Archive for October, 2010

he does have his own videos

October 31, 2010

12:41 AM 10/31/10

I’ll write while I’m waiting for this. I’m downloading Curtis’s video. I haven’t been able to play Carrie’s video on my iPod using wi-fi. I decided to see what happens when I play it at home. I went to her page and saw a link to Curtis’s page. It showed a picture of him in the Halloween costume that I liked so much. I actually dug my speakers out of the closet so that I could hear them talking. I tested it and Carrie’s video was working. I had to test it on hers first because I was too excited to try doing anything with Curtis’s video yet.

I looked on Google to find out about saving Flash files. I’m not sure if I’m able to do it, but I might be. It downloads them into a cache, and if they really are in the cache, I should be able to find it and save it. According to the theory. I don’t know if it will work. Yes, I’m competent enough to do things like that with my computer, but I don’t know if it really is saving it to the cache or not, and I’ll have to find the cache, and the file type, and find out if I’m able to replay it again. I might be able to find the file but not have any way to replay it once I’ve found it. I might not know how to command Flash to start up and play the file.

Right now he’s playing with the camera’s special effects while stoned. He hasn’t actually spoken yet.

He finally made his facebook page private. I looked at it today. I’m not sure what made him finally decide to do it after I’ve asked him to do it over and over again, but he did. Today, when I first saw that it was now private, I had the hurt/rejected feeling. However, I am just going to do whatever ‘they’ force me to do. That means that they will decide when I go try to see him again, if I try at all. This isn’t something that I have a choice about. Whenever I try to let go, I get constantly attacked until they force me to do something else.

They have this sort of scary/creepy thing on their video camera software that lets you operate a puppet face using your own face. It has a picture of something, like a dog, or a teddy bear, or a statue, and the videocamera watches your facial expressions while you talk, and it controls the puppet to make it move the same way.

So, I never saw this before, because on the mobile website, it doesn’t show you the links to Carrie’s friends.

Oh no. I lost my download. I was walking over piles of junk and I accidentally kicked the telephone off the hook and disconnected it. No, it seems to have recovered. I hung the phone back up and it’s downloading again. Phew. This takes a long time on dialup. I didn’t want to have to do it over again.

He lives with Carrie. That’s something I can’t give him. I can’t give him a place to live. I can’t let anyone live with me. I could do it if their life depended on it and they had no other way, but anything less than that, I can’t do. I cannot let anyone get this poison residue on their belongings the way it is on mine. The landlady and the maintenance guy have it on their shoes by now, and there’s nothing I can do about that, because I can’t keep them out of the apartment.

Another thing Carrie is doing that I can’t do is, she’s studying to become a nurse. She will be making a lot more money than I do, at a ‘real’ job in her field. I can’t go to school or study for a couple of reasons. First, I am not willing to risk borrowing lots of money to do something that I might not follow through on.

Second, I have chronic fatigue and I am being attacked by murderers. They zap me whenever I merely try to meditate. I don’t know if they would let me learn or study anything or not. I remember when I was in college, I observed something happening. I was trying to read and study something, and every couple seconds, I felt this painful clenching in my abdomen. It wasn’t agonizing pain. It was a very low-level, hard-to-notice pain and anxiety that I hadn’t been aware of until I paid close attention to it. That is very similar to the attacks I have nowadays, except back then I didn’t know that I was being attacked by murderers. But it made it very hard to study. I would try to concentrate and every few seconds I lost my concentration. So I don’t know if my fatigue, and the murderers, would make it too hard for me to study. They ‘punish’ me whenever I try to do housework or take care of my own needs in any way. They cause physical pain, burning, and distraction. They want me to waste my time doing things that go away from my goals: they want me to chase after a young teenage boy who’s rejecting me, instead of working on my goal of finding a real husband and having children with him before it’s too late. They want me to waste the rest of my eggs until I become infertile and it is too late, and I will die without having children.

Curtis and Carrie are interacting in this part of the video. She’s doing things in the background and he starts censoring her by drawing things on the special effects to block her out. It makes me jealous to see them together and to hear him calling her beautiful.

I wish it was easier for me to find people I’m attracted to. I wish that I didn’t care whether they had long hair or whether they were cute skinny young guys. I wish I didn’t have any standards and I could just be attracted to any random guy without giving a shit what he looks like. And I wish I didn’t have strange problems in my life that no one else can understand. I would just have normal kids and not give a shit about their health or their education. They’d grow up fat because I bottle-fed them because I went back to work a couple of weeks after I gave birth to them. They’d go to the doctor and get blood pressure drugs because all of their belongings were covered in drug residues and they couldn’t ever fall asleep again. I’d have kids who stayed awake 24 hours a day every day because I never finished cleaning up the ephedra residue from when I handled the seeds, because I’d deny that ephedra residue even exists, so I’d go to the doctor and I’d buy sleeping pills for my kids so that they would go to bed. They’d go to public school and they’d learn that the government will solve all of our problems for us. They’d go deeply in debt and never save a penny in their entire lives because they trust the banking system and the credit card companies to give them everything they need, because I wouldn’t bother to teach them any differently. They’d go into the future, the world of the 21st century, without knowing that electronic mind control is real and it’s already controlling all of us, so they’d never know the joy of free will, how it feels to control your own mind.

Actually, he said that the heart was beautiful when he put a heart on the screen. I can’t hear him very well because I have the volume turned down low since it’s the middle of the night. I don’t have the earphones out. They’re somewhere in with the rest of the computer stuff.

This is the enneagram Four, ‘envy.’ I wish that I could have it as easy as everyone else has it. I wish I didn’t give a shit about anything and I could just marry a random guy, someone ugly and stupid and boring. Then I could at least have kids, even though I’d raise them in the mainstream way. It wouldn’t matter to me that I had no passion in my marriage and that I found my husband sexually repulsive, because I wouldn’t have any standards, and lots and lots of guys would look sexually attractive to me. I’d have no preferences about what they looked like. I wish I didn’t mind being trapped and bored in a loveless marriage for the purpose of raising kids. Or an abusive marriage. It’s either going to be loveless and boring, or violent and abusive. Either way, I will be trapped after the kids are born. I can’t imagine it being safe and trusting, while also being passionate, and exciting, with real love, and also having kids and raising them they way that I think they should be raised.

It’s the belief in breastfeeding that is making this so difficult for me. I believe that there is no alternative to breastfeeding, and also, I believe that it has to be ‘extended’ breastfeeding, where you let them nurse until they stop on their own, years and years later. That means I have to stay home with the kids. As non-traditional as some of my ideas might seem, I still require myself to have a ‘traditional’ marriage where the mother stays with the children and the husband is required to pay the bills. I don’t WANT it to be that way: I would prefer to have division of labor where both parents provide somehow. If I had a business at home, that would work. I’d take my babies to work if it were legal, or if the workplace would allow it, but they never do. I don’t like depending entirely on the husband to give money to all of us. That means that I, and the kids, are at risk of violence. Men get angry when you make them slaves. I don’t want my husband to be a slave, but at the same time, there is no way around the breastfeeding requirement.

… Curtis’s video is making me laugh. He’s still playing with the special effects. This one distorts the image into different shapes and he’s making little sound effects to go with the distortions.

Marrying a boring, ugly man, and never spending any time at all with the type of guys I find attractive, or this one particular guy (Curtis) who I’ve bonded with and don’t want to lose – I can’t even see it. (And, no, I don’t see myself marrying Curtis, and I doubt that he would want to, either. But I would want to at least spend time with him.)

I think it was yesterday that this happened. Kayla, her mother, and Caden (Curtis’s son) went through McDonald’s drive-thru. Caden looked up at me and waved. He had to have been forced to do that. It was unusual. Kids do sometimes look at me and wave or say hi, in the drive-thru. So it’s possible he did it on his own. But I seriously doubt it. ‘They’ (the murderers) made him do it. ‘They’ control kids all the time and force kids to say things, or to have dreams about specific things at night, and so on.

I don’t know about Caden’s personality, but I hope that he is an echo of Curtis.

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every love is different

October 28, 2010

Whole raw milk really does cause crying. I stopped buying it for a couple weeks. Then I bought some again last week, and I’ve been using it in cereal. I haven’t eaten cereal in years. (It’s a long story, but I had reasons why I wasn’t eating it.) Now I’ve started crying easily and spontaneously at small things, again, just like I was doing the last time I was drinking whole raw milk. I got it from the Amish. It’s over a week old, and there’s not the slightest hint of sourness or spoilage.

