rosyxxx's journal

I was, and have been really enjoying the last couple of days... it has been a switch from the paces that my meditation practice has been putting me through. It's as if the universe was just sending me obstacles to see what I would do with them.. how I would handle them... in other words, testing my character. And that hasn't been happening for the last three days.

Until about three hours ago...

I was at the end of my shift, and literally just bursting with energy. All the love I had been sending out to people, and that they had sent back to me, was just vibrating. The last set, I found myself face to face with a guy who had a sour look on his face. No matter, I had seen those kinds of faces earlier, and had managed to turn their frowns upside down. I made a lot of people smile with the help of my 'friends'. This dude, however, was hellbent on being pissy. I smiled wide, I leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek, and he asked me how I was doing. I said I was doing wonderful! He said: Are you sure? I said: Yes, I am. He repeated the question again, as if I hadn't even answered.

I rolled away saying: I don't need your negativity, and then immediately turned my attention to a cute guy who had just turned 21 that night. By the time the set was over, he was grinning from ear to ear, and someone else came up to say thank you for a fun night, and I said thank you back.

I had managed to let the little slip with negativity roll right off. But that was not to be the end of it. I breathed a sigh of relief, though, not knowing, and went to count out what I owed to the bar and the DJ. I made plans to help another girl cover her schedule for vacation, promised another girl that I would go out with her and other friends for her birthday, exchanged phone numbers with another girl who wants to go in together to get a gift for our friend whose house burned, and then I went to climb in the tanning bed.

That was fine too. I took my bag of Cheezits with me, and munched on those while I stood singing a medley of Bjork and Tori Amos songs. The next thing I know, someone who rarely talks to me opened the door to grin at me, and give me good-natured shit about my singing. She said I was such a pothead, eating my Cheezits and singing along... in the dark. Cause the tanning bed light had gone out a few minutes earlier... I knew it had, but I just kept singing cause I was happy. She gave me a hug, and we laughed.

All of that was fine and fun. Then I noticed that my phone had rung while I was tanning. I knew who it was... and oddly enough, I didn't want to answer it. I'm tired of the little games. I'm tired of him riding the fence. I'm tired of the way he judges me. I don't need it. I need to move forward, not backward.

You'd think he was calling because I sent him a note last weekend. Or, because he'd tried to reach me yesterday, since when we talked Monday he had had to go to get some work done. I'm sure he knew I was hurt that he hadn't invited me to his party, and that I was curious as to why...

But, he'd been avoiding the issue. Why would this morning be any different?

Except... that I had been having so much fun, and was so full of love and smiles. I had told him that I no longer want to drink, at all. Not even with dinner. And I was having as much or more fun as all of the drunk people...

Early in the night, I still had a bit of a chip on my shoulder about how inconsiderate he had been... but that was quickly gone in a matter of hours. I was having too much fun to dwell on it anymore... Although, I am sure, after talking with me, he sensed my irritation.

But, still, when I talked to him and told him how happy I was, he was bent on asking this question that could likely have been designed to get under my skin. Which means, that:

A) I was guilty of being rather passive-aggressive with him... but I got it out of my system and moved on...and got really, really happy...

and...

B) he was jealous. Of my happiness. But you know what? He could just share it, instead of pushing me away. He doesn't have to be my boyfriend, but whatever he is, if there is going to be any kind of relationship... he needs to be my friend.

And I don't want the kind of friends that either exclude you from certain activities because of their control issues, or friends who try to rain on your parade.

Kick me for being hurt that I got left out. But don't rain on my parade out of jealousy. Don't call me at the end of the night, when I have a huge, huge, huge smile on my face to ask me about something really, really negative... when you know it will rain on my parade. I am speaking to him, of course.

But then again, I am no saint myself, because, annoyed as I was, I chose to take the occasion of being burdened with yet another instance of his inability to trust me, to call him out on my being shunned from the party.

And god, you know what, I can't believe I am even dwelling on this... I know why I am... I know at this stage of the game that it is par for the course... but I wish that I wasn't. I wish I could just shake my head at his behaviour and at mine.... and say to myself: "Well, just be his friend, and love him for what he is... not what he isn't."

