SurrenderED

#DMCA TAKE DOWN - The CONTELPRO Legacy: His story (and hers)

Daily dose of TM

StaTus: Halted in progress (yay me @ElyssaD)

I don't if know if you received this email. My netbook crashed as I as sending and it froze for 26 hours.

But I did the information for SafeLink program which is wonderful because my extremely "bazaar" and changes the cell service every few days without informing me. Tmobile will not provide information at all so I can't access email because they reset the password. Ironically, the ONE legal snafu with that little welfare phone...  the bitch fucked me there too... by claiming me AGAIN as a dependent in New York State.

As you know she claimed as a dependent on her tax returns without my consent or knowledge.

The IRS informed me of this breach since every time I went to file my taxed they were rejected by the IRS because it showed up a duplicate Tax (Social Security ID)

She claims that her accountant did and she knew nothing about it (if you could only picture my face and feel the sarcasm in voice as I am forced to repeat this information time and time again to any and all "agencies" who make inquired) she however does see this as a problem and refuses to file an amended return (cost $70.00) so once again I am rendered incapable of establishing independent (in every sense of the

word)

In addition, my father, well... Here we go...

My father as you know agreed to be my representative payee for Social Security disability. Obviously that was a big mistake on my part and has yet to be resolved. Congressman Cooper's office totally dropped the ball and said there is nothing they can do. I requested that reopen the investigation, and despite my persistent nice (which is both annoying and immense) they simply do pretend that I don't exist. Governor Bredesen sent an email telling me to call the President.

Seriously, are you kidding me?

So this is where we stand: no Social Security never received the money that received in ITOLA account during the months I spent sleeping in my car or at the lake last summer.

And yes. I did spend a week or so at "The Mission" when I ran out of gas, energy, and hope last August. My father still was receiving the money, but did not pay bills, or release to me in time to prevent the inevitable total disconnection of any and all services (utilities) making it near impossible to re-establish service. They required excessive fees for deposits and past due balances.

http://youtu.be/UkVtucGFaqc

HACKTIVISM 101

As per federal law, my father, Marc Durant is responsible for paying those fees as they were a direct result of his failure to act in my best interest but also a breach of fiduciary duty.

Now, to make matters worse, every time they seem to locate the paperwork it gets redirected to the Philadelphia field office. So The US Dept of Treasury located the funds that were never sent "in error" some bank account (probably in the Cayman's or wherever rich people go to hide there money ~ note both the sarcasm and the simple fact that this is most likely true. It is sad that even to put in these little side notes to even use the one things that through this mess...

Dark sarcasm and a little bit of humor. I'm sick of making excuses for these people (mother: Karen, and father: Leslie Marc Durant) so I am laying it down on the table for whomever it cares to question and blame me for this "unfortunate" situation..

These are the facts. And I need to take a break because my fingers are getting cramps and my back is in spasm.

But I will continue to "the facts" out as long so that I can be free of the constant struggle to be independent, self-sufficient and EMPLOYED! This is absurdity and I realize I have people who do see the obvious truth here. Yet in the real world and the everyday struggle to be "human" continues.

My mother will always be #batshitcrazy

My father will always be #abovethelaw

But I will not always have the strength or the ability to communicate effectively given my financial, physical and emotional reality.

I am aware. I am aware that this is too much for one person to handle and I don't blame those walk away in disgust and frustration because they don't understand the intricate details of the law or the immense emotional drama AND trauma that I face each day without resolution.

I understand that people need to believe that these are the ramblings of a mad woman. If that were true I would say by all means, give me the strongest does of anti psychotics asap. As I think most people are

starting to realize, unfortunately, these facts check out.

There is no treatment for the habitual and continued ignorance of the public at large.

It is not my job soothe them or educate them as in law, sociology, and "the world according to me @ElyssaD"

I do the best I can because I know how serious and pervasive certain components of my story ring true for a number of people.

I will do the best I can to fight that stigma and the emotional torture I live with every single say.

