Almost Famous?

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associated content rss user 145691

http://www.associatedcontent.com/user/145691/elyssa_durant.html

Pwned in The USA

Hosting With The Enemy

http://elyssadurant.com/

 http://powersthatbeat.com

THANK YOU @CLIFFSULL FOR BEING SUCH A GRACIOUS HOST FOR YOUR OWN SELF INTEREST.

I HOPE THE FEDS EXTRADITE YOUR SORRY ASS AND DROP ALL CHARGES AGAINST GARY.

#pwned 

 USA




This one is for Marc Parent. No wonder he took me seriously. 
He was with the State Department. They handle abductions and trafficking.

He handled the NWO.

Now it's my turn.

Hotline 1-202-736-7000

Elyssa D. Durant, Legacy
United States of America

@ELyssaD™

Est. 1972 Delaware LIMITED Liability

DailyDoSe™ July 11, 2011

2007-2012 © The Powers That Beat

White Noise: Alone at Home

Writing Through Dark

When I first started writing, the internet it became a substitute for human interaction. Aside from Pepe, the computer had become my next best friend.  Certainly better than any therapist I have ever seen. Writing through dark helped me to clarify and organize my thoughts.

My computer does not ask me stupid questions or blame me for taking too long to spit just the right words.

It does not mind if I stutter, take a break or tend to more pressing matters. The internet was simply another way to escape from the madness that surrounds me.

Before I knew to how to attach formatted, edited, spell checked versions of documents, I would often begin writing in cyberspace only to find that I addressed it incorrectly, or worse, copied the very last person I would want to know exactly how I feel.


There have been times when I have accidentally hit send a little too soon. When I review some of my past journal entries written online, it is easy to see the raw emotion that pours out of my soul into the physical world. There have been countless times I have found myself so completely caught up in the writing process that I get stuck to the keyboard for hours (sometimes even days) and yet there I am—- asleep at the keyboard— again!

Writing "live" can be dangerous—it is far too easy to come off as a raving lunatic who cannot hold one train of thought long enough to keep the web browser from timing out!

If only I could retrieve some of the messages that hit cyberspace...

Will I ever be able to coexist peacefully? Play well with others? I still work at my own pace— sometimes in my own world, always in my own head... I like to think I might flourish in some other man's world and tell myself I could exist in some other reality—but those who see through me know this is my last defense, and however sad, I must believe that if I am to go on.

However, be warned that I may, someday, somewhere, decide to stick around for a while. Could you be my neighbor? Would you be my friend?

Could you? Could I? Can I ever stop running and being afraid? What must I do, what I must learn, or who must I become to make you believe that such social grace and honest beauty have always come naturally to me?

When will this act ever subside? I developed an entire persona based on fear alone. How very sad. The cheerleader that never was. The child that never knew safety, peace, or security. A woman who existed in a world of silence— until now, I suppose.

Somehow, I must learn to embrace the fear. The fear of being discovered for the person that I am rather than the person I often pretend to be.

Regardless of the mask we put on when we go out in public, we all feel insecure, lonely, isolated, and afraid at times. Unfortunately, for me, I feel that way more often than not. I live with the kind of self-doubt that most people outgrow in early adolescence. The older I got, the more isolated I felt. Shouldn't I have outgrown this by now?

So now I have to become the person I used to be. The person I was meant to be. The person who existed long before the realities of life set in. Someone with hope, someone with a purpose. Someone who believed woman who existed long before the shadow of fear and failure ruled my every waking moment and took over the sleepless nights.

Yes, I can. Sometimes.

Fear.

Fear of believing that I deserved to be loved and never finding it. A human being entitled freedoms, and a woman who knows how to make choices. I am already stronger than I ever wanted to be.

I was blessed with strength.

Strength! Who the fuck wanted strength? Who wanted fear? Who wanted freedom???? There are people who love me-- they may not know it yet-- or may have forgotten me by now, but I need to stay put and live within my own skin again for a while just to see how feels.

Just stop running.

I have been challenged in ways that most people cannot even begin or understand-- and for me I must accept that there simply is no justice. So as I am, there is nothing that can replace what I have lost, not inside myself. I do not believe in revenge.

How ironic. How bazaar. Tragic. No one else cares. Who gives a shit? Why seek revenge for its own sake? How would that help? Nothing can replace what has been lost, not within myself.

But what if you are right??? What if--IF-- it is possible to let go of my anger? What will become of all that rage and turmoil I carry around with every waking moment? Can I exist peacefully within my own body? And what about the pain? I mean the hard the hard-core physical pain that hits me when I am most vulnerable? Can I live with the pain?

