I could feel calluses growing on my feet. I stand there for 72 minutes, in the sweltering heat, in front of an adult entertainment club. I KID YOU NOT. All there is on that street is that club and across the street is a tin box Mexican restaurant, one of dozens in the six block walk.

Same driver going back, faster speed. At this point I didn't care if we hit the side rail that protected one from going over the cliff, at least it would stop my pain. I see the slumps of that town disappearing and more trees in sight. A sign that I am close to Pleasantville. A block prior to my stop I ring the bell that tells the driver to stop. He doesn't. I shuffle to the front incapable of walking with the shoes that are now welded on. STOP!!!!

He says 'Bus no stop there no more'. I say, 'It stopped there this morning to pick me up on the other side.' He said.........................'Ju lucky'. He stops 3 blocks from where I live.

I shuffle home and I swear, I literally swear as I got closer my feet began to give up. Instead of walking faster I was shuffling baby steps. I no longer could feel my toes but the pain in my heels was unbearable. The heat along with my pace slowing gave the effect of my block moving away from me. I began to sing in my head 'I think I can - I think I can', the Blue engine that could.
I don't remember going up the wooden stairs or looking for my keys, I just know that I suddenly found myself sitting on Ole Faithful (my futon) with both my feet in a bucket of ice cold water, the A/C miraculously was on and I felt my body begin to adjust.
I showered barely feeling my feet, I could have been on the stumps of my ankles for all I cared. I went back to Ole Faithful and I cried.
I hate Jury Duty. I hate that FU_CKING bus. I want all Mexicans taken to the border. I want the judge held in a cell with no A/C, water or shoes for a month and made to walk on glass. I hate this cough. I hate that I lost my voice again. I JUST FU_CKING HATE THE DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tomorrow I go back.
~g

July 11, 2010

Moon Child.....inspiration me

If I could describe myself I would use the words moon child. I love the midnight hour on a full moon night when you look up and feel as though you could touch the moon. I love that it shines light on an otherwise dark night. I love that I feel so alive when I should be in the dead of sleep. I sleep in the comfort of two drawings. One is of 3 wolves in a winter scenery, one running along, two staring out under a moonlit night, a dream catcher floating in the middle of landscape. The second drawing is on a rather large dream catcher. A lone wolf howling toward a moon. A profile of an Indian along side of that moon. Whether day or night when I look at those drawings - I am peaceful.


Most days I am quite the recluse. Reading, meditating, working, learning, studying or just contemplating. I would use the excuse of not having a car, but even then, I rarely left my humble abode. With the chaos of commuting, the constant dealing of people's characteristics, the long walks between transport, I relish the weekend to just rest. To just be. I watch some television and on Sunday's I watch the Preachers scream their lessons. The church bells ring their songs. The birds chant their tunes. I am peaceful.

Just when I think I am thoughtless, inspiration creeps in.

I think of the people in and out of my life. I think of co-workers. Friends. Family. Even of the strangers that cross my daily path. I can't help but let the watcher in me observe.

Negativity is in the air like the very air we breath. Don't believe me? Tell someone you feel this recession will just get better. Tell someone that the market will improve. Tell someone that you will get out of a rut. Tell someone you are in love. Get back to me on the most popular replies. Negative or positive?

I give classes on being positive on prayers and all that is spiritual. If I teach 100, I am lucky if 10 get it. 100 will leave feeling lifted, 90 will speak to others and deflate.

Someone sent me a video (you tube) of a man that had videoed a rainbow which looked like two rainbows side by side. You could hear him go from awe, to exhiliration, to laughing, to outright crying. 4 minutes worth of this, all the while the camera is aimed at the rainbow. I must admit, I got a kick out of it, even wanted some of that mushroom he must have eaten. But then...as I sit nursing a cold, reading, meditating, working, learning, studying or just contemplating; that I had not seen a rainbow in many many years. How if I looked at one now, I would just stare at it in awe. That man in all his glory just loved that rainbow, that double rainbow. Who could honestly say they have that much passion? For anything or anyone other then themselves?
It is so easy to say, I can't do this and I can't do that. When you won't know unless you try. To have the nerve to want something and not the nerve to believe you deserve it. To settle for less when more is just around the corner. To listen to a naysayer instead of those that are positive. To lose faith because you suffer rather then embrace faith to end it.

