My financial whoes, what disability!, and a press conversation I had recently this morning. Blah!

Dear Diary,

I’m better at writing in the blog at the computer, so I’m writing from my pc keyboard.  What was I thinking of posting WordPress stuff from my phone?  At least it works, but I’d like to mediate comments from my phone, if possible.  Blake is sitting there, being a weirdo.  He’s a sweet thing, and he always has.  I talked to some communications people at a very important organization that fights on behalf of civil liberty in America, and they got some info about the guardianship issues I’ve faced, the work adjustment being over I was able to talk.  Now, I’m out of energy, done, low, down, blah.  I can’t think for once that I’m gonna wake up.  I’m a night owl, and I better darn right be ready to wake up at like seven because Melaina, my lady, is coming to do the housework again.  I got sick, and so the sick stuff is supposed to be cleaned up, and I’m not sure about mopping the floor again.  I’m so sick of being sick, so I’m gonna have to make a better effort to cook more.  Yeah, I should cook more and longer.  Coud it have been the lasagna?  Or could it have been the stomach viruses that inhabited the very dark reaches of food supplies?  Ewwwww.  I’m done with being sick.

Meanwhile, in other news, the Terrorists are bombing Iraq in the use of American tanks and so on.  Oh my God, we made a pretty bad decision.  Why do Muslims expect us to convert to Islam?  I did that, and it was the worst decision of my whole life, and that’s because Deq, the only thing in the whole world I would trust within the faith, strayed and talked trash about Americans sometimes, thinking some people actually believed that Americans were bad news.  Um, we Americans believe people should be free to marry whomever they choose.  Deq, of c ourse, I was afraid he’d be given a Muslim daughter of Somali origin.  Of course, the brothers and their bad attitude about blindness with regards to marriage didn’t help at all.  Deq is blind, but he has a brain.  Blind people all have brains, but face this fact, I will not, and will not ever marry a Muslim guy who thinks his main aim is to take care of a poor pitiful blind woman.  Sorry, but that’s the main reason for my leaving.  Yes, it may sound like I’m a bad believer, but I can’t believe a religion whose followers don’t tolerate blind women marrying blind men.  Sighted people are worse than gum on the bottom of my shoe when it comes to their atrtitudes about blindness.  Blake, realizing that he and I could make something happen, made it happen, but marriage is on hold because of one solitary word: tragedy.  People aren’t getting that blindness is contributing in some poor way to Blake’s infantilization, and I’m not one to discuss further what happened.  Only one thing remains: How am I going to marry Blake?  Christine, his dear aunt, is lost and needs a prayer or two.  She’s neglected her Catholicism, which she’d practiced for years till she married Blake’s mother’s brother.  Christine thought I was disrespectful and made us stay apart.  I have a few words for you, lady, “Do you think that’s appropriate to do that just because I’m handicapped?  Think before you act and call Blake or Cathy on this.  I want to see Blake.  I will never stop till Blake is in my arms, till Blake is forever with me, in union, in a convenant called marriage which we will make before our Creator, who endowed us, like it or not, with certain inalienable rights.”  I mean it.  Those are my words.  I’m not taking them back.  I swear to God, there’s nothing you can do to break me and Blake up.  IF that’s your goal, well, you didn’t succeed, and will never succeed.  I’ve had it to the brim with guys breaking my heart, leaving me for blindness reasons or because of guardianship.  You encouraged Cathy to infantilize Blake, and this is what you will have to do: go back to God.  Pray about this, read the Bible, go back to your Creator.  He’s waiting to accept you back with open arms.  You are a lost woman, I’m afraid to say it, you are lost as usual, not getting the point.  I innocently spoke of a covenant that God rendered years ago, and you tried to destroy us.  So take this: let me see Blake, not destroy us.  Do not tell anyone that I am not the right person for Blake.  I want to see him, and he’s the only thing I want.  I want someone blind, understanding, strong, etc.  Jobs are filth and a fleshly requirement that Blake and I are likely not to have in this bad economy.  So there.  Just pray.  God will show you the way.

As if anyone could ever say no, my dad texted me this morning.  He says, “Have a good day.”  Oh, ok.  I wrote, “I will.”  Thank God, the dictation works.  I love voice input.  It’s a breee for me.