Can you promise me that it will have been worth it in the end? And, what if, after all is said done, I find myself to be an old woman with no friends, no ties, just a worn out memory of myself as I used to be—or who thought I might become. An old woman who lived far too long and too hard to realize that her act was done one-half a century ago.

Can you make it all worthwhile? Can you live with such responsibility?

Can I ever recapture enough of my former self to become a sexual being rather than innuendo? Can that person coexist in the same body that has brought me so much pain? Will anyone ever sift through the grime to find me? Will they ultimately feel it was just a waste of time? Will he hate me for it? Will he hate women as a result?

Can I ever learn to accept my physical pain without feeling compromised as a woman? Can I ever learn to accept my emotional mind without feeling compromised as a human being?

Do not tell anyone, but I can remember what it was like to enjoy sex. At what point can I allow myself to long for the sensation of human touch without being too optimistic? I don't want to get addicted. Sex will never be enough for me. I dream of loosing myself in a man's body. I dream about complete and absolute absorption.

I shall find mediocrity! Keep your labels interpretations and judgments to yourself. Control your need to soothe my fragile psyche or your need to "cure" me. I must find mediocrity. There in, I hope, lies the self. The everyday, the lull, the common person: rhythmic sanity and flattened affect. Dulled emotions and satisfaction. Satisfied, dull, boring, everyday. God—please!!! Where do I sign up?

Yes— okay— sometimes, it scares me to be so utterly alone, but what purpose does that serve? Even I know how despicable self-pity is in others and in myself. Especially for someone "like" me-- whatever that means! Great—so not only am I sad, but now I am feeling guilty too. And ashamed. And embarrassed. And Fear. And nothingness

Sometimes I wish others could understand the silent, peaceful, uncomplicated absolution that dawns with acceptance and resignation.

My goals have become so convoluted, yet here I sit, 13 years later, and my computer is still my best friend. My search for mediocrity continues. I am still looking for comfortable safety and a place of solitude before I can fulfill my "destiny"... to become whatever it is I was meant to be. Before I was reduced to nothing more than a shell of a person beaten down the Powers That Beat.

A journey on the road towards (Maslow's) self-actualization. Is it too late to build the strong foundations I lacked as a child? To feel secure enough in my physical surroundings and trust that my most basic needs will be met. Can I successfully transition into a world of unknowns without any understanding of the world as it is?

Maybe others have taken this path before me-- or maybe someday, someone might inadvertently wander into this sanctuary I call home. A place where nothing seems as it but exactly the way it is supposed to be.

Look at us-- who we are, what we do, and how we survive... all the people everywhere... All of us with limitless potential yet none of us know it-- irreverent disregard for what is real and complete disrespect for the rules that have thrust upon us.

This is the easy part-- restating economists and social scientists of days gone by-- so it is here that I can rest my head and my tired fingers. Why do I feel this shit? I actually *feel* this shit. As I sit and write (and eventually hit delete) I am bound to the streams of consciousness-- irate bouts of ranting and raving-- knowing how easy it is for people to silence such carrying-ons.

Upon writing my first piece ever-- a poem about motherhood, childhood, and the woman-child, my mother tried to have me committed. What a reality check! At 22, 1 put side my fear and wrote a simple poem for myself, to myself. It was straightforward, simple and direct, and almost landed me in an insane asylum. Are my words that dangerous? Are my feelings so far beyond the norm that I need to be removed from society altogether?

Yes, with a copy of my journal in hand, my mother's shrink showed up at my door-step to express her "grave concern" about my perception of reality. Not the first time, and it definitely would not be the last. As the years went by, I learned that my words would be used against me as a testimony to my madness. Only after years of therapy have I come to understand that it was not my words that were so dangerous, it was my ability to use them correctly. Perhaps it was not my sanity that should have been called into question...

I called my first piece, "On Not Being Able to Write." So simple, so eloquent, and so honest. After that little encounter, I learned about secrecy, symbolism, and self-censorship. I learned to write in riddles, live in puzzles, and think in circles. It kept others out-- but left me afraid. Afraid to be seen for who I am. Afraid of how my words were being received and how they would be interpreted. And now that things have come full circle, I am making a welcome return to honesty and a much needed reprieve from my riddles.

Let there be boundaries. Let them be impenetrable, secure, and bold. Obvious boundaries-- this is my path-- and you may not come with me. You must learn to find your own!

I think I shall buy a paint-by-numbers kit at the toy store. Simple. Impossible-but only because I can not paint!!!!

A City That Doesn't Sleep?

New York, New York.
The City That Never Sleeps

I miss New York. I miss my wild, brilliant friends plagued by curiosity, insomnia, and creativity. But, guess what? I'm coming home!

