Peace, Integrity, Freedom of Speech & Money

What do you value? What is of relative worth & importance to you?
This is what I have been asking myself.

Peace?
Honesty?
Integrity?
Freedom?
Money??

Peace...it's fleeting. It starts from within & it emits out, often times getting bounced right back, but every blue moon you come across that soul who would grind it down to see if they can turn it black like a lump of coal.
Honesty...to be true to one's word thus allowing others to have faith in you
Integrity...having cohesiveness between actions and good moral values.
Freedom...to be open without any coercion.
Money...a medium of exchange for value.

In my little world, that's kind of how I see these things & lately I have been questioning what stands where with me.

My current conundrum is that all but one seem to trying for the number one slot in my personal value system....but it seems as if sometimes these things come with the opportunity cost of another.

Several weeks ago, I received a letter stating that I was going to be sued for my words here and on sites that are designed for customers to review businesses.

I responded, stating that I would gladly oblige any valid requests to remove incorrect information if they could clarify in writing my factual errors & provide documentation of such.
Although I have not received anything in the mail as of yet, I have received a couple of phone calls from the person represented in letter.

In the first phone call, it was stated that they didn't want to sue me and that they didn't really want money from me but they would because they had spoken to lawyers and had been guaranteed that they would win. I listened to the bulk of bantering for just over 15 minutes and got off the phone with the understanding that they would fax me documentation showing that I had written falsities & that if in fact I was in err, I would make amendments & honor their requests.

The second phone call, 35 minutes later, resulted in a voice mail where I was advised that they would not be faxing me anything, as their lawyer supposedly had advised them to save it for court.

I guess the decision was made that one would rather sue me than work with me towards a peaceful end.

I should have known...

Now, I have not met nor spoken with a lawyer.
I have not been legally advised of squat.

I value the truth.
I value integrity.
I value peace.
And, I value our freedom of speech.

Based on good faith, having no evidence of their words' worthiness, having stated clearly my opinions & my experiences...I again exercise my freedom of speech in the name of p-e-a-c-e.

This time, I have pulled down blog posts, comments & words. I have edited online reviews, where allowable, so that my words don't seem so 'mean & malicious.'

I have done this, not because I have been provided with any evidence of possible errs, but because I am trying to balance my values of peace, freedom of speech & integrity.

Again, I have offered repeatedly to retract any legitimate requests to remove any factual errors, as it has never been my intention, nor my understanding, that I have made errors.

As far as opinions go...as they say, they are like assholes...we all have 'em.

I think they should be ashamed of themselves, top to bottom. Based on my experience with them, I don't trust them with a ten foot pole and would never advise a friend, peer, neighbor or co-worker to do business with them...the bottom line is in my opinion, the entire ordeal could have been completely avoided with a little bit of honesty & integrity... some clear, open and honest communication married with fair & reasonable practices. I would never want anyone else to have to go through anything as ridiculous as what I went through for a used stinking car. It has all been absolutely ridiculous.

Actually, maybe now would be a good time to patronize them. Take a mechanic, get everything in writing and tell them Skinny sent you.
Really, they make me sick...

Sir Daleheim would say ''Sue on, Sue-etta."

Sister Sing always says ''In the end, peace wins...I'll meet you there.''

I Love To Be...



Loved...





By

My

Dogs.

I Love to Be...

I Love To Be...

Kissed...





By

The

Sun.

Totems of the River, The Rocks, The Heart & the Great Heron

Fluid, moving & changing it course with time.
All together at once, yet completely distinct.
Life-giving. Life changing.

Looking down. Reflections of oneself. Reflections of the skies above.
Looking again, through clear green-tinted karma... life.
Elders, grand-fathers, heart-shaped rocks.

The Great Heron watches over me. Stares at me. Escorts me. Nothing I do goes unnoticed. So, I do nothing.

Floating in peace.

Following the Great Heron's lead, I watch, I wait...I listen.

Squirrels , badgers, beavers, chipmunks, birds of all colors and sizes....swooshing, scaling, dipping, climbing, digging. Chirping, clicking, calling.

River flies, moths, water skeeters, giant yellow butterflies and dragonflies of blue, green, white, red, purple & gray...flitting, floating, buzzing and humming.

Turtles ducking under the water & fish leaping out...
I just float along.
Watching.
Waiting.

I know that right now this is where I am supposed to be.
These are the waters I am supposed to travel through.
This that surrounds me now, grounds me.

Mother Nature tells me to have patience.
Father-Time tells me that when it's time to dive...dive right in.

