Why hello Brad...

I had a dream last night.

I was in my mother's car. In Chicago Heights. Joe Orr Road. Waiting at a stop light. Dark. Stormy. Wicked stormy. Just-so-close-to-a-tornado stormy.

Two tall men are running in the rain to my car. I can tell they're running with the intent to get in and take over. I'm afraid.

C'mon I'm in Chicago Heights at some god forsaken hour with 2 tall men coming at me, how could I not be terrified?

One of them gets in the driver's side, pushing me over so he can take control. The other gets in the back seat.

The guy in the driver's seat is Brad Pitt.

His friend is George Clooney.

They're both grateful to be out of the storm and George is beaming and laughing and chatting away.

I'm so stunned I don't question why they're here or where Brad is taking us.

I find myself in Brad's home. I guess he has a place in Chicago. Or Indiana (Chicago Heights is very close to the state border). Or maybe he drove us all the way to New Orleans and I didn't notice seeing as Brad f*&king Pitt was driving me with George Clooney in back.

I'm immediately handed a pomegranate martini. Organic natch. People are milling about. Friendly vibe. But VIP as well. It's some sort of secret underground fundraiser. Only the really cool, hip, smart -- yet incredibly kind -- people have been invited. Brad wanted to make sure I got there. His home is amazing. Beautiful. Modern. All sustainable. Everything in there is recycled, organic, environmentally and politically conscious.

It's kinda David Lynchian tho...

Downstairs a presentation has begun. A woman speaks. She's a former drug addict gushing with thanks to Brad, George and their foundation for pulling her out of her self-induced gutter and saving her life from drugs. We're all crying from her story. She buckles over. I see her convulse as one does when vomiting. She stands back up, wiping her mouth, uttering "I'm fine...really I'm fine, dont' worry I'm fine" She's obviously wasted in some meth/heroine wacked out desert.

My body is kidnapped by horror. Shame. Despair. Failure. I quickly turn away and walk as far from the presentation as possible. I can't take it. I can't handle watching the failure.

And yet while walking away crying, shaking, praying I'm also thinking "whoa I hope John Cusack is seeing how deeply touched I am by this woman's plight. He would totally want to meet me impressed with my sensitivity and depth."

I overhear Brad or maybe George on the mike announcing to the crowd how everything is ok because my mother is there to help and she has already rescued the woman. He goes on to agree with everyone on the greatness of my mother-- her saint-like life. Everyone applauds and celebrates the good, selfless, miracle-giving life of my mother the heroine.

I get myself together and return to the main room.

It's clear while I was gone wait staff served organic, locally grown gourmet vegan and raw food. Exotic food too. All indescribably yummy. All untouchably expensive and rare.

But now it's all gone. I get a crumb of some goat cheese off a plate.

People wander finishing off their 2nd drinks. Champagne. very very very insanely expensive and delicious champagne. I want to have a glass, but the staff is cleaning up and the crowd is thinning and I worry if I grab a 2nd glass I'll look desperate for the alcohol and, thus, labelled an alcoholic.

So I just stand there. Alone. Hungry. Sad.

Feeling like the poor, hungry outsider I've always felt like growing up. Standing in the classroom alone watching all the kids laugh and play on the jungle gym. Sitting alone in my apartment watching all the people giggle and stumble with each other down the sidewalk late into the night.

But I shared this dream with my mother and she said it's positive. And I think, "Brad Pitt and George Clooney get into my car and insist on driving me to a VIP party at Brad's home--- you needed a degree in Psych from the University of Chicago to decipher this as a positive story?"

Reply to man screaming obscenities at me at the bus stop

As I sat on the bus stop bench on the corner of Lincoln/Montana waiting for the #3 to take me to LAX to pick up my family...

A man driving a Camero drove past me and angrily screamed:

"Buy a fucking car!!!"



*clearing throat*



I had to sell my American made GM Saturn which sat broken down roughly 6 of the 7 years I owned it thanks to a crummy-designed & built cooling system. I couldn't afford to repair it anymore when I lost my job at a major banking firm.

the hesitant goodbye

so I went back to Chicago in December thanks to long-term unemployment and California keeping my unemployment benefits from me. The time home was supposed to be just for 6 weeks. Just to have someone else pay my rent for that time so I could live rent-free and hopefully resolve my issues with the state of California.

the trip home turned into 3 1/2 months thanks to needing a 2nd appeal with unemployment and the only subletter I could find needing my place through the end of March.

when I came back home (Santa Monica) 1April, my appeal was still up in the air, I was flat broke, and very depressed that my only option was to spend the month packing and saying goodbye to a town in which I've lived, worked, played, loved, lost for 10 years.

less than 1 month to say goodbye after 10 years.

