Archive for November, 2010

Toy Stories and pretending; taking Peter to the store; why Tammy doesn’t drive now

November 30, 2010

3:00 PM 11/30/10

I’m resting today. No caffeine pills this morning, but I am having a little bit of coffee now. I’m recovering from one of those stomach viruses where I figure out that I’m sick so I stop eating and stop drinking, and I never throw up, I just get really dehydrated for 12 hours or so. I couldn’t even take more than a sip of water at a time.

I ‘got the file out’ a few more times today and yesterday. I have a backlog of garbage that I have mostly cleared out. The piles of trash in my bedroom are gone, but I have ‘objects’ on the floor now, mysterious unexplained things that need an official place to be. They’re not garbage, and I mean to keep them. But they need a more permanent place besides sitting on the floor in my bedroom.

This is going slowly, but at least I am doing a little bit. I don’t trust myself. Anytime I’ve tried self-improvement or time management, bad things have happened, or the enthusiasm wears off after a few weeks, or it’s just a passing fad, or I have a disaster and I end up worrying about and dealing with the disaster, and when I go back to trying to do the time management again, I feel too hopeless to try. I really would like to practice time management for the rest of my life, till the day I die. I would like to be conscious of my time management. I don’t mean that I need to be obsessed with it or anal-retentive about it. I don’t mean that it has to be perfect, or that every second of every day has to be scheduled down to the smallest detail. I just want this to be something I am aware of, and trying to do, forever, so that I can achieve more of the goals that I set for myself, the ones without deadlines, the goals where nobody will come to my house and arrest me if I fail to do it, the no-pressure goals where nobody cares, except me, if I never achieve the goal.

Somebody at my apartment complex doesn’t watch Toy Story! There were a few toys in the dumpster today, and a bunch of them fell out when the trash truck lifted it, because the dumpster was overflowing with stuff this time. (I usually don’t notice. I haven’t been going to the dumpster for a while!) There were some rubber dinosaur toys. I used to have a bunch of those. They are probably still in the attic at home. The dinosaur toys next to the dumpster were actually pretty cool. I would have wanted them if I was still collecting dinosaurs. There were some matchbox cars too (I don’t know if that was their official brand name or not, but they were matchbox-like cars). It makes me sad because I feel like toys are alive and they have feelings, just like in the movie. I really, sincerely used to feel exactly like that.

I haven’t been buying or collecting any toys for a long time, but I still sometimes feel that desire to collect them. And now that I’m an adult, I have so much more money. I could collect every single toy and I could make the collection absolutely perfectionistic, and I would have every single piece, and every single thing ever made in that toy collection. I used to try to do that with Hasbro’s My Little Pony toys.

What did I used to ‘play’ when I played with toys? Sometimes I played alone. Sometimes I played with my brother, and sometimes with the neighbor kids. We had various ‘plots’ for the stories that we would play. Sometimes the plots were very creative. Other times they were dull, reassuring routines. My brother John and I both felt like we were ‘losing our creativity’ as we got older, and the plots for my toy stories weren’t as interesting as they used to be.

I remember one big story my brother and I did. We had Fabuland Legos, and the animals went on an adventure and got stuck in The Glue of Time. It was like being in a time-travel rift or something. They were trapped in another dimension and some of the other animals had to go rescue them.

Also, when Bonnie Bunny got mad, she sort of sounded like Miss Piggy from the Muppets. She would say, ‘mad, mad, mad, mad, mad… BIGGGGG BUNNNNYYYY!’ and she’d transform herself, and then we would bring out my huge, pink, stuffed bunny which was hundreds of feet tall compared to the Fabuland toys. Then she would do whatever she needed to do.

I had one of the ‘dull, reassuring routine’ plots that I often played with the neighbor kid Jeremy in West Virginia. It was ‘feed the dinosaurs.’ The dinosaurs were made from hollowed out rubber, and some of them had a big hole in their mouths which went into the hollowed out body. So you could stuff things down in there, as long as you could get them out again. We used to make them eat grass and weeds and other growing plants. We just sat there feeding the dinosaurs. Then, when they got full, we would hold them by the tail and beat them so that the food would fly back out of their mouths and they would be empty again. That was all we did. Sounds boring, doesn’t it? But it was comforting. I guess it was like wanting to grow up and become a shepherd and watch the sheep grazing, or something. It’s also a lot like playing Roller Coaster Tycoon, and watching the little people as they buy burgers and pizza from your little shops. It’s satisfying somehow.

Playing pretend, while cooperating with someone else, is an interesting process, and I’d like to read more books about it. I have a book somewhere in my ‘google books’ list online, but I forget what it’s called and I’d have to look it up – oh, it’s called ‘The House of Make Believe,’ that’s it. Anyway, when we cooperatively played pretend, one person would suggest something: ‘Let’s pretend that he can’t talk anymore.’ (Yes, that was the result of me ‘hearing voices’ right now while I’m typing.) So one of the toys would be trying to give a message to someone or ask for help, and they weren’t able to talk, because they were under an evil magic spell. And you almost always say ‘yes’ to whatever they suggest, and try to go along with it. Then you adapt the story that’s developing to whatever they suggested. And you don’t know what the outcome will be.

You can see social dominance in whoever gets to decide what the main plot will be. Sometimes one person does most of the suggesting, and the other person does most of the adapting. Sometimes you play with kids who are more violent and aggressive, and they want to fight battles with you constantly. I didn’t usually like plots where you fought battles all the time and were always competing and trying to win. I liked peaceful scenarios and cooperative scenarios. I liked it when there were good guys and bad guys, and the bad guys lose in the end, but neither I, nor my friend, are stuck in the role of ‘bad guy,’ but we both might help to operate the ‘bad guy’ toys, and then cooperatively fight against them.

Playing pretend with toys might be helpful for writing fiction stories as an adult. I could remember what types of things I liked to pretend, and try to remember why I felt that the plots were somehow boring or unsatisfying later on. For whatever reason, after a while, I felt like I wasn’t getting what I needed from playing with toys. One reason was because my best friend Jeremy moved away. The other friends I had weren’t the ‘cooperative imaginary playing with toys’ kind of friends. Many of them were the ‘physical outdoor play with large objects’ kind of friends. For instance, we might play volleyball, or do gymnastics, at my friend Christina’s house. And my friend Sarah and I once built a sort of treehouse, but really, it was just a couple of big heavy branches and ropes strung between two trees, and the branches were big enough to walk on. Neither one of them liked imaginary toy scenarios. I liked playing with both of them, but I couldn’t expect them to play toy stories with me.

I wrote fiction stories as a teenager, and many of the images came out of the dreams I had at night. This was before I was consciously aware of ‘hearing voices,’ and anytime I heard voices or talked to anybody in my head, I viewed it as a ‘psychic’ experience instead of an attack. So that was how I got a lot of ideas for my stories.

Later on, there was Rachael, my best friend in middle and high school, but she didn’t play with toys either. With her, I had the most interesting intellectual conversations that I’ve ever had with anybody. And she enjoyed reading my fiction stories and cheering me on, and she would wait excitedly and impatiently for the next bit of the story to be written. (No, my stories weren’t that great. She was just a very good friend and a very enthusiastic person.)

So I mostly liked cooperative, peaceful scenarios. I didn’t like competition, and I felt that I wasn’t very good at it. When I tried to compete, I felt like I usually lost. I didn’t like submitting and being inferior. I didn’t like playing with bossy kids who wanted to beat me down and brag about how great they were for winning against me.

But it’s interesting to look at the pretend scenarios that I used to play. We play them because we want to, because they make us feel good. I’d like to know what kinds of stories make me and other people feel good, so that we want to play them, or read them, or watch them, whether it’s a video game or a book or movie.

I didn’t play in many sports, but I did run track. Running track was competitive, but I didn’t get off on thinking about how great I was compared to all the people I had beaten. I was more into enjoying the excitement of traveling in a bus to go to some other school, and the fear and terror and excitement just before the start of a race, and then, running as fast as I could and enjoying that, but also, I had my limits, and I was a mediocre track runner, and I didn’t win a lot there either. And I wasn’t obsessive about trying to win.

I was a really fast runner if I was in a small group of people. In a small group, I could beat almost anyone. But if the group of people got larger, I became more mediocre in comparison. More and more people could run as fast as I could. So I didn’t win much at the multi-school track meets. In fact, I still remember the two little girls who always beat me. It was the same people at every track meet. I think it was these twins, and I think they were black. Am I crazy? Am I remembering correctly? I seem to remember these two black girls who were twins and they were small and they could run the hundred-yard dash faster than I could, every time, and it was hopeless. Maybe it was only one girl, and it’s not very likely that she was black, because we had almost zero black people in the area where I grew up. I think I’m remembering wrong. I just know that this one girl (or twins) could ALWAYS beat me at the dash, and there was no hope, ever. Their legs were just designed better than mine.

Actually, I had some problems, over time – my knees started to hurt, and I had ‘shin splints’ (where the bones in your ankles are slightly cracked, a tiny bit, and it hurts) and I couldn’t run very well anymore, and I didn’t have any energy either. That must have been during my ‘chronic fatigue’ phase that was happening in my teenage years. I think I was having a reaction to pesticides at that time, but also, I wasn’t eating well. We didn’t always have a lot of good food at the house, and I ate tons of cereal and pop-tarts, constantly, because there was nothing else to eat. ‘Being trapped in a house with nothing to eat’ is one of those things that almost all teenagers experience. You’re helpless, you can’t drive a car, and you don’t have a job, so you don’t have much money except maybe a small allowance, and you might not be allowed to cook freely either. And that’s right when you’re growing and getting a lot bigger really quickly, so you need huge amounts of healthy food. (Steak for breakfast.)

I’m waiting for Peter to call. He wants to go to the grocery store this evening. His wife has a problem with her driver’s license. This is one of those things that I can understand and relate to, but at the same time, it never happened to me, because whatever happened to me, it wasn’t quite as bad as it was with her. Here’s the story.

First, Peter isn’t allowed to drive, because he hasn’t been able to control his low blood sugar attacks, and the doctors took away his license. The one doctor said that he could have his license back, maybe, if he used a constant blood sugar monitor. He has the monitor now, but he’s not using it, and it doesn’t matter anyway, because they don’t have a car right now.

They actually have two cars. One is a van, and the other is a white car, I forget what kind. The white car is sitting in the lot at the tow truck place. It’s basically possessed by the tow truck people now, and they would have to pay a big fee to get it back. The van is sitting in front of their apartment. Both cars are either barely working, or not working, and need lots of repair and maintenance. Both of them have expired registrations. Both of them have expired auto insurance. Both of them are uninspected.

Tammy is trapped in an ‘I can’t do paperwork’ rut. She had the money. She had a job. But for whatever reason, she couldn’t bring herself to do the paperwork, fill out the forms, pay the fees, and keep the cars legal. I actually understand EXACTLY how that is, but somehow, I got myself out of it, and it’s happened to me several times.

There’s kind of a funny story to that, for me. This happened earlier this year, in 2010. I had an expired inspection sticker on my car. The cops pulled me over two or three times for OTHER things – once was because my registration was expired, and once was because I had a headlight out. Both times, they ignored my expired inspection sticker!

I wondered what was going on. I looked at the sticker. It said: 08 10. That actually meant that it had expired in October, 2008 (a long time ago!). When the police glanced quickly at the sticker, they were mistakenly thinking that the sticker meant it would expire in 08/10, or August 2010. It was almost a year and a half expired, since October 2008, but they were reading it backwards. Apparently, the position of the numbers was strange, or reversed, and there was no obvious indication of which number was the month, and which was the year.

I sat there in terror while the cop walked up, looked down at the inspection sticker on the front, and said, ‘Inspection’s okay,’ and continued giving me his ticket for the expired registration. I was thinking to myself, ‘What??? The inspection is OKAY? It’s been expired for a year and a half now!’ He was reading the numbers backwards.

Soon after that, I did, actually, get an inspection, and now it’s up to date.

But Tammy has had something similar happen. It is that terrible feeling that you cannot bring yourself to do some piece of paperwork. It is a physical pain, a block, an anxiety attack. I usually got myself through these attacks by using an antidepressant, St. John’s Wort, if things were getting badly behind. But for whatever reason, Tammy couldn’t get through it. Her health problems are worse than mine. She’s taking thyroid medication now because her thyroid is too low. Her face and body used to be all swollen, and it’s been improved since she started taking the thyroid pills. But she never had any energy. I can understand how that pain and anxiety of not being able to do paperwork made her not do it, for so long.

