Worse Case Scenario

I WAS CRYING SCREAMING BEGGING HIM NOT TO HURT ME....I DID WHAT HE TOLD ME TO....I THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO KILL ME I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE."

This is the sentence that bothered me about this whole sick demented ordeal that this poor unfortunate Columbia Grad Student had to endure. This is a snippet of what could only be called shear, unbriddled brutality unleashed on a human being! This young woman was headed home like so many of us when this monster who was lurking in the lobby followed her, pushed into her apt and kept her hostage while she endured the most heinous acts no human or animal should ever experience. But this should serve as an example of how NOT to end up in a situation like this. There are some key things that this young woman could have done to avoid this. And this is what not to do. Get out of the situation before it escalates! Do no beg do not plead this just gives the sick cowardly bastard more fuel. Evaluate your situation ladies, do NOT enter if you see someone dodgy! You don't have to give a shit about hurt feelings or being politically correct. Always be aware of who is getting off the elevator behind you. These are a few pointers that I thought I might find online to go with this story- but I found nothing, actually really one thing that was useful otherwise basically nothing out there on how anyone should conduct themselves when faced with shear terror.
Why does this constantly happen in the city. Why are women walking around in any neighbourhood totally oblivious to their surroundings and situations!

One More Skeleton

Does a week go by anymore without some new Politician being besmirched - today it was the crusading Governor of NY State! Out - and all for some 4k crotch! Undone by tainted love. Now all he is is a bad punchline - 'Pay For Luv Guv' screamed the Daily News, 'Ho No' was the Posts' eloquent byline and we can go on Lord knows we can. There he was standing delivering some sort of speech, and not a resignation by any standards with wife in tow looking shell shocked and glazed over. She was probably standing there thinking about how to dig a whole, jump in and end up at the South Pole of this planet. His 3 daughters shamed. Forever he will go down in history as the go get em Gov that paid for seedy love. Smutty deed, shoulda known better and disappointing. I can also use another word, hoodwinked! Another narcissist impaled on his own sword of over self importance.

*Sigh*

...Why do they just keep giving me more artillery. It just blipped on my radar - while digging around on Christopher Hitchens; that Billy Graham had quite a few disparaging comments to make about Jews. Now I ask myself - why am I not shocked or why am I a little disgusted. I never really thought of Billy Graham other that he was that ever present Evangelist running around trying to convert everyone into Christianity and eshewing the fabulous virtues and happiness therein. I never thought he was sleazy and I never really thought he was some bastion of greatness. Did I look up to him, probably not. I never really thought of Mr. Graham other than I didn't think it was too cool to be cavorting too much with Presidents and Politicians, them being the sleazy types. He was too glued on to every President, too much up in-it for my liking. What does being seen and photographed with every other President have to do with the teachings of Jesus or Christianity for that matter. Well apparently I had it all wrong. Not only was he cozying up to Presidents but he showed no reserve when displaying his scorching past prejudices as they related to the Jews. Oh we know how Christians love Jews, especially around Easter!

Its a love hate relationship, love them for being God's "special chosen people" and hate them cause they own everything and hell - they killed Jesus. Mr. Graham had no gumption about saying what he REALLY thought about them and the threat they posed. Now I know I'll get the good old, "well put your trust in God not man" and the old, "we're human we make mistakes" but there are certain mistakes we don't and shouldn't make. Mistakes like perhaps breaking and entering someones house and um, lets see; killing them. Mistakes like sitting your allegedly religious and pious behind in the presence of another human being no matter how "great" you think them to be and having a good ole race bashing and mean spirited conversation. I really expect better from someone that would like to consider themselves a leader and an inspiration to many. It makes me realize that none of these people are even experiencing what they teach, they don't even believe their own bullshit. Because if you did, you wouldn't even debase oneself to that level. Again this just shows that most of these so called "leaders" are just out for their own personal gain and to feed their own twisted egos. And I also don't like to be told that I should pay attention to the message and not the messenger. Really, why do I need a fucked up messenger in the first place. I've a brain I can pretty much figure out the message for myself thank you, no need for a tawdry middleman. Why the hell do I need that.

