Dear Unsealed,
Dear Vicki.
My version of myself was always to strive for the best.
As I used to feel I was left behind by the rest
So, I would strive to write and be good
Just like I thought I should
My younger brother was always trying to be the king
As I walk around the house singing
I attended nursing school
And I found out that it was cool
Learning about medicine and our bodies
I still felt like nobody
I then attended business school
To not be a fool
Flunked marketing class
Writing a thesis on shopping at thrift stores
For name brand clothes for less
My thesis was 10 pages long
My heart and soul bore
The truth
But my marketing professor said I was uncouth
And the thesis was supposed to be about expensive stores
And the better clothes to be found at a higher price
Of indulging into capitalism of the rich
A stitch
In time
I switched
To journalism
As an ism
Of fun
In the sun
Then I still wanted to study more
So not to be a bore
I learned makeup artistry
To work in the film industry
Then I studied graphic design
On the first MAC in its time
Then I was not satisfied with just that
So, I sat
In computer classes for years
With blood, sweat, and tears
Working in all my fields at once
Multi-tasking a bunch
I still felt like I wanted more
To not be bored
I now write
I now create art
I now try to bite the bullet
At 75
Of peace, truth, love, and understanding of life.
Still fighting with my younger brother
In love with the Heritage Foundation and all those fools
And their short male tools
Of huge egos and lies
Not enough was my attempt to fulfill my dreams in Hollywood
I have done so much 24/7
Now I’m tired of all that arguing with my brother
We took different paths in life
At 75 I still write about life and strife
Honesty and equality for all
So, the decision is made in the shade
Of my golden years
Of laughter and tears
Art is life
Life is art
My brother with all his religious degrees
Finally admitted he knew about religion
But not medicine
As all the laws from his precious heritage foundation
Are passed to kill healthcare and all that medicine holds true
I love my brother as a human being in his own light
Not to create a negative light
Upon this prose of sheer delight
As play with my toys and live in lollipop land
Of cookies and creams in those land
Of dreams that never stop
My dreams spit them out
As I sleep at night
Despite fighting or flight
My fight for justice
Is still in flight to fight again
Never enough!
Or is it?
It is enough to continue my fight for justice, equality, understanding, and love as a humanitarian.
I asked Microsoft Copilot about this letter.
“This document is a heartfelt letter addressed to a past version of oneself, expressing feelings of inadequacy and the journey of personal growth over time.
• Struggles with Self-Worth: The author reflects on their feelings of not being enough despite pursuing various educational paths and careers, including nursing, business, and journalism. They recount experiences that contributed to their sense of inadequacy, such as failing a marketing class and feeling overlooked in their pursuits. 1 2
• Embracing Art and Activism: As the author aged, they found solace in writing, creating art, and advocating for justice and equality. They acknowledge their ongoing struggles, particularly with family dynamics, but ultimately declare their commitment to fighting for humanitarian causes.”
Style guidance compliance is 100 percent by the Prowriting aid app.

