WHATS A CYNIC BUT A
DREAMER WHOSE HEARTs
SERIOUSLY SHATTERED?
OMG. It hit me like a chest of Fools Gold as I read back “Thru the Eye of Cherenne” it hits on my “Holy Grail of Life Meaning” My constant search for a meaningful next life segment. My perennial search for the “Perfect Man”, recently updated to “Perfect for Me” which quickly became a hauntingly beautiful sung local and grammy nominated winning local awards song when I penned this 3 years ago. I wrote about my search for the “Perfect Man” long before and nearly every day since. Hours. How many hours with the new zestful twist, like lemon in my seltzer, is finding love in sappy love songs, shown to me by someone with a love and zest for life and love that matches my own. Someone who listens without judging, who smiles with love and understanding while telling you, “You done f’d up” without using such harsh words. At least not with me. I still though use those words on myself, and its ok. It good to know when you screwed up and try to fix it. Though as Prentice always asked, “Why is it you can fix things for everyone else, but yourself?” Prentice, if I could answer that, my life would be better and the rest of the world not as good. Perhaps that is God’s Plan for my life and why he keeps me locked into a search rather than finding the Treasured Holy Grail. Perhaps its the Devils doing, or perhaps I don’t put the same level of effort in, or perhaps Sophia and Sissy jinxed me, or the perennially best answer when in doubt, e) all of the above.
When he switched his Sappy Love Songs to User and Abuser Songs I recoiled and he felt it. Never did he go there again, even one night asking bar owners on their Grand Opening, if he could mix it up and do the Sappy Love Songs he sings at Happy Hour. Little did he know, before him I listened to those user and abuser songs? Bad boy songs were more believable to me. I just couldn’t take hearing those words from him, as accustomed as I had grown to listening to Sappy Love Songs sung from his heart. He serenaded emotion and new perspective into my energy.
How did I not see this before? Neither of us believed in Sappy Love Songs. Neither of us had felt the love described in those sappy songs. That is until I walked into his Happy Hour show day after day, and song by song he subbed out one song of heartbreaker user, replacing it with a song of TOGETHER FOREVER WITH YOU. When he made his Promise Wish? That he is going to make me like sappy love songs. Is it because he wanted to believe that he could make me feel it and then he’d believe in sappy love too? Did he just want to believe that it could be real? That two from different worlds could make something happen? A path to crossover an unwritten chasm, especially entrenched in this local culture. Or did he already know what sappy happy was? Judging by his emotional state when I first walked in, I doubted it. Regardless of how it affected him, he moved me. He changed me. It is all him because the rest of my life had mostly been emotional hell with little redeeming value coming from any former relationships, beyond showing me what not to do, and what is missing miscellaneous silver linings. But I wasn’t about to do casual encounter.

OK here’s a nonsequiter.  This is NOT the chapter I wrote 5 years ago.  This is real time recording of ongoing torture as I was editing this book last year.  I pulled the book back out n strange happenings began.  Some so strong I was laid out n back on deaths doorstop.  When I finally evaluated 7 Feb 3024, i could lnly take about 5 steps before collapsing. I could not do one leg lift. One pushup or walk one step.   Now what’s funny, NOT FUNNY is this went down November 2023. 

One Peanut Galley Pundit suggested he thought I was of all things FRIGID. Now that likely could just be an excuse tossed out as plausible cover, the biggest MISCOMMUNICATION since, well I might even have to google this. I can’t even come up with a major miscommunication of this magnitude. Oh Wait Yes I can. 2 Ships from different countries with different signals one cold April night on a collision course in the Arctic tundra waters. Big Ships.  Big Ship Take a long time to turn. Its not like a boat, or a car or a trike. Both Ships Went Left. Collided and Sunk. You may have heard of one, the Titanic. Thereafter the International Community came together and invented this lil thing called “Rules of the Road” To get an internationally recognized Captain’s License, you must get a 90% on 100s of pages of rules, colors, light combinations and they test on the most obscure. Most people take the class 2 or 3 times and the test at least twice. Now, the Professional Engineer Exam or Bar Exam may be more challenging, but you dont need 90%. You only need 70%. I rest my case.
That reminds me of the time a Chemist using my boat to do some research about a certain fish brought along another blond Adonnis. This one with long blond curly hair and biceps the size of my then Tina Turn-like Quads. And nice and cute and well-mannered. But then he really stole my heart. Its just the 2 of them renting my local knowledge and boat to do sampling. So turns out he’s high up in the Israeli Navy Dive Team, SASSY!  As we’re trying to convert his kilogram weight belt to my pound belts, tripping all over each other’s politeness, I know its 2.2 but I can never remind which way that goes, neither does he. I sigh, saying  “I hate this saying, but better to be heavy that light.”  He comes back with my line, “I’d rather be right.” I burst out laughing, Thats my line! I’ve never heard anyone else use it. Then he asks what kind of entry we use. I say seated backroll, but since it’s just you, you can use whatever entry you’d like. You can’t be a bad example for anyone. He bursts out laughing and says, “That’s my line. I’ll do a seated backroll. There’s only room for one captain on the boat.” You know as much as I loved him from that second on, for I’d usually have to argue and persuade people to follow boat rules, I loved him every time I had a Know-It-All who comes in after you’ve got the whole drill figured out, “Same Right Way Every Day” that’s how you beat the odds that are stacked against you when you are in unfamiliar territory, where a million tings can send you into a downhill spiral. After that, when I’d get a real jackal who just wouldn’t listen, I’d tell that story. It usually shamed them into at least not obviously fighting me. Now don’t get confused. That there is only room for one captain does NOT mean that the captain shouldn’t hear real concern to be included in the Hazzard Analysis, but when one steps into someone elses plans and instead of solving problems creates them, and in fact turns a well running parade into a 2 car headon accident and all progress is lost, well, That’s when to bend to local wisdom, put on your Big Boy Boots, go back to your own people and let them know, “Dude. This is High Noon at the OK Corral. Don’t f’in come in and Tell Wyatt Earp how to handle that pack of brothers. Come in like Doc Halliday and be the best dam first mate the World has ever seen even if its the first time in your life you’ve ever done anything for the Greater Good at cost to your own Self-Interest. Since Doc Halliday died 8 months after, I wonder if he made it through the Pearly Gates for his good deed helping Wyatt against those Clancy Boys despite all his sinning ways up til then. Gotta Love a Good Israeli Officer and whoever has their backs. They’re well versed in swimming with Sharks of all flavors from every corner 350 forward and backwards. Don’t do their Hazzard Analysis for them when you ain’t even seen a tunnel. I must have told that story 10,000 times if I told it once. That’s how I learned Sassy. Because he wasn’t. Even though he was a commander and I was a girl captain. Don’t Start Me Up about the “Chick Diving” day. Said to me by another Adonnis, after I made him put the slipper lobster back. He pulled it out from under a Coral Head and let it go in the middle of sand. They crawl about as fast as a snail. We got up to the boat. I laughed so hard I didn’t even make him cross the transom seat to blow off some stem. “Chick Diving!” (He has his own boat in the tundra where their calm days are worse than our roughtest days. But we all have to follow the same rules or one who can’t do it will copycat, end hurting himself or whoever goes to help him. Usually the latter.  Else, someone has a problem while those 2 occupy each other.  That’s how you end up on the back page of “DIVEMASTER MAG Darwin of the Quarter Award”. It was much later that someone filled me in more on SASI protocols, however you spell it.

