The Journal of Dreams 02/08/2010

Tired but happy I have a job and able to pay the bills.  The last 6 months of 2009 was bad for nursing work believe it or not which put me behind.  It is a wake up call for me to realize that even the people who know how to save a life are not really guaranteed work.  Too many times in the past year I have been close to homeless.  I figure I am earning the last part of this struggle through life in a hard way.  There are two reasons for it.  My education was most certainly through the School of Hard Knocks.  I have always been that way for me; resistant and rebellious.

The second reason was brought to light by my old father when he told me one time:  “Never forget your raisens,”  Which translated means “never forget where you came from no matter where you go in life or what you do.”  I have forgotten that before but not for a long time and often I have said truthfully that I lived better, had more control of my life and finances, and felt happier working at McDonald’s.  I knew when I worked, what would happen, what I would do, when I got off and when I got paid.  Often times I thought about going back to a job where I had time for the people. 

It seems hard to believe for the average bear but when you make more money, your life changes and you need more money and when you get paid daily, you really get screwed up because there is always some money in your pocket unless there is no work.  So the money you spend the day before frivolously, just might be the money you need to pay the light bill.  And for the back to the people part of it, being a nurse is like herding cattle.  You do not feed the sick and weary souls or your own soul, you feed the machine.

So why don’t I take a full-time job after 17 years?  Well it all started 17 years ago when I went on a quest to find a home, a job where I would feel happy and make friends…a life.  Seventeen years later and so many cities I lost count (maybe 200 or more), I still haven’t found a home.  I work hard, I do what is right, I am a team player and will break my back to do what need to be done but I cannot tolerate the bullshit of it all, blatant disrespect or one thriving off the others, like the machine.

When I went to nursing school, just as it is now, you are taught that it is a professional and respectful career.  If only one nurse or instructor had told me the truth of the matter, I may have been a doctor (although it is not much better than nursing), but most likely a lawyer.  My life would have been totally different.  Two years after I became a nurse I looked into medical school.  I had a plan to work in the mountains of West Virginia and provide healthcare to the poor by house calls and be paid by whatever they could afford. 

Before I became a nurse, I was shy, smiled all the time and my face turned red when I talked to people.  Now my face turns red in anger, I never smile, everything tears me up that deals with abuse of the system, the country, the people of the world.  It is my fault but I was a first generation college student, excited to find out I wasn’t as “stupid” as I thought I was and realized I had a chance.  It was one of the times I jumped from the frying pan into the fire without making an informed decision or evaluating my options.  It was all on me to figure it out.

Maybe the anger comes with growing up, but somehow I don’t believe that.  Maybe it is post traumatic stress disorder…I have seen a lot of real life things that belonged on Hellraiser or some other horror flick.  I work 13-15 hours (including to/from work), take an hour or so to go to sleep and chronically am deprived of sleep.  I know I don’t eat right, sometimes not at all in a 12.5 hour shift, just drinking Mountain Dew (a lot of nurses drink Mountain Dew, it is funny how they made “Code Red”…similar name to Code Blue)…Well, seven days until the new job starts.

The Journal of Dreams 02/07/2010

I know I had not planned to put pictures here and there are not pictures in the hand written journal but this is a ruby, a rough ruby.

This is my pig I received today.  It appealed to me for the section of the painting within a painting entitled:  Truth-The Hemorrhage of Pigs!  He will sit near me to remind me of what should never be forgotten.

The Journal of Dreams 01/13/2010

I started finishing up the black horse rider, Martin Luther King Jr., today.  Initially The Revelation Painting was a religious painting but in September 2009 I discovered information on the internet which would change all that.  Upon searching for investment gemstones and gemstone for the painting, I stumbled across information about The New World Order.  What I found devastated me!  Digging deeper into the plan for world dominance, I saw information about concentration camps being built here in the U.S., train cars with human shackles, coffin liners which hold entire families and I felt panic, and sick to my stomach.

I didn’t work for a week, up day and night reading this stuff.  I dug deeper and deeper into truth or lies…I had to know if it was real or not.  Somewhere along the line, I came upon John F. Kennedy’s assassination and the U.S. Treasury.  It seemed JFK had taken the American people’s money away from the U.S. Treasury and created Silver Certificates.  The money was backed by our silver, not the private bankers money of the U.S.Treasury (which is by the way NOT a government agency).  Kennedy signed executive order 11110 and five months later was killed and the money control was given back to the bankers!

It made sense to me.  Money is power all over the world.  I watched video after video of Kennedy’s assassination and how he was shot in the neck, a definite “death shot” and the head.  As a nurse, I knew that a shot to the head or neck would most likely end in death.  On one of the sites I was looking at, it discussed leaders who had been assassinated and Martin Luther King Jr., was there.  I started to read about his assassination and how he was also shot in the neck, and I thought WOW, what a similar coincidence!  Several days and nights passed while I read and researched, feeling all along that the more I dug, the more I uncovered.

After about a week of constant internet, taking naps, barely eating and only getting up to pee, I realized that Martin Luther King represented the black horse in carrying the scales of balance; the balance of equality and justice and that he had paid the last sacrifice for it…his life.  It was a time closer to me than today.  When I was in school, we were the students who were sent into the Africa-American neighborhoods to go to school, housed in trailers and separate buildings.  Our once “white” classes had become black and white.  Anger filled the air from both sides and even within the classes groups segregated.