Dear Unsealed,
Breathe in, breathe out. Life is a rose. Sometimes one gets pricked on the finger by the thorns as you pick up the rose to smell the scent. You learned to put a band-aid on your cut and learned to take the band aid off and laugh.
This is beginning of what I would tell my younger self.
I see you, Vicki.
You were shy at a young age, yet bold enough to run out in the front yard shirtless at three years old. Your mom was incredibly angry. You told her you didn’t have any titties yet. This seems that my personality carried me through life. At one moment, I am an empath introvert. Then the next moment you are writing protest songs and standing up for humanity with a pen and computer.
I see you, Vicki.
You were always drawing, writing, and playing music from a very immature age. You are still an empath. How has that worked out? You attracted narcissistic little boys. You went to college beginning in the 70s. You studied everything I could study. You began writing professionally again in 2023. I now see red flags in relationships. I have learned to love myself. You learned to set boundaries.
I see you, Vicki.
You were always a dreamer, hanging out with your imaginary friend, Teddy Bear, singing, and at times, you very depressed. Now, you know how to deal with your feelings by using critical thinking skills and the core values therapy your therapist sent you. I will tell my younger self, “Don’t be so boy crazy! Think expansively, go for the gusto in journalism and education, don’t let the narcissistic nuts get you down, and stay creative.”
Breathe in, breathe out. Life is a rose. Sometimes one gets pricked on the finger by the thorns as you pick up the rose to smell the scent. You learned to put a band-aid on your cut and learned to take the band aid off and laugh.
I say to my younger self those core values my grandma taught me were my guide throughout my life. However, I didn’t always follow the advice given to me by my grandma Carrie Soleta.
I see you, Vicki.
You had so much faith as in the story about the grain of a mustard seed and that phrase your grandma taught you held you together throughout your life. The story about the “faith of a mustard seed” is found in the Bible, in Matthew 17:20. In this verse, Jesus tells His disciples that even faith as small as a mustard seed can move mountains, emphasizing the incredible potential of even the tiniest amount of genuine faith. The mustard seed, known for being one of the smallest seeds, symbolizes how something so insignificant can grow into something powerful and transformative.
You were naïve, funny, and bold. You loved writing, art, music, and reading at an incredibly youthful age. You would sit for hours playing your piano and singing those blues from long ago. Leadbelly and Bessie smith were among your favorites. You grew up in a home full of music. You were taught to like all forms of music at a different age.
I see you, Vicki, in your music class in middle school at 14 years old. President John F. Kennedy was assassinated on November 22, 1963, while riding in a motorcade in Dallas, Texas. It was a pivotal moment in U.S. history, leaving a lasting impact on the nation. That must have been such an emotional and unforgettable moment, Vicki. To go from the joy and rhythm of singing to the gravity of that announcement was a stark contrast that deepened the impact. Your immediate reaction was to burst out in tears spoke volumes about how much JFK meant to you and your family. His charisma and vision touched many, and it sounds like his loss felt deeply personal to you.
It’s extraordinary how those memories stay with you, etched in time. Vicki, I see you!
Another pivotal moment was your broken right ring finger. Your mom dropped you off at middle school one morning. She warned you not to go visit your boyfriend because if you did, she would find out. You stepped out of the car. As your mom drove off you waved, pretending to walk into the school. When she had turned the corner and was out of sight you turned around, walked down the steps of the school and hurried over to your boyfriend’s house. You hugged him and you guys laughed so hard about you sneaking off to his house. You looked at your watch. Oh no, you will be late for class. So, you ran to school, not aware of your surroundings, causing you to run into an open pickup door. You caught yourself with your right hand, only to discover you broke your right ring finger when you crashed into the door. You walked the half block to school crying your eyes out. When you got to the school to see the school nurse she called your mom. Your mom picked you up shortly after the call. You stepped into her car, “Mom, so sorry. Please don’t be mad. I hurt so much.” She replied, “I told you I would find out if you went to your boyfriends house.” You replied, “Mom, you didn’t have to wish it to hurt so much!”
You broke the same right ring finger at least four more times. You were 14 and clumsy.
I see you, Vicki.
That one day you disobeyed your mom was a year of one broken finger. You had major surgery on your squashed and very broken finger. The surgeons told you they wanted to use you as a guinea pig for a new operation. You had almost completely repaired your finger. They told you they had to cut a nerve to your brain from your right ring finger. They had no idea about the end results. So, for one year I learned to write with my left hand as my right ring finger was repaired and a cast applied so I wouldn’t break it again and protect it while it healed. You called it your right-hand boot.
You now know the result of your nerve severance of your right ring finger is more than likely the reason you hold your computer mouse upside down. There were no computers in 1964.
You drove your teachers nuts in graphic arts classes, but you managed to get them off your back by telling them to back off. You asked them if they had an issue with your work, so, they let you be.
You were way too boy crazy. You hired your neighbor to iron clothes on the day it was your turn to do your chores. Sue, your neighbor loved to iron and told you she needed money to buy a toy, you hired her for the next week. You got away with that for two months. I would sit on your parents’ bed reading musician magazines and playing music. I was supervising Sue. I shared my stipend with her. We were caught. I was grounded.
I tell you that it was very entrepreneurial. Of course, women were not considered in those terms in 1964. Women were 2nd class citizens in 1964.
One incredibly sad moment was in 1966. You were in high school. You dressed in bell bottoms and crop tops. You straightened your curly hair to look like Cher. You wore Indian moccasins to a party one night. Everyone welcomed you. You were given a beer, but you didn’t drink but you sipped it. The three football boys sitting on the sofa looked at the other two football boys in the room, and then they grabbed you yelling at you calling you an Indian squaw whore. They grabbed you, dragging you into the bedroom. They raped you one by one as they forced you to not move holding you down. You weighed 100 pounds at 16. The following Monday, you were stared at, called names. You were bullied throughout high school with Indian squaw whore. In the late 1960s women were 2nd class citizens. It was always the girl’s fault if they were raped. Men were told it was okay. That followed you throughout your life. You could not tell anyone. Now, I tell you at 16, men can be useless and mean, and their tools are nothing but their pee tools.