My thoughts and worries

I am so worried about stuff. It isn’t even funny, I’m just worried about stuff. For one I’m very afraid the blake might break up with me. For another I don’t know if I could ever be sufficient enough to complete school and college. For a third thing I just bought this phone not too long ago, and my parents really don’t understand. They will never get why I needed to buy a new phone. It all began with work, a place where everybody was disabled and everybody had to do something. It was all Wednesday carriage return I was sitting in my apartment when Access A Ride showed up. They called my phone and I could not answer it because it did not ring. I miss my work and that was awful absolutely awful. So, I decided that I would have to miss a day of work, even though blake was so enraged after that. What should I do? What should i do at all? Jason Owens were probably have looked at me and said well you can get a job. And it was not the same after when I miss work, I was very very very mad at myself. Jason might have said, quote Beth you really need a job. Quote I don’t care. Anyway I I am absolutely amazed at what some people call my blindness factor. Continue reading “My thoughts and worries”

My first WordPress post from my phone

Hello, this is Beth. I just wanted to say how much I really enjoyed using WordPress on my computer. It’s been very funny, but blake is sitting there watching a be back game. They shut out the Rockies practicing about 6 to 10 its very weird to watch. I can’t believe they’re doing all this to me its so funny. Anyway, I really enjoy using WordPress for all its worth and I h Continue reading “My first WordPress post from my phone”

My New Phone and Other Matters

Dear Diary,

I got a new phone.  Shoot, I can’t even set up voicemail, so Idk what to do.  I”m really having problems trying to answer cals, and that will have me screwed, so all anyone can do is text me.

I can do voice input for texts and stuff, so it’s like, oh ok.  Blake understands, he’s that sweet, and he doesn’t ever fail me.  I just want to set up my voicemail and get over things.  The new phone is an Android for those of you who don’t know, but it was $50 at the store, plus I changed the plan.  I”m on the forty dollar plan, but since I’m a new Cricket customer no more, I don’t get the rebate, but I don’t pay that much.  I just had to pay the first bill, the phone price, and then the case.  $106 total!  Whoa.  Then I had to buy stuff for my audition.  Great.  I want more money to help with the bills.  Somebody, oh God, I better get help with bills.  I need the bills to be paid on time.  I’ll have to cut back on all restaurant expenses, but food stamps are down low.  So I can’t necessarily cut back on food and supplies.  I always had Melaina shopping for a few things, not a lot, because of the food stamps and limited income.  Shoot, it’s not funny to tout that much income.  Wells Fargo didn’t send me Braille statements so I’m totally behind on accounting stuff.  What the hell am I going to do!  But with this new phone, I don’t know what to do.

I hope Melaina and I can help get voicemail set up and have it set up so that I can do speaker and so on so that the dial pad is right there and I can access the Nine key when the door calls.  That sort of thing.

Art says he should’ve just loaned me a couple hundred bucks, but Cricket will charge full price for an iphone, and there’s no way I can get it, so it’s Droid for me right now.  My phone is nice, but it needs work on accessibility issues.  We took all the security off so that I didn’t have to unlock the phone using a hard stroke of the screen.  I might change that as I get better at this, but no one is qualified to train me on my own phone.  I feel embarrassed and frustrated all at the same time.  Plus I can’t let Skype mess around with my call features.  Oops.  Waht the hell am I going to do!

Done with Work Adjustment Hopefully No Trials, Just Employment

Dear Diary,

Well, I”m done.  Work adjustment is so over, so yesterday.  I’m so done with having to go to BAyaud.  I”m so done having to deal with Access A Ride, and not getting paid.  Oh yeah, oh yeah.  It’s RJ’s birthday too, in Florida, midnight.  Holy crap, I’m happy.  Blake had a beer, a root beer from Taco Bell.  RJ doesn’t know what he wants for his birthday, and he needs a new computer.  Holy God, I’m so going to party all weekend and all through June.  Look out, Shelton I’m on my way.

My audition was welcomed by the ladies, Richele and Jessey, and they were like, “Oh my God.  That is so cool.”  They were happy.  Jessey knows I can make progress, but I’m so done with trying to have to demonstrate stuff, I just wanna be free of all the bonds that hold me in a box.  I need Blake, and marrying Blake is the only thing I really want to do that is significant.  I’ll try for a job, but I won’t be surprised if I’m turned down.  Blind people are not always hired.  Mentally ill people are never hired.  However, I need benefits with the job.  I don’t know quite what will happen.\

My real career goal is perhaps to record music, but if that’s not possible, I’ll try the teaching technology to others, or to teach Braille.  The Braille cert isn’t hard to get if you know your slate and stylus.  Plus I have to teach UEB or something.  I don’t know what else to do now.

Tribute to Maya Angelou

You had a difficult girlhood, something I don’t understand.

You could bring me to tears if you wanted, or sweep me across the land,

I could find wisdom from your pearls hidden in beach sand,

But Maya, your words are clearer to me than ever before

Before I shut the door.