Teachers spoke arrogantly and drilled equality into our heads while all the time fear permeated in their eyes waiting for a riot or rebellion but it never came.  After time, we blended into one but many straight A students began to fail, some dropped out and it was a high price to pay for the good of the world.  Lives were changed forever and destinies were altered.  It is funny when I look at America today and the subtle separations in the work place and even video stores where “black” music and movies are separated from others, where especially when Obama was elected how it black this and white that was and still is the core of subjects.

Race should never be brought into subjects which include the nation as one, as a whole.  I do not think about those times in a negative way, although I was one of the straight A students who dropped out of school in 12th grade.  As an adult, I look back on that time and feel proud that I had an opportunity to be a part of a changing history, even if a high price was paid for it.  Those students were never mentioned and the effects it had on us as productive members of society were never mentioned either.  We were the ghost of change that no one saw, that no one remembered, yet we never forget.  Subtle segregation destroys our sacrifice and the many years it took to become regrouped into life and pick up where we were left behind.

I wondered about the end of the world, how this New World Order “take over” played a role in the painting.  I saw so many similarities and began to see the Four Horsemen as segments of time, that their colors represented races of people, then from my medical training, I saw that the four primary races were the same colors as the Four Horsemen and that time was passing in the same way as they were ordered:  White (Caucasoid), Red (Australoid), Black (Negroid) and Pale (Mongoloid).  As you can imagine, I thought I was going insane!  Had I uncovered the ultimate mystery?  Was this the meaning of the Four Horsemen?  There is another mystery I uncovered about the world and I realized destiny.

From childhood, this dream and nearly everything I’ve experienced has tied into the painting.  My rebellion, disappreciation for life and learning valuable lessons, to have the humble and sacred opportunity to look into someone’s eyes when they are dying and seeing beyond the physical or material and into the core of a soul.  The two most things that have affected me as a nurse were with old, African-American women.  I worked in a cath lab where they run a scope through the groin and into the heart to see of you have any blockages.  There was an old, woman who had chest pain and needed the scope.  She was afraid, like intuition.  She didn’t want to have the procedure done.  I respect that in people because often times something happens.

I had spent extra time with her trying to ease her fear.  The doctors called for her and I walked over to her bed.  I said:  “The doctors are ready, everything will be alright.”  Her pupils were dialated in flight or fight, the ultimate sign of fear…she didn’t say a word.  I leaned over to kiss her cheek and she grabbed a little gold cross I wore on my neck and held me there, close to her.  She was staring at the cross, still not saying a word.  A tear rolled from the corner of her eye, she looked into my eyes and I knew she trusted me and even more so, she trusted that cross.  I took it off and placed it in her hand and she was wheeled away.  Was that moment for her or me?  Did she teach me about faith that day?

The other woman was in the emergency room, she was old and I mean old!  She was over 100 years old.  I remember thinking of all the things she’d seen in her life, all the changes and what she had to have been through.  It became very busy and she was left waiting for a room upstairs.  After about 2 hours, I was going to look in on her,  I walked toward the curtain pulled around her bed and saw through a crack in the curtain her curled up body, hunched over holding a huge magnifying glass in one hand and something else in the other.  I thought:  “What is she looking at?”  As I got closer, I saw it was one of those little New Testaments.  She was reading the bible and it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen!

A smile slowly crept across my face in the middle of a war zone emergency room.  Everything stopped for those few seconds and I stood in awe staring at her.  I imagined how absolutely huge those words were to her eyes with that gigantic magnifying glass.  I walked up to her bedside and read through the looking-glass with her.  She was reading Psalms.  I wished I had paid better attention to exactly where she was reading.  There was probably a message there for me but in my haste I missed it.  But I remembered that day, I remembered her and I will never forget that it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

The Journal of Dreams 01/11/2010

Today I am too tired to fight about things I cannot change.  I remembered my old dad telling me “Don’t go around trying to change things, it’s been that way for a hundred years.”  It is very difficult for me to accept it when it is as simply put.  Imagine if no one ever tried to change anything-ever?

My apologies if I offended anyone.

I have come to a decision to add a page to the official website called hemorrhage where I will write about what I think is wrong and how it affects us, our nation and the world.  Then people can make the decision between right and wrong for themselves.  This page is directly related to Scene II-God and Truth-The hemorrhage of Pigs!  It is where the second painting of politics exist within the first painting of religion.  It is the beginning of the painting within a painting and where the ancient battle of good v.s evil is alive and well.

I am working on sketches of Kennedy.  He is a difficult man to sketch.  His jaw is larger than normal.  In researching JFK, I found information which I did not agree with, like his father being a boot legger, JFK’s own sexual infidelities but then I tried to imagine what it was like for him to rise from the life of his fathers becoming what he came to be.  It was a great achievement, prehaps the greatest for any mortal man.  His heart was good, or he would not have made it as far as he did.  He reminds me of me, rising from the “ashes”, seeking good for humanity and not just for myself.

Martin Luther King was the same way.  He had an alledged affair and at sometime his way of thinking must have changed and it must have been like the world around him came into focus.  Did he realize that he was a very small piece of a much bigger plan.  Is it when you realize this, you begin realizing your destiny?  I should have invested some time of my life in philosophy.  Pondering is with me even in my dreams.  I once heard a man say it is far better to die standing than to live your life on your knees.  That is a good philosophy.