How Mesmerists Do Public Speaking

I'm in a position where I am doing a lot of public speaking.  It's all good.  I was even offered a business opportunity from one of my favorite hypnotists because of it, so I can't complain.  He wants me to do corporate seminars.  I love that idea!

I'm doing the public speaking due to the crap the city employed bully pulled.  If the job pans out, I'll do something half decent for her department, even if it is simply deciding NOT to sue them for defamation. 

Maybe I can send flowers to their new boss...well, probably not.  The city attorney and city manager have me terrified to talk to the employees.  It has come to my attention that they are fined several hundreds of dollars in cash for talking to people involved in politics, even if it can help them help their departments.  I'm even afraid to answer the emails I get from them lest they be fined and fired. 

I really should answer the questions "Who the hell are you?"  and "If we have to pay out court settlements for discriminating against people who are [stereotypical statement about physical characteristic] which makes them lazy, it takes money away from the community!  What do you say about that?"

The answer to the first question is "read my bio" and the second is "Stop hiding behind overpaid outside council and start following the letter of the law, you freakin' abusive racist, sexist, uneducated moron!"

But alas, I have to learn how to play nice and say it like a hypnotist would say it.

You know you don't have to [deepens voice] do what I say!

and then proceed to tell her to pick her nose in the next board meeting or televised appearance. 

Okay, I'd never do that.  Still fining people for dealing with issues of public concern is a horrible first amendment violation on the part of a governmental employer. 

I can't stomach the thought of being the reason the city steals their grocery money and, quite seriously, looking at various ways I can put a stop to the stupid and illegal behavior.  tsk...tsk... It's only a matter of time. 

Anyway....this is how I do public speaking. 

I stand in front of people. 

I stay silent for three seconds or until I can look everyone in the eyes and feel a connection with them. 

Then I say whatever the heck comes to mind. 

Usually, this works well. 

When dealing with issues like motivation, weight loss, and positive thinking.  This works exceptionally well. I can scan the faces of my audience and know what they need to hear.  In the past, I've never had to speak to groups of more than twenty people.

This is much, much different. 

When dabbling in the political sphere, not so much.  I did this technique and jaws dropped.  That is never a good sign. 

I am competing with five of the most eloquent public speakers in my area.  Compared to them, I suck. You know you suck at something when two of your competitors make it known that you did well. 

I was so happy when I had the thought that not one of the hundreds of people in attendance would ever notice me again.  I could live my ramblings down without fear. 

Not so fast...

I went to the store today in a floppy hat, sans makeup, and with horribly huge black framed glasses. 

A lady at the approached and stated that she saw me speak last week.  She mentioned the freaky speech and thanked me for what I said.  I told her that I meant every word of it and put in a good word for my two supportive competitors.  I told her that whoever wins will do an excellent job representing her.  She looked confused. 

Why should I badmouth the competition?  Sure, two of them screwed me three years ago but they really seemed to have had their hands tied by an elected official abusing his power.  I only wish they'd give me a written promise to stop the illicit practices but, alas, they cannot. 

I'm off to decide if I want to continue doing this or to throw my support in any direction.  Last month, I knew who I would support if I had to pack up and move away.  Now, I adore almost all of my competitors for one reason or another.  If we could someone take all their great qualities and roll them into my genuine desire to do the people's bidding, we'd fix all our problems post haste. 

Darn it... I can't leave the competition just yet. 

Why don't reporters ask me what I like about people rather than what I dislike?  It's an easier question to answer. 

Love ya,

S.   

An Answer to My Bully

I'm still trying to decide whether or not to answer an email I received my the city employed bully that I'm actually trying to help. 

I can't post it for two reasons; she'd be fired for putting her employer at risk of a lawsuit and everyone would know who I am.  So....I have yet to respond.  I asked the HR manager if I could respond, he won't call me back.  The chicken hearted bully left me a fake email address traced to a deceased man in southern california. 

Oh, here is a tip for the uninformed. 

Never send a hypnotist an abusive email.  If you do, make it short and don't let her know who you are.  A good hypnotist can get insight into the easiest way to make you hit the floor by studying your language patterns.  It appears that the email was either written in starts and spurts or was written by two different people. 

The first line of that email was written by a woman who loves music, doesn't care about her appearance and hears only what she wants to hear.

The remainder of the email was written by a touchy-feely, highly sexualized yet inarticulate person with some type of bi-polar disorder. 

It is possible that the email had only one writer who went into trance while composing the email. 

At least the bully didn't send a letter.  One can learn even more by analyzing handwriting! 