We need to see people like Graham for what they really are, and that is seriously troubled and maybe always in search for something - maybe the meaning of life. And to tell the truth who isn't and in my opinion, not many people - if any have it! Funny, the Grahams are called the "Royal Family" of American religion, isn't that the problem with us, we always need someone to worship, we simply can't connect on a higher level on our own, always need someone to give up the power to.
Click the title for the link to read about this shady guy.

The Phone Call

My husband has been for some time trying to get in contact with an old friend from his home country; a mentor I should say in all the senses of the word. I've listened to many a story as he waxed poetic about the older friend's legacy and the mark that he'd left of my husband. His memories of his friend were legendary. He was an older guy, we not too old but at a time when my husband might've been years 10-13. Him and his group from the Bible School seemed to be of a time that doesn't exist too much in these days. A time when friends were friends, things were simple and life was good, even if it was in a place that was not so so perfect. One could still make do and find comfort and sanctuary in a friendly and happy place. He was on a pedastal in my mind I guess, this individual that loomed van gloriously, I imagined him some sort of a leader, a "head-of" taking charge and taking care of. Making up monies for kids who didn't have enough, extending himself and stepping up to the plate at a time when most young men wouldn't have given the time of day to a Bible anything. After my husband immigrated here and after one more visit back home; that was the last time to reconnect with his friend and that had been about 15 years ago.

The menagerie that I had built in my mind came horrible crashing down after the phone call. Well you see, my husband; after hearing of another one of the group's death; tried desperately to contact his friend. He went to all means, questioned his Grandmother, and everyone that he could think of and then finally after a few months - the number. With heart racing and excitement, I'm sure, he placed the call. After a frustrating few attempts there he was; a voice on the phone, the voice that hadn't been heard for 15 years, a voice bringing back memories and good times. The conversation was a bit halting but progressive as my husband tried to secure the whereabouts of the rest of the members of the group. Where was this one and that but his friend himself hadn't seen certain folks in years, 5 or more. The closeness, the clique the group was all but gone, scattared and living whatever lives were to be lived in this time. His friend the strong and indestructable man I imagined sounded tinny and said that things and times were hard, he now had 2 kids and he was not working due to a recent surgery. There was no real bonding, no sharing of recent life stories, seems like there would be no exchanging of photos, of the memories of recent lives. But nearing the end of the brief conversation there was a burst of "send muh ah raise" I know things are hard in the home country and my husband was extending a helping hand as anyone would. But I guess I was hoping or thinking that a plea would come after another phone call or 2 or maybe if offered denied in pretense politeness. But these are different times and things are not the same.

Desparation has all but trumped dignity and the old country is a place where the drowning are really drowned and clutching at straws is all one can do to stay up against the dragging undertow of crippling poverty and want. I wasn't angry but was just sad that for my husband that a poignent moment was tainted by the harsh and jarring reality of time and change. And change not for the better but somewhat for the worse. It was like I was watching a big strong capable man rendered to his knees eeking out an existance and depending on the charity of anyone. Someone who in my head was a giant, capable, in charge had it all together, a mentor and strong was now on the other end glad to hear an old friend and thankful that he was able to deliver him from hard times even if temporarily. It was sad because it spoke of the times that now where in rigeur, the mood has changed and the fun times are all but gone, survival is the word of the day. The boy that looked up was now being look upon as a provider and the sweet memories and the good times will now forever be stained and bitter sweet.