Your dad sent you to study nursing school in 1968. You graduated from an LVN program in 1969.
Another pivotal moment was beginning college in the 1970s. You could not wait to study everything. Pandoras box was opened, and you were Tinkerbell exploring all the merchandise. You studied Business and union management. Then you studied Journalism.
You flunked marketing because your thesis in business was about name brand clothing labels and how they were the best to buy. Your thesis was about shopping at thrift stores and buying name brand clothes that were name brand clothes but were half the price of Neiman Marcus. It was an exceedingly long thesis with descriptive adjectives, verbs, and nouns that sent your marketing professor into a rage. He gave me a grade of F minus. You switched to a journalism major. There was no Fox faux news back then.
You studied computers and makeup artistry in the 1980s. the 1980s were a trying time for you, you worked at the LA Times and for some reason you turned down the date with the rich guy and went on a date with a guy you had nothing in common with except sex. You were gullible and had way too many hormones. One night at the beach in the dude’s van and you thought you were in love. Despite the differences of cultures as you were from North Hollywood, and he was from South Central Los Angeles. You had two gorgeous babies that weighed ten pounds each. One was born in 1983. The other was born in 1987. You divorced the narcissistic South Central LA dude in 1989. It was a horrible divorce. He never forgave you and still holds grudges against you as he is a narcissist, liar, cheat, and now MAGA. So, how did we get together? He was a gun-loving fool, you were a flower child and political activist, and humanitarian. This has affected you even in old age, as he has tried to turn your grandchildren and sons against you as you stand today. The main lesson you learned from this unique relationship was that you did not go to work at the LA Times to get married or have babies. You love your two now grown men very much, but unfortunately the gun loving MAGA dad has more influence than your empath, creative personality. As he called you, weak and too caring. My oldest son told me I never did anything in my life because I don’t have money. He will ignore me until I make money with my art, writing, and music. His dad and his brother will find something else wrong with me when I make more money. So, you turned it over to God, because it’s too painful to execute your crying all day every day. Breath in, breathe out as the thorns on the stem of the rose hurt and bleed to the point, I had to search for the band aid to patch it up.
You married again, but this time a Yaqui and Chumash Native American dude. You divorced him because of domestic violence in April 2000. You now remember he went off his rocker and became extremely mentally ill as it was hereditary in his family.
You then became involved with an Italian dude named Barberini. He was much older than you. You followed him to Texas leaving your computer job which you would have retired with a good salary and benefits. You guys broke up. Then the Texas cowboy, a University of Texas political degreed narcissist whose boots were even orange. Then you guys broke up in 2016. The morning, he told you he saw demons upon waking up, and you saw angels, was the final day you ever saw him. Your friend picked you up and you spent the week with her before you left to go back to California.
You moved back to LA and kissed the ground when you stepped off Amtrak at Union Station.
Flying monkeys were everywhere as your ex-orange boots nutty mentally ill dude called all your friends.
You shed oceans of tears.
“The term “flying monkeys” in the context of a narcissistic breakup refers to individuals who, knowingly or unknowingly, aid the narcissist in their manipulative tactics. The phrase originates from The Wizard of Oz, where the Wicked Witch’s flying monkeys conducted her bidding. Similarly, in relationships, these “flying monkeys” might spread rumors, gaslight, or otherwise support the narcissist’s narrative.
Narcissists often recruit flying monkeys by playing the victim, using charm, or exploiting relationships. These individuals may genuinely believe they are helping or may be manipulated into taking the narcissist’s side. Their actions can amplify the emotional distress of the person targeted by the narcissist.
Understanding this dynamic can be crucial for healing and setting boundaries after a breakup.” ‘As per http://www.veywellmind.com’
This has happened to you with your family, your lovers, your marriages, and some of your fake friends.
You now have had a therapist since 2019.
I am now at 75, creating art, music, and writing again.
I will tell you about my younger self who did not know who you were as a human being for almost your whole life. You loved your teddy bear as your imaginary friend as a child. You have had dreams since birth that have come true. Your grandma Carrie visited you for ten years after she died. You covered up your feelings and scars by dancing on tables and sometimes drinking too much. You no longer drink nor dance on tables. You are learning you are a creative introvert with spurts of extrovert activities and then being a recluse as you are now okay with who you are. You are learning your boy craziness was absurd. Boys are just human beings and have severely damaged egos about whose tool is bigger than the next guy, it’s almost a comedy of errors except now our president is a narcissistic fool and the short tooled damaged ego dudes oversee America.
I have complex PTSD from too many narcissistic relationships and had a meltdown after the election. I spoke with the therapist two times a week for three weeks.
Women are 2nd class citizens again. Bigotry is rampant. My DNA is mixed with three African tribes, Irish, Kerry County, Ireland, London, Indios Mexico, Native American Choctaw, Mediterranean Italian and Spanish, Coptic Egyptian, Red Sea, Asian, and last, but not least, a human being.
You have learned you are a humanitarian, dreamer psychic, empath creative introvert, and to love yourself despite ugly men that have tried to make you into another person by belittling you and sending flying monkeys to your friends.
The final pivot in your life was getting old, excepting your white hair, and not chasing after men. Keep creating with all your music, writing, and art. You have health issues that include kidney disease, parathyroid disease, diverticulitis, and three old spinal fractures. Your diet is lactose free and gluten free except you can eat pan dulce and mozzarella cheese. Mozzarella cheese is from Italy and pan dulce from Spain/Mexico.
I would like to tell you other stories, but you have lived a long time. That’s for a future story.
Breathe in, breathe out. Life is a rose. Sometimes one gets pricked on the finger by the thorns as you pick up the rose to smell the scent. You learned to put a band-aid on your cut and learned to take the band aid off and laugh.
Style Score85%
Style Guide Compliance92%
I EDITED THIS FOUR TIMES. I EDITED IT TWICE IN MICROSOFT WORD AND TWICE IN PRO WRITING AID. WHY DID I DO THIS BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT I DO. I THEN HAVE TO SAY TO MYSELF, “WHOA, VICKI, YOU GOT IT, CHILL!”