Anyway, she wants to know who I am. 

My PR representative's initial response made me giggle...

HELLO! My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepair to die!

When I see her roaming the halls of the city building, this is the only thing I think of now.  I'm terrified I'm going to break out in a spanish accent if we end up actually talking to each other.

True Love

On Christmas of '09, a witch friend gave me a yellow candle that would allegedly bring true love to me once I burned it down. 

I found it the other day.
I burned it. 

Within a few hours, someone offered me a puppy. 

I guess it worked. 

Love ya,

S.

Shall I strike a pose?

So, this evening, I found myself heading to a party full of political big wigs.  You know, the kind of people that can kill a contract with a red light camera with a mere vote. 

And within one block of the party, lights started flashing all over the place. 

I'm sure the local police department got a few pictures of some annoyed redhead in a vintage volkswagan van pointing up at what was, at that moment, a green light! 

All those lights flashing reminded me of something incredibly annoying. 

They reminded me of the worst memories of my entire life. 

They reminded me of my teenage years as a model.

It brought back painful memories of starvation, itchy make-up, and stuffing my size 5 frame into super tight jeans. 

Then it brought back memories of crankiness.  I was incredibly cranky those days. 

When we remember bad memories, it impacts our mood.  When we remember being cranky, we get cranky. 


I felt like I did back in the day when I was hot, uncomfortable and crabby.  I felt as frustrated as I did the last time I tried to put false eyelashes on, doing my best not to glue my eyes shut, while getting distracted by the noisy stomach growls from the hungry little girls that surrounded me. 

I was irritated! 

That was my tone when I called the police department to try to report the malfunctioning cameras.  The officer told me to call back if I got a ticket. 

Then, I told the officer who I was. 

So, tomorrow I get to call the company that manufactures said cameras and try to find out why I can't drive though an intersection without wanting to break out into a rendition of Girls On Film.

No matter what happens between now and election day, I VOW to do everything in my power to get rid of those blasted cameras!  

The powers that be best take care of it before I do. 


I realized that if I really wanted to win the title I'm vying for, all I have to do is tell the voters who actually voted to put those red light cameras in our city in the first place and I'll leave one third of my competition in the dust. 

People hate those things, too.   It could cost a couple of men an election. 

How bad do I not want to win?


Hmmmmm.....

Love ya,

S.

P.S.  Oh, I couldn't eat a bite at the party.  I probably left a very important person feeling like a bad hostess.  I blame those damn flashing lights.  For former models, flashing lights trigger anorexia. 

This is war!

No Going Back....

Life is getting weirder. 

The dreams are getting more bizarre.  Perhaps I'm supposed to paint the crazy things I see. 

I guess I could paint everything and then invite all the subjects of the paintings over for dinner.  If there are any truth to the dreams, it would be fun to watch them faint.

Despite what people say, I don't like where I am.  I don't want to do what I've been asked to do and am trying to make the most of it.  It is so damn hard to play nice with dolts.  I have to hold back when I want to wring their filthy necks. 

There have been times when I wanted to point out to abusive public officials that I can see the cowardice in their eyes, I have to work incredibly hard to stay quiet.

If you're a public official I like, I'll covertly hypnotize you to be successful.  If I don't like you, count your blessings if I refuse to look into your eyes.  In fact, you should consider it a gift. 


Staring me down is usually a mistake, once you get dizzy it is to freakin' late to stop the process.


I can't wait for December.  That will be one less thing stressing me out.


My ex claims he loves me but I can't trust him.  He promises not to lie and then I catch him in a new one.  About three times a year, he'll give me a lustful look and I'll end up kissing him.  Usually within 72 hours, I find out that he's been hiding something that ends up destroying my life.  He tells me he keeps secrets in order to take care of me.  Here is the thing, he's not taking care of anything.  I know he has PTSD and that is the reason for his inability to talk to me or keep his promises. 

I'm really freakin' close to suing the nasty, lying snots who started all this crap in the first place.


The lawyers say that I have one year from the date I learn of defamation to sue.  In early July, I had lunch with five people. They told me that my ex's boss had been contacting them with stories about his alleged physical abuse towards me while claiming that he was seeking treatment for a mental illness.
Not one of these stories his boss told are true.  One of these people claimed it impacted a hiring decision for their company and promised to repair the situation with the HR manager for that company.

I'm a tad bit ticked. 


Do you know why my ex stopped talking to me?  He blames me for his job loss.  I read the transcripts of a court hearing in which his former boss states that she let him go because I had an advanced degree and she thought it made him unmotivated to do his job.  She said other things too that really ended up getting me in a lot of weird fights with my ex.  I guess one can't say they were fights because of the lack of talking; they were more staring fests which broke my heart.