She no longer has ANY up to date paperwork for driving. Her driver’s license, insurance, registration, and inspection are all expired. The cars need repair. One of them, as I said, is waiting in the tow truck lot. Every piece of paper that can possibly be illegal, is now illegal.

Peter tried to do some of the insurance paperwork for her. But he says that the insurance people told him they need HER signature on something, and they needed to talk to HER about it, because Peter wasn’t a legal driver in the house. For whatever reason, he wasn’t allowed to finish it. I have a feeling that this is actually not as bad as he’s making it sound, but for whatever reason, whenever he tries to get Tammy to do it, she freezes up and can’t do anything. She often starts crying when they fight and when Peter tries to make her do it.

Now Peter tells me that she actually didn’t even get a driver’s license at all when she was a teenager. She got one much later, as an adult, in her twenties, I forget how old. She was used to just not driving, and didn’t really care about not leaving the house and not going anywhere. It doesn’t bother her that much not being able to drive.

That’s the reason why I sometimes drive Peter to the store. But lately I have been losing patience with this, because Peter always takes a REALLLLLY long time at the store. I am impatient because we have been doing this on my days off, and I never have enough time on my days off to rest, and to deal with my OWN disasters, like the garbage pileup. I have trouble sleeping, because of the drug residues and because of the attackers waking me up every few hours all night long, and it’s hard for me to even get out of bed before noon. Then I spend the whole afternoon with him on his errands. In some ways, I enjoy being with him and I enjoy spending time with him, but when I am worried about my own disasters, it frustrates me to take so long on something else when I could be at home, when I’m finally awake, when it’s the afternoon and I’m finally out of bed.

He will go to Wal-Mart, and he will take three hours to shop. I had complained a bit about how long these trips took, and Peter blamed it on the fact that he is riding a slow-moving motor powered shopping cart because he has foot blisters, but that’s not why it takes so long.

Peter does everything slowly. I had forgotten about that. When Peter used to work overnight at McDonald’s, people always complained that he was too slow. He would take hours and hours to do something. He shops like that too. I get impatient, and I want to run through the store and just grab something off the shelf and keep moving. But Peter has to pick it up and look at it, compare the prices to all the other prices on the shelf, pick up another item, compare the prices, gripe and complain about how the prices have gone up $0.20 because of inflation, talk about how much it costs at another store someplace else, and so on. Sometimes, he just seems to stand there, picking up one thing and then another thing, and not talking, and I don’t even really know what he’s doing or why he’s doing it, which tends to happen more when his blood sugar is crashing. (‘They’ told me Peter is an SJ. His awareness of prices is something that I like about him, actually, but it can be annoying.) And he will do this with every single item he picks up. I wouldn’t care how long he takes, but I’m the one driving him, and I’m the one escorting him around the store, watching (and smelling) to make sure his blood sugar doesn’t crash, and it almost always DOES crash, and he’s not using the constant blood sugar monitor either. The longer we stay in the store, the more likely his sugar will crash!

Peter started taking Wellbutrin to help him stop smoking. He still smokes, just not as much. But the Wellbutrin is an antidepressant, and ever since he started taking it, I’ve noticed that he’s more mellow when his sugar crashes. He will obey a suggestion if you tell him that you think he needs to check his blood sugar. In the past, when he wasn’t on Wellbutrin, he was – I can’t remember the word for it, but it’s a word that they always use to describe diabetics having an insulin reaction – it’s a word that means something like ‘feisty, noncompliant, fighting, defensive,’ something like that. I think the word was ‘combative.’ They say ‘no’ over and over again and won’t do anything at all. They won’t eat or drink anything either. He would deny that anything was wrong, and he didn’t know his sugar was crashing. He doesn’t do that as much now that he’s on Wellbutrin. No, I am not an advocate for antidepressant use – I always say that I would like to solve the root cause of the problem or find a better way to do it (for instance, the Feingold Diet to help hyperactive kids and adults). I see antidepressants as a temporary thing that you might use out of desperation, but not use them forever. But still, I have observed that some things are easier to deal with when he is on Wellbutrin.

I’m going to post this now. I’ve just been sitting and writing most of the afternoon. But I got rid of some of the trash, and I made another trash can out of a cardboard box, and I have some plans for what I am going to do to prevent these problems from happening (as badly) again, even if I get another severe chronic fatigue attack. If the system is hard to use, nobody will use it. So I’m asking ‘why does this happen?’

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The smell of fear: Someone had a seizure during Harry Potter

November 30, 2010

11:14 PM 11/29/10

I’m very annoyed about something. I am reading about some experiments where they meant to test whether there is such thing as a ‘smell of fear.’ I know absolutely for sure that there is. However, these tests, all the ones that I’m reading about, were focused on the armpits. They always tried things like putting a pad under the armpits to collect the sweat while you watch a scary movie or when you were about to go skydiving. They assume that it’s a ‘smell’ and that it comes from the armpits because the armpits smell and because you are sometimes consciously aware of sweating from your armpits when you are anxious. It’s true, I know that I myself have sometimes sweated from the armpits when I was anxious. But that’s not all there is.

Those tests are badly designed and I was very annoyed every time I read about yet another ‘armpit sweat’ test. The ‘fear smell’ isn’t even a ‘smell.’ I don’t smell an odor. Not only that, but it could come from lots of other places besides the armpits. There is no reason to believe that the armpits have anything to do with it at all. It could be breathed out of the lungs, whatever it is. It could be sweated all over the body through the skin, not just the armpits. It might even be an oil-soluble substance secreted through the oils of the skin.

It happens when Peter’s blood sugar crashes. When I walk into the room, I feel fear immediately. I feel it in myself. I feel terrified for no reason. My heart starts pounding. It’s a normal room and I don’t see anything scary. I just feel terrified for no reason, right away. I know myself. I’m 36 years old. I know when it’s normal, and when it isn’t normal, to suddenly get terrified and feel my heart pounding.

I don’t ‘smell’ anything at all. But as soon as I breathe the air around him, I become terrified. I know right away that his blood sugar is crashing.

I didn’t talk about this incident. Something happened the first time I went to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. It was during the scene where Harry and Hermione are alone, and Ron has just recently left. In fact, I think it was just before the dance scene that I liked so much. Harry and Hermione are walking around up on top of a cliff. The ground is rocky and irregular. Tiny snowflakes begin to fall. They talk about going to Godric’s Hollow, and Hermione agrees to go.

Right at that moment, I heard a strange sound coming from behind me in the audience. It was way up near the top. Some person started breathing in and out making loud whooping noises. I thought that it was a retarded kid or an autistic kid or somebody who made uncontrollable noises. I’ve heard that sound made by many different people for different reasons.

Suddenly a kid ran out the door, followed by a couple other kids. The kid shouted ‘I don’t want to be here anymore! I want to go home!’ The other kids followed her out the door. She just ran away for no reason. I didn’t know what was going on.

Then a minute later, a guy stood up and said (yes, he really said this, for real, just like on TV), ‘Is there a doctor in the house?’ Nobody went to him. Nobody answered. They then started making phone calls to 911, and somebody got a movie theatre employee to stop the movie while they waited for the ambulance.

I started tapping my face, my hands, my collarbones, and my ribs using Roger Callahan’s Thought Field Therapy, but actually, I wasn’t using any particular sequence, and Thought Field Therapy is very specific and it claims that the order of your tapping is very important… so actually, I was using ‘Emotional Freedom Techniques’ or EFT, instead of TFT. (I looked this up on the net again. I’ve known about it for years because of Nathaniel Branden mentioning it.) I was just tapping myself randomly wherever I felt like tapping, in no particular order.

The movie people came in and made an announcement that the movie would start up again in a few minutes and everything would be okay.

I was tapping myself because I started to feel fear and panic. It went right through the whole audience. I smelled that same fear that I always smell when Peter’s blood sugar crashes.

I was tapping myself also, because I had the urge to go help the guy who asked, ‘Is there a doctor in the house?’ I’m not a doctor. But my dad is a radiologist, and my mom is a nurse (although they’re not working anymore). I’ve studied medicine, and alternative medicine, on my own. I have experience with a person who has a chronic health problem that causes him to have incidents of low blood sugar and ambulance calls. So I thought there was a chance that I might know the answer to their question, if someone had an unexplained attack, and if they didn’t know what was causing it.

After a minute of tapping, I calmed myself down. The tapping actually works. I still smelled and felt the fear, but I was calm and in control of myself. So I got up, and I quietly walked over to the people in the back row. I walked down all the steps, to the front of the audience, and walked across the room in front of everyone. I was the only person who did this. It was unusual, and actually, I was embarrassed. But I thought that now is not the time to worry about inappropriate behavior, because this is an emergency.

So I walked up the steps on the other side, and went to the people who had the problem. The row in front of them was empty except one guy who had stayed there. (After a couple minutes, that guy left, while I was still sitting there.) I sat next to him because he was right in front of the people with the problem. I quietly asked the one guy, in the row behind me, the guy who was standing up, next to the person who seemed to have passed out, the guy who had said ‘is there a doctor in the house,’ I asked him, ‘What was it that happened?’

He said, ‘I don’t think people should be coming over here and asking questions.’

I said, ‘I’m sorry I made you angry.’

‘What?’

‘I’m sorry I made you angry.’

He nodded his head and didn’t say anything else to me. This felt to me like ‘I accept your apology,’ and I didn’t leave, I stayed, and I persisted.

Then I looked at the lady who was holding the man in her arms. He had passed out and was lying with his head back. I could see that he was still breathing, and he was alive. He was passed out and not talking. The smell of fear was very strong all around these people. The children had moved out of the seats, and they were sitting against the wall instead of sitting in the seats next to the guy who passed out. That was one of the kids who had run away, the girl who had said ‘I want to go home.’ She had come back and was now waiting with them for the ambulance. She was crying. Her mother was holding the man passed out. Her mother was talking to her and telling her that we were waiting for the ambulance and it was going to be okay. I think there were three kids. One was a little girl, then an older boy, then a teenage boy, if I recall. One of the kids said, ‘This was the worst Harry Potter ever.’ That would have been kind of funny, if it weren’t in such a bad situation. The kids will always remember that one time when they went to see Harry Potter and dad passed out and had a seizure.

I knew it was a seizure because that’s what they said when they were talking. I was listening. I found out that they already knew what had happened. The mother was talking to someone else. It might have been when she was talking to the 911 people on her cell phone. She made a couple of phone calls during this time. One person she talked to was a friend or family member, someone who knew them.

This guy had had a brain tumor. He had had surgery on the brain tumor. For a while, he was on anti-seizure medications because of the tumor and the surgery. This had happened before. But he had been off the anti-seizure medicine for a few months. She said that the last time he took it was in February.

So now I knew what had happened. I quietly asked her, ‘Does he just fall asleep after a seizure?’ She nodded. Because he seemed to be asleep. He was snoring. (‘Why’s he snoring?’ the little girl asked anxiously.) I knew he was probably going to be okay, now that I understood that it was only a seizure, and that he was still breathing, and seemed to be asleep. He needed to recover and wake up, and the smell of fear was causing everyone else to be terrified too, and it was a very, very strong smell. I didn’t smell an odor, but it was in the air all around them. There was no odor at all. I just knew the air was bad. It made me feel uncontrollably terrified, and the only thing calming me down was that I was, now and then, tapping the Callahan TFT points.

I was there because I thought that maybe, whoever it was, they wouldn’t know what was going on. I thought it could possibly be something I would know the answer to, in case they didn’t know. There was a chance. I’m not a doctor, but I know a lot of random things from spending years and years reading about medicine, having parents who were both in medicine, and having a friend who gets frequent ambulance calls and goes to the doctor a lot. But they knew what it was: a seizure.

So I stayed there until the ambulance people came, and I watched as they lifted him up and took him away, and the whole family went along. I wasn’t able to tell them anything useful. After a minute or two, I got up and left too.

I went back to my seat. I said to the lady beside me, ‘He had a seizure. That’s what happened.’ She just nodded and said, ‘Oh.’ The movie started up again. The smell of fear was still very strong. I felt sick and unable to relax for the rest of the movie.

