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.
Beth

Author: denverqueen

My name is Beth. I'm blind from birth and enjoy the blogging atmosphere. I am a creative person, a musician, a writer, etc. This is me. Take it or leave it.

2 thoughts on “To My Twitter Followers, Read This If You Want to Get to Know Me At All”

  1. Well written again, beth! it’s true we are and I read this post despite being your friend for just a little over a year and even though you say one can ask whatever of you I still respect the boundaries if there are any, because there’s appropriate and there’s inappropriate as far as asking questions go. You’re a great person despite what others have said about you and what was said about you was obviously unforgivable We’re all weird in our own sort of ways too. irreplaceable

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  2. I just found your comment. Just thinking about Beyonce’s old song, Irreplaceable. But here’s another thing: if anyone thinks they can have another Blake in a minute, they’re wrong. Beyonce versus myself. Beyonce says in the song, “I can have another you in a minute, you can pack all your bags.” Well, Beyonce, no, you can’t have another Jay Z. I can’t get another Blake, someone who cares, someone who wants to help in all instances, etc. I can’t have another Kyle on my blog. IF there were two Kyles commenting on my blog posts, I’d be confused. lol But Two guys called Kyle Cogan would be weird. lol

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