Perhaps Raf was trying to throw off someone he thought might be competition, HERE COMES THAT DAM “JEALOUS” SONG AGAIN across the Airwaves. I hate this song. It’s ridiculous that he can be jealous, when all he’d have to do is invite me to dinner, or the beach, or a drink or something. But I guess twice burned or or thrice burned, your tolerance drops down to fumes in an empty gas tank. Trouble is I thought I knew who requested that song at moments like these when lately that too was obsured behind a dense haze of Smoke&Mirrors about as thick as London Pea Fog. Another phenomena I have yet to experience, but I hear tell it’s quite dense. Sometimes like my little pea Brain, and HIS.

Dude. I’m a 2 3 or 4 a day person, time and life permitting. I’m talking an hour and several Os. Don’t call me frigid when I’m just selective, Please don’t make me get witnesses to testify to this. That’s hilarious.

Its just that after so long of looking for a real relationship, satisfying emotionally spiritually physically, yet not finding what I was looking for, I went the route of casual encounters. It really wasn’t only physical. We went boating, diving, out on the town, lotta of fun. Then he’d head back to the States for good.  Good company.  Fun until it’s NOT. It’s definitely a lot less heartbreak. Then, on a wild hair I gave up casual encounters for Lent. Right after one real jerk complicated life. The first Lent I’d honored since High School. Talk about Hella Comeback.  After Easter, I never started back up. Kind of like when you cut out coffee for 40 days.  Afterwards, it doesn’t taste nearly as good, and you feel ever so much better without it. I also read a certain verse in Revelations indicating that could be a permanent Heaven blocker turning the 1970s Free to Love from something I thought ok, into a spiritual downward spiral. So I dropped it. Abstinence does cut the other way. That in and of itself is telling. If after 40 days, you still want the coffee, well then, Now You Know.  I do still want sex. It just meant a greatest sacrifice.  It also meant I’m eating more chocolate and catching more lobsta.

Side benefit? Cutting out the physical did for me after years of tasting all the flavors is to let me separate users and losers, farmers and charmers from those who might actually let you hold the Remote Control. Dropping casual encounters, whether looking for more or for fun, made it easier to assess the guy before my emotions messed with my brain. It’s easier to distance yourself.

Trouble is all that clarity made me like men less romantically. I guess God gives women those Love Chemicals for a reason! Why can’t he just improve the mold? Like trading in a Pinto for a Ferrari.  Please, do we have to have another WTFNow segment on how the thickest glacier in the world is melting after 30 years? First of all, it hasn’t been 30 years. Second, well, that’s all I got.

Take RAF. While I love him for what he is and how I feel around him, and how that changed the way I looked at others and the world, I’m okay with whichever way we turned out. I so appreciated what we had that it satisfied me. Now this isn’t Sweet Grapes. It just gave me the freedom to love him as a man, whether or not our whatever this relationship is ever turned into more, or something, or friendship, or disappeared intothe  nothingness that sometimes happens as people pass through your life.  People sometimes help you through a dark time, never to be seen or heard from again. I was ok with it. At least in the beginning. Definitely further down the road. In between, it was agonizingly painful as I realized I prolly really screwed up a good thing by once again granting TIME instead of asking, WHEN?

Not jumping into the physical too soon also lets you figure out, kind of sort of, who’d listen without judging, even when you’re wrong. Lord knows if you remain quiet long enough to be able to detect these aspects in a man, if you find one who can do what you need regularly and without fuss, you best reach out and Hold On Loosely, as the song goes, until you know whether you’d like to Spend Some Time Together, Run Away Together, or simply run away as fast and as far as you can from this man.

Man, once you start listening to those sappy love songs, they pervade your thoughts, your choice of words. How much better are sappy songs than the songs of bittersweet heartache? Thank God This One Musician at least played in the key of A and happily added bass adjustment I requested from Day One. Day One, that fateful I first helped him with his sound check. Something I so willingly did when musicians came to play in my little DIVE BAR, where Satan landed when St. Michael booted him outta Heaven.  Raf was the first Musician on LaAmoria I really enjoyed listening to. The first since a lifetime of music sunsets on Pirate’s Blight watching Reed.

Raf was the second rare trifecta of voice, sound, and selection. I was not going to miss a second of his Music, nor have his sound not be right. Apparently, I endeared him to me in yet another way.  He accommodated even my request to modify his Music.

