Practicing Random Acts Of Kindness,Affirming Prosperity
No-one has ever become poor by giving. ~ Anne Frank
Hello Amazing Person!
You know everything happens for a reason, including finding and reading this letter. This reminder is to let you know that you are so loved and appreciated!
Thank you for being yourself, and not letting others change your mind. Your strength and honesty is recognized by me> many others, too!
The world is a better place because you are in it. Let your inner light shine through in every situation. Know you are loved and protected.
Have faith that where you are now is where you are supposed to be. Dream big, my friend, gigantic, miraculous dreams.
The world needs you!
Keep being awesome!
We love you truly!
The Universe and “Me” Love,Lightand Laughter
You’ve fought the crowds at Wal–Mart and go to the bus stop with your bags, stressed, wondering if you’ll make it through until the next paycheck. As you approach the bench, you see an envelope with hearts drawn everywhere and a handwritten note reading:
“Whoever finds this . . .it’s for you!
Yep,you found it,you are supposed to open it.
As you pick up your envelope, you turn it over and see:
“Open …Read …Keep! Practice random acts of kindness.”
From early childhood I loved writing letters. Considering my father was a proud postal worker (completely opposite of the disgruntled postal worker title)–and from day one taught me how to correctly address an envelope; and the capital of each state. I wrote my first letters very early. A childhood friend told me, as early as three or four years old [I was reading and writing before age 3]; “you used to send me letters and you wrote stories“.
Apparently,they were original stories.It was no surprise when I started school,I would win several writing awards in my lifeandam a published writer,produced playwrightand have professionally written two screenplays.
The other thing I became noted for was my lovely handwriting. I remember the day that happened. Up to the beginning of 5th Grade, my printing and beginning cursive was like any other child of my age.I preferred writing on lined paper to make all my letters the right size. Then, I saw my teachers’ handwriting – it was gorgeous, a thing of beauty. Her name was Anne Rhodes: She was harsh, as a teacher, grumpy. [Ms. Rhodes was the older sister of the Congressman John J. Rhodes]. I asked her how she made her handwriting so beautiful. Ms. Rhodes told me, “You just do it!” I decided I would, from that day forward; my handwriting was neat and has brought me many compliments through my nearly half century on this planet.
Early on, around the age of 10, I was already an avid Anglophile [A person who is fond of or greatly admires England or Britain]. So, I wrote a letter and addressed it to “Any girl between the ages of 8-12 in London, England”; my father mailed it overseas for me. Some weeks later, I received a letter from a girl a year younger, give or take, than me in Skegness, Lincolnshire, England; Joanna Foreman and I wrote, drew pictures and kept in touch until we were in our 20s. We have never met in person. Joanna is now in the South of France, married, a mother and a newscaster. I have tried to get in touch with her to no avail (so far).
When I started doing school and community theatre in my hometown of Phoenix, Arizona; my opening night gifts were usually handwritten notes to my other cast members – telling them how much I enjoyed working with them. I was pen pals with several friends, too. By my mid-20s, though, as we were just getting computers and the basic beginnings of email. . .I got out of the habit of handwriting things. . . true for many of us.
All my life, for the most part, I have been into spiritual studies, everything from the Golden Rule to my first “self-help” book at the age of 15-years-old – Your Erroneous Zone by Dr.Wayne Dyer. Soon after, I moved ontoCreative Visualization by Shakti Gawain; which, for many of us, was our first peek atLaw of Attraction.
Inspired by Oprah Winfrey and hearing her story, a devotee of Law of Attraction (LOA) and thinking about all the miracles I, myself, and others had created in our lives with creative visualization and the new Law of Attraction movement – I started my own LOA Meet-Up Group in Queens, New York. For my birthday in 2007 – three of us, from my LOA Meet-Up Group passed out $5.00 bills [we each donated $100, split into twenty $5.00 bills]. Taking a cue from the homeless who step onto a car and do a spiel about hard times and needing some money to feed their children, or get a meal, etc. We followed that script with a twist.
“Hello, I’m sorry to interrupt you. My name is Angela, life has been good to me. And I here to give everyone on this train [subway] $5.00 to say ‘My life is going great’!”
We had some people who looked at us funny or refused the money, others asked if it was real, and some gladly received the gift! One homeless man kissed the $5.00 bill over and over! Another young college student told me, “I don’t have money for f!!#k!” I handed her the $5.00 bill and said, “Now, you buy some f!#k!” We both had a good laugh. It felt rather incredible!
Which brings me to something I read about recently: It was a post on one of my many LOA Facebook groups – An LOA group. I started my own group – in order to practice the art of tithing (giving):
I took to it immediately and began writing anonymous, handwritten, love letters to strangers! Brilliant! As someone who has felt left-out, depressed and been teased growing up; it certainly was great when someone would encourage me to keep going.
I read the stories, and the main story about the woman who made the news with her love letters to strangers. Yes, in my years, and with all those self-help, spiritual and law of attraction books I have read cover to cover, all these years; I had heard stories of people receiving anonymous letters that changed their outlook; i.e.When Carol Burnett was a young girl, she needed $50.00 to attend an acting class.She worked very hard to earn the money to no avail. Then, she came home one day and found an anonymous envelope in her mailbox; it contained a note and $50.00 for her class.
This was how her career started! The note merely said it was for her class – the exact amount – and stated the belief that Carol would be successful. Carol Burnett never found out who gave her that gift. It could not have been her mother or family, as they did not have the money.
BURNETT: No, I never made up my mind — I never said that to myself, I just wasn’t that interested in, you know — and I always felt there was something that was going to happen. I always — Ivisualized myself in certain places. And, you know, we were poor.
But I always knew something good was going to happen. And one time I visualized myself going to UCLA, which I wanted to do very badly. And we didn’t have the tuition for it, you know. And I had the grades. And the tuition, get this, was $43.
MORGAN: Is that what it was?
BURNETT: Yes. And we were on welfare and so couldn’t do that. And my grandmother wanted me to go to some Woodberry College for secretaries so I could nab the boss.
BURNETT: You know? To her it was get a rich man.
BURNETT: And I said, no, I know I’m going to get — I’m going to get to go to UCLA. And we lived in this one-room apartment off of Hollywood Boulevard, and our door opened into the lobby and I could see the pigeon-hole letter boxes. And this one — and it was my little chore to run out and get the letters if there was one in our slot.
And I — this one morning I came out and saw this letter and then I got it and it was addressed to me.With a $0.03 stamp on it, but it hadn’t been mailed, hadn’t been canceled. An address, typewritten, I opened it up and out came a $50 bill.
To this day, I don’t know where that came from.
BURNETT: We didn’t have the money.
MORGAN: What an extraordinary story.
BURNETT: Yes. It just happened. And that was — that’s how I got to UCLA.
And even when my group gave out the $5.00 bills . . . our intention was to pay it forward, to give to the world to affirm our belief in prosperity.
Thus, when I was reminded of how wonderful it is to give to others with unconditional love, just, if nothing else, to make someone’s day! I wrote some anonymous love letters. I wrote what I felt I would want to hear, what would encourage me. Sure, I borrowed some words from those who had already started this movement, and wrote many of my own. As I heard what many of the love letters were doing – where they would leave these notes, etc. – I went out and left my envelopes on subway seats, bus seats, in trees and shrubs, in bicycle baskets. I did this all around my home – at the time – in Union City, NJ.
Often it impressed me how I found interesting places to put the letters – i.e. in the card slot at a little store on Bergenline Street; the window of one the Jitney vans; on the table inside the post office and among the toiletries in a Duane Reade in Port Authority, New York.
I vowed, in February 2013, to write, at least, one love letter a day for the entire year. Having fallen behind, I now write about seven to fourteen in batches. Now, they are placed in my new neighborhood of Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, New York and heading into Manhattan and often in Manhattan. Wherever I’m traveling.
My goal is place them without being seen. . .hard in the crowded streets of New York. Still, I manage to do it.
There were a couple of very special moments for me.
In one of my first batches, I was on the A Train returning from a friend’s place in Washington Heights [left several letters in that area, too]. A woman came onto the crowded train and took the only vacant seat beside me. She looked upset, sad and in pain (emotional). My urge was to give her a letter – she, obviously needed some cheering up or an encouraging word. Too embarrassed to just hand it to her [she might think I’m weird], when she was getting off the train – and I still had a few stops to go; as she stood up, I handed her one of my envelopes and said, “I was told to give this to you!”
The woman took the letter, smiled a bit and said “Thank you.”
Also, since February, in several of the letters, to affirm prosperity, I’ve slipped in $1.00 bills. Just a little gift for them; as we all know the little thrill it is finding a dollar on the ground. I have started, also, printing half of the letters – andplacing them near middle schools with $1.00 in them– just in case a child finds them and cannot read cursive yet! Also, with young children, $1.00 is considered an incredible treasure to find!
Finally, I really wanted to see how it affected the finder and reader of these letters. One time, with my friend, Fredy — again, on the A Train going toward Manhattan, from Washington Heights. I place one of the envelopes across from us on the vacant subway car.
As the subway filled up with rushing people, we witnessed this:
A middle-aged man, carrying a backpack, went to sit on the vacant seat with our envelope there, reading: FOR YOU, YES YOU!