Today, I started singing a song that ‘they’ put into my head. I had just eaten my cereal and I started singing, out of nowhere, ‘I found a picture of you…. those were the happiest days of my life.’ And I suddenly burst into tears and I kneeled down on the bed and cried for a minute. It is that line of the song that triggers me to cry. I’m still crying easily right now. It’s that milk. I never weep this easily. I feel sad, or I feel pain and hurt, but I don’t start weeping easily unless I’m drinking this milk. I didn’t take my St. John’s Wort this morning. That’s because I started my period and I was exhausted and I didn’t get up early to do housework, I slept in instead, and I only use the SJW when I’m trying to get up early and do housework. I cry when I’m on my period too, but not always, and not this easily. It isn’t because of that. It’s definitely the milk.

I gave Curtis a gift. However, I don’t know if he opened it. It was in an envelope, and the envelope was sealed shut, with a letter inside. He might have thought it was only a letter, and he might not have opened it yet. He might have set it aside for later. It was an expensive gift. I am going to try to get more gifts like that one. It was the second successful stalking incident. I don’t have time to write about it now. I’m getting ready for work. I would like to keep giving them. That is the idea that ‘they’ are urging me to do. I am agreeing with the idea. It came from them, but I agree.

I was having a panic attack when I was talking to him, so I only saw him for a few seconds, gave him the note, and left. We didn’t talk except for a few words. I was panicking too much to even warn him that there was something in the envelope besides just a note.

I learned something. Every love is different. That is my phrase. It’s because, long ago, I didn’t allow myself to say ‘I love you’ or use the word ‘love’ to describe the feelings I had for various people, unless they were ‘The ONE.’ If you’re not ‘The ONE,’ then I couldn’t call it love. That USED to be the rule. I changed that rule. Now I’m allowed to call it ‘love’ even if they’re not ‘the ONE.’ I can say that I love each person differently, in different ways, for different reasons, and it doesn’t have to be perfect or ideal love. So I love Curtis.

Night of the living dead

October 26, 2010

‘They’ made me google the phrase ‘when hell is full, the dead will walk the earth,’ because I hadn’t seen the movie it came from. It’s either from Night of the Living Dead, or Dawn of the Dead. I read about both of them. Now I’d like to see them both. I was remembering how I used to like the Freddy Krueger movies. I never watched zombie movies. I saw one once a few years ago but didn’t really pay attention to it and I wasn’t all that interested. I don’t remember anything about it. I would probably like NOTLD and DOTD because they’re older movies and they’re low budget. I like things where the special effects are simple and cheap, because you have to use other ways of getting the audience interested and/or scared. So… next time I go to the video store I will rent one or both of those movies.

self preservation

October 26, 2010

7:38 AM 10/26/10

Warning: This is a boring “self-preservation” blog. I’m noticing the self-preservation instinct, from Oscar Ichazo’s three instincts: self-preservation, social, and sexual. I’m taking my St. John’s Wort to help myself do things I need to do for self-preservation.

I don’t want to live in this apartment forever. I miss something about the old apartment: I was able to take a walk on the path by the duckpond. It was just a short little path, but it was nice. There was a pond on one side of me, and trees on the right. I can take walks here, but I don’t feel comfortable. There are too many neighbors, and I guess I could try walking on the path where other people say they go walking, but I don’t really feel right about it. I don’t know where it is, and they said it goes over somebody’s property or something. I just feel that it’s not really private.

I want a quiet place without cars. I want trees and grass and water. I want fresh air.

There are isolated parts of the world where few people live, even though there are almost 7 billion people. Those are undesirable places, but yet, they could be desirable simply because they are isolated. I’ve looked at the map of Canada, and there are places in northern Canada along the coastline where you might be able to have an Eskimo type of lifestyle, hunting and fishing in the sea.

If you don’t want to be too far away from people, then an intentional community is the best way to live near people and be able to make your own rules about where cars and concrete are allowed to go. I’d like to have small, simple cottages, without any asphalt or concrete around them, just grass and dirt, so the parking lot would be a little distance away, and I’d like to be close to my neighbors, but also have a space to go walking privately. Intentional communities are places that you design by yourself to fit your own needs. When I say “by yourself” I don’t mean alone, I mean, you control it, instead of random people all doing random things; you and your group of people all agree to do it a certain way. So you can make your own rules about parking lots, houses, concrete and dirt.

I have a problem taking walks at the parks around here. I get duck parasites on my legs. I know for sure that I get them when I walk at Talleyrand Park. I used to get them when I walked by the duckpond at my other apartment, and for a long time, I didn’t know what was causing them. There are some kind of mites or parasites on ducks, and they crawl up your legs and dig into your skin, leaving irritated bumps and scratches. It happens if you walk around on places where the ducks are. Anyway, I don’t want to have to drive my car to get to a park where I can take a walk.

I got up early to take Peter to dialysis. He doesn’t usually go at this time. He asked if I could take him because he needs to go early and then go to a doctor’s appointment. So I will be driving him around today.

Zoning laws cause a lot of the problems that I see. Zoning laws are on my top ten worst laws list. (The other laws on the ‘worst laws’ list are things like income taxes and property taxes, the ‘forty hour week’ laws that require employers to pay you higher wages if you work overtime, and the minimum wage laws.) I get annoyed when I see a house in the middle of a huge yard, and a lawnmower driving over the lawn, when there ought to be a family cow eating the grass and providing fresh raw milk for the family, and free roaming chickens should be running around eating insects in the grass and providing eggs for the family. But it’s probably illegal to just have a cow in your yard if your house isn’t in the ‘agricultural zone.’ If it’s ‘residential,’ I don’t think you’re allowed to have a cow. I don’t know for sure though. In a lot of places, you HAVE to mow the lawn with a lawnmower, and you wouldn’t be allowed to have a cow if you wanted to.

I took my SJW this morning after I got home from driving Peter to dialysis. There are things I need to do today. I am drinking coffee, but it’s not making me feel very awake. SJW makes me sleepy, or at least, some kinds of SJW do. I have to use a lot more caffeine when I’m using SJW.

‘They’ were noticing yesterday that I was looking at a tattoo magazine while I was waiting for Peter as he looked around at Wal-Mart. On one of the pages, it showed women as zombies, and said ‘When hell is full, the dead will get sexy.’ Curtis has ‘When hell is full, the dead will walk the earth’ on his MySpace page. So he probably got that from the tattoo magazines or something similar. I was thinking of him while I looked at it. I want to understand what he likes.

It’s possible to look at pictures of mostly-naked skinny guys in a tattoo magazine. That’s the nice thing about it. It’s one of the only places where you can find pictures of skinny guys. Muscles aren’t what’s important in a tattoo magazine. It’s really true that I love skinny guys. I could be only interested in short guys, because I’m short (five foot two), but I don’t like short, stocky, muscular guys as much as I like short skinny guys. (And, okay, I said the other day that my butt was ‘huge,’ but in reality, it’s not that huge, it’s just slightly larger than you might expect. The voices were bugging me about this last night.)

‘They’ always wonder about it, whenever I enjoy looking at pictures of guys with tattoos, or women with tattoos, or piercings, or brightly colored mohawks, or whatever. Anytime I look at anything at all, the voices start questioning and interrogating me, especially if they think that I am acting bisexual or showing any signs of interest in females. I get attacked, abused, harassed, and tortured by the murderers anytime I show the slightest sign of sexual interest towards females.

(In the old days, before I knew that I was being attacked, I was open-minded and tolerant about bisexuality, but at the same time, I wasn’t really interested in trying it. I always had crushes on guys. The only bisexual thing I ever did was, I had cybersex with a lesbian in a chatroom, and when I say that I ‘had cybersex,’ quote unquote, it means that I typed words on my keyboard while the person on the other end of the chat was enjoying herself, while I myself sat there doing nothing. I used to go to chatrooms and I would ‘have cybersex’ by writing about things that were exciting to the other person, but I never got that excited about it myself, and I never masturbated while talking in a chatroom. I got vicariously excited, knowing that the other people were enjoying themselves. Also, the murderers often attacked me, and they forced me to feel sensations – that is one of the typical things that they do, they force you to feel sexual sensations.)

Anyway, ‘they’ always wonder if I’m being a hypocrite by making rules about ‘no tattoos’ and ‘no hair cutting’, while I also like to look at pictures of tattoos and piercings and hairstyles and makeup and everything. I always say that if you are a member of the Order, you have to follow the grooming rules, but you are still allowed to have friends who don’t. You can have friends and family who aren’t members, and those people can dress and style themselves however they want to.