I've been thinking while I have been writing this, that he is the one that needs to learn a lesson... and that may be true... but, it isn't my job to make him learn it. It's my job to learn my own lesson. Which is: Stop trying to change him. I can't. He's the only one who can. If he doesn't want to come along on the same happy path I am on, I can't make him do so. And I don't, conversely, want to go back to the way things were... anymore than he does.

I just 'see' a light at the end of the tunnel, and I don't think he does. But that's not my problem... is it?

If it sounds like I am trying to convince myself to believe the truth of the whole matter, that's because I am. The truth is a bit hard to swallow sometimes. I need something to make it go down a little smoother. :)

P.S. Lude and crude jokes are even welcome. That's why I left the door open at the end of that paragraph. I want to laugh about this instead of cry... *big cheezy grin*

I think I am coming to the conclusion slowly, that I don't need to be thinking about doing things like toying with someone's aversion to pork, or making fun of Mr. Potato Head, and that in doing so... I am no different than my friend in his efforts to rain on my parade. It is so hard to let go of old patterns of being, and when you literally try to let go of them overnight you meet with more resistance to the change than your own. People are used to you the way you are, and they don't realize it, but they don't want you to change, cause it would mess up the seating arrangements.

But, I've got to change. I don't want anymore of this bitterness, anymore of this fear, anymore of those trips down sad hallways.

Tonight, while leaving my second stage, I heard two guys, one from North Carolina, and one from Chicago who were friends saying about me: "That girl is fun, she is energetic, she's focused, she's going places." They thought I was in my early twenties with my whole life ahead of me... and I thought... you know, if I wanna be there, I can be. I don't have to be sitting in this rut with other people hitting middle age, and being bitter about it. I don't have to dwell on the stupid crap people do... I don't have to react. I can just smile. And I can breathe in their negativity, and breathe out positivity. I can transform what they give to me, even though I can't fix the source.

That might be part of my problem. Earlier tonight, I actually thought that something channeling through me was changing the assholes in the club. It wasn't. I was just transforming what they sent to me, and reacting with love. THEY chose to change. I chose to change. And there were only two people I came into contact with at the end of the night who didn't want to change... and I can't help them. But I can love them.

Thank you to anyone who read this drivel. It'd be nice to know if someone else has been down this path, and lived to tell about it. I want to hope. And I want to be happy.

This post was edited by rosyxxx on May 19, 2005.

Yes. Yes. I know. But I am in a rather cantankerous mood. I haven't had my morning joint yet, and my macaroni and cheese was just not the best. I prefer the Moosewood brand with Cheddar, Jack and parmesan cheeses, and just a hint of mustard... for that tangy little twist; but, today, I had to eat substandard mac and cheese. Oh well, it's food.

I don't think I ate enough before I went into to work, either. And then I refused to drink at all. Apparently, I have a rep for being a hardcore drinker, except that I NEVER drink more than two drinks at work. It's just that I drink cognac. Either the new vanilla cognac: Navan, or Grand Marnier. I sip it. I don't shoot it. What a sacreligious thing to do... never! But people seem to think I am this amazing drinker, because I ever so slowly nurse a heated brandy snifter of cognac for two hours. They think I am hardcore because the drink is strong and neat. I just like to prolong the orange taste.

But last night, I did not drink. And I was quiet. I didn't have the usual repertoire of goofy jokes. People thought that something was wrong. I said that, no, I was fine, that I am just nicer on Grand Marnier and less likely to mention just how irritating people can be...

First up, there is this girl who stole my money off stage, then offered to split it, then changed her mind, and then pretended that she didn't, and then called me a bitch twelve times. I don't like her very much, needless to say. I am finding it rather hard to have compassion for people such as her... I know that this a perfect opportunity to advance my meditation practice... but somehow I just don't feel like it right now.

Ditto, the girl who keeps trying to get my attention to the point that she is driving me nuts. If I don't talk to her, she starts slowing her speech down so much, that even I, with my residual Tennessee accent... feel like I am waiting for a train that seems to go on and on... Learning to be patient, I think, would be the lesson here.

Goddess, she just never stops. I come in, and she starts being chatty Kathy about the most boring things while I am trying to get my eyeliner straight, and curl my hair. If I listen to her, then my makeup looks like shit. If I don't listen to her, she gets closer and closer, and stares at me. I hate that. Then she'll follow me and try to talk to me, or ask to borrow some ones to tip the bartenders, or to pay for what she ordered from the kitchen... and then she never pays me back. It would be better if she just said: "Can I HAVE some money?"