You passed into the state of womanhood, fearing not what you’d find,

Looking carefully at your figure, you didn’t seem to mind,

Whatever the cause of your frustrations, you didn’t just give up

And sit on your behind.


Maya, I hope you rest now, knowing you brought peace

To all of us, across the nation, across the head full of grease.

You came of age at a time when things weren’t so bright,

So rest now, enjoy God’s Heavenly light.

Letter to You At 17

I wrote this shortly after Jessey, probably the more understanding of most people, and I had a heated discussion about the whole mess up with Blake.  Blake, of course, refuses to get involved with me and her, so she just can’t say I lied.


Dear Beth at 17,

                If I could only look at myself in the mirror, or at least you, you didn’t seem so beautiful.  What happened to you was uncalled for: everything from the whole dating scene to the guardianship to your unemployable situation at the Daytona Beach rehab place you went to.  Remember?  Do you even remember Jason, the trombonist in the marching band?  Hah.  At only 17, I wish the following:

  1. That I was able to do things in the music industry.
  2. That I was working at McDonald’s.  Yeah, it wasn’t the best job, but at seventeen, I wish I had an internship.  What was Danny doing at that age?  Need I remind you that Danny is your half brother, your brother by a mom who probably didn’t want you at that age and a dad who said, “Just put her away”, and guess where he was?  Internships, cross country track captain, etc.  No, I forgot who the captain was, but who cares.

                As a seventeen-year-old, the questions I had to ask were the following: who did I want to date, where were my desires, what was my true self?  But at fourteen, there were more complications.  My mother and dad literally tried to neuter me, worse than what you’d do to people in the forties.  What?  What does that mean, your seventeen-year-old self asks?  It is apparent that this letter isn’t directed at my current self, but at you.  When you were born, you were at first the cutest thing in the entire universe.  Sorry, but the princess act was deterred because your mother deemed it “Unreal.”  Now you think Rehab can bail you out now, but at seventeen, you are currently sick of the psychiatrist who treated you like dirt, sick of not being allowed to see Jason, and who was Jason?  Yes, Jason.  You forgot.  You asked about him, wanted to see him, could have dated him, and so on.  Because of you, I am here, sitting at a desk, not my desk, not a grand table in a grand dining room in a hallway that I purchase myself, but a grand, well, not so grand desk at a place where the lady calls you in to her office, says you lied to her about your boyfriend coming to see you.  What?  Did you realize that Blake Tucker, who would later be your future husband/boyfriend whatever you call him, could not come to see you after all because of money, family, and other things?  It is obvious no matter what I try to tell the people here that they believe that I am stuck.  Stuck in the state of stuck is more like it.  Beth, you haven’t got a clue.  At this age, you are about to venture out into a world that doesn’t like you, doesn’t care about you, won’t accept you.  At 27, I am poor, not able to pay debts, not able to pay things except for regular bills, and I still have to eat.  I still have to drink the water around me, eat food, brush my hair, wash myself, soap my body, shave my unfeminine legs, etc.  I still have to get the mud off my plate.  But absolutely not while getting a “relevant” job.  I cannot at the least do call center work that is fast paced and entails me to work nights.  Transportation would not be safe and reliable at night, and then there’s criminals who are willing to mug or rape or steal my phone, purse, or my sexual space.  What EVER!

                As a 30-year-old, what will I be?  I expect to be married by then, in my element, in a job that I enjoy.  What will I do?  Will Blake do what he says he’s gonna do?  I wanted to make some room for him to come, but alas, the one thing that is between us is between us: his mother.  She is so ill and unable to think about what she truly needs that now she can’t drink alcohol.  Thank God her own husband threw the liquor into the sink, into the trash.  What will you be at fifty?  Just like Cathy?  Beth, think.  You at 17 is not a pleasant person, and it doesn’t help that your parents don’t like you, abused you emotionally and psychologically, and now they come to love the woman that is 27 and in CO?  What the …?  This doesn’t make sense.  I can only think of a few things that could make that possible: that your parents are evil, that they are sucking you into a whirlpool of stuff you can’t get out of, that they are unworthy of you as a daughter, all of the above.  I guess all of the above.  At 17, this is how they were.  At 27, ten years later, this is what they decide: they will not bail you out.  I am seriously considering the last option.  I must become something that I want to be, and I’m sick of being compared to Christina and Britney.  I’m Beth for God’s sake.  I am a beautiful personality, but in body, I must be the worst thing ever.  But then why does Blake love me?  It’s obvious, there’s something wrong with anyone who does, according to your parents.  Your parents, as it turns out, are liars.  They lied about their intentions, lied about you because of their concerns.  Let them try, but they cannot violate your rights.  Help me.

Help me, you are my only hope.


Beth at 27