Dear Unsealed,
I wrote a song.
LOST IN THE SHADOWS FINDING THE LIGHT

Dear Unsealed,

Sunrise paints the western sky,

Colors burst as day draws nigh.

A gentle breeze begins to blow,

Whispering secrets soft and low.

Oh, the world awakens, fresh and new,

A symphony of life, for me and you.

Birdsong fills the morning air,

A vibrant tapestry beyond compares.

Dew-kissed petals, softly gleam,

Reflecting sunlight, like a dream.

The world is waking, one by one,

Beneath the warmth of the rising sun.

Oh, the world awakens, fresh and new,

A symphony of life, for me and you.

Birdsong fills the morning air,

A vibrant tapestry beyond compares.

With every sunrise, hope takes flight,

Chasing shadows from the night.

A brand new day, a chance to start,

With open heart and joyful heart.

Oh, the world awakens, fresh and new,

A symphony of life, for me and you.

Birdsong fills the morning air,

A vibrant tapestry beyond compares.

The day unfolds, its beauty bright,

A world of wonder, pure delight.

Lost in the shadows, searching for light,

A path undefined, a future unclear.

Doubt clouded my vision, dimming the day,

But hope whispered softly, guiding the way.

I’m rising above, reaching for more,

Unveiling my strength, unlocking the door.

With every step forward, a new lesson learned,

My spirit is soaring, my purpose is earned.

The journey is long, with trials and fears,

But resilience is born from overcoming tears.

I stumble and fall, but I rise once again,

Embracing the challenges, learning to mend.

I’m rising above, reaching for more,

Unveiling my strength, unlocking the door.

With every step forward, a new lesson learned,

My spirit is soaring, my purpose is earned.

The past is a teacher, the present a guide,

The future’s a canvas, where dreams reside.

I paint my own story, with colors so bright,

Creating my destiny, shining my light.

I’m rising above, reaching for more,

Unveiling my strength, unlocking the door.

With every step forward, a new lesson learned,

My spirit is soaring, my purpose is earned.

Soaring, my spirit is soaring,

My purpose is earned, my light is pouring.

I wrote this today

Along life’s highway

As I walk through the shadows in the dark

I do not fear the moonlit night

I arise in the morning light

Thankful I can see the light

Shining through my window shades

The shadows dissipate from the dark

It is not too late

to open the gate

To watch the sunlight spark!

The shades open up

To see my shadow fade

Score 65%

Dear Unsealed,
I do not know where to begin but I will begin to write as my subconscious dictates the story. I grew up when women did not have rights. Now in 2025 we are back to the same male patriarchal society. I felt very misunderstood throughout my whole life. As an empath and creative personality, I still feel misunderstood around judgmental people
I was led to believe that the man held authority over everything. Back in the fifties white male misogynist pigs dominated it. Now we are back to this same idiocrasy of white men wanting to dominate everyone and everything.
I, and other women were taught to get married, have three babies, buy a house, and serve your man cocktails when he gets home from work. Some households were extremely strict with their women. Women were not allowed to buy a house or buy a car until the 1970s. now we are back here again with white male dominance.
I was married at 20 for a brief period. The marriage was annulled due to incompatibility. The thoughts of some families were to marry their daughters off to a man to take care of them. If one is raised in this culture, you either accept it or rebel against the whit male patriarchy. I rebelled.
I am going to make this into a noticeably short story. My message to women of every culture do not let your man dominate you. Rebel against such nonsense. Men who want to control are very insecure and have severe mental issues of paranoia.
I would not have married the car race guy if my mom had not insisted, I needed to get married to fulfill her dream. I briefly accepted the mentality of that era. I was always in a fight or flight mode for many years.
I suggest to younger ladies do not succumb to the lunacy of a male patriarchal society.
My father was not like that. He wanted me to learn mechanical work. My mom was oh no I could not learn mechanics as I was prima donna girl. My dad and mom had an argument about that issue.
My philosophy is do not let anyone push you into marrying just to get married. Love is love. I am an ally of the LGBTQ people.
I now instruct people: we are one human being species with many cultures, ethnicities, languages, different skin pigmentation, and personalities.
What I learned through my years from 1949 to 2025 is do not let a man talk you into having his babies, especially if you just began to date. That is a red flag of dominance and how the misogynist sees your worth as a woman. I say block him on social media, refuse his phone calls, and ignore him if you see him out and about. Watch for red flags of narcissism in every relationship. If you are the narcissist then crumble the story, throw it away because a narcissist cannot change. If you are an empath, then stay as far away from the narcissist as you can. If you are not either of those personality types, then take heed to watch for red flags to prevent an abusive relationship.
My advice is to focus on your career, go to college, and refuse to acknowledge people who condescend you as a human being. Walk away from a future abusive relationship.
I was boy crazy at ten years old. I read teen magazines and idolized boys in the band. I matured young, as I began puberty at age ten. My advice to me would be to focus on writing for the teen magazine instead of being google eyed over the cuties in the band.
As of now I am 75 years old. I accepted a coffee date with an old guy. I told him someday soon. I have known him for two years. I want platonic relationships and at this age there is no intention of anything but friendship.
This concludes this short story, focusing on one aspect of my life among many others. I have a lot of stories to tell. I shall write them all one day. Perhaps I should include the X-rated too.
I have survived all those relationships as I have learned that I did not always make the right choices. As one grows up to maturity you learn to appreciate the times you made the correct choices and to always remember the consequences of making the wrong choices.