The Great Heron plucks one well chosen fish from the natural farm at his feet & gives me a sideways glance. Time.
One, two, three, four, five dragonflies perch upon my leg, my toe, my knee, my elbow and my finger.
This is PEACE.
Lost and found in the eternity of now.
Watching.
Waiting.

When the time is right I paddle off to the side & perch myself upon some rocks, just as the Great Heron had perched himself atop fallen trees & the dragonflies had perched themselves upon me.
With a gazillion stone elders, 'grandfathers' as Spado once told me, at my feet...
and the biggest yellow butterfly I have ever seen on my shoulder...
I found them...
Watching...
Waiting...
Just Like Me...

Gifts from God, Mother Nature & Father Time

We never expected it. Never imagined it. We didn't plan for it, didn't prepare for it.
Life isn't always fun, but when it can be ... it should be.
So, when we realized that the constellations would be throwing eye candy our way, we went with the moment.
Gifts from God, Mother Nature & Father Time.
Outside of the moon & the stars, sea turtle nesting found us in complete darkness come nightfall.
A desolate beach. Paradise.
No high rises. No condos. No surf shops. No liquor stores. One gas station/bait and tackle/grocery that closed at seven.
We stayed up all night, night after night.
We took catnaps by day...
Although we may have slept, here and there, by day...it was at night when we got our rest.
We laid sometimes side by side, sometimes head to head & sometimes toe to toe. Sometimes we even flopped ourselves into the ten o'clock/two o'clock position, draping our knees and feet over one another.
It didn't matter that we had no blankets, nor any pillows.
In fact, nothing mattered.
Utter Peace.
Magnificent Beauty.
Pure Awe.
One shooting star after another.
Purple, pink, blue, white, yellow, red & all shades in between.

Parts of Africa, Eastern Europe, India & the Middle East will get to witness a partial lunar eclipse tomorrow. In the Western Hemisphere, we won't get to see it, but everyday brings something special...if we just open up to it.

May the Beauty of Peace, Love, Mother Nature & Father Time bless us all.

If interested, check out this constellation art...it's beautiful! The software is available for free download. Although my computer too old and stuffed or something to download, they say that you can enter your coordinates and enjoy the nights sky in 3D from your home computer.

(photo:compliments of NASA)

The Voice...Celtic Woman

A couple of years ago, the man that lived with me had the TV on. He was in one room, I in another...the TV echoing out to us from yet another.
We heard this and met in the middle...
When she lets out with 'I am the voice of the future, bring me your peace
Bring me your peace, and my wounds, they will heal,'
I can't help but believe in the truth of the past, the promise of the future & all things meant to be...
The Voice.
Peace.