Godammit, I hope this thing sends. It is bad enough that I am typing all this shit on cell phone because AT&T wants a $450 non refundable fee plus $150 deposit, plus $49 for installation for internet.

So in the spirit of which it was intended:

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Get your own

Wishing myself luck. I know these words are dangerous to some, especially in light of the guy who got arrested for sending out a threatening tweet. Yeah, ~ insert sarcasm about here ~ if you think my words are "dangerous" than you need you deserve to be scared!

(Laughs to oneself as I know I am not a physical threat to anyone but let's face it, if you don't get it you never will. And if this is a lesson is Social Darwinism, let the dumb ones live in fear! And to quote (without permission or proper citation to be added!) But "If this tweet offends you, probably deserve it!"

 @icpchad Yes. I am aware. Now format this bitch and enter it into your contest. I deserve win something... Maybe an iTHINGY or iNTERNET. Not just iWANT that is a legitimate iNEED in the world I live in.

This is me, just me

@ElyssaD

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---------- Forwarded message ----------

From: Elyssa Durant

Date: Tue, 11 May 2010 19:32:58 -0500

Subject: New Microsoft Office Word Document

To: elyssa.durant@yahoo.com, ELYSSA DURANT

Thanks Stacy... I had a hearing at Social Security about two weeks ago.

Very depressing. It cost $44 to or transportation, and they already reversed the decision now I have to go back again and file the same paperwork.

I have not received anything from Section 8 which has me concerned, and my I am a really difficult time with without internet, TV, transportation.... or even a library w/in walking distance.

Especially with the weather this weekend... I had no idea until I heard the sirens. and then of everything was closed... and in 'the hood" it is cash culture, so of course ppl became very aggressive [aka mean] fighting over bottle of water and at the gas station when they reopened.

my mother cancelled changed the password on the "family plan" after we had "words" regarding well... really nothing... but today has just been especially difficult since I don't have reliable phone service... which of course is both a security and comfort issue for someone who writes as a form of therapy..

I just received this alert on my computer email... I don't even know where to start...

I received the invitation to the info session on WIPA that you guys did...unfortunately transportation is problematic.

I have been receiving a lot of from people online... as silly as it sounds there are so many ppl isolated and lonely. So I found they have forums for ppl with PTSD and it has been very helpful to have eed back that I am not the only one feeling left behind in the disability movement.

Apparently I managed to reach a few ppl locally who call [my number is public] to ask if I had any success with the housing and re-employment programs. it makes me feel like I can be of some service to the community... social services just got hear so I need to sign off but I have received so many fraud alert that other people e.g., EFF and other human right agencies have started to ask about my story.

All I can say is that I did write a review online for the Center for Independent Living at disabilty.gov website when they were looking to for feedback on reemployment programs... I also had an article in USA Today and the Hufffington Post that made me hopeful and regret at the same time... this is a recent post i got tons of feed back on... it is long, but ppl really seem to relate...

Daily dose of TMI: May 13, 3010

Staus: Halted in progress

I don't if know if you received this email. My netbook crashed as I as sending and it froze for 26 hours.

But I did the information for SafeLink program which is wonderful because my extremely "bazaar" and changes the cell service every few days without informing me. Tmobile will not provide information at all so I can't access email because they reset the password. Itonically, the ONE legal snafu with that lttle welfare phone...  the bitch fucked me there too... by claiming me AGAIN as a dependent in New York State.

As you know she claimed as a dependent on her tax returns without my consent or knowledge. The IRS informed me of this breach since every time I went to file my taxed they were rejected by the IRS because it showed up a duplicate Tax (Social Security ID)

She claims that her accountant did and she knew nothing about it (if you could only picture my face and feel the sarcasm in voice as I am forced to repeat this information time and time again to any and all "agencies" who make inquired) she however does see this as a problem and refuses to file an amended return (cost $70.00) so once again I am rendered incapable of establishing independent (in every sense of the

word)

In addition, my father,

My father as you know agreed to be my representative payee for Social Security disability. Obviously that was a big mistake on my part and has yet to be resolved. Congressman Cooper's office totally dropped

the ball and said there is nothing they can do. I requested that reopen the investigation, and despite my persistent nice (which is both annoying and immense) they simply do pretend that I don't exist. Governor Bredesen sent an email telling me to call the President.

