A Good Attitude vs. A Bad Attitude ...
There is you absent minded others, and there is you thinking of others. Its been my experience that when around others, they step out of their shells, to say something, whether or not relevant to me, about themselves, that they think will help others. Whether or not that’s your problem, that’s how you get treated lets say for instance in IOP, someone with an issue of self-harming and thinking songs were about him an ex-model, and when we were asked to pick a song for the counselor to play another picked a song for me “You Need to Calm Down” by Taylor Swift. At the time I am kind to everyone, never assuming anything to be about me. That would be assuming that people know me, and just to make sure am now online, with a better grasp of the issues. When you appear in DC, all records are reviewed with or without your permissions, why: (1) souveneirs were bought (2) why an itinerary was made to visit SCOTUS (3) why a bedside collage of souveneirs were made around a telephone, (4) why one shouted in the street in DC “F-K” and the DC Police told me to “calm down,” (5) why CU Buffs was written in the snow in the sidewalk by me, then rubbed out by the time I returned, (6) why I was told about the MLK Memorial and driven there by a Taxi Driver who told me “you live by the gun you die by the gun,” (7) why I sat outside Barack Obamas house, and later (8) smashed my matching Marc Jacobs watch gifted to Sydney into the sidewalk 200 yards from his home, and (9) why the barback was humping the bartender in front of me at the bar, then left and stood on a yellow dot and called 911 to report them, my first report, and (10) why a cab never arrived to pick me up from Harry’s apartment so I walked home back to my hotel room, (11) why an invitation to Barack Obama’s inauguration was sent to my hotel room and a bottle of wine, (12) why the speakers were not on during the Inauguration and the gate I was directed to was blocked by a crowd of people no one going in, so I (13) walked around the perimeter in an FBI DC hat, and a soldier by the tanks saw me and told me he liked my hat listening to Nas, (14) why I walked into the FBIDC Office to make a report about a Privacy concern and also asked if I wanted to apply who should I contact and was given a business card, I have already been screened by the FBI was given clearance to work for the Government 2008, (15) why I walked the US House of Representatives and signed every book that was out with my information, (16) why I took a picture of myself on an airplane, and (16) why I went back to SCOTUS in the snow and took a picture of myself in the lunch room with no people around another day, (17) why a box was made of every important document concerning my medical history and education and writing samples and free writing a book about my High School experience and recollections up until that moment and prior to attending Law School, which was USPS’d to SCOTUS, stamped, then USPS to California Supreme Court, stamped, the USPS’d to Attorney John Sifton from HRW. Then I remembered, upon moving boxes into storage, and organizing my notes downstairs all my files where in my Brother’s room, and pulled some of my best work handwritten that went missing upon being found and placed on my desk, not scanned or saved by me elsewhere, and was screamed at by my ex while moving boxes, asking me what I was doing. Then (18) went to the bar alone a few times to drink and made two friends I stayed in touch with over the years, and another who did not contact me afterward, prior to which (19) I made videos in my car after drinking, speaking emotionally that “of course I care” even though I was not pretty because I was drinking, talking to no one, just my phone, then (20) met someone who I did not date, met in the daytime, prior to driving to Palo Alto and Las Vegas alone, to get away, and visit towns I have one not been to, stopped by Steve Job’s house, and stayed at a nice hotel I did not walk to from a party in Las Vegas 2008, because I didn’t want to afterparty and do drugs or drink more, and carried my heels crying in a casino and couldn’t find my boyfriend, who was in bed sleeping by the time I got to the room, then (21) in February still going through a breakup while my Ex was applying to the DA’s office and didn’t get the job, figured that I was the problem and left him and he got a job up North and in Texas, and now in LA, (22) I was interrupted writing in my phone, to talk to someone seated to my right at the corner of the bar, who was initially tough toward me because I shrugged him off, did not want to talk to anyone, told him “I was going through a breakup,” and then was hospitalized February 2013 I don’t remember how I got there, I just remember them opening up a box of cigarettes that were shared and no one visited me and don’t remember leaving, (23) then I searched my closet, and found a Lakers Bag gym backpack free, that had the pieces to a Poster that was torn down by me from Wilshire, and later moved close by, after delivering my box to the Federal Building and walked back to my car with it, told not to leave it, and later submitted the pieces to the Poster which was a painting of Barack Obama I thought offensive, a photo of the painting was saved in my phone after tearing down the poster, and gave them my phone number in a plastic bag, and that was the same time period a suitcase from DC went missing, my coat went missing, my notes went missing, and a small kitchen knife with the tip broken off was put in a hole puncher box 2010 while living in Marina Del Rey, and was told “Marta broke the knife” when asked how the knife broke, in the dish