If you feel misunderstood, then analyze the situation or walk away.
Peace everyone!
Be yourself everyone!

Dear Unsealed,
I love the smell of the ocean.
I love to feel my toes in the sand.
It is a potion
Of a notion
As I walk upon this mountainous land
Of sand and sea and valleys
And alleys
Of sandcastles built upon the sand
Of our America land.
I cried today,
Along my paths highway
Of illusions
Of delusions
Of lies spewing from control freaks
Of tweakers and tweaks,
Of I just want to sit on the shore
Forevermore.
Look at the ocean.
Look at the sky,
Of notions
And potions.
I pray for peace to calm the turmoil
Of dictators and liars in high places,
That creates turmoil and hate and boils,
Of ugliness in all spaces.
I carve my peace of calm
On the beach,
To reach prayers of songs
To the universe to bring peace
As the calm after the storm
As the fisher in the boat of life,
Not of strife.
I sit on the shore,
Forevermore.
To smell the salty air, and the cries of the seagulls
As they fly up above
My head.
I see the ocean.
I see the beach,
Of I love the smell of the ocean
I love to feel my toes in the sand.
It is a potion,
Of a notion
As I walk upon this mountainous land
Of sand and sea and valleys
And alleys
Of sandcastles built upon the sand
Of our America land.
I cried today,
Along my paths highway
Of illusions
Of delusions
and potions.
As peace flows through my body
As I sit on the shore forevermore
To embrace the ocean
As a potion.
I love you my retreat
Away from mean peeps.
A retreat from hate,
Debate,
To relate,
We are all a part of earth,
Before birth and after birth
To death of all.
I pray we all learn,
The ocean way,
To yearn,
For love and truth.
I love you, ocean of dreams,
And schemes to cherish your embrace
Of romance
From birth
Tio my ashes
Are spread in the love
Forevermore
Upon the shore.

PEACE AND LOVE CONQUERS EVIL!

Movable joints, as if freshly greased.
My elbows and knees will move easily while I watch Sunsets in the East.
Silver shafts peak through honey brown, as if touched by a wand.
My hair will be healthy and shine even if I once was blonde.
Adrenaline shifts down to lower gears, even grinding to a halt.
My anxiety will melt away as I drink a strawberry malt.
Numbers steadily climb as they reach heights never dreamt of.
My bank account balance will stay full like the belly of a content dove.
Floating high into the clouds, light as a feather.
My heart will pitter patter as I read countless love letters.
Gravity bends light, and one can see for miles from atop the tallest mountain.
My pride will exude for my child from every cell as if it’s a perpetual fountain.
Spears, bullets and missiles soar through the atmosphere yet are deflected.
My armor will hold steady, and my inner peace will be protected.
Wood, stone, and concrete form a cocoon around a soft and warm oasis.
My heart will be content, as I learn to be satisfied with life’s basics.
Bombs diffuse as ancient frequencies encompass all that exists.
My ultimate wish comes true as I learn to surrender to life and simply no longer resist

Dear Unsealed,

I was going to make a long list,
Of at least
Ten goals to conquer
On my bucket list
Of proper
Stuff to do,
Write,
Create music as you
Write poetry,
Stories of life
The other goal
That worries my soul
To be so bold
As I hear at 75, I might lose
My social security and healthcare.
Beware
I was told today
So bold
By a friend
I would have to get a real job,
My art, my songs, my writing does not pay,
Here what I say
She said,
I looked at her and walked into my room,
Walk away today,
My goal is to tell anyone
To their face
That said to me give up your writing and all that,
Get a real job!
I texted her I do not need to be told
So bold,
What to do,
She made me blue,
Rolled off my shoulder,
As I am bolder
At 75,
Glad to be alive.
My one fun goal is to get a tattoo
Of a red rose
Painted on me by my cousin LA,
Prose and praise,
I will be so bold,
As I am old
To take a course in AI,
Maybe get certified,
Then money will flow,
But all the while
My dear child,
I cry out to naysayers,
Think how your words pierce my heart
As I am now making a new creative start.
My goals for 2025 are:
a. Let things naysayers slide off my shoulders.
b. Continue to create art, music, and writing.
c. Research taking course in AI to be certified to work professionally
d. BREATHE!
These are my immediate thoughts about my goals for 2025. There is a possibility that the new government in DC will cut our social security, health care and all entitlements as the billionaires talk destruction of our lives as we know it to create fear in everyone.
BREATHE!