Now I'm a bit of a fighter, so I was optimistic some miracle would happen that would allow me to stay here at least another 6 months.

But as of 10 days ago no miracle occurred. So I helped my mother and sister buy 2 one-way tickets to California with the plan we drive my stuff back to Chicago the final week of April.

I spent the next 36hours on my couch depressed, crying, living on a diet of coffee and hoho's.

then 9 days ago I had a nightmare about the near-future of southern california and that made me feel ok about leaving. In fact, rather excited about getting out before the apocalypse!

So I made my plan to leave at the end of the month. Made a list of things I need to do here before saying goodbye, feasibly, forever.

But 4 days ago I got the answer to my 2nd appeal with California unemployment and- holy crap there's the miracle I prayed for my 1st 2 weeks back in Santa Monica --- The judges reversed all 3 of the accusations against me! And even declared the money taken from me last fall should be returned!! Without sitting down to do the calculations, I can safely estimate I'll receive a check from the state for over $10,000.

This is about 5 months of rent - IF I don't move or re-negotiate my rent with my landlord. And, of course, I'll now receive checks from the state equalling my monthly rent until I can finally find a job.

For the 1st time in over 10 years I finally FINALLY had a prayer answered. But what about the nightmare?

So I get that miracle which allows me to stay here. And my home is FINALLY a home I enjoy. Ok, it could use a new couch. Some bookcases. New carpeting and paint. Some artwork. But overall? My home is a cozy, peaceful escape from the world. I love my home for the 1st time in 10 years. More so than the home I loved in Chicago 10 years ago! I have a full bedroom. An office. A dining table. A full kitchen. Windows windows everywhere! And a beautiful HUGE patio on which I can sit, read, sleep, draw -- night and day. Listening to the birds chirp. Sometimes I can even hear the ocean. Palm trees and fir trees against blue skies. My dog happily naps on her blanket out here with me.

I walk about my neighborhood with Kennedy and I see the For Rent signs. And the empty spaces that used to be private boutiques. and the For Sale signs. The rental ads are full of people begging strangers to take over their mortgage payments before they lose their homes. The streets aren't as full of pedestrians and shoppers anymore.

In Chicago, I could feel a strong life-force pulsing through the streets. Healthy, oxygen-charged blood forcing energy throughout the city.

Santa Monica is quiet. and still. scared.

So I continue with my plan to leave. Family arrives in 5 days for a brief visit before we pack up and drive out in a week. I sit here right now on my patio crying for what I'm leaving. For a life I've dreamed of for over 10 years - finally achieved - now packing up and leaving?

So I'm trying to say goodbye. I'm trying to do the things here I know I will most miss when back in Chicago. But I'm foregoing a lot because I love my home. FINALLY love my home so much I don't want to leave it! I know there is potentially something so much better waiting in the future. Anytime I've been forced to change my life, a much better one was waiting for me. But am I being forced to move now? I got my money. I have that life I fantasized about for 10years. The one I cried for. I've got it!

Kennedy is rolling and stretching in the sunbeams on our patio. I'm enjoying the leaves on my new chocolatemint plant I bought at the farmers' market Wednesday. The chirping birds. The fresh ocean air.

But we have a walk to the ocean waiting for us... one of our final ocean strolls. So I suppose I need to say goodbye

for now...

Happy Birthday Jack!