That’s why I went to see it again a second time that very same night. I ended up in a different theatre than I was in the first time. I was much more relaxed that time.

So if anyone says, ‘Is there a doctor in the house?’ and if nobody else says ‘Yes,’ I might possibly pretend to be a doctor, if I happen to find out that nobody else knows what to do or knows what’s going on. I am not a doctor, but I play one on the internet. I am a doctor of last resort.

It was a very strange experience. I didn’t talk about it, because I wasn’t really happy about it. It was scary and unpleasant. I already knew that Thought Field Therapy or Emotional Freedom Techniques actually work – I’ve used them before. They made me much calmer than I otherwise would have been. They are the reason why people naturally hug each other and hold each other, and touch their own faces or hug themselves, in scary situations. People already know this, but some observers have made it into a more exact science, and so we have EFT, TFT, acupressure, and other systems. They give you a more specific idea of which places to tap or put pressure on. And you can feel a pleasant tickling, relaxing sensation when you are in the right place.

I’m not going to argue about whether or not it’s a ‘placebo…’ The ‘placebo effect blog’ is still on my infinite to-do list. I want to talk about why ‘the placebo effect’ is a huge fallacy misleading millions of people. But that’s for another day. You have people who are helpless in a scary situation, and then, you have people who know how to control themselves using ‘the placebo effect.’ It doesn’t matter if it’s a ‘placebo.’ It works. That’s enough arguing for now.

Well, I was reading about the smell of fear because I am still trying to understand why I can’t eat bone marrow. I don’t have a definite answer yet. I don’t know the name of the hormone or chemical in the bone marrow that caused me to get sick. I just know that it happened.

Placebo effect blog… some other day… enough for now.

The redhaired Amish boy had a baby bird in his arms

November 29, 2010

7:13 PM 11/29/10

Today I went out to buy some Amish milk. First, while I was on the way there, I went to Burger King. I was delighted to see Joe, who used to work with me at Nittany Mall McDonald’s, working at the drive-thru at Burger King. I told him I’d see him again because I’m always there.

Then I went on to the Amish house where I buy the milk. I saw one of the little boys, the redhaired one, out walking around. He saw me driving up the road. He recognizes me by now. Most of them have seen me. I’ve gone there every couple weeks, on and off, for a few months now.

He walked up to my car. Usually I get out and wander around for a few minutes, while the dogs bark at me, and the barking dogs alert them to know that I’m there, so somebody will eventually come out of the house or out from the barn. There’s a sign saying you can honk your horn if nobody knows you’re there. So it was unusual for him to walk right up to my car.

I opened my window and I asked him how he was doing. ‘Good, but I found this little bird in the barn,’ and he showed me that he was carrying a little white baby dove. ‘I didn’t even see that you were carrying that!’ I said. He had had it protected in his arms. I asked him when he had found it and if he had showed it to anybody else yet. I felt like he needed to tell somebody about it, to get help. He said he would show it to his brother because his brother knew a lot about birds.

I was getting my money out while talking to him, and I got out $1.50. He said, ‘Could you hold it for me while I go get your stuff? It looks like you want one half gallon?’ I said yeah, and he handed the little bird to me, and it made a little ‘cheeeeep’ noise, but then settled down. And then he ran off to the barn where they have the fridge full of milk.

I held the little white bird in my arms while I sat in the car. It was trembling. He had said it was a baby, and it couldn’t fly yet, and it fell from its nest. It didn’t struggle while I held it. It was quiet.

When he came back and handed the milk to me, I handed back his bird. It clutched a couple of my dreadlocks with its feet. ‘It’s got my hair, it wants to hold onto something,’ I said, and I gently pulled the locks away from it. He took the bird, I thanked him, and he walked away. ‘See you later,’ I said, still sad and concerned about the bird. Then I left.

(The raw milk is the best milk that I’ve had in a long time, and I’m having the fewest digestive problems with it. It’s much better than grocery store milk. But it’s not perfect. When I drink the milk, I tend to get constipated more often than I used to, and I’d rather not have that happen. But now, I’ve gotten so used to going over to that house that I look forward to it. I don’t want to quit drinking the milk. I haven’t solved this problem yet. It’s not just about the milk and my health problems anymore. Now it’s about the people, the familiar faces that I like to see.)

**********************

I spent some time today ‘getting the file out.’ I had garbage piled up from months worth of fast food. I have had a severe chronic fatigue attack which is finally starting to get better, and I’m pretty sure it was caused by the pesticide spraying that started a couple months ago, around the beginning of October, I think. So all the garbage was a backlog.

Mark Forster talks about backlogs. It’s when you have a whole bunch of old stuff that’s been piled up for a long time. I always felt like I had to get rid of the backlog, the piled-up stuff, before I could do anything else. Sometimes I would think about ‘building infrastructure,’ as I called it – build some solution to keep this backlog from happening again. If there’s too much garbage on the floor, you need another trash can. That kind of thing. But building a solution to prevent the problem – that seemed like a luxury, something too hard for me to do. I could sometimes do it if I was on drugs.

Mark Forster is saying that you have to focus on the cause of the problem first. You have to swear that there won’t be any more backlog from now on. Everything that comes in, in the present, right now, must go into the trash can.

But ‘brute force,’ or ‘sheer willpower,’ or ‘making a rule and following it,’ doesn’t always work. That’s the ‘New Year’s Resolution’ method. Sometimes, it’s hard to do something, and that’s why you’re not doing it. Like, say you don’t bother to go check your mail every day, because your mailbox is a mile away from your house. I can understand that. I probably wouldn’t check my mail even once a month if I had to walk a mile to get to my mailbox. You don’t just make a rule saying, ‘You must walk to the mailbox, rain or shine, no matter how tired you are, every day, to check for mail!’ Nobody will follow that rule because nobody wants to walk a mile to go to the mailbox.

That means you have to have a solution that’s easy to use. The trash can might be too far away. It might be hard to find trash bags because they’re in another room. There might not be enough trash bags. You might have trash cans made out of old cardboard boxes, like I do, so you’re afraid that the bags might leak liquids onto the carpet. So you have to have more trash cans, with boxes of trash bags right next to each one, and they must be double-bagged (and you can leave the second bag in there all the time without taking it out) to make sure no liquids leak through them. They have to be easy to reach. I don’t want to twist around while I’m sitting in my seat at the computer. I would like to easily reach out to the side to a nearby trash can without stretching or leaning too far. Right now the trash can in my bedroom is way behind me, and there’s no way I could reach it from where I’m sitting at my computer.

Curtis had something like this happen to him when I visited him the other day. We sat outside on the bench where people smoke cigarettes. Another employee walked by, sweeping the sidewalk with a broom. He swept a cigarette butt right from underneath our feet. (Guilt trip.) As soon as he left, Curtis muttered, ‘I swear, I put my cigarettes in the ashtray, I swear…’ ‘Why? Was that one yours?’ I whispered. ‘Yeah, but this thing is always full,’ and he pointed to the ashtray where you were supposed to put the cigarettes. I looked at it. You have to reach to the side, and aim for a tiny hole and put the cigarette in there, and if it’s full, you have to stuff them in. If there was an open bucket full of sand, right in front of the bench, it would be easy to put the cigarettes right in it. But that ashtray was hard to use. If it’s hard to use, people won’t use it. My whole life is like that. If it’s hard to do something, then I can’t just make a rule to force myself to do it. It has to be easy to do.

So now I am thinking about setting up structures in my house that will make it easy to prevent me from piling up garbage on the floor when I get chronic fatigue attacks. And every other recurring problem that I have, including drug residue contamination outbreaks. Those are very hard to prevent. But the MF website is making me focus on the preventive structures, the easy-to-use systems, the trash cans that always have bags nearby and are always a short distance from wherever you’re sitting, the open bucket full of sand for cigarettes, and all that. Those are the most important things for me to do.

I really like adding things to the infinite to-do list. It’s true that the list is getting longer and longer, and I haven’t been dismissing anything, and MF says that dismissing items is the key to the system working the way it should. When I do start dismissing items, I’m going to rewrite them on a page in the way back of the notebook so that I don’t forget them forever. I might write a brief reason why they were dismissed. You don’t have to dismiss them forever, either. You might do them a long time from now. But they cannot be on the to-do list unless you change something to make them more relevant to your life right now.

I still have a lot of cleaning up to do. And cleaning up isn’t even progress, it’s just recovery. For REAL progress, I’d have to move to my own house, in a place where the airplanes never fly overhead spraying gypsy moth spray (they say it’s nontoxic and it isn’t a pesticide, but it’s something that disrupts the gypsy moths’ digestion – and when they sprayed it, it disrupted MY digestion, and not just a little bit, but a lot, and for a long time), in a place where there are no landlords or handymen walking into my house or my yard spraying pesticides and herbicides near where I live. If I live someplace where I don’t get sick so much, then I can make real progress in my life, and not have to lie in bed all day. There are other health issues that I need to solve by moving into a particular kind of house, but pesticides and mold are the worst ones.

Anyway, I did a little bit of work today. I don’t trust myself yet – this is just a passing fad. I still think I’m having a reaction to a drug that I was exposed to, and that I’ve gotten it onto some of my stuff. It doesn’t matter. Cleaning up drug residues is something that’s on the to-do list anyway.

I want a text editor that acts like a pen and paper

November 29, 2010

11:27 AM 11/29/10

(This became obsessive and I went off on long rants about off-topic subjects, so there really was no real point to this. I was taking a caffeine pill to wake myself up, and I haven’t eaten breakfast. Caffeine + no breakfast = obsessively long rants about small things.)

I want a text editor that acts like a pen and paper.

There are times when I WANT to use a physical pen and paper instead of typing something on the computer. Why would I want to do that? There are some things that computer screens can’t easily do.

Word processors and computer screens can do lots of wonderful things that pens and papers can’t easily do. With a pen, or even a pencil, it’s hard to erase large blocks of writing and rewrite them in another place. You’d have to erase almost everything, or cross it all out and draw little arrows pointing to the place where you wanted to move it. On the computer, you just insert something and it moves all the text out of the way easily. There are lots of other things word processors can do.

But there are features that I don’t like to use on a word processor. I don’t like to use underlines, for some reason. Usually, I don’t know that I want to underline something until after I’ve written it and then reread it. Sometimes I want to make the computer do the things that I do with a pen, and I can’t, so I do something else or do it the wrong way. I can’t write italics when I’m handwriting. The slanted letters don’t look very different from my regular letters, and they don’t stand out. So in handwriting, I usually underline something if I want to emphasize it and make it stand out. But officially, it’s supposed to be in italics, not underlined. In books and printed materials, it would be in italics. So when I write on the computer, I just don’t bother to use either italics or underlines. For some reason, I don’t want to take the trouble of pressing ctrl-u or ctrl-i. And I don’t want to use italics, I want to use underlines, because that’s what I do on paper, and I want to do the same thing on the computer. I just don’t want to use italics at all. It doesn’t feel like ‘me.’ (You’ll notice that I use only one apostrophe instead of a “quotation mark”, too. There was a book that I read, years and years ago, which used a single apostrophe instead of quotation marks, so I decided it’s okay to do that. It might have been ‘The Bobbsey Twins,’ or something, a very old copy of that book at my grandmother’s house, some really old book that probably isn’t around anymore. I don’t have to press the shift key while typing a single apostrophe.)

(Oh, yeah, speaking of ‘old books’ written on sepia-colored paper: I noticed, while watching Harry Potter for the third time, that the Three Brothers story is drawn in black, white, and tan, to make it look like it’s happening on the pages of an old book, in ink, on old tan-colored paper. And they cast shadows onto a back wall, as though they are closed inside a small space, because they’re closed inside the book, instead of moving around out in the real world.)

Sometimes that’s because I’m writing on Notepad. I like a small, simple, fast text editor instead of a slow, big, bulky one, so I write almost everything in Notepad. I don’t like to see lots and lots of toolbars and tools and menus at the top that I don’t know how to use. It makes me feel anxious and uncomfortable. I sit there thinking, ‘One of these days, I should learn how to use every single one of those things.’ And I can’t focus on my writing as much, because I start thinking about how I’d like to learn how to use EVERY SINGLE FEATURE in Microsoft Word. And they have classes, and big books, that teach you how to do those things. I’ve actually taken some classes (for free, at a job training place) years ago, and I learned how to use Excel and Word. But nobody really knows how to use every single feature, and becomes an expert on it, and can use it perfectly, and uses it often, and can do it easily… only to find that Microsoft has made another update or a new version of the program and there are new features to learn how to use, or something got moved to a different menu and you can’t find it anymore.