He, with a sort of scowl on his face coming into the train, took on a slight smile as he picked up the envelope. Fredy and I tried not to stare, but watched him.
He read the envelope, turned it over a few times, readying “Practice more random acts of kindness”, etc. He carefully opens the envelope – trying not to rip the flap with my words and drawn little hearts – he did a good job.
He unfolded the heart-shaped paper and began reading my lovely cursive; the scowl now turned to a smile and he seemed moved. He stared at the letter a few seconds after reading, turned it over again. He carefully folded it back, as if it was delicate and important to him, and put it back in the envelope. He held tightly to the letter. Then, a few minutes later, he opened it again and re-read it! This time with that happy smile of a person who really needed to hear/see those words. He was moved and it nearly made mecry.
Once again returning it carefully to its envelope, he exited the train, carefully making sure he had the love letter for him!
My friends, it feels good, even just knowing you are making someone’s day. You may change a life or encourage someone to pursue their dreams. You may be a catalyst to someone in the world who needed exactly your words of encouragement, at that exact moment. Everything happens for a reason.
Go ahead; check out my page or the pages below . . . start spreading love to the world, one stranger at a time.You may be the very miracle someone needs. You may save a life, change a life, for the better, comfort a bullied child or adult, help someone get through another hard day.
The truth is clear. The more you give, the more that comes to you. It is the law of nature. What you give out comes back to you tenfold. Oprah has and is giving away millions of dollars, all the time. She is blessed with success all the time. Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt and Bill Gates are “givers” – money, time and more. They are all millionaires or billionaires.
Whatever you believe, the Universe has blessed these givers with financial security, loving families and joy.
Here are links, once again, to several of the love lettering Facebook pages and websites.
If, by chance, you were in Union City, NJ. . . Manhattan, NY . . . or Washington Heights. . .on the A Train or at Port Authority … or in Brooklyn, NY . . . and have found one of my letters, please, drop me a note here or in one or all of the groups!
On Saturday, June 9, 2012 in Harrisburg, PA, I boarded the Amtrak #672 Train to New York City/Penn Station.
I had too much luggage (as usual), which included my black camera bag with both my camcorder and my 35mm camera.
On the Everio camcorder I have video’s from 2011 to June 8th, 2012. That was the high school graduation of my adopted niece from Hughesville High School — including the footage of theAmerican Sign Language Interpreterfor her deaf father. Certainly memories we cannot replace.
TheEverio camcorderalso had the wedding of John Sowle and Steven Patterson in Hudson, NY. I was the only videographer. These are also not replaceable.
My35mm is a Pentax SLR X, digital and it is bright red in color. Photos from the high school graduation and other photos — which I can identify — when it is found.
What happened? Too much luggage and I had place my backpack (with my computer) and the camera bag stuffed under the seat. I was in about the third to fifth car from the front. I was at the end of the train — where there are four seats facing each other — and above me, the overhead bin. In the overhead bin there was an unmarked cardboard box and a yellow step stool upside down. On one occasion a staff member of Amtrak pulled something out of the cardboard box.
Beside the cardboard box, I put my clothes bag and luggage rack thing. Anyway, when we arrived in New York (8:30pm), I grabbed everything — I thought — and pulling out my backpack probably pushed the camera bag deep under the seat (against the wall).
About two hours later — because I was so tired — I realized I had left the most important part of my luggage, my camera bag and cameras! Immediately called Amtrak and a lost report was written up. The good news was that the train — from NYC — had gone straight to the yard. The cleaning crew, at that time, had not found it.
My bag has the gray and black — completely different design, though. And is sort of similar to these two illustrated bags together.
So far, as of today Monday, June 11th at 9:00am it still has not been located.My feeling is either 1) it is stuffed so deep under the seat and the cleaning crew did not bend down to find it; 2) a staff member found it and put it somewhere besides lost and found [either too busy to get it there or kept it] or 3) a passenger found it and kept it and 4) someone who found it hasn’t had time to turn it in.
My hope is someone will be honest and kind enough to realize the memories on those photos and videos are NOT replaceable and do the right thing . . . return my cameras! Also in the bag was the power plug for the camcorder.
If anyone finds it, I am offering a reward for the return of the cameras. Contact me at: AngelAura28@yahoo.com
At age 10, I was cast as ‘Helen Keller’ in a classroom production of The Miracle Worker; mind you, without an audition– The director, Lisa Lee, a classmate, thought I looked like the real Helen Keller – so now, almost forty years into my theatrical life. What I have learned, in recent years [i.e. the last thirty] – over fifty stage productions to my credit – this business called theatre does attract some real crazies.
Sure, I admit to my foibles, flaws and a touch of narcissism – most actors have that, alongside symptoms of MPD [Multiple Personality Disorder], too many OCD’s (Obsessive/Compulsive Disorder), Tourette Syndrome. Unfortunately, a true sociopath comes along once in a while!
Back in the 1990’s I heard a story about one such psychotic male actor. An actor – by all outward appearances, was a somewhat normal guy [for an actor]; he fell in love or lust for a young actress, in a top acting class, at a popular New York school they both, separately, had auditioned for and been accepted into [this class]. This actor asked the young actress out on a date. She politely turned him down. All seemed well as they worked together as scene partners. After awhile, the actor began to pester the young actress to go on a date with him. She asked him to stop bothering her about it . . . numerous times . . . until finally, she had to be very firm. The actor did not return to class for weeks. One fateful day, as the young actress entered the classroom, an envelope was waiting for her, and she was told it was left … by the actor. Inside the envelope she found a marriage license — for her and the actor! The sociopath actor had gone to the courthouse, applied for a marriage license and forged the young actresses’ signature!!!
She called the police and had to place a restraining order on him.
What is it with people? Why do certain groups attract certain people?
In my case, I have attracted them in theatre and mostly, via my admiration for a certain celebrity.
I’ll begin with the fans; although, my goal is to share my most recent situation – a theatre stalker.
It sort of goes hand in hand . . .
As a long-time fan of Tim Curry, my relationship with his fans has been, most of the time, like living in a mental ward of disorders. I’ve met obsessive, compulsive, manic and delusional fans.
DISCLAIMER: I have also met some of my best friends directly through my love, lust and admiration for TC.
Am I one of those mentally disturbed fans, too? Certainly I was, and still am, rather obsessive, yes [about a lot of things and people: Tim Curry, Alan Rickman, Broadway Musicals (especially “Wicked”), clean bathrooms (have a phobia of public bathrooms that are not pristine) and NYC] . . . although, I am not any more obsessed with Tim Curry (TC) than 100s of other TC fans I’ve met.
In fact, let’s get real, some of them far more bizarre than I could ever be!
Since my obsession began, in 1983, I have been lied to, lied about, accused, followed and stalked by TC fans, themselves. What was always funny [odd] to me was the fans who accuse me most of being a stalker are the ones stalking me! When I point out the fact they are stalking . . . bullying . . . and attacking me, they; like all people who victimize others, try to convince me how they are justified in their mistreatment of me; victimizing me once again.
First, let me say, if I’m stalking Tim Curry…I am the laziest one ever! I live 3000 miles from where TC lives . . .have missed seeing him dozens of times [when we were in the same city], have never been to his home, nor dug through his garbage [that was a completely different fan – definitely NOT me].
I have a germ phobia, thus, dumpster diving or even keeping, touching or saving used garbage [even if it was TCs], is out of the question for me!
I once lived only three hours away (from NYC), when TC was doing, Spamalot, on Broadway. On a one-day visit to NYC, I actually turned down a ticket to see the show because, a) I was with friends, in NYC, and there was only one ticket available, and b) I didn’t want to see him at that time. TC was one block away from me, and I did not even attempt to see him! How is that stalking?
If someone told me, this minute, TC was down the block from me, I would not go see him. You see, I’m here, at home, with no make-up on, and need a shower, a weight loss of about 50 lbs [if I had my preference] and my eyebrows waxed. I have absolutely nothing to wear today, and don’t feel like taking a shower or putting on make-up.
Thus, at best, I am a lazy stalker. I just don’t want to have to go out of my way to find him, see him or whatever. Now, if Tim Curry wanted to call me, I’d be happy to chat on the phone. That said, if I don’t recognize a number, I would never answer! So, probably wouldn’t even chat with him, unless he left a voice-mail and said who it was.
Thus, before accusing me of stalking, you need to check your facts – and laws – about what exactly stalking is.
A stalker will:
1) Continue to contact a person who has told the stalker to STOP [contacting] the victim.
FACT: Tim Curry has NEVER told me to stop being his fan . . . buying tickets to his shows . . . writing him the occasional letter . . . seeing him when I do.
In fact, has always been accepting and seems to enjoy seeing me!
2) Puts forward false and negative words toward the victim, often falsely attributing acts and words to the person they are stalking.
FACT: This is called SLANDER.
FACT: The words I attribute to TC are positive, funny and do not hurt or slander him.
3) Bullies the victim they’ve chosen to stalk.
You are a stalker:
When a person [themselves—not his or her fans] tells you NO or LEAVE ME ALONE, and you feel the person “doesn’t mean it” or you decide to “do it anyway”. It is a crime and makes you a stalker!