Curtis’s family, or his mother actually – I don’t know about his dad or his stepdad – his mother has lots of tattoos, and so he grew up thinking that tattoos were normal and okay. He has a few, but not many. I don’t want to see him covering himself with lots of tattoos. He has beautiful skin. The skin of his arms has tiny freckles all over it. They’re small and faint and hard to see, and you can only see them if you’re close to him. From far away, he looks like his skin is just a solid color. That’s something special about his skin. If he covered his arms and his body with tattoos you wouldn’t be able to see things like that.

I was reading about ‘Jackass’ yesterday, because I don’t watch television, so I didn’t know about the Jackass TV show, and I hadn’t seen the movie. It’s listed in Curtis’s favorite shows. So I was reading about the kind of stunts they did. That gave the murderers the idea to give me a dream about ‘Saw,’ because that movie is also one of his favorites, and I haven’t seen it, but I’ve thought about watching it several times when I was looking around at the movie rental place.

I dreamed I was at my parents’ house in West Virginia, and I only remember the last part of the dream just before I woke up. I was underneath the back porch where the swing used to be. Anytime a ‘swing’ appears in one of my dreams, it’s the murderers attacking me about ‘being bisexual’ or ‘swinging.’ They have given me lots of dreams in the past about people on swings, and when they wake me up, they then torture me with feelings of artificial rage.

So I was near the swing under the back porch. I was wearing my blue Weis hat. (I’ll explain this stuff after I’m finished telling what happened.) I crouched down on the ground, and when I stood up, – and oh, I forgot to mention, I was walking and running carelessly around near these gigantic saw blades that were spinning, and the ground was slippery and irregular, and I was crouching down right next to one of the spinning blades. They were like the kind of blades used for cutting logs. Actually, that might even be a reference to Lemony Snicket’s book where (oh no, I have to look up the characters’ names in my mind, and the murderers thought it would be funny to call them ‘Victory’ and ‘Curt,’ but those aren’t their names. Victory is the name of a spider in the ‘A Deepness in the Sky’ book by Vernor Vinge.) Klaus – that’s who – (and his sister’s name is Violet) the saw blade in the book where Klaus gets hypnotized. So when I stood up, I didn’t watch where I was going, and I moved my head right into the blade of the saw, and it sliced open the top of my Weis hat. It didn’t cut my head open, but it hit me on the head hard and it hurt. (I can’t remember the secret word that would trigger Klaus to get hypnotized.)

The ‘interpretation’ that the murderers gave me after they woke me up was that the McDonald’s hat is actually a visor, and it doesn’t cover the top of my head, so you’re able to see my dreadlocks, but the Weis hat is a baseball cap, so for a while, when I first started growing dreadlocks, you weren’t able to see them when I was wearing my Weis hat. So when you ‘cut open’ the top of the hat it showed my dreadlocks. That was making a reference to the time when I briefly took my hat off at Weis, and Curtis saw me, and he looked surprised, as though he hadn’t known I was growing dreadlocks. This is a bit far-fetched but I think they were saying that the dreadlocks are sexy, even though I feel insecure about them. My hair is really, really thin, and so are my dreadlocks. You can see big spaces between them. The saw blade cutting the top of my head was also referring to how my hair is parted down the middle instead of on the side. That’s the direction the saw blade was cutting, right down the middle of my parted hair.

They want me to go look for Curtis today. I don’t feel very hopeful about finding him. I haven’t had much luck except the one time. Even if he’s at work when I go there, he could be in the back room. There are lots of things they have to do in the back. I might walk around looking for him, and he could be there, but he could be stuck doing something in the back room for fifteen minutes right at the same time that I’m looking for him. He isn’t necessarily out in the public part of the store. At least I know which store he’s at.

omg

October 23, 2010

Looking at a photo of his half-naked body, while I’m on drugs, is dangerous. My reaction to him was much stronger than usual, and that’s saying something.

Puppet attack

October 22, 2010

Now that I’m on drugs they are trying to make me talk to and go out with a guy who I feel friendly towards but not sexually attracted to. I don’t want to make hasty, rash decisions and start unsustainable relationships. I just want to function.

Not on eagledove9

October 22, 2010

My mom and dad are looking at my eagledove9 flickr photos. These will be posted elsewhere. My brother can see them if he wants because he agrees with me about nudism. But my parents don’t understand. I’ll put a link.

naked pictures… yippee… sorry, not uploaded yet

October 22, 2010

Well, one of the first things it made me do was start taking naked pictures of myself. That’s always entertaining. I took some pictures of myself in the bathroom – not going to the bathroom, just in the bathroom – and I have my socks and sandals on because I have a reaction to the stuff on the carpet. So it isn’t a completely naked picture. I took a few in different positions. I am at the high end of my weight range right now, but I don’t have a scale – it’s in storage – so I don’t know how much I weigh. My butt is huge. No, seriously, it is. I am probably about 135 or maybe 140 right now. I look “rubenesque”. I should look that up to check the spelling. I took the pics with my real camera, not my phone. I am going to have to take some more. They are ‘anatomical nudes,’ just pictures of myself standing in a normal position with a dull and boring expression on my face. They’re not seductive or sexual, just neutral and nudist. I’ll take some nicer ones, maybe outdoors somewhere in the woods.

Very low dose of St. John’s Wort today

October 22, 2010

I think it must have been sitting on the shelves a while before I bought it, because it wasn’t very strong. I bought it in the form of hard tablets, instead of the capsules. I had usually gotten the capsule form in the past, but I remembered noticing a difference when I got it as tablets.

I broke off a tiny piece, and held it in my mouth and let it dissolve. I don’t want to take the whole pill all at once. It was only a little bit bitter, and I could tolerate it. It didn’t make me sick. It didn’t make me want to throw up. It didn’t give me the “head pressure” feeling where I feel like I’m going to have a stroke. It isn’t making my eyes flicker around. (What I mean is, sometimes St. John’s Wort makes my eyes jump around quickly and sort of shake themselves.)

The first thing I noticed was, while I was letting it dissolve and then swallowing it little by little, I felt a sensation behind my eyes as though I was seeing bright sunlight. SJW makes you sensitive to sunlight, and it might affect your pineal gland.

It also makes my eyes sparkle. I have seen exactly that same sparkle in the eyes of that singer guy whose name I can’t remember, the one with the dreadlocks that everybody loves. He sang a song that I like, Red Red Wine, and it’s hard to explain why I like that song when I hate alcohol and I don’t drink. Every time I search for that name in my brain, the murderers are saying the name “Jim Morrison,” and I know that’s not the name. They keep putting that word in my head every time I look for the name. Looking for a name requires the brain to go into a self-hypnotized state for a fraction of a second, and the murderers won’t let me self-hypnotize. They have to GIVE the names to me instead of letting me look for them. It’s Bob Marley, they just now told me. That’s it.

Anyway, so I felt it going into my eyes, and I felt a very slight head pressure which quickly went away. Then the feeling behind my eyes also went away. The only thing that seemed to happen was I got a little bit sleepy, and I started talking out loud to myself as I walked around my apartment. (Yes, I have control over this, and I don’t do it in public. But I’ve gotten caught at work a couple times when I was out cleaning the lobby in the middle of night shift, and someone walked up to me when I thought I was alone, and they heard me whispering to myself.)

St. John’s Wort sometimes causes me to write much longer, more boring, more repetitive letters and blogs. I say the same thing over and over again. I also do a lot of puppet speech, saying things they make me say without realizing it.

I was reading someone else’s blog yesterday, at random, and I noticed that person was experiencing the same problem I have. They were inserting the word “definitely” into every sentence. That happens to me. It’s an attack. It doesn’t come from within, and it’s not a “bad habit” or “poor writing style.” It’s an electronic attack. For some reason, it’s the word “definitely,” over and over again. Junk adjectives like “definitely” are forced into your head while you’re writing, and you put them into the sentence, and it adds clutter to the sentence and makes it weaker, less clear, and less readable. It isn’t a “bad habit.” You insert random adjectives in between other words in the sentence, and when you’re doing it, it seems to make sense, but the words aren’t necessary.