Then she tells me that she doesn't know what happened, but the girl who stole my money never did any such thing and is crying now. So, I'm thinking, well, she wasn't crying when she took my money, she wasn't crying when she acted all ghetto with me and called me a bitch the first time before she suggested we 'split' the money, she wasn't crying when she changed her mind and decided to keep the money, she wasn't crying when the manager-on-duty had to listen to her contrived story, nor when she stood in the back and called me a bitch another eleven times, and smiled at me as if she had me.

So, now she is crying, and I am supposed to feel sorry for her?

I hate this crap. I have half a mind to do what this one girl does, and come in there with my hair and makeup done, and never set foot in the dressing room again. Just keep all of my friendships outside of that club, with people who don't want to drink and party. God knows I'll age a lot slower.

Beyond that, I just have that whole Greta Garbo attitude today:

I want to be alone.

Tomorrow, I guess I shall feel differently.

Yesterday I felt fine. I went to visit my friend whose house burned, and bought him an assload of Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Krullers, originals, blueberry, tropical something, and raspberry-filled. We sat around watching adult swim, and then the very, very end of the movie: House of Sand and Fog. Maybe... it was the movie. All those attempted suicides kinda got me down, before I went home to go to bed and get up for work.

And then there were just a bunch of obnoxious people at work last night, and I couldn't ignore them by rinsing my mouth out with orange cognac to get rid of the bad taste, because I don't want my head clouded by alcohol for right now while I meditate, and try to find that place of serenity that I almost saw for more than a split second.

My green jade Kuan Yin calls to me... and now that I have digested my mac and cheese, I will bid you all adieu, and go hang out alone with my statue.

So. I've been on two dates in the last week.

One guy, when I met him... walked up to me and said that my eyes could heal a person's soul, just by looking at them. I was tempted to say: "Now, that's I line I've never heard before...", but he genuinely meant it. So, I smiled and blushed. We talked for hours...

Two days later, we had breakfast at a greasy spoon, and chatted forever. We enjoyed each other's company immensely. We talked about how much we love to listen to music, what kinds of music we liked... we talked about how people constantly get misunderstood and mistaken for something they are not... we talked about movies we'd seen, about hot sauces we liked, about his nephew, about my family, about how nice it was to meet each other in a bar where everyone was so unreal...how nice it was that we had not met at my work, even when he knows three of my coworkers and has occasionally been in there.

We talked about food. We talked about life. We talked about Hindu philosophy... okay... I talked about that, he listened. He told me how happy he was to have such a close-knit family.

He's a carpenter who was out of work, but just got hired with a new contractor. He is sweet, he's cute... he has these sexy dreadlocks, and a beautiful smile. His heart is golden. But he made me nervous when he said that he bet on the horseraces and won $5,000 which bought him a new truck. I was worried...

Yes, it's a good thing that happened to him, but I am not young and naive anymore, and I wonder... is he gambling with his life like I am figuratively? Could we actually have something together?

The other guy, told me that I was beautiful when I met him. He asked where my accent was from, where I went to school, if I had ever traveled, what my degree was in... how old I was, right off the bat...the whole nine yards.

For some stupid reason, I went on a date with him too... He wanted to meet at some upscale restaurant right around the corner from me. We met there, but he sat at the back bar, the ice bar, glued to the game, with his back to the door, so that he couldn't see me if I walked in... already cocky and cocksure.

I didn't see him because I didn't recognize his back to me... so I walked around the bar twice, and three or four men snapped their heads and two said: "That is a really beautiful dress you have on." I smiled wide and politely said thank you for the compliment.

Finally I found him at the back bar. He seemed mildly annoyed at me because I was fifteen minutes late, even though I had called to tell him I would be, and that I was sorry I would be...

He grudgingly and very slowly stood to greet me, glancing back at the game once. At the time, I didn't notice that he never once complimented me on my dress or hair, or even said: "You look very nice tonight." You see, I don't expect it. I just enjoy it when it happens... but maybe I should expect it, because those kinds of social inanities are the politeness that keeps relationships together when the honeymoon is over, and everything else has gone wrong. They are the anchor for a ship slipping out of the harbor, and maybe I need those things more than I realize.