If you are sending email and letters telling your victim, “You’re worthless . . lazy . . .ugly . . .a stalker . . . dangerous . . . a threat [to TC] or others . . . undeserving” – particularly, when this person 1) does not contact you, 2) has never done anything, at all, to you and 3) doesn’t bother you . . . makes YOU a STALKER and a BULLY!
If you CLAIM to have been told by the person [them self] that they “hate” or have a “problem” with a said fan [me]. I am sure putting words into someone’s mouth would upset the person. It is also hearsay.
Someone (a so-called fan) did have the nerve to tell another fan – not me, mind you – that Tim Curry told her that he “hates” me and that I am to “be avoided” and I am “dangerous”.
>> First off all: If it were true [that TC felt that way about me, or anyone]. The person who made him feel that way would have been arrested whenever near him.
>> Despite rumors about me. I have never been arrested nor served a restraining order, or any other legal document from legal representatives, police officers nor Tim Curry or about Tim Curry. None.
>> If you care to check it out. All things, such as restraining orders, court appearances and arrests are public domain. As long as you know someone’s full legal name you can, with the right inquiry, do background check and find all records of public domain. It costs about $25 to $100 on places such as http://www.spokeo.com and other background check websites.
>> I say this because 1) I have nothing to hide, 2) my record [at least, regarding TC and stalking] is completely clean because I DON’T DO THAT!
You are a stalker:
If you go public on your Facebook wall . . . send emails [see above] . . . comment on websites (i.e. YouTube, WordPress) and telling the victim how terrible you, in your opinion and insight, feel this person is; making yourself the security guard, police officer for some celebrity you do not know personally and/or the therapist of the person you are bullying.
Yet, you do not hold a degree; and if you do, you are NOT treating me.
It is not you job!
FACT: This is also a hate crime!
As for me and what I do:
TC has no Facebook account – no matter how convincing you think someone is with so-called facts about him.
Stalkers are negative and also say negative things – being a fan who may or may not be obsessed is notthe same as being a stalker.
Remember, a stalker is a criminal – he or she does NEGATIVE things to possess or own someone, control the other person.
What this article was sparked by is, recently:
I have a bully and stalker – it is one person who I met through theatre – and recently [January 2012] ended the friendship because he posted negative things, and gave out personal info about my life on Facebook . . . with my full name attached!
I have been slandered, victimized, attacked and accused of things I have never done, a) vilified for living my life in a way I choose, b) continually being contacted by him [my stalker/bully] when 1) he asked me to cease contact with him [after I had told him off in a few private emails] and 2) I had stopped contacting him after he asked me not to.
From the end of January 2012 until about the end of April 2012 . . . I had not responded to his incessant, harassing and bullying emails. I have blocked him from several email accounts and then, in a month or two, he creates a new account (with a fake name) and contacts me again – with some negative response to something I posted on Facebook!
Yes, he is blocked on my Facebook . . . yet, somehow, via a fake name and Facebook account, is continuing to read my status updates, etc. And no, I won’t go private or change my Facebook accounts! It is unfair.
I should not have to hide from some fool; who has too much time on his hands and feels a need to harass me or verbally attack me about my life and my choices.
I unfriended and blocked him because my life so offends him. So, why does he need, or want to keep in touch with me. It makes no logical sense.
And there’s my point. There are mentally ill people out there. Unfortunately, because I spent five-minutes to be kind to him – when he was Stage Manager of a play I was cast in [once again, without an audition]. He took my good manners to mean we were close friends. We weren’t. I never felt any sort a rapport with this guy – let’s call him PT – he is, admittedly, very weird and cruel. He is not that type of guy who should use that sort of humor — sarcasm. At least, not the type he uses. Cruel, vicious verbal attacks on people . . . for things like begin fat, short or not as educated.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a good wit. I can throw out the sarcasm along with the best of them. Nevertheless, I won’t put down a person about weight, or a flaw they cannot help. Unless they attack me first.
Yet, this guy – PT – would, publicly, on my Facebook wall, say that I was fat and lazy. Yes, it’s true I am fat. Lazy, no. And yet, he was claiming to be a friend. He became offended when I wouldn’t take jobs such as caring for an elderly man in another state! A job I do not qualify for – bad back, bad knees (that’s me) – and PT thinks I should just commute four days per week on a bus; be ready to lift, walk and give injections, change bed pans, etc. for an elderly man because he gave me the lead!
PT never bothered to ask for my office resume. The one that shows my twenty-years of being an Administrative Assistant and Legal Secretary, light Bookkeeper for financial companies, CEO’s and high-class lawyers! I’m no LPN or home care giver!
There’s an old saying: Until you have walked a mile in my shoes, do not judge me.
To ask for help – especially in a social network – in a way where you are willing to trade; i.e. I will give you a free reading for help with my rent. That is not PANHANDLING. That is NOT be lazy.
>> Yes, many people have some sense of pride, that it lowers them to ask for help when needed. I know people who have not asked for help. I have nice memories of those people when I visit their graves, too. For years, I ignored pain (as a teen and young adult) associated with my abdomen, because “no one likes a complainer”. And guess what? I nearly died at the age of 20-years-old because my ovarian cyst (of which I was unaware of having) ruptured and shot poison throughout my organs.
I learned then and there – if you need help ask.
Other times, when I tell people about the years I was homeless, ask me, “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve helped you.”
Friends get angry when they find out you didn’t reach out and ask for help. People want to help. At least, real friends do. I feel the same way. Ask! Even if, at the time, I cannot help you – I will 1) try to find you help, 2) help when and where I can and 3) encourage you through the hard times (giving what I can in that sense).
If you don’t ask, I don’t always know. They pride goeth before a fall! And I have seen, first-hand, pride kill people. Yes, kill them. To not complain (or tell/ask someone) about pain for months or years, strange menstrual cycles or difficulties living in safe places – or the money to visit a doctor, pay rent or electric or get medication – can kill you.
Of course, do not start sending me notes about what I can give you. I am still living paycheck to paycheck and haven’t quite got my first million yet. When I do . . . we’ll chat!
And as for my stalker/bully – When I started my job, about five weeks ago, I saw his Facebook page [via my contacts] and he had SHARED my status from my Facebook page and posted, about me now working fulltime, “I don’t believe it!”
>> Good! I told PT to stay out of my life. So far, since then, he has . . .
Which reminds me:
You’re a stalker if:
You turn a person’s words around and make it about them. It’s downright psychotic!
>> When I did respond to PT: I stated that I wished he’d just “go away” and frustrated at his continual abuse of me in email, I said: “I hope you die.” He turned that into me “threatening to kill” him! Which I did not, in any way, say; I said “I wish you were dead.” And wishing him to die is not threatening to make it happen.
>> First, I don’t want to jail for his ugly ass.
>> I am not a criminal in any way.
I may be a bitch and a lot of other dirty names. I am not a criminal, a stalker, a killer nor as crazy as many like to say. I’m angry, at times . . . I’m frustrated, at times . . . I’m independent, all the time . . . I can be cruel and cold, when pushed and it is needed. And only to those who treat me badly.
Let’s get the facts:
No, it wasn’t nice to say – yet, I do not take it back. I do wish he’d go away forever; at least, from my life. And from his history with me in these past few months, the only way – he’d have to be dead.
I did NOT say I wanted any part of his death. I just hope it happens. Sometimes with crazy stalkers you have to be blunt and very, very cruel. That seems the only time they actually “hear” your words, I find.
I told him, several hundred times, “leave me alone” and he doesn’t. So, obviously, he ignores those clear words I have to be blunt.
To “hope” someone dies [i.e. I wish all the terrorists would die – without taking any of us – too, I might add] is not saying you want any part of their death. I did not say murder, or by my hand or even that it has to be violent.
In fact, again, my hope, really, is to NEVER HEAR FROM HIM OR ABOUT HIM AGAIN. I do not need to know if he is alive or dead. Prosperous or poor. Good or bad. I just want him gone – from my email, my life in every way, forever.
In the final analysis, and facts about me:
I am a great friend to have.
I feel the homeless who sing, write poetry or offer to do something for your change are NOT panhandling. They are exchanging talents for pay; and if someone would pay them for it, they’d do it in better clothing or atmosphere.
If you make me an enemy, the worst that can happen: I feel nothing for you and if you bother me, I will say cruel things.
I adore Tim Curry and would not hurt him in any way. In fact, I admire him greatly, and if he said to me – himself – to go away, I would [go away] with no anger; only hurt. I’d cry and move on with my life.
I am not lazy. I work very hard. [Right now, three jobs!]
In the final thought, regarding PT – the one who stalks/bully’s me:
>> I have no feelings for him, it is indifference. Thus, I really don’t care if he lives, dies or a thousand purple monkeys’ fly out of his ass.
Onward to better things. . .
Life is going well.
I have three great jobs!
Money flows and flows!
I am now able to pay some bills, travel and enjoy my summer more!
DISCLAIMER: Yesterday, when I originally posted this story — from the pages of my memories, and my drawings, from some 30-something years of keeping to myself. Well, I contacted Mr. Patz so that if any of the information I picked up years ago would be of interest or ring some sort of bell; I just wanted him to know. This was not wise. I offended him. And I, in no way, wish to add to the pain of the Patz family. They have been living with this tragedy for 30-something years.