Radio has been around a long time. The very first inventors fooling around with radio would have observed that sometimes it gave them strange sensations in their bodies. Did they keep it a secret? Did they work on it and develop it and pass along the knowledge to only a few people? I don’t know how it happened. But the electronic attacks have been going on for a very long time. I’ve looked at some books written in the late nineteenth century, I read about the dreams they were having, and some of the dreams are like electronic attack dreams.

I could talk about aliens, and debate whether it’s coming from aliens or humans on earth, but I would rather focus on building detectors to observe where the attacks come from and to understand the systems being used. That’s the only way to find out who’s doing it. I don’t need to worry or speculate about aliens. But I sometimes do, a little bit, when I notice how many years ago the attacks seemed to be happening, as early as the late 1900s. It seems unbelievable that people could have developed the technology enough to do it back then. However, secrets have always existed.

So anyway this particular pill fragment didn’t do much to me at all. I’m used to handling much more potent doses. I was growing St. John’s Wort in a pot several years ago, so I had it fresh. If you eat even a tiny nibble from a fresh green leaf, it is so strong and so toxic you might have to go to the hospital. I felt like my head was going to explode and I felt like I would die, and I only ate a tiny piece of one tiny leaf. Don’t eat it! Just breathe next to the plant. The vapors around the plant are enough to have an effect on you. Or you can grind it up with a mortar and pestle and mix it with oil, and put drops of oil on your skin, which is what I used to do. Growing the herb indoors is part of what contaminated my whole apartment with various drug residues. Don’t grow it indoors.

The drink does not “come with” the value meal.

October 21, 2010

This is a pet peeve of mine. I’m not really mad at the customers. It’s not their fault. They have somehow been led to believe that the drink “comes with” the value meal, and that they are actually getting a “bargain.”

In a value meal, the sandwich and fries are together as a unit. You are charged one price for the sandwich and fries together. The price is different depending on whether you get the fries medium, or large. (No, you cannot get small fries as part of a value meal.) This price is slightly lower than the price you would pay to buy a sandwich and fries without getting a value meal. I can’t remember how much lower. I would have to go look. It might vary from store to store, too. That is the only thing that is a “bargain” or “value” or whatever you want to call it.

The drink is charged separately from the sandwich-fries price. You are REQUIRED to buy the drink. You do not get any kind of deal, or bargain, or “value,” on the drink. The drink is the regular price. It does not “come with” the value meal.

You can get any type of drink. Don’t worry about whether you are “substituting” some other drink instead of the drink that “comes with” the meal. There is no specific drink that comes with any meal. For instance, you could get an iced coffee with a Happy Meal if you felt like it, instead of a kids’ drink like apple juice. You are expected to “substitute” something, and in fact, we’re HOPING that you do. Don’t apologize for substituting the “wrong” drink instead of the one you are “supposed” to get. We’re glad. It makes us richer.

The only thing you can’t do is you can’t buy the “value” drinks, the $1.00 drinks, like the small soda, with certain meals. You can with some meals, but not all of them. At my store, if you buy a large sweet tea with a value meal, the sweet tea is a different price than the usual $1.00 price that you get if you buy the sweet tea alone.

Why can’t you get the cheap “value” drinks? Because the drink is where the profit comes from in the value meal. We make lots and lots of profit on the drink, and that profit makes up for the small amount that we lose when we give you a lower price for the sandwich and fries. So we want to charge the full price for drinks. The value meal encourages people (or, actually, requires them) to buy a drink, even if they don’t really want the drink, and they think they’re getting a deal, so they buy a drink they don’t really want. Without value meals, we would probably sell a lot fewer drinks, and the drinks are very profitable.

You cannot get a value meal and then say “I don’t want the drink.” If you do that, the order taker will roll their eyes, delete the value meal that they just entered in the computer, and charge you for a sandwich and a fry separately at their regular price, and they won’t be bothered trying to explain this to you. Also, you can’t cheat and get a free cup of tap water with a value meal. That will also get an eye roll and a deletion and re-entry on the computer. The computer won’t let us do those things. We don’t have a choice about it.

When you get the reduced-price sandwich and fries, plus the drink, the total price is higher than, for instance, getting only a sandwich and fries. You are spending more money total. Many, many people have been fooled by this sales tactic, at many different places, not just at McDonald’s, but at grocery stores and any other place that says “Buy 10 for $10!” Do you really need 10 gizmos? You are spending more money total than you would have spent if you only got one or two at the regular price. Sometimes, you really don’t need 10 gizmos taking up space in your house even though they were a bargain.

There is only one sense in which a particular drink “comes with” a value meal. When you read the prices listed on the sign, and you ask, “How can I get that price?” there is only one particular drink that will give you the price it says on the sign. That’s usually what people mean when they ask for the drink that “comes with” the meal. With the dinner value meals, this means a medium soda or a large soda. With the breakfast value meals, it’s a small coffee. If you get anything else except a small coffee, you won’t get the total price listed on the sign, you’ll pay more, because all the other drinks are more expensive than a small coffee.

I have had arguments with customers, I have had customers get totally confused, as they try to tell me that they are being cheated because the total price of their value meal is higher than they think it ought to be, because they ordered some other drink instead of, for instance, the small coffee with their breakfast. I can show them the receipt, I can explain how our prices work, and they will still sit there and argue with me and get confused and annoyed. They have this idea in their head that we are supposed to be doing them a favor by giving them “value,” instead of doing what we are really doing, which is, finding a way to make more profits for McDonald’s, by requiring people to buy a drink that they might not want.

The Happy Meal is the one that causes the most trouble. I have had people insist that they don’t want a drink with their Happy Meal. You don’t have a choice about it. There is no way to type it into the computer and take off the drink and reduce the price. If you get a Happy Meal, that is going to have the price of a drink added to it somewhere, and the only thing you have a choice about is getting the cheapest possible drink. I’ve had to tell customers “We will charge you for a drink, but if you want, we just won’t give it to you.” They don’t want to be handed a drink that will get thrown in the garbage. Again, there is no way that we can get rid of the drink to reduce the price of a meal.

If you don’t want a drink with your Happy Meal, and if it’s a matter of principle, and you don’t want to be charged for an imaginary drink that you will either not receive, or will throw away, then you could order all of the items separately, the sandwich, the fries, and the toy (and you will be charged for the toy), and you could ask us to please put them into a Happy Meal box or bag for you.

By the way, children probably don’t love Happy Meal toys as much as you think they do. I remember being a child, and I felt sorry for all the junky toys that I never played with, the toys that got buried in the bottom of the toybox and left there for years and years. Happy Meal toys are exactly that kind of toy. I couldn’t bear the thought of throwing a toy in the garbage. (Ever seen Toy Story? I felt that way about my toys. Every toy was alive. It was wasteful to bring home a “live” toy and then bury it in the bottom of the toybox and then feel sorry for it. And I already felt that way when I was a kid.)

So… that was a huge rant. I was going to try to make a long story short, but instead I made a short story long.

I forgot to write about Alice in the books, lol

October 20, 2010

I knew there would be something I’d remember after I published it. I was going to say about how Alice stole a car to get them to Edward, at the end of New Moon, and Alice seems to behave like a Three. She is cool-headed and efficient under stress, not reacting emotionally like Bella, who seems like a Four. I’m not sure what type Edward is.

Harmonic triads; failed stalking; facebook; the murderers

October 20, 2010

10:02 AM 10/20/10

I knew already that the enneagram types can be grouped together in various ways. But I somehow overlooked the Harmonic Triads grouping. Maybe it wasn’t in the two books that I had, or maybe I just skimmed it quickly and never really saw it.

One, Three, Five: Competency Triad
Two, Seven, Nine: Positive Outlook Triad
Four, Six, Eight: Reactive Triad

This is helpful for creating fiction story characters. In fact, all of the enneagram, and also Ichazo’s Instinctual types, and also the Myers-Briggs types, and any other personality typing system, can be helpful for an author trying to create believable characters.

The Competency Triad: Under stress, this group sets asides their feelings and focuses on doing the job, in one way or another.

The Positive Outlook Triad: Under stress, this group denies that there is a problem, and says, “All is well,” in one way or another.

The Reactive Triad: Under stress, this group has a strong emotional reaction which they feel they have to get out in the open before doing anything else.

I thought it was funny to see that type Eight was in the reactive group. You know how the evil character in a movie will just stand there talking to the hero, before he tortures or kills them, and he has to explain the details of his evil plan, and how it all worked, and why he did it, and it always gives them time to figure out a way to escape? It turns out that that’s really what would happen in real life, lol. The evil guys really DO stand there talking to you before they kill you.