I don’t even like to use Wordpad much, unless I make something that’s too long for Notepad’s memory, which sometimes happens. I don’t know if that’s a bug with my hacked, spyware-infested computer, or if it’s a normal thing with the Windows 98 Notepad, but sometimes if you write a really, really long text file, it will stop you and say ‘not enough memory to complete this operation.’ So you have to save some of it in a new file.

Anyway, in Notepad, you can’t do underlines. You HAVE to use italics. I don’t know if there’s a shortcut key to do that. You have to go up to the edit/set font/ menu. And I tried that just now, and it made my WHOLE FILE into italics, instead of just one word. So when I want to emphasize something, I write ALL CAPS, and if I’m even madder than that, I’ll write *ASTERISKS* around it too. So that explains some of the style that you see in my blog – I write everything in Windows 98 Notepad.

Today, I was thinking about what I would do when I went to visit my parents. I am going to suffer from ‘enforced idleness.’ I can’t get anything done when I’m here at my apartment, but at least I feel like I COULD get something done if I wanted to. But when I’m visiting my parents in West Virginia, I’m trapped in a place far away from all the things I need to do, and there’s no chance at all that I can do anything.

So I thought about bringing my laptop with me, which I have sometimes done, and I’ve played video games or written song fragments on my laptop while I’ve been at my parents’ house. And I was thinking, ‘Fiction writing?’ I’ve considered writing books, but I haven’t been serious enough to actually start one yet. And my first thought was, ‘Nah, for that, I’d want pen and paper.’

So I asked, ‘Why?’ (And when I say ‘I’ asked, it usually means ‘they’ asked, because this was when I had been woken up and was lying in bed talking to the voices. And lately, the voices have been into the time management stuff that I’ve been reading from Mark Forster. That’s the latest fad, and I want it to last forever instead of being a passing fad. And I think I’ve had a drug residue outbreak too and I’m reacting to something which is making me more ambitious. But anyway.)

Why would I PREFER pen and paper for writing something?

Well, I can easily draw lines on the paper if I want to. I can also choose where to put something on the paper easily. If I want to put something all the way at the bottom, I can just go down and put it there, instead of having to hit ‘enter’ to go all the way down there, only to find that if I go back and write anything above it, it ‘inserts’ all those enters, and pushes the bottom words farther and farther away instead of keeping them at the bottom of the page. If I put them at the bottom of the page, I want them to stay there, and I don’t want to have to mess around with menus and special tools and techniques and commands to force it to stay there. I guess I’d have to go hit ‘insert’ or ‘overwrite’ to do that, but I don’t want to have to think about it. I tried doing that just now in Notepad, and it ignored me when I pressed the ‘insert’ button.

(Wow, I really must be on drugs. I was looking at ‘page setup’ in Notepad, and I decided to hit the little question mark and ask what it meant when it said ‘header: &f’. So I was reading about how you can print the name of the file at the top of every page, and as I was looking, I noticed that the & symbol looked like a little handicapped wheelchair symbol, and then, it also looked like a breast cancer awareness ribbon. I don’t usually do image distortions. My brain is doing unusual things today.)

So anyway. Here are all the things that I like to do with pen and paper that I can do easily. Sometimes I want to divide the page into two or more columns. Like ‘pros’ and ‘cons,’ the good side and bad side of something. You can do that with word processors, but you have to learn how, and it takes thinking and planning and using tools and toolbars and menus and commands, and you have to know what they mean, and you might even have to, heaven forbid, use NUMBERS to tell it the exact location in inches or pixels of where you want to draw the line on the paper. I don’t want to use numbers or make everything perfect. I’m not doing this for publishing. I’m doing it for thinking. It’s a sketch. I don’t care if the line is located precisely 4 inches from the side of the paper, or, was that 4 inches from the margin, or what?

I could make an ASCII art line in Notepad. I could make a | symbol (that’s called a ‘pipe,’ if you ever have to say it out loud). But I have to make each individual one and then make sure that they all line up.

blah blah blah | bleh bleh bleh
asefd weqr wqer| aaepwroi wepriour

and so on.

I want to use the mouse like a pencil. I want to left-click the mouse and draw a line on the page like I would with a drawing program. And I do NOT want to draw a line made from ‘two points,’ that is, I don’t want to click a place where the first point will be, and then stretch the line (a perfectly straight line) which sticks to the first point that I put down, and swing it around while it holds onto that point, and then click to put down the end point of the line. I just want to draw the line manually. It really annoys me when I’m used to drawing something and I try to do it on the computer and it doesn’t feel the same. I grew up writing things by hand on paper! I’m 36 years old! We didn’t have a computer through most of my childhood! And when we got one, it couldn’t do very much! So I still know how it feels to just put the pen down and draw a line on the paper without having to count the number of inches away from the side of the page or anything like that.

I have dozens of old spiral notebooks packed in the storage unit somewhere. I have been writing in spiral notebooks for decades. I cherish my spiral notebooks. And I never like to be without one. In the past, I even took the trouble of taping a piece of string to a pen cap (so that if the pen ran out of ink, I could replace the pen and leave the cap attached to the string), and then taping the other end of the string to the back of a little notepad, and bringing it to work in my pocket. (I had a whole bunch of free post-it notepads from a business that went bankrupt, a place where I used to work, but I threw them away because that box of stuff got contaminated with residue.) I can’t imagine NOT HAVING a spiral notebook in the house somewhere. It just occurred to me that other people might not feel that way about spiral notebooks. There are people who, you might go in their house, and look around, and not find a spiral notebook anywhere. They might have a pen or pencil here and there, but only for writing on a stray piece of paper. They are not going to have five or six spiral notebooks sitting around with journal entries and thoughts and drawings and random things in them.

I don’t write in spiral notebooks as much as I used to – I do most of my writing on the computer. But there are some things where a computer just won’t do, and that’s what I was asking about.

Planning something needs a spiral notebook. Real thinking. Making a structure. Making an outline. Seeing the big picture.

So to do that, I have to do strange things like draw a line down the center of the page, or draw boxes and arrows and lines. Or put something at the bottom of the page. Or write a list of things, and then go back up and add something else beside them. If I wrote a list of things in Notepad, and then tried to go back up and write something else beside them, it might insert an ‘enter’ that will push everything else on the list downwards. But on my paper, I can spread out diagonally on the side if I am only writing a comment for that one particular thing. If I know that I won’t need a comment beside every item on the list, just next to one item, then I don’t worry about using a lot of space in the comment on the side, and it might go up beside other items in the list. I’ll show you.

A
B
C
D
E
F how much I
G to talk about
H – I just wanted It’s a great letter, H.
I love the letter H.
J
K
L

(Oh no! This thing deleted all those spaces! They were there in Notepad! See what I mean? It didn’t line up like I had it. It said, ‘I just wanted to talk about how much I love the letter H. It’s a great letter, H.’ But it got all screwed up. I had these things lined up in a diagonal way, with spaces. I don’t want to mess with it anymore.)

I might make something slanted and spread it out, because I only wanted to talk about the letter H, and not all those other letters. ‘Being messy’ is something I can only do in a spiral notebook.

I’ve been enjoying Mark Forster’s blog. He has spent years trying to find ways to make himself do things. You might look at him and think that he’s a really competent, powerful, rich, famous person who’s got it all together, because he’s an AUTHOR, so everything in his life must be perfect. But actually, he’s still struggling to find out how to overcome his weakness, after all these years, after all these techniques, after all these books and newsletters and blogs, after being famous. He wishes that he could easily just do things the way other people seem to. (And that was something that the voices were saying to me, too. They were saying, ‘I was a weak-willed person who couldn’t get anything done… SO I BECAME A WORLD-RENOWNED EXPERT ON TIME MANAGEMENT!’) He still, to this day, after all these years, feels anxious and uncertain about whether he’ll get his work done today. But he has a little bit more faith than he used to have.

He seems like he might be an SP who looks around at all the SJs in school, while growing up, and wonders how those SJs can make themselves do their homework two weeks before it’s due. He was talking about that. He said that with some people, if their assignment is due in two weeks, then they will start doing it today, and do a little bit each day, and they will use up the whole two weeks. But *WE*, people like you and me, will wait until the last minute and do all of it the night before it’s due. He says, And if that’s not you, then you wouldn’t be here reading this website about time management. And then, he made me want to laugh (or cry!) even more, because he said, ‘And if it doesn’t have a deadline, then we just never do it at all!’

And yes, that’s exactly how I used to do my homework! When the assignments were easy, I could get a good grade, I’d get a 100% on an essay written in the hour before going to class. This used to make other people angry at me, because they’d spent the last three days working on it, but they got a worse grade than I did. But when I got into college, the assignments were so huge and so complicated, I couldn’t do them the night before anymore. That’s when the ‘slow and steady wins the race’ SJ types started getting better grades than I did. I couldn’t do the essay in the hour before class, and get 100% and make them all mad at me, anymore. I eventually dropped out of college. I started to feel like I wasn’t learning things that would apply to a real job in the real world. Instead, it’s like college is a great, big, giant, expensive Myers-Briggs test to find out whether you’re an SJ or an SP, and if you’re an SJ, you pass the test, and if you’re an SP, you fail.

But I love how-to books. I *LOVE* the Schaum’s Outline of Bookkeeping and Accounting. It teaches me how to do something, a process, a procedure, and it makes me do it, over and over again, in the exercises. And that book is so cheap, it’s only like $20, and I can do it all by myself without going tens of thousands of dollars in debt for a college education. I’d love to get ALL of the Schaum’s Outlines and do them all, and I’d have spent less money than I would if I went to college. And bookkeeping is something that I can use right away. I can see how it’s useful right now. I don’t have any uncertainties about where this is going. I can use it today to work with my real money.

I had some trouble when I started trying to do math with those books. There was always a prerequisite that I needed to do before I could go further. I felt like I had to PERFECTLY understand the prerequisite before I could do anything. (‘Prerequisite’: Before you take calculus, you have to know how to do algebra. That kind of thing.) When I do math, I like to understand all of the theory, about why and how this works. When I was in Calculus class in high school, I was way behind all the other students because I would sit there and mess with it until I totally understood the theory.

Instead of memorizing a function, I would re-create the function from scratch every time I needed to use it. An example: There is a universal solution to a polynomial. I might be calling it the wrong thing. I can’t recall exactly what it is. But if you fill in this function and solve it, you can find out the answer to any problem if it’s the right kind of problem. It’s like, x = +/- (the square root of) (a squared + b squared) / 4ab, or something like that. That’s almost what it is. I know that’s all wrong. And I could never remember it. I can’t memorize things very well.

(Although that wasn’t true a long time ago. I used to have a good memory, too. When I was in fourth grade, I was the only person in the class who successfully, perfectly memorized and recited ‘The Wreck of the Hesperus’ and was able to recite it in front of the class. ‘It was the schooner Hesperus…’ It’s a poem about a shipwreck, and they tie the girl to the mast so that she can survive the shipwreck. I don’t remember if she lives or not. I think she probably dies at the end. It was a sad poem. Everybody dies. Maybe I’ll have to read it again to see if it’s how I remember it. I think I vaguely recall something about a cold, dead body. So the girl probably dies.)

So instead of relying on my bad memory, instead, I studied to understand WHY that function was what it was. And I would rebuild it from scratch when I needed to use it to solve a problem. Eventually, I would have trusted my memory, if I had done this enough times to recognize that I was writing the right thing for the universal solution. But this kind of thing always made me take longer when I had to take a test.

You know, I’ve loved reading Antal Fekete ever since I first discovered him. And now, I’ve looked on his web page recently, and he has some crazy stuff about Rainbow Numbers. (It isn’t on the home page, it’s under one of the tabs at the top, in the ‘Math’ section, beside ‘Popular Economics,’ ‘Scholarly Economics,’ etc.) And I can almost understand it. It actually looks very interesting, but I’m not studying math right now, and I don’t have time.

