I’m not trying to be silent. I’m struggling. I’m couch bound, re-watching Grey’s Anatomy for the third time marathon style.
I have ten blogs in draft and more in my head but the thoughts race too fast to make sense.
I’m going through some loss of friend stuff. Some Karma stuff that is good but requires mental processing. Some medical stuff. And, well, depression.
I’ll try to post more soon.
*I’m pagan but grew up submersed in Christianity so the Bible is something I am still curious about but I’m not promoting a belief in it
**Please don’t judge my Netflix choices
The other day I chose to watch a series called The Red Tent. I chose it because the description said it was based on a book loosely based on the story of Dinah from the Old Testament of the Bible.
As a rape victim who was raped each time by known perpetrators I was curious about the story of the rape of Dinah.
Dinah. Genesis 34. Sister to the twelve tribes of Jacob. Whose brothers defended her honour when they believed she was raped.
The Netflix version presented another option to my thought process. Same story from another angle. What if she actually loved the prince and was only going against her fathers faith/tradition? Her brothers thought she was defiled but….
I went back and checked my Bible. I checked KJV and JHV (Jail House Version). I had some kind of Bible study looking the story up and comparing it to the movie/TV story.
Even in the Bible her ‘rapist prince’ comes to the father and tries to amend things. He allows Jacob’s sons to circumcise not only him but all his men to prove his love for her.
While they are in recovery? Jacob’s sons go in and murder her husband and all his men in their sleep and kidnap their sister back. They claim retribution but Jacob says they’ve brought shame.
Why would he feel shame in their actions if there wasn’t more to the story?
I’m not sure why I am even writing about this. I believe the Bible to be literature. Some of it is fairy tales. Some of it poetry. Some of it contains general wisdom.
I guess watching this makes me think about women.
The premise of The Red Tent is about what women learn from each other. It’s about the teachings and sacred things that happened in the outskirts where women were told to call ‘unclean’.
*I find that funny because I call ‘unclean’ and joke about ‘going to a tent’ when I bleed…. is that biblically taught behaviour?
In that sacred place they practice a religion outside of ‘Jacob’s’ faith. I identified with the idea of a woman who came from a religion forced on her and broke free.
I watched it to the end. Biblically based (loosely) but it gave me a different perspective. Maybe a woman’s perspective? I’m not sure. But if you have any Christian inclination? I recommend this!
Mine started out innocent. I was having a bad day and a pal convinced me to go to Karaoke Night at Gio’s. (longest running gay bar in North America at the time) My best friend knew I needed a night out. I was reluctant but tagged along.
It started at his friend’s apartment. I was meeting strangers but they all seemed to LOVE me to death. They were drinking champagne and doing shots. Then we left for the club and they ordered pitchers of beer. Sure, I’d take some. Thanks. All of the above.
* side note * I went through a weird phase of being everyone’s favourite fat girl. I was around 300 pounds at the time. I could KINDA hold my alcohol. To a point.
Then we went to Karaoke night at Gio’s.
My gay bestie, Jake, was hosting (My blog about killing Jake) that night. He used all his free drinks to buy me shooters.
Overall? After champagne, shots and pitcher beer? I did nine shots of tequila each followed by a tequila paralyzer.
And that is when she walked in. She looked like a hot mom. Shoulder length blonde hair, so pretty. I looked at her and my friends told me that she was 100% out of my league. I slurred at them they were full of shit.
I walked up to her at the bar and asked if she was with anyone. She said she wasn’t. I said, “You are now.” And I took her back to my table.
Marnie and I talked for an hour or so. we danced for more. When she turned to me, told me my friends were leaving and asked if I had to go? I told her, “Of course not. You’re coming home with me.”
She drove (don’t judge, please, it was more than 20 yrs ago) the few blocks to my place. I learned she was a ‘soccer-mom’ type whose hubby was out of town and she wanted a woman. I was fresh out of Bible College and really wanted every womanly experience I could have.