Dear Unsealed,
2024 was and is forever changing directions around the world.
As I step up the ladder to look out at the world,
I slip,
I grip,
The sides of the ladder as it staggers slowly to the ground,
All around
The neighborhoods of America
We shout I care!
I kept my goals of diet, focusing, eating healthy and all the other goals I had proposed processing the exchange from 2023 to 2024. I wrote for The Unsealed and Vocal.
My newest accomplishment was writing and producing 18 songs after signing a contract with #distrokid online. That was not planned. I had music training beginning early in life. I utilize Suno AI, Invideo Ai, LTX studios AI, Sora AI to produce videos with my music to publish on you tube. I create music, words, and beats and all that from my heart and soul to make people happy or to talk about political issues through music. I discovered this is my new adventure.
I am still waiting on commissions from Vocal for this year. I am waiting for my royalties from my music. A goal for another story will be written soon.
2024 was a progressive year of changes, elections, and then the non-progressive election of a backwards society person to suppress women, the elderly, the vulnerable of our society. My answer to all of that malarky’ is I will remain who I am as a creative woman of elder age of 75.
The world watches all.
The world will see as the ball
Drops in Times Square 2024.
As before
We salute 2024,
We crash our drinks to 2025,
We are alive
To strive for rainbows,
Not illusions of unicorns,
But truth, freedom, and to be born
To spread love across the world
Of the good, the bad, the ugly.
As I type on my pc to be a ladybug
Of character of values to flow
Across from 2024 to 2025,
More songs, stories, poems, art
Not farts.
So, I summarize my eccentric rant of 2024
As each year goes forward
My music and contract with #distrokid were my unexpected 2024 goal that came true as I walked the path of the year transformation from dark to light.
So bright,
So very light,
Breathe!

Dear Unsealed,
As a young child I was diagnosed with what they called a “lazy eye.” I was only three or 4 or 5. Those toddler Esotropia runs in families and usually requires surgery to correct. Acquired esotropia occurs in children usually between the ages of 2 and 5. Eyeglasses can usually correct it. seem to conjugate into one perimeter of I was too young to begin wearing glasses.
My mom had surgery on her eye, not mine. I found out later in life when my mom was alive. She explained to me that she could not deal with it, so she had surgery instead of me. I was deeply hurt as I was young and dealing with bullying not her as a grown woman. I loved my mom and always will but that hurt deeply. I learned to forgive her and move on without anger and buy more frames to accompany my wardrobe.
I told my mom I could not see well and was embarrassed about my left eye because the kids were making fun of my disability. My mom was incredibly sad as she had the same eye ailment. We can see but need glasses.
At three, four, and five I was a gregarious spontaneous combustion running around the house, playing with my Kachina dolls, my baby dolls, my mudpies and least of all of these was pretending that the toads were my friends. I was an adventurous child of sorts, and my glasses were in the way, but what was really in the way was I could not see well without my glasses. So, my glasses became a part of my wardrobe, and I had to learn to fit my glasses into my daily routine of trees, toads, and Kachina dolls.
The truth is that the significance of learning to respect and wear my glasses taught me survival and how cruel young toddlers can be. My favorite little boy on the block in our 1950s neighborhood was accepting of my disability. Back in those days people who wore glasses were called four eyes. That is a debilitating bigotry condition of certain types of personalities of certain human beings. I learned to go with the flow. My grandpa Boss was with me teaching me to read and write and music.
Those days are gone now.
I remember a little girl who was so sweet.
I remember a little girl who was so neat.
I remember a little girl who was me,
To be
Grown one day,
Along the way
As I was now a 21-year-old young lady growing up in the crazy seventies entering college after nursing school at age 19. I had a pair of frames to match every outfit in my closet.
Later I began to wear contacts mixing it up with different frames and lots of sunshades.
Now at 75, I am wearing contacts again mixing them up with different frames and reading glasses and computer glasses.
Old habits are a positive virtue in the case of a young toddler beginning to wear glasses to see carrying on to an elder age.
I now look back.
React,
To my younger self of creative play.
Today
I still suffer from lazy left eye syndrome, strabismus, astigmatism, and far-sightedness but hey folks I am human, and we are all with disabilities of some kind. We are human.
As an artist, writer, lyricist and elder I thank the Universe for supplying me with perseverance, longevity, patience, and intellectual capabilities that have helped me continue walk my life path.
To someone else reading this who might say it is no big deal, it is a big deal to a toddler and to humanity that has given humans the ability and ambition to overcome obstacles as they walk their path in their life.
My glasses and contacts are woven together into a web of sight and creativity overcoming the obstacles of a toddler in the 1950s era of bigotry and judgmental style cultures of America at that time.
The learning concave ability of learning to live with strabismus or “crossed eyes”. I had one crossed eye, and I grew up overcoming my disability by wearing many different frames. However, the stigma of bullying that was present in those days has left a scar inside my intellect that I still have to work through with my therapist.
However, I am over the four eyes syndrome bullying. I love my glasses and can shop online and offline looking at cool frames to offset my wardrobe.