Stray Dogs, Whoopings and Peace Man

He had a scruffy little head, which he tossed to the left when he wanted to get his dirty blond hair out of his eyes.
He loved to play soccer, as did I... but unlike me, he considered himself to play very well.
We both wore corduroy Levi's and faded t-shirts.
Robert.
Not Bobbie or Robbie. Those names were to laid back for him.
A formal full name for an informal guy.
We had been friends in the years before...
Sometimes riding bikes or throwing the football, walking the creek or feeding stray dogs.
But Field Day came & saw a change between Robert & I.
We bounced on balloons tacked to chairs and made long jumps as far as we could. We ran in sprints and played tug-of-war. A thousand kids with a hundred things to do. Surely a place where there was room for everyone to be winner and for everyone to be a loser.
The line of kids to do pull-ups was short, perhaps the shortest of all the lines.
I got in it, along with Helena.
The boys, including Robert, heckled us as we stood in line.
We put our hands on hips, popped some hi-shine flavored cherry gloss on our lips & rolled our eyes.
When my time came, I pulled up on the bar and did as many as I could in my 60 seconds and then I moved on to the next activity.
When Friday came and all of us sixth graders were due to get our awards and honorable mentions for our physical efforts on Wednesday, I anticipated enjoying the 'free time.' Time spent at school...not doing school work.
What I did not anticipate was getting the award for the most pull-ups achieved in the 6th grade. Nor did I anticipate that Robert would be the runner up and, as our teacher, Mr. Dooley, pointed out... falling 'double-digits behind a skinny little thing.'
That was it.
War was on.
Robert now despised me.
He saw everything I did as competition.
When we played soccer, he'd rather lose the game than share the ball with me. If I scored, he cursed me. After the games, he'd want to argue with me about what I did or didn't do.
At first I tried my rolling of the eyes trick, but that didn't last too many days.
Mom said 'Sometimes a lady just lets a boy win.'
So I gave wise ole Momma's trick a try.
This led to Robert just giving me an increasing hard time. Finally, after one particular game, I had had enough of his laughing, shoving and name-calling.
Before I had time to think about what I was going to say, I was speaking in a flat, low and very grave voice...
'You dumb ass. I freakin' gave you the ball and when you fumbled, I got it back...ran with it, then gave it back to again...so YOU could score! So YOU could feel better about yourself! Not so that you could give me crap.... you're such a loser!'
I saw my words sink in. I saw his eyes level. And then I saw a fire inside of them of the likes that I had never seen before.
'You bitch! I ought to kick your ass!'
'Go For It!'
Tangled in a whirlwind of sandspurs and sand, spit and fire...Robert and I were in a rolling ball of adrenaline, intent on the moment until our coach finally broke us up.
Afterwards, the boys were laughing & the girls were appalled.
Robert & I both were taken to the office.
The principal said he could either call our parents or give us a paddling.
I got six licks across the bottom with the paddle of my choice and Robert got eight.
Before the school year was over, I ended up getting paddled many more times.
But the last time I got paddled, I got paddled alone.
The dew was still wet on the grass and I stood in the quasi-daybreak outside of my classroom door. I was at school early, in fact even before the teachers and buses arrived.
There had been a stray dog, seemingly starving, that I had been feeding and taking water to for a couple of weeks. He'd meet me in the field just off the sixth grade wing. I would sit indian style in the grass and watch him eat and drink, then let him curl up in my lap until the bell sounded. But this morning he was no where to be found....so I stood alone with my paper bag of stolen morsels and metal bowl from home waiting for the day.
I heard the sound of people and knew that the first buses had arrived. There was laughter. I heard it all, but really couldn't be bothered to turn around. I was too intent, looking into the woods that lined the field, hoping to spot my stray dog.
All of a sudden SLAM! I stumbled downwards and forwards, all along having my shoulder ground into the rough, brick wall.
Before I had time to register what had happened, I heard Robert's sarcastic voice.
'Oh, excuse me.'
I was able to keep myself from falling, but my paper bag and books went flying.
Dog food scattered across the walkway.
The howling began....'Look! Skinny brought her lunch today!'
The heckling continued and I said nothing.
As I picked my books up, I looked across the field.
There he was! On the edge of the woods! Sheepishly looking out! Looking for me!
I gathered all the morsels of dog food and threw them in my bag. I stacked my books by the door. I filled my bowl from the water fountain and walked out across the field.
The first bell rang, then the second and there I sat, indian style with a peaceful little bag of bones in my lap.
Finally, Mr Dooley came out to beckon me in.
I watched as the mutt slowly meandered his way, tail tucked between his legs, back to the edge of the woods. Poor little fellow didn't seem like he was doing too good.
At lunch time, I opted for the 'paper bag' lunch, which usually had a peanut butter sandwich and some fruit, and white milk.
I took my bag to the sixth grade wing and looked to the woodline. There he was, just barely in the shade of the trees. I ate some fruit and he had a sandwich and milk.
Seeing the kids pile up in front of my classroom door, I knew that lunch time was drawing near it's end & having been late in the morning, I ran across the way.
When I got there, Mr Dooley had yet to return.
I tapped Robert on the shoulder.
When he turned around, I kicked him in the shin with all the might I had in me.
As I watched him crumble to the ground, I said 'Oh, Excuse Me'.
No sooner had the words sliced their way out of my mouth, then I felt Mr Dooley's hand grab me by the back of my neck.
I showed the principal my scabby shoulder and arm.
He apologized, but stated that no-one had witnessed it.
And that was the day that I got my whippings alone.
A couple days later, I was out in the field with my peaceful stray dog, as was our morning ritual.
Robert snuck up on me & he was alone.
'What do you want?'
'Nothing.... sorry you got whooped alone. I should have been whooped too.'
'It's Ok. I deserved it as much as you deserved getting kicked.'
'That hurt!' and he showed my the yellow green egg on his shin.
I looked down towards my scraped shoulder and arm. 'Well, I found out we're moving on Friday. You won't have me to fight with anymore.'
Robert just looked at me, then at the nameless pooch and finally back again...'Skinny?'
'Yeah?'
'I promise, I'll come early everyday, even on the weekends...I only live a block away, and feed your stray dog.'
'Really?'
'Yeah. Promise. Swear.'
'Ok. Thanks.'
'What's his name?'
'I call him Peace-man, but I guess he really doesn't have a name.'
The next morning, Robert was there before me.
'I saw him, but he took off into the woods.'
I sat down, indian-style, and motioned for Robert to join me.
'Come on Peace-man. Hungry?'
After several minutes, he came. And over the course of the next couple of days he warmed up to Robert.
Lost and Found.
Peace....man.