Thus, first, my public apology for contacting Mr. Patz. I really should have left him to his privacy. And apologies for anything I published or said that has and/or will offend you.
Mr. Patz (Stan) contacted me, same day, and said he preferred I take down the whole article; and corrected me on information (from my cloudy memory) which I quoted incorrectly.
I wrote him back to let him know, I’d like to keep the article posted and remove the parts that offended him most — the YouTube links bothered him [and I understand why — they have sales ads] and me misquoting him, also understandable.
Mr. Patz informed me there has never been a lead, reference or even a thought of Etan being in Syracuse, NY. So, there you have it — it is just my dreams, impressions that picked up Syracuse.
As a psychic, this case, which happened when I was just a teen [living my high school life far away – Phoenix, AZ], really developed my psychic crime-solving gift. I have only told a few friends about my early images of how Etan Patz was killed, his age at his death and where his body might be.
In those years, I had never been in New York City – my first time would be 1984 – this case moved me. Soon after it was public, I had dreams of being in a car, with other children, on the West Side Highway [at that time I didn’t know it was the West Side Highway, either]. I just dreamt of being on a semi-circular roadway looking through a window at a big city…surrounded by water and bridges. Although, I am not sure it is related to Etan Patz.
One night, all those years ago around 1981 (the year I graduating high school), I had a dream [this was also more recognition of my medium gifts]:
In my dream, I found myself sitting on a ratty old couch in a messy old single room apartment. Sitting beside where about four to six children, boys and girls. When I “awoke” in this drab, dirty room I immediately stood up to face all these children – ages 6 to 12 – and asked them who they were and why they were here. All of them were very silent and had the large hungry eyes of starving children in Third World countries. Their clothes were tattered and their demeanor that of abused children – no tears, just large, sad eyes. Not one of them spoke.
I kept questioning, wondering why no one would answer me. Then, one of them, about 8-years-old, sitting between the other children was familiar to my eyes.
“You’re Etan Patz!”
The boy nodded that he was, indeed, Etan.
I looked at the other children and it came to me, “Oh my God, you’re all dead, aren’t you?”
The children nodded.
For whatever reason, they were unable to speak to me out loud. I found they could hear my questions in their mind and would answer with their yes and no head nods.
I looked at Etan and said, “This is where you all are? This apartment?”
Etan gave me the affirmative.
“Can you tell me where ‘this apartment’ is located?”
Etan stood up and walked to the front door. Right beside the door was a light switch. Etan pointed to it and it turned into a moving, virtual reality map – similar to today’s touch screen computers [this was 1981, though] – and I could see maps moving quickly until it landed on New York. Etan pointed at a name on the map. I expected New York City, but it was different.
Etan pointed harder at the name on the map, which I had trouble reading: I didn’t know New York names and places well, at that time, at least. I saw the word Sycamore. Etan disagreed with his head nod.
I asked him, “It sounds like Sycamore, right?”
He seemed disappointed, it was the only way I could read the word,at that time.
“Etan, is your body in this apartment? I want to tell your parents.”
Etan told me no . . . with his head. And again pointed on the light switch. The picture went from the map of this place I was calling Sycamore, NY – like a film. I saw two brick buildings, white, a few stories high, side by side, same size, same look. In front of it were some fields of grass/dirt and one tree [perhaps, a sycamore tree?].
Etan pointed to about the third story window, to show me where this apartment was from the outside of the building. Then, for where his body was, he pointed to the field area, very near the one tree.
I asked him how old he was when he was killed. He was 8-years-old, although he disappeared at age 6. I picked up more information telepathically from Etan and the other children.
The man who killed them lived in the building in which they were [in my dream]. Etan confirmed [in my dream]:
Etan was familiar with the man when he intercepted him in New York.
The man abused boys, mostly, yet would hurt girls, too.
I promised to remember the information given when I woke up – I had realized it was a dream.
So, when I woke up, I asked Etan Patz to draw through my hands about all the information.
I have had these drawings for years and was always scared to share it with anyone:
I was a teenager and who would believe me
It would be awful if law enforcement dug up a campus and found nothing just based on my impressions
I would be accused of being an opportunist.
Yesterday, number three happened. Etan’s father thought I was just seeking instant fame and/or God knows what. I’m not, at least, not about this situation. If my impressions can find Etan Patz, fine. And if my impressions do lead to him, I don’t care if they ever say my name or not. As for money, I don’t ask for money for missing children cases; nevertheless, if a reward or business compensation [where businesses are involved] is offered, I would accept monetary compensation should my impressions directly lead to the recovery of a child and/or solving a crime.
>> Yes, I am in the Psychic/Medium business, as well. Since I cannot take on every case, I will help when and where I can [with missing children only]. As I did for the Maine Police Department in finding a missing child (deceased). My name was never mentioned, I never visited Maine or Canada (where I told them they’d find the missing child — and they did), and I have not received one bit of money from that case. <<
Still, this is NOT my goal or purpose in posting or sharing my findings [financial gain or fame — although, I am, with my blog, advertising my gifts for profit]. I am sharing these [drawing and insights] for FREE so a missing child can come home and/or a crime can be solved.
Thus, I kept them [the drawings, psychic impressions & dreams] all these years and now it’s time, with a place (my blog) for me to finally share them.
THE DRAWINGS: They are drawn from a child’s hand, Etan Patz, as I, basically, in 1981, channeled him to draw them for me. I have found, since I have actually helped in a couple of cases with the police in recent years, I can draw pictures based on what I pick up from dead children.
BACK TO THE STORY: Years later, when I moved to New York to attend college (1984) – I learned my mistake with Sycamore. Because I hadn’t heard of it, a friend whom I showed him the drawings, told me it is in Syracuse, NY.
The information from my friend:
It is the college campus and the buildings were part of the college there.
The room I described, he told me, was what the dorm rooms look like inside.
The building was where the staff would live.
The field has since been built-up and I didn’t hear of them finding bodies or remains.
Although, Etan told me he is buried near this building(s).
My friend told me that these buildings, the original college buildings, were torn down.
It wasn’t the case, though, in 1981, when I drew these pictures.
If these impressions and drawings help solve the crime, I would be glad to work, even anonymously, with anyone out there working on the case.
Coming up, in another blog postings, my drawings from the Jon Benet Ramsey case and the recent case of Lauren Spierer (which I should post next so they can, possibly, find her).
I did contact AMW.com and they informed me they do not take psychic impressions on cases.
Train tracks which bisect the city are two blocks from the dorms.
Even though this is a house, it is sort of how I saw the building(s) in my dream. This photograph and the above caption was taken in Syracuse, NY.
The other photo, from Syracuse, NY (near the dorms) is a pretty good image of the field I saw where the children are buried [should my dream have any truth in it]. I saw only one tree and remember, my dream took place in 1981.
If I see one more talk show [i.e. Dr. Phil] that features a woman falling victim to some man on a dating site – losing her heart or her cash or both – and that woman says, “Any woman would’ve fallen for that/him, etc. . . .”
I’m going to book a flight to the city, ask the show to find this woman and I’m going to smack her in the face, telling her, “Speak for yourself, freak!”
No, I don’t condone violence. But, foolish women, STOP SPEAKING FOR ME. No, I would not fall for that, or him! I don’t believe most of the men I meet in person who wax poetic on my ass, or my face, for that matter.
And why is it always a woman like me – overweight, middle-aged and single?
Wait, I can answer that one, at least, part of it. Why these scam artists choose . . . them (us). They’ve [scam artists] emailed me, private messaged me on Facebook, contacted me on dating sites.
Difference is, I give women like myself a good name. I don’t fall for it! Why are you?! You’re making us look stupid.
Of course, maybe many woman of my description are stupid, or lack confidence, and want to believe every manufactured word some random stranger – claiming to be an eligible male – utters in an email, text, Facebook, twitter or on the phone.
Sorry, I don’t believe in love at first text, email or even love at first sight. Never have. Never will. Let me explain that I know “attraction at first sight” or “lust at first sight” certainly does exist and is alive and present. Nevertheless, love? Love is precious, it must build. It may be with someone you’re immediately attracted to, also. Still, as Dr. Phil states, wisely: Don’t marry him or her until you’ve seen them with the flu. [Although, since I take a flu shot every year, this may not apply for me.]
Do I know what true love is? I will say I do. I heard it somewhere, felt it many times and still have it for each and every man I’ve dated and/or loved.
True love – I do not remember where I read it or heard it – is “wanting the other person’s good.” Unconditional. Even if the other person’s good is to NOT be with you. If you truly love someone you would want them to be happy in their life, with or without you. Thank you, Bono!
Romantic love, on the other hand is very “conditional”. You want that person with you, and only you. You want only that person. You call him or her your soulmate, your other half. You feel your life will never be complete without him or her in your very life, your grip. Conditional. Fun, yes! Wonderful, yes – if she or he reciprocates that love. Miserable — if they do not or cannot.
No way can that conditional type of love be proven by a voice on the phone of someone you’ve never laid eyes on; not in real life, at least. What is their body language when in a room with you? Does their very smell turn you on, or off? You cannot know unless you have met in person!