In the city, I can disappear. I can peruse the streets at 3am and still find things to do. If not to do, then things to see. I can stand in the middle of Times Square just reading the Live News Feeds in technicolor, or I can visit the Internet Cafe just across the street from the Hello Kitty store.

I don't think it was ever really about the city, I think it is more about the anonymity. Someplace you can be yourself, and never worry about being judged for being different. I don't fit in here. But to be fair, I don't really fit in anywhere.

Who knew that loneliness can become a family in its own right? Always there, and always familiar. Who would have believed that solitude can become our greatest companion, and that strangers can become our very best friends. I'm getting older now, and I'm not so sure I like it as much anymore...

I can wake up old friends that actually dare to sleep before the sun comes up. So while you the world sleeps, I write. I dig. I learn, I question, and I write.

To Randall, Wendy, Rob, Robert, Christopher Martin, and a few others that got lost along the way; please know that I still grieve for each and every one of you. I mourn the loss of friendships we once shared, and there is an emptiness in my life that memories and photographs will never fill.

But perhaps most of all, I grieve for my self. I grieve for the person I used to be. The person I almost was. The person I believed I would become. The person you left left behind.

To some: Thanks ForGiving. To others: Good Luck ForGetting.

Elyssa

Chapter II: Older & Bolder

I first started posting this blog shortly after my 35th birthday. It was a gift to myself so I could live my life without being too scared that I might be discovered for being a little bit crazy, a little bit lonely, and making a whole lot of noise. I started by disclosing my deepest secrets, often exposing to my deepest fears. Initially I chose the motto: "Too old to start over, Too young to forget." Eventually that moniker evolved into something a little more challenging and inspirational, "Too old to start over, Too young to give up." Now that my 36th birthday is just around the corner (actually, more like an intersection) I plan to spend the last few days I have in this demographic bracket uncovering some the essays I have written that still need a little tweaking, and a whole lot of twacking! So be prepared to find a few typos, a few disconnected thoughts without making an obvious transition. Because I am naming the next phase of my life, you know, the "35 and up" phase, "Chapter II: A Little Bit Older, And a Whole Lot Bolder." I have enjoyed the feedback I have gotten from so many people from all walks of life who have written in response to something I have written. Women I have never met, from places I do not know. Women like Joy and Cat who encourage me to keep writing even if they disagree with some of my core values or excessive use of profanity. Women (or men) who have somehow managed to stumble across my writings in one of their many raw forms without realizing that just by contacting me, much of the fear and hesitation I once felt about publishing my collection of personal (and professional) essays have been replaced with a new found sense of pride and accomplishment. Fear and uncertainty have are quickly evolving into confidence and proliferation. Personally, professionally, and spiritually, I hope to continue "kicking ass and taking names," because at this point in my life, I may actually start doing that a little bit more. You will notice that I am reclaiming my name and uncovering the many aliases I have used over the years... I am done hiding. I'm am not perfect, and I will always struggle with my obsession to find just The Write Words, but I'm guessing it is probably good enough. Probably good enough so that most people will won't even notice if I forget to capitalize a proper noun or if I end a sentence with a preposition. So be it. You may also notice that I am reclaiming my name, and will be using try to cut down on the number of anonymous postings I listed under an alias because I was afraid I would be embarrassed if my work was not well received. I am ranges from the less obvious accounts I have created to maintain a bit of distance between myself and my classmates, peers, and colleagues, but in addition to "Miss Elyss" or "Lyssie D." I am even willing to admit that I have created so many login accounts and user names to post anonymously, that I have forgotten most of the passwords to access my own content. But I am rather proud of the creativity I demonstrated when I came up with two of my personal favorites, "I.M.Phobic" and "EyePhobic." I never could get into that whole IM thing, webcam or chat rooms! The way I see it, it is bad enough i need to put on clothes and make-up to leave the house-- I'll be damned if I have to put on make-up to send an e-mail! Yes, they were all me. They are a pert of me, because like so many women-- no... like so many people... I'm a little bit of everything... so for those of you who are listening and even to those of you who just wish I would shut the fuck up already; be careful what you wish for! The more content I create, the easier it becomes to let go... and the more I let go, the more I can heal. The more I can heal, the more I can focus on the academic issues that will always be my first and primary area of interest. However, it seems rather obvious to me now that the only way out is through. So, I will continue to write through the dark and hope that it I can become more present minded rather than being trapped by memories from the past. To Joy, Cat, TA James, and a few others, thanks so much for the gift. I hope I can make you proud! Goodnight to you all,