Maybe, all these years, I should have been paying more attention to what people said.

So, that night, I listened and I watched. I watched as he got distracted by every woman that walked by... I listened as he asked me more and more questions designed to find out about how much I knew of wine culture and how much I had traveled, whether I knew how to ski... if I was, basically, his 'kind'.

Obviously, I didn't know enough. I didn't pass the test. I'm a hippie, not a yuppie. Though I have tried. I don't want to anymore...

Oddly enough, maybe just to get some ass, he continued with his line of questioning, trying to make me suggest that we go to the places he had mentioned earlier. Trying to make me beg him to take me somewhere. I refused. I waited for him to offer. I am old-fashioned. I am a woman, not a girl.

Then, all of a sudden, he looked at me and asked me about the subtle, and barely visible scar on my right eyebrow... he asked where it was from... then he looked at my hands. I felt like a racehorse being sized up for purchase. I felt like I was at work.

I waited a few moments, said something pointless, and then excused myself to go to the ladies' room. I sashayed past tables, and saw a few heads turn. The lady in the bathroom talking on the phone asked me what was wrong. She smoothed the static from my hair, told me to go back out and sit down next to him with a huge smile on my face, and run my fingers through my long hair while I told him that I had to leave. She said: "When you get up to leave walk slowly, don't let him rush you out, and make your exit proudly."

He wanted to leave too. Pretty and nice wasn't good enough for him. I had to be from his set. And I am not.

I ran into friends then, and went to say hello. Not really close friends, for I do keep to myself alot, but friends nonetheless. I chatted for a moment, and then excused myself to stand beside my date while he exchanged pleasantries with the waitress.

As we said goodbye, he promptly turned and ran into the wall. Sad, but true. I did manage to be polite enough not to laugh, but I enjoyed watching him crack his hip on the wall, nonetheless.

And then, as if for good measure, and to drive the point home, that I have personality traits that aren't nice... when I turned away with a smug smile on my face, I ran into an old lady. I apologized, and whispered that I was just in a hurry to get away.

To get away from this man who did not appreciate me. All night, he couldn't be bothered to pull out a chair, open a door, give a compliment. The only thing I got from him was criticism.

So here are two potential hypothetical scenarios:

One guy, poor as a churchmouse almost, and struggling to make ends meet like I am now, since the bottom has dropped out of our business; but who is good and kind and sweet. He doesn't always take care of his health the way he should, but then I never used to either... maybe, we'd be good for each other, because we've already each cried on each other's shoulders over the phone on two seperate occasions. Good man. But poor.

Another guy, rich beyond belief, and living the jet-set life I tried to aspire to so much for a while, but who is more of a snob than even I. Who has not a chivalrous bone in his body, who, wonder of wonders, comes from a culture where women are either playthings or workhorses... and imagine this: he actually fits the stereotype, unlike quite a few men from his culture that I've met. Selfish man. But rich.

And guess who I want to talk to again? The good man. Even if he might have a gambling problem. His heart is good, he's funny... he makes me laugh. He loves being alive. If I were to marry someone like him, we'd probably be poor... but my feet would be rubbed every night. My head held while I vomited with the flu, and he'd probably spoon with me and tell me how much he loved me, even when I'd been a bitch.

I don't think I need to waste any more time explaining what would happen if I were somehow able to win the rich, selfish man's heart. It' wouldn't last... and I'd be a toy tossed on the trash heap in probably less than a week.

I don't want to be somebody's toy... I want to be somebody's goddess. Actually, I want to be someone else's goddess in particular. Someone whom no one else has ever been able to hold a candle to... someone who has ruined me for everyone else. Someone who still loves me very much, but is deathly afraid of my Bipolar illness. I want him to trust me. And I want him to be up to the task of me treating him like a god as well. I want someone who wants to be loved, not someone who wants to be hated.

I found that guy, but he is so afraid of my craziness, so unsure that THC is the answer... and so, I am still looking... for Mr. Right Now. I'm looking to settle. I'm not sure if the first guy is him... but I know that the second guy was not.