Yes, there have been stories of romance found on the internet.
Yet, if someone contacts you, in New York, and says he’s from New Jersey, but doing his engineering work in Nepal [this type approached me on email once] – with no specific return date; no banks in sight; wants to spend his life with you; thinks you’re the most gorgeous woman in the world (even though you’ve never met in person) . . . RUN AWAY! This is a scam artist, a fake and you are one of many they find on dating sites!
This person contacting you, with all the pretty words, is married or living with someone, or a woman (and you think it’s a man), or a horny teenager who can write maturely.
American Ladies: No matter how lonely you are – no matter how sure you are that no man in your area of the world is going to treat you well . . . stop making us the laughing-stock of the scam world, as these scam artists count the money you send them for their airplane tickets (to meet you) or start your life together! It’s a lie! A con!
Learn the difference between being alone and loneliness. You are complete, as you are. A man should ADD to your already incredible life – not make it happy [It should already be happy]. It’s not his job! It’s the best job, the most rewarding, to find your own happiness. You have complete control of this.
The control is your thoughts, your feelings. You don’t have to blame anyone, nor yourself. Just change your mind.
Clicking on my photos often leads to links.
A habit is a thought you think over and over again. It doesn’t make it true. Yet, we believe it’s true, because we think it over and over. Step one is to note your negative thoughts:
Thought one: No man will love me because I’m fat.Now ask yourself, logically: Is this true?Answer: NO, many fat women have husbands, lovers, lives, and joy.
Thought two: There no love after 40.Question: Is this true?Answer: Of course not! People fall in love into their 90s! [FACT: A constant problem in most old age homes is keeping the men and women from having sex, or trying to, at least!]
Also, you attract to yourself what you believe about yourself. You can find a man, once you realize, you don’t truly need one to be fulfilled in life. In fact, most people find the very thing you want (be it a man, a job) etc., comes when you realize and recognize you are happy as you are, at this very moment.
Find the things, people to appreciate right now. Start with what you appreciate about YOU.
Not saying I’m perfect, either. We’re all a work in progress and no one reaches perfection. Nevertheless, I appreciate my body because it is functioning. I can walk, I can type, I can use all my limbs and even though I’m plump – for the most part, I’m pretty damn healthy!
As for my love life – it’s a little boring. I was masturbating awhile back and my hand fell asleep! Still, I have my hands for that and many other purposes, even if it [my hand] or they [other limbs] fall asleep once in a while. I have them!
For those men out there, now madly in love with me – and I am an incredible girlfriend [I must admit] – you must live here [New York] or be wealthy enough, at my beck and call – to get on a plane [first class] and meet me at Starbucks in Chelsea at 4:00 pm next Thursday for our first half hour date.
If that goes well, we will arrange for a dinner date the next couple of days or the next week.
Then, and only then, after some in-person dates/discussions – we will see if I’m willing to do a long-distance dating thing, temporarily! We can then talk about texting, emailing, facebooking, etc.
Still, I like my men LIVE FROM NEW YORK CITY! At least, while I still live here.
Here’s an article and what the scam artists feel about us!
Click on the photos for the actual website and article.
DISCLAIMER: These are my experiences, shared by me, as they happened to me. People in these true event(s), may not remember them in the same way. Certain facts can be agreed upon by all parties, nevertheless. I met Tim Curry, in New York, on August 28, 1987. Beyond that, I do not, in any way, suggest, hold or express that anyone else experienced this event in any paranormal, psychic or unusual way. That is how my experience of the event(s) happened, though.
YOU MUST BE HIS DAUGHTER
By Angela Theresa Egic
It was getting very near the time I would finally meet the man!
I saw signs where everywhere.Many were almost too literal.
Everywhere I went I could feel Tim near me, around me. I would ‘just know’ he was in New York.
A day or two later, I’d read in the gossip column that Tim Curry was seen in New York, on the very day I thought he was nearby!
This feeling of knowing Tim was nearby began when Clue was released. I had missed TC by one day. I went to the theater the day before the movie opened to the public; they had the premiere (for the actors) the day before that, nevertheless.
I was getting closer to meeting the man, though, admittedly.
My life was about to be forever changed, though:
A little overview:
On September 28, 1984: I turned 21-years-old. I had barely survived anorexia, had a boyfriend away in college in somewhere near Flagstaff, AZ; was living with Mom & Dad in Phoenix, AZ. Before the anorexia got the best of me, I had applied for and auditioned for NY’s American Academy of Dramatic Arts. The audition was held right there in Phoenix.
October 4, 1984: I took my first airplane ride and arrived in New York City, for the first time in my life. Had a job at Macy’s in three days and began school at AADA.
In about 1985: I left AADA and moved to Brooklyn with my friend, Betsy.
One day, I called home to Phoenix. My father answered the phone. He was not the most observant or demonstrative man.
I said, “Hey Dad, remember me?”
My father grumbled, as usual, “Of course, Little One [he always called me this]!”
Absent-mindedly, I replied, “So, no one is home?”
My father, a man of 71-years-old [17 years my mother’s senior], was not terribly reliable about taking messages.Thus, if he was there and answered the phone, he’d surely forget I had called by the time Mom returned from her errands.
Dad, rather defensively, told me, “I’m home, I’m somebody!”
Laughing, “Oh, I know, Daddy. I didn’t mean it that way.”
Then he really shocked me, “Youknow, I saw that actor you like on television. Is he British? Tim …something?”
I was pleasantly surprised that my rather aloof father would even notice my obsessions, especially from three thousand miles away!
Excited and happy, I asked him, “You mean, Tim Curry?”
“Yes, he was on TV. I like him! Have you met him yet?”
I told Daddy that I hadn’t, but hoped to someday. Dad gave me his blessing. That was a lot for my father and made me happy.
Late 1986: My father had cancer surgery, went into a coma and was declared dead. My mother and I, after five neurosurgeons reported he was brain-dead, opted to turn off life support.
My father breathed on his own for three months, then passed away, in Arizona, on February 4, 1987. The same day Liberace passed on. My father’s spirit came to me, all the way in NY, the night he passed and he told me goodbye.
Right before my father passed, my Uncle Curly, Mom’s brother, [the uncle that Tim Curry resembled in Clue. Yikes!], passed away. After my father, my Mom’s sister, Aunt Mary Margaret, passed on.My poor mother lost her brother, her husband and her sister all within a few months of each other. Rough year.
In New York, my Rocky Horror Picture Show midnight friends/cast and I were still going strong, doing our shadowcast show in Brooklyn each Saturday. Wecalled ourselves The Low Down Cheap Little Punks. I played Frank N. Furter and getting great reviews.
Our friend in the cast, Susie “Squeaky” Schwartzberg, 19-years-old, was, like my father, battling cancer – amalignant tumor under her eye.
While I sought my meeting with TC, Susie and her family were trying to contact her obsession; Christopher “Superman” Reeves. [This was before his tragic accident.]
I had seen a psychic at a psychic fair (duh) and the minute I brought up TC– she said “Yes, you will see him soon!”
I didn’t even tell her his last name. When I did tell her — she had never heard of him!
As the reading went on, she said I’d meet him at a place with the initials MM – my first thought was the Mid-Manhattan Library. I worked near it and Tim is known for his keen interest in literature.
I, naturally, spent a lot more time at the Mid-Manhattan Library. I spent some time there, anyway, as I love books, too.
In the meantime, I listened in my head and my body for that vibration that let me know, rather accurately, when TC was nearby.
The psychic also said, “TC is just a breath away, just turn around and he will be there.”
I was walking my regular route home from work, towards Times Square, and my usual hang-out, The Marriott Marquis. Wait one minute! Hitting me, like a ton of bricks. I hung out at the Marriott Marquis, a lot – that has the initials MM!
I became aware of TC being nearby, just then, and remembered “just a breath away, turn around and he will be there.”
At a ‘Don’t Walk’ signal, I turned around slowly.
There! In bright red letters:
CURRY IN A HURRY
When did that restaurant get there? I walk here every day and have never seen this restaurant, and there it was!
Nearly out loud, I talked to TC telepathically, “Very funny! If I am going to meet you, tell me when, please!”
The numbers 23 and 24 came into my head. This was June or July 1987.
I almost instantly understood: I will meet TC while I am still 23-years-old and nearly 24.
My 24th birthday was coming up, too, September 28th, 1987.
At the Times Square area, I was passing 1515 Broadway on the corner of 44th, a block before the Marriott Marquis [the Broadway show Me & My Girl was playing at the Marriott Marquis Theater].
Inside the big glass windows of 1515 Broadway, you can see the escalators to what I believed to be a movie theater.
I was still feeling TC in the area and wanted to test my intuition, see if I could actually track him down this time! As I stepped in front of those glass doors this very overwhelming thought to go up the stairs made me stop and stare at the plate-glass doors of 1515 Broadway.
I argued, in my silent voice, with this thought. I figured it was from TC. “But, Tim, I don’t want to go to a movie!”
The thought was even stronger, almost pulling me to the entrance turnstile doors. The number three (3) invaded my thoughts as well – theater number three? After about twenty minutes, I forced myself to walk away and go home, without ever following my gut feeling to enter 1515 Broadway and head to Theater 3.