Don’t Start Me Up because I’m tired of these threats and shooting head pains that  left my address out in plain view AFTER I  once you’ve experienced ti, life without it is as the good book says, just an empty clanging BuzzZapping Head Pangs and Debilitation Bell.
That question that I asked nearly every Musician who played at my lil Dive Bar that ran Music 3-6 nights a week. “Where do you go when you go into that zone? Where you come back from somewhere else with Music that is Perfection? Is it to The Other Side,  getting this book finished, and touring the world. Together or Separate I do not know. If together, then whether partners, colleagues or lovers, really matters naught. Who ever knows where these little things that pop up suddenly seemingly from nowhere will take us if we will only listen. If we heed. If we follow. It may just be a surprise link to an entirely different outcome that one could NEVER have predicted or imagined. For things happen in mysterious ways. Sometimes? Often? Usually?
Even more surprising is that what we shared is better than the best sex I’ve ever had, even that White Flash Sex I thought could never be topped. I suspect though, that if we ever go there it will make that WLS pale by comparison. Might even bring in all the colors of the rainbow in spectacular flashes rivaling the Northern Lights. If we don’t go there, I’m perfectly content. For that is not what this is about. It’s very hard to explain. In that case together we’ll make Beautiful Music and share it with the world in a way that allows others to cross-over to the other side with us. Is that what Morrison was talking about? Except RAF and I merge together using only Music while clearly Morrison needed a lot of adult candy to help make the trip. Until he left for good. Or did he finally reach the Other Side and just decide NOT to return. Did he after finally making it all the way there decide to stay? And no. Never worry about me. For Suicide is against my religion, and even if I no longer actively practice the dogma of religion, there are certain beliefs one learns as a little girl that stick with you forever. For Better or for Worse. No way to disguise my death as a suicide. EVER. Nor as a shark attack.
Does any of this mean that maybe THE BEST IS STILL YET TO COME? It’s been a long time since I felt even the possibility of that. A very long time. A long time of being numb. A long time feeling that the Best already happened. That is a very grey thought. For replacing the grey with color, with the help of Hubble, opening the possibility, for providing substance to blind faith, I have him to thank. No matter which way it plays out between us, He was the spark. The glimmer of life after. The opening through dark clouds. Seeking that, making steps forward instead of merely saying that is the end goal, is what I am going to focus on for the next 6 months. While the powers that be work out where I will work, which will determine where I live. And how this ultimately ends, or better said, what the next chapter holds…
In my heart, I believe that it will be that Condo on the Beach in Hanalei, where the Magic lies in the Music, not with Puff. And in the Sea. And in the Music at Sunset. And burying Toes in the hot sand at mid-day. In turtles that Stay and Play. In Whales that jump and hop across waves and Seals that warm their bellies in the hot sand when the Arctic Current overtakes warm southern flows and winter’s darkness turns divers into surfers. Where yellowtail is abundant as popcorn, and lobster dinner is ours for the taking. In between there is NorthYankett City, San Francisco, New Orleans, Savannah, Charleston, Nashville, Memphis, New Zealand, Australia and tiny little islands throughout the South Pacific diving all day, laughing all night. Maybe Greece. For I’m still saving that for my Honeymoon.
Ironically I’m realizing that while RAF is here to help me, and he did, but what I didn’t understand is that perhaps I too am here to help him. Funny that. The way the Universe works. Who knew? To catapult RAF from the Beach at Sunset into the bright lights of fame and fortune. Shine the light toward a hit and Stardom. Even if only a One-Hit Wonder, a Shooting Star that burns brightly for an instant still is a Star. That this could produce album after album after album and tour after tour after tour for so many local musicians, I enver envisioned. But seeing the people respond at some of their shows, and watching the number of followers grow and the number of new T-SHrits fill s me with a sense of saistfaction. Now that I’m unable to work, it’d be nice if they threw a little something back my way, but, people are what people are, are they not?
The puzzle of, “Why am I here on this particular island at this particular time” which seem to have everyone asking and perplexed may then be answered. Along the way I showed the small church how they were doing the same thing that they broke from their precursor long ago; even though the first Church was given carte blanche from He who can truly grant it. I reminded some Bureaucrats how to scope, schedule and budget, whether for the benefit of the Corporation, island or national deficit remains to be seen. Maybe I reminded them what equality and fairness in the workplace is intended to be and that a glass ceiling if raised a couple levels higher is still a glass ceiling. And if it only allows those who reflect the prior masculine image and actions, well then, is it really equal and fair? Or Not. Now whether they chose to bury that illustration is on them. And then, because this island laid me up, crippled and needing to stay close to bed, and with COVID got me watching WTFNow News , n I began to play “Sav-Da –Worl” for not much fun no profit maybe I should update this list, 3 years is a lot of saving. But not updating it today. Only God and wheoever picked me for that first contract knows why they brought me here, because clearly, not many want me here, but now that I’m here with my condo near the beach, well. I’m not going nowhere. And whle I’d love it if Raf ever cam home to me, I’m not holding my breath and I gav up thinking he would long ago.
Now that the light appears perhaps to guide, to envision a way through another morass like the one that from the beginning had me wondering why I was here. For nothing had made any sense. But just like I tell my Divemasters who come on the boat and want to ask “WHY” in the midst of a crisis. “Just Do It”. We’ll talk about why later over and burger and

Man, once I started listening to all those sappy love songs carefully, word for word, I started rhyming while I talked. To a beat. I even started writing some of my own lyrics. Too bad I don’t know the notes. Tjough I can hear the music in my head, I can only record words and draw patterns with notes. Little did I know my note patterns were copied into riffs and used in songs all over from reggae to rap to country tunes.  My riffs even took top honors in voice n star contests.  I have the drafts dated, time stamped to prove it. What did I get in return? NOTTA. Dude, I still want my 10%.
Randomly, without trying, eventually Raf and I got to a mutual place, a mutual understanding. Compare the beauty of easily getting to know someone without “dating”. That whole Dating Thing is such a royal pain. Especially in cities. Meet. Decide to exchange Phone Numbers. Wait 2 days. Call. Talk. Repeat. Set Up Dinner. Dinner and Movie. Second Date. Exchange personal information. Yes or No. Decide whether to start dating and get to know each other better from inside a relationship. Now, that doesn’t necessarily mean sex. Once sex starts, well, that’s when most lose all rational thought. Not that many would argue I have much to begin with, especially when it comes to men.  I apparently got stuck in the analysis line for a second helping, only getting leftovers in logic.

This other random, slow way gives one the opportunity to observe and share outside a dating relationship. It adds perspective that lets you look closely at who they are. Or are not. Or maybe not. Maybe in the end, it all just depends on who you find, not how. On their true motives. How long they can cover up the bad habits and how long they can continue with the good things that drew you to them in the first place, and vice versa. Together you might be ready when the first test of stress and duress hits. HIT IT Will. The question of relationship success is how together you handle stress tests. If you can’t handle that together, with consideration, giving the other the opportunity to explain, to share, to talk, well then it’ll fall apart eventually anyway, unless each had lived in a vacuum up to the moment they met.

Funny, in retrospect, editing that section, makes me laugh.  So easy to write that, yet how it all changed once my emotions deepened. His deepened too, even without sex. JEEPERS. Later Jealousy and frustration demo’d to a level I’d never seen anyone hit before.  Then later it hit me at a level I never experienced before. I flew off the handle in the biggest word bloodbath. Like the one last night over another lack of dinner offer. I don’t even understand how that happens. I’m guessing his reaction was probably a novelty for him too. Words, experience, changes things. Does it change that I love him? No, its because I love him so much and that this situation has been so frustrating, knowing the feelings are real, yet nothing ever comes of it.  You wonder, is he just that good of a player? He comes around again all sweet singing Sappy happy loves songs that are my favorite. I fall and melt like ice cream on a Hot 4th of July sidewalk until he puts the whole world, his family and the dirty dishes ahead of me.  I lost my last nerve. He repeats. I finally quit. Gotta wonder why he plays with me like that.