The curious can find anything and everything! I often wonder why it is so much easier for others to to get my information about me than it is for me to get about myself! I'm a digger. To be clear, that is "digger." I never use the "N" word, and I'm way too proud to marry for money. I'm a digger. I love information. I love to find, I love to collect it, but most of all, I love to use it. I love to dissect it, analyze it, formulate new questions and ponder the answers. I love the journey of natural inquiry... never knowing where my racing mind will take me, often surprised surprised by the answer, but always, always intrigued by the things I encounter along the way. So I set out to find the answer to one question, and instead I find myself asking a million more. It keeps me up at night, and allows me to avoid the day. My life is not unexamined, and my thought patterns may be far from typical, but the things I have learned along the way are by far the most intriguing and most unique. I am not afraid to ask questions, nor am I afraid that I don't have all the answers. As a digger, I do know that it is the path least taken: the creative, atypical mind; that is riddled with creativity, tangential thoughts and questions that often deliver the most interesting answers. But sometimes, it is the answers that deliver us to the most interesting questions. We often think that questions drive the inquiry-- at least that's what they tell us in school. To use the "Scientific Method." And of course, to never, ever color outside the lines. But aren't the best discoveries the ones we weren't searching for? The unexpected gift... the non-occasion. The beauty is in the every day. The challenge is in the unexpected. Call me crazy if you like (and many have) but I can assure you that there will come a day when all of that R.A.M. will come in handy. I am definitely asking the right questions... and maybe one day you will too. Finding my voice has allowed me to appreciate the silence. The hours between dusk and dawn where the rest of the world sleeps and I dig. I dig and I write. I fill the lonely hours with my innermost thoughts, and my very best friend. So as the rest of the world sleeps soundly, surrounded by loved ones in a sanctuary they call home, I fill myself with books, journals and information. Lots and lots of information. Who would have thought that loneliness can become a family in it's own right? It is always there and it is always familiar. That solitude can become our greatest companion and that strangers can become our best friends. I miss New York. I miss Dr. Stu. I miss Jefferey and I miss Todd. I miss my wild, brilliant friends plagued by curiosity, insomnia, and creativity. Hey boys-- guess what? I'm coming home! Let's go to hot and crusty at 3 a.m. when everything really is, yes, "hot and crusty!" Lets go the Internet cafe across from the Hello Kitty store and wake up old friends that actually dare to sleep when it is dark out??? WAKE-UP TODD! I've been calling you for hours! I have a joke to I want to tell you! New York, New York... The "City" that never sleeps? See I don't think it was ever really about the city, I think it is more about the anonymity. Someplace you can be yourself, and never worry about being judged by your in-bred hillbilly neighbors who are, in all honesty, much more focused on raising hell then raising children... To them, I am "strange." I am "weird." I am "Italian." or "Jewish" or "something!" because I talk really really fast! You are all wrong: I'm from New York! So while you sleep, I dig. I learn , I question, and I write. But I do it alone, and I'm starting not to like so much. So for all of you out there who are insomniacs: "writers," "consultants," "perpetually un and underemployed yet overqualified" computer geeks -- please enjoy my video blog below. I chose a few songs have keep me company at night. Just loud enough to drown out the drunk couple outside my window having yet another domestic dispute, but low enough so that the neighbors downstairs won't complain. Hopefully, you will know some of the selections that have kept me dancing in the living room into the wee hours of the morning, and can learn something about my favorite word if you are paying attention... You'll find all of my favorites in one place. So enjoy the trip my friends, it's getting early for some, but late for others, and I've got some shit to do before the world wakes up, because to quote John Cougar (or is it Melloncamp?) I Ain't Even Done With The Night! http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=04EA65F6BD91E91B DESCRIPTION: Everything from my favorite word to my favorite website. There's something in there for pretty much every mood-- songs to make you cry, videos to make you laugh. Political ads that make you sick and some that will give you chills-- but at least they make you feel!!! Finding my voice, and hearing those of strangers has given me the strength I needed to move on. So for so many of you who have contacted me lately, via the web, via your cell phone, or even by way of a nasty website-- stand tall and stand close because much like fear, courage also rubs off on you somehow when you are surrounded by the right people. So a big shout out, and a sincere word of thanks to all of you who have helped to find my voice once again and the courage to say whatever is on my mind... Say it loud, say it proud, just say it! I will not be ignored and I will not be forgotten. But guess what, Here Comes the Sun. I made it through night and now it's time to go, because that was SO yesterday! Thanks for giving, good luck forgetting! Elyssa D'Educrat / Elyssa D. Durant Nashville, Tennessee / New York, New York http://www.youtube.com/user/elyssadurant