At home, my TC picture fell off my desk. I cried out, “I just need to meet him!”
I talked to my father, my God and TC in my prayers. I asked God and Daddy to help me meet Tim. And I asked Tim, since I didn’t understand these signs, to show me, in my dreams, where he is exactly!
I cried myself to sleep with these thoughts and prayers — to meet the only person I had ever felt such an intense spiritual connection to. I no longer believed it was just attraction.
TC reminded me of something deep in my soul . . . a soul mate, yes, but more than that! A long-lost love, friend, brother, father, a voice in my very soul, a guide, a comfort and the spirit which accompanied me through lifetime after lifetime in so many ways. Crazy maybe, certainly it couldn’t hurt to meet him, to befriend him or to date him.
Now, this story really begins much earlier. In fact, it is sort of full circle, or nearly full circle.
My history and story with musicals; in this case, RENT (the musical), and the cast of the original Broadway musical.
Years ago, when RENT was a workshop and there was a casting call . . . in the late 80s. I recall reading and/or hearing about the audition here in New York.
At that time, I was a skinny (anorexic thin, actually), aspiring stage star. I graduated from the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. Regularly performing as ‘Frank N. Furter’ with my Rocky Horror Picture Show shadowcast in Brooklyn; attending auditions I would find in the Backstage newspaper.
I’m sure I blew off the auditions for RENT. Only thing I remember from the time(s) was thinking, “A musical about paying rent? Clever!” And having read the breakdown, perhaps, at that time, I would’ve only fit the role of Maureen. I know, in those days, even though I was in my early to mid 20s, I was still being cast as 16 to 19-year-olds [I looked really young]. It made me a good age for ‘Mimi’ . . . certainly I was skinny enough, but, I am as white as the driven snow. The only thing about me that is even remotely hispanic would be brown eyes!
God knows, as a teen and into my early 20s, I dreamt of wearing “Max Factor’s TV #4” make-up to help me be a candidate to play ‘Maria’ in WEST SIDE STORY!
Strangely, I remember someone, who was a lot like the real-life version of ‘Angel’, a good friend–at the time.
He/She called himself ‘Miss Andrew’ . . . was one of my best friends . . . in my shadowcast [as ‘Columbia’]. I remember, early in our friendship, Miss Andrew said to me, “You’d be great as Mimi in that new musical, RENT.”
Miss Andrew knows his stuff, as far as theatre goes … thus, it must’ve been very early on in the developing of RENT: Andrew wouldn’t expect red-headed/white me to play a hispanic girl, even then, when I was skinny enough to play a drug addict with AIDS.
To complete the circle . . . to this day: I swear that Jonathan Larson, previous to writing RENT, must’ve been hanging out with all of us at “8th Street Playhouse’ and ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW in the 80s. It would be years and years before I actually saw RENT; still, I feel like I knew every character in one way or another. They were me and my buddies at RHPS, etc. We lost many, early on, to AIDS, too; others still living today with it on inhibitors, etc., etc.
I dated quite a few guys who were either, filmmakers ala’ ‘Mark’ and many musicians, ‘Roger’. And like ‘Maureen’, I experimented a bit. Not quite to the point the character did — as I never had a full-fledged affair with a woman. A couple of make-out sessions above the waist was as far as my lesbian experiences went, in my early 20s.
Otherwise, to this day, I generally date 1) gay men, 2) commitment-phobic men or 3) possessive men. If I date at all. It’s been awhile! Another story for another time!
1984_Nick Atonna & I
I digress … In 1993-1997, years later, I was highly involved with Manhattan’s 13th Street Repertory Theatre. During a production of Tobin James Mueller’s musical, Frankenspell, I dated a bit. One guy, whom I had one date with only, was Simcha Borenstein. It was just dinner, thus, really, not a date — it was either his birthday or mine; we were friends and not too interested in each other romantically. Anyway, I think it was his birthday and I didn’t want him to celebrate alone … he was sort of shy, or seemingly so. Thus, we had dinner.
At that time, we talked a lot about theatre, etc. and have kept in touch, a bit, since that time (facebook). Simcha is married now and like me, still does theatre. Anyway, about four years ago (2006 or thereabouts), had dinner with him and his wife. Simcha is close friends with Anthony Rapp!!! They went to school together!
1996_Simcha & I
In 2007, I finally saw RENT on Broadway and fell in love, becoming a big Renthead. I also saw WICKED. Although, I had fallen in love with the Original Broadway recording of WICKED and had a mad lust/love and respect for Idina Menzel and Kristen Chenoweth. In fact, I still do!!! I’d go gay for Idina Menzel [really, it’s a joke! Maybe . . .].
Time passes again, I hear Anthony Rapp and Adam Pascal [I’d do anything for him!] are coming back to Broadway in the show. On their last Broadway performance, a few days before, desperate to see them perform, I go to Craigslist and find one ticket for sale — face value!!! The girl cannot go due to a job conflict.
In the meantime, this is 2008 . . . my roommate tells me that she is friends with Adam Pascal. They worked on a film together called GOYBAND. More small world coincidence. At the Broadway Flea Market earlier that year — I met Anthony and we spoke about Simcha, out mutual friend.
So, I go to the show, and despite crowds in the 1000s (it seemed), I get near enough to Adam to yell out, “Georgie [sic: my roommate from GOYBAND] says ‘hey’, Adam!”
Adam looks up, all sweet and wonderful, and says to me.
“Oh, send her my love and a big kiss!”
Unfortunately, I couldn’t get to him, close enough to get that kiss for her!
Then, later in 2008, I move to Hollywood, California for eight months, right? I join a meet-up group. The organizer of our “law of attraction” Beverly Hills, CA meet-up group, Marc, I learn…plays tennis regularly with . . . TAYE DIGGS!!! Idina Menzel’s husband!!! Unfortunately, Marc never introduced me to Taye and Idina. Still, closer than ever.
Wilson Jermaine Heredia
And then, just this last October . . . back in New York since November 2008: I go to the Broadway Flea Market and win free tickets to an Off Broadway play called TALES FROM THE TUNNEL. I meet the director at the flea market.On October 2nd, 2010, my good friend Jordan Auslander, another friend, Joseph and I go to see this play. I am in awe, happy and thrilled to see “Wilson Jermaine Heredia” as one of the ensemble cast!!! Wow! Full circle!And earlier that day, I was jamming to my iPod and listening to ‘I’ll Cover You’ from the film, RENT!After the show, a few of us were hanging around [bathroom etc.] inside the theatre. I went over to greet the actors and hoping to say hey to Wilson. And out he comes from backstage!”Wilson, I was listening to you today! Small world!”
Wilson smiles, “Thank you!” as he gives me the tightest, best hug ever!!!
It caught me a little off-guard, in a great way, as I didn’t expect him to be so down-to-earth and friendly! He held really tight and wow — he has a great body [Wilson obviously works out]! Also, we must remember, I have a thing for hispanic men. So, I was in heaven!!
As we came out of the hug, he started to introduce himself and went to shake my hand.
“Thank you for coming, I’m Wilson Jermaine . . . “
I had to cut him off, “I know who you are! Remember, I was listening to you today?” As I introduced myself, “Hello, I’m Angela Theresa Collins. I won tickets at the Broadway Flea Market.”
Then, of course, he was off . . .
I was sort of overly excited and forgot to ask for a photograph together. At least, a cell phone shot. Still, I had a great experience!
Hmmm, I wonder if Wilson dates older women? Wilson, how about it?! I’d be a cougar for him, most definitely.
That night, I looked him up on facebook and found him; only later to learn it was an imposter. Nevertheless, I finally found the real one — a day or two later. He’s really down-to-earth and talented and even plays a little accordion!!! LOL!
Oh yeah, I also saw Jesse L. Martin live at the 25th Anniversary of Rocky Horror Picture Show in Las Vegas, NV. And I’ve tweeted to Tracie Thoms on twitter; although she has yet to respond! 😉
Life really is good! Soon, I’ll do another piece on all my favorite celebrities I’ve met or communicated with . . . most recently, had a short tweet from Betty Buckley! It was the night of the eclipse. My 2nd or 3rd tweet from her; after I responded to her.
DISCLAIMER: This is a rant to get this off my chest and let go of anger and move to a “better feeling” and release the stress, anger and make my point. Which, when making my point, I feel better!
Why is it I attract nut cases to my life?
Yes, I do know I’m a bit crazy, too; nevertheless, I have to suffer fools (crazy people)? Really, Universe?! Why????!!!!
It was a really long day, as is any day I work … And I had a great day at work. On my third tour I had $55.00 in tips!!! I do have to split it with the driver, which is fine — still, the biggest day in a while.
After work, being rather hot and sweaty, I headed to the Village. I went to my favorite little place on 8th Street — BBQ. I had my other favorite meal, the chicken caesar wrap.
Then, off to the theatre to do volunteer hours. I was really very tired. For a few minutes I napped on the couch in the theatre.
A little later, started doing my volunteer work around the theatre and, as usual, got on facebook. One of my friends, I’ll use only initials for her, JB, has been bothering me for a few days about a theatre project.