Next FRIGID pops up on WTFNow about me on many fronts driving me  around the last bend headlong into that dam brick wall at high speeds AGAIN. Round and round we go, whether MISCOMMUNICATION or intentional deflection, I will NEVER KNOW. Even if we married, which I won’t. I’d never know what to believe about him and his motivation.

All that still bumps back into double standards of olde, control and effects of gossip and innuendo. Damning by False Comparison. After the fact set-ups to say, see she was like this all along. As If a subsequent reaction is not colored by the prior acts of abuse torture and games. Nothing further from the truth.  I had no such attitude at the onset; however tgat bad behavior characterized those controlling my crucifixion, They sat there with long voodoo needles, poking the doll in the right place. They’ve used this tar n feather, torch the body, take-no-prisoners, mobsts tactics many times before. So practiced are they. Does the word UPPITY ring a bell? Or should I say, dog whistle? It’s a well-primed fire waiting for the right person to light the tiki torch explosion.  And all the other BS that comes along with such explosions.

This tiki torch con manifested better into the next generation, applied to one-on-one male-female domination. Thankfully, the ME TOO Movement limited such successes changing societal behavioral norms. Should we better call that 10,000 years of cavemen tactics?  Enuf Said. Unfortunately, its application to only one side of the gender aisle leaves a gaping hole tearing into the core fabric of democracy on so many levels. 10,000 years of gender inequitable action is a tough bias to erase.  Look at the surge of Sharia Law outside the dim corners of the MidEast rearing it’s ugly head in civilized nations dragging us back to days when Cavemen dragged women off to their caves. Funny. Some men still look to that as the good old days. Sadly, many women brought up in that environment also still caught in that trap. Once youve mastered any situation few like to grow into a new approach.  Bias again overtly surfaces, easily expressed following a couple decades of political correctness during which abuses were just hidden, whether in the workplace or the bedroom.

“Prentice, I don’t get it. How that is you 30-somethings are so much easier to get along with? Strong women don’t scare you away?”
“Sparkles, we all grew up with moms like you. Without dads around. When dads did come around, we saw how they treated our Moms. We learned what NOT to do.”
I’m like, “Wow. That’s profound, Prentice. Who knew?” “Sparkles, still can’t believe you stopped paying attention to the world when you moved here. You really should look around more.”

“Gotta tell you Prentice, Sad to say, every time I look around out there, I see no reason to look again. It doesn’t change what I do here daily. The changes out there ain’t pretty. Nothing better near as I can tell. Fear & Greed. Ego & Entitlement. Self over Others. Blatant intimidation with mobsta tactics. It ain’t pretty.” “True That” says Prentice, as we sadly know there’s not much either of us can do except work on our little corner of the world.

Thats funny too, because 3 years now, since COVID, I’ve been following News Events on WTFNow offering my 2 cents worth, providing comments, to give back, no profit coming my way, not even duly entitled benefits. My list of people I tag who integrate my concepts, thoughts, public speaking tips, sports wisdom, and a few other tidbits grows longer each day. Who’d have thunk?

On the other hand, Sadder yet, after coming out the other side of the ME TOO movement, it falsely appeared much of the glass ceiling holding women back or abused lifted. My corporation even advertised how it is an Equal Opportunity Employer. I got news for them. If they believe their own ads, they have no idea of what equal opportunity is. Having lived in places where it exists, This Ain’t IT.  So that too was a ruse of Smoke n Mirrors. Yes, this is my kind voice. If I used the words Dad would use, you’d all run for cover.

The Glass Ceiling was only raised a level or three in certain female-okay’d areas. In many other formerly male dominated profesions,  women are now hired in a bit higher levels, but usually only as a token. Of course there are always exceptions, that DOES NOT, disprove the rule. Sadly, women are NOT treated as a truly collaborative contributor, all too often. Women still are on the receiving end of more demanded for less reward, still made to bear the brunt of abominable behavior on the part of men and women who don’t want the world to change. The ultimate irony? Some women are still as hard on women in the workplace as the alpha males of olde. Some women because there’s only room for one token women in a still male-dominated field, position or level. Some women are just inclined to say, “I got in, you go away.” Many of these abominable practices are disguised under the veil of viable plausible explanations that don’t hold up in the real world with even a peak under the first “Why?” much less on the third “Why”  that usually shatters people’s resolve and ability to maintain a lie. In the end, most plausible reasons offered are not explanations with facts in that particular case that back it up. Instead it is Plausible Deniability, simply excuses as COVER,A to do what was intended from the start, Keep women down and out.   Men doing the discrimination and credit stealing got more sophisticated in the execution, or lack thereof.  Discrimination did not stop, nor did dissing the concept in front of the world while pirating a womans work and contrbution, dressing it up in a slightly diferent package and passing it off as your own. Dude. Seriously , do your own work!

Me? I was dealt a conniving woman who intentionally inflicts harm and sabotages not only you, but on your work. At least until they can discredit you, have you removed, and repackage your work as their own.  So really it’s delay accepting valuable work, take credit, move on up on someone else’s efforts. This woman orders bad sabotage actions, leaving me no alternative but to follow it in front of the Brass or be insubordinate. Now the Brass thinks I’m the problem, as she’s kicking me under the table, slipping me notes.  She of course is backed up by no other than A.H. Bossman who will move up with her. And this is only one of many sabotage efforts that were completely hidden from me.

PRICELESS? The day I overheard them trying to prevent me from taking a class needed for the position, after they stacked excess applications ahead of me. Chickadee is married to a guy in another office. Together they wreaked a whole lotta problems on me, garnering for themselves a whole lotta perks. I’m flabbergasted.  Last laugh was mine when the guys Stateside called them on their timeworn trick. Stateside emailed back they are covering my tuition since I was the only one who had completed all course prerequitses.  YES. Their instructors showcased my knowledge by asking questions only known to those who read the regs.  That was me, Star Student.  These skaliwags pulled this stunt twice.  Second course, the Brass comes into the classroom. Their goal? Paint me incompetent, give excuse to terminate my contract. Instructors again laughed them out of the room. Qualified and competent is not my problem.