Seriously, are you kidding me?

So this is where we stand: no Social Security never received the money that received in IOTLA account during the months I spent sleeping in my car or at the lake last summer.

And yes. I did spend a week or so at "The Mission" when I ran out of gas, energy, and hope last August. My father still was receiving the money, but did not pay bills, or release to me in time to prevent the inevitable total disconnection of any and all services (utilities) making it near impossible to re-establish service. They required excessive fees for deposits and past due balances.

As per federal law, my father, Marc Durant is responsible for paying those fees as they were a direct result of his failure to act in my best interest but also a breach of fiduciary duty.

Now, to make matters worse, every time they seem to locate the paperwork it gets redirected to the Philadelphia field office. So The US Dept of Treasury located the funds that were never sent "in error" some bank account (probably in the Cayman's or wherever rich people go to hide there money ~ note both the sarcasm and the simple fact that this is most likely true. It is sad that even to put in these little side notes to even use the one things that through this mess...

Dark sarcasm and a little bit of humor. I'm sick of making excuses for these people (mother: Karen, and father: Leslie Marc Durant) so I am laying it down on the table for whomever it cares to question and blame me for this "unfortunate" situation..

These are the facts. And I need to take a break because my fingers are getting cramps and my back is in spasm.

But I will continue to "the facts" out as long so that I can be free of the constant struggle to be independent, self-sufficient and EMPLOYED! This is absurdity and I realize I have people who do see the obvious truth here. Yet in the real world and the everyday struggle to be "human" continues.

My mother will always be #batshitcrazy.

My father will always be #abovethelaw.

But I will not always have the strength or the ability to communicate effectively given my financial, physical and emotional reality.

I am aware. I am aware that this is too much for one person to handle and I don't blame those walk away in disgust and frustration because they don't understand the intricate details of the law or the immense emotional drama AND trauma that I face each day without resolution.

I understand that people need to believe that these are the ramblings of a mad woman. If that were true I would say by all means, give me the strongest does of anti psychotics asap. As I think most people are starting to realize, unfortunately, these facts check out.

There is no treatment for the habitual and continued ignorance of the public at large.

It is not my job soothe them or educate them as in law, sociology, and "the world according to me @ElyssaD"

I do the best I can because I know how serious and pervasive certain components of my story ring true for a number of people.

I will do the best I can to fight that stigma and the emotional torture I live with every single say.

Godammit, I hope this thing sends. It is bad enough that I am typing all this shit on cell phone because AT&T wants a $450 non refundable fee plus $150 deposit, plus $49 for installation for internet

So in the spirit of which it was intended:

Wishing myself luck. I know these words are dangerous to some, especially in light of the guy who got arrested for sending out a threatening tweet. Yeah, ~ insert sarcasm about here ~ if you think my words are "dangerous" than you need you deserve to be scared!

(Laughs to oneself as I know I am not a physical threat to anyone but let's face it, if you don't get it you never will. And if this is a lesson is Social Darwinism, let the dumb ones live in fear! And to quote (without permission or proper citation to be added!) But "If this tweet offends you, probably deserve it!"

 @icpchad Yes. I am aware. Now format this bitch and enter it into your contest. I deserve win something... Maybe an iTHINGY or iNTERNET. Not just iWANT that is a legitimate iNEED in the world I live in.

This is me, just me

e

@ElyssaD

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Elyssa Durant, Ed.M.

Nashville, Tennessee

(615) 424-8810

"You may not care how much I know, but you don't know how much I care."

_________________________________________________________________

Posted via email from ElyssaD's Posterous

File under: Disambiguation, Crime, Social Justice / Human Rights; Crime, Crisis, Digital Divide, Cognitive Dissonance, Conspiracy

uncensored

The first course I took as a grad student in New York City was a fabulous seminar in public journalism. on the 4th floor at the infamous J-School located inside the cool steel gates separating surrounding Morningside Heights.

