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Chloe Gundst (drchloe)

Joined 23 months ago from Las Vegas. Last activity 6 days ago.

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In the beginning there may have been darkness, a void that covered the spanse of space and time.  Some happiness existed, though in my life I never knew the beginning or what little it is of which I know of the beginning now I never knew then.  When you don't know your beginning, you have to grab the ball and run with it, well, I did.

I don't like naming names here, I get paid to create advertising, I don't give it away. Everyone in my little person life had a story about how it was they came to be a part of my life.  Every step parent was a birth parent for me intending one course of action albeit short-lived. I had more birth mothers, birth sisters, birth fathers than anyone I've met so far but I doubt I hold any record.  When all the birth parents were dead, I collected up all their death certificates and various other matters and abstracts of identity traipsing the whole kit and kaboodle to vital statistics where my own birth records had been sealed since I was a very tiny person.  Though, I don't want to disclose all the details, suffice it to say that I walked away with enlightenment.  Not one of my birth parents matched in any wise enough of the names and identities of the people named on my sealed, unchanged unmarred birth document. 

Since some of the so called birth parents I had been told were my birth parents were not very nice to me, and some of the so called blood birth sisters were examples of the reason there was a Twilight Zone my first reaction was a jingle from a commercial that hummed in my mind, "plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it is.". I had no sorrow, suffered no agony, I had relief!  Almost every so called birth parent in my life gave me another name! The only reason it was always so easy to know my own essence was because I kept another advertisement of a television show humming through my head, " secret agent man (okay I put in girl later woman for the word man), secret agent man they've given you a number and taken way your name." I never identified with any name tagged on me, it was all too abstract.  

My first job as a spy, that is collecting money for taking intelligence from a business or government came about when I was 18. I was in a garment district because I knew how to design clothes when a man whom I asked for a job from told me that there was one way he'd pay me money.  He told me that he would give me over one thousand dollars cash to put in my pocket and keep if I did the job. He said that I needed to figure out a way to walk in to one of those businesses in the district and walk out with the next season's line of design. That afternoon I walked away with over one thousand dollars cash in my pocket.  I walked through several shops looking at the workers sewing on heavy commercial machines racks of clothing, desks, sketches, blue prints, sepias, patterns sketched on boards then I saw it.  Without looking up to see if anyone was watching I pushed the entire rack out on the sidewalk and down the street past other shops until I reached the door where the man I met earlier promised me all that money sat.  He looked at me, he didn't look like he was going to make good on his promise, but within a few minutes of looking at the goods I wheeled in, he reached into his wad of cash and counted one thousand dollars and pulled a wad beyond the thousand from his great big wad of green. 

 

Every family gave me a new name. My own names, but one time I watched a movie listening to the old fellow speak about telling lies using different identities, and keeping it all straight, he said that most people couldn't do it and less than that could do it well.  But, in my life I have known the difference of whomever was asking about me, or had only heard of me not from me; I know which side of midnight they come from, and my age as well as the part of the world I stood on by the name they referred to me by.  I learned early never to confirm that information just to realize I have always had the upper hand by the way my name was spoken.  From a name used about me I can almost pinpoint who said it, at least I have a lot of information from one or three words my name I gave them or they heard. Believe me, I made a lot of money using my skill set of identifying backwards.  I would tell you more but I'd have to kill you, so with all that information I know I am not in compromise, I know I can tell you the rest of my little story as follows:

I was born on a military ship in international waters in 1958. An only child of parents that were both only children, from a line of 'only children' in my genealogy.  Mother died giving birth to me, six months later after sailing on a vessel to transport my dead mother's body and getting me to the next country, where the vessel ported--with a broken heart, my father died.   One person, a navy lieutenant sworn in as officer was a lawyer, and my parents' best friend. He was also aboard the same ship.  

My parents had named him my Catholic birth sponsor, though I hardly knew him in my life. He swore out in testimony with notarized documentation, he was there and saw my mother give me birth. He also saw my mother die.  He suffered the loss of his friend, my father, who died about Christmastime.   

Mother was from Copenhagen Denmark, though she was Catholic and came from a line of Catholics, her great great grand mother was a Jewish woman who fell in love with a Catholic man.  My mother converted to Catholic before she married my father, a Catholic from Oslo Norway, who had a great, great, great, great, great grandfather from Italy. So, I was about a 90th this and a 90th that, but parentless not an orphan.   

The word on the ship was different, I was a ship's orphan.   A military brat, I was schleped around.   As an infant, it was easy to find families who wanted to keep me, but times changed.  Vikings and the life of Vikings were very different than the Americans and the Danish. I had royalty, Monarchy, Democracy, Socialism, and Dictatorship transferring energies for the lead in my life. There were families and there was war.   There were good intentions pervaded by discoloration of political threat.  No one was really bad, if I think about it based on their own cultural standards, and the war-torn times. 