washer, I took from the house on Leonard Road, and during that move lost a box of important things, I made sticker labels for all the boxes, my Windward diploma, and a sketch book my counsin made as a Bat-Mitzvah present. That’s being paranoid, assembling something in private that if found would look suspicious to someone else, not expecting to see that, in my “Lesley bag” gifted to me by my Godparents nanny who was English, they used to live off of Bentley where the Bauers lived. -Meanwhile, all the while CBS Movies was now across the street, from the bar where I last saw Navid, who I was told died of Schizophrenia, and then later told was doing drugs at the time of his death by a friend in common Major who dated the daughter of a family who’s Father passed, and she passed was hit by a Police Car in a “silent running drill” and was the Sponsor to my carpool in high school an underclassman, and their Son passed of Suicide (who I did not accept a friend request from on Facebook, Im not sure if he was the guy in an argyle sweater at my friend Lindsay’s birthday party at Macai (a bar my best friend Sydney later took me to with her then boyfriend, who I talked ab out nighties with, because we are overweight, and then they took me on a tour of The Paramount Lot, after taking them to two bars in Hollywood “Harvard Stone” where I was arrested on my way home, and a Club a drug dealer took me too, the same night there was a shooting by the Rainbow Room where we almost went), I didn’t talk to him there, went with an underclassman Jules who went to Amherst, I played soccer with in High School, whos Father played for the Dodgers, and moved into an ex-classmates house, from Elementary School, same house different people), who I was told raped my best friend in 5th Grade on an airplane to DC, and cried, while the other friend window seated apologized for not crying or being equally moved about the sharing of her story, which was upon advice asked, when having relationship problems told my best friend to tell him “you don’t know me” and to tell him what you told me, and then their relationship didn’t work out. CBS across the street from the bar I went to alone, and later complained about girls talking s%hit, and then served my check outside and told that I should go home started punching my head. I was seated by the beer drafts, they were seated on the corner to my left, the same place the guy who followed me to my car, talking to me after I left, convinced me to hang out and play a game of “Professional Responsibility” with I didn’t believe him, and there is a game of Professional Responsibility a board game and that was a relief, then he had me pick a movie, I picked “Snatch” and then we hooked up and he spooned me, I threw up in my mouth and ran to the Sink. Backstory: The daughter of CBS, who dated a guy in common to my best friend, recommended that I not speak to someone, I later found out had a friend in common to someone she dated and went to the Suitor’s school, who I was messaging for 8 months April 2016 to January 2017, met November 2015, was in NYC December 2015 running by my Brother’s apartment at the time stayed at the hotel local to his neighborhood, while learning how to build a website, someone I pitched to, who I also sent emails to of all my records, and Twitter archives from December 2011, which was after Rehab Summer 2011 with a job in DC, attended a Women’s Meeting with a Crossroads Sponsor who was given to me after my then Sponsor moved out of State, who I did my 4th Step with, and was recommended to wait a year in the first year of sobriety told not to date. And based upon my thesis sent to him, all my school records, and resume, work history, and after crying outside his house, after pitching a music campaign, and Concert Across America was made, sat on the other side of the wall by the pool crying tears in front of a bouncer who watched me, messaging on my phone, to someone who would not reply to me, nor wanted to attend, dropped a marching poster off at his house afterward. This was after I ran a flyer campaign down Sunset and through Hollywood, “Brady Music Campaign” was later told, to do something general and said “#bloggingcampaign and that was approved over Starbucks, the President of the LA Brady Chapter, sorry for the imposition, Donna Deese, who later added me as a friend on Facebook, managed and founded Concerts Across America, and is the Leader of Million Mom March. I think because I hashtagged them so much, that Moms Demand Action, texted me without signing up to volunteer with them, already having met Brady and after later attending meetings, and was supposed to phone bank, I phone banked once it’s a complicate system, I didn’t understand, and was supposed to be a Data collector of all new volunteers and make a spreadsheet added 2 numbers. I attend Vigils, at a meeting it was discussed to build a better relationship with Brady Campaign another anti-gun violence organization founded by Jim Brady who I found out worked for President Ronald Reagan, who also owned a home in Bel-Air sold, who was seen pictured with Justice Roberts shaking hands, sworn in during his presidency. He took down the Berlin Wall I think. My Mom used to live on “Bulingame” sounds like Berlin Game, on Harvard. And there was a Tinder shop on the corner, and when I moved to that home, given a home all to myself, chose the small room, and made an office with the other room, Bauer had two rooms at his house, the other room was for his Music, drum set etc and Video Games. My crush in College, who was there for me during addiction, told me to stop, then went to Rehab and he got clean from Heroine, for some reason