The Sanctity of Human Life: The Survivors of Abortion and Their Stories

Dear Readers,
To continue and close the gap with the sanctity of the beginning of life, I have a website for all of us to go to. This is a web page for a lady who survived abortion. Apparently, her doctor, the one who performed an abortion on her mom and the successful killing of her twin brother, is now being investigated. He’s probably going to jail, but a letter to the doc was posted on Clara’s blog. Clara is the lady’s name, and she is really strong and passionate about the survivors of abortion.
Also, Dr. Sandefur said something about a lady called Gianna Jessen, who survived an abortion, a botched one as Clara had. Because of abortion, both women suffer complications. Clara’s page shows that it’s not a good idea to abort, and it won’t ever be. Pregnancy should be planted in the womb, and it should be medically correct in order for it to be a real pregnancy. All abortions I have heard of are mostly surgical ones in the womb, and that’s because that’s where babies grow. However, if a problem pregnancy, an ectopic pregnancy, were to be kept rather than treated, the mother and baby would both die. Anyhow, here’s the page. Enjoy the story, and comment away.

Letter to a Lost Friend

Dear Nick,
Yes, this is Beth. I am very worried about you.
As a person who is blind and otherwise disabled, may not be able to work that way, I am worried that you are being thrown off the face of this earth. Nick, I have already set things up so that the NFB of Iowa and Disability Rights Iowa will indeed find you. I don’t know how this will happen, but I already talked to Donna Prime, president of the NFB of Iowa as of this year. She will indeed help with stuff about you. I hope that this helps. Nick, honestly, I don’t understand what will happen to you if the staff don’t clear the air. Nick needs to be able to communicate with others of his own identifying “subspecies”, I’d say to the staff, but then if I try calling your house, I’m afraid they will threaten me with death or something. I”m afraid of the staff and the way they feel about you. I want to talk to you, Nick, and tell you that Prime is taking care of the situation, and should get to you soon. I’ve already thought about you all the time, and I think it’s obvious you’re being bombarded with bad things about disability rights groups. People say, “But it’s not abuse if he’s being denied an iphone. Those are expensive.” Yeah, but haven’t we thought of the blind being able to use basic cell phones? No company will sell you a phone of this magnitude. Denying you your iphone is a bogus bullshit thing the staff think they can do. They’ve used scare tactics and takeaways to do things to you that are stupid. Honestly, I think it’s damaging to see you go through what you’re going through. I’ll say this today, we’re honestly waiting for you. Nick, I hope you are indeed ready to come out and say, “I don’t want restrictions anymore.” Adults don’t really follow that rigid a boundary. No healthy adult person needs such “boundaries.” I am a fierce advocate of disability rights, both in and out of group homes. Emotional abuse is a bad thing. I better go to the website I’m about to put in this blog.
anyway, Nick, I’m wondering how you are and what you’re doing. Joseph Colunga called me last night. He’s weird, but still the same Joseph I do like and respect as a friend. He’s the same old guy who calls me Bleth and all that weird stuff. AS for you, Nick, I pray that you get a way out of Harlan, besides that town has been hell for you. Hell has many good intentions paved within its blackened streets, where hearses roam instead of angels, where fire engulfs all things. Hell is simply the absence of God and then some. That’s where the bad ones go, and aside from fire, blackened streets, and hearses everywhere, your Hell has all the other qualities: restrictions beyond your control, accusations, and people claiming to help. What about Justina Pelletier? What about Jenny Hatch? What about the others who’ve been there, done that, etc? I am your advocate and friend, and I won’t stop till you’re free. I hope that Miss Prime does her job and decides to take your case to Scott LaBarre and someone who will listen and hear you. A blind lawyer is someone you have probably never known. However, Scott’s a firebrand somewhat like myself. I praise his work, though we haven’t talked. I better talk to LaBarre some more. Anyhow, my peace with you is clear. I’ve written enough, so I’m ending this piece by saying, keep your head high, keep your nose clean, and stick with your friends.
Beth Taurasi

To those of you who need the site I’m about to post, go here and check out the victims page. You’ll be surprised. Everybody’s vulnerable to guardianship abuse and neglect, restrictions, and other things that might compromise or violate disability law. We as a disabled community have a right to live in the world, and we’re going to exert this right beyond the reaches of the Internet.