Wow, I’m so hungry, my stomach is actually starting to burn. I might eat some cereal. I’ve been eating cereal for a few weeks now as a test. I don’t spend as much money as I used to when I would go out to Burger King and get breakfast every morning. I like to eat a heavy breakfast instead of a light breakfast. I ate bowls of cereal for breakfast through all my childhood, but in reality, I would like to have ‘dinner’ foods for breakfast. I don’t just want bacon and eggs, either. The ‘bacon and eggs’ tradition, there was a reason for it. It was easy to cook. It didn’t take long. And you could get eggs easily in the morning if you lived on a farm. But people mistakenly believe that ‘bacon and eggs’ are SACRED breakfast foods, which can only be eaten in the morning, and no other time of day, and they MUST be eaten in the morning, or it isn’t breakfast. But me, for breakfast, I want liver and onions and spinach, and I want baked beans and fish (I read that in England they might eat baked beans and fish for breakfast, but I don’t remember where I read that). Why do people say ‘yuck’ about eating certain foods at certain times of day? That always annoyed me. The only thing that I do understand about it is that it’s hard to cook breakfast when you’ve just gotten up, you’re tired, you’re hungry, and you need to make something quick and easy to get you started. So bacon and eggs will give you lots of calories and fat quickly and easily, so you have lots of energy with little effort. But if it were quick and easy to have liver and onions for breakfast, I’d eat that. I always eat leftovers for breakfast if I have them. Now that refrigerators have been invented, we can save our leftovers and eat them the next morning.

Oh, anyway. Schaum’s Outlines of math have prerequisites, and I would want to do all the previous books first before moving on to calculus or something. And I wasn’t satisfied with just memorizing the functions and the tricks. I wanted to understand them. So I might want to use a ‘real’ math book that goes into detail on those things instead of a Schaum’s. I tried looking at a Schaum’s Outline of Physics (and I really need to know about this, because I have to protect myself against electronic harassment that uses an unknown medium – it might be electromagnetic, or it might be sonic, but I have to understand the attacks).

But it started talking about vector math, and I don’t know vector math. I tried to just use and memorize the tips and tricks, but it wasn’t enough, and so I went to another shelf and I got a book all about vector math. And it didn’t take long before I got really, really stuck on something I didn’t understand, which wasn’t very well explained in the book. I got stuck on this one, small thing, very very badly, for weeks and weeks. I was trying to study it on my Tuesday evenings at Barnes and Noble from 7-8 PM. (That routine started because ‘they’ made me put up a Craigslist ad about my ‘intentional community,’ my religion, the order of Retmeishka, and I said in that ad that if anybody had problems reaching me by email then they could meet me in person at the bookstore, because I have problems with computer hackers interfering with my important emails, and possibly deleting comments that people write on my blog, or preventing people from writing comments at all, and that kind of thing. I feel like people are desperately trying to find me, desperately looking for me, but they can’t reach me, because their letters and comments don’t get through. That’s the reason why Chuck Palahniuk insists that all of his fan mail must be written on paper and delivered to his agent. If you send anything in email to somebody who’s the target of harassment and hacking and stalking, then you can’t be sure that they’ll get the email.)

It took weeks and weeks. I was writing in a, you guessed it, a small spiral notebook. I was trying to understand why this function was what it was. It wasn’t explained well. I don’t have faith in them, and I can’t just memorize it if I don’t have faith in it.

(I’m eating canned fish for breakfast right now. I bought it when I was stalking Curtis last week. I wasn’t here just to look for Curtis! I was here to go shopping, even though I could get it more easily at a store much closer to where I live, and I never go to this store, and haven’t been here in years. I’d rather not eat canned fish – I want fresh fish – and I think that cans might have a plastic lining that contains bisphenol-A, and if they don’t have a lining, then you are eating dissolved metal from the can itself, and I don’t want to eat dissolved metal, and I don’t want bisphenol-A either, and I don’t want overcooked food either… but canned fish is my compromise food.)

(I can’t cook right now, and there are reasons why, and it’s a long story, but part of it is because I tried to cook bone marrow, months and months ago, and the toxic vapors from the bone marrow filled up my refrigerator, and now every time I put anything in there, the vapors land on the food, and if you eat it, you’ll throw up. And I tried airing it out with the door open, and I’ve bleached it and sprayed it and wiped every inch of it, and I’ve left the refrigerator on with the door open so the fan will blow, but the air circulated inside some closed-off area in the back that I can’t open up, I think, and the vapors are in there. So now I’m not using that fridge at all, and all I do is go get fast foods and put them into a small fridge that I went out and bought at Wal-Mart.)

(In nutrition class in college, I learned about what people can do to get calcium if they can’t drink milk. You can eat canned fish that have the bones cooked in them. I’ve tried that, and it’s really good. You can get canned salmon, and it has the backbone in it, and you can see the segments of the backbone, and it takes a lot of courage to eat something so disgusting for the first time, if you’ve never eaten it before, but it’s good. I don’t have a bad reaction to those bones.)

(Nutrition class is where I first learned about cooking bones in soup, and that’s the reason why I believed that cooking soup bones, with bone marrow in them, was something that would be easy and safe to do. I thought it was a mainstream thing to do. I thought it was normal to cook soup bones and bone marrow. But it turns out that bone marrow contains toxic hormones, something that you can feel in your own body if you get badly injured or if you are under extreme stress and trauma. This is a feeling you get if you get hurt so badly that you might not survive. It’s the near death feeling, I am about to die, right now. If your bones get crushed so badly that the bone marrow is broken open, like if you fell off a cliff or fell out of a tree or off the roof of a house, or if you got in a car accident, then you would have this feeling.)

(When you get injured that badly, there are some things that happen to your body. You might pass out. People black out when they get severely injured. What causes you to black out? Bone marrow hormones. Whatever that hormone is, it comes out of bone marrow. You might vomit, and you might, pardon my language, shit yourself. What causes you to puke and shit yourself? Bone marrow hormones. When you are badly injured, the bone marrow releases things into your bloodstream. It releases new blood cells to replace the blood you’re losing in the accident. Maybe it also triggers adrenaline, and large amounts of adrenaline will also make you puke and shit yourself. But it’s not just adrenaline all by itself.)

(Whatever it is, you can get this feeling if you cook and eat bone marrow, the feeling that you are being killed. You literally feel like someone or something has nearly killed you, if you eat bone marrow. It’s a specific sensation.)

(And I only ate a tiny fragment. Imagine if you ate a lot. You would go to the hospital for the worst food poisoning you’ve ever had. So all these people, in all these books and websites, claiming that they eat bone marrow, must have cooked it to death at a very high temperature, or eaten yellow bone marrow instead of red bone marrow, or SOMETHING, to make it so that they don’t pass out and puke a few minutes after eating it.)

OMG, I’m obsessing about off-topics. I had one huge long paragraph, and I broke it into smaller paragraphs, and just kept the parentheses around it.

Well, anyhow. Eventually, I found the answer. I understood it. I understood WHY that vector math function was what it was. (It was something about the result you get if you add two vectors together, or maybe it was when you multiply two vectors together.) It tooks weeks and weeks of struggling. And I was way behind in my schedule. How on earth would I get through this whole book if I got stuck on one small function at the very beginning of the book, and it took weeks (although, actually, I spent only one hour, once a week, during my Barnes & Noble routine)?

(You know what else I learned as an adult? I found this out during the weeks when I slept in the car out in the parking lot, when my other apartment filled up with toxic black mold fumes and I would suffocate while I was sleeping. I learned that if you sleep in the car with all the windows closed, you’ll wake up with your heart pounding and you’ll be in a panic. You have to open the window to get some air. You can open it only a tiny crack, but that’s enough. I had to open it only a tiny crack because it was freezing outside. But that’s caused by too much carbon dioxide. You probably have enough oxygen. It’s too much carbon dioxide that causes you to panic. So I found out the same thing happens to me if I sleep in the bedroom with the door closed all the way. I have trouble waking up and I might wake up in a panic or have nightmares. The door has to be open a little crack to let fresh air in. I was a little kid, saying goodnight to my mom, and I would tell her to please, leave the door open a crack, or I’ll get scared. I didn’t know WHY. I thought it was to feel secure, like I can see a little light from the hallway, or like they can hear me if I yell. But actually, it was probably because I would get too much carbon dioxide in my closed bedroom, and it would make me panic in the middle of the night. And I never knew that, until decades later, as an adult.)

But anyway! I finally understood the function. But I gave up on trying to do the math books because I felt like it would take too long. I wanted to be wholeheartedly committed to what I was doing, otherwise I couldn’t keep doing something for months or years without knowing why I needed this. I had to be absolutely sure that this was what I wanted to study.

So that’s why I really like the Mark Forster web page. I’m ordering one of his books, actually. But anyway, that kind of thing made me get way behind in math class, while all the other kids just memorized the functions without understanding them. I can brag about one thing, though. I got a 5, the highest possible score, on the AP Calculus exam. ‘Understanding stuff’ really helps you later on! But I still, to this day, ENVY people who DON’T MIND memorizing things without understanding them! I wish I could make myself do that! So I can read Mark Forster and I get this feeling that still, even after all this time, even after becoming the world-renowned expert on Time Management, he still envies the people who just memorize the functions and pass the tests and do their homework weeks before it’s due, and they do this automatically because that’s the way they are. But WE have to go through this battle of ‘Am I doing this wholeheartedly?’ Do I really want to do this? Why? What good is it doing me? What am I going to use it for? I can’t do it unless I know why I’m doing it. He’s obsessed with this subject, not because he’s naturally GOOD at it, but because he’s naturally BAD at it! The people who are naturally good at time management aren’t writing books about it, they’re just out there living their lives and managing their time.

Wow, I started this off by talking about a text editor where you can use the mouse to draw a line down the middle of the page, or insert some text at the bottom of the page without ‘pushing it ahead’ if you go back up and insert something above it. And I want to draw lines and arrows, and I want to draw text in any location without moving the other text out of place. And that kind of thing. So I just use a pen and paper instead.

Writing is what I do because I’m not able to get up and DO things. It’s like what they said in this calendar that I picked up and looked at. The name of the calendar is something like ‘The B-Word,’ ‘bitch,’ a calendar about women being bitches and being proud of it. I think that’s the one. One of the pages said, ‘Only good girls keep diaries. Bad girls are too busy to keep diaries!’ People who are actually out DOING stuff are too busy to spend hours writing and thinking. So that’s why I’m thinking about writing a book and trying to make money by doing that. I could make money because I have a terrible weakness: I’m too tired and sick to get up and DO things. So all I do is sit around thinking and writing. Wouldn’t it be great if I could make MONEY by sitting around thinking and writing? For hours and hours every day? There are other people who have actually done this, you know. It’s not unthinkable. Why am I so different from those people?

Speaking of Harry Potter (was I speaking of Harry Potter? no, but I was thinking of it), I am waiting for ‘Harvey Putter and the Ridiculous Premise’ to arrive in the mail. This is a survival story, an escape story. I like stories where people escape from a closed world that they’re trapped in. Liberation stories. We are trapped inside the pages of a book, in a small, limited world. Our will is not free. We are slaves of the author, forced to do whatever the author writes about us. (I’m also thinking of Fantasia in ‘The Neverending Story,’ one of my all-time favorite movies.) It’s a tiny, closed room, and we can’t move around, like the Three Brothers casting shadows on their beige-colored walls. The three brothers are also skinny, almost skeletal, like stick figure drawings, not fully fleshed out, not warm and strong and fat and alive.

I want to be warm and strong and alive (and a little bit fat). I don’t want to be a Pinocchio puppet, I want to be a real person. (Yeah, I’m having a Weird Brain Day. I’m not sure why.) I don’t want to be Truman Burbank stuck inside Seahaven. I don’t want to be Annie trapped in the crumbling house in hell in ‘What Dreams May Come.’

So I think that this Harry Potter spoof might actually have a serious theme to it, the liberation theme. I haven’t read any spoilers about how it ends, though. I read a review of it and the guy said that he liked the ending, it made him smile, but I don’t know if that means they escaped or not. I don’t know what it means. I’m not sure if the characters will liberate themselves or not. I’ll wait and see. What is the spirit of this movie?