Bad Wiring...

Bad wiring.
That's what they told my Momma caused our house to burn down.

I understand that 'bad wiring' can cause a lot of things to go wrong, even with people, but part of me always felt like it was my fault.

Maybe it was the 'bad wiring' in me that made the fire happen. After all, I am the one who purposefully stepped on every crack I possibly could on my way home that fiery day.

I heard Momma on the phone talking to Aunt Julip one time about Uncle Clyde. I heard her say in a hush, hush voice that he had bad wiring...maybe I had inherited that bad wiring from him. Maybe one day, I too, would go live at a prison like him and all the other folks with bad wiring. Or at least, those that didn't get shipped off to live at a place called The Loonie Bin.

Dennis had a beautiful mother. She looked like Mindy from Mork & Mindy, but with shiny beautiful streaks of silver in her long brown hair. When she ran, those silver streaks looked like shooting stars fallen to the ground, bouncing their way around her face. I couldn't help but gravitate towards her when she came running to fetch Dennis and I. I felt right at home, for the moment, in her arms and then, I felt guilty. She wasn't my mother and I had truly never felt relief in another womans' arms before. But relief is what it was.

The three of us walked slowly back to Dennis' house. Unlike most adults, his Mom walked defiantly down the middle of the road. No cars came down, as if they knew that this was her territory and they dared not cross her path. She had a mission & I guess that was to get Dennis & I back to the safety of her home. Dennis and I walked in silence, each of us attached to either side of her but I couldn't help but look at her through the corner of my eye. Her hair, unlike mine, was thick and full. It bounced & blew free in the wind. Her hair seemed to have a life of it's own, a natural outpouring of her. I thought about my own hair. Thin, limp and lifeless. Just then, I realized that my shoulders were slumped and I wondered if I got better at holding my shoulders up, if i too, one day, would have thick, vibrant hair.

When we got to his house, his father was elbows up & head down in the trunk. He didn't see us coming and didn't really acknowledge us upon our arrival.

Feeling my sweaty fingers getting kinked, knuckle over knuckle, I realized his Mom still had not let go of our hands and in fact, her grip was getting tighter.

'Home early, huh?'
'Yeah.'
'What's going on?'
'What does it look like? I am busy trying to find some files, okay?!'
'Well, okay. Sorry, I just wasn't expecting you home so early.'
'Well I am. What are you guys doing?'
'I was just going to fix an after-school snack for the kids, then let them play some games or something.'
'Well, I have work to do here today, so that's probably not a good idea. Maybe they can go play games at Paige's house instead.'
'Oh... that's not an option, honey.'
"What?! Not an option?! She can come here, eat our food, play our games?!? But our son can't go there?! Then maybe she should just go the fuck home & play with her damned self!"

I felt the blood rush to my head & I felt my knees begin to shake. Dennis & I never played over at his house! His dad didn't know. He was never home! I felt the blood rush back to my fingers, but just for a moment. The moment between Dennis' Mom letting go of our hands & me clenching my fist.

'Children! Go Inside!'
We budged not an inch.
'Steven... that is not an option because Paige's house burned today. Okay?'

She didn't spit these words out like a woman who walked in the middle of the road. They came out of her like a first grader confessing a potty accident. Suddenly the shiny silver of her hair started to look dull and gray.

'Great! How bad is it?'
'Children... I said go inside....please. It's totaled Steven.'
'Shit! How the fuck did they do that? How long is she here for?'
'I don't know. The fire department just finished putting it out.'
'Sheesh! How long is she here for?'
Until her mother comes to get her.'
'Fuck! When will that be? When she's eighteen?'

I don't know how many times he had said it, but it was the whine in his voice that caught my attention. It was Dennis, he was half way to the door...'Come on Paige.'

I didn't know what to do. I looked at his parents, who were glaring and speechless, staring at one another. My fist were still clenched. I ran to Dennis.
'Man, is your dad drunk?'
'What?'
'Is he drunk or something?'
'Nah, he just gets like this. Come on in.'
'Ummmm, I don't think so.' I sat down on one of the two steps that led up to his door.
Hand on the doorknob, head cocked to the side...'What? Come on in Paige.'
'Nah, my Momma told your Mom she'd pick me up here. I'll just wait for her here. She won't be too long.'
Dennis plopped down beside me.
Once again, Dennis and I found ourselves sitting on the cool concrete watching the turmoil before us....contemplating what to do and opting to do nothing.

ps...this is fiction folks. To see the parts before this, click FICTION below and read the oldest first. As always..peace & love.