I want to end by saying that one of my friends from work was dating a rich boy, whose parents supported him, and yet she let him make her work to pay his bills. He got off on it. Then she met this cute, poor boy, who is a stripper too, and they fell in love. Their wedding brought tears to everyone's eyes. Both families embraced each other as if it was always meant to be. They struggle daily to make ends meet, but each one of them gets up each day wondering what they can do that day for the person they love... just to make them smile. Like the story of the husband who sold his watch to buy a barrette for his wife's long beautiful hair, while his wife sold her hair to buy him a watchchain for his watch. Except, that story was bittersweet, and theirs is just sweet. Would that we all could have that too.

Will wishing make it so? :)

This post was edited by rosyxxx on May 13, 2005.

Sweet dreams... of sugarplums and spices... kittens...whiskers.... How do you solve a problem like "Maria" or like me to be more exact. And what would I do if I wanted to be an online stalker? Would I log on as my poet friend, and use the evil penguin avatar? Would I post a simple poem from his repertoire? (which by the way, wasn't me, it was him wanting to log on in moral support of me... just by being there, and he needed an address, and I could provide that because my AOL account gives me the option to have other account names) Or, would I log on as several other people, and talk about myself, as if I weren't myself, and try to draw myself out of hiding?

Would I talk about myself in the words of frmguess or Hardballkid, or any of the other bazillion profiles that none of you are paying attention to? NO. Would I talk about how my life is shit, I have no money, I am a stripper, and I am struggling to be a writer, because it is what I LOVE, and it may not ever make me much money, but stripping allows me to do it? Would I make jabs at myself about how, I would NEVER be a stripper, even it WAS that bad... as hells_angel has done? Would I have logged on as Trouble247, and others to support the person trying to move up in the ratings so they could READ every single one of my restricted access journal entry posts?

Except that isn't what I have done... I have been me, from the start. I have a poet friend, who during all of this mess that I have been enduring lately, asked if he could get online here and write as well. I didn't want to get paranoid about all of this mess, anymore than I already was... so I said yes. He now has an account under my AOL account.

Besides his account, which is his, and not mine, I have two new accounts under AOL, besides my parent account: moonflowerdog@aol.com... they are as follows: stupidtulip@aol.com, and oublietteofroses@aol.com. They were created as an attempt on my part to have a secure method of communicating with you people here on the NAO, as well as any other friends who might want to help me with my current online and offline stalker situation.

But now, all of them:
pinksquirrelpoop@yahoo.com
moonflowerdog@aol.com
stupidtulip@aol.com
oublietteofroses@aol.com

...are totally worthless as secure ways of communication.

Allow me to explain. It has to do with my stalker, who by the way is not, and never was my lover. If someone is on here posing as a former loved one of mine... he is an imposter. He is the same person who logged on as me: heathermariebeebe, and so many, many other people on here... so many I don't know who they are... and if you were me, you'd probably get a little paranoid too. And some of his addresses have the same ISP and IP addresses, and some don't. Kids, I am learning fast. It isn't that hard to create an identity from a remote location and pretend that you are from, oh say, anywhere?

This kind of stuff doesn't just happen in the movies, it is happening to me. It IS happening. People. Wake up. Open_your_eyes... like the URL in an erroneous threatening e-mail sent to my pinksquirrelpoop@yahoo.com address said.

You want to ask me in private how this online/offline stalking thing got started? Sure, I'll tell you... I have nothing to hide. But I can't use names here, I already made that mistake once out of carelessness... and not out of trying to destroy anyone.

But someone in particular seems to be all about destroying me.

Could it be that you all believe any rumors potentially started that I was in love with this person, and want him back?

He isn't my lover, and hasn't been since 1999, when I left... and it was very hard to get away. In fact, I suspect that these issues I have had with Manic-Depression only got compounded intensely by his antics. As I said, I am Bipolar/Manic-Depressive, and a stripper, whose life is going nowhere currently, but hopefully not forever, who has absolutely no intention of killing herself whatsoever, no matter how much people try to plant that idea in her head; and who is being stalked. Do you hear me NAO? I AM BEING STALKED. I apparently have been being passively stalked since 1999. And I didn't know that I was... my stalker has been extracting information about me from people here in St. Louis, Missouri that I thought were my friends.

And now, he has found me here online. And if I explain how that happened in writing, I could be playing right into his hands. How can none of you see this? Were you just so caught up in the intrigue, if you even knew about it, that you missed this fact?