To My Twitter Followers, Read This If You Want to Get to Know Me At All

This post is dedicated to the twitter followers who have, or have not, gotten to know me. I hate writing a biography of myself over and over again, but I guess I’d like to introduce myself again for those who are reading this via Facebook or Twitter and possibly Tumblr and other venues. I don’t have Pinterest, but I know some folks do. Here’s a bit about me.
My name is Beth Taurasi. I’m blind from birth, born in Florida, a transplant to Denver and have been since 2010. I have not moved or gone back east to Florida, though I admit to going back east to Georgia to visit an ex. I won’t name him. My interests include reading, writing, music, and broadcasting on Heat FM’s Denver Delights show. Anyone who wants to like the page may do so if you have me on Facebook.
My writing may sound manic to some folks, good to others. I really like to be creative, and as a musician who sings and writes her own poetry as well, I admit that I have suffered enough. Such a thing as music has freed me. I love singing, and writing songs about various stuff. I enjoy comedy music, like what Bob Rivers writes, and I love Weird Al Yankovic. He’s very old, but still, white and nerdy. Yes, I’m making a song reference here. As musicians, we suffer the highest rate of mental and physical health issues among other kinds of occupations. Creative artists often have mental issues because nobody seems to let them use their creativity. I was banned once or twice from telling stories, writing things, and so on. Such banning was then proceeded by a mental breakdown. If I’m not allowed to write my feelings down, chances are you’ll see me in a hospital, taking high doses of weird stuff. I won’t go into why the weird stuff is available.
When I was a child, I took my first piano lessons. I did this at about four or six. I graduated from melodic lines to chord progressions and all that very quickly. I was brightest in the resource VI room with a teacher who no longer wishes to speak to me. I had my growing pains, which include but is not limited to, like not being allowed to date, go to prom, and or attend an event without a family member or parent there. Ugh.
I honestly don’t think I will be attending the ten-year class reunion in Titusville’s Lazy Gator Bar or whatever. I can’t because of the drinking, the illicit gambling, the kind of stuff that I would never do. The last time I went gambling with my dad, I blew $7. Yeah, out of $20. We were on a fun ship manned by the crews at Carnival Cruise Lines, and I admit they deserve more credit than credit is due. I had fun on the ship, and miss those days when I could do things without anyone giving a second thought to it. Alas, I had a mental breakdown at nineteen, have been taking meds for almost ten years, and have to adjust and change them due to insurance reasons. I personally think that feelings, which medications tend to break away from you, lend themselves to creative moments. I could, for instance, write a lost love song for someone I once knew and remember. I could remember the great things I did for that person. I’m sorry about the times I’ve been mean, annoying, rude, or whatever to those folks I dedicate this post to.
When I got my Twitter account, and here’s where the real fun begins, I found HKC Radio. I started listening, and Chris West became the object of my “affections”. I don’t know what he’s thinking, and since he is not following me on Twitter for fear of what he calls “harassment” and “stalking”, which is totally untrue, and I’m tired of this stuff already, I will go ahead and state my feelings about Chris. I have mixed emotions. Not getting the chance to meet Chris was, in any case, a blowout for me. I never got the chance to know what it would be like to kiss him, to feel his embrace, to know exactly how real he was. He was quite the man.
I personally at first loved him like mad. Yeah, I fell in love with the man because he initiated contact on my cell. HE said once, and this is gonna sound nuts to some, the weirdest thing to me when I described my body to him. HE said, “I want that.” What? I was overwhelmed, and he felt like it was wonderful to hear me speak and all. Chris, I do wish you’d come right back, and apologize for blocking me on Twitter and other platforms because we haven’t even met. I credit Wes Derby, my good friend and a really great friend at this, for having NOT decided to destroy me. Ultimately, years ago, he followed me and told me everything. But because I lent myself to getting to know him, which was the key to a good friendship at this point, he said, “I won’t do that.” Wes and I now exchange a good natured trash talk every now and then about football. It never changed from 2009 to today. We’re still trashing each other’s football teams, and I admit I like that. Good natured trash talk is fine, but none of the defamatory statements I’ve received regarding my character. Employers will wonder, and so will future spouses, children, grandkids, etc. What about future caregivers? Doctors? What about mental health professionals?
Today, I am posting this for those who don’t think they want to get to know me at all because of a misconception or miscommunication. I have rules for this blog, my Twitter, my Facebook. Use your heads, guys. Don’t falter and follow all my rules of thumb, and you’ll never get bored with me at this point.
Here’s the rules:
1. Do not just block illegitimately and accuse me of a crime I didn’t commit. WE already have inmates at Death Row who are being forced to die against their will due to crimes they didn’t commit. Rapists have gone through the same stuff. Rapists who didn’t rape, that is, were given loads of money due to the damage prison and prison life did to them.
2. Please, I mean please ask me questions. You can ask any question you desire of me, and I will be happy to answer it. Calling me a “smart alec” is not allowed for any reason. Not unless I’m being playful and I say it, you may say it if you feel it was a smart ass comment, but don’t sit there and block me over the dumbest stuff.
3. Do not defame my character in mentions, shares, or statuses. IF you tag me in a status and it says defamatory stuff, I will ask that FB take it down. I know what to do with that. Example: Thirteen-year-old Mackenna Conlon, yes, I mean her, had some weird guy hack into her FB and tag me and others. She was annoying to begin with, trying to get me to FaceTime her, and she is only 13! She then proceeded to have the guy write some nasty stuff on Facebook pertaining to me and friends, and I, the responsible person who felt wronged by it, reported it. The reports were true, and the Facebook community took the post down, and Mackenna has not been seen since! Yes! Victory for the responsible citizen prevailed this time, and that’s what happens to people to use defamatory statements, bad words, vulgar threats, and bad language of any violent or sexual content and or nature. Anyone who says or does these things, well, it’s obvious what will happen. I won’t say.