This little chickadee who clearly only had the job because of who she knew, qualified and trained in her trade she was not, also waged a Defamation War on me with A.H bossman and hubby.  Shot down in flames. A month later when I unveiled my draft program management plan that revolutionized the entire organization from HEADQUARTERS  TO THE FIELD, chickadee refused to provide comment.  She didn’t have time to read it. LAUGHABLE THAT,  Most of the rare time she was at her desk was spent doing personal business or her nails. NONETHELESS, two weeks after she got my report, her hubby’s office posted excerpts as new requirements in their STANDARD Operating Procedures. Verbatim from chapter in my Program Management Plan.  Much like this book, each chapter was densely packed.  People turn one chapter into a whole book, OR A HUGE PROMOTION.  Meanwhile, I’m working in a protea, problem solving, let’s catch these programs 3 years behind, under executed overbudget, back up to par.  Silly me.  For that I was blackballed.  Who knew these programs were really just intended to support the local economy.  Fine, but at least get productive work n results from it.  Lord, it ain’t rocket science. N where it is, do it better, faster, cheaper.  It is possible, IF YOU TRY. Not these guys. That not among their top 10 objectives.

I cut her slack, thinking she only had a minor role in the discriminatory harassment levied against me and so many other Stateside predecessors, so adept was she at hiding behind the 2 men and her hubby.  She only received Honorable mentioned in the complaint that was my only remaining option, after being blackballed from 300 resumes I submitted. Besides time wasted  dealing with effects of their harassment and hostile treatment left me no time to learn WHO put her and her hubby into their PowerPol positions.  What Supreme leader came from these remote islands.  this sort of cutthroat delay distract deny steal is the ultimate waste of corporate funds time n resources.  Multiply that across a nation, then look at national debt.  Kinda explains the difference tween want is and what should be, a gap making the Grand Canyon appear a divot on an Arnold Palmer Golf Course!

 Imagine my chagrin 4 years later when I see her frowning face behind one of 700 stunguns hitting me on the waterfront promenade.  There she is, with her favorite baby boy who she put into his daddy’s office. Its only then that I understood the link that was between the first contract and the second. Lord, had I just taken action then instead of giving her the benefit of the doubt, maybe I’d still be walking, working, and NOT suffering from these continuing BuzzZapping Head Pangs and Debilitation that meets all the criteria o the Dreaded, highly cast into disperiosn, Havana Syndrome. This egregious attack on sensibilities n civil rights is often deployed by the Militaristic Pharisees against the few employees and contractors who uphold regulations instead of looking the other way or actively fudging outcome, for a carrot or absence of a stick. The enormity of that is still sinking in. Has it unfroze my benefits, lost wage compensation, discrimination and harassment complaints? Freed up my retirement?  Nope still 00 for 24 months. Still $113.68 out of $51,700 out of pocket medical expnses reimbursed. Still crippled. Still Incapacitated. Little solace is there to more fully understand the root source. Interstingly enough, I’m less pissed, less in turmoil what to do about it. For whether dealing with bullies, terrorists, or abusers of power whose only interest is self, who continually raid, rape, pillage, plunder and hide behind under and within their staff or their constituency, the people they are supposed to serve are instead used as cover for the unqualified’s ‘dastardly graft, grift, corruption and kickbacks. Thank God her mother didn’t win her race for Grand Poobah of our little island enclave. Turns out her daddy was ousted in scandal from that slot 10 or 15 years ago.

Now too, the mailbox theft and postal interference makes sense. REMINESCENT of that June day when at our daily group lunch broached the topic of mail scandal where Police Chief and Lead Island Attorney elected officials, had cooked up a scheme to send legal drugs down island in return for illegal drugs on the trip back. Now I’d love to know whether guns went along too, for somehow underneath all these schemes guns seem to fall. Speaking of fall. My eyes are burning and falling asleep, even though I was wide awake before. Did I keep my window too open too long when I smelled something funny coming in from the hall? Did something funny come in through the window too? Is that why Rehab moved to a very unusual spot on the floor? At least I already tweeted something like this, so my last tweet will tell the story, now won’t it. For my tongue is thickening. My throat seems to be closing. Anyway, transport mechanisms never identified. Wonder why the court case was silent on that? Coulda shoulda gotten some people off the hook.  Maybe it did and thats why THE silence on transport mechanism. Wonder what that cost? The coverup I mean, not the fee for service.
Was it all a waste? The personal sacrifices I made to help other women? Each hit I took in each of the Battles I waged for equal treatment and consideration of women. I dunno, for the pendulum always swings swings back taking out movers and shakers on each advance. My rocket rise based on ability certainly was dismantled because I stopped to help others along the way, but then if it hadn’t been interrupted, I’d never left for the Caribbean. Who knows how life would have turned out or how that would have affected the ultimate decision when I arrive at the Pearly Gates? Dude on the other hand, the inexplicable delay with the second day of the Israeli-Hamas prisoner Hostage Swap just broke. Wonder if my benefits just got cleared?  Nope, but that’s when the poison started coming.  White powder in the air conditioning. Caked on clothes, body, hair. EVERYWHERE. Had to evacuate. A year later? Still happening. Meanwhile these stories mined n movies made off my torture.  my receipts? Another year older Deeper in debt, alone, no prospect for turnaround or return to a more distant pleasant past or brighter unseen future. 

Reading this still unpublished torture saga a year later, I see how AS I WAS EDITING HOW IT ALL BEGAN, even through the veil of poison n electrozapping, I was recording events and understanding it came to me.  No wonder the outcome. A year on the run tryna fight the Deep State Big Sis Big Bro apparatus, only to learn I’m one of millions so abused n tortured. INCLUDING the mutiny n removal of Biden from the Dem Presidential Ticket.  ZOWIE.  YOUSA.  WOW.  Thus the mass mandate in the November 2024 election.  Hopefully with the new election, this torture n waste will end. for the U.S. 

For me? Highly unlikely.  Blackballed n broken.  Delusional. No help coming. Anyone, scratch that, everyone who tries gets the choice, “Step aside. Which you prefer the carrot or the stick?”  O is there?  Dude coming or more thwarted attemptst everywhere? No I’m not holding my breath either.

My ultimate objective? A society where everyone has a fair shake. Opportunity based on fair and equitable competition no matter race, gender, religion or other surficial distinction. Such distinctions are irrelevant. But then this ain’t Heaven, its only paradise infested with a den of White Collar Iniquity that makes the gangstas in Pirates Blight look like Choir Boys. Dam these guys will stoop into the b

Bowels of the Universe, bathe with the bacteria on the amoeba on the pond scum. I didnt realize that the sword is double edged and cuts both ways. In the end, there are good and bad in every category. Some women take that take one hand up and stab you in the back with the other. Who knew?
For me it simply comes down to this. I don’t care if you are pink with purple polka dots. I, like the Blue Tang, only care which team you play for, the Angels or the Devil Rays. You cannot play for both. The game, the struggle for the eternal soul, is one place that charm, charisma, underhanded dirty dealings and smear campaigns cannot offset what is. This is one game where you cannot step on the line, over the line, draw your own line or skip around the line like a frog in hot water. The line for this ultimate game is drawn and enforced by a higher power.