I CAN'T come right out and say exactly what I mean, because then I would be actively slandering someone, and since I have absolutely no real proof that he is doing this to me... I am helpless. Helpless like a butterfly struggling out of it's new cocoon.

Do you know, people of NAO, that if you touch a butterfly's wings as it is emerging from the cocoon, it will not be able to fly? Is that why you all remain silent, and passively complicit in my stalkers attempts to ruin me? Do you actually think you are helping me by not helping? I need everyone's help here very much. I thought I had good friends here. I thought I had friends here that I could trust. I thought I had friends here who would help me... but they seem to have all disappeared.

I don't care if you rate me, I don't care if you rate me into oblivion. But help me, help me, help me... Oh God, please help me... fight this stalker from destroying my attempts to have my written voice heard here on the NAO. You want to help a 'stripper' succeed. Then help. I told him I was sorry for what I had done out of carelessness, and now my stalker has no mercy, no remorse, no kindness, no pity. And neither do his cohorts.

You see 'poetryrosy' laid bare, open, her faults spread bare for all to see. Ask me anything I shall tell you. You want to know how I got arrested for shoplifting in 2000, a year after leaving this man... when I had never shoplifted before? You want to know how I tried to commit suicide by driving over a fucking cliff when I was sixteen? How my intuition told me that my mother would hang herself when the cancer came back, and I hid in fear. And this demon who is stalking me, told me that my mother was in Hell for committing suicide, and that I should follow her because I was weak, I was victim.

If you hate me, and have hated watching my writing rise up the ranks of the NAO, then please snap out of it, and realize that I am helpless and powerless against this person. I cannot defend myself the way that I have in the past.

This smear campaign of his, I played right into it, by warning people of who he might be online. I am guilty, if anything, of being careless, and cocky at times. But I am a good person at heart, and I don't deserve to be treated this way. How can any of you stand by and watch this happening from the sidelines? Can you live with yourselves when I have finally lost my voice on the NAO? Do you not see how much this place means to me? That right now, it is one of the only good things that I have in my life? That it was supposed to be a stepping stone for me on the path to greater things? And now my hopes seem all dashed... and yes, I can move on to publishing my writing elsewhere... but why have you abandoned me? Why do you all seem to believe the lies and think that I am lying?

Are you not my friends? Will you not help me? My stalker wants me to either leave this place, or he wants me to give up, quit, and take my own life. I won't kill myself over this. I won't quit trying to succeed at life, but I'd like to not have to leave the NAO, and he wants me to either do that actively, or, if I won't leave, he will try to destroy my reputation to the point, that I will be asked to leave, because it would be the easy thing to do to get him to leave.

But this site wasn't set up to let people be bullied out of writing like that, was it? So help me. Please. I am begging all of you. Help me by making your voices heard. Help me actively, not passively.

Yes, I could move on to writing in other ways... but do you want me to go, knowing that I was forced out by someone trying to destroy me?

As I said, I don't love my stalker. But I do love someone else very much. My Stalker is one person. My Lover is another. They are two seperate people. The person I do love, cares deeply for me, but is wierded out by my mood swings. He is also in love with someone else, who has left him and moved away. He can't make up his mind. I am not fighting over him. I am waiting for him to make up his mind. He, my lover, and I don't have problems relating to each other at all, these days.

But,I have a lot of problems relating to my stalker. I don't appreciate having him do what he is doing. And I can't really call him on any of this, because then I would be slandering and defaming again, wouldn't I? When I have no real proof. But you all can providethat proof.

So, I ask you all, how do I not talk cryptically? How?

And I thought I was getting help from certain someones on here, but I guess not. I could just be jumping the gun on that, I don't know. But how would I know, I have neither had nor received communication on this subject from anyone online here who was helping me.

And now, I have gone to check up on the erroneous purchase of the domain name: heathermariebeebe.com, and it isn't just "googling" up like it did last month when it was purchased by someone other than me... it is coming up on my screen as a big, black screen with absolutely nothing on it, that says, as its title: Cleansing. I'd put a link up to it, but, hey, when I went downstairs and had someone else pull up the same internet address, they got nothing. Nothing.