We would pass the men living on the streets each day, enter through the solid stone doors that were 12 ft tall, and write about them. With such eloquence you would hardly know they were homeless at all. I would enter at 116th Street. Homeless people leaned against the buildings asking for change I did not have.  We pretended not to see them. the were invisible people. If you could avoid making eye contact, you could pretend you didn't see them.

We exploited them.

The blocks surrounding 116th-120th where the young and talented get ready to take their place in society. Our liberal professors gave us just the right skills to turn us into experts.  Experts in public journalism, public relations, and media manipulation.  We were gifted with a card key to unlock the gates. That key gave us access and privilege.

Yes, membership does have it privileges.

All took was a swipe of the card and we could bypass security we had the power to get in. Tradition. The Ivy League way.

Just like Tuskegee exploited the Blacks, and the Army exploits the young and the rudderless, we exploited the sick irony of paying more per credit than they earned in one year on Veterans benefits or disability. We disgust me.

But Karma is a bitch, because less than 2 years later there I was,

I would sleep in the law school library, had a locker in the basement next to the the indoor pool, and University mailbox, and a beautiful smile. I had the power to get in.  

I “looked" good enough to pass through the gates. I still do, only now I am the invisible one.

I had the Ivy League pedigree. You can't take that away from me. It is written on my birth certificate. 

A power broker in the making... a would have / should have / could have / member of the ruling elite... The Powers That Beat.

Am I "Law School material?"

I have what it takes to get in on my own? So why question my heritage or my DNA? How is that relevant to the life I live today?  

What the fuck did they know? That cute little Jewish Girl from Long Island, the one from a "good" family... the Harvard Legacy with the beautiful mother dripping in jewels and fur coats received from her latest boyfriend or husband—that little girl was me. 

I should have been the perfect example of how a power player in the making the benefits from good breeding.

No one ever needed to know that beneath it all I worked my ass off to pay my way through my first two years of college.  No one cared and no one believed me anyway.  

Ultimately I managed to get a scholarship into the top ranked program in Sociology and Politics. Ranked at the very top of the list in US News and World Report. I can affect change.

The fact that I dropped out of high school at 16 could remain my dirty little secret.

And to this day, no one ever come forward to expose that little truth. Probably because so few people know—Maybe three or four So why on earth would I reveal such an embarrassing little detail of my personal life and risk my reputation on something I should have left behind me over twenty years ago?

[edd/eds Nov. 9, 2009: notes to follow... re: Enclave: Drop Dread]

Because it matters.

No one needed to know. I can get by well enough on my looks, I speak quite eloquently, and usually appear normal to most, but it is an important little factoid because people constantly judge ME based upon who they think I am – either the girl with the wealthy parents, or a lazy too stupid too get off welfare.

It matters because all too often, what appears to be and reality are two very different things. I am in fact, an Ivy League Alum. I did in fact get a full scholarship into the PhD program in Public Policy at a leading University.

Impressive? Not so much...

I am in fact unable to find employment and live on SSI (Supplemental Security Income) the lowest of the low. I am so far beneath the poverty level (already ridiculous) that I often wonder how I manage to live at all.

So that "legacy," the access I once had to the Ivory tower on the 4th floor we wrote is now gone. Not because they didn't like my work-- they loved it! Solid A in Public Journalism.

Well if I were in New York today, I would most likely be one of the people o the streets. Actually, I would probably be sitting across the street at the Bookstore just so I could stay close to the vast amounts of wisdom and philosophy within the hollowed halls as classes break for the summer. I would be watching people go in and out and be envious that they had the one thing that I don't: access.

So I made it through the very Same J-School where Pat Buchanan refused to speak to his Alma-mater because he once punched someone in the face on the 5th floor. I made it through despite the fact that I often times slept in my car in the middle of winter because I could not afford gas for the commute and eventually lost my apartment. I made it through having no electricity and frozen water pipes.