5. Do not use a parental attitude with me on my blog, Facebook, Twitter, etc. etc. I had a problem with someone doing this, and it bugs me. It is wicked to say that my “behavior” is “unacceptable” when you don’t even know me in person. You need to meet me, guys, in order to make a fair judgment. Then again, only God is the fairest judge of all, so if you decide to do things that will make your book of life smaller in Heaven, go right ahead, but the consequences won’t be pleasant. One way to do this is to say to St. Peter, “I did not forgive so and so.” I forgive the lady who attacked me today as a matter of fact. Cat, the lady in question, needs a lot of love and attention at this point. Maybe something happened to her that I don’t know about. For one thing, she doesn’t like it when I’m sweet and affectionate. Well, you don’t like it when I ask you a question? What about this: no compromise. Unfollowing is not the answer. You need to read my timeline. Get to know me on other platforms, and here’s a good idea for some accountability measure: come to Denver and spend a weekend here. I’ll cook dinner for anyone who walks in here. Do have a drink here. Do take off your shoes and don’t put them on the carpet. My friend did this, and he was Arabic and all, but those people are amazing. Love this guy, though. Not all Saudis are nice, but then again not all of us Americans are either. However, my friend, Hassan, was really hospitable. I liked taking my shoes off, the stacks of cookies I got to eat, the sodas, etc. Hassan always treated me and friends to good dinners, and his mother was sweet too. I have no problem with the people coming here, being hospitable and stuff.
Those are pretty simple rules. Now, those of you who want to get to know me further, and those who’ve wronged me at all, please feel free to call me. Add me on other places, if you’re really curious, please come here and see the girl I really am. I’m tired of defaming people on my Twitter page. I also created Blake’s Twitter page, and if it weren’t for other people in my life, I wouldn’t have friends like Wes, Blake, Alice, and some others I’ve known for years. I want to say, in no uncertain terms, that I’m sorry for some of you all’s reasoning not to want to talk to me anymore. It’s sad that none of you who do this are doing anything to make it right with me. I tried making it right with Chris, but no, he decides to block and remove my contact information from his stuff. I don’t appreciate the illegitimate apologies, and I’ll say this, I mean what I say when I tell you I’m sorry for being what you think I was. I’ll say one thing before I close. I won’t apologize for crimes and stuff I never did. For instance, you can’t make me apologize for stealing a million bucks. I never did that. You can’t tell me I have to be held accountable for being what you call rude and irresponsible. I would, however, be happy to tell you that you need to get to know me before making ruthless judgments. Please, those of you who didn’t bother to read this post, well, forget that. If you’re reading this post, you need to stop trying to get rid of my words, my wisdom, the judgment of God. Christians have to forgive, and I’m guilty of not doing this sometimes, seven times seven times seven times seven times over. Jesus said you can’t just let it all get to the person. I tried to be nice to Ms. Conlon, and she ended up harassing me, but I was told some weird stuff about her through sources. Again, I had to report that the guy in her account wasn’t nice to anyone who commented, and the thing was taken down. I think Conlon had a bad history. All in all, the question remains: where are the parents?
For those of you who do not know me and are reading the blog for the first time, welcome here. You are welcome. Sit down, read, and if you want to get to know who I really am, and look at the inside of me, ask me. Ask questions like I said earlier. Ask me away, and you can ask as many dumb ones as possible. Hey, I’m open to even the stupidest questions because they make for good laughs.
In closing, I want to say those of you who really want to be my friends or get to know me or read this, please understand what you’re dealing with. Use your judgment and your brain. If you have no life outside of social media and blogs, I understand if you’re mad at me. But being mad isn’t going to change the subject or the problem at had. Forgive, pray, and love your enemies. That doesn’t mean allow your abusive husbands and adult children to live with you. Forgiving doesn’t mean, for domestic violence victims, that the abuser can stay with you and kill you some more. It means you just utter the words of Jesus Christ himself, “Forgive them, for they know not what they are doing.” Of course, hold them accountable for their actions. For the abuser, get the protection order. Get the guy a divorce and throw him in jail if he perverts and violates the protection order. OF course, punish bank robbers and rapists, murderers and so on. Punish government officials who are corrupt like that Jack Ambramoff dude I forgot what he was doing. Of course, what a difference it makes when Tom Delay is punished for the racketeering he did what Abramoff and so on did to us. Of course, hold the murder row inmate accountable and don’t let him or her out. However, there is a point where you yourself are at peace with what I or someone else did. Cat, why not pray about this. IF you’re not a believer, I’m sorry if you’re not one. I wish you could see the way things got when I first found the real definition of Christ and God. Christ saved my whole life, my possibilities, and the possible life journey roads I would take. If not for Jesus Christ, Cat, I would be looked at as simply a marriage piece for sex and other things. I would have been sold to some Muslim stranger who did not know who I was, what conditions he was dealing with, and for that reason, he’d probably look at me the way you would look at an oversized pair of jeans you didn’t want that did not fit you. It happens all the time with my dad’s Christmas jeans Grammy, his mom, gives him or someone in the family. We always end up taking the jeans back and buying new ones. Should this happen to friends, wives, and someone you think you adopted? Well, there was a blind baby from Guatemala that a Florida mom adopted. She had no clue about the baby’s disability, but the child ended up after an examination being presumed blind. The parent got mad. However, she did not exchange the blind Guatemala baby for some healthy and sighted child. Children and women are not exchangeables. That means if I had married Deq and he had said, Beth, why aren’t you conceiving? I would say, perhaps it’s you who’s the problem. Oftentimes, Muslim cultures blame the woman on all things child bearing. If someone had adopted Blake or myself in different scenarios, we would probably not make it much. Ever thought that any other couple would see me as exchangeable? Perhaps. But Jesus Christ doesn’t see it that way. Blake, being the billion dollar person he is or was until after his 39th surgery–that’s right!–would never be an exchangeable. I want to credit the tenderness and love of God for watching out for both of us. Deq, of course, cannot be exchanged by his family after a disease rendered him blind. He was a little forest boy, watching animals, keeping the camels safe, and so on. When he got sick at eight, the family didn’t exactly predict he’d go blind, and he did. Does that give the family a right to exchange him for a new son? Well, here’s another example I read in a book:
Remember, readers, the scene from The Giver by Lois Lowry? Um, bookworms unite! The Giver and Jonas were in the Ceremony of Twelve, and a newchild (infant in the community’s lingo) was made to replace a previous Four (child of about four or five years old, on the fourth level of schooling), that had died. There’s another scene where the Nurturer kills a newborn male twin boy because he’s smaller. Not Releases, as some of you think. You learn the true definition of Release by that scene, and it hits you like, oh. Really?
We human beings are not exchangeables, and we’re irreplaceable. I’m irreplaceable in the eyes of God, and that’s how I wish you, Cat, would look at it. You need to look carefully at yourself. You’re irreplaceable, and there’s only one Gilman Gal. There’s only one lady who does a lot of server stuff, likes to tweet about computers and stuff, that’s Katherine Moss from Boston. There’s only one Blake, and only one Beth. There’s only one of all of us, and we’re all unique and special.
Ok, that’s a long post. I better get off of here.