I’ve always been like that, as a Four. I’ve always wanted to ‘explain myself’ somehow before getting down to business. I used to write essays in school, and before actually getting to the essay, I would write an introduction explaining why I had some kind of a problem with this essay or whatever. That was back when I was much more ADHD than I am now. Nowadays, I can write an essay, reluctantly, if I have to, without explaining any personal background about how hard it was to write the essay, or what other ideas I had instead. But I write thousands of pages of blogs instead!

I understood what they meant when they said that the Reactive Triad wants to get their feelings out in the open to find out whether they can trust the people they’re working with. Do you agree with me, or do you disagree? Are we able to work together on this, or are you working against me?

Anyway, I was reading New Moon (Stephenie Meyer) and I finished it last night. I’ve never read the books before – I only watched the movies – and I only did that because other people said they were reading, watching, or liking them. I was curious. It turns out that yes, I like them too, although they’re not my all-time favorite books of my entire life, or anything like that, and I might not reread them again and again.

People are making fun of ‘sparkly vampires’ and saying that they’re not REAL vampires, and you should watch this or that TV show or movie instead, because it has REAL vampires in it.

However, the vampires aren’t really the main idea of the story. It’s a love story, and it doesn’t matter if they’re vampires, werewolves, zombies, mummies, aliens, serial killers, evil dictators of a foreign country, or something else. What matters is the idea of loving someone while having some kind of limit or restriction between you so that it’s difficult, or terrifying, or dangerous somehow, to be close to that person, to love them, to touch them, without somehow getting hurt very badly. That’s the idea that I can relate to, even if it isn’t literally true in my life. It’s true enough. I have a terrifying, incapacitating, crippling fear of rejection. When I love someone, when I feel intensely attracted to that person, I also am terrified to express physical, sexual love towards them, to touch them even in just a friendly way, to express any need or desire for them at all. There are lots of reasons for that, but strangely enough, other people feel that same way even if their reasons are different from mine. Enough people can relate to this feeling that they’re eagerly reading those books and the books are very popular.

******
I tried to find Curtis today, but didn’t find him.

Is this something ‘they’ are making me do? Yes, and no. They’re reminding me about him. They’re putting voices and images in my head to convince me that he needs me and wants me, when, in reality, I think it’s probably ‘out of sight, out of mind’ – now that he’s not seeing me at work, he can easily forget that I exist, and move on with his life. Unless ‘they’ are reminding him about me, too.

However, the *feelings* that I have for him are real. I still love the sight of his face and his body. I have photos of him and I enjoy looking at them. I still feel that he is beautiful, sexy, cute, lovable, and a friend. I still feel physically attracted to him. I still feel that he is a friend, and he could be like family. But there are also limits and restrictions. If I ask too much of him, I will be painfully rejected and humiliated. I am terrified of that. Also, because he is no longer a co-worker, my visits to him are forced and artificial. I can’t just wander past him on a whim. It has to be planned and deliberate. And I am doing it without his consent, against his refusal.

‘Something to live for.’ Don’t anybody take this the wrong way. Let me explain what I mean. I am reluctant to do the ‘chores’ at home, my unpleasant tasks and projects, because it seems like life is not worth living, and if I waste all my time doing unpleasant chores, it destroys the time that I could spend doing something I enjoy, like writing and reading. So instead of doing the work I need to do, I write and I read. Sometimes, the murderers burn me whenever I think about, or try to plan, or try to do, the chores and the work I need to do. So that makes it not really my fault that I avoid doing that work. They really do burn me or give me other impulses instead of letting me do all the chores and projects and tasks and errands I need to do. I’ll be driving my car to Wal-Mart, and they’ll suddenly give me the idea of going to Barnes & Noble instead, even though I really need to get important stuff at Wal-Mart, and even though I really had intended to go there. When they give me that impulse, I usually go there. The impulse is fake. It would not happen in the real world if I were not the victim of an attack. It does not come from within. It does not originate inside me. It is a fake impulse. I wonder how many people on earth would be living better lives if they were not the puppets of the murderers, destroying their life and their energy and their activities and the time they spend and every word they say and every thought and feeling in their heads?

But in spite of all that, it is still hard to do chores and tasks. And I am reluctant to do it unless I know that there is some kind of long-term improvement in my life, something to live for, something to hope for, something that will be better in the future.

(The murderers are making the side of my hip ‘slip’ down the edge of the chair right now. They will die for doing these things to people. It is the ‘slips’ that cause the most pain and suffering out of all the attacks that I experience. Other attacks going on are less noticeable and they do not cause pain as directly. They are unconscious. The ‘slips’ actually cause severe pain and distraction. The slips make an extremely high-pitched noise, ultrasound, which causes pain in my ears. It is always my hips and my butt that they make ‘slip’ whenever I am pressed against an object or surface. They don’t usually do much to my hands and arms, although when I’m sleeping, they sometimes make my fingers twitch loudly against the scratchy paper surface that I have covering my bed. Anytime I’m in a position where my hips or butt are pressed against a surface, supporting my weight, for instance if I’m crouching or squatting in a store while reading a magazine and leaning against a wall, they will *always* do the slips where my hip or butt touches the surface, and it makes the high-pitched ultrasonic sound that hurts my ears and causes intense distraction, pain, and rage. When that happens, I have to shift my position so that it’s my back supporting me instead of my hips, and I have to push very hard against the surface so that it’s more difficult to make it slip. I shouldn’t have to worry about this. I shouldn’t have to feel the unbearably loud high noise and feel the pain it causes. I have to wear earplugs all the time when I’m at home. The slips don’t cause the pain in my ears whenever I have the earplugs in, but I still hear voices and get other attacks in my head with the earplugs in. I just don’t hear it as loudly whenever they make noises in the room around me. As I said before, the murderers will die for doing these things. The attackers are mentally ill – not the victims.)

So… back to ‘something to live for.’ Doing this task, this mission, of stalking Curtis, of giving money to him, is supposed to be my ‘reason to live,’ my one thing to look forward to. Whenever I try using myspace to meet other people, or anything at all, the voices, the murderers, accuse me of ‘playing games with Curtis,’ as though Curtis actually gives a shit or knows that I exist or cares whether or not I meet other people. So they won’t let me meet other people to care about so that I can look forward to them. Instead, they want me to be totally focused on Curtis and nothing but him, right now.

They want me to: waste my time unproductively, get rejected and humiliated, destroy my money, and destroy the hours of my life chasing after someone who doesn’t want me, but is too ‘nice’ and gentle and tolerant to be able to say ‘no’ to me. After all these emails back and forth to his girlfriend, and also to him, telling him that he has to make a strong boundary so that I will quit stalking him, he still isn’t able to say ‘no’ to me. He can’t say yes, and he can’t say no. But it will happen, one of these days, when I do something sexual to him and it makes him uncomfortable. I might get away with hugging him, and he might get used to it, and he might be able to tolerate it and even enjoy it a little bit. But if I start acting sexual, he will get disgusted and reject me and then I won’t even be able to hug him or touch him in a friendly way anymore.

(The murderers are still slipping my hip against the chair right now. They will die. The vigilante assassins will take it upon themselves to track down the murderers, find out where they are shooting from, and kill them red-handed while they are standing there pushing the buttons on the weapons that they are firing at the victims. They will fall down dead with their weapons still in their hands – let the police find their bodies there and let the ignorant police officers learn the hard way that these weapons exist – they pick it up off the ground and say, ‘What is this thing?’ and take it back and figure out how it works and test it on each other – so that the police will finally believe the victims who go to them asking for help – so that you go to them and ask for help and nobody says, ‘Are you taking your medication?’ It’s regrettable that it will be done by vigilante assassins. It would be much nicer if the police themselves would track them down, and be kind enough to put them in a comfortable jail cell, alive. However, that’s not happening, and all I can get is ‘are you taking your medication?’ when I go to the police, so all I can hope for is the vigilante assassins doing me a favor out of the kindness of their hearts. Vigilante assassins, where are you?)