The question is: can I make it through this? I paid my dues.

I deserve a chance. Dammit, I deserve a chance. I deserve a job. I deserve a little credit.

Will our policy decision be based upon our need for reform or the ability to buy into the trendy ads that generating hate and intolerance. ANd to be clear, it is not just the insurance lobby.  It is ALL of US.

Dems, libs, pubs, non-profits, not-for-profits, even agencies and organizations I reluctantly support and/or promote for free: Despite the fact that i find their tactics both offensive and hypocritcal.

At Coulmbia, we used to joke about all the sell-out journalists who gave up on the news... peple like Pat Buchananan who took the same course, but into politics instead.  The whole bunch of them.  They crossed that fine line specturm.... speech writers, columnists; or even politicians themselves.

How did people like Pat Buchanan (a J-School alum) became so skilled at using their words to sell ideas in such a way that people actually believed the propaganda they were spinning?

After giving much thought to where or what I hoped to become, I am glad that we now live in society where all citizens can take place in reporting the news, watching the watchers, and participating in the democratic process where freedom of the press is the key to success...

Thank god all mighty.... because I have since come to the conclusion that the mediawhores feeding the machine are more arrogant and self serving than politicians they who have virtually no limits when it comes to feeding their ego in 15 second time bytes.

I think they become addicted to the their own power to manipulate people and they are willing to trade a little tarnished idealism for power and inflated self-esteem.

I am not one of those people. I care enough about the issues to take the time to examine them from all angles. I feel that the massive amount of money being spent by agencies that I hold in deep respect launching a counter-attack on the insurance companies and their ad execs will have serve to damage their reputation. I chose to volunteer with these agencies because I believe they are well informed and do a great job to involve the everyday average Americans like myself in the political process.

By spending $750,000 on advertising, these groups now seem to be on the same level as the insurance industry and others who exploit the poor and infirm at the mercy of the healthcare marketplace. 

WHERE $750 MILLION IS BEING SPENT

So I take issue with this campaign. Let Rick Scott be heard. Using such tactics will make the good guys no better than the Insurance Companies that exploit us all.

Are these ads showing us: how to reform or how to perform? 

The large amount of funds being thrown (public or private) being spent on media fluff, and emotional being spent on media propaganda and 'skittles' on both sides of the healthcare debate.

I am offended by the huge amounts of money being spent on propaganda and skittles by both sides of the healthcare debate. Excessive, exorbitant monies being spent to manipulate the public through misleading ads, expert analyses, action alerts, and media manipulation: this is insulting at best.

Real dollars are being used to manipulate the public about real issues: the sick; the poor, the ignorant... We are skewing and spewing  bad data and information to those who need it the most.

Talk about adding insult to injury? I do hope the Center for Media Health Care for America Now, HealthJustice.org and others will reconsider this campaign. I am one foot soldier who is unwilling to participate in this one.   And these are the good guys... $750 MILLION?

Bottom line is this: we need to stop manipulating images and perceptions about the reality of healthcare, education, and social welfare in the United States.

All is not well in America. Not well at all.
And I am here to prove it!


Elyssa Durant, Ed.M.
Anytown, United States of America

FREEPRESS LINK

10/22/09 6:26am

The Roof is On Fire

The APPEAL had given me for the thirteen months I actually believed somebody was listening. WRONG AGAIN! That false strength I kept in reserve to keep going was the part of me that needed to believe that I haven't lost everything. It gave a false sense that somebody was actually listening.

I WAS WRONG.... THE APPEAL WAS NEVER REVIEWED. AND NO ONE SEEMS TO GIVE A DAMN THAT THIRTEEN MONTHS HAVE PASSED, AND MY BENEFITS ARE MORE SCREWED UP THAN EVER!

So listen carefully, my friends. It was not too long ago that I had almost everything a young person needs to succeed in this world.

Or maybe not.