The Sanctity of Human Life: What Is The Perfect Childe?

Dear Readers,
You parents on this list may wanna read this, it pertains to you and others who you know that are parenting a child. Let me ask a question: what do you think of when you think of the “perfect baby?” I guess before you had a child with a disability, it must’ve been, “Perfect eyes, perfect hair, perfect brain.” I’ve got bad news for you: nobody’s perfect. I’m a blind woman, and I was born this way, baby. I was born blind and full term. My mother carried me to term, and when I was born, well, she freaked out. Parents of disabled kids when they are first born at first feel a heartbroken feeling of loss when they find out, “Uh oh, my child is blind.” Blindness, may I say, is a minor incidence disability, nothing tragic. The only tragedy born to us is death, not the loss of intellect, sight, hearing, etc. Take a look at the reasons why so many parents abandon their disabled offspring: lack of information, misguided information, or lack of real advocacy and education. Take me for instance. My mother had no information about blindness, but learned Braille. My poor mom had to sit through meetings about “exceptional education” classes to teach Braille. When I later learned that I was among … drumrol please … ten percent of blind children who learned the dot system that raises dots on paper, I felt like something was bad. Something was really wrong with this picture. Why are only 10% and not 01% (trying to reverse the digits is horrifying) of blind kids literate? Ok, what about why isn’t 90% of the population literate in Braille instead of the just tiny ten percent? Answer: because we think Braille is antiquated, the tech will take over, and talking computers will help us learn everything. I’m sorry, but that’s totally misguided. I had a great VI teacher who was gifted in the art of teaching Braille. She had some developmentally disabled folks in her resource room, but I tended to be brightest. There’s nothing about being the brightest kid that makes me stand out. I had a friend in that same classroom who would never learn independence skills and Braille. Part of it might have been the parental environment she was in. There were simply cases where the reading was not teachable to the kids. Braille is so important because it gives us pleasure, freedom, and others.
What does all this have to do with the Sanctity of Human Life? Well, we have to think about carrying through with the commitment of raising the children we have when we marry. Ok, parents, here’s a rhetorical question: when you married your significant other, you made a commitment. When your child was born, disabled or nondisabled, what did you do first? You made a commitment to that child, right? Well, here’s something for those who might have never parented. When you bear a child with a disability, a bigger commitment is needed. The child needs more attention. Let me go ahead and spotlight some parents who did it, and the results of their wonderful caregiving and special attention.
I’ll start with my dear Blake’s mom. She did the right stuff. When Blake was first born, and almost died twice, Kathy was determined, learned, and gave Blake the opportunities he had and will always look back on. She trained him and herself and the late brother in the martial art of tae kwon do. Blake proved to be splendid in the arts, used a bow staff, became a national champion at one point. He still hangs out with his old friends at the studio, and because of this opportunity, ties were formed. People understood him, and yes, he had the chance to say, “Blind people are always people first. I just happen to be a man. But I happen to be blind.”
Jessie, my other friend, was born to Hispanic Catholic parents, and they raised him to be a normal kid. Jessie is geeky, loves to joke around, loves to make fun of me (yeah, if you’re reading this, you’re hired!), and works at a Marriott call center doing reservations and stuff. Jessie would never have gotten said job without the support and love of family, friends, and … yes, a good aware and caring group of friends who said, “Jessie is a guy. But he just happens to be blind.”
I’ll say that there are those who aren’t so lucky. The blind folks needed the opportunity to grow in utero before they came out and impressed me with their love, devotion, and loyalty. Kathy and Jessie’s dear mother would never have been educated had their sons not been born, and if they had indeed not carried their babies to full term or whenever, they would not have met such wonderful people. I’ll say that life is sacred from the very beginning, and I say that it is because I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t, and if you could detect my eyes and their weirdness in the uterus.
I’ll tell you a bit about me, just me now. I’m blind now, born this way as I said before. My mother carried me to term, and because of the frustrations of the parents’ culture and the things they had in store for me, I was not allowed to date, but relatively normal things happened to me. I was partially emotionally abused due to the parents’ misguided attempts to “cure” my “illness.” I had some problems in my adolescence and those years were difficult because … well, I confess I wasn’t given the right information. I read literature from the National Federation of the Blind, but my dad shot down all opportunities to talk about blind folks and their “civil rights.” We were on a tandem bicycle we owned one day, and my dad goes, “You have all the rights you need.” I was wanting to share the newfound literature with my dad, the stuff I was reading. My dad just taught me that I had to be passive and follow the rules. So according to my dad’s weird logic, if an airline in a foreign country told me I couldn’t go on the plane unaccompanied by sighted friends, I had to follow that rule. Well, such a rule is discrimination and does not go along with the Sanctity of life after the birth of a blind person. IF, for instance, Blake and I want to travel to India like the Bonehead President we have, no offense but he kind of is a bit of a bonehead, and the airline says, “You two need a sighted escort or you’ll be arrested”, we will file suit against the airline and flag them for discrimination. Why? Because the misguided and bad information about blindness still prevails in the airline’s mind. Many airlines do not make their websites accessible for blind people because of their misguided attempts to make it “pretty” with graphics and such things as enhancements for the sighted folks. I had to book using a U.S. Airways phone number, and I said that the phone fee was unfair because being a blind person, I couldn’t use their seat assignment map thing on the site while booking my flight to Phoenix last November. I’m sure that Blake could tell you more.
I’m not as well adjusted as Blake and Jessie, but my story should tell three things: that you can’t deny a disabled person anything, you can’t spoil them either, and you can’t leave them to rot in the dirt. Disabled children must be given the exact same opportunities, not so much items or gadgets, as sighted or able bodied individuals. That includes, but is not limited to, barrier free housing for wheelchair users, Braille for the blind ones, hearing aids for the deaf ones, and if the hearing aids don’t work and you don’t like cochlear implants, then you need to learn sign language and accept that language as your communication mode to talk to deaf individuals. I can’t see sign language, so I think Blake and I would probably need a bit of help, like a Deaf/Blind Communicator so we can read the person’s messages on a Braille display. We are Braille users frequently, and every day, with my Braille display, I read books, emails, web pages, etc. Blake uses Braille to read Ham rosters, newspaper articles, emails, etc. IF given a Braille device, he’d be reading all kinds of stuff, including addresses, phone numbers, emails, web browser pages, all sorts of unlimited stuff that is available to the sighted and able. Jessie uses Braille to read books, and I suppose he reads it all the time. I have a pretty fast reading speed.
I’ve shown you the good side of acceptance of difference with disabilities, but there are some people, I hate to say it, who don’t quite know what to make of their disabled curiosities. Let me give two examples:
There is someone I used to date who is totally blind, no eyes from birth, but he is spoiled. He couldn’t fly, so I flew back east to see him twice. Sadly, his whole body is messed up, and he eats only meats and sweets. What will happen to the poor man when his mother, who has spoiled him, dies? She is elderly, his biological grandmother, and his birth mother can teach us one lesson: do not drink during pregnancy. That is not a proper abortant. The man had FAS, Fetal alcohol syndrome, which badly affected the way he behaves towards young women and girls. I’m staying away from him because he called me names, threatened me in an email, and later hid himself from police when I demanded they locate and serve him with a promise that if he harassed and abused girls again, he’d be dead meat with them. Sadly, I have to keep an eye on things in case he kills his latest girlfriend. Because I can’t name him, I’ll never say where he’s from. I can’t name the next victim of my example of bad parenting of a disabled kid. There’s a young lady who has lots of gadgets, is bathed on a daily basis, does not speak well of even myself, and is not raised properly. The parents do not have good English skills–oh, God, if that makes it even bad or worse–and she manipulates people to get what she wants. Helen Keller, the famed writer and lecturer, was like this at a young age. Helen, as I have learned in a few biographies I’ve read of her, had a rebellious spirit, but at a ripe young age, manipulated others to give her food, did not eat properly, and the family spoiled her. The only true mentor that Helen was given was the lady Annie Sullivan Macy. That lady was great. However, far from being a Miracle Worker, Annie had her own problems. Helen was given a better opportunity for her time to do things like go to college, finishing school, and other countries so she could write and lecture. In the early nineteenth century, Laura Bridgman had the same issues. However, she was not treated too well because the doctor, or the director of the Perkins School, as it is written, tried to experiment with her. He toyed with her love of Christ, something you can never do. Helen had no Christian upbringing, and her family was ultimately sided with the Confederates in the Civil War. Southern landowners, the Kellers had servants. Helen, however old she was at the time, was rough with her dog and sister. Well, today’s modern Helen Kellers are rough with gadgets, dogs, sisters, etc. The girl I speak of is probably an only child from what I gathered about her family background. Only children, as anyone could guess, have a higher chance of being spoiled if the parents put all their energy into letting the kid run the household.