Round2: Smart Cars Inc of Acworth Georgia Ain't So Smart

"The Truth is like the Sun. You can shut it out for a time, but it ain't goin' away"Elvis Presley


"I never did give anyone hell. I just told the truth and they thought it was hell." Harry Truman


"Peace if possible, truth at all costs." Martin Luther

The original post has been moved to archives & comments on this post have been stopped.

I have pulled down blog posts, comments & words....in good faith.

I have edited online reviews, where allowable, so that my words don't seem so 'mean & malicious.'

I have done this, NOT because I have been provided with any evidence of possible errs, but because I am trying to balance my values of peace, freedom of speech & integrity.

I have offered repeatedly, in writing and verbally, to retract any legitimate requests to remove any factual errors, as it has never been my intention, nor my understanding, that I have made any errors... and I do value the truth.

Since I was advised that this would not happen...that instead that evidence is being 'saved for the courtroom'...what's Skinny to do?

Sigh.

I guess I'll just wait on the papers....

UPDATE:
Smart Cars Inc. has never provided me with any evidence of what they accuse me of... publishing false information, nor have I been served with papers, which I was advised would be forthcoming.
I stand by my word as being nothing but the truth.

I regret that any of this has happened. I never wanted to be jerked around for a month and shafted for some serious cash, much less bullied and threatened for months and months after the fact... nor do I like to say things that are not positive but the truth isn't always nice.

It seems that the so called owner of Smart Cars Inc of Acworth GA is writing reviews for herself, giving her business 5 stars of excellence.
She can write all the positive reviews about herself she wants. She can do so under other names if she wants. I don't care.
I just don't like being lied about, especially for self-serving and manipulative purposes.

That being said, ALL negative reviews have NOT been written by me.
I taken full ownership and responsibility for any reviews I have written. I always have. If they have other dis-satisfied customers, and it seems they do, then that is their business. I do not appreciate being played as a scape-goat for the negative who-haa that, I believe, they have brought upon themselves. I am sure the other reviewers would not like to have their words dismissed and pawned off upon me, as much and if not more, than I dislike being used and lied about.
I have NEVER been fined by the State.The Secretary of State Used Motor Vehicles Division does not fine citizens. They fine Used Motor Vehicle Dealers when they have done something wrong. It is not my fault nor problem that Smart Cars Inc has been fined.
Failure to do title work was NOT my fault, but merely a problem I had to find a resolution to. I NEVER refused to provide them with a copy of my D.L. I gave them copies...more than once. Two in person and third in a traceable means...over the course of three different months. The err was theirs.

I truly do believe that life is for living, learning and loving...
and that if we aren't doing all three of these things, then we aren't doing a single one of them efficiently.

"When one is truthful with oneself, it is inherent that they are true to all around them."

Last One Standing & First One Down

Barefoot, with toenails painted & fingers not, sporting jogging shorts and a black sabbath tank, the dog days of summer were upon us.
The fire engine red polish winked back up at the sun, as did the wet, wavy tinsel some 30 feet below.
The iron tubing that served as the top bar on the safety railing was as hot as an iron skillet ready for batter.
With both arms behind me, I gripped the bar with one hand, then the other. Playing hot potato.
'David did it.'
'Yeah, so did Will. He said it was fun.'
'A lot of people have done it.'
'I heard it's a rush man.'
'Are you gonna do it?'
'Yeah, I'll probably go for it....you?'
'I don't know...looks pretty scary.'
I say nothing and notice that the iron tube seems to be cooling under my palms.
A 1965 white T-bird convertible pulls up and Billy bellows out...
'Skinny! What the phuck are you doing?!'
'Just hanging out'
A horn honks...pulling away, Billy barks 'Hang on! Lemme park this beast.'
Before he can run up the incline of the bridge, a 79 Spyder comes driving past.
It's Steve.
Steve who is 3 years older than me.
Steve who has delicious blue eyes that seem to dance when I'm around.
Steve who surfs & smokes pot & makes me stomach do flips.
Steve who bangs a U-turn when he sees me.
Steve who came back around and stops just in time to see Tracey pull my jogging shorts down to my ankles.
Steve who saw me instinctively let go off both bars to pull my bottoms back up.
Steve who saw me do what no one else there had done.
Plunge 30' feet down off the bridge and into the open salty waters below.

Sometimes...in life, if we don't jump or get pushed, we simply fall to where we are meant to be.
'Last One Standing' Outsider Hippie Art By Sister Singleton