The fight of Good .vs. Evil, although influenced by the external, truly is an internal battle in each person to balance the good and evil within. Each person has a sliding percentage of both inside. No one is perfect. Let he who is free from defect cast the first stone. Simply, those in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. We are all works in progress. It only matters which team you play for. How often you fail to comply with team rules. If you foul out too many times in this game, you are clearly on the wrong team. The ultimate irony is that I failed to take into consideration in my long ago youthful exuberant, ready to change the world day, this starkly dismal fact: What happens when the one picking the teams is picking equally, except that rather than picking the good, the ethical, they are picking those who will go along with rule breaking for personal power and gain. Who will silently support bad actions? Who will look the other way? Who will NOT say that the Emperor wears no clothes? Who will NOT talk about the Elephant in the Room? For these too can be found in every color, gender, religion, and race. That thought never even crossed my mind, or likely most of the 330,000,000 in America.
Shall we agree to leave out the judgment of which is worse? To have sacrificed much of my own quality of life and many perks and norms of life to fight for equality. Where did this come from, Grandma saying 10,000 times, WHICH IS WHAT IT TOOK TO OVERCOME YEARS OF CONDITIONING THAT THERE IS NOTHING LITTLE GIRLS CAN’TDO IN THIS WORLD, Girls can do anything boys can do, Girls can do anything better than boys. Ironically, watching Phyllis George, The former Miss America doing the incredibly fun and engaging in good spirit competition of women and men in “Battle of the Sexes” every Sunday morning as i set Grandmas house for Sunday dinner, it too gave one hope that women could come into their own and actually live as an equal on this planet, not merely as chattel, except if you lucky enough to be the only heir left for the throne or otherwise born with a sterling silverspoon in your mouth. For the rest of us, our options? Loveless marriage, the convent, teaching, librarian, nursing, or servitude as a governess maid or housekeeper. What horrible choices. Not that any ony of those things is inherenetly good or bad, but that you are limited to these option is a travesty. So every Sunday morning before football while Grandma and Grandpa were at Church, and I was setting up the house for Sunday Dinner I watched the amazingly beautiful, graceful, yet equality minded Phyllis George and believed that I too could do what she had done. Bridge the gap between beauty queen and equality. So I too always tried to pass the torch, having been so inspired. Sadly, now I see that expanded team selection simply increased the number of participants on either side of Good and Evil. It has nothing to do with gender. There are some women who are worse than some men, and vice versa.
The economic hit was also completely unexpected. Just like any other wealth pool, a second income started out as the ticket to wealth when most families lived on one income. Having two work in so many familiies just drove up the cost of everything. So now in most families two must work. Even with 2 working 2 jobs, still their kids come out with a college debt, but now that’s 10 times what it was before those with a second income started sending their kids to college easily and “College Mutual Funds” were created. Now two must toil hard for the quality of life that before one working could sustain for a family. Children grow up in nursery schools, with no one to teach them Bible Stories, or how to believe in something Greater than Oneself, or that the Father Up Above is looking down with Love and will always, always, always send you an angel when you are in need. If you believe.
Yes, Preacher Man, God has 8 Billion on earth to pick from and even more when you factor in Heavenly Angels. It only takes ONE. One David. One Daniel. One Musician. One Sports SuperStar. One little Girl. One Grandpa. One Daddy.  One kitten. One Enforcer acting outside his Norm. One blue-eyed blond heartbreaker. One Choir Boy. One Knight in Shining Armor. Together we make a team that wins NOT only Olympic Gold, for that will tarnish, or be stolen. YES THIS WRITTEN IN 2023 IS HIGHLY GOOSEBUMPS PRODUCEING IS IT NOT? No, this is the team playing for Heavenly Gold that will not tarnish. That cannot be stolen. Where sacrifice is more meaningful because the reward is NOT instant gratification. In fact, you can’t even see this gold, except for knowing somewhere deep inside you that it exists. That it is more right, more likely than the alternative, “Every man for himself. Grab the Gold at any cost, Sell Anyone Out.” The value of a life? Zero. Unless it is mine. Even if they don’t make the right play every day. Even if they only do it at just the right time.

What Good is Gold? Gold can’t keep you warm at night. Gold can’t look you in the eye and say, “I Got You. I’m here. I’m not going nowhere. I’ll Stand By You. Stand With You. Together we will win this gruesome fight. All these people are not necessarily mostly good most of the time. Yes, these players come from the ranks of all types, sometimes not even knowing the role they play in another’s win. Found in bars, or the beach, where some find Jesus turning water into wine, and some find heaven in the waves and the sea turtles. Where sharks are easier to identify.

Yes. I think that is the greatest disappointment of all. All was for naught. Except possibly to prove which team I play for, which is what truly matters in life. Hopefully I’ve helped some along the way find their way to this side. To find a better place. And to give a few before deemed hopeless the opportunity to see that there is always hope. There is always the glimmer in each soul, no matter how apparently lost, of the possibility that he, or she, too can rise to the occasion.  Crazy though, I never needed to get by beforeit was spirit shattering to ask thousands and be refused by all. installment that is the next installment in Sterling’s Journey.

CHAPTER 13
REDO DYLAN, MAKE A MILLION!
Wagon Wheel. Dylan. I’d watch out for that guy. “I’m here for a beer and to listen to some Music.” Says this guy to the Hostess as he walks in. He looks like Kevin, my college dormmate’s boyfriend. Longish brown curly hair. Built like a second baseman. Way too comfortable in his own skin. He sits at a table across from me. Pretty much stares right at me. This cafe barely has a bar. Clientele is tourists and families coming to dine. This guy, can’t call him Dude. Maybe can call him “Sport” walks in. In sweats? After 5 hot guys practically sat on my lap Sunday? I hadn’t seen this many single white guys in total since I got on island 9 months ago. Until now, I’ve seen mostly couples. The few singles aren’t interested in an older white woman from the Continent on this South China Sea Island.
Sunday, the first of 5 young hot white guys walks up and stands in the space next to me where normally there’s a chair. I notice a chair is missing when I walk up. It strikes me as odd. Normally, bars don’t remove a seat during Prime Time. Sunday Afternoon Music in this place is definitely Prime Time. All becomes part of a disturbingly recognizable pattern over the next few months. One chair open, right next to someone who doesn’t look like they fit, certainly isn’t always there, who has a very specific slate of questions to interrogate me with. Today’s missing chair is a precursor to many strange coincidences. 4 more single white guys come up one by one, stand by me (not in the good way), give me the look, and wait for me to engage. I don’t take any of them up on their offers, but they do give it a valiant effort.
First comes the blond charmer with curly blond hair. Cornflower blue t-shirt to match his cornflower blue eyes. Only the sides of his head are shaved, so his curls are only on top, easily concealed by a hat. He walks up like Casey At Bat. By his strut, you can tell he never strikes out. First, he acts like I’m not there. Then, he casually turns as the bartender asks him what he wants, I mean, really, what guy doesn’t order his own favorite beer? Gay or straight.  He turns to me and says, “I’ll have what she’s having.” I look at him like he’s 2 and just ordered cotton candy. “Um, this is, uh, Miller Lite.” “Oh, the Champagne of Beer?” He asks. “I’m like, no, that’s Miller High Life, I believe.” “Would you like another?” Me: “No, I’m good. I just have one while I wait for my boyfriend to get done working.” He walks away.
Next. Cute smiling guy, brown curls. He’s laughing to himself as he walks up. “Michele?” He says to me. “Uh, no. I’m Nicole.” That’s my bar name when I don’t want to give my real name since my first night at a bar, so like 5 years now. He comes up with a ludicrous, “You’re the image of someone I went to school with.” I&rsquo