Here’s the result: Helen, having had a mentor and sibling and more educated family as a result of the mentor’s teachings, grew up to be a great lecturer, wrote a book or two about her own life, and published many books, articles, and so on and essays detailing her political views. She learned how to talk, something not thought to be possible with her deaf-blindness. The girl I see as the only child, and this is a modern day Helen who hasn’t grown out of her spoiled phase, is so spoiled that if she doesn’t get her way, she’ll bash people’s character as seen in a post that was later taken down on this site. There are many modern underdeveloped Helens out there. My mother says she saw an eleven-year-old who had her mother dressing her. What? I was wondering about this when I attended a meeting of FFCVI, Florida Families of Children with Visual Impairments. Here’s another profile that has some good parenting, and the results are astounding:
My friends Emily and Ashley, both from Florida, both good friends, and coming from a family of FSU nuts, were both born with RP. They lost their sight as slow and gradual as ever. However, Emily got married and Ashley? Well, I’m sure she’s around somewhere. Emily and Ashley are now totally blind, had good parenting, and the parents, the dad owning and managing places such as the restaurant in my old hometown, and the mom being the best person I could turn to at one time, brought the girls up to be good citizens. That included politeness, living up to good expectations, and yes, Ashley was a poet and didn’t know it. I loved Emily and Ashley, but Emily has since sneaked out of Denver, and I can’t see her anymore. Ashley and Emily both graduated from the university I could barely graduate from, and their parents did not get guardianship, steal away their dating lives, and so on. Both learned Braille music, and both have since become successful musicians in the FSU program. I love and still am loyal to FSU, even when the school was sued for discrimination by my other friend, who I will profile next. Emily and Ashley’s results are glowing: Ashley is successful in her career, and Emily and Ashley are both guide dog users. Emily is now married to a wonderful husband, and he loves her like nothing else. At least for now given the divorce rate, but don’t worry about that.
Jamie P., from Florida, is the next success story I’m profiling. Jamie and her bf Chris T., sued FSU for the way the university’s math curriculum discriminated against the blind and didn’t offer alternatives to a bad math software and PRS transmitters. Chris is a computer programmer, and I don’t care if anyone has a bad feeling about him, he is still successful in his choice of study. He wants to get a real job, and Jamie, his girlfriend, is doing psych classes I think. I haven’t checked up on her yet. However, Jamie and Chris have since moved out of Florida and into this little town called Littleton and in guess where? Good old Colorado.
There are many many more success stories I can point to, and so many more sheltered spoiled stories I can point my fingers at. It’s all, unfortunately, resting on environment and family. The family must no doubt hold all of these lives sacred, and treat these children with respect. That means no discrimination can be tolerated or allowed. Respect is earned, of course, so these children should learn how to give that. I suppose Blake could tell us how a martial art can better plant the seeds of love, respect, and dignity in the children we have just seen. If you give your kids too many toys, as parents, you know that can make them become the rulers of your household. My thing is that I want to teach my kids, for instance, that Barbie dolls aren’t real people. They can play with them, but when old enough, I want to see if they can picture Barbie blown up in real time. Barbie could cause an eating disorder if singularly focused on way too much. They say, everything in moderation.
One notable story I must point to before I close the post for the day. My dear friend, cane teacher, and dog person, Theresa Bradley, has a lot of history with blindness in her family. Her siblings, Don Risavy, Rob Risavy, and Kimberly Brenton, are all totally blind or partially blind. Don is a success, married to a lady, at least I think, and he loves talking on ham radio just as Blake does. I’ve seen his name on the list.
Rob I’ve met before, and he’s pretty cool if you know him. He’s great, and him and Don and Theresa are all FSU fans, but there is someone I want to make a joke about. Kim, a married woman with two kids, and yes, a successful blind person as well, is a Gator. Um, here’s a hint when dealing with a house divided. Don’t kill the Gators and spear them by their tails, let ’em just wander into your village and say, “I don’t know where I’m going.” Then, Theresa would walk past you with the shirt that says, “Your village called. Their idiot is missing.”
Anyhow, the Risavy family had something special about it. I spoke with the older man, the father of the family, and he says he had high hopes for his blind kids. Theresa says that there was nothing low about the expectations of the kids who were blind or going blind. I think the only change I’d make would be to explain that their loss of vision was not something to necessarily freak out over. Vision is an enhancement, and I think Theresa’s siblings are proof that nothing can stop their spirit from functioning as the body can as well. I love my big sis, and she has taught me many valuable life lessons, and used her sibs as good examples of success and possibilities. I’ve been so close to her for many years now, even since I was a girl. Yeah, we had our weird moments, crying ones, laughing ones, but all in all, I look at her family, and think to myself, “High hopes yields higher lives.” The key here in all of these profiles that I’ve featured in this post is this: the sanctity of human life was considered, and a religious upbringing of both parents was important. All of the good stories had something in common: success which was brought about by the expectations of parents, and the determinations of all the parents involved. If you neglected your kids, you might get a modern day Helen Keller who will never grow out of the “Gimme gimme gimme” stage. For one thing, all blind kids, sensory impaired kids, etc. must have control of some things in their environment, and must be loved, praised, and given high hopes and expectations. The NFB likes to play on the slogan, “Raise the bar.” However, the real good slogan they chose was “Live the lives we want.” Yes, all of these folks are living the lives they want, even Blake is in spite of living with Mom. He’s on the road to getting his own money, getting a job, and getting a real life together. Jessie, at his thirtyish stage, could move out of his parents’ home, but chooses to live there. The parents must be inviting and welcoming to their kids, and that is what both the mothers of Jessie and Blake have done. I praise all the successful parents for at least taking the time to birth the children I’ve profiled, the ones who’ve grown to be successful adults. Human life, including the lives of the disabled, is sacred and must not be harmed by abortion and abortive techniques that can ruin the lives of both mother and baby. No matter what propaganda is out there, I personally connect better with the pro lifers because if we had no guidelines and no religion that teaches pro life over pro death/choice in this country, I wouldn’t be here typing this post as I explained in an earlier post. I love my life, and my friends should love theirs too. I have lots of friends, friends who are teenagers and friends who are successful adults. The commonality that lies within all of this post is this: take the time and carry your baby to term. Don’t leave the fetus to die in a rotten pile of garbage and biohazardous materials. That fetus could be another Blake, another Beth, another Jessie, and could be the next Stevie Wonder. If you think the diseases that run in the family will catch your children, think about the problems you will face as a parent to be. You might think, “But they won’t play sports.” Think about your priority. Does your son really have to play the Super Bowl to be the child you want? Blake doesn’t play football, but tae kwon do is just as fine. He watches the New England Patriots kick butt if possible, and he still enjoys it, even without seeing the screen. He listens to the commentators.
You might think, “But she won’t be allowed on the cheerleader squad.” What? Does cheerleading take precedence over musical arts, sculpting, or other things? Does the cheerleading squad take center stage for all girls? Well, there are advantages to being blind. No need to see the models on TV, no need to read Playboy, which is porn anyhow. You might ask, about said baby girl lying in the womb, “But she can’t dance with her honey to be.” Does dancing take precedence over the time she shares with you? This is a disgrace if you say yes. I have another friend, Patrick Henry Hughes, a motivational speaker and musician. His dad would think the same thoughts when the little boy was found to be “flawed” in the eyes of doctors. Mr. Patrick John Hughes writes in a book regarding Patrick Henry that it wasn’t easy. HE said to Ellen DeGEneres that it was a “picture perfect pregnancy.” Until Patrick Henry’s debut in the world, his dad wasn’t suspecting anything. Until the boy showed signs of musical gifts, I think Mr. Hughes, the Dad at least, thought, “I can’t throw a ball with my son.” While every father wants to throw a ball with a perfect son, not all boys are able to throw. Consider Patrick Henry Hughes, for instance. He plays piano and sings. What’s wrong with that? You might think, oh, they’ll call him gay for wanting to play music. He needs to do manly activities such as football, wrestling, other sports. Do men have to play sports or wrestle? Patrick Henry never did those things because he couldn’t. However, he has a strong personality, loves everybody, and God knows that my friend Aaron is looking like the weirdest person next to me while we talk about his good stuff. Yes, he’s Irish, and I don’t know if he’s had a drink lately. However, Patrick Henry Hughes has the sweetest personality EVER! He may not have a sportsman’s body, but he has something that no abortion will ever take away. It was the Catholic upbringing of the Hughes family that ultimately stopped the abandonment and low expectations, and the Hughes parents and brothers all banded together to support each other, including Patrick Henry. People are wowed and inspired by him, but of course, he must always remember this: we all have our good points and bad points. I credit my friend Kristen for saying this, and she deserves a big hug. Those bad things about us, however, will be brought up if we can’t count our blessings. The biggest blessing that all of us can give a disabled person is life itself. We need the right to live in the world as all of my friends pictured here have. All of the profiles with good results show us that with proper care, feeding, and good praise and handling and tenderness, a disabled person can and will survive the critical childhood years with no problems. Abortion is the wrong choice because you don’t know who is gonna pop out of you, Mothers. You don’t know who is gonna spring out and say, “Hello” to you. IF I( had not come and written this, maybe the world would have not been so blessed. I thank God for my life every day when I hear so much about the cruelty of this world.
Well, I’m tired now, and I am so done typing away and giving examples of people I know and who others know that have proven successful with disability. I hope you take all these profiles to heart, and learn from the bad ones. I never name the ones who aren’t successful because of the possibility of the person running after me. Thank you all for your reading and patience with me as I count all the good stuff.