As for my most current insurance dispute... I feel that I have done everything humanly possible to be sympathetic towards health care provider who is NOT providing care. I cannot sacrifice my own well being for every bright eyed bushy tailed wanna be who is too stupid to see that I am far from.

I had such a battle this week. It culminated in the end like every other battle I have taken on. I only won because ultimately but we are all losing.

For every underqualified, health care provider who has NOT provided the adequate, there are many more like me. Alienated just enough to give up on fashion, etiquette and social norms; but not enough to walk away from it all.

We are keeping watch. We are taking names, and I for one do not give a rat's ass about "keeping the peace."

Having been on both sides if the proverbial couch, I have the perspective is both enlightening and scary at the same time.

I look back and want to say shout "told you so" from the nearest roof top.

Crazy is crazy does... out loud. I may be enjoying this just a little too much.

Sometimes I try to look at this fight, (I meant to say this life) objectively.

I can see my own future, and I can see where it is taking me. I know how it will end if I don't keep up the pace.

It is amazing at how far we will go to have nothing at all.

I have come this far, and on some level I almost enjoy the dance. No. On some level, I actually love the dance.

But then there are days like this.

Because without this turmoil, this exercise in futility, absurdity, government waste, bureaucracy, irreverent disregard for basic human kindness, decency and humanity-- and all long to go to the kind of place I hear about ain Fairy Tales .

He speaks of a place called Neverland.  You see, I don't know the story of Peter Pan, Captain Hook, and I have no idea who Wendy is. Of course I've heard of Tink (though I hear she is a pain in the ass ;) but only because I like glitter pens and fairy dust. I don't know these things, because I don't know the innocence, the purity, the make believe world of childhood. I never had one.

I knew cruelty... and though I am not cruel, this is who I am at this very moment: Dark, discouraged, and deeply disappointed.

What if this is all that there is for me? If I can never break free from this cycle of insanity, and trust me when I say the insanity I speak of is NOT in my head. We have all heard the expression insanity is the sane response to insane surroundings; let me assure that there are very few cases that rival mine. I am the stuff psychologists, sociologists, and the occult speak of behind closed doors. My sister and I were raised this way. She may be a lawyer, she may have good credit, she may have a lot of things, but while my father took me to see the same shrink that treated Danton, Milken, Masrtronardo and more, he took her to see a psychiatrist who specialized in serial killers.

So I wonder, and you should too... did he take us there to be healed or did he take us there to create our futures? I will never be good enough for him. Thank god jesus allah and the power invested in this little stupid wifi device... his vision of us, his vision of U.S. is wrong.

I know this now. I didn't know then. I have proof now. I hardly even need it. It all out in the open and I am glad. Never again should the FBI create hatred, men so indoctrinated by power that they have such little regard for human life that they treat their children the same way they treated John Africa and the thirteen members of MOVE the day the Powers That Beat decided it was long overdue to take John Africa out. So what if thirteen people died with him... who cares about the 5 children who died alog with him?

The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire. We don't need no water let the mother fucker burn,  Burn, mother fucker, burn. 

And they did.  And they died. May 13, 1985.

Burned forever in my mind, and it should be in yours too. OUR COUNTRY. OUR PEOPLE. OUR GOVERNMENT.

FUCK YOU AMERICA! FUCK THE US FOR FUCKING US ALL!  And thank you daddy, for letting me in on the secret.  Now what? 

What else would call if not the City of Brotherly Love? ON A MOVE...

I do. Because my daddy told me to shoot them ya know... just in case. Daddy lost his first and only trial and the CITY of Philadelphia decided it was time to take him out.

No. I won't give up now. I could be next! (As I laugh my fucking ass off!!!!!)

What if I have nothing left? What if the Hook does NOT bring me back?

This demonstration and project in futility and determination has defined me for so long, that without it, I'm not sure if I am anything at all.

fuck that... yeah... Reality Bytes. But I won't play dead, and I won't pretend my name is not Elyssa Danielle Durant. My Daddy changed his, my gold-digging bitch of a mother changed her name 5 times, now with $250K invested in it, her face and her body are quite lovely too.