we connected, my last year in College. Hes married now and has a child, very proud of him, he married a former dancer, and lives in Pennsylvania. He was maybe the only friend who texted me while living in Westwood, to check on me. I was on meds at the time, and going through something, and was tweeting, and losing 50lbs, happy. Lesson: If you don’t put things together clearly you get looked at as not as sharp as anyone else, who sees what you’ve been up to, and after reviewing your timeline makes decisions for you, or leads others into assumptions about you in life, and your condition becomes their source of empowerment. My housekeeper who moved me, later got a Divorce and moved back to Mexico, she used to run on San Vicente after work, and packed up my closet living in Marina. When I made an AOL box, everything went missing, and a song was made, talking about someone elses trash is another mans come up, and I just deleted my emails, that wasn’t trash, that was me recording my journey, singing, and maintaining a diary in private, and gave all my passwords to all my accounts to the US Military and to SCOTUS. That’s trying to figure out what went wrong, that’s not me suspecting that other people have done me wrong, that’s being open, that’s not appearing in a way suspect, that gives people the right to search my things in order to better understand where Im at, not trusting me, and taking it upon themselves to decide for me, the direction of my course in life, or what I speak about, as though I would ever be offended by apps, websites, accounts, company names, movies, or songs, and then not stick up for others, or my family, or friends, or subject anyone to harm, including myself. I don’t think that questioning is a condition you can rise above, you can be honest, but that doesn’t mean that others will be more trusting of you, or loving, some deserve love and some don’t, that’s based upon your mental health, whats bothering you, how you are managing your life judged.
There are many pros and cons to blogging:
Proactive attempt at living a life in question.
Managing your moods in a visible space.
Not interfering with the health or privacy of others.
Setting a good example, and being proud of yourself.
Experiencing life out in the open, living a safe life.
Not being viewed as competition, or present difficult concepts.
Not subject myself or others to harm, or embarrassment.
Not intimidate or pose a threat to anyones wealth or decision making practices.
Not being relied upon as a voice of reason, to make promises I cant keep.
People get to things before you.
You may feel slowed down by the energy of others.
You may not be proud of yourself, or viewed favorably.
You can be viewed as the problem, if you appear that way.
No one will want to keep secrets for you, so get your story straight.
People will assume if you are not happy means you are not with the people.
Based upon your connections in life despecialized.
Based upon who you are, not inflate the chests of others, cause depression.
If you appear strong, leave room for annoyance or attentions drawn.
Easily intimidated by others, or made to look foolish or lost.
Be treated as drug addict if you continue to talk, not in an organized way.
Not be respected for your Twitter feed, seen as in avoidance of word count.
Be treated as someone who keeps secrets, and not healthy by being a good person.
Not seen worthy of attentions or looking for attentions, seeking to be known.
Others may have difficulty relating to you, and that’s the difference that can be felt.
Be viewed as a bad influence, given the meds you are on, or whether having attended rehabs.
Seen as a negative influence, or someone with a poor attitude, not deserving of respect.
Being viewed as a lost cause, or someone raising awareness to a cause non-existent.
Not viewing a sense of being put together, or the togetherness of others, as solution.
As seen get minimized to terms, disrespectful of you and your experiences in life.
Seen as excuse, or verbose, without solutions provided of essence to help others move on.
Seen as someone who creates problems based upon their choices made, not apart of.
Then you get tested, to see if you fight, and what is seen now, is not a fight.
This is responding to a fight, and not creating a fight, where none is needed for anyone.
Im the type of person who would rather self-harm, then question of fight with others.
Im the type of person who is aware when others become off, my reports are not validated.
Im the type of person, who complained after a co-worker told me he wrote about “The Armenian Genocide,” and a Science textbook was placed in my cubicle, the after complaining, and not responding to a co-worker who asked me to meet him in an alley downtown, with a friend in common I lost the 9th Grade election to a shorter speech, wrote a letter about my experience after 9/11 a New York experience, that was shared with me by my counsin, what it was like running across the Brooklyn Bridge and what his face was like, who moved to Hawaii. I talked about my Dad crying while watching the towers get hit in NY, with his arms folded. And after Google searching my name, applying for jobs, didn’t get the Government Job told to apply to, after my personal statement was shared, found all the links and articles with my name in it, and cache’d to a deposition, and watched the video of my Dad testifying with his arms folded. And my neighbor, hoped over the balcony fence, and read what I wrote, by candlelight in my apartment in West Hollywood, and asked me who I thought did it, it was about War Overseas.
Originally Posted: 10-19-20
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