Dear Unsealed,
My faith keeps me sane.
There are many twists & turns in my life.
I will be 75 on September 18, 2024.
As one that goes before
Gen Z and other decades I have many stories to tell
As deep as an old wishing well.
I worked at The LA Times,
All day every day.
I met my kid’s dad,
Which turned out to be very sad.
He did not work there.
His twin did.
I met Jekyll & Hyde, I did
But blew it off,
Threw salt over my shoulder for a start.
Neither were in journalism or writing or art.
They were both security guards.
Oh lordy!
As an empath I dated a narcissistic guard
Who pretended to care,
Wined & dined me.
So, it would be
I was so naïve.
Well, that would be I had two C-Sections.
Both were ten pound babies,
One was born 1983,
The other was born 1987,
The year before my mom went to heaven.
This was a marriage of two boomers in the 80s.
The father was from south LA.
The mom is from North Hollywood,
Of her own hood.
I am of worldly DNA.
He is a Black Republican narcissist.
He is a gun loving nut.
He is a woman hater.
So, when I found out he lied to me profusely everyday
Along the way of the everyday
Way, we trod to different roads and ways,
Of how I was so naïve.
I was into college and looking forward of being a reporter soon.
But he manipulated me as a man into marrying him.
He wined & dined my parents under the moon
In REDONDO BEACH pier,
Only to smear
My mom’s name after she died of a massive heart attack 1988.
When he told me he hated my mom & glad she was dead
I cried for days.
My heart was broken that day
I found out he was cheating on me,
It had to be,
More lies!
I traveled to Palm Springs with my boyfriend. I left the boys at their dad’s mom’s house. Upon arriving back to my Burbank apartment, I found out my ex, the kids dad and his twin had locked me out because I vacationed in Palm Springs. I cried for hours.
My plan was to pick the boys up from their grandma’s house. When I called my ex, I was banned from seeing them. He told me I was a bad mom. He spent over 30 grand on a divorce attorney. I spent 600 bucks on my Montgomery Ward attorney. It was a horrific divorce. I loved my boys very much, but the courts took my kids and placed them with their narcissistic dad.
The turning point was when I chose to go on a vacation with my movie boyfriend to celebrate my birthday in the year of 1989.
My ex is still trying to turn my boys and now my grands against me because I am a liberal boho hippie chick who still is an empath, a liberal, equality for all, for gun control and education for all.
I accept the fact that he is holding my personality and belief systems against me. He once told me during the divorce that he had to blame me for everything because he was perfect and wanted to keep his job.
I began with a poem and a prose as I have my entire life but the seriousness of the 1980s events changed my life more than anyone will ever know.
I continued to work in the music and film industry moving forward. I was a union rep for the IATSE at Universal Studios Hollywood, worked freelance for three newspapers, and continued my educational pursuits until I was 51 years old.
However, when I told my grown boys the truth, they were angry with me, calling me a liar. It did not end well. Now my ex, my two boys want to shut me down politically and as a human being. This is probably because I tell the truth, and you do not push a narcissist into the wall because they sting like a honeybee and dig into the person spreading their venom across states and other humans. I have been in therapy for many years. I am much better now. The turning point from being a good mother to becoming a bad human as my ex called me in 1989 was shocking and like a horror film.
I watched a movie from the 80s called, “The Good Mother”, a 1988 movie about a divorced mom with a daughter who meets an artist, and her ex gets custody of the child. The movie is available on Prime Video.
I pray every day for peace, love, & understanding. I will continue my humanitarian activist ways!

Dear Unsealed,
My mottos are from my favorite lady Maya Angelou
“IF you’re always trying to be normal, you will never know how amazing you can be”
“You nay not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them”
La vita è bella
I want to share
To the world
The big ball of Earth
Spinning in the sky
My looking forward poem that so relates to my favorite lady poet, Maya Angelou as it similar to my motto of moving forward through the storms.
I found this poem I wrote in 1967 or 1968. I suppose I was beyond my years at that time of my life’s journey. I found out one must ‘carry on’ through the storms that our universe sends us or that we casually ‘bump’ into along the roads we choose throughout our lifetime.
Despite the nays and the ‘you can’t do that’ or ‘you are not college material’ suggestions from a friend of yesteryear. I was already in college, so I tossed her suggestion away into yesterday’s trash bin. Because she knew not how or when or where or what she was talking about.
There are different roads to choose as we reach each decade of our life’s journey in time. I chose the road of different avenues and boulevards along the straight path cause’ I was curious. I don’t regret studying nursing and healthcare. I don’t regret studying union management. I don’t regret studying journalism, art, and film. Now I have so many stories to tell. I have so many songs to write. The avenues and boulevards I strolled down off the beaten straight path taught me lessons to remember in my next lifetime of creation and light.
So, I will share my poem from my back pages of 57 years ago in another time period before computers, cell phones, and AI. Each decade presented a new chapter in my life of fun, work and strife. I don’t look back and say how bad I was for different relationships or different guys in my life each decade. We all meet people along the way. Some people will stay. Some people will go. That’s life in a ‘nutshell’ with detours; the good, the bad, the ugly and the absolutely beautiful scenarios that happened that make me laugh, cry and ‘jump for joy’ in time and space of our universe to live, love and spread light.
“LOOK FORWARD”
Written by Vicki Lawana Trusselli 1967
It’s been a long life,
Had a whole lot of learning.
Had a good time,
But there’s still that yearning.