She was amazing. SO gentle. She had me cumming over and over. I couldn’t wait to go to town on her. Kissing her and tasting my pussy on hers lips made me quiver with excitement.
Maybe quiver too much?
Oh yep. That tequila caught up with me. Just as I got my tongue inside her? I barfed all over her. Repeatedly.
Worse? I found a porno mag, scrawled my phone number in eye liner on some naked woman, tore it out and gave it to her before I passed out.
She never called and I don’t drink tequila anymore. ‘Nuff said.
I wonder sometimes where my obsession for sending mail to people by post (that tangible real mail they can touch with my own handwriting) comes from. Why? Why send a card just to say I am thinking of you? No news, just … I thought of you today.
I send them as often as I can to anyone who will give me an address. Why?
When I was in Bible College we had student mail boxes. Beside them was a rack of blank cards called Care Cards. Did someone help you? Did you think someone gave a great insight in class? Did someone get some sad mail and need a boost?
Care cards were there to send that message. You could sign it or not. If you didn’t really know the person but wanted to send them some love you could look their mailbox number up on the board and just stuff in a care card.
Care cards are the first place I found some real self esteem. I was overweight and not the most outgoing. I stuck to a close group of people who weren’t the cool crowd. Somewhere along the way people started to notice me.
Maybe it was that I smiled at people even if I didn’t talk. It could be my dorm mates just saw me differently after living with me… I’m not sure.
By the time I was done my first year at Briercrest? My entire dorm room was wall papered with Care Cards. With every expression of gratitude for a kindness I never realized I gave and every thought for my well being? I learned people love me for who I am.
Bible College was the first place I never ‘faked it’. Still people cared.
I was so troubled back then. Not even 18 and fresh out of high school. Homesick. Sexually confused. A bit suicidal.
Every care card got me through another day. The people who sent them to me, anonymous or otherwise, have no idea how they impacted a scared teenage girl.
Pretty sure I just figured out where my penchant for sending postal love comes from 😉
I was told what to believe and do for the first half of my life. In those years I rarely challenged those things I was told. I made a few comments, asked a few questions but mostly the things I challenged all happened inside my own mind because I was, well, a child mainly. And also scared. It left me as a very confused young adult.
Now? I meet all kinds of people and work on developing my belief system regularly. I try to be open about it.
I’ve been accused of both doing and believing a lot off things in the past three years.
Some accusations came from the media and those were, just, well, media being media. I suppose. Other accusations were from people I thought were friends, even some family. They decided I was ‘too political’ and/or ‘too different’ for them so they left the friendship behind. Some accusations come from strangers because they read something said about me and formed their opinion based on what they heard. Seems I’m misunderstood about a lot of issues.
More recently there are ‘friends’ who have said things to me, about myself and others, based on world politics. They have made some disparaging remarks based on what they think. Sent me nasty messages because they assume my position on any given subject.
Let me be clear – I don’t care about them attacking – that is not why I am writing this. I’m not feeling bad about online shaming, political or otherwise.
I am not crying for a safe space!
It actually made me think.
There are people who may have read things about me, learned things about my past or for whatever reason have formed their opinion about what I think on political or other socially relevant issues. My own brothers/sister won’t talk to me because they think I am some kind of political dissenter. One brother called me a danger to society and said it was better if my nieces didn’t know me.
I’ve let them all go as they wanted to leave my life. “Don’t want to talk to me? Your issue not mine.” was the attitude. THEY let go, not me. They tossed me away over things they assumed without really knowing what I believe.
When these things are on my mind like they are tonight? I let them ruminate. Sometimes they lead me to a super angry and hurt place. More often it’s a defensive place where I want to tell them all how much they hurt me by simply misunderstanding me.
Right this minute? I’m not interested in ‘defending’ myself. It’s not about feeling oppositional. It’s more about being misunderstood. Then having relationships cut off for something you don’t actually believe.