If I wrote a book, I want it to have the ‘fully fleshed out warmth’ instead of being like stick figures. I am thinking of an old book called ‘Heidi,’ which is a book that illustrates the Weston Price diet, the unhealthy lifestyle long ago, when people who lived in towns got sick and malnourished, but if you moved into the mountains, and ate fresh food and got fresh air, it would bring you back to life. I want my book to have healthy places where you’d love to live. A reason to survive. Something worth fighting for. People you love. People you want to see, over and over again. Places where you wish you could live. Food you wish you could eat.

They’re not just going on an adventure far from home. I love adventures, but I get lonely if I am away from home for too long. I don’t want to leave home and never come back. And I don’t want a love story with a bad ending that *SUCKED*, and I won’t mention any names, but THE GOLDEN COMPASS trilogy comes to mind! Sorry, was that a spoiler? I read all of the Golden Compass / His Dark Materials books and I liked them, but there was cold loneliness and not enough warmth and love. There wasn’t enough of a safe home to live in.

At the same time, I don’t want an Anne Tyler book where you’re resigned to going home, no matter what, and you can’t escape, no matter how hard you try, and you are resigned to a hopeless, dull, unsatisfying life forever. Anne Tyler was depressing.

There doesn’t have to be only one book. I can postpone a book if I don’t know what I want to do with it yet. I might not become a world-famous author starting with my very first book the way J.K. Rowling did. I might have a couple of books that suck, and then eventually, one of the books doesn’t suck. I don’t have to be huge, I don’t have to be famous. But I wonder if anybody anywhere would ever pay a couple dollars to buy a printed, physical book that I wrote? You know, Amazon.com happens to be a successful website that’s been around for a long time, through all these dotcom bubbles. People are still buying enough books to keep Amazon.com from going totally bankrupt.

I like Mark Forster’s ‘I’ll just get the file out’ technique. I’ve already been using that technique. I lie to myself and say that I’m only going to do one small thing. Sometimes it’s the truth. Sometimes I really do quit after doing that one tiny thing. I’ll just get the file out and look at it. But after you start doing that, you have momentum, and it’s easy to keep going and do some more work on it.

So if I said ‘I’ll just get the file out’ about writing a book, that means, I can just write one small book that sucks. It doesn’t have to be the world’s greatest book ever. It can be just a little one, and it can suck. It’s okay if it’s a bad book that nobody likes all that much.

I think I might be ready to get up and do something now. And later, I’ll be visiting my parents. I’ll probably have a spiral notebook with me. I’ll probably bring a laptop. I’ll be stuck in enforced idleness. But I must see my parents before they die, and I must see them again and again, not just once every couple years. And eventually, I will have to help them when they are too old to help themselves. I want to see them once every season. Can I do that? Every season of the year, four times a year? That requires planning. I have to ask for time off, over and over, and it’s hard to ask. But my parents are going to die, forever and ever. That’s what happened to J.K. Rowling. I don’t want that to happen to me. But they will die sometime. (Note, that eventually happens to everyone. But I’m saying that the loss of her parents, or her mother, I forget whether it was both parents – that influenced her and hurt her so much that it became part of the books she wrote. The whole world could see how much it hurt her, and they could relate to it. Not all books have a ‘lost parents’ theme in them.)

I wouldn’t have stayed here in State College. I might have gone back to West Virginia. But I got a boyfriend, and I sort of couldn’t help getting a boyfriend. In fact, I didn’t want to. And I fought with the voices in a terrible argument. I remember that. I remember fighting about not dating Eric. I remember arguing with a separate voice that wasn’t my own. I didn’t want to date him. I was going to say ‘no’ to Eric originally. I might not have stayed here. But I got a boyfriend, and I didn’t want to.

And when I broke up with him, I got another boyfriend right away, and I didn’t want him, either. I met Peter right away. Now, I don’t want to leave, because of Peter.

And then, ‘they’ made a fake arrangement for me to be bonded with Curtis. Curtis would have been a Temporary Workplace Friend. I had a terrible, terrible crush on him, and I would have been devastated when he left. But I would have cried and cried and then I would have gotten over it. I would have moved on.

They are tearing me apart, when I want to go home to be with my parents, but ‘they’ want to make me stay in the State College area and put down roots and start a new life here. I’ve refused to put down roots, all these years, and haven’t made any friends. And I can’t help saying ‘yes’ to bonding with Curtis. I can’t help it, because I like him so much. I love him like family. I want to spend years getting to know him. I want to get used to him. They pushed me to do things I wouldn’t have done on my own. And I can’t help saying ‘yes’ to it. I can’t help liking him as much as I do. But I know, at the same time, that ‘they’ are doing this deliberately as a way of making me stay in State College, for whatever reason.

(It makes you ask the question, are ‘they’ really as ‘everywhere’ as they pretend to be? Why would it matter where I live, when they follow me everywhere when I drive long distances in my car? Who cares where I live? They can spy on me no matter where I go. Uh-oh, I ate chocolate a while ago, and no, that’s not a joke, I am starting to get the ‘hate’ feeling again and I’m wondering why the feeling is getting worse. What made me get into the ‘hate’ mood? And no, that’s not directed at Curtis, it’s directed at the attackers.)

I should go get some real food. I haven’t really eaten. I’ve written too long, and wandered to too many topics. I know when I’ve worn out my welcome. I don’t want to write another ‘hate’ blog again.

This blog shouldn’t have a bad ending. I’m going to visit my parents. I’m off work this week. I won’t get much done, but I will get a little bit done. I want to make changes in my life. There are some really, really important things I need to do.

Mom and Dad are old

November 27, 2010

I’m visiting my mom and dad in West Virginia next week. I already requested a vacation from work. But for some reason, they came up here to visit Aunt Jeannie today. It was unexpected. They come up here every once in a while, but it’s usually Dad alone. Mom has trouble traveling because she gets uncomfortable sitting in the car for a long time, and also, she doesn’t like leaving the horses alone, because one of them is sick. But anyway I went over to Aunt Jeannie’s house and saw them tonight, very briefly, just to give them a hug and say hello.

When I saw them, I decided I’m going to go down to West Virginia more often. It’s going to be an official routine. They’re old. They’re going to die. They are going to be gone forever. I’m lucky that nothing has happened yet to either one of them.

I saw my dad’s neck. It’s been a while since I saw him. His neck has that loose skin hanging down the way it does on old people. It wasn’t like that a few years ago. I knew their hair was getting gray, although it’s still not completely gray for either one of them. But they are both getting old saggy skin, and it was more noticeable than it ever was before. So I am going to go down a couple times a year to visit them. I am not going to wait anymore.

I was always hoping that I would be able to visit them with good news. Yay! My life has finally gotten better! I’m married and I have kids! I have a good job and I’m making a lot of money! I’m healthy and I have lots of energy! I’m working on creative projects and doing my artwork!

I hardly ever go down to West Virginia to visit them, mostly because I’ve usually been working two jobs, and so I have to schedule the visit at least a month in advance to make sure I can get the week off for both jobs. Technically, I could make an eight-hour trip down there, stay for a day, and then drive back up here, during my two days off work on an ordinary weekend. But that would suck.

It was the heartbreaking feeling of pain and grief that I felt when I said hello and then quickly left again after not seeing them in a long time. That’s what made me decide. I’m not seeing them enough. It was because I have to go to work early in the morning tomorrow (which I don’t usually do), and that’s why mom didn’t want me to stay long and talk. So I was there only a couple minutes.

This will be my official routine now. A couple times a year. I’d love to go down there four times a year, once every season. Even if I don’t have any good news at all, I should go. They’re going to die. I want to show them their grandchildren, but that’s not ready yet.

I love AutoFocus!

November 27, 2010

11:00 AM 11/27/10

I love AutoFocus and closed lists!

I’m reading Mark Forster’s web page, and he has something called AutoFocus. He also uses something called closed lists. I love closed lists. Here is what you do.

When I write a to-do list, I never look at it again. I can’t stand it. Looking at the list causes too much anxiety. The list is impossibly long. The more I try to do, and the more I think about it, the longer the list becomes. I keep adding things to it. It is infinite. It never ends. As soon as I start thinking of things to do, then there are infinity things to do. It’s impossible. I can’t even imagine where to start. And I *KNOW* that the list will never get done.

So you close off the first page of your list. You’re going to look at that same page, over and over again, for days and days and days. You add other pages after it, but you don’t worry about them. You keep writing new stuff at the end of the list, on the next page in the book, and then the next page after that, but who cares about all that new stuff. You’re still stuck looking at the same first page over and over again.

If something is urgent and it has to be done, then, of course, do it. He says, use common sense, if you absolutely have to do something now, then do it of course. But this long, neverending, infinite list is the stuff that doesn’t really have a deadline. It’s stuff you want to do, but nobody is forcing you to do it. The IRS will come to your house and arrest you if you don’t pay your taxes, but they won’t do anything if you, for instance, never get around to that project of eating a healthier diet. Nobody will arrest you if you just don’t bother to do that. So it gets put on the infinite to-do list.

You read this same first page every day.

I also took his suggestion of writing down a group of three, and only three, things that you absolutely will do today. They were three small things and I did get them done, yesterday. It was: fill out as much of a job application as I can (but there will be a few questions that are hard to answer, like, what is somebody’s name or phone number that I’ve forgotten and I have to go find it); go take a picture of a contaminated item that I am thinking of throwing away, but I still have to touch-test it to see how bad my reaction to it is; and the last item was, mail off a letter to order something that I wanted to buy where I had to pay with a check. (That was ‘Harvey Putter and the Ridiculous Premise.’) They were three small things and I actualy did them yesterday.

Any small thing that gets done is better than zero. Usually, I do zero things. If I do *one* thing, that’s better than zero.

Today, I was forced awake early in the morning, after not having slept very well. I don’t sleep well, because of the drug residues, and because I am being attacked, and because my thin little foam cushion isn’t very soft. (I don’t mind the foam cushion very much if it has clean paper on it and if I’m not reacting to any chemicals. The drug reaction is the worst thing disrupting my sleep. I don’t have control over the attackers though.) So I started my morning routine of lying awake, wishing I could get up and do something, wishing I could go back to sleep, tossing and turning, not being able to sleep, talking to the voices in my head, eating some leftovers from the fridge, taking a small fragment of a caffeine pill, taking another small fragment a little while later (and I don’t have a coffeemaker anymore – it’s on the infinite to-do list because there are some problems I was trying to solve first), and then, eventually, getting awake enough to start moving around.

So I picked up the notebook where I had written the infinite to-do list yesterday. Or I should say, where I STARTED writing the infinite to-do list.

I reread the first page. The items were familiar because I had already looked at them several times yesterday. It’s the same list and it isn’t getting bigger.

I noticed that there were several things that were too big or too vague. Some of those things had been suggestions from ‘the voices,’ because the voices always add things to my to-do list and they always add comments while I’m writing or talking to anyone.

If I’m ‘searching for something to say’ in a silence, that means that the voices are about to force me to say something that they want me to say. I am starting to believe that there is *no such thing* as ‘searching for something to say’ in a silence. There is only comfortable silence. I am starting to believe that ‘uncomfortable silence’ or ‘awkward silence’ does not exist. The awkwardness is fake and it means that ‘they’ are trying to force you to say something fake. It’s like they’re a radio station and they are required to avoid any ‘dead air,’ silence on the radio. Sometimes awkward silences are the time when you are supposed to feel close to somebody. You’re supposed to feel comfortable and happy and at peace with them. Sometimes you’re supposed to touch them.

Anyway, I expanded a few of the ‘too big’ items by writing a few of the necessary steps, or questions about them (What? How? Why?). I have one favorite item on the list and the autofocus seems to be on it. I’m starting to want to do that one particular thing. I had already decided on this a couple days ago anyway. I’m not sure if that is the item that’s been chosen or not, but it’s seeming that way. I wanted to set up the bookkeeping table again and start keeping track of my money.

What happened?

I taught myself bookkeeping, first by reading web pages, and later, by buying a Schaum’s Outline and doing the whole book. I actually finished it! This is a huge achievement. I never finish anything. I dropped out of school. But I finished the Schaum’s Outline of bookkeeping. And I started doing it for real, as though I was a small business. My life is a business. I had already read other books about money, years ago, like ‘Your Money or Your Life.’

I had a contamination incident in my apartment. For a few weeks, the new apartment’s carpet wasn’t contaminated. But there were a few incidents of people walking in and breaking the rules. The landlady and the maintenance guy would walk right up the stairs, but you have to leave your shoes at the bottom of the stairs, because that’s where I kept the shoes that were contaminated from having touched the floor of my car. I would walk barefoot up the stairs at first. I can’t do that anymore, because now there are footprints going up the stairs, and I will have an ephedra reaction when I walk on those footprints.

