This is what I originally was going to name this: WARNING! Anne Frank reading material. Then, out of the blue, right before I began to type out edited excerpts from page 1 of what is my very first real attempt at keeping a real paper diary, like the ones I have always written in since I was a little kid when I received one with a flimsy little lock on the front of it (if any of you can recall these things, which I’m sure they still sell at the dollar-stores), I decided to change the title to what I felt was a little more fitting & marketable to the human eye. The reason why I stopped writing inside of a notation book is most probably because of the fact that I was raped & pillaged with regards to people not respecting the right that I have to my own privacy & belongings, and this stems way back to childhood.
Etwas für meine neue Aufgaben
Something for my new homework
There have been instances in my life where people have stolen things that I held personally valuable but were in fact not valuable to them in any way whatsoever, and I believe that the people who robbed me of these types of dearly personal items, like the people who took my Queen 45 (of Killer Queen [found on the A-side] & Flick of The Wrist [found on the B-side], and there is no pun intended in this unless of course you want to see some metaphoric value in it) from inside of my desk while I was making the rounds changing over classes in grade school, the one who intercepted & read a letter I had meant to mail to someone close to me when I was just a pre-pubescent teen, the one who took my blue duo-tang that I kept my short stories, poetry & sketches in during the 70s, and the ones which included members of the OPP who took my last diary before this one from my personal belongings (just over 2 years ago), are joy-stealers.
To date, I have recovered a lot of the items that have been pillaged, but there are still a lot of things that need to be compensated for, and that includes not only the items that are still missing but the onslaught of illness that befelled upon me because of these inhumane acts, drastic symptoms of which include vomiting, loss of weight, inability to focus & concentrate, anxiety & panic attacks, irregular sleep patterns, & fleeting bouts of sporadic paranoia.
Sometimes I feel like the world is going to hell in a handbasket, and now that everyone knows all about me, based solely upon the random thoughts I have written on paper, captured on film, or even in my computer, elements contained within that consist of not only truth but also lies, dreams & fantasies – all my personal feelings that I’ve been raped from, including the right to be with whom I choose to keep company with, I thought that it would be best if I just moved away in the new year, to a place where maybe there are people who will sanctify & ensure the requirements of my most valuable PERSONAL privacy, PERSONAL safety & PERSONAL belongings, and keep these all intact.
There are a couple of more things I forgot to add to the list of characteristics one who’s been raped & pillaged might display. One of them is that spinning feeling one might get, like the girl inside of the room in that Body Bags movie by John Carpenter (or so I think that’s where that skit’s from, if I can recall correctly), the woman who more or less gets electrified (no, not electrocuted, but it sure feels the same way) by electrical shock therapy by the people that she paid & hired to help her to quit smoking while also agreeing to the "or-else factor" that was written in the fine print… and need I say more here? Not only that, there are also times where you get a swooning feeling, like you are going to faint, when you think there shouldn’t be any reason for it. I call this the unbearable truth that sinks in every once in a while, after it creeps its way out of that compartment in your brain where we neatly tuck away & keep stored all of the bad things we don’t want to think about.
I never really was interested in history much, and same with geography. Those 2 mandatory classes in school I probably just barely got by on, with an average passing grade. Not until this point in my life, at 47 years of age, did I begin to take any interest in learning more about the patterns of historical & geographical significance. I never confessed that I was a scholar, by any means, either. I don’t have that much education, and maybe not even as much as most people do in my city, but about that I’m not too certain, because of the ever-increasing population of foreigners who can’t hardly read or speak English (the predominant language), so how can they be well versed in our policies, procedures & belief systems, including our rights, when they know very little of them when they arrive here in this supposedly free country called Canada. I could never stand politics either & would shy away from it – just blocking it all out altogether. Now, all of a sudden, KAPOOM, I am paying serious attention to these new interests of mine that I used to have no time for, including things that I never liked much either, for instance, certain foods like squid & oysters, to name a couple, or even the colour blue, which was probably my least favourite next to the colour yellow, BOTH of which I now appreciate.
Perhaps you all might not get the gist of what I’m saying here yet, but I feel that I have shed enough light upon the matter, for now, and I hope this raises a lot of eyebrows & questions to those of you who have been the victims of rapists like the ones I have been speaking of, for that which they essentially are, even though they are not actually physically raping us. I implore you, to search within yourself & find an answer as to why we should be raising children to behave in this fashion – children who later on grow up & WANT to have children of their own.
Now I finally understand why there are people, like Italians for instance, who love to hang out in the basement – as a FAMILY (in red because they’re supposed to be as thick as blood, or so I’ve heard through the grapevine when I’ve felt like getting wrapped up in it) and by that, I don’t mean being held in captivity like people who are victims of others who participate in something called the Stockholm Syndrome (& if you don’t know what that is, please find it in the net – and I most definitely don’t mean any pun in this, either), or even from being shell-shocked from the past or have been inhabitants dwelling in tornado-stricken lands.
Don’t worry, for as you can see, it’s taken you longer than 2 minutes to read this, and I was only lying to you originally by alerting you to the fact that it will combust in 2 minutes, sorta like they used to do in that old TV show I used to watch as a kid, you know the one they made that film out of that Tom Cruise (whom I’m actually starting to like now, after all this time) starred in?
As already noted above, this was originally written, more or less, in draft version, on page 1 of my new paper diary, off of the top of my head, just out of the blue, WITHOUT being influenced from speaking with anyone else about this today (or any other day, for that matter, because I’m really not into talking to people all that much except for a few close friends whom I hardly ever talk to, either, by the way) so, my guess is that you should take my written opinions & thoughts seriously & with a grain of salt while you’re putting some deep thought into what I’ve taken the time out today to do by composing this (despite the great deal of discomfort & pain I’m feeling today from my permanent injuries & battle scars) and accept this blog for FREE/AU GRATIS, which is nothing other than ONE OF MY ONE-&-ONLY ORIGINALS by none other than moi, Mizz Edith Carolyn Kuechen (or Küchen) – and yes, that means kitchens in German, where I hear most of my male ancestors on that side of my family (from what used to be called West Germany) like to hang out.
Apparent freedom:
The final forming of a person’s character lies in their own hands (written by the hand of Anne Frank)
Sir Arnold, all you kuda sed wuz 
thelightningphoenix 