Only sorry he got caught

Madoff pleads guilty and goes to jail in handcuffs

By LARRY NEUMEISTER and TOM HAYS, Associated Press Writers
1 min ago
NEW YORK – Saying he was "deeply sorry and ashamed," Bernard Madoff pleaded guilty Thursday to pulling off perhaps the biggest swindle in Wall Street history and was immediately led off to jail in handcuffs to the delight of his seething victims.
U.S. District Judge Denny Chin denied bail for Madoff, 70, and ordered him to jail, noting that he had the means to flee and an incentive to do so because of his age.
Madoff spoke softly but firmly to the judge as he pleaded guilty to 11 charges in his first public comments about his crimes since the scandal broke in early December.
"I am actually grateful for this opportunity to publicly comment about my crimes, for which I am deeply sorry and ashamed," he said.
"As the years went by, I realized my risk and this day would inevitably come. I cannot adequately express how sorry I am for my crimes."
Prosecutors say the disgraced financier, who has spent three months under house arrest in his $7 million Manhattan penthouse, could face a maximum term of 150 years in prison at sentencing June 16.
DeWitt Baker, an investor who attended the hearing and said he lost more than a million dollars with Madoff, called it "fantastic" that Madoff's bail was revoked but belittled the apology.
"I don't think he has a sincere bone in his body," said DeWitt, who added that prison time would be too good for Madoff.
"I'd stone him to death," he said.
Madoff did not look at any of the three investors who spoke at the hearing, even when one turned in his direction and tried to address him.
The fraud, which prosecutors say may have totaled nearly $65 billion, turned a revered money man into an overnight global disgrace whose name became synonymous with the current economic meltdown.
Madoff described his crimes after he entered a guilty plea to all 11 counts he was charged with, including fraud, perjury, theft from an employee benefit plan, and two counts of international money laundering.
He told the judge that he believed the fraud would be short-term and that he could extricate himself. He implicated no one else, though investigators suspect involvement by relatives and top lieutenants who helped run his operation from its midtown Manhattan headquarters.
The plea came three months after the FBI claimed Madoff admitted to his sons that his once-revered investment fund was all a big lie — a Ponzi scheme that was in the billions of dollars. Since his arrest in December, the scandal has turned the former Nasdaq chairman into a pariah who has worn a bulletproof vest to court.
The scheme evaporated life fortunes, wiped out charities and apparently pushed at least two investors to commit suicide. Victims big and small were swindled by Madoff, from elderly Florida retirees to actors Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick and Nobel Peace Prize winner Elie Wiesel.
Helicopters circled above the courthouse before the hearing, and federal officers with machine gun-style weapons stood outside as Madoff arrived.
Jilted investors signed in before entering the courtroom on the 24th floor. Richard and Cynthia Friedman turned up to get a glimpse of the man who defrauded them of their life savings of $3 million.
Richard Friedman, an accountant, noticed how well his clients were doing with Madoff and began investing his own money in 1991. He learned it was gone months before he had planned to retire — a plan now on hold.
"I wanted him to see some of the faces of the people he lied to and destroyed," said Cynthia Friedman, 59, of Jericho, N.Y.
After arguments began on whether Madoff should remain free on bail, his lawyer Ira Sorkin described the bail conditions and how Madoff had, "at his wife's own expense," paid for private security at his penthouse.
Loud laughter then erupted among some of the more than 100 spectators crammed into the large courtroom on the 24th floor of the federal courthouse in lower Manhattan. The judge warned the spectators to remain silent.
George Nierenberg, the first of the three investors to speak, approached the podium glaring at Madoff, then said in the financier's direction: "I don't know if you had a chance to turn around and look at the victims."
At the hint of a confrontation, a marshal sitting behind Madoff stood up, and the judge directed Nierenberg to speak directly to the bench.
The courtroom erupted in applause after the judge announced Madoff would go directly to jail. As he was led out of court, a spectator yelled, "Hey, Bernie," but was shushed by investors in court and backed off.
The plea does not end the Madoff saga: Investigators are still undertaking the daunting task of unraveling how he pulled off the fraud for decades without being caught.
Court papers say Madoff generated or had employees generate "tens of thousands of account statements and other documents through the U.S. Postal Service, operating a massive Ponzi scheme," prosecutors said.
The money was never invested, but was used by Madoff, his business and others, prosecutors said.
Authorities said he confessed to his family that he had carried out a $50 billion fraud. In court documents filed Tuesday, prosecutors raised the size of the fraud to $64.8 billion.
Experts say the actual loss was more likely much less and that higher numbers reflect false profits he promised investors. So far, authorities have located about $1 billion for jilted investors.
In addition to prison time, he said Madoff faces mandatory restitution to victims, forfeiture of ill-gotten gains and criminal fines.
___
Associated Press writers Jennifer Peltz and David B. Caruso contributed to this report.

The best latte

Didn't sleep much last night- My subletters leave in a wee less than 3 weeks which means I have to go back to Santa Monica and be forced into things I don't want to do just yet (or at all in some things). Unless a miracle happens and I get a job soon. VERY SOON.

Even Kennedy knows I'm paralyzed with anxiety right now. Instead of sleeping at my feet, she squeezed her body along side mine on that very narrow couch I've been calling a bed for 3 months. I don't even have money to buy my flight back to California. Don't have the money to bring the animals to a vet for a flight certificate. Then, of course, no money to fly them with me.

And as it looks like I may be forced to spend April packing up to move back to Illinois - into my mother's home - 100% dependent on her indefinitely....well I slip into a depression I'm determined to fight. But some days even walking homeless dogs and helping kittens post-surgery won't remove the sludge from my heart. Thanks to yet another one of my mother's fits, I try to consider really how bad it would be to just live on the streets vs more time enslaved to her and her anger.