There’s been bad times
When the way looked dim
I prayed and hoped for better.
Yes, I prayed to her or him. (“God is omnipotent of all genders.”)

Tears have come and gone.
Heartaches I’ve had great,
But each new tomorrow
Opens a new gate.

This gate is bright and shiny.
This gate opened my heart
When I’ve gone wrong
To help me make a new start.

The dark clouds appear,
To which there seems no end
But pray and hope things will change,
That they want be like they’ve always been.

Look forward with a smile
When the end seems near
Don’t give up hope
Just dry that tear,

For your life will change
When you hope and pray
And try and try more each day,
Just over the rainbow there’s a brand-new day.
La vita è bella

You are stronger and wiser than you know
Your thoughts are stalking you
do not queue any hue that’s not meant for you
People’s opinions of you are their own.
You are stronger than you were yesterday.
continue to forgive yourself for not being able to control the horrific actions of others.
Self-love is necessary for your healing.
It is putting you back together whole and true.
forgive any past actions by acknowledging how they have not served you well.
You will continue to trust the process and your progress.
You will not let the fear of being taken advantage of scare you to stillness.
You will stand up for yourself and tell the truth.
You will do it with dignity and respect.
You will be vulnerable even when it makes you uncomfortable.

Dear Unsealed,
I have learned so many things about life. I will be 75 years old on September 18, 2024. I have seen it all, the good, the bad, the ugly and still move forward with life for as long as I can live out my life with my disabilities of getting old. My brain works well, but my body has slowed down a lot since I had covid 2021.
The major life lesson I have learned is that I should not let guys talk me into fast romance or marriage or moving in on the third date. That may sound ‘wacky,’ but it truly is more helpful to not be boy crazy beginning at 8 years old. I had my first boyfriend at 8 years old. His name was Eric. He was in my second-grade class. We were friends so I thought, then he broke up with me. I ran into my parents’ house crying like a baby. Mom thought that I was physically hurt. I yelled at her, “Mom, Eric broke up with me. He told me to leave him alone. He did not like me. My hair was too curly. I was so upset, mom, I peed in my pants.” Mom looked at me rolling her eyes, tossed her head back, “My dear child, it’s going to be okay. Eric and his parents are moving to New York City next week. Eric broke up with you because he is a baby too and that is the only way he knew to move without hurting you. You have your whole life ahead of you, Vicki.” I sighed, “Okay mom.”
Growing up in eight decades, I kept falling in love and out of love not learning my lessons. My advice to the world is to continue your education. Do not let a ‘dude’ talk to you out of going to college. Do not let jealous people knock your dreams into the dirt. More than once the person trying to crush your dreams is a jealous, fearful person who does not care about you. Follow your dreams of life and focus on yourself as a woman. One needs to love oneself to fully love someone another human being as to live with another human being.
I was raped at 16 years old by five guys on the football team. I had to sweep it under the rug and try to wash away the scariest party night I had ever experienced. The guys were calling me an Indian squaw, stupid ‘whore’, and yelling, “You are no good.” I was devastated.
I kept dating men but had not learned the lesson that I did not need a man.
I studied art, journalism, Business union management, computers, and other subjects of interest. Boys were always barking up my tree. I should have been pickier or just lived by myself.
I married in the 80s. I had no plans for marriage at 30 nor to have children at that time. He swindled me into marrying him and having babies. The lesson I learned from that disastrous marriage is we had nothing in common and I should have ignored the ‘dude’.
We divorced, but I remarried an artist this time. That ended in April 2000 in domestic violence,
After we divorced, I had all these musicians barking up my alley. I followed one to Austin, Texas. I left an excellent job in computers with good retirement. He moved back to LA, and I stayed because my auntie was in her 90s and I wanted to be with her. A lesson from this is my family in Austin were strangers to me. I had not seen them in 40 years. Never move across country on a whim to follow a ‘dude’ to his destiny when it’s probably not your destiny. Check your family out that are strangers and only remember you as a little curly headed throwing tantrums child. Just because they are family does not mean they are your best friend.
I got involved with a ‘dude’ who moved in with me after the third date. I do not advise anyone to do that. I collaborated with the man.
My letter will end here as the chapters of my life are extensive with heartache, pain, joy, laughs, and life ‘happens’ experiences.
My final note to the world is, “As a woman please do not let men interfere with your beauty or your well-being. If they show one bit of jealousy or start dictating your life to you, walk away before the years pass and you say at 74, “OMG! I wish I would ‘of’ or could ‘of’ known about life before all those broken relationships of wrongdoing men ever came into fruition. Watch for red flags to not get involved with a narcissist person period.”