You see, we’re having auditions for a festival at my regular theatre. Each week is a different set of plays. Actors can come to the theatre and read the plays and if they see a role they can fill, they can use our sign-up sheets to set an audition time. There’s a sign-up sheet each week for four weeks. We are in week two this week.
But, for the sake of this story, let me go back way far: I met JB when we were teenagers. Back in those days, I felt she was a snob (and she was). Although, I knew her, I never really hung out with her, except we were in a performing arts group together. After I moved away, as a young woman, I never really kept in touch with JB.
Years and years later, many, we were both in our 40s, we met again, here in New York. I didn’t find her quite as snobby as she was as a teen. In fact, she was sort of fun … a little crazy; but aren’t we all? I didn’t know the half of it, though.
In those years she had become a psychologist and sort of stepped away from the acting thing. When we met again, she was married and wanted to start doing some acting once again; and singing. She asked me to do some photos for her.
JB then signed up to act at a venue’ I was involved in. The day of this production, JB’s brother died in a tragic accident. She joined up at the next production, still grieving and on the verge of divorce. She changed into a direction that was rather wild. JB begin to party a lot, drinking and dating lots of different men. Of course, that’s fine as she is an adult. And her personality became even more wild and theatrical.
I can be a drama queen, too … theatrical. Stop laughing! My personality, like JBs, is very, very animated, most of the time. Nevertheless, even I was, often, quite taken aback by some of her actions. Many of her theatricality’s were “too much” and make many people at the theatre hesitant to spend too much time with her.
During the production she was involved in, JB started a friendship with a long-time friend of mine, whom I’ll call Joshua (pseudo name). Joshua and JB hit it off and started a friendship — just a friendship where’d they tease each other (playfully) at the theatre and had a drink or two one night after the show. Again, though, nothing serious. JB somehow assumed she and Joshua were in some sort of relationship.
At the theatre, where we all hung out and did show — JB started making very snide comments about and to JB when he didn’t agree with her definitionof their friendship. She’d cry into her drinks at the bar about how Joshua cheated her, lied to her and would tell it to anyone (from the theatre) who would listen. JB told me I should end my friendship with Joshua, if I was her true friend.
Many things happened in the interim and I didn’t like anyone telling me who my friends should and shouldn’t be. But, I took JB with a grain of salt and walked on eggshells to not talk to her too much about my continuing friendship with Joshua.
I ended up moving to California for a while. Upon my return, JB did save my life and gave me a temporary place to stay with her in her apartment. While I was there, despite how much it bothered me; JB smoked all night playing on her PlayStation and her weight, which was always too high, went up. JB was working on her PhD in psychology and, at the very least, was dating one guy regularly. But, still morbidly obese and saying crazier and crazier things, about Joshua, life and always having the trait which I hated most: JB diagnosed people all the time, without permission or without knowing them well. Particularly, Joshua — still going on about how he is bipolar or passive/aggressive or whatever.
Again, I tried to just take her with a grain of salt and not tell her too much. I hate people to diagnose me or anyone else! If they are not treating me, they shouldn’t be diagnosing me!
To jump to why, as of Thursday, July 22nd, 2010, I am no longer in a friendship with J.B. Here are the incidents, in order, that finally broke the last straw.
During a production, maybe last year, JB was cast, with another actress, in a production. In fact, she was cast in two, as was I. Her 2nd production was written by Joshua. At first, JB and Joshua tried to make nice and act professionally. Then, during performance, Joshua said something to JB before the show. JB took offense to it. So, backstage, right before her first production, which was not written by Joshua — she announces “I’m only doing this one and then I’m going home!” This attitude left the other actress, in her 2nd scene, no performance that night. And the poor actress had her family and friends in the audience to see her perform. JB said, as the girl told her “You are ruining my night!” JB had the nerve to say, “Joshua insulted me and I’m sorry, but I have to do this. I don’t care.”
Fortunately, JB did the 2nd show … and the other actress was able to get on stage that evening.
JB, who cares so much for being professional, was willing to hurt another actress over her need for an apology! I said to myself, only (to myself), then and there . . . as did most of the other directors who heard about it . . . I will never cast her in anything!
A few weeks ago, I broke that promise and offered a role in my “reading”. Thus, it really wasn’t a production. So, get this, a day before the reading, when I sent the script to all the actors, JB calls me and starts with something like, “I know we’re friends. I have to get this off my chest...” She went to tell me how dare I cast her in the only ‘character’ role when I advocate that plus-size women can play any role. JB wanted me to give her the lead, which is supposed to be a 28-year-old. JB is in her 40s! And I wrote the lead role for myself and even I cannot play it now. JB went on to tell me how she injured her back and could barely walk.
I was just through with all that and simply asked her, “Do you want to do the reading or not?” She did and said she just needed to get it off her chest. I was reminded, by that call, why I don’t want to ever work with her. I knew that would be the last time I would ask her to read for me.
Also, for months now, when she calls me, I don’t pick up my phone. Let me tell you why. JB loves to call me, at all hours, and when I answer she either 1) wants to tell me, in detail, about the man she had sex with that night, 2) how someone, like her mother or a friend, did something awful to her or 3) how she is having trouble at school and if it doesn’t work out she’s going to kill herself. J.B. often goes on telling exactly how she will kill herself . . . details about what medication she will take and how her mother will have to deal with both her children being dead. JB will cry hysterically on the phone, for hours, to me about these things!
I talk her down, in the sense, saying things like “you really want to die?” And she generally says, “Yes, you don’t understand...” and it will go on until she calms down. Thus, because it is taxing being her friend, having to walk on eggshells so she won’t diagnose me . . . or listening to her sexual conquests . . . or how the world is against her . . . or how she is going to off herself . . . I just don’t pick up the phone.
Another thing she does, though, if I don’t pick up the phone . . . asks me to do things for her at the theatre. Which leads us back to why we are no longer friends.
Last week, she had me sign her up for an audition time for this newest production. Which, technically, she is supposed to do for herself and read the plays. But, instead of dealing with her rants about how she’s such a good friend to me and guilt-ing me for not doing things for her — I did it.
She didn’t even bother to show up for the audition. Also, at our theatre, technically, you don’t need an audition time. If you come in during the times they are doing auditions … they can usually fit you in. This week she asked me to sign her up underneath me. I did, for Saturday.
Then, overly theatrical as usual, four days before this weekend, she is calling and calling me (like four times) and left me like two voicemails about making sure to that I CHANGED her audition time from Saturday to Friday because of some thing she’s going through.
JB even called the theatre and tried to get someone there to change her time. They told her on the phone she “had to come in” to do it. So, she called me with her urgent requests.
Well, Thursday, when I got to the theatre to do my hours — the staff talked about it again, people need to sign themselves up. I did change her appointment to Friday and wrote her a note on facebook. The note wasn’t mean, but basically I expressed my busy life — it has been a hot long workweek and the theatre has little a/c and I’ve been dealing with back issues, etc. — so, I told JB on facebook. I did it this time, but you know, in the future, you can just come in and not always depend on me to remember, etc.
Of course, JB being very self-involved, wrote me back on facebook and said things to try to make me feel like a “bad friend” because, as she put it . . . she “did” my reading despite her severe injury and kidney infection and she was “in pain” the whole time! She went on to tell me how the girl who played the lead, not her, was terrible and wrong for the role [she wasn’t]. JB just had to push in the knife! I totally told her NOT to do the reading a few weeks ago if she was in so much pain, etc.!!!
Nothing angers me more than people who guilt you with what they did for you . . . and you OWE them your life! Especially when I said it in kind way!
Me being the theatrical drama queen that I am . . . of course, have to one-up her rants and I wrote back. I told her, and let me actually attach the conversation here:
Angela Theresa: July 22 at 7:08pm: Your audition is tomorrow at 3 pm.
You do know, with [this program]; you can just “walk in” when you’re available and they will fit you in. That is , if you cannot come yourself, during the week before to sign up.
If I didn’t get a chance or forgot, it’s not a situation where I ruin or make your chance; and really, they don’t take note and say, “She didn’t show up when she signed up! Never cast her!”
They just don’t do that at our theatre.
I am here, at the theatre, nevertheless; and can help you out tonight. That is not always the case when my job, my homework and life overwhelm me, though.
JB: July 22 at 7:20pm: Don’t want to overwhelm you- gee-I came out to do your reading when all said my health was and still is bad. I did it for friendship. By the way Tori was plus sized and her acting as community theatre. Your show should be worth more. Nor she or I would be hired as a newscaster. Cancel me you signed me up I don’t want in.
Note her need to “guilt” me and attack my choices about my play . . . trying to make me feel bad for telling her in the future I cannot do this.
Angela Theresa July 22 at 7:22pm: It’s not that . . . I had a long, long, long day in 90-degree heat, heat stroke, and am on three drugs. Everyone is overwhelming me. And I’m glad you did the reading. You were great!
I’m just complaining . . . and getting pissed off that she even attempted to attack my casting choice and guilt me!
Angela TheresaJuly 22 at 7:23pm: … I am at the theatre and it’s hot here, too.
Justifying . . . me attempting to win my point-of-view!
Angela Theresa July 22 at 7:24pm: I am going to go through hell tomorrow to get on medicaid . . . and may not be able to have anything done for my health. I may have arthritis in my spine, so they told me and hypothyroidism. I’m depressed because this scares me . . .that my life is over. I can’t be crippled or sick or I will want to be dead.