This has caused me so much pain in the past three years.  Of all of that, some of the things she said caused me to sleep alone.  I think that is when the pain hits the hardest.  After nearly 17 years together, I spent our 18th, 19th, and 20th anniversaries alone while sharing the same home with him.  I've spent the past three years sleeping alone.  It's amazing how much that waking up by myself in the middle of the night hurts.  I thought I would be over it by now.   I thought we'd have the money to move on.  Things just keep getting worse and worse. 

There was a lie that pertained to something he allegedly did while he slept with me.  At first, that lie was referred back to me in a manner which suggested that my activities caused him not to get enough sleep.  It suggested something that the pagans refer to as sexual vampirism or what clinical psychologists refer to as being a sex addict.  Again, one person claims he fell asleep at work (despite a supervisor claiming that no one else saw it) and I get blamed.

On the bright side, when men ask me if I'll ever marry again I say no.  I'm afraid that my activities may not be suitable for married men.  I'll never forgive myself if another man loses sleep being near me.

Then, the lawyers suggested that his sleep disorder, which they now claim he never disclosed, caused him to act violently in the middle of the night.  I sure wish I were a party to the case.  I would have caught the city attorney's lie.  Either he said he had a sleep disorder/issue or he did not.  If  the supervisor writes that he has a sleep issue, then he has proof that he told them. 

The city attorney is so very lucky my ex doesn't involve me in his legal disputes.  The city erred in letting their lap dogs harass me, though.  After 6.25 hours of harassment, it is easy to get a clearer picture of what is really going on. 

Oh, and I was told something else about the "sleep lie" that is really pissing me off but I'll save that one for the lawyers.  It's amazing what one learns when she asks.   One would think that a city HR manager or his attorneys would actually ask the supervisors what they saw rather than take the word of one person.  Here is a hint; if the same person keeps coming to you with stories about everyone else, odds are they are spending their work life imagining slights and not doing their job. 

Why, though, would she make up stuff about a complete stranger?


Everytime they lied about me, they put another nail in the coffin of my marriage. 

Why can't I sue for defamation?  I have lost everything that was important to me.  I spent nearly 20 years building a family, a home and a life that these people can destroy with gossip!!   

I'm tired of spending my nights in pain.  I'm tired of hearing this crap and not getting the loose ends tied up.  I'm tired of people approaching me to tell me that the mayor and two council-men at large told everyone to ignore me because the city attorney would take care of it.

The city attorney cannot take care of it without promising me to change the rules so that it will not happen to another soul again.  I know they tried to badger me into signing away the truth.  It won't work. 

I've posted everything online.  I've got relatives poised to sue if something happens to me.  This will be the party that will go on forever until I have assurances that they've stopped their pranks for good.

My heart is so broken that I may ease my pain by suing the city.

Let me try to explain.  As the lies spread and grew, they became more complicated.  So, what I know today may change tomorrow.  That is how it is with gossip. 
.
In talking to other people, I also learned that the woman who lied about my marriage always talks about leaving her abusive spouse who resides in another country.  I think that her lies may be a way for her subconscious mind to process the abuse in her past. 

Why am I writing this?

I was threatened again.  I am afraid. 

I want to be sure that my family knows what is going on if I end up missing.  For the past three years, it has been awkward going to family functions because I don't know how to act around my ex or how to describe why he isn't around. 

I also fear something happening to my ex, myself or the kids.  I don't want everyone to arrest any one I dated in the past.  I had an ex threaten to kill me back in 89-90 and I know he'd be the first suspect.  He hasn't done a thing to annoy me in over three years and I haven't heard a peep out of him.

There are other people who have frightened me of late.  The three blogs connected to this one have every detail.  Just read the posts that are saved as drafts.  

Love ya,

S. 

P.S.  They have warned me about tire slashing, house break-ins, false reports to social services and car thefts.  I pray they're not superstitious.

If they know anything about me, they should know enough to stay away.  Break in or visit my property at your peril.  

Unless it's Halloween. 

Oh, by the way, I have my costume picked out.  I'll be trick or treating as a tea party politician.

I did the right thing...right?

I'm sure I did the right thing. 

It was awkward. 

Facebook is awkward.  I meet so many people there but only like to talk to them in real life.  Thank goodness its easy to pick me out of a crowd. 

I think I did the right thing. 

I question it too much. 