Size 8

I work with someone who is the complete embodiement of the insecure, self deluded typical american female. This individual has created an enormous castle of lies and has surrounded herself in it. I imagine that in her head she is completely terrified of facing actual reality because if she did, only God knows what would happen. The individual in question stands about 5' 8 or 9" and weighs in at about 180-200 lbs but has completely convinced herself that she is a size 8. Now I don't know why size 8 - well I do know. She is so consumed with not being "the fat girl" that she is holding onto that size 8 for deal life. Size 8 represents a single digit, the "medium" of sizes, it says you're not that big girl, you're not double digit size, God forbid a 10 or 12 or in her words "if I were a 14 I'd kill myself" Size 8 is that perfect figure, not like the other numbers that don't seem to have much symitry. 8 - the same proportion on top as on the bottom. Size 8 - the last size before well, tsk tsk tsk, you better watch it. Size 8 for her is the last straw before fatdom - a fatdom that she so dreads.
Well if she's thinking like that; well then size 8 is her life raft. Her face nearly cracked when she discovered that a someone was a plus size model at a size 8!!! The look on her face was that of shear terror. The sad reality is that she is just around a size 14/16 and its sad that she tries so hard to convince people that she is not. Sometimes I have the overwhelming urge to yell at the top of my lungs - STOP LYING!!!!!! & then NO ONE CARES!!!!!!! No one really does. So on she goes to anyone that will listen, every wedding that must be attended is blabbered about and of course the dress size has to be announced somewhere in the conversation - we all have to know that she is not a fattie, she is a size 8!

Fucking Garbage!!

Monday morning on the #1 train headed uptown. Place NYC, time, 8:10 am and I walk into "fucking asshole - fucking garbage!" 2 Men having a moment over the confines of a subway car seat. Ok, normal I guess just get it off yer chest and move on. The aggressor, a small framed man, maybe 5'4" and weighing in at about 130lbs appeared to be cursing at a business type who quickly moved over and out of the aggressor's personal space. But even with this gesture the aggressor just kept on, "fucking jerk off, garbage, jerk, asshole" the litany of curses kept going, and just when I thought they would stop and it was all over, boom again, out of nowhere, "fucking idiot, jerkoff!" He was totally having a tourettes moment.

Train semi empties at 50th and another unsuspecting business type gets in an has the misfortune of sitting next to the mini nut at which point a reckless, "fucking asshole" flies out of his mouth, but this business type was not going for it. He stood up, all 6 feet of him and punched the poor mini aggressor, to more shouts of "jerk off" and "asshole." He now also added that he had emphysema and that he would stab the business type. Business-type didn't take kindly and proceeded to thrash the mini aggressor with his rolled up newspaper! Well I couldn't stop laughing, it was a most preposterous and comical scene!! This giant thrashing away at an obviously small disturbed man! All to the shouts of his repetitive obscenities. Business-type attempted to kick the mini aggressor off the train but the doors abruptly shut and for one more stop I had the sight of a panting lunatic with some sort of sharp object threatening to stab and saying over and over again, "fucking asshole, fucking garbage!" Then one - "suck my dick!" to which the business-type replied - "if you had one!" And there is where I ended my comedic journey to the echos of "fucking asshole, fucking garbage" as I exited the train.

Life is...