Angela Theresa July 22 at 7:26pm: … and I need out of my job and I am broke, my mother is broke, my roommates are making me nuts. But, I’m trying to not upset friends. Sorry if I upset you by just saying a little bit of my issues. I go back to being my usual happy self. And keep things to myself. Sorry to burden you or make you feel bad.
Me playing the same guilt games as her . . . trying to make her feel like she made me feel with her comment.
Angela Theresa July 22 at 7:26pm: Audition. I won’t come audition. I need to focus on my health.
Please note the time between the last three messages . . . what a minute or two, right in a row. She than rang my phone like four times in a row! At this time, audience members were coming in to see the show. And, not to forget, JB knows this — there are about three staff members there with me the whole time. And she damn well know this!!!
I don’t answer her phone calls, figuring from her facebook note that she is angry with me . . .I don’t need her phone calls telling me what a terrible friend I am. So, she starts texting … of course, angry I won’t placate her and listen to her phone rants about how terrible I am. Thus, she has to raise the stakes and says this crap!
JB, July 22 @ 7:38pm: 10 minutes to tell me u wouldn’t be better off dead or I have to report this
My first thought is . . . she has got to be joking! She is just saying this to one-up me and FORCE me to call her back. I don’t want to speak to her! And I text back — Yes, I’m trying to make her feel guilty!
ME: @7:40pm: If I have a disease I will be better off. A disease that will put me in a wheelchair.
I figured she was just trying to scare me into calling her … she is over-dramatic. Thus, I realized she’d do something stupid.
JB, July 22 @ 7:41pm: Then I am calling 911
I caught on she was going to go to far! I’m thinking, at this point . . . I am at a crowded theatre. Is she really that stupid?! Calling the police when 1) I’m overwhelmed, so trying to get me locked up in a mental ward is going to help me? How? 2) I’m at a theatre with people and if I were really suicidal, she KNOWS someone there would be caring for me and 3) she knows DAMN WELL I am not threatening suicide.
I KNOW she was just trying to get her way and make her points on the phone . . . so she called the police to FORCE me to call her. And now to HUMILIATE me as pay back for not doing her bidding.
She lied, it certainly wasn’t TEN MINUTES.
Let me diagnose her — Narcissistic Personality Disorder (making this about her and not just being a real friend and saying … in the first fucking place “Yeah, I should do these things myself. Thank you.), she has Delusions of Grandeur by using her degree to justify embarrassing people and saying crap like “assessing” and “I have to“. When, in the 30 or 40 times she has told me she’s killing herself, I didn’t once ASSESS the crazy bitch and call 911 on her at a CROWDED THEATRE!
ME: @ 7:42pm: Am I in a wheelchair now.
To make her stop . . . and anyway, she knows I am not doing it now and the fact I am at a crowded theatre!
JB @ 7:42pm: Ok going to call now. I have to
Here we go, the bitch decides she has to look all important and be the center of attention by making it seem like I’m standing on the ledge of the Empire State Building . . . as she must’ve told some like to 911 . . .
ME: @ 7:43pm: you are nuts…I am not suicidal. I am standing and walking.
She is just angry that she didn’t win the argument so now JB has decided to pay me back and raise my blood pressure more by giving me a panic attack by threatening to have me locked up in a rubber room. Some friend!
JB @ 8:09pm I did this out of care and much more. Someone says they’d be better off dead I have to assess. I couldn’t get you on the phone so I tried giving you ten minutes. You non suicidal msg came in too late. I again did this because I care as much as I have to.
Assess, my fucking ass! There’s the answer . . . she couldn’t get me on the phone; and by the way, she knows the phone number of the theatre. She knows damn well she could call the theatre and talk to the manager and find out what I’m doing. She cares — about winning her way — that’s as much as she has too. A professional would “assess” like this — ask questions, in a calm manner. What kind of fool escalates the situation by threatening to call police. Unless I was in front of her with a gun in my mouth, she has NO RIGHT to over-react, especially as a professional, to a statement about something that hasn’t even happened yet [If I am in a wheelchair IS NOT NOW] without follow-up questions; plus if the person is in a public forum, in front of tons of much closer witnesses, who can ASSESS the situation much more easily than her — witnesses she could phone, without panicking anyone. SHE KNOWS THE PHONE NUMBER of the theatre!
About this time, before the FDNY arrived, she phoned me again. I picked up the phone and without listening to her, really and tore another hole into her insane head!!! The bitch had the nerve to say something, as she was crying (fake — and I thought I was the one who was suicidal, so why the fuck is she hysterically crying?) about “I don’t want to overwhelm you . . . more” which put me into a tirade about my high blood pressure . . .
I mean, how does acting like a hysterical bitch (her) and threatening me with committment in a mental facility (because she lost an argument) NOT overwhelm me more!!! To even imagine having my freedom taken away, my job lost (if I’m in a hospital on drugs I don’t need) due to a false accusation (?) . . . under those circumstances, yes, I would become suicidal! Locking me up, taking away my freedom is the last thing I can handle! My God . . .! And all because she cannot stand losing an argument!!!
I hung up on her raging, but trying to contain it, as there were people there. Besides, I wasn’t suicidal, I was homicidal and she’s lucky she was not there, in person . . . I would’ve liked to have beat her senseless, at the very least! If she wasn’t already senseless.
When the FDNY arrived, they didn’t even know it was a theatre!I had calmed myself almost to laughter. I wondered, they looked so confused — what kind of lie did she tell? And there were like 50 people in the lobby for a show. The FDNY officers (?) asked my name . . . I told them and that JB is the insane one and called over a facebook argument.
They asked to see her . . . When I told them she called from her place, a few miles from here, they were not happy. My intuition tells me she must’ve told them she was with me. Which is a LIE! I told the FDNY about all her threats to die in the past and that they should go see if she needs a mental institution. I know she does.
Anyway, they left. But, how embarrassing to the audience, the management and my fellow actors. The fact that I know her has caused others to avoid me at the threatre, too. JB better think twice about returning to this theatre . . .because her antics tonight was heard by the management and those casting the festival. I just hope the festival people doesn’t let this reflect their thoughts about me..
Reminds me of another crazy person I once knew.
A friendship is over.
I am a loving person, nevertheless, I do not allow people to abuse me in any way. And to use the guise of “caring” as a reason to humiliate, embarrass and ruin my reputation is not being caring. It’s being manipulative and insane.
A real friend would know better.
And really, I don’t have a degree in psychology. But, if someone really was suicidal, and you believed them to be this . . .would you THREATEN them with text like “if you don’t call in 10 minutes I’m having you committed!!!” My God, scare a suicidal person into doing it before the police arrive. It’s like running toward a person on the edge of a bridge and screaming, scaring them “Don’t jump!”
Wouldn’t you treat a potentially suicidal person with kindness and not escalating the situation with scare tactics?! Wouldn’t you text or say, “Honey, are you all right? Do you really want to die? Are you so overwhelmed you will do something?“
I would think you would do that FIRST before texting THREATS of police or men in white coats. Because really, her threats did exactly the opposite. I wanted to 1) run away and hide for hours, 2) beat the shit out of her (yes, I’m violent when angry — I mean, I won’t do it and don’t take that seriously!) or 3) tell her off and call 911 on her for her dangerous threats of suicide and her very dangerous weight (she is morbidly obese) and personality traits that probably require medication.
I am working on moving from anger to pity. I will not speak to her again, nevertheless. I decided to keep insane people out of my life. They do suck my energy or give me high blood pressure and re-ignite my panic disorder with these kind of situations.
I need calm, cool and kindness when I’m overwhelmed. I am also over-dramatic; she’s known this since I was a teenager and knew better than to take any statements I made on facebook or anywhere seriously; especially about things such as suicide or murder.
To be honest, when it comes to suicide, besides the fact I’m a coward and would never do it. I wouldn’t tell anyone, anywhere. If I ever found myself quadriplegic, which I would rather be dead than that (and God bless those who live with that, they are brave souls) — I would probably just starve myself to death or will myself to the Other Side. Which means, suicide by any other means than the slow suicide of anorexia is not in my MO. My real friends know that, too.
This is my way to let out anger . . . to get it to a “better feeling”, which I hope is soon. I need to feel pity for JB. But, this is fresh and I’m still pretty pissed that anyone would go so far as to damage my health, my reputation and my career, on purpose, like this just to try to win an argument.
Although, I will never really speak with her again. JB owes me an apology and a true admission that she DID THE WRONG THING and was purely selfish, wrong and just plain stupid to do it.
By the way, early that morning, she wrote me an email . . . I had someone else read it, because when I’m through, I’m through . . . and as part of mental illness, she tried to justify her motives as caring (liar) and ended with “I love you…”. Nevertheless, that’s a lie, too. If she truly loved me, as a friend, and cared, she would have NEVER, as I stated over and over — tried to have me put away, embarrass me or humiliate me with bull crap about a stupid statement I made and people make all the time, and her more than me!!! I never embarrassed her or called people on her for her detailed threats of suicide and punishing her mother!
Yeah, still angry . . .okay, maybe it’s all out now.