Yet, I justify my actions.  I'm holding you back.  If you're complaining to a beautiful woman that you have exes that you think about, you're not talking to her about what she likes.  You're not flirting with her.  You're not picking up on her.  You're missing out on an opportunity with her. 

When I saw that I felt horrible.  Could my memory be holding you back?

I did the right thing....right? 

If I did, why do I cry when I have to our hometown to pick up my mail?

This morning a painting of Krishna and his childhood friend Radha made me think of you and cry.  There has got to be something wrong with me.

I miss my friend. 

I wish I could tell you what is going on. You're the only person in the world who knows that I hate politics.  You know that I can't take myself too seriously.  You are the only person in the world who knows who I am. 

You probably figured out that I'm doing what I do to stay safe.  They can't hurt me if I'm in the public eye.  It did put a stop to the overt stalking.  I did find one officer in my yard the day before the lawyers hauled me into their offices to harass me for a day...and I do get hate emails from them...they even had my ex's lawyer harass me to try to get me to stop doing what I am doing. 

They don't want me to stop the political stuff.  They want me to promise not to talk about the psychological impact of what they are doing to their employees and citizens.  They want me to quit my research project. 

I am afraid of these people; I am afraid they are going to hurt my ex and the kids.  The things they've done to other people in my boat scare the crap out of me.  I need to go!

I do what feels right.  I'm probably pissing a heck of a lot of people off in the process.  I was put in a weird position for reasons that I don't understand.  I don't like what I am doing.  It isn't me.

All I can think about is David Byrne singing "how did I get here?"

Then I think of you.   

I have no flippin' clue what is happening to me.  One day I'm told that I am broke.  The next I then learn that I'm flush with money.  One day he tells me to get a divorce.  The next he wants me to stay here.  What in the world is going on? 

My love life is non-existent.  My ex flip-flops more than Obama.  What can I do? 

I cry.  I pray.  I realized that all we really want, deep down, is someone who understands who we are. 

So...I haven't been very nice to you.  I thought I was but I guess I'm just a big snot that owes you an apology.

I thought I was ugly so I pushed you away when you told me I was still pretty.  In that moment, I loved you so much I wanted someone better for you.  The day before, just hours before you called me, my ex let loose and told me some harsh truths about our marriage.  I wasn't ready to let anyone in.  I'm sorry.

I did notice the way you fell against the car as I walked away.  The memory tears me apart.  I hate that parking lot because whenever I'm there, I remember watching you stand there in pain staring into your hands. 

It makes me feel like shit.

You confided in me.  I was afraid to burden you with my crap.  I'm sorry.

Fast forward two years later, I go to lunch with you and feel guilty about what I feel.  When you reached out for me, I pulled back.  I wanted someone younger, prettier, fitter, happier, wealthier, sexier, and baggage free for you.  I was still reeling from things.  I don't understand what happened.  I really want to.  I am terrified of hurting another soul. 

You're my friend.  I love you. 

That's why I cry when you tell me you hurt.  That's why I hate seeing you in pain.  That's why the only thing I ever want for you is to find whatever it is you need.  I keep telling myself that the day will come when your soul is at peace.  You will find the place you need to be and my soul won't hear yours cry out in the middle of the night. 

I know you're in pain.  I dream of it.  It hurts me so much. 

I wish I had handled things better when we were younger...maybe this would never have happened.  Maybe your leg would be fine.  Maybe the man I dated after you wouldn't have broken the fingers on my right hand and messed with my wrist; maybe I could still play bass, or paint, or work out with weights without pain. 

Maybe our hearts wouldn't ache.  Maybe we wouldn't have been hurt by idiots who didn't understand who we are...

Or maybe you and I are actually where we need to be.   

I can't talk about what is happening here.  I don't understand anything.  When I do confide to others, I usually find out than I'm mistaken so I keep to myself.  I don't mean to be guarded.  I just don't know what to do.

I still cry myself to sleep.

I pray my intuitions are inaccurate.  I pray I'm wrong.  I pray you're not in pain.  I pray I'm just jealous because deep down inside I want to believe that you've met your soul mate and are incredibly happy. 

Then, why do I have bad dreams?

I thought cutting you off on Facebook would cure me.  Did it help you?

Do you hurt at 3:00 am, too?

I'd like to let you know that I sleep with my phone. 

I fall asleep about 4:00 am and it starts ringing off the hook around 8:00 or so.  The # I gave will be piped wherever I end up.  It goes to my cell phone.   If I'm at a motel, it will be forwarded to that phone.  If not, my voip computer service will get it.

If you need to talk, I'm here.  I want to be your friend.  I miss you.