Anyway it is true that my life is empty, I have no one to care about, except Peter, and for lots of reasons, that is a very unsatisfying relationship. It is true that I look forward to seeing Curtis for a few fractions of a second, and feeling the intense and unbearable terror, and the intense feelings, even the unpleasant feelings, even the awkwardness, the shame, the rejection, the unnaturalness, the feeling of being hurried and anxious and not wanting to take up too much of his time while working – the feelings are unbearable, but that is the most feeling that I have about anything at all in my life. I would rather have a calm, pleasant, stable, routine relationship with him, like we used to, when we knew we could easily see each other at work almost every day, and be together, and spend a few minutes talking and relaxing without rushing. I don’t *want* to have a tense, terrifying, awkward, rushed relationship with him. But that is all that I have right now. That is the only way to see him, to see his body, to see his eyes, to hear his voice, for a few seconds at a time before I leave.

Sooner or later, I will get the ‘no’ signal from his body while I am near him. He will say something or do something that says ‘no’ in the real world – not just in email. So far, MOST of his ‘no’ statements have been in emails or texts, but in the real world, he is much more tolerant and unwilling to say ‘no.’ The only time when he really said ‘no’ to me in the real world was the time when I was trying to ask him if I could give him a phone call because I really needed to talk to him, to settle our relationship – I was trying to do that for months, but he didn’t want to talk about it – I needed to know where I stood with him, once and for all, so that I could let go and move on, so that the murderers would no longer be able to convince me to violate his boundaries – if the boundaries are clear, strong, and explicit, if we make a set of rules about what I can and can’t do, then I won’t violate those rules even though the murderers are telling me to. He has to say ‘no’ again and again, repeatedly and consistently. The only time he said ‘no’ was when I was asking for that phone call, and he said that he spent all of his time either at work, or with his girlfriend, and there wasn’t a time when he could call me, and there were tears in his eyes while he told me this. He was very reluctant, but he did say ‘yes’ to the phone call, except that was the day that he got arrested and went to jail. It was obviously a puppet setup. The one time when he and I agreed to have a phone call to each other, that was the day when he went to jail. The murderers made it happen and they knew it was going to happen.

Unwanted status updates: There was an incident while I was still on Facebook. I found out what it was all about, shortly afterwards. For several days, the murderers were trying to force me to make a joke, in my facebook status updates, about people giving unwanted details in their status updates, like about how they’re going to the bathroom, and that kind of thing, things people ‘don’t want to know.’ But I didn’t make the joke, I didn’t say what they wanted me to say.

So they forced my friend Natalie to talk about it instead. And she and Lori were funny and witty and they always make me laugh, so I put in my two cents and made my own comment about how, soon, I myself will be one of those people making too many status updates about too many personal details that no one wants to know, like going to the bathroom.

The ‘rationale’ in my puppet brain was: it was because I was buying a new mobile phone. I thought I would be making lots of status updates from my mobile phone, and I would be addicted to it, and also, I would make puppet updates, saying things the murderers forced me to say, things with a double meaning or secret joke. (Right now they’re using Twitter for that instead.)

Then it turned out, shortly afterwards, that they installed new videocameras at McDonald’s. ‘They’ decided that that’s what the puppet joke had been about. New videocameras mean that my privacy might be violated anytime during my hours at work. You know exactly when I’m going to the bathroom. You can see in the cameras that I’m leaving the kitchen area and walking out in the lobby and then coming back a few minutes later. Even though you can’t see directly in the bathrooms, the people watching the videos can see that I’m going to the bathroom at that moment, and how many times I go to the bathroom, and how long I stay there.

I myself wasn’t thinking about it much, until the voices pointed it out to me. It bothered me for a couple days.

Without the cameras, other people might not notice that I walked out into the lobby for a couple minutes and then came back. They might not really be paying attention to where I am at any particular minute. Some people would know where I was, and I sometimes, but not always, tell people that I’m going to the ladies’ room. However, for some of the voices, for some of the ‘personas,’ it is an issue, merely knowing, or talking about, going to the bathroom. I can understand this, and to an extent, I feel that way too, but I’m not as preoccupied with thinking about this as they are. It’s like an enneagram type One, a religious person, who blocks out anything that could be sexually arousing or associated with sex or genitals in any way at all. It is also like somebody who is being traumatized and attacked. I get ‘personas’ in my head who claim that they themselves are the victims of an attack. I don’t know who they are. It reminds me of people in Guantanamo or Abu Ghraib.

There was a problem with Curtis when this was going on. He himself did that exact thing, status updates about going to the bathroom, after I commented with Natalie and Lori. I had the conflict about ‘he doesn’t know I exist, he doesn’t read anything I write, he doesn’t care what I do’ in conflict with ‘it seems like he read what I wrote, he thought it was funny, or else he took it as truth, and so he did the same thing,’ in conflict with ‘he could be a puppet, forced to say those things, and he might not have ever read my little comments on Natalie’s page at all.’ All of those interpretations were in conflict. It is that kind of incident that caused a lot of conflict and uncertainty – I *want* him to know that I exist – he did it several times, not just about the ‘bathroom updates,’ but about other things I had written. I want him to know that I exist – but I want him *in the real world.* I don’t merely want to be an online-only facebook friend! It’s painful when he’s acting as though I exist, on facebook, but at the same time, I got an email from him saying that he didn’t want to hang out with me in the real world. I can’t tell which emails are real and which ones are fake. I can’t tell which of his status updates came from reading my stuff, and which status updates were fake puppet ideas that they forced him to say.

(Whatever else was fake, at least it turned out that his page told the truth about where he was working, and I visited him, and saw his body, and my body knows where he is. It is an animal’s body looking for closure when its animal friend disappeared. I can’t convince it with words, I can only show it, and I did. The real world is what I want.)

I’m going in to work earlier than usual today. I asked for more hours at McD to make up for losing Weis. I don’t like working earlier. There is nothing to live for. (As I said before, don’t take that the wrong way.) There is nothing to care about. Yes, I choose life, and I am committed to life, until I die a very old woman, and yes, I survive, but I don’t care about anything. There’s been nothing to live for, all day, except a failed stalking mission, and now, I have even less time at home, and I have to go to work early, just to pay the bills…

If I hadn’t started getting forced to have crushes on young boys, I would still be writing about how government is the root of all evil, and how it is their taxes, and their fiat money, and their banking system, and their laws, that force me to work so many hours, to waste and destroy the precious time of my life. But instead, I am writing about love and stalking. (Technically, the crush itself is real, the feelings are real, but in the real world, I would have let it go and I would not have tried to make a real relationship out of it.)

I’ll post this now, and remember more stuff I wanted to say after it’s posted.

The Liberation Theme in my favorite movies

October 18, 2010

2:10 PM 10/18/10

The Liberation Theme in my favorite movies

Several years ago I noticed that my favorite movies usually had a liberation theme. Somebody has to be freed from a world or a bad situation.

Shawshank Redemption
The Matrix
What Dreams May Come
The Truman Show

Inception (I don’t know if I’ll buy this when it comes out on video, but I watched it two or three times in the theater)

The Polar Bear King (This is an obscure, underappreciated movie with tacky special effects. Look beyond the bad special effects and appreciate the movie itself, and the landscapes, and the beautiful music, and the cold loneliness of it with the warmth of the family and the community.)

Titanic

There are a lot more movies that I saw and enjoyed, but I never bought them on DVD or video, because I didn’t like them enough to watch them a hundred times. I don’t buy a lot of movies. I will probably think of more examples as soon as I post this and get offline.

Yes Man

There isn’t much of the liberation theme in the Harry Potter movies, yet they are my favorite movies and I watch them again and again and have them mostly memorized. Harry Potter is liberated from his terrible family life with the Dursleys, but most of the movie isn’t focused on that. You only spend a brief time at the Dursleys’ place and then most of the time is spent with the theme of solving mysteries and fighting bad guys.

Fighting Bad Guys Theme:

Lord of the Rings
Harry Potter

Those are more of my favorite movies that aren’t as focused on freeing somebody from a bad world and putting them into a better world. That theme does occur in these movies but it’s a minor theme, not the central theme.

(Actually, now that I think about it, Harry Potter frees you from the boring muggle world and brings you to the world of magic, so the whole thing is about liberation.)

I had a few movies that were sort of ‘human interest’ movies that I watched a long time ago, and I don’t have them on video or DVD.

Antonia’s Line – I watched this in college. It’s a foreign movie. It’s about love and sex and family and it’s mostly focused on women. I don’t see much about liberating anybody from a bad situation and putting them in a better situation (although maybe that applies to the mentally disabled girl), and I don’t see anyone ‘fighting the bad guys,’ not really. But it used to be one of my favorite movies.