So before I walk doggies, I treat myself. More Intelligensia. Since it's my 1st cup of the day, I can enjoy one of their award-winning lattes. Made by the recent winner of the US Barista Championship, Michael Phillips. I get lucky and he's here this morning. My latte is exquisite. Both to see and taste. The photo above is me enjoying my, eh, 3rd sip. It's so beautiful I hate to drink it not wanting to destroy the artful way he poured the steamed milk. But to drink it- ahhhhhhhhh-- for now my anxiety lessens...and I'm able to give 4+ hours of this snowy day to 30+ homeless dogs I've been neglecting this past week thanks to flu bugs and motherly surprises.

Getting that 2nd pint glass

Started today abruptly - alarm on my phone waking me at 6:30am. Funny, the last 2 years I was getting up at 5am to take care of dying kitties or walk doggies before getting to my job at 7am. And now a 6:30 wake-up is painful. Honestly, I think the latter is healthier. 5am wake-ups for a low-paying, dead-end job was insane.

So the temp plummeted last night which made me lazy which resulted in Kennedy simply getting the quick, lame "ok honey, just do your thing in the back yard".

Off to Argonne Labs with mom. I can't recall what today's presentation covers. I think it's a standard-maintenance type thing tho. Usually the crisis counseling comes with a colourful, sad story. And I'm drawing a blank here.

I wasn't planning to go, but last night she assured me this was a quickie so we'd be done by noon. This morning the story changed and now I have no idea how long I'm stuck in this coffee shop drumming up ways to take advantage of my lock-up. I've scoured all my usual job boards, applied for the 3 jobs posted for which I'm qualified. Checked email. Checked and played about Facebook. Even read PerezHilton - a bad bad habit I thankfully broke in my unemployment. When your life is fulfilling, you don't need the pain of others to entertain you...

Eventually, I'll get to leave. Take her to her office downtown, then join my college friend, Mike, at Corcoran's on Wells. They're doing this month-long Guinness promotion on Wednesdays. $5 Guinness and you keep the pint glass. I need new glassware for my non-existent kitchen. $6 pub burgers. 35cent wings. The bartender told us last week we'd get an email offering 50% off the wings, but I haven't gotten yet- I hope Mike did!

******
Picked up mom at Argonne - she's smiling...a rare sight. It's both sunny and relatively warm....a rare coupling in Chicago. She needs to take care of some banking business for her mother, then we eat. I ask if she'd prefer to eat out in the burbs, or still wants to grab a burger at the Irish pub on Wells. "I'm starved! let's eat here!" Somehow in our discussion, I realize she's not planning to go to her office today. I balk at change, I inform her I had plans to meet a friend in the city while she was at work. She claims I should have known we weren't going into the city. Same old crazy-making miscommunication from her. The story changes second-by-second and when you call her on it, she still answers non-sensically but in a tone normally attached to certainty. This crazy, changing plans without notifying the other parties, is not rare for her. I ask myself why I continue to believe her when she assures me of her plans. At least I stopped making commitments with anyone 2 months ago. Too many last-minute cancellations from me accompanied by humiliated apologies and the dread that "great, I'll never get a job here thanks to proving I'm unreliable". But I continue to believe her and make wish-washy plans accordingly despite her fairly consistent game-changing. When do I develop some sort of insurance to protect myself against this?

So we go the pub anyway. Broken meter. Sunny day. Warm day. Beautiful day to enjoy some mother/daughter time. She chooses the silent treatment. The martyr treatment. We sit in the pub where she sits silently scowling. Our 1-hour there feels like 10. I think about the week before when 2 1/2 hours flew by laughing with Michael and the bartender.

I think about how much personal sunshine I'm missing by being enslaved to my mother's whims right now. About my life in Santa Monica and my beautiful neighbours. About my life in Chicago if I could afford rent. THIS IS THE TIME TO REALLY ENJOY LIFE. And I'm locked in a depressed, cluttered house of sadness and anger.

I NEED TO FIND A WAY OUT

We get home about 3:30pm. I go to my little room and lay on my "bed". It's a beautiful day to take Kennedy for a nice long walk. But I curl up miserable in the back room and fall asleep until 6pm. I wait impatiently for mom to go to church. Thank G*D for church. The 2 hours she's gone, I breathe again and laugh and play with Kennedy and the babies. Mom still isn't home. She's apparently staying away from home avoiding me. ugh. So I go back to my little room and back under the covers and get to sleep before she comes home.

Good thing she goes to church twice a week. Seems to really help her be a good Christian....