...really a strange path one that has taken many a turn and cycles from the moment I left my comfortable environs in the Caribbean to embark on this American adventure. I came to NYC in 1990 and made a decision to never look back. It was a move that was greatly anticipated, getting out from a smaller island with limited opportunities was key so my mental survival, I just couldn't be there anymore and plus, the course I wanted to study was not offered on the island so off to NYC I went. This was totally wild because I really wanted to go to London, living in NYC was a dream that I thought would never happen but here I was in NY in Queens; more than happy to be mall shopping, hanging out, making use of the super long days and connecting with all my scattered friends.
Well little did I know that my happy would come to a halt as efficient as a car with anti lock brakes. My hosts - one Marcel & Keith were to say the least, neurotic. Dangerously in love with their new house and carpet and dining room and pots and pans and bathroom and, well I could go on and on. I walked into a dominators world. Keith controlled Marcel, the clothes she wore, to how much money was spent to what make up she put on to how everything was basically done and Marcel willingly submitted and obliged to his bullshit. Keith was a piece of work - in a word, an asshole of major proportion. I couldn't open the windows, talk to certain folks on the block. And chores, seems like I couldn't do any of them right. The bathroom - not good enough, the pots - umm little bits of food dried, not good enough. Ooooh I left crumbs on the table and bits on the floor. My room wasn't tidy - hello I'm a college student of 19yrs old having a super tidy room with one tiny closet is not my major priority. I always thought that Keith was jealous of me, jealous that I was going to school, took no shit and I also had a personality that would not be dominated but instead pushed back, and for that he didn't like me and would no sooner love to see the back of me. Every coat I attempted to buy was followed by - "oh yes don't buy x or y because when you go back home" Oh he was in a hurry to have me get the hell out and it wasn't even 2mths yet!!! He was obsessed with his carpet! And would question me on if I was walking over it when I came home from school and no one was around. People were met at the door and he comadered their shoes off! No one dined on the dining table and the home and its contents were basically worshipped. In my opinion, the house wasn't really that great and he always seemed stupid to me. My attitude must have conveyed that because we were frequently at odds. They were constantly calling my mom - collect I might add. To relentlesly complain and Marcel took the helm of her husband's madness. She conveyed and was his mouthpiece. He worked her like a dumb puppet all the while hiding an infedelity so great it would only hit the fan in about 15 years.
After suffering many indignities along with him trying to screw me over on filing with the INS in hopes of ruining my opportunities here; I was asked to leave. Aaah yes, they'd no way of knowing where I'd go, where I would sleep. I truly though they thought that I'd have to go right on back home. Yes I was told I had nowhere to live on my way back to B'klyn, a week before Christmas and the same week I found out that my Grandmother had died. Then the final insult. When I came to get my things I wasn't even given a ride by my "hosts" to B'klyn, I was made to bum a ride with friends who were visiting. The smugness, the rudeness and the shear lack of any humanity from these 2 were enough. But the sabotage did not work, I was not thrown out of the country, barred from returning or faltered at my studies. Instead I soldiered on.
The room in B'klyn was at the home of my paternal cousin's paternal relatives - yeah that used to take a lot of explaining. Lots of people there, warm friendly and big family. There were days where I wished I could be alone but all in all it was better than nothing, I could go to school, do what I had to do and be at peace. But with a rising request of more funds from my cousin's aunt and an impending graduation; well I knew it was time to move on and I wanted out of deep B'klyn; 6yrs was enough so I got an offer for a room mate situation in none other that upper Manhattan complete with a view of the big city.

This was airy and big and I felt like I was sitting on top of the world! My roommate was a friend's old school friend and was an aspiring actress and singer who was way too in love with herself and the apartment that wasn't even her's. I mean it was a rental, you don't own a rental after all. She soon left to California to pursue her acting dream in the sea of other hopeful starlets and the apt. was left to me and my now gone roomate's mutual friend. We lived it up, and it was so liberating to not be under someone else's roof dealing with all their dumb shit. But that too was short lived and soon the insecurities of Ms. Starlette and her need to feel like she was in control of her apt. and in effect, us 2 soon led us to pack up and unceremoniously leave for 4 blocks down. That moving situation melted down into a need to have our dear starlette arrested and kept overnight while we got the hell out.

Riverside drive would be my next lovely home for the next 3yrs - by then my roommate had had a baby and I realized that it was time to stop paying rent and move onto test the ownership waters by buying a condo in Jersey City - yes affordable led me and my boyfriend to get out of the greater NYC area and after the world of Condo and personalities could do no more and 6 glorious years - now I'm in a house and home ownership is a whole 'nother world for my husband and I. But I figured I've come a long way and climbed many a rung on some strange ladders. Looking back is crazy and I always knew that when I was having all those wacky experiences that I'd be looking back and laughing, I knew they had to happen; a trial by fire of sorts. Hey what can you do. I survived some living hells. But for Marcel & Keith - right now, I cannot ever forgive them for what they did. Maybe one day I will but treating anyone the way they treated me is just unreal! Now they're divorced, good old Keith had twin daughters all along the time I was there, unknown to his dear and obeying wife, then he had 2 more illegitimate ones with some other fool - all while married to dear old puppet wife, and it was only then she stuck a fork in him and was done. She just found out about the twins - ha. I thought, all the time that he was giving me hell, he had a dirty little secret to keep. I wish I'd known I woulda blackmailed the shit outta him. I tell ya life is strange and it comes back to bite you in several different ways.