The Sanctity of Human Life: About People with Disabilities And Why Abortion of Such Children is Morally Outrageous

Dear Readers,
It has been given me that 90% of fetuses tested positive for Down’s Syndrome are aborted. Why is this, you ask. All because the couple have a distorted dream. Couples bearing children have a distorted “perfect child” in their minds. Oftentimes, couples will bear a child, and in the developed countries such as the United States, China, or India, the couple will selectively abandon or abort the “imperfect” or “inappropriate” child. I approached a woman today at church who is the director in a Life Center. Life Choices ministry is a center that cares for women who’ve had abortions, caring for such women before they try, after they’ve had abortions, and so on. There’s a thing missing though in their education and advocacy part: what about keeping babies with disabilities?
I approached this lady and said a few things to her about my life, how I was born blind, and how prenatal tests for Down’s Syndrome could lead a doctor or well meaning OB to say something like, “This child will be a vegetable.” The doctor could talk us into getting an abortion, which my partner and i would never do. I’ve spoken many times about this prospect, and it never has crossed my mind that I would ever do something like this. there’s a couple of words that pop up in my mental scree: more like three words. Margaret Jeanne Hatch. She was born in a suburb in Virginia with Down’s. She has a deep love of God and Christ, and was not allowed to go to church due to group home restrictions and guardianship. She’s a hero in my eyes because she got rid of her parents’ and family’s care. She did not want to live with restrictive guardians, and people tried to hide her from the world, from God, from Jesus. However, Jenny (that’s what we called her later) became a Christian and she worships God freely and lives in the world. I honestly believe it should be illegal to abort babies with disabilities, and parents should be educated about the true lives and thoughts of people with disabilities.
I’ll give a few examples of why the parents should be more active in kids with disabilities’ lives. I’ll tell you what. Jessie, a blind guy from Florida, was born this way. Had his mother not been a Hispanic Catholic, not been informed enough, not understood that blindness was minor compared to the stillborn baby she had had before, she probably would have aborted the baby. Guess what? Jessie is a lively, employed, full living man. He jokes around online, has the most broken humor I’ve ever thought of, and calls Blake every weird name in the book. Well, not bad names, just the funniest things that make us laugh. Had Jessie not been given the chance at life, where would I be? What about myself?
Had my own mother not understood that life was a choice, even if she had me out of wedlock, I would not be writing this post today. I would never have had the opportunities I had, but I have a long way to go. I still have to marry, get a house, raise a family, do normal things that nobody would take for granted had they not realized that if I were sighted, it would just happen. Because I’m blind, and because of my status as an illegitimate child of some numb nut who doesn’t know me, I’m sorry, but I still need more. I don’t have a Bachelor’s in English. I don’t have my degree completed, yet all my sighted friends are working, with jobs, etc. There is a huge proportion of disabled unemployed people. Jessie is the luckiest dog on the planet. Well, a lucky man. He found the job and had all the right people in his life.
Prenatal testing is not ethical, whether a woman is 40 or 25. IF Blake and I decided to have a family naturally, we’d have to know our OBGYN doc and decide, is this doctor pro life? We’d have to have a lot of stuff to think about. I would never kill or give up a child in a happy marital setting. There’s a few reasons why: stability, proof of abilities, and the fact that others are trying to attack our abilities due to blindness and for me, the so called mental illness. The mental issues have been made public knowledge unlawfully, so I’ll say this once and once only in this writing: I don’t have mental illness as a result of any epigenetic coding. It can go away if the environment and stress factors are different. For instance, if I’m able to speak with Blake on a regular basis, if I’m able to choose to go somewhere, the infrastructure is perfectly fine, and best of all, if job opportunities and work recruitment is better. I won’t be happier in an environment with rurality in it like Titusville was. I can’t fathom myself back in the Space Coast in Florida. You would think Titusville had the opportunities, but most of its VI citizenry were elders, retired folks, etc. AARP robbed me of the chance to meet younger individuals with a mentoring mindset so I could get a job.
If we continue to euthanize and abort the disabled, we will have no acceptance of difference. Blake and I are different. If we want to have a baby with Down’s, that’s our right. We will have such a baby, and we could adopt such a child. In developing countries, I’ve read stuff about a blind boy, a baby for this matter, who was given a death mass. What are you talking about, you might ask? Well, the parents had no education, no information about blindness as being a minor setback, no tragic accident. So the parents decided to make it so the baby died. What an outrage! If I ever gave birth to a baby with a developmental disability, however, I would have to track how the child develops. If the baby is able, and it grows into a man or woman, I’d never doubt the capacity of said child. I would want my Down’s or whatever kid to get married. I hope, and I pray, that women all over the world will see this post and ask themselves, why am I making the choice to kill my baby? Yes, I was pro choice, and I believe to some degree that if a lady could NOT bear children naturally, she should have a choice. But not to kill a baby with a disability. Not for the sake of the distorted dream of perfection in the human race. I personally am affected if anyone passes laws that say these women who are child bearers must have prenatal tests. I would ban such tests. I’ll say why. I don’t want my fellow disabled individuals to be deemed inappropriate for life. Life is not a club. Life is God’s only love and joy. Life is what God wants us to experience, and to have forever. The human race will have imperfect people in it. I know plenty of young individuals who are blind, but I have a friend named Lici. She’s blind and employed, taking over someone’s old job. Lici was a childhood pal of mine, and we used to get at each other. Had prenatal testing detected her blindness, what would have happened with her mom? Lici said she’d made such a wrong choice, but I don’t want to say she’s bad for doing it. I forgive her for doing so. There are consequences for sex, and I am aware. However, I don’t want my temple, my body, to become someone’s playground for rape and incest. To prevent this, throughout my life, I’ve tried to keep out of the brothers’ bed, keep away from other men except for the ones I’ve been in relationships with, and I’ve never traveled at night past a certain time unless I’m in a taxicab. If not, there’s no way I can travel. I’d have to have spent the night in a hotel as my friend Art would’ve asked me to do. I had to travel once at midnight, and had to put Access A Ride on Will Call because of the banquet I wanted to attend, and stuff happened and it was a long thing. I was ultimately forced to travel at night, and afraid, and had no cell phone. Bad idea.
Fortunately, no man approached me with the crazy psychological state of “I want to get further drunk.” Men didn’t touch me that night, and I was blessed to have gotten home in a timely manner to go to bed, straight to bed, no passing Go or collecting money on the way. Well, I probably would have collected $200.
The point is that there are consequences for every action, and Blake would’ve probably been upset with whoever did what ever to me, and we would’ve had to pay for anything. The thing is that women cannot pay for the long suffering of an adult child who goes to jail for murder or something. I wonder if Ted Bundy’s mom would’ve done away with the boy who’d been the murder suspect and later executed had she known that Ted would have an epigenetic brain structure that would lend itself to a murderous personality. Mr. Bundy was executed for his bad behavior around women and his killing of vulnerable individuals. Bundy also had this weird obsession with porn. Ugh.
I don’t think epigenetics would work on blind people. I don’t think there’s any exucse to kill a baby because if it kills as an adult, it’s responsible for its actions. Well, as a pro life advocate, I will never know if I will indeed witness women aborting their children over disability or gender selection. Anyway, company just walked in the door. Ah, I’ll do a Part 2 later.

If You Do One Thing Today – Share this, You Will Be Saving A Life #SuicideHotlines

I could’ve committed such things. But suicidal thoughts are no good. It’s always good to talk to others that you trust, however, I had no supports. There was no hotline, and I was judged as a bad person for having suicidal thoughts. This is an important post, and I hope you all will read this. Especially if you have a friend or relative with these problems. Talk to that person, let them make a judgment based on something that respects the sanctity of human life.