I’mlike, “But you’re half my age. How could we have gone to school together” “No way”, he says, his nose growing. “You look just like her.” I’m like, “Does this tack usually work on women?” “Yeah.”He says with a straight face. I’m like, “REALLY?? Look, I’m just hear to listen to the music. Let me get back to it.”
Next. Chubby guy, completely non-threatening, but he’s funny. Prolly a lot of fun too. He walks up, “Have you seen my buddy?” “I’ll bite: I say. “Whats your buddy look like?” He stammers, “Uh, uh, well, uh well.”  I’m like, “Nope. Haven’t seen anyone that looks like that.” I turn away feeling like im swinging a bat with 107mph pitches coming in.   But I’m going down swinging. He stands there for a few more minutes, then leaves the bar. They all leave the bar. Its not like they were there waiting for someone. Once I don’t bite, they leave the area.
Next. Guy walks up, “I can’t believe my girl dumped me. She came home with (some STD). so hes says, “I say it’ll be okay, we’ll get through it together. Then she dumps me.” I’m like, “Maybe she wanted you to do the hard work and do the breaking up?” He’s like, “I was going for some sympathy.”  Not impressed, I’m like, “Dad always told me you can find sympathy in the dictionary between SH*T and Syphilis.” He just looks at me. Cries and whines a bit. Then after using an STD as a pick-up line, he asks me if i wanna go back to his place. It’s only a mile up the hill. I’m like,

“I’m good here.”  He’s like, “Good-looking”‘m like, Let me get back to the music.” This one doesn’t stop. Finally, my musician friend takes a break. Comes over. Puts his arm around me. I give him a hug. A soft kiss on the cheek and say. “Fabulous Set.” He blushes and smiles. He’s the best Wing Man EVER! Turns out later he’s also good at knocking down anyone interested in me, not that he goes there himself. ANNOYING! Dude apparently knows him, “So she’s yours?” Murmurs something else and finally walks away. To RAF I say, “Can you believe he used an STD as a pick-up line? That his girlfriend came home with one? It’s been Grand Central Station over here.” RAF not too pleased, says, “I saw. Thought I’d take a break and bail you out.” I give him another hug. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Nother single guy walks up, “Oh, she’s with you. I was waiting for that spot to open up, but then you took a break. You spending the night on this side of the island tonight?” RAF says, “No, I got another gig across town.” Dude’s like, “Oh, next week will be the overnight then?” Annoyance got the best of me.  I jump in, “Dude, I’m right here. Please stop talking like I’m not a person.” They both step back a little bit, but dam I hate it when people talk about me like I can’t hear them. RAF’s like “Break’s over.” “I’m like, “Guess, that’s that.” But he gets up and first song is Elvis “Wise Men Say, Only Fools Rush In, And I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You.” I just laugh and smile.
That’s when the last drunk guy comes up, “If you’re looking for a party, its at my house. That guitar player doesn’t know how to have a good time, I’ll show you one.” I just look straight ahead like I don’t hear him. He literally moves around me to stand in front of my face and says it again. I’m like, “I heard you the first time. I’m not looking for a party.”  He’s like, “Your problem is you’re frigid.” I’m like, “My problem is you. Look I’m just here to listen to the music. Please go away. I’m not going to your place.” Of course Male Ego kicks in.  Some guys just can’t accept a woman isn’t into them, so if she shoots him down, she must be gay. No, I don’t mean happy. “Do you prefer women?” he comes back. I don’t even dignify that with a response.