A Swedish family tried to adopt me.  Be that as it may, it was all because they couldn't produce children of their own. The good Lord then blessed them with two live births in the early sixties!  They no longer longed to adopt children, the adoption and full custodial rights were relinquished.

The good old lawyer, my Catholic birth sponsor, Dominic D'Marco, showed up to save the day.  He  used money from some fund from my own wealthy, parents' deaths, and spared me from being a wayward child. I shipped in and out, educated by private tutors, which is not glamourous leaving the student alone, very alone.

A woman was hired to do the raising of me, but she was silenced from talking to me about my life, or to anyone else.  I traveled to Norway, Denmark, and many places giving up friend and lifestyles because life is as one nun told me, 'a letting go process.'   Travel is not always fun or good, especially military, and as I grew older rules and stipulations made the most arduous travel risky and limited.

My birth was recorded thirteen days after my birth on a ship at sea as an American by birth, papers recorded confidential in ports in the USA.   At six years old I donned kitted white gloves, white bobby socks, a navy blue suit, black patten leather shoes, and a little hat marching in a parade for the American Legion of the Untied States of America. Thus my life in the limelight of politics and military evolved.   There were other families and cultures white families that were genetically black or African American, Austrian, Northern European, Hebrew, Greek, German, Heinz 57, and French Canadian besides the Danish and Norwegian who all took part in raising me.  

 

As a child, I had no siblings, yet I had many, many siblings.  As strangers we met, evolved, shared emotional experiences, ideals, dreams, anger, disappointments, and the letting go process.     My own father had been a psychiatrist, my mother was in military intelligence.  

Nevertheless, the Catholic convent is to be accredited for sparing me a youthful life of detention centers and drug rehab, so common in the early seventies.

My education could have been counted in either basket, the blessing or the petition, at certain points. Not because I was deprived an education, but because I was censured one.  As a young girl, television, radio, and news was withheld from my life.  I was disallowed to watch the national or international news, if the planet was destroyed it was meant to be at any rate, so permitting me the knowledge of politics or religion from current events could do me no good.

As a very young girl, I learned to hunt, fish, garden, design clothing, cook, bake, and walk a runway, later after Dostoyevsky, I walked away from the runway into the business world. Twelve people reported to me working directly for me in my first business venture, and though I kept food on their tables and textbooks in the hands of their children,  I was far from the woman I intended to become.  I left that business at the age of twenty heading off for college where I was sure I would better prepare for my illustrious career.

Life finds most people in three separate lines of work by the age of retirement or post-retirement, statistically.  My three lines of work divided from advertising and marketing,  law, and psychology, but I could be overlooking spying,  head hunting,  writing, dog walking,  and numerous other strategical designs necessary to maneuver through the big picture called life.  I hold a master's and doctorate in psychology, research and development in social and experimental areas.  Criminal profiling, analyzing characters on and off stage as well as politically, an intense study in srxual criminal deviant behaviors, being part of locking up several people for life or desth penalties, and the confusing line of separating from being sensitive for families who have lost their children and family members to senseless criminal acts drove me to an esrly retirement, offering my expertise as a consultant only.

I've topped that off with a B.S. in Theology in Pastoral Counseling with the last book I published in 2009 on Meeting Objectives through Journaling.  I'm in the process of another book in the area of psychology. During those years, I worked from an area near White Sands on observations of the cartel in Ciudad Juarez Mexico. At the time there were eleven thousand dead bodies,  five thousand women,  as President Obama cut all funding stating that he was not going to declare an emergency regarding the Borders of Mexico.  Decapitated heads were lined up along the road of a family of five, every week someone would stand up in church crying over the deceased grandchild or child, but there was no state of emergency. 

I'm civilian trained by military to work for military or in civilian life.  I've cracked every rib in my ribcage at least once, taken a bullet through the organs, hit my head, banged up most parts, had over one hundred stitches to various parts of my body, won the single female senior citizen dance contest, saved at least five people's lives, rescued more than that in search and rescue, worked on missions in third world countries,  volunteered over sixteen thousand hours, bought my way through, talked my way through, fought my way through, and cried my way through life, but most of all I have laughed and danced.  I was never the stripper on the pole, but from ballet to ballroom, jazz ballet and a semi-professional small dance company just to keep my head on straight through all the insanity and propoganda.  

 I don't ask for it all to be easy.  I've been trained to shut up, everyone is classified somehow. I grew up with a complex believing I killed my mother, taking my life for the price of hers.  I got over it on someone like Freud's couch one day after I mourned putting my dog down.  I think about finding a partner in crime to go old with because people live longer when they have one another,  but don't know if I can actually be the partner,  I'm so set in my ways living alone. I don't care for drugs or I would have them and use them,  I just like drinking.   In fact, I haven't driven in years because I am legally blind, though I see quite well with a computer screen so I don't miss it. My next job will have to provide a car and driver, that's all.

 Okay, you have me all figured out, please continue to read my publications, and follow my productions.   Thank you for taking time to peruse my entry.  Chloe

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