Horror Movies:

I never liked horror movies very much, but for some reason, I really, really liked the Freddy Krueger Nightmare on Elm Street movies. I watched them with my best friend Rachael when we were kids. They were scary, exciting, and fascinating. Other horror movies seemed dumb and boring to me. Why would I want to watch an ordinary human being killing other ordinary human beings?

But Freddy Krueger lived in the world of dreams, and everyone was having the same dreams. There was a paranormal, supernatural mystery to solve, something psychic, something happening inside people’s minds. I like movies that are psychological or psychic or mystical. Freddy Krueger wasn’t just an ordinary human being. He was some kind of demon in another world, with magical powers and magical weaknesses. That made him more interesting. And anybody has the ability to go to his world and see him. All you have to do is fall asleep. It could happen to you.

I wonder what would happen if you tried to combine several different themes into one movie. Try to combine liberating someone from a bad world and setting them free in a better world, while fighting bad guys who have magical powers, in order to raise a family and fall in love and have sex and have babies, so that we can enjoy our time together with our friends and we can learn and study together and have adventures and explore amazing new things we’ve never seen, while also coming home to a comforting, familiar place.

That would be a long movie. It would be kind of like real life. It might take ninety years or so to finish watching the movie.

Why not???

October 17, 2010

So, I’ve gotten a couple emails back and forth with Carrie. She (and also Curtis) doesn’t understand why Curtis and I can’t be friends. I kept telling her and him that he must block me permanently out of his life and tell me to stay away from him, because later on, he’s going to hurt me when I start asking too muh from him, and I’m going to be giving him the creeps or bothering him too much. She says that it should be okay for us to be friends.

Why not? Why is this such a big deal to me?
1. I am head over heels in love with him.
2. He has a girlfriend who he will marry sometime, though I don’t know when.
3. I want to fuck his brains out. Also, I fantasize about having his baby, although I probably won’t do that right this instant. That seems like a good reason why his girlfriend might not want me to be near him.
4. He probably weighs less than I do. My weight ranges from 120 to 135 pounds or so. I could probably rape him without his consent. However, that won’t be necessary, because, as I’ve said before, he sometimes seemed attracted to me, depending on our moods. And no, I would not do that in reality, but I am saying this as a joke to get the point across that letting me see him is a bad idea.

(“jokes” almost always come from the voices, not from me. Men really do get raped for real. Everyone who watched shawshank redemption knows about prison rape. But women can rape men in several ways too. In reality I always want to treat him with respect and I can barely even touch his arm or shoulder for a fraction of a second without worrying that I made him uncomfortable. It is very unlikely that I would ever do that.)

So, yes, some of that was a joke, but it is true, it’s not just an ordinary harmless friendship. It is a friendship, yes. But it is not harmless or innocent. I am being controlled by “them,” and they are giving me this feeling of lying and sneaking and having an evil plan and taking advantage of carrie’s trust. They gave me a hallucination vision of people in the ocean near the shore, and a lady was laughing and smiling with her back turned to a shark coming up behind her in the water. The voice said “shark in shallow water,” and everyone else could see the shark except her. That might represent her friend Jayme, though. Jayme could easily cheat with Curtis if they wanted to. The voices were calling her shallow because she (Carrie) is an enneagram type nine, or seems to be, so she tends to believe everything is all right when it isn’t.

Anyway I get jealous thinking about Jayme with Curtis. But the point is that I am not just a harmless friend. I am also not just an ordinary person. I am a targeted individual who hears voices and gets controlled by other people inside my head. My life is very strange. I have motives for seeing him and she hasn’t explicitly consented to a “multiamory” relationship.

I guess I will post this and go home.

a link to the page about enneagram and instincts

October 16, 2010

http://www.ocean-moonshine.net/e142857369/index.php?module=pagemaster&PAGE_user_op=view_page&PAGE_id=26&MMN_position=84:80

That is a link to the page where I am reading about the enneagram and the instinctual types.

envy – she’s more fascinating than I am; the soul murderers; a fraction of my potential

October 16, 2010

1:43 PM 10/16/10

I am probably self-pres/social (sp/so) in my instinctual stackings. When I first read about the instincts, and I saw the description of the sp/so, I instantly said, ‘I think I’m that one – the most boring of all the types!’ That was the very first one that I chose for myself. I think my first impression was right. But ‘They,’ the voices, have forced me to change my labels over and over again, so that I’ve gone through almost every single one.

Curtis and Carrie made a new friend named Amber, and I saw Curtis talking to her a couple times (yet another reason why I want him to make his page private and block me from seeing it). I looked at her myspace page. She is probably a Sexual type, but I don’t know if she’s sx/so or sx/sp. She might be sx/so. I don’t know which enneagram type she is.

Envy: I will never be as fascinating and attractive as she is. I read her page, and every single word was interesting and wonderful and expressive and passionate. In contrast with her, I am a stick in the mud, I am cold and boring and unfriendly.

Someday when I have a shield that blocks the attacks, I will be able to express more of my personality, the parts of myself that are trapped and silenced. Then I could be a more interesting person. Right now, my brain is functioning at a very small fraction of its real potential because of the constant attacks and the sleep deprivation. My real soul, my true self, is a lot more interesting than this. But nobody can see it until I am protected against the attacks.

And no, I’ll never be as fascinating as she is, and I’ll never be as fascinating as any other Sexual instinctual type, but I can be more interesting than I am now. I am functioning at my lowest potential because of the soul murderers. It is also because of having to work too much, and because of the drug residues, and being physically unhealthy overall. But it’s mostly sleep deprivation from the soul murderers, and the constant attacks on me anytime I look deeply into my mind or change my mind state at all, or try to learn anything or take risks or do anything different from the usual, or try to do self-improvement of any kind. It is mostly the soul murderers.

looking in his eyes

October 16, 2010

I googled “octopus garden” (because it was on Carrie’s page) and found lots and lots of beautiful artwork. I had to read the lyrics to the song. I don’t know why she was talking about that.

I couldn’t look him in the eye very much when I stalked him the other day. I did, a little bit, for a few fractions of a second. (The voices have been singing the line from ‘Show Me Heaven,’ the song I downloaded recently: ‘I’m frightened as much as you,’ that line. They are trying to tell me that he is as scared of me as I am of him.) Mostly, I looked down at his shirt and his apron, noticing that he’s in a different uniform now, not the Weis uniform that I always saw him in.

I can’t look in his eyes, when we are standing close to each other, because I feel intensely excited, almost orgasmic, looking in his eyes. It’s like there are no boundaries between us and he can see everything that I’m feeling, he can see how vulnerable I am, how desperately I need him. I knew he was at work, I knew he had to get back to work, I knew his co-workers could see us standing there, so it seemed like the wrong moment to merge with his soul and do all the things that I wanted to do with him. So I didn’t look in his eyes much.

When I’m on drugs, I can do it. I’m able to look in his eyes and not be terrified.

success

October 15, 2010

10:37 AM 10/15/10

I’ve gotten used to walking in the door that leads directly to the produce department. I got desensitized after failing to see him, so many times, when I went there, that I started to feel as though he didn’t really work there at all, and it didn’t matter if I walked directly in the front door to the produce department, because there was no chance I’d see hm. I originally was walking in the other door, the one that’s farthest away from the produce department. I felt at first like I had to avoid jumping right in where he could see me.

Today I went with only the clothes on my back. I didn’t bring my cell phones, and I didn’t bring any money other than a couple dollars to buy something.

I went in the door directly to the produce department. I jumped right in. I walked a little way, and I saw him. It was definitely him.

I took a deep, shuddering, shaking, shivering breath. It was like a breath of ice cold air. I started shaking. I froze and didn’t move. I was about to go right up to him. He was behind the counter, at the salad bar, washing some dishes at the sink. But I didn’t go right to him. Instead I dived into the next grocery aisle and walked quickly away from him.

I walked up that aisle, and then I walked down the next aisle. I started looking at the shelves without actually looking at them, and I started crying. I was shaking and crying for a couple minutes, and wandering up and down the aisles.

Then I turned around and went back to him.

He looked straight at me across the counter, but he didn’t see me. He has glasses, and I don’t know how bad his eyes are, but for whatever reason, he didn’t recognize me when I looked at him from far away. I got closer to where he was, and I made sure it was him.

At a second glance, up closer, I thought for a minute I’d made a mistake, because he had more facial hair than before. He has a mustache today. I’m not sure if he had a beard, too – not really, maybe a little bit. It’s just a shadow of hair, not fluffy. But I looked and I was sure it was him.

I went around to the opening where you walk behind the counter.