This is a standing offer.  If you're good now but hurting at 64...call me.  If I'm still breathing, able to talk and hear you...feel free to call.  I'll still love you. 

If you don't need to talk, then that means you've found what you need.  If you have, then our souls will soon be at peace.   That will be a beautiful thing. 

Love ya,

S.

An Explanation to My High School Sweetheart

Okay...

You'll want to know someday and I don't want to have to try to explain it to you when I'm 64 years old and senile.

I tried to tell you in person but I think you're avoiding me.  So, let me explain why I unfriended you on Facebook and removed you from all of my social networks. 

I care for you. 

I want you to move on and be really happy. 

I know you're in pain.  Anyone within a mile of you can tell.  It's heartbreaking to see someone so vibrant and capable of joy feel so down.  I know who you really are. 

Today, I noticed a posting on Facebook about an ex-girlfriend rating system.  You actually rate us on how happy you are that we are out of your lives?

Goodness....and I hang out with the people working to legalize pot and keep the politicians out of our bedrooms.  Gee Whiz...

Of course, my size ten frame is pretty flabby.  I'm sure I lose a lot of medicinal brownie points for being fat. 

I hope you're happy I'm far away; you don't want that contact high or to get smacked in the eye with my flailing arm flab. 

Of course, there is my propensity to sit up in the middle of the night drinking rum and smacking my bass.  A drunk and naked woman playing with wood is truly the stuff of nightmares.

I'll be the first to admit that you got off lucky the day you fled.

Truth be told, I seriously don't want to know where I fall on your rating system.  In fact, I want no part of it. 

Do you know why?

Sweetie...how in the world can you move forward if you are stuck thinking about the past and your ex loves?

If I love you then I want what is best for you. 

Dear one, you need to move on. 

• Nevermind the psychology of men who mess with the minds of their ex-girlfriends and say stuff to annoy them. 
• Nevermind the piss poor advice of seduction gurus who tell you that a way into a woman's pants is to ignore her (and you DO know that I KNOW several of the people who peddle that crap....they whine about living in their mother's basements...so...don't buy into it...please).
• Nevermind the 27-35 year old suitors all so eager to explain to me why you are my Facebook friend when you refuse to be my friend in real life; they say its an effort to get a favor and make fun of me to your friends.  These youngins don't know a gosh darn thing.  I hope... 

These things don't matter...

What matters is this....

You're stuck in the past man.  I had to remove my face from your page.   You need to move on. 


So, here is my Rx. 

Go visit your mom and throw out the ex-box.  Get rid of it all.  The photos, the class rings, and anything else that has my energy on it.  Get rid of it! 

Then go home and frolic on the beach in something that will, uh, enhance whatever it is about you that the ladies like.

Come back when you're hitched. 

I love ya man but watching you suffer is hurting me too much. 

You don't want to talk to me.  You send me requests for online recommendations but I never know what to write.  When I email to ask what qualities are important in your field, you ignore me.  When a guy got weird the day we met and I walking away from you in the parking lot, I wrote to ask if you saw him (the cops asked me to after it was found that this guy was harassing my office mates), you didn't respond. 

I'd call you but I know you tend to attract jealous and controlling women, so I don't dare do that unless I know its okay.

I get it. You don't want to be my friend.  That scares me.  If a man doesn't want to be your friend yet keeps you in his sights, he's typically up to something. 

If you want to be my friend and actually act like one, we can talk. 

Trust me, I know what it is like to ignore my friends due to being in severe emotional pain.  I have irritated more people than I can count in the past year and owe so many people apologizes.  I understand.  You're not the only person hurting right now buddy. 
.
In the end, it comes down to one thing.  A man who doesn't want to be an ex-girlfriend's friend yet stays in contact with her seems to be waiting in the wings for something that she'll only give a select friend. 


If you're not my friend, it simply won't happen.

Or the young men could be right, you're keeping tabs on me to make fun of me so you feel okay about being nasty to me at seventeen.   

I'm sorry about the tough love but....I don't know what else to do.

Take care of yourself,

S.

P.S.  And yes, some of this is projection.  I did the same thing that I told you to do.  I still can't find the naked pic but all the others are gone as of today.  I got rid of the Bible you gave me and am thinking about paying my daughter $50 to get rid of the giraffe. 

Most of the artwork is gone too. 

Let's see if this does the trick.

P.S.S.  I finally remember how judgmental you are.  The sad thing about that is as harshly as you judge me and the other women you knew, you judge yourself even more mercilessly.  It must be a painful place to be.

May you find your Aphrodite. 

Blessed Be my friend.