A Few Things I Can Remember and Things About Me You Should Know

Dear Readers, I’ll never forget the loss of dignity I experienced when my mother said, in a threatening manner, not even regarding the fact that I was a person who had a right to feel the way I did, “Forget about Orien and I won’t go up on the meds.” Medications and threats of chemical restraint was eminent in the home while I lived there. It reminds me of stuff that Blake told me, stuff I can’t cover here. I want to make one thing clear: I’m not snotty. What? I’m not. I am a person, and as a disabled woman, I find it hard to live in the world. Please if you may, go to the Jacobus tenBroek Law Symposium agenda for this year, and read the theme. We’re disabled, Blake and I, and we have a right to live in this world. We have a right to basic things such as the right to freedom of movement, which was denied me so many times. Both of us can cook, clean, manage a home. We worked hard for the money, so we won’t have it taken from us because we’re disabled. When I was told that Blake’s spiritual health could be in some way affected by some of the tragic events of last year, I felt like a memory and a bit of a mini flashback surfaced, a memory of my mother’s words. I pulled them out into my little mental screen: “Forget about love and I won’t make you take a higher dose of medication.” At nineteen! Well, even with guardianship, it allowed chemical restraint to occur. As I am someone who does not believe that chemicals are a good idea, the only reason I’d chemically restrain someone in my family is the following: sexual offenses, criminal drunken or drugged behavior, and wild mental illness such as schizophrenia and things, tendencies to wish to kill somebody, or in the extreme, abuse toward a spouse or children that cannot be contained unless chemicals are used. For the sexual offenses, I would never, ever want a male running around and preying on kids. Therefore, even if it were an uncle, my own child, etc., I’d get the guardianship of that person, then put them under chemical castration. Sounds weird, but that happens to men who are serial rapists and predators and so on. They are treated in this manner, and if they are caught wanting to do things with kids, they get an up dose in the castration meds. Oops. Well, you can’t tell me or Blake to stop making each other happy. We can’t stop loving each other, and in this way, restraining him or myself is a felony. I’m free of my parents, almost, but poor poor Nick. I must say, he is probably being restrained unnecessarily. IF anyone in my circle is falsely imprisoned, including myself or Nick or Blake or even my dear friend Haley, who is the sweetest person in the world, I would say press charges of felony false imprisonment. This is something I can’t even get done to the attacker. My personal character could have been compromised, and I’ll just say one thing regarding those incidents Over the past week. It’s been a rough week, and I need help, friends, prayer, and encouragement. At least I took a shower this morning, I went to work, and had a hundred page document to file and remove tractor feeds for. My boss was great, but I forgot about what was supposed to be separated. Oops. Then, oh the joys of computers. We had a router problem, and it happened just twenty minutes before I was to leave. I had to leave due to the fact that the computer and internet was not working properly, and now I have projects I have to do over all again. Ugh! I was going to do links to searches I would do for price comparisons on items the boss needed, and he put me in charge of it. Well, after the recent stuff, I could barely touch the keys. I was sitting at my desk, the stuff running through my head, and the court’s verdict was no comfort to me or anyone in the same situation. I am trying to get through all this with grace and dignity, but I want to see Blake for Valentine’s Day. I know, Mom, you are concerned that he has the same issue that your lost son had, but it’s a different angle. One note for my friends in Camp Verde, I love you all, and all we need to do is stand with each other and help Blake with what he may need in times of crisis. He has spiritual wants and desires like all of us. Blake has a dream of moving here, and that dream will be true one day. Well, it could come true sooner rather than later. I’ve already worked with him on what to do. I have a prayer I will write in the bottom of the blog entry for a few minutes. No, a few lines. Let me say though, those awful and humiliating words don’t leave my head. What if I were in Florida and my poor mother, embezzling my thoughts like leftovers in a pot, extorting love and emotions like it’s garbage, says, “Forget about Blake and I won’t make you take a huge dose of medication.” Just take that same thing she said about Orien and replace it with Blake’s name. Oh, … God, I know you made me the way I am, but restraints with chemicals are not necessary. When I went down on medications, I found that my womanly mark returned. Yeah, it means a mess on the chairs, laundry, stuff on the back of one’s skirt and so on, but it’s better than worrying if you’re 28 and already going to be 80 or 40 years old, and worrying if your body is broken already due to fat and stuff. Ugh! The doctors tested my blood and found sugar in the urine sample they had, and those docs said, “Prediabetes.” Really? I don’t believe it, and I think the extreme and undue adverse feelings I had after my attacks and all the work I had to put into getting some situations taken care of caused the undue illness which led to me canceling my last show. Wow. Let me say this, I won’t write exactly why the words I am remembering are fresh in my mind. Just because you live with someone doesn’t mean they will own you. I don’t want to live with anyone but Blake and our offspring, should we have any at all. Let me also say this: I don’t think that God is happy with some of the stuff that we’re going through. I wrote this poem about a crucifixion. Writing such a poem should not be illegal, right? IS it right to write my opinions, my feelings, in a blog? What the heck is wrong with me expressing freely the fact that such attacks made me feel like I was dead for three days, ill for another, and Blake was the only protector I had from the sting of Hell. I want to go ahead and lift my friends in Camp Verde up in prayer, right about now. For Kathy, I lift you in prayer. God, please come to her. Reveal yourself to her in ways she can understand. Speak to her, however you feel it should be done is how it will be done. Lord, Kathy needs you as much as I do too. Lord, Blake adores you, so protect Blake from any separations from you. Protect Kathy from temptation, and I will say this much too. Please, reveal my true self to her as well. I’m lifting my new friend Pattie, my Blake’s “one true Pattie” up in prayer too. Give her the wisdom to know the way to help all of us involved in the situations we’re in. Lord, please help Kathy in all ways. Shower her with your love and peace, let her know that I do not possess your son, dear one. Why am I saying this! Continue to give her the strength to grieve her lost son, and with Chad at your side, give her the peace of mind to know that Blake is in good hands with me every time he goes. Blake wants to be with me, so Lord, help her to see the things she cannot change such as feelings, emotions, things he will and can do, and help her to see the things she can change such as her own problems. Let me help her, and let us help each other. God, I feel sometimes like no one is listening to me, and I am being threatened with forfeiture of “privileges” on the Faith-talk list for NFB Net. I was recently threatened because of the attacks I suffered just for helping my dear friend Nick. I feel like nobody cares, and nobody wants to talk about it with me, and because some other people post rude comments to me, I want your help. You are the only one who can help me, Lord. Help us all please. I praise you for the sky, the dawn, the sun, and Blake’s laugh, Kathy’s sweet voice over the phone when I accidentally called her like twice. Lord, I want you to use Kathy and Blake for good things, and help us all survive this tumultuous time in our lives. Lord, as Mary said, your will be done. I am the handmaiden of the Lord, may it be done according to your will. Amen.

The Court Day

Dear friends,
Unfortunately, we have a serious case of internet crime on our hands. We do not have any way of restraining the girl responsible for all the trashy comments, impeding my job, getting my confidential information, and smearing my character. Well, she has not won. Even if the court denied the restraining order, I want to make one thing clear: the manipulations, stealing of confidential information, and getting involved with MY rehab info, is not allowed. All this being said, any preadolescent attacks and bad writing will be found and copied and I will go after the author of said writings for slander. I bathed whenever I bathe, and I will not be accused of doing otherwise. I’ve got photos that state that whoever did this does not bathe, does not brush her hair, and so on.
The same person thinks she’s the Queen of everything, but let me make another thing clear: I’m not all that either. She’s not gonna come near me at all. She can’t. Not if I do what I think I’m going to do next.
The next strategy is to let the Colorado Center know what kind of trouble the girl caused for me and some friends. The kind of stuff she wrote on Twitter was not imminent danger. Oh yes, I know, it may mean you can continue to torture me, Queen M—-, but I”m sorry, you can’t do this. If you continue, you could indeed land me in the pits of a grave. I could die if you did the wrong stuff. For more information, I’d watch the movie Cyberbully. Listen carefully to Taylor’s reaction to the fake profile in the film. Listen and choose what you think you would like for your life, Queen Bee. See if you can figure out what this lady in the film was exposed to. The girl, Taylor, was approached by a fake male profile. Now, I have to write a Colorado Congressman and see if maybe a certain antibullying and antiharassment act can be passed to include online out of state contacts. You say you’ll leave me alone, but you also said, in clear words, to “suffer for all you’ve done.” Calling me a bitch is wrong, and I have the stuff and a file on my computer, and I’ll collect more stuff to consider. Consider my feelings about this matter, Ma’am.
You could be a fake person, or you could be real, but if you were a real person, threatening to kill or maim me, you could land yourself a restraining order. Especially, I must add, if you’re at CCB and trying to cause damage. For now, I’m going to say this: victory will be mine because I’m going to do some more monitoring. I will not respond unless you are threatening me, but calling me obscenities and lacing my tweets with such things will get a retweet. Any threats? That’s right, any threats and that’ll be it. Threats to kill or lock me away are stupid, and I think you and others involved should be evaluated for psychological reasons.
Saying that someone doesn’t want to associate with me is stupid. You won’t win, and you can’t, even if the order was denied, you still lie, slander, and steal confidential information about me from other people or you could do it from Colorado rehab itself. So stay out of here, don’t come here, but if you do, I’m sorry, but you’ll be doomed. I’m sorry, whoever you are, the Queen of Everything will lose everything. It’s not funny and don’t think you’re reading the blog to be seriously desperate to get rid of me. IF you wanted to seriously get rid of me, I’ll tell you what, Congress here will decide what happens.
Say hello to the true Queen of Denver, me, Beth, and you’ll do what I want, what I say, and everything will be fine. You say I’m bad? Well, you messed with me in my voicemail, on my Twitter, on my Facebook, everywhere. Speaking your mind is not the same as cussing people out, threatening them, calling me names, you’ve done this long enough. The effects don’t linger much, but I will see that any younger personalities are protected. Anyone under seventeen reading this knows the lingering effects of bullies and their stupid stuff. If this lady were in school with me, I’d automatically do the right thing: get a restraining order, kick her out of high school, etc. She needs to take a bath, eat food that is for real, and date only men in her locale, that’s it. No more Jeremiah Ticket, Blink Nation, and so on. Just stick to the old home boys in your hometown, and I bet somebody will clean this person up.
Sorry, if anyone wants to tell me why I shouldn’t be alive, write it here. Otherwise, I’m breathing, I’m walking, talking, and yes, I’m actively seeking to get rid of bullies and Queens and so on who try and manipulate and steal others’ friendships like they think they’re in middle school. It’s over, and I won’t go back to court unless the Queen Bee approaches me.
Love to all my fans,