Mumia is STILL on death row. The 39th District is corrupt to the core. The MAYOR dropped the bomb. May 13, 1985. No longer sealed, and I am no longer hiding, Now I know, why my life stopped when it was about to start. I know the truth, and the feds know I'm certifiable. So you decide...

~~~~~this where I must break~~~ all in due time my friends~~~~

I can't lose what I never had. I won’t be another sell-out... mostly because I don't know how.

I am then the voice of perseverance. I am one voice of perseverance. I am one of 47 million Americans. And today I am I am still fighting the good fight.

This battle; this challenge; this half won war this fight has come to define me. And without that, I am not really much of anything at all...

As someone once told me, if you don’t stand for something, you will fall for anything. I've already fallen, but I sure as shit stand for something.

"...so for now, I write. Maybe later read.  I am always listening. But if there is any justice left in this world, maybe someday, I might actually live."

That's a;; for now, folks. I think I'll tweet a bit.  I think I've earned it the right to play a little.  Can't go anywhere anyway.  License suspended (thanks again dad! You can manage to moved 1.3 million dollars into two separate trusts within one hour of TRO, but you it takes 22 days to hand over the $4.50 I needed to avoid eviction and 6 months homelessness?)  

You must be so proud. I'm finally doing you ordered me to do long ago. Fighting for myself, because you made it clear you will never do it for me.  Lesson learned. Bring it on. Again.  This time I know what t expect.

Elyssa Durant

Nashville, Tennessee

[Parts previously posted at United Professionals under: An Appalling Appeal]

The Greatest Gift, My Deepest Regret: Pepe's Final Gift: The Gift of Goodbye

Bye-Bye Spotty [Content Warning]

I wish people would care as much about their children as I do about my pets.

I never even planned to get attached to Spotty. I already had one cat and had no interest in getting another. However, I agreed to hold on to her took her for one of my clients because he was not permitted to have pets while in foster care. That was 2002.



So even though I know that child will come back for her, I do feel in someway I made a promise to a child that I can't keep. I aide a promise to Spotty that I have already broken. So I guess this is goodbye again. And the only thing worse than saying goodbye, is having to no idea what will happen to her. Omg... this is almost too painful to write.

It has been months since I posted the first "ad?" trying to find a home for Spotty. I thought for sure somebody, anybody, would be willing to hold onto to her for a couple of months.

Yest here we are 4 months later, and I have to live with the fact that I am now "that" person. The person who abandons their own children, or leaves an animal behind when the move. I am "that" person.

I have already done the research. There are very few"low kill" shelters in Tennessee. The fact that they even classify them as "low" kill makes me want to throw up. But that's the reality.

I really hate this world.

No one gives a shit about the kids who are already here living in poverty, foster homes, on the streets, or anyway the can to survive. So who gives a shit about a few people who at least have the luxury of a quick painless death rather than having it drained out of them day by day; tear by tear, year after year after year after year.






I don't want to get rid of Spotty. I don't want her euthanized when I feel her little head nuzzled against my neck. She is not sick, she is not, her only crime is belonging to me. What the fuck with this world. we can through puppies into plastic bags and freeze them to death because it is "easier" than "putting them to sleep."

So yeah, there you have it. I fucked up again. How ironic that the one thing I don't have is the only thing people seem to want from me. I can't wait to hear about this one. I am 36 years old. I am not a child. I am not a criminal. I am not cruel. I have no answers for you. I do not have the resources that most people take for granted.

Why must they take the one thing I love-- the one thing that loves me. Does it make it all better for everybody else? dad, I learned my lesson. I have accepted the hand I have been dealt.

I'm not stupid, and I know that I can't blame my mom for this one since I'll be the one to drive her to the shelter tomorrow.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

If I say I'm sorry, would that make it okay for me to keep Spotty? Will someone please tell me what I need to say because I'm not sure what I did.

I'm old enough to know that nobody is coming to save me. I don't even brother to ask but why must an innocent animal who did not ask for this be the ultimate punishment for a sin I don't remember committing.