So the next week, they send 3 sets of women. Equally contrived lack of conversations and ridulus statements that if are an indication of what pass for bar talk these days boggles my mind. There has to be some level of talk. I’m happy to spend most of the day in bed together, but you gotta be able to talk and laugh too. The last 2 women actually sit on either side of me, and eventually invite me back to their apartment. I extricate myself and move to another seat.
Protect your imagination. The 4 months earlier, my life had been the same. Please don’t confuse SAME with BAD or BORING. It’s actually wonderful. I’m feeling alive. I’m having fun. It’s summer. The waters warm. I found favorite snorkeling spots. I’m swimming with turtles a couple times a week, even swam with a Manta Ray. The coup de gras? Finally. All those nights looking. All those sappy songs in the Key of G. I find a Favorite Musician. He even replaces Reed. I never though anyone would. He plays 2 or 3 nights a week at a time that works for me. I go listen as often as I can.
Company visits from the States. We island hop to Palau for a short dive trip. Work settles down. I’m working on something apart from THE ABUSER assignments since he’s thankfully been out of the office for 2 months. That’s good. I finish all required training, so I have the 20 hours a week I spent after hours doing computer training. I figured brushing up on all the latest nuances is the best way to eliminate the excuse, “You’ve been out of this kind of work for too long. Your experience is old.” 300 training hours in 5 months. Now that I hit the major topics, I choose to knock program management plan out in record time. Then, I’d have something to put on my resume. As my first and best boss always used to say, “Punch my Get-out-of-Jail-Free Card, My Ticket out of this Mickey Mouse Place.
Except this place is anything but Mickey Mouse. No no no no non o no. This is a place that would make “Bond. James Bond” a tad bit nervous. If there’s one thing I’m not, its James Bond or even one lesser known. Despite what apparently half the island thinks. And the other half? Well, Not sure I want to know what they think. Didn’t occur to me they might think me a narc, or there to make cash by selling something other than drinks across the bar. That old First Profession in the World Thing. Either way, I’m the ideal decoy, and these Bastads got no qualms about using me, or anyone else, for whatever game they are playing. Which is fine, until my personal safety and health becomes fair game. Silence then. On your own. None had qualms stealing ideas either, then killing the golden idea goose. I’ve never seen anything like it. Was it always like this here? Is it this bad Stateside now too? Judging by the news, I’d say, yes. The corporate workplace has turned into a blackmail, extort, sue, bully your way onward and upward.
BuzzZapping Head Pangs and Debilitation in my head is back again. It was nice the past few hours without it. Wonder if they put it on a timer now or something. Maybe it’s linked to logging on, now that Microsoft 365 confiscated this manuscript. I waited for an old manual copy of Word to finish the other 2 novels. Somehow 365 opened this one. Still not sure how, and now I can’t bring back to the old version. Soon I’ll switch to publishing software. This is annoying. Whites and blanks out every few minutes. Computer on airplane mode. That should block outside access to all my content, but does it?
Reminds me of something Preacher Man used to say, “Brooke, you are the most misunderstood woman in Pirate’s Blight. If they only could see the Heart of Gold you have. You’ve hidden it away in there, buried it so deep that people in China are more likely to see it than anyone here. I don’t know what to tell you. They never gave you a chance. Arenn’t about to start now.”Pretty Much Sums It Up. OMG is that really gonna be the story of my life? When am I gonna get a rest? Give it a Break Man. Way too many years of this NONSENSE. Can life just please, please, pause for a minute so I can catch my breath?
Well, thats what that 4 months is. A pause to catch my breath. A glorious, loving, fun-filled, relaxing pause. Going out is the same. Empty Seats on both sides of me, or a quick stop with a small dose of casual conversation here and there for a few minutes as tourists come in from the beach, stop for a happy hour drink on their way upstairs to get cleaned up for dinner. Man there’s. a ton of amazing restaurants, everyy cuisine imaginable. Abundant Fresh Fish and Fresh Veggies. Heaven on Earth especially after years of the same 10 menus with the same food from the same Purveyors. The only thing distinguish restaurants on Pirates Blight from each other is the Chef’s; creative talents crafting Special Sauces. “Oh, how Americans Love Their Sauces.”  is a familiar chant.  “Is ketchup a sauce?”, I often wonder
Staying home is the same. Sleep is the same. Work is the same. Play is the same. I’m enjoying life. Finally. Again. Catching my breath 2 years after the Hurricanes knocked it out of me when I landed flat on my back. Lifes good. And then its NOT. Suddenly. Life Abruptly Changes. I’m not talking about “While you make plans, hear God laughing.” kind of life changes. I’m not even making plans. First time ever. Not plans beyond what night RAF plays and how I fit that into my after-hours work schedule. I’m just catching my breath. Reaching out to some peeps from the old days. Touching base as much as my homesickness and angst allows.
No. I’m talking more like one day you’re walking around in a life of normal. Get up. Shower. Go to Work. Pay Bills. Run errands without even noticing the people around you because it’s different people every day. Rarely does anyone approach me, though I still mostly “Got It” or did before the last 3 years of hellish torture and inactivity, my version of of “IT” isn’t  much in demand on this island. Funny that. It never is. What’s up with that?” Listen to my favorite songs. Talk to my family n friends on the phone without even thinking about the possibility that someone is tapping in. Loving the drive to the beach in my convertible. Soak in the sun; swim with turtles in the pretty blue water. My little emerald green Mustang with bluish sparkles that match diamonds glistening off the water with a rhythm set to my favorite song, “Darlin yore my Angel”; A song that’s been my anchor and sound of freedom, my song of contentedness at the end of a good challenging, well-executed day or my focal point in prepping for the day. Mistakes in SCUBA Diving mean someone can die. Or injured for life. NOT ON MY WATCH. Too bad the powers here don’t subscribe to the same theory. Crazy it is how little they value others lives and freedom in this militaristic controlled society where being the Chain of Command in a top down world, NOT A CONVERTIBLE, is all that matters.
So I learn to watch. I watch my surroundings closely for differences. Like those 6 30-somethings coming up without nary an interest in me. Like that old pattern panorama when Newspapers printed Sunday Comics in color. The back page had 2 pictures that look the same at first glance. Under the surface, the differences are many. Underwater is like that, too. I watch how big and fast divers’ bubbles appear. I watch the size of divers’ eyes through their masks. I look to see if anyone is breathing though their nose which will cause their mask to slip and float up. The last thing you want underwater, or on the surface getting back to the boat, is someone without a mask. That turns into PANIC. So many things I watch. The water looks like a field of blue up top. Beneath the surface is an entire world with its own version of undersea flowers, trees, animals, mountains, valleys and pretty fish, along with those dam nasty sharks and barracudas. Only barracudas aren’t nasty at all. Its simply another charade that only those who look closely for a time can figure out. If you watch the fish, they know. They don’t act differently when a barracuda swims up. When a shark enters the area, all the fish disappear. They hide until the shark exits stage left and the waters vibration returns to normal. Then suddenly they all pop back out, matching the flow of the water in unisom. Surfaces up top conceal much of the underside. I’m using that “What is different in this picture?” skill set now at the bar. Who’d have thunk?
There are definitely changes in what happens when I’m out. And that was before the BuzzZapping Head Pangs and Debilitation started when I got the manuscript back, and a year later went from 10 on a scale of 10 to 20 on a scale of 10 when I made that call enquiring about whether my symptoms reflect those of the Class Action Lawsuit related to a fuel-water contamination of a local public water delivery system that that I heard on the radio, coincidentally on 911 in near Emerald Bay. And the changes in my surroundings correlate to certain timelines and occurrences at work. And this is before the changes got intolerable. This is written back on my first contract, land, not water-based that got me to the island, so water guys, Stand Down. Dis ain’t about you, unless you make it so. Stop hurting me, my cat, and my favorite everything’s. We have enough hostility and intimidation in this world without US entities conducting assaults that would be deemed Geneva Convention War Crimes if implemented on Prisoners of War, and you are deploying these tactics on US citizens by the depth bereath and perfect execution, its obvious I am not your first rodeo. I don’t  know what’s worse, Corporation Violations or Authorities’ Failure to Enforce so Violations continue. Its as defunct as the UN.  I don’t know why you’d  remove the best Negotiated Treaty in History that kept the world safe for what, 60 or 70 years until someone falls asleep at the switch, stuffs their pockets with money from missile sales and blows an 80 year lead? I think I was wrong. Failure to enforce for too long, for good men to look away, has led to so many abusers, failure to enforce is equivalent of no rules, isn’t it? Are those rules actually keeping people safe anywhere in the world anymore?

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