My Day In Words

Dear readers,
I went to work today, thinking I could not do a thing. I got an email from the boss supervisor saying I needed to do price comparisons, well, I found pretty low prices on stuff. That’s all I can say about work.
I”m sorry, but the recent attacks not only caused me to break down on an audio tweet, but it affected my sleep and concentration at work. Bullying, harassment, and continued threats to “get the authorities on you” will not help the situation. Let me explain, I do not have serious mental illness. When I contacted the officers in Denver about the recent attacks, I explained that the persons responsible did not seem to have any psychological diagnosis, and had made some illicit and untruthful things about me public. Let me say it again: I bathed. But I’m about to describe what happens when you don’t bathe.
First off, if your hair’s curly like mine, your hair becomes knotted and tangled. Little girls get this, and so do women, but tangled hair doesn’t look nice. What am I? Some rebel lady or biker babe? Oops, I forgot, I’m not.
Let me say this again also. Anything about the incompetence order or incapacitation is not public knowledge for all the world to see. The public mentions were proof that whoever is responsible for the attack had no regard for human dignity, no regard for human freedoms, etc. The Constitution says clearly, and I quote and paraphrase slightly, that no citizen shall be denied liberty, life, and the pursuit of happiness without due process of the law. The attacker did not have any regard for all this, and has she read a social studies book lately? Or the Constitution, has she read this yet?
Well, that’s all.
Company has arrived!

The Crucified

The Crucified
By Beth Taurasi

I have carried this cross for 28 years,
I hear the crowd’s roaring through my ears,
“We want no friend but Her, we want no God but Brahma,
Visnu, Ra, and other gods besides, we want drama.”
I am feeling the weight of my sins upon me,
I am crawling to Galgatha’s Hill,
I feel that I’m being martyred because I’m not able to see,
It’s my fault that I’m mentally ill,
My Blake is weeping, profusely with the tears
And I wipe my veil across his beautiful face,
The print of his face, engraved through the years,
Says he will love beyond my death, beyond time and space,
I’m beaten by a girl with long black hair,
Holding a whip in her hand.
She says, “You’re a witch and a bitch and a snitch,”
She says she’s getting me banned
From all my life, not just Facebook and Twitter,
But all the things that connect me to Blake,
And while he weeps for the loss of his bitter
Cold tears pouring into the lake,
HE screams like a man and a banshee combined,
“Let her go, or I’ll throw the whip upon you.”
The black haired witch keeps throwing her wand,
And says, “I’ll crucify you too.”
I lay on the cross, engraved with a snare,
Swastikas, hearts, and a dagger,
“She bossed Blake around, she does not bathe”
“She has nothing but a body like a dragger.”
Blake lies next to me, no cross beneath,
Weeps so hard, he can’t speak.
He touches my dying face, etched in blue with a sheath
And opens my garments and takes a peak.
He takes the rope in his hand, throws it around.
The black haired witch stops and says,
“If you touch that dog on the cross tonight,
You shall join her round and round.”
Blake says, “You are false, you goddess of Hate!”
The crowd does not hear his cries.
The crowd stands around me, saying the same things,
“If you think you’re all that, stop telling lies.”
I say, “It is finished, Blake, go to your mother.”
But Blake throws himself on top of me.
HE wants to pull me out of this Hell that I’ve seen,
And says, “I love you. Come to me.”
His dear mother, standing close by me,
Says, “This witch who killed my beautiful girl,
She will pay for this in the pits of fire,
And we won’t see even a curl
OF her long black hair, the hapless hag,
She does not know what to do.
She only will sit, boast, and brag,
That she killed a woman like you.”
The woman comes to me, then taps my side.
But one of the men in the crowd,
Pulls a lance out, and strikes my waist,
Saying, “Get her a torn, black shroud.”
My body is buried, somehow in a tomb,
Blake stands by me, crying his lament.
HE says, “You horrible, falsehoods, lies!
Why would you be so malcontent?”
The next hour dawns light, my day breaks through.
I hear a voice, though you might think me dead.
“Beth, I am your Lord, your Savior, your King.
They did not do this just to you.”
They crucified my Son, Jesus, for you,
So you don’t have to feel the devil’s sting.
I’m doing what your dear husband has said once again,
I’m taking you out of this mess!
The black haired witch who tried to harm you,
I’m taking her away from the press,
I’m putting her under, I’m setting her down,
She will never be my Bride,
I swear to God’s right hand, her wedding gown
Will be torn as the shroud you hide.”
I stand up, the cloths fall off of me,
And Blake wonders what has happened.
You think the tomb is open, … what? I”m alive?
There, on the empty cross, Blake says,
“I shall burn this, the charges will no longer stand
Because the Black Haired Witch is banned.”
A bonfire burns, a grate is open,
Blake hands me his lovely dark face,
I stroke his head sweetly, and I cry too weak, to open
My dry and bloody lips, I say,
“Blake, I heard the voice of my Savior cry out
That the witch will burn, will never see me again.
She tried to kill me in the name of Drama,
And left me to die in the rain.”
I love you, Blake, you are my only link
To the world I could never imagine I’d live,
But I wish the witch would have some reason to Sink,
And in to the fire, she’d dive.”
Blake suddenly cries out, “My lover, my life!”
His tears calling to God with joy.
The rain begins to fall, and he takes me in his arms,
Unlike the others, the ones who act like a boy.
He says, “Come with me, my lady of love,
I will take you into my arms
Forever and ever, no witch does destroy us,
Black hair and brown, or any charms.”
For three days, I’d lain there, asleep in the night,
But when my true love’s kiss came near,
I arose like the princess who had seen her knight,
And the kiss burned my heart like a flame!
Blake said, “I will kill every dragon, witch, and goblin
That ever flies near your domain.
And no, not a single evil thing
Will ever leave you to die in the rain.”
I take my lover’s hand, and lead him away,
We dance in the rain all night,
And I can sense my true Lord smiling,
My jesus, the King of the light.

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