So where does Spotty go? To the farm with Abby & Ollie during divorce number two and custody battle number 4? Will my father mail me some fake ashes out of the fire place. Will my mommy drive her out to Suffolk County so she can use an assumed name like "Harrison" so I can't locate her? At least I found Pepe. I can only hope that one day I'll find Spotty.

Special message to two "special" people: Mom, I hope some takes Ziggy from you. The same way you took Pepe to that shelter in Suffolk County during the darkest moment of my life. I remember what you said, and what you were told by 3 separate mental health professionals. In fact, they remember too, because they found the your actions to be so far beyond the scope of rational behavior, they documented the entire thing. In fact, once Pepe was located, they kept a copy of the "adoption papers" in my medical records both as a precaution and as relevant family history.

Dad?

Well, whatever. I can't think of anything care enough about to lose-- so enjoy. You win. I surrender. Whatever. I guess you'll tell what I'm supposed to do because that worked so well with my last Landlord.

Why can't I just live a life without empathy? I guess if you don't love anything but yourself, you will never know grief.

Well now I'm really fucked, because I'm not all fond of myself these days. Don't worry, you don't need to call parents, they already know, and they couldn't care less. In fact they'll probably bill you for wasting there time. Besides, unless you went Harvard, Yale or Princeton they don't give a shit what you think. So join the club.

Just remember this: Spotty didn't chose me. I chose her. So here we go again... because apparently there is not a single person I know who is willing to save Spotty.








Actually, that sounds about right. I know exactly how she feels.

Pepe's Final Gift: The Gift of Goodbye


Many years back I had the most vivid nightmare, that 16 years later I can still remember the details of my worst nightmare:


I am standing in a sea of unfamiliar faces. There is violence everywhere. Red. Broken. Bleeding.


I am holding Pepe, and he is broken. Bleeding. Clinging to me, clinging to life. I rush through the crowd looking for safety. There is no way out. Just angry faces in a sea of violence.


In the distance, I see two police officers. I run to them believing they will help me find a way out of the madness. Believing they will bring me to safety. A safe haven. Shelter from the storm. Free from the madness. Free from the violence. Free from this sea of unfamiliar faces so I can get my bleeding, broken, suffering friend the help he needs to make him well. The help we need to be whole again.


When I reach the podium, the men were facing the crowd. They were standing there, backs to me; they just stood there to face to the crowd banging their black, wooden night sticks while on just standing there Beating their night sticks against their palms. I call out but no one listens. No one can hear me above the roar of the crowd. So I tap them on the shoulder, holding Pepe close to my heart— hoping they will instinctively see the love and fear in his yellow gold eyes. Of course, they would rescue us. Yes, they would rescue us and bring us to safety. Free from the violence, free from the madness. Free from this hell and take us somewhere safe. Somewhere far, far away from here. And then they turn. In unison, they turn around to face me, and I look at them. I am horrified. I am horrified because these are not police officers at all. They are clowns. Literally, figuratively, in every way they are simply clowns. Clowns in uniform. In unison. In unanimity. Inhumanity. My worst nightmare. The cops were clowns.


Pepe was “only” a cat, but I made him a promise that I intended to keep. I would give him everything I longed for: keep him safe, keep him fed, make him well, I would give him love. Lots and lots of love. Unconditional love. Always. Until the day my perfect little angel would return to heaven. And I did. And he did. And we did. Alone, together, Pepe gave me strength when I was too weak to care for myself. He could not talk, but he sure tried!


After seventeen years, Pepe died the other day, and my worst nightmare did not come true. I loved him until the very end. Even then he gave me the most perfect and fitting gift. He gave me freedom. He gave me comfort. He gave me hope and he gave me peace.


I know that I can love. I am capable of complete, total, unconditional love. He was like a child. Pure, innocent and completely, totally, unconditionally loved. Yes, I am capable of love. I am capable of complete, total, and unconditional love. Pepe, my precious angel, may you rest in peace… There is a better place for you now. There always was.

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