‘Hey!’…. (no answer)… ‘Hey!’…. (no answer)…. (feeling awkward and embarrassed)… ‘HEY CURTIS!’ He looked up and saw me and walked over to me.

He smelled sweet, it was wonderful, it was that perfume, whatever it is, very faint. I smelled him as soon as he was close to me.

And then, it was nothing. We were just two people talking to each other. We were both of us calm. ‘I just wanted to say hello,’ I said.

Curtis: ‘You still at Weis?’

Me: ‘No.’ (low voice, shook my head slowly, sad smile. Am I still at Weis? If you only knew. Am I still at Weis??? Could I be there without you?)

Curtis: ‘It’s better here. I’m getting $8.90 an hour.’

(I had the urge to say, ‘That’s more than I’m making,’ but I didn’t say it. I’ve made $12/hour at a job many years ago. Our wages don’t matter. All that matters is I’m seeing you. So I said nothing.)

Me: ‘I won’t bug you. I know you’re at work.’

So he turned and looked back at the sink where he had been washing dishes, and then looked at me, and then I waved a little wave at him, and he went back to work, and I turned and left. That’s all.

Less is more.

When I drove away in my car, I cried.

I don’t know if I can go back and see him again. I’ll find out.

********
He’s clueless. Totally, completely clueless. He doesn’t read my blog: that’s one thing that ‘they’ tried to make me believe – they tried to make me believe he reads my blog. And if he doesn’t read my blog, and doesn’t know that I’m not at Weis, then Carrie must not have told him what I told her in my email about how I lost my job at Weis. She didn’t answer that email, so she might not have gotten it. She usually answers emails. I got an email from him in reply to the email where I sent him a link to my blog. The reply said something like, ‘I don’t need your help, this is Curtis, no one is hacking my email,’ and a couple other things. If he replied to that email and didn’t even read the blog that I sent him a link to, that seems strange to me. The reply had the link in it too. I don’t know if he really wrote that or not.

I know, it’s confusing. It IS confusing, that’s the whole point. I have had several times where I asked him if he received an email from me, and he said no. I don’t know which ones he’s received and I don’t know what they said. I don’t know if they really said what I wrote in them, or if they were changed. I don’t know anything.

I know that he’s there, though. I saw him. He was real. That is the one nice thing about today, I saw him there.

success

October 15, 2010

10:37 AM 10/15/10

I’ve gotten used to walking in the door that leads directly to the produce department. I got desensitized after failing to see him, so many times, when I went there, that I started to feel as though he didn’t really work there at all, and it didn’t matter if I walked directly in the front door to the produce department, because there was no chance I’d see hm. I originally was walking in the other door, the one that’s farthest away from the produce department. I felt at first like I had to avoid jumping right in where he could see me.

Today I went with only the clothes on my back. I didn’t bring my cell phones, and I didn’t bring any money other than a couple dollars to buy something.

I went in the door directly to the produce department. I jumped right in. I walked a little way, and I saw him. It was definitely him.

I took a deep, shuddering, shaking, shivering breath. It was like a breath of ice cold air. I started shaking. I froze and didn’t move. I was about to go right up to him. He was behind the counter, at the salad bar, washing some dishes at the sink. But I didn’t go right to him. Instead I dived into the next grocery aisle and walked quickly away from him.

I walked up that aisle, and then I walked down the next aisle. I started looking at the shelves without actually looking at them, and I started crying. I was shaking and crying for a couple minutes, and wandering up and down the aisles.

Then I turned around and went back to him.

He looked straight at me across the counter, but he didn’t see me. He has glasses, and I don’t know how bad his eyes are, but for whatever reason, he didn’t recognize me when I looked at him from far away. I got closer to where he was, and I made sure it was him.

At a second glance, up closer, I thought for a minute I’d made a mistake, because he had more facial hair than before. He has a mustache today. I’m not sure if he had a beard, too – not really, maybe a little bit. It’s just a shadow of hair, not fluffy. But I looked and I was sure it was him.

I went around to the opening where you walk behind the counter.

‘Hey!’…. (no answer)… ‘Hey!’…. (no answer)…. (feeling awkward and embarrassed)… ‘HEY CURTIS!’ He looked up and saw me and walked over to me.

He smelled sweet, it was wonderful, it was that perfume, whatever it is, very faint. I smelled him as soon as he was close to me.

And then, it was nothing. We were just two people talking to each other. We were both of us calm. ‘I just wanted to say hello,’ I said.

Curtis: ‘You still at Weis?’

Me: ‘No.’ (low voice, shook my head slowly, sad smile. Am I still at Weis? If you only knew. Am I still at Weis??? Could I be there without you?)

Curtis: ‘It’s better here. I’m getting $8.90 an hour.’

(I had the urge to say, ‘That’s more than I’m making,’ but I didn’t say it. I’ve made $12/hour at a job many years ago. Our wages don’t matter. All that matters is I’m seeing you. So I said nothing.)

Me: ‘I won’t bug you. I know you’re at work.’

So he turned and looked back at the sink where he had been washing dishes, and then looked at me, and then I waved a little wave at him, and he went back to work, and I turned and left. That’s all.

Less is more.

When I drove away in my car, I cried.

I don’t know if I can go back and see him again. I’ll find out.

********
He’s clueless. Totally, completely clueless. He doesn’t read my blog: that’s one thing that ‘they’ tried to make me believe – they tried to make me believe he reads my blog. And if he doesn’t read my blog, and doesn’t know that I’m not at Weis, then Carrie must not have told him what I told her in my email about how I lost my job at Weis. She didn’t answer that email, so she might not have gotten it. She usually answers emails. I got an email from him in reply to the email where I sent him a link to my blog. The reply said something like, ‘I don’t need your help, this is Curtis, no one is hacking my email,’ and a couple other things. If he replied to that email and didn’t even read the blog that I sent him a link to, that seems strange to me. The reply had the link in it too. I don’t know if he really wrote that or not.

I know, it’s confusing. It IS confusing, that’s the whole point. I have had several times where I asked him if he received an email from me, and he said no. I don’t know which ones he’s received and I don’t know what they said. I don’t know if they really said what I wrote in them, or if they were changed. I don’t know anything.

I know that he’s there, though. I saw him. He was real. That is the one nice thing about today, I saw him there.

He’s not in the movies

October 14, 2010

So I struggled to watch carrie’s YouTube movies, but the thing kept locking up and quit downloading over and over again, and it would let me watch any movie except hers.

The murderers have been making me angry lately – I almost broke my hand this morning because I punched the pillow and my fist hit the hard floor under the pillow (I sleep on a mat on the floor) and almost broke the bones in my hand. I did that because the murderers were buzzing the bubbles in my stomach, making it churn and grind painfully, and I screamed “stop it!” and punched the pillow. They did stop for about a minute or two, then started again. Buzzing the bubbles in my stomach is an attack very similar to the type of attack that makes you kick your legs.

Somebody needs to track down the source of the attacks and kill them, because I don’t see the police or the courts bothering to put them in jail.

I was able to watch every movie except carrie’s. Hers kept stopping and wouldn’t load. Every other movie, no exceptions , worked fine. “Strangling” the Internet is something the murderers do.

Someone needs to kill them. Someone needs to track down where the attacks are coming from, and destroy the system they’re using and kill the people doing it. I would put them in jail but every victim knows that the jails and the police don’t believe they exist and they won’t even talk about trying to track down where the attacks are coming from. So the only people who can do it are the vigilantes, and they won’t be bothered with making a jail to put them in.

I would need a directional detector. I would have to detect both sonic and electromagnetic attacks because I don’t know which ones are being used. If it comes from a satellite then the vigilantes need to make rockets or some other flying object to go up and destroy the satellites, because of course, the government won’t destroy their own satellites or those of another country merely because they’re being used to torture innocent human beings, which is what they are there for.

Anyway, Curtis wasn’t in the movies, what little I could watch of them. His arm was visible in the side for a minute in one of them. I could only see a few fragments of her movie.

The murderers have been worse than usual lately. They are trying to threaten me because I’m likely to be successful at finding Curtis if I keep looking. And when I find him he’ll probably tell me that he never got any emails from me or something. Also they are worse because I lost my job at weis, but if they would let me sleep at nigt, I wouldn’t have any trouble keeping jobs. They want to make it impossible to keep a job, and then they want to kill you as punishment for failing to keep a job. I can’t wait till the day when the vigilantes kill them. It will happen.