So I had them come up here to my apartment, and look at it for themselves, and then I had my father drop what he was in the middle of (namely, going to visit people in the hospital), and come up here and look at it. He and the other witness saw the same thing I did. And null, if you were actually on here, helping me fix my computer, you'd have seen it too. But you aren't, and there is no one helping me, and this person, who is really on my last nerve who is doing this to me, is getting exactly what he wants...

You don't want to get involved? Fine. Don't help me. Eventually the police will... somebody will listen. And I will give up smoking pot, and tell them everything they want to know about me to get that to happen. Everything.

Hell, my stalker already has my social security number and all my personal information. This comes under the subject of 'identity theft', and should be prosecuted as such. But the odds are, that none of you will believe me. You won't believe that my computer has been hacked in the craftiest way possible, nor that there could be several versions of my stalker here on the NAO, and elsewhere... and that they aren't me.

You all probably won't believe that I tried very hard to ignore this all, but I couldn't ignore my intuition that he meant to plant false ideas in people's minds, and I scrambled to warn people about him to protect myself.

You probably won't believe that I DID NOT purchase my own domain name... that someone purchased it without my permission, called my private cell phone without permission, and promised various things in return for my apology, that likely never happened... if all of this mess is any indication.

You probably won't believe that my 'domain name': heathermariebeebe.com is registered to a user at:

Domains by Proxy
1511 N. Hayden Rd.
Suite 160
PMB353
Scottsdale, Arizona
85260, USA

under www.godaddy.com, and that the company under which it was registered was designed to protect people like me from the very things that are happening to me.

You probably won't believe that this domainname was purchased in early February by someone other than me, and that it now exists as a website only on my computer. It shows up under all of my AOL accounts. It shows up as an empty black screen, like an empty abyss... with the title from the "googlesearch" as: Cleansing.

I ask you all, people of the NAO, what am I being cleansed of? My soul? Certainly not cleansed of anything that is one human's right to cleanse me of...Will you all just stand back and watch?

Will you pretend that even though my father and another friend, who would be happy to vouch for me, have seen this thing, and witnessed what has been happening, including the unwanted phone calls from my stalker... will you pretend that because you cannot see it on your computers that it does not exist? Will you pretend that I have logged on as a bunch of people and created this whole thing myself, when I have most certainly not? Will you pretend that I am so sick that I don't know what end is up?

I have alot of things wrong with me, but one of them isn't MPD. I know who I am. And I am not stalking myself. That is ludicrous.

You all want all my personal information, you want photographs of me? You want verification from a psychiatrist? Well, I can't post photographs because I don't have any way to do that. And as I said, ginsterbusch, I had planned on sending them, but I really, really, really have lost your address for the second time. I have spent 30 min. going through the jumble of papers on my desk, and it isn't there. But I'd send the pictures if I had it again. I would.

I have nothing to hide, not even the videos that were taken of me being sodomized back in 1997-98. Nor the fact that I am stripper. That I am 37. That I have Manic-Depression. That my family helps to take care of me, and that I cannot make it on my own. That I am a fuck-up, and yet a good writer... and all I wanted to do here on the NAO was to have my voice heard. To have people appreciate my writing. And I made the mistake of ranting about the misery I endured from 1996-1999 at the hands of one person, while also talking about my love for another person. And those two seperate people are different people. They are seperate people. I am not in love with my stalker. Are you kidding? What other way to say: They are not the same... is there?

Believe what you want, but do me a favor, remember me as I was... not as this person has painted me out to be. I am sorry for inadvertently hurting him. I said that I was sorry. But he reads my poems, and does not see that I speak for all people like us who have been hurt. I had finally found a place in my heart to forgive him, and then when I realized that I had hurt him, I had to work to understand what I had done wrong. Now, I do understand, but he won't leave me alone. It's like some sick game of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. He, however, is the real one who has crossed the line.

This is harassment from him. It is stalking. It is, for that matter, what is called interstate stalking because it extends across the internet landscape. But the police and the FBI say they can do nothing, because there have been no active death threats made. None.

That wouldn't be his style. His style would be to try drive me crazy like this, hoping I would commit suicide and save him the trouble. His style would be to try to get me to communicate directly with him again, and if not... then to try his damndest to silence my voice here.