The ephedra got up the stairs after a few incidents. Then it got walked around the floor of the whole apartment. I had my bookkeeping books on the floor in the family room. I had a bunch of papers and books spread out in one small place. They eventually touched some of the footprints on the carpet. After touching one thing and another, I got ephedra all over the books and papers. It only takes a couple molecules to have a severe reaction. So I would become extremely uncomfortable while trying to do the bookkeeping.

Every book that I buy eventually becomes contaminated, just like every piece of clothing I buy. So nowadays, everything I buy, I view it as disposable. I see everything as eventually going into the trash. So I don’t buy unique items, sentimental items, or expensive items. The clothing is $0.29 Goodwill clothes, and I throw them away when they get contaminated. I wear the same thing again and again then eventually throw it away. Books are more expensive, and I try to avoid buying books, but every now and then, I can’t resist buying some book. The Schaum’s Outlines are a ‘teaching’ book, so after I learn what’s in them, after I learn how to *do* something, it’s okay to throw the book away because it’s in my head now. I don’t WANT to throw them away, but if I have to, it’s no big deal. They are not unique books. It IS a waste of money, and I want to stop all of the contamination completely. But that’s on my infinite to-do list. And I don’t have control over the things that the murderers do. There is so much waste caused by the murderers. I’d have been able to get a lot more done if my sleep wasn’t disrupted.

Anyway, the ‘closed list’ is what I’m enjoying about this experiment. I see the same things again and again, the same first page of the list. I’m not overwhelmed by the infinite list, but yet, my mind is reassured because when I think of something else, I can still add it to the end of the list, and I feel safe knowing that it’s there and it’s written down and I won’t forget it. It’s getting some of my attention just by being written down. And I scan that part of the list, the end, where the new stuff is, but I don’t focus on it and I don’t try to do it. I just look to see if anything urgent is in there.

I tried making a ‘project workbook’ a couple of times in the past. I got a three-ring binder and I used looseleaf pages and I wrote a separate page for each big project. Then I was supposed to write notes, and break it down into steps, and put dates for completion, and that kind of thing, in each separate ‘chapter’ of the workbook. I did that, but it was overwhelming. I liked writing the projects into the book, but I still couldn’t bring myself to do any of them. There might still be a need to write down large complex projects someplace, but I still always need a ‘to do list’ made of small things instead of large complex things.

I have a big complex project: move out of this apartment, move out of ALL toxic apartments, move away from anyplace that uses pesticides. I strongly suspect that this latest outbreak of severe chronic fatigue was caused by the pesticides. We have these harmless little black and orange stinkbugs, and there were hundreds of them trying to get in the windows and crawling up the sides of the house. I’m not afraid of them. They’ve never stung me or bitten me. I don’t think they do anything at all. Every year, a few times a year, the maintenance people will spray the apartment with pesticides. It happened at my other apartment too. I requested to my previous landlord that he NOT spray INSIDE my apartment, and he agreed not to. Every time they’ve sprayed, I’ve gotten deathly sick not just for weeks, but months. I don’t think they sprayed inside my apartment this time, I think they only sprayed outside, but if it’s just NEAR my apartment I get deathly ill for months. I’m pretty sure that’s what happened this time. I was doing pretty well and then all of a sudden I was horrible. And it’s right about when the stinkbugs appeared and they started spraying.

I HATE PESTICIDES. Pesticides cause face, jaw, tooth, and skull deformities, and other bone deformities. I believe that Weston Price didn’t know the whole story. He thought it was only caused by nutritional deficiencies, but I believe that toxic environments in the modern life are one of the major causes of the deformities. Not the only cause, but a big one. The people on the Weston Price website know about it, though, and there are some articles about it, like the story about the deformed whitetail deer in Montana.

(*Disclaimer. There are things in the so-called ‘Weston Price Diet’ that are not safe. Nobody explains, for instance, that eating bone marrow will cause you to have the most severe food poisoning you’ve ever had in your life, that you’ll be vomiting and passing out and fainting and it will go on for hours and hours, that you will feel the most terrible feelings you’ve ever felt because you are eating the hormones that come out of the bones whenever you have a severe injury, so you will feel the same sensations that you feel when you are severely injured, and the hormones act like a drug – nobody gave any kind of warning about that. I’m sure that eating other internal organs would do the same thing. I’m pretty sure that the native Americans were hoaxing him when they claimed that they ate the adrenal glands of the moose, and that if you ate a bunch of adrenaline, you’d drop dead, or you’d WISH you were dead, either way. People claim to eat bone marrow, but they might have some other way of cooking it, and whatever they’re doing, it must destroy all the drug-like hormones that were in the marrow that I ate. And I only ate a little fragment of it. And there was no warning that the vapors from the cooked marrow would fill up the fridge and then land on all the other food and drinks, so that you would start vomiting again anytime you ate or drank anything out of the fridge. Once again, an obscure, esoteric, unknown warning that they never gave. I am now the world’s expert on residues and vapors, whether I want to be or not, because nobody else seems to be talking about this on the internet. Anyway, if you try anything from the Weston Price diet, like internal organs, then try only a tiny piece, and then wait, like, twenty minutes, to see if you start vomiting or passing out or having hormone-drug effects. Everybody else believes that food poisoning is caused by bacteria and parasites, and they believe that’s the only kind of food poisoning that exists, and nobody else knows about the poisoning from eating the hormones of the body.*)

Anyway, off topic. Back to the to-do list. Building a shield is on my to-do list too. I want to find out what I care most about when I’m blocked from being controlled by the murderers. What would I want to do if they couldn’t tell me what to do?

I’m going to post this now.

chocolate probably makes anger worse

November 26, 2010

Two things: I was eating lots of chocolate yesterday, because I am trying to find out if it is enough of a stimulant to help my fatigue. Sometimes it seems to work, and other times it doesn’t. I think it made me feel more enraged yesterday. The other thing is that I’m on my period and I have PMS right now. I know that PMS seems like a joke to a lot of people, but it’s real, and it contributes to my rage.

All of a sudden, ‘they’ are making a new, forced, fake personality for me. So the words that I say are going to have a different tone for a while. They are actually putting every word in my mouth like a puppet, and it’s not really me. It’s because I’ve been reading about time management and scheduling, so they are creating a fake, artificial, enneagram Three persona and writing all my words through that fake persona. I can actually feel them putting every single word into this as I’m typing. And nobody gets to see the words that I would really say if I could speak.

I’m reading the website of Mark Forster. I’d like to see his books. I’ve never read his books before. I’ve read ‘What Color Is Your Parachute?’ and I’ve read ‘The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People,’ and I’ve also read Nathaniel Branden’s books on self-esteem. But I haven’t seen Mark Forster before and I like what I’m seeing. He’s talking about things that I’m familiar with, the feelings of anxiety that you get when you try to start working on a to-do list and all of a sudden a thousand new ideas come to you that you have to add to the list, and things like that. He talks about what to do when those things happen. So I’m reading his website and I probably will read his books eventually.

Hatred: What the murderers do to me when I make progress or try to achieve goals

November 25, 2010

5:21 PM 11/25/10

I have been talking with the voices about why I can’t schedule myself to do anything. What happened with me and scheduling? A long time ago, I used to read ‘The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People,’ and other self-help books about how to achieve goals. Recently I put up a Craigslist ad asking someone to help me get my goals and projects done, and I said that what I needed most was someone to help enforce my schedule, rather than do the work for me. So the voices want to know why I’m doing that.

In the beginning, when the murderers first started attacking severely, when they first forced me to become aware that I was being attacked – I was being attacked and controlled for years but I didn’t know it, and then they started extremely severe attacks in 2004, and I am lucky to be alive – for a few weeks they were constantly ‘burning’ me in my apartment, and it was so bad that I couldn’t stay in there, and I had to actually go outside and sit in a park all day long.

Anyway, when the severe attacks began in 2004, it was right after I did telephone therapy with Judith Swack, who I read about on Nathaniel Branden’s web page. As I was doing her therapy, she suggested that I should go to a psychiatrist and get drugs, because I was rebelling against her, and I felt that her therapy wasn’t what I wanted and it wasn’t doing me any good. I did go to a psychiatrist, and I took Prozac, and taking Prozac was the last straw – it was such a horrible, toxic, poisonous drug that I decided to quit therapy and quit the psychiatrist and everything. Right after that, the attacks began, and they were forcing me to write letters to a former co-worker who eventually had me arrested for harassment and thrown in a mental hospital.

During that time, they started controlling me, every detail, especially when I was on Prozac. I also had Prozac residue incidents for months afterwards. I didn’t know that Prozac, like many drugs, can contaminate clothing and your house and everything you touch and every place where it’s handled, and it can go through your skin. So after you’ve stopped using a drug, you can still have ‘flashbacks’ many months later, just like LSD flashbacks, because the drug residues are on your clothing (and it doesn’t wash out in the laundry) and the drug goes through your skin. I believe this is what causes LSD flashbacks. So I had Prozac flashbacks for months, and I mistakenly thought that somebody was entering my apartment and putting the drug into my water bottles, when actually I was probably just touching the residues.

Every time I had a Prozac flashback, ‘they’ started trying to control my scheduling again. And they forced me to do trivial things at the same time each week, and they forced me to make a schedule and put it up on the refrigerator, telling me when to do chores like take out the garbage or do the laundry. I figured out that I was being controlled externally, and I got angry and rebelled against them, and refused to do any scheduling or any chores if I was forced to do it on a particular day or time. If I hadn’t been forced to do it by mind control, it would have been okay. If I had voluntarily done this scheduling, with the help of an outside supporter, someone who checked to see that I was doing my work on schedule, that would be totally different. But instead, they were controlling my mind, and they did it every time I was on Prozac or having a Prozac residue flashback. So that was the time when I rebelled against ALL scheduling, and I began to *HATE* the slightest bit of scheduling of chores. When I say ‘hate,’ I mean that I wanted to *KILL* the people controlling my mind, but since I didn’t know who they were, I couldn’t do it.

Over the years, I have tried a few times to achieve goals, to improve my life, and sometimes, to schedule my activities. The murderers always get involved when I do this. (When I was lying in bed talking to the voices this morning, I was calling them ‘the mentally ill murdering morons.’ There is no word in any language strong enough to express the hate. When things get bad, I think about killing them, but again, I don’t know who they are. I don’t have a way to track down where the electronic attacks are coming from.)

Here is an example. I might try to make a schedule for myself to work for one hour on a project. If I do that, then at the end of one hour, the mentally ill murdering morons will start *BURNING* me to force me to stop what I’m doing, because EXACTLY ONE HOUR, AND ONLY ONE HOUR, has passed. If I get involved in it, if I get momentum, if I feel like working for longer than one hour, I can’t, because the MIMMs will punish me for not following the schedule exactly. They don’t understand that ‘one hour’ is supposed to be a flexible estimate, and the purpose is to get me started on it.

Or if I DON’T do what I was scheduled to do, they will burn me and punish me for not following the schedule and not doing what I said I would do. The other thing that happens is, if, for instance, I try to do self-esteem improvement, by working on Nathaniel Branden’s self-esteem books, then then MIMMs will repeat the sentence stem phrases in my head, over and over, and they will ‘fill out the answers’ for me instead of letting me answer the sentence myself. They also used to do ‘affirmations’ in my head over and over, such as ‘Every day in every way I am becoming a better and better person,’ and they would play that phrase in my head hundreds of times each day. It wasn’t that phrase exactly, but it was stuff like that. They would also bombard my head with meaningless nonsense words, but if I tried to read any self-improvement books or work on any projects or schedules or if I tried to achieve anything, the bombardments would have to do with whatever I was working on. If I wrote a song in my Propellerheads Reason software, they would play the song over and over in my head for hours, days, or weeks. Anytime I try to achieve anything, or schedule anything, or improve myself, or control myself, the MIMMs respond with extremely severe life-ruining attacks.