I have some radical belief situations that cross so many boundaries. I’m going to write out some of my thoughts on them so I can get my real thoughts about them off my chest and then I am letting go of worrying about this.
I tried to write them here but it became too much to include with these thoughts. I’ll cover each subject on it’s own another time
Well, I once again find myself the topic of discussion on your internet forums by people who have no clue about me. I used to find it very disturbing and it made me anxious. Today? I’m laughing a bit.
You were talking about people I truly have no care for. I’ve been known to spew my own hatred of them. But in interest of TRUTH I have to point out a few things.
Firstly, Eric said (referring to Mike Hunt and Kirsten Shaw), “As Burnaby had mentioned, Mike Hunt was involved in the Grand Prairie incident.”
Wrong. Mike knew people involved in that scheme but was not involved as either a buyer or seller. He just knew people who bought into it. It’s like saying Eric stole something and Burnaby 49 is also involved because you both talk on this forum.
Secondly, Eric said, “The best that I can tell is that Mike Hunt after the debacle decamped Alberta for Qualicum. Sometime along the way, during the summer, Paul Fiola’s wife went there as well and was eventually joined by Paul when he got out of jail. If you grovel through Shanda’s blog (btw, NSFW) it seems that Hunt was ripping off the campers, at least in their opinion.” (LOL NSFW, dirty bird read more than one post I see)
The ‘best you can tell’ is so inaccurate. Mike left AB for his own reasons, unrelated to the GP situation. I stayed in Alberta and went the distance in the court system. Paul stayed in Alberta with me under house arrest. Neither of us fled because we believed we were right. I defended myself without a lawyer, not because I am FMOTL but because my lawyer bailed last minute. He bailed when I couldn’t pay him because I am on disability. He left me hanging, two days before trial, to face court alone without any knowledge of the legal system.
After I finished with court, Paul left Alberta with me because I wanted all this behind me. In the year he was waiting for me to finish in court? RCMP and the Justice and Solicitor General for Fish and Wildlife visited our home and Paul was never arrested again. He was never hiding from them.
We came to Alberta together.And it wasn’t to Mike Hunt’s place. We came without knowing he was here and only reconnected on Facebook because we had both joined the same local group online.
I NEVER lived there. I have always found my place and paid rent for it. I would never live with Mike and Kirsten. I would go homeless before that!
Third? “it was nice to have a major chunk of the Canadian Fmotl all in one easy to access spot”
Eric, no one there is FMOTL. THAT is the funniest part. Mike Hunt doesn’t identify with any particular group. Kirsten believes in aliens and thinks she is a Nephilim. They aren’t Freemen, just crazy.
The others who have come there or found there way there went because they had no where else to go. Maybe Dean Kory is FMOTL, I don’t know him personally so I won’t say (unlike you, casting disparaging comments without having met him).
Mike makes promises of community but then fleeces everyone of what they can offer without giving back. Others have come and gone from there. Dean was just the most vocal online.
Burnaby 49 said, “I have to admit I dropped the ball on Dean. Everything seemed so idyllic in his hobo heaven that I stopped actively checking up on his postings.”
Is that what you spend your time doing? Following up on perceived freemen from all across Canada just to bash them online thinking you have any truth to your statements? Your accusations are based on things you read on the internet. You can’t tell me you are so gullible you think everyone types the truth on Facebook.
Burnaby, you’ve accused Paul Fiola of being FMOTL but truthfully you have very little knowledge of him either. You base your ‘truth’ on your online intel. FMOTL don’t have SIN’s, don’t file taxes, don’t have medical coverage, etc. But Paul works under a SIN, files taxes, has a driver’s license. ONLINE, he questions his government and makes grandiose statements about law and freedom. You are judging his online persona. That makes you a fool.
Lastly, when it comes down to it? You are all foolish, short-sighted and thick-headed when it comes to legal/lawful issues. You would rather banter about accusations and biased rhetoric unfounded in facts. And all your ‘intel’ is found online. Which means you believe everything you read on the internet. Which makes you more simple-minded than my six year old niece who at least has the common sense to make a squinchy face and say, “That doesn’t seem right. Can we look it up more?”
I want to thank you for taking my call today. I know, because of my health issues, I can be aggressive and combative. I appreciate your patience with me as I try to express my concerns in ‘not the best fashion’.
Whether you believe it or not? You and I are probably on the same page about Paul.
But, neither Paul or I understand legal process. I don’t understand why this is taking SO long. When I went through this process and my lawyer quit, all I had to do was go into the court, explain my situation and ask the judge WHY it was taking so long. My case was resolved within three days, without a trial and no criminal record (a fine), because the judge made the prosecutor resolve it with me. I told the judge I felt like I was being prosecuted maliciously.
Paul wants resolution. Even if they ask for a year because they are saying he pointed a weapon at someone? (which NEVER happened, I was present at the confrontation with Mr. Wohlgumeth, the trapper was the only one with weapons)…. he’s been in jail for over six months. At 2:1 for time served hasn’t he been in there long enough? Who are they saying he pointed a gun at? I don’t even understand that charge.
And, respectfully, why doesn’t Paul know what his charges are that he is pleading guilty to? If he is being accused of pointing a gun at someone, shouldn’t he be allowed to know who is making that accusation and answer to it? Can we find a way to communicate these things more?
He’s been a model inmate. He’s never caused a problem and when enticed into criminal activity (he got told he had to smash a skinner out) he found a way around it without being involved. But he can’t handle that kind of pressure. He’s peaceful and being confronted by violence every day is killing him. It’s so wrong what happens to people inside.Paul is legitimately remorseful. He only wanted to buy land and he felt it was real. They (the sellers) are the ones who defended him in court the first time and told him it was finished and he could leave the province. He wants NO claim to the land, he is willing to give over all the paperwork and any information about the people who sold the land titles. There are over 500 sections that were sold. Paul was just the first to move in.The courts make him out to be some kind of ringleader but he’s just the guinea pig that got sacrificed. He will never go back. His remorse is genuine.
Even with all of that? We don’t understand. WHY isn’t the prosecution getting back to you with the actual charges? Why isn’t this in sentencing? All Paul wants is resolution and a date he can come home to help me because I am sick.
We just want to know the date. When do I need to hang on until. WHY isn’t this being resolved. We just don’t get it. He is cooperating. I’ve given you all kinds of information about mitigating circumstances. You told me in November he would be home soon and it doesn’t look like he will be here any time soon.
I need him home. YOU are a defense lawyer. I’ve seen career criminals get less time for worse things. This IS ALL POLITICS. They are trying to punish him for their perceived beliefs. How is it you can’t help them see that? (I mean that very respectfully and not in an accusing tone)
I NEED him to come home. I’ve tried to find other health care but I need my partner. The one who has lived with my illness for the past years and can care for me in the middle of the night. I need him.
He is a non-violent person who is willing to comply with whatever they ask. They say he used a gun for whatever but he didn’t. When they came to arrest him he offered them coffee, not bullets. He is not the horrible monster they are making him out to be and holding him for. And I need him home to me. For my health. Please, Mr Teskey, please…. armed robbers get less time. Please get him home to me.
I fucking hate lawyers!
I’m kind of getting tired of the BS surrounding my life.
My legal name is Shaunda Lee Petrova.
I have been accused of being many things. Bitch, addict, whore, skank, ha ha (https://allhoursblog.wordpress.com/2016/09/20/skank/) And this remarkable media display is the only one I don’t cop to.
I went and lived on land that we believed was purchased from the rightful native owners. They sold it, with paperwork and signatures that included thumb prints, and land survey documents. Sold to someone (my BF who is jail over it) who would promise they would not let the Keystone Pipeline through it. No commercial activity for 10 years. A contract.
So, the government and media would like to say we didn’t have the right to purchase the land of the First Nations community who decided to sell right about the time Harper said they no longer have treaties? Seems a little well timed. On both sides.
I don’t know. I just know I moved on to First Nations land to try and protect the forest because I had paperwork that said I could.
In court? The judge called me naïve. Maybe I was. And this stuff is KINDA behind me. Because I went to court. I faced this and in court (despite what this article says) I felt like I won.
Go ahead, Google me. The other articles, various chatrooms, forums. Because today I had another person, who I consider a friend, Google me.
Yep, domestic terrorist. I take trapper’s hostage at gunpoint and get off with a $1000 fines. It’s ridiculous.
But my ex is in jail facing his side of this (which is the same charges as I have, even though Google will tell you different). I feel very sorry they are taking this out on him when I got a fine.
But that is us. So just google me. If you have any questions? Ask!
I made a conscious choice to take hard drugs. I didn’t slide into an addiction because I wasn’t aware of the possible addiction. I jumped into it with both feet and full knowledge. Both times!
By the time doctors realized my health issues meant I would be off work for a very long time I looked like a hard drug addict. And people thought that about me. My mom asked me in the mall one day if I was doing hard drugs. At that point I had dabbled but wasn’t into addiction.
I was okay with dying. I knew it may be the result of the lifestyle I was choosing. But I felt like I was already dead so why not go out with a bang?
I had experimented with cocaine before. It wasn’t long afterward the person who sold me cocaine, James, came into my life to stay.
One ex convinced me to try crack, once, but I knew it would be dangerous so I never tried it after that until? When I was sick off work and felt like giving up I reached for cocaine. Maybe I could OD? I was naive about how that stuff works.
James didn’t have coke for me. But he asked if I wanted some crack instead. I told him I don’t even know how to smoke it. He pulled out his various pipes and a few rocks of crack and showed me.
That night, the first time I did it for real? It felt good. Better than coke and no nasal issues. And he let me smoke as much I wanted. When you are a beginner, only smoking crumbs not rocks, dealers can smoke you up to the point you need them. It costs them pennies. And one night of crack will leave you only wanting more! I became addicted quickly.
At that point I was on disability already. I was making the choice of hard drugs because I wanted to die with a bang but I still liked my apartment, etc. And crack is not cheap! So? I had my dealer move in with me.
I got a $20 piece a day. Every person who came to my place to pick up from him had to pay a tribute hoot to me. And every time he stepped up a notch in the dealer ranks? He attributed to having a safe place to work from. He rewarded me kindly. I could afford my habit because it was practically free.
Then one day there was concern about the traffic at my door. And one of his delivery guys, who often stayed at my place too, was getting unruly. I told James I would still buy off him but I needed him to move out. He left quietly, no problem, and still had his runners deliver to me at discount prices for three days.
Three days later? That unruly delivery guy beat James to death with a meat mallet and slit his throat in the new place they were staying.
That woke me up temporarily. I realized that wasn’t the kind of life I wanted. I realized how close death came to happening in my home again. It scared me a bit.
I quit smoking crack that day. Cold turkey with no program. I had cravings but no other dealer. I was too scared to seek one out. I went through withdrawal. That’s not easy, but I still didn’t go back. It’s been 8 years since my last hit of crack. My addiction lasted less than one year. I’ve been offered crack twice since quitting and turned it down. I’m confident it isn’t in my future.
Did I hurt people during my crack addiction? You bet! It’s when I pushed my family the furthest and did the most damage to my friendships. Even though most of them are still not aware of my addiction. I didn’t care about anything but getting high. I felt like I had nothing to live for so I didn’t care who I hurt by rejecting them. I was already being asked if I was on drugs because no one understood my health issues so why not make it real?
So what was I seeking? Death? What was I covering in the way of pain? Why choose that path?
Those answers I have yet to discover.