Yes... If I had the ability to have a night out in the moon light, surrounded by the wonderful trees, I would just bask in it. If there was a body of water near, I would dip in. I would think of nothing but the possibilities that the morning would bring. At the midnight hour I would make a mental list of all those things I deserve, believe and positively embrace. That's what the moon child in me does.

Where's your moon child?

07/11/2010
~g

July 07, 2010

Weddings without the nightmare..David Tutera taught me a thing or two about humble cake

I have written many, many AndMore’s about the nightmares of weddings. I was hesitant about writing the following in an AndMore because it was not so much an event that happened in my life, rather an awakening.


So….since I was at a seminar as an observant, I shall write this as the watcher I can be.

David Tutera comes to NY

I am a member of the Learning Annex, I love their services. They have live classes as well as online and on those many nights sleep escapes me I can do some learning. One day I notice that David Tutera, star of the My Fair Wedding on the WETV channel was going to do a seminar on how to become a successful Event Planner. It was a live class. Most of you that have followed my writing know of my disdain for weddings.

Aside from the fact that I barely see relationships last, I know many that marry because of their clock ticking, just for the production of having a wedding better than their friends. And, some people that start out nice enough and become the full blown Bridezilla shows are made of; losing friends, family relationships and their own morals in the process. Yes, I have great disdain for weddings.

A friend of mine has an event business that she has let fall to the way side. Allowing life and its turmoil’s to get in the way. This woman is vibrant, if anyone can throw a party with zeal and flair, this woman can. I wanted her to go to this seminar and let this man that I watch on TV talk about event planning and hopefully igniting her goals.

In the show I watch this man transform weddings for couples that would be able to afford to have the weddings of their dream. What I like about the show is that David also reminds them what that day is about. He goes out of his way to make sure they are not stressed or upset or turning their wedding into a mass production mess. I have sat to watch this show and cry over a woman that bought her dress online; it was too small, stained and just miserable to see. I watched him turn a ridiculous idea of medieval costume wedding into a beautiful, colorful wedding that brought people back into time without seeing swords and fake fires from a dollar store.

Yes, if anyone can remind my friend why she wanted to get into the business this man can.

The day came for the seminar, Hilton Hotel in NYC on July 7th, this would mean taking a 9:40pm 2 hour bus home to NJ afterward. I dreaded the day. Why on earth had I let her talk me into going with her?

We get to the hotel and it was like groupies! Woman and men there early and on line already, we were an hour early ourselves. We sit in the room reserved for this seminar and wait. The energy in that room could just lift ones spirit and let it soar.

He finally arrived and the room electrified. He had no special planned and robotic speech, he let the forum unfold. Brides, event planners and fans of the show asked questions and he answered without batting an eye. This man that started as a 19 year old florist turned event planner guru – just stood there with humility and spoke as if he were a friend.

He gave sound advice, shared stories and even gave hints and tips. What amazed me is that I had two pages (front and back) of notes. WTF???? I am not bride, I am not even in a relationship, I am not an event planner or even intending on being one.

Well……his advice and experience is helpful to anyone. His energy just gave me the jolt I needed to get my writing motivated. The man is a motivator and doesn’t even realize it. I got on my bus writing more and more. As I unlocked the door to my apartment at 11:30 pm, exhausted, knowing the heat in the place would be unbearable until the AC could cool it down, I knew that I would be writing, even if mentally.

Yes, I do believe I have found a way to see weddings as something other than a nightmare. If this man could just get brides to listen to his logic, Bridezilla show would be out of business. Event planners would be much more successful, knowing that ‘putting yourself out there’ will get the clients and making ‘their dreams a reality’ will expand your business but most importantly in anything you do, ‘be confident’.

Sounds good to me! If I had to eat humble pie over the years of rambling about weddings, I would make that pie a cake and that cake would be made of 2 part wisdom, 1 part experience and a whole lot of sugar and spice. I might not eat the whole thing, but a little humble cake wouldn’t hurt. Right???

07/07/2010