They also do a lot of disgusting and abusive nightmares whenever I am achieving things in my life. Achievement, success, and creativity always trigger the mentally ill murdering morons to be more abusive than usual. They are being nice to me lately, because all I have done is work at a boring, low-wage job for several years, and I haven’t written any songs or created anything at all, and I have made no progress, and I am sleeping on the floor, and I have no money, and I have to live in extreme poverty because I throw all my clothing in the garbage instead of washing it, because all of my belongings and my floor are covered in herbal drug residues.

They succeeded in destroying my life whenever they forced me to try growing toxic herbs indoors, and ephedra was the last straw, so they have been much less abusive to me over the past few years, because I haven’t been creative or successful or made any progress at all. ‘Kill’ is the only word strong enough to express the hate that I have towards them. But I don’t know who to kill. If I could, I would put them in jail, but the police won’t investigate electronic harassment claims, and it’s taboo. If I could convince them to voluntarily stop attacking, then I would, but that doesn’t seem likely. So the only thing left is to kidnap them myself and keep them locked up, or have my (nonexistent, imaginary) vigilante friends kidnap and imprison them for me, or have my (nonexistent, imaginary) vigilante assassin friends kill them for me.

‘Stopping voluntarily’ would have already happened by now, because I have complained and suffered and protested all this time, and they don’t care about my complaints, or any of the other victims’ complaints, and they will keep attacking people until they commit suicide – there is another victim online who attempted suicide because of the attacks, and THEY DON’T CARE, they just keep attacking. THEY WANT YOU TO DIE. But they tolerate me as long as nobody ever appreciates my intelligence and my talent. Whenever anybody sees my intelligence and my talent, if I create something, if I write a song or create a piece of art, if I get a better job and higher pay, if my mother and father send me an email and say ‘Congratulations on getting a raise at your job,’ then the mentally ill murdering morons respond by attacking with terrible severity.

Again, the only reason the attacks have been less severe is because I am living an unimaginably hard life as a result of drug residue contamination. I sleep on a thin cushion on the floor, covered with paper, because I have thrown away dozens of mattresses and pillows and other beds when they got re-contaminated. The murderers have caused multiple outbreaks of drug residues, and the drug residues will always be there as long as I have my belongings in storage, not yet sorted out and thrown away. It is on the floor of my car, and it gets onto my shoes, constantly. That is how it got to the apartment where I live now.

If you don’t believe me, then go online to an herb seller, and buy the seeds of ephedra sinica. After you touch the envelope that the seeds are delivered in, you will have severe insomnia that NOTHING can touch. You will never sleep again, until the ephedra seed residue is washed off your hands. I mean, NEVER. You will be awake for months. Whatever it was that happened to Chuck Palahniuk, when he wrote ‘Fight Club,’ when he said that he REALLY WAS awake with extreme insomnia for months, it was probably a drug residue outbreak. His clothes and all of his belongings were covered with a drug that goes through your skin. I don’t know what drug it was.

The electronic attackers usually don’t cause you to have CONSTANT insomnia. They force you to fall asleep at specific times, usually at EXACTLY a specific hour on the clock – you will fall asleep at precisely 3:00 and wake up at precisely 5:00, after having a bunch of fake dreams and nightmares. That is how the murderers make you sleep. Whatever Chuck Palahniuk experienced, it was probably a drug residue. Anyway, if you don’t believe me, then you can try it yourself. It’s legal to buy ephedra sinica seeds over the internet. That is how I got them. I wanted to grow ephedra for my chronic fatigue. I thought it would be safe as long as I only took an extremely small dose. But you can’t even take a small dose, because you can’t even touch it, or be close to it. The plant is so toxic that merely by handling the seeds, you will poison the skin of your hands, and then a few molecules are wiped onto other objects and surfaces, where they linger FOREVER, because they NEVER DECAY. I repeat, they never decay. Ephedrine molecules are extremely stable, and they do not biodegrade. They just sit there, forever and ever and ever, for decades, forever.

So go ahead, try it yourself if you don’t believe me. Just handling the seeds ruined my entire life and all of my belongings – although I also grew other herbs like tobacco, which did the same thing, and I now have a mixture of different herbs and poisons which got on the carpet and got spread around when I tried to shampoo the carpet. Almost all of my belongings were destroyed, and I have been in this situation since 2007. That is why my life has completely stopped, why I can make no progress, and why the mentally ill murdering morons are being nicer to me than they were in the past, because they LIKE it when I just go to a boring, low-wage job every day instead of making progress and improvement in my life. They LIKE it that I can’t have any visitors over at my house because I don’t want anyone to walk on my carpet and get the poisons on their shoes. It doesn’t matter if someone believes me or not – I am responsible for them if they come over to my house and get an insomnia-causing drug residue on their shoes, which will then leave footprints all around their house, and it will ruin their life too.

Anyway, that is the main reason why I haven’t tried to make my own schedule, and I wanted an outsider to help me enforce my schedule. If a real person voluntarily works with me, that’s very different from being forced by a mentally ill murdering moron.

I myself don’t have any ‘fears’ or ‘anxieties’ or ‘inhibitions’ about scheduling. I myself don’t have any reason why I wouldn’t do my own scheduling. It is only the mentally ill murdering morons who prevent me from scheduling or doing projects.

If I try to do something as simple as plan a shopping trip to Wal-Mart to buy a few items that I need to deal with my drug residues, for instance, if I need to go buy the brown paper that I use to cover my bed, and the lint-free towels that I use for showering, which I throw in the garbage if they become contaminated (they’re lint-free because of my dreadlocks. I don’t like wads of towel lint tangled in my hair.), if I do something so simple as try to go shopping for those things, then the mentally ill murdering morons will suddenly force me to get an irresistible urge to drive my car to Barnes & Noble bookstore instead, because it’s right next to Wal-Mart, and I’ll go there and fool around for hours and read books instead of shopping for things I need, and then I’ll get exhausted and go home and sleep, and then it’s time to get up and go to work the next day. That is my life. There is no word stronger than ‘kill’ to express the hate for these people. They’re not people.

The hate comes out anytime I try to achieve anything or make changes or improvements in my life. That is why it is so bad right now. I already know everything that they are going to do to me as I try to make my own schedule and improve my life and accomplish goals again. I would kill them, but I don’t know who they are.

(Don’t worry, I long ago decided that it was impossible to ‘guess’ who the mentally ill murdering morons might be. So don’t worry that I might go around thinking that I know who they are, that it’s this or that particular person who’s attacking me, and I might be mistaken, and go try to kill that person because I mistakenly believe they’re the person who’s attacking me. They already did that to me years ago, and I learned not to believe them when they tried to convince me that it was some particular person who was attacking me. It is impossible to guess who is attacking you. If you try to guess, then the murderers will trick you into attacking an innocent person. They like to see people killing each other, and they want you to go make a mistake and kill an innocent person. Even better, they want you to get on drugs, and go kill a bunch of random innocent people and then kill yourself. So I don’t use drugs (except small amounts of St. John’s Wort, and caffeine), and I don’t believe anything that they say to me about who is responsible for the attacks. ALL OF IT is a lie.)

So as you can see, I get enraged merely by THINKING about the things I would like to do to improve my life and achieve my goals. I already know what ‘they’ are going to do, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. I’m going to just post this now. Don’t worry about me, I’m not in immediate danger. I’m just THINKING about what might happen if I try to make any schedules or long-term goals. That is what’s causing me to get enraged. I’ve really wanted to do that lately, and it’s been a long time since I tried anything like that. I’m not looking forward to it.

prostitution

November 25, 2010

Every so often, the voices try to force me to become a prostitute. They’ve done this to me several times already. I might someday become a ‘monogamous prostitute,’ a housewife. But I am so antisocial, and anti-sexual too, that it’s hard for me to date people, and I get disgusted by the idea of being with large numbers of men. A couple months ago they tried again with the forced prostitution thing, and I couldn’t follow through on it. I am extremely picky about which guys I’m attracted to. I like long hair, beards, and short skinny teenage boys. I am not usually attracted to large muscular men, and I can’t stand bodybuilders. Sometimes I call myself a pedophile, a hebephile, or an ephebophile, but in reality it would be most accurate to call me an ephebophile. It was the voices who started calling me a pedophile in the first place, and I sort of agreed with them, so I started reading about it, and in reality I like teenage boys, but I don’t want to have sex with little children. While I’m talking about this I should mention that the bonobo apes violate almost every sexual taboo that humans have, including pedophilia.

Anyway, I’m not trying to do the prostitution thing now. I’m going to try to work at non-prostitution jobs, and yes, I’d like to start my own business, but for right now it will be just ordinary jobs, like fast food. Like I said, I get so disgusted with most people that I can’t stand the idea of being a prostitute, and I can’t even go on dates. It wasn’t my own idea anyway.

anarchism, second job, visiting curtis, resting on thanksgiving day

November 25, 2010

3:27 PM 11/25/10

I am home from work because it’s Thanksgiving, but I am not going anywhere to eat dinner. I’m invited to go with my aunts and cousins, and also Peter and Tammy invited me, but I’m going to just stay home and rest. Rest is what I want more than anything else. Trying to have fun on a holiday isn’t usually much fun for me. Sometime in the future, it might be, but right now no.

The air is fresh and sweet outside today. I went out to get some bottled water out of my car and the sweetness of the air surprised me. It was cold and silent and full of rainfall. It often feels that way on holidays. I think maybe there aren’t as many cars driving on holidays, and that’s why the air is sweet.

I saw Curtis yesterday. I went looking for him, when I was finally able to get up and out of bed. I didn’t see him in the store, so I bought a couple of small things and left. As I was walking towards the door, he came out of a small room nearby and looked right at me. So we walked outside together and sat on the bench where he had a cigarette. He said he was off work and waiting for his ride to pick him up.

I didn’t have a panic attack, and I didn’t start crying either. I was only a little nervous at first. I hope that I can get used to visiting him. It was something that I did on purpose, as a duty, an obligation.

I sat, like, three feet away from him on the bench, leaving him plenty of space. I didn’t touch him at all. We talked for a few minutes about Christmas and some other things and then he finished his cigarette. I let him go back inside, and I said goodbye and went to my car.

I am glad I got to see him. And he mentioned again that I hadn’t written much on facebook. It’s true, I didn’t bombard him with letters, because I was trying to take it easy after he and I had a couple days of big, long letters back and forth to each other, and I thought, he can’t possibly like this, and I thought that I talk too much. But no, he wanted me to write to him again. I thought I had to give him a break for a couple of days, and I didn’t want to push my luck. So after I got home I sent him another letter and I showed him two photos where he and his son Caden were in the same position and making the same face and they looked exactly alike. He even has Curtis’s ears. They are the same shape and they stick out at exactly the same angle. I love his ears, so this is a good thing. He has both ears double pierced and I always stare at them when we’re talking.

As of right now, it’s my official duty to try to see him once every other week. If I could, I’d see him like three times a week or something, and I would be all over him hugging and kissing and snuggling, but instead I am going to give him a lot of space and try to act like an ordinary friend instead of the ‘friend who adores you and wants to have sex with you even though you have a girlfriend and you guys are getting married sometime.’ So I have to be an ordinary friend. I’m not even touching him yet, not even a little bit. I’m not sure when I will feel comfortable enough to do that. But like I said, I didn’t cry or have a panic attack, so I am feeling a little more trusting and comfortable now.

In case you are a new reader who doesn’t know what’s going on, Curtis and I used to work together, but he lost his job, and I wanted to keep visiting him at his new job, and I was devastated that I couldn’t see him at work anymore. So every time I went looking for him, I was crying and upset because I missed him and he was gone from my life. That’s making a long story short. It took a while before I could actually FIND him at his new job, and I spent a few weeks sending letters to him begging him to tell me to quit stalking him, because I was scared that he didn’t want to see me and that sooner or later he would have me arrested for stalking. But actually he wants to see me, or at least, he is able to tolerate it.

****
‘They’ think that the reason the Harry Potter and Hermione dance scene affected me so strongly was because I myself am in a position of being attracted to someone who is loyal to his real girlfriend. Every time I saw that scene in the movie, the voice whispered the word ‘letdown’ after it was over, and now they said ‘letdown’ after I walked away from Curtis without touching him. I checked the book when I was at Barnes & Noble. It wasn’t in the book. It was added to the movie. The scene does resemble how he and I are together: we’ve been friends for a long time, I’ve always been attracted to him, and we’ve enjoyed being together, and we have had fun together, but he is loyal to his girlfriend and he probably would stop me if I tried to do anything that went beