I need a MacBook Pro. My MacBook Air is not equipped for the audio and video WORK I must do in order to make my SIDE hustle my ONLY hustle. DON'T LET THIS PANDEMIC CATCH YOU SLEEPING.

Sex trafficking is on the damn rise, right here in New Jersey. I write; I market; I work from home. It's what I do and have been doing for over a decade. I need to make my money so I can help these kids AND support myself, since #MeToo is not. I've got a video on Facebook Live right now proving that no one in this little city I've become quite comfortable in over the last almost 30 years would raise an eyebrow for a neighborhood pedophile. Mmm-hmm.


My $175 MacBook Air is out of warranty and also can't handle the  HUGE audio and video editing I have to do for both my website and podcast for #EAHWP - Everything at Home with Patricia, the bipolar Martha Stewart.
Pardon me if I repeat myself; I'm living on just hours of sleep and I have a Facebook Live at 11:30 PM EST tonight to explain what I did yesterday, walking down the street with a bat trying to protect a neighborhood that I can no longer live in.

Thees are my old MacBook stats
MacBook Air (13-inch, Early 2015)
1.6 GHz Dual-Core Intel Core i5
Intel HD Graphics 6000 1536 MB
only 8 GB 1600 MHz DDR3

Registered right here in Bergen County, Hackensack New Jersey in April 2020, Everything at Home with Patricia, along with the companion podcast is not SELLING anything. It's a community project I'm paying for and hosting myself to distribute information that the neighborhood is clearly missing; and also to share with my neighbors the things they've asked me to find or look out for, for them. Working from home isn't new to me. Been doing this for decades. 

I got this MacBook from my job last year when we were upgrading to Pros. I didn't want to buy a brand new one because at the time I was a Dell girl. Buying a cheap one was a good way to test it, and I didn't have to switch back and forth between work and my own work. I LOVE Apple. I got a refurbished 8+ iPhone and I WON an iPad. So I got the trifecta pretty cheap. I'm frugal; how I was raised. Anywho...

I have DATA that can stop or at least slow this. COVID IS NOT the pandemic. PEDOPHILIA is the pandemic. IT HAS. NEVER STOPPED AND IT GROWS RAPIDLY AND CONSISTENTLY.

Imagine if we paid even a quarter of the attention to sexually abused children that we do shaking dogs when Sarah is singing that Arms of the Angel song. Today for the first time ever, I was disgusted by that commercial. Because if we put a picture of a of sexually abused child in the same placeholders as the puppies and kittens, you'd turn the channel and walk away. So help me, if I see one single solitary #MeToo coming from Hackensack for the next week, I'm gonna cry. Stop hashtagging and help these kids. You care more about puppies and paper bags than the children that will grow up to feed your families, drive you around, run companies...or might duplicate what they suffered. You can't just leave us out here roaming around just hoping to "move on". I'm glad I turned out the way I have but not everyone is so lucky. 

And the first step is DATA that can CEASE doctors telling kids that they are "BEING DRAMATIC" when they say for years, decades, a LIFE SPAN that they cannot sleep, or something is wrong. I can now PROVE how THIS affects CHILDREN (boys and girls) for a lifetime, and with that data, we can DETECT, DIAGNOSE AND TREAT mental health issues before...45 years later, when  I couldn't retire if I lived to 109. , That's NOW. Not FOREVER. I've got work to do. I forget things now in the middle of a sentence. I'm not "just forgetful". I'm only 52. Elevate and the Balance App have helped greatly. Really.

"Oh girl, don't you have a friend or ...?"

Don't even, please! I HATE HAVING TO POST THIS. I DON'T HAVE 1 SINGLE SOLITARY SOUL WHO'D GIVE A POOP.  I don't borrow and I don't lend. That's how I was raised and my BFF of 35 years can attest it's true.  BEING RAISED IN THE PRESENCE OF THESE MEN TAUGHT ME NEVER TO OWE ANYBODY.  IJN I manifest it.

I've never been in a relationship and felt unsafe or threatened and I attribute some of that to not owing anyone a damn thing. I'd rather be homeless than have someone else pay MY rent. You know what I'm saying?

Anyway, I'm a professional. If I did have someone to ask, would I do this? I sent a text asking my old boss and BFF for a carton a cigarettes, and still have no answer even though we're on Facebook every day, so I think not.

You cannot UNSEE what's coming next so you can stop now if you want to.

Don't misunderstand. I have shaving cream all over my 140 inch windows so I can sit or sleep without prying eyes. I know I could get frosting and all, but I'm not working in here anymore. I'm out. Pedophiles are everywhere. I know that. And so are sex offenders. However, my f*cking issue is, how do we know if an offender is registered or not, if ALL THE MEN AND THE WOMEN in our neighborhoods won't even take a look to be on notice of this man in the presence of children! I knew no one was going to give me his name. I only knew where he worked because last week I went to the Giant Farmers Market and he ran like a raccoon caught in the garbage when I was passing his shop. Otherwise I wasn't even looking at or for him. He knows I am not afraid. I want to be a lure as on To Catch a Predator and I demand that show comes BACK. I want to work behind the scenes. This is ridiculous!

Dude only jerked off to me because he didn't recognize me as his neighbor ACROSS THE STREET. I weighed 179 lbs (size 16) now weigh just 110 fully clothed (size 4 Levis gettin baggy; youth extra small tshirt covers to my waist; even my sketchers are too big - I didn't know feet got smaller!). He thought I was a child. I AM SO THANKFUL, THAT, ONCE AGAIN, IT WAS ME because a child can't UNSEE that. I didn't call the police or anything. I just know 2 things:

1. I live across the street from a pedophile.
2. The neighbors I live near right now, do not care for or protect women or children.

BOTTOM LINE: I CANNOT LIVE HERE ANYMORE and it's the perfect time to own. Barbara Cochran even said so, but I already knew.  I'm so sorry but it's not because I'm stuck up or think leaving will change it. I giggle when I say this, but I WANT WHAT WENDY WILLIAMS DESCRIBES AS a condo unit on a high floor, a doorman and one way in, and one way out. I just have to tweak it out because I'm tired of living with stepladders! I'm SHHHHHORT!   The one condo I looked at that had dropped dramatically was stunning, 2 beds, 2 baths that you walk through like a carwash. Even had GAS stove!! But I realize why the hard time selling it. Who the heck would buy a condo on the 17th floor and not be allowed a washer and dryer? I'm tired of having to get dressed and go outside when I want to some air and sunshine. Being bipolar, the SAD thing just recently started messing with me again  because of the shorter days.

The same men who *holler* at me when I'm out to get groceries or whatever, are the very same men who REFUSED to even look at a video of the perpetrators to just be AWARE of him. I didn't want anyone to kick his ass, he's shorter than me and his friend is skinny. We should just KNOW who is in our neighborhood.

Because it starts so innocently and the next thing you know, that friendly man who mommy makes you call friggin' Uncle This and Uncle That has other plans, and sadly, adults are the ones who deliver us right to them.

That Epstein dude? PUHLEEZ, honey! He was LATE to the game. See that old photo? THE ADULT BEHIND THE CAMERA AND MY MOTHER DELIVERED MY ONLY-CHILD ASS WHOSE DAD HAD JUST DIED 2 YEARS PRIOR, INTO THIS. I am  an only child so there was no one else to even know what was happening. The people I had access to and *could* tell were the ones doing it. So I was rescued by school. I did well in school, mostly A's, loved poetry and wrote and wrote and wrote. Since I had no one to tell who was DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT (including teachers, counselors, neighbors, store owners, kids I was friends with - you couldn't shut me up) I wrote.  I recently bought a Logitech Crayon because I realized I was missing out on writing in my applications instead of typing on my iPad.

I found photos of me in a light blue outfit that can only be described as The Prostitute Starter set, complete with a blue sheath, and then a faux fur white collared shrug kinda top that tied at the waste. I remember wearing it to school and my teachers looking at me like WHOTF dressed this child like that? Before, I dressed like a normal kid with rainbow stuff on and Pro Keds and white jeans, listening to Billy Joel.

I did NOT want to go outside in it, but there we went again. What the hell was up with taking pictures OUTSIDE with these guys? The only way I can explain it, is that when I was around them it almost felt like I was with the mafia. Because no one looked. No one thought I looked strange with these grown men on corners taking photos?  Guess they were nature lovers. I don't know where all the pictures ended up and I don't care. I am still here.

Then it crept into my home. Mom would yell, "Going downstairs to do laundry, honey" which was weird because normally *I* did the laundry *and* neither of us *ever* stayed downstairs to watch it. No one was stealing clothes and we knew when to go back down. ❗️Something was up.

After half an hour, my door slid open. I was coloring or something or playing with a suntan barbie I had. It was really sunny that afternoon. 

Later when I tried to explain to my mother what happened, that I clearly couldn't have concocted because I didn't know men put their mouths THERE at that age, she called me a liar and that was that. 

I knew not to "complain" any more. Before she died I asked her, while she smoked a cigarette at the dining room table, "Why did you let it happen to me? Why did you even have me?" And she curtly said, "It happened to me. Get over it." And then I felt sorry. I wished then that she had longer to live because maybe my asking HER questions about what SHE went through would have helped to heal HER heart. Even now, after years of being angry (no therapy - never had the freedom from work - but I'm doing a real silent retreat soon!) I understand it was different then. There was no Oprah saying it was ok to talk about it. My generation was encouraged to speak; hers wasn't. 

Still I thought her generation would at least speak up for the NEXT ONE. Mine. I never had or wanted children because the thought of me ending up in jail for protecting my child if I had to, and leaving him or her out here without me; I couldn't handle that. A child needs a mother with OPEN EYES to survive today. I can't produce a child that would enter this world and be without me. Now I want to move my mom and dad closer to me; from the VA cemetery to the one here in Hackensack so I can visit them.

So I give you that backstory not at all for sympathy. I want you to know why a grown-ass woman doesn't have a mere $3k to pay for my own damn MacBook. This isn't about a new toy. It's about work. I can't even get my website finished and up fast enough - it would have been done by now but my insomnia affected my thoughts and attention span. It's hard even typing this. I'm sure I've been redundant somewhere. I am really sorry. I only had 5 hours sleep - but that's the best I've had in months so I am glad. I'll get a good night's rest tonight, too.

I can't get my affiliate links up if my site isn't up. It's the holidays. I can earn rent so I will not be evicted when this COVID rent moratorium is up.

I've lost every single job I've ever had and I've earned well so that when I lose it, I can stay float. 

All my life, I know for sure so many people have wondered, "What's wrong with her? She's friendly, got no kids, and she just keeps losing jobs.. I bet you she's tripping at work or cussing people out or something." I would have probably thought the same if I tell the truth. I didn't know then how BAD my "little insomnia" was until my devices kept sending me notices. Like I was winning badges and challenges in my FitBit group, but I was in the house the whole time.

I work well, always have and jobs love me and give me great references every time. Because when I'm in the manic phase, I am producing reports at 2 in the morning, getting to work at 10, up all night and doing it over and over until one day I wake up at 5 in the evening. Thinking it's morning. Or don't wake up for 2 days. Or 3 days.

I never knew ANY of this before the pandemic. I only wore my devices like jewelry because I was working. Now, wearing them practically 24/7 I have an inside look at my life. Like just this week, I fell "asleep" for 59 minutes, "woke" up and went about. I thought I'd slept a full night or at least a few hours. 

My FitBit alerted me later to the disturbing stats. So even when I THINK I'm fully awake, I could exhibit symptoms of exhaustion, even drunkeness. Severe leg craps from dehydration.

No job can tolerate that for so long, when we can't count on me to get where I need to be on time. Or when I discover on my nanny cam that I bought a month ago that one time, it took me SEVEN HOURS to leave my apartment. You know the Vraylar commercial? It was like that. 

How would I ever know that if I lived alone all my life? As long as when I do get out the house, I look like me and I talk to neighbors like normal, they don't know how long it took. Jeans and a tshirt, I look like I just ran out the house. Might have had to find it, wash it, dry it, OMG. How many outfits on the floor, etc. So I can't even blame anyone for not recognizing it. But my brain has GOT to be suffering from this kind of stress, and I can EARN my condo on Prospect (I was IN IT, ya'll for pictures - I MANIFEST) in a safe building high up with a view of my home town, New York. It's right on the bus line so I can still not need a car. I don't want to be driving now. And I don't need help. I can earn my lifestyle. I always do. But I need my MacBook Pro to do it.

I'm going to buy it outright so I will never ever be concerned about WHERE I can write again. Facing East so I wake up with the sun and the sunset on the other side. And up high enough where I can sit outside with a cup of coffee, write and do my thing. I do not want much.

52440226_1604888394198355_r.jpegGet me a MacBook Pro, please - I'll do the rest. Thank you for listening and pardon any typos. Siri's fault.

Breaks my heart that no one would help that girl.

AND NEXT - I'm getting a dragon tattoo  (joking - THE MOVIE SERIES, few will get that joke )


  • Joan Garry 
    • $50 
    • 7 d
  • Anonymous 
    • $20 
    • 7 d
  • Rosalyn Holland 
    • $20 
    • 18 d


Patricia Nixon 
Hackensack, NJ
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