I won't e-mail him, I won't visit his site, I won't come back into the fold... and so he comes here, looking for me, tormenting me for something I did that was nothing but out of pain and carelessness. But his harassment of me is cold, calculated, ruthless, unending.

Will you all stay silent because you don't want to be involved?

Why do you guys think I haven't been my usual self, lambasting this person for being such a sicko? Because he is one... that's why. He isn't like any other nemesis, who can eventually become your friend. I don't want to EVER, EVER, EVER know him again... I am so sorry that he ever found me here.

So, hey, none of my addresses are secure... I've spent all of this time trying to find a way to communicate securely with you all... and I have none. My computer is hacked. Things come up on it, that don't exist on anyone else's computer to see, and yet, two witnesses have seen it here on my computer screen with their own eyes.

Any of you want to call me on my unsecure phone line, since you have that number, and ask to speak with my father, and the other witness to this mess... I'm sure they'd be happy to speak with you and confirm this is happening to me, and it isn't my imagination, and it isn't a joke.

My stalker IS much, much, much, much smarter than me...and he was offended deeply that I said on the phone that I was smarter than him, when he called me in February. He is MUCH smarter than me, and he is succeeding at this point, in destroying my reputation here... and the fact that I have warned people about him, seems to be what he intended me to do all of the time, because it would destroy my reputation by wearing people down with my misery, and my fear.

Now I have gone from being afraid, to being angry, to being resigned. You all will be happier here without me.. if I leave, so will he... and he'll make sure that he times it right, so that it looks for all the world as if he and I were the same person, and that this was all some sick game of mine.

But it wasn't. I was just hurting, and I carelessly posted a post with his FULL name in it, more like I was saying the name out loud that I had been afraid to even whisper for so many years.

Someone who is dealing with mental illness is the perfect target for a predator. I am that target. And he is winning, and you all, by your complicity are helping.

And to my stalker: I hate people who tell other people how to live their lives... unless they are telling them not to hurt other people... but when you've made your point you should stop being a bully.

You know the way hyenas bite a lion in the butt? You know how I said I'd rather be bitten by the hyenas moving in for the kill the lion made? Well my stalker has made a kill of me. And you all have moved in, unwittingly, I am sorry to say... and finished the job.

You know, I heard a line in the movie "Be Cool" the other day...one of the thugs says to the receptionist: "you can't get everywhere in life with a cute ass...you better have a personality by the time you are thirty."

Well, I am over thirty, and I still have a cute ass, and it pays my bills, not by prostitution, but by shaking it and my titties in a strip club for cash. But then most of you here know that already. So I guess, I also fit some of the stereotypes of a stripper... and yet, I do have a personality. And, unbenounced to certain people, it is helping me do what I want to do, and to eventually get out of the stripping industry.

And yes, I live in a country that believes in an "individual" personality... not a group one. So, if as some people feel, I should be part of the family, then realize that one cannot have a personality, and be part of the Borgship.

And I don't want to be a Borg. I want to be me, and this person stalking me is trying to stifle that. He wants me to leave, and perhaps that is best. Let him win. I don't have the money to fight this, and no one to reformat my computer, no police who will believe my story, no FBI agents who will do more than listen, because they CAN'T do anymore than that... THERE IS NO EVIDENCE THAT I HAVE. I can prove nothing, thus far...

And as far as protecting myself, well I have lived in a virtual fortress with the garage entry on camera for years, and not moved, because it is the safest place for me to be. That and at my work, because there is so much security there. But there is none here, and someone like him can come on here, and scare me, knowing I will wear everyone's ears blank with asking for help. And they will turn their backs, they will get disgusted. And he will win. And I think he has...so for what it is worth, my dear stalker: YOU HAVE WON. Enjoy the spoils.

My life is full of caterpillars puffing smoke
they say: "We don't smoke hookahs...
but you,
you...
you're crazy...
Why do you breathe that shit?
You know it will kill you..."

for all the arrogant medical professionals in the world who smoke cigarettes

Wish I were a bird
cigarette butts on the street
left eye looks away...

Add your own here ->

Sometimes poetry can help heal all the pain writhing within our souls...

but then sometimes you just have to say:

go see this website: http://www.homestarrunner.com

Aynjell hipped me to it

This post was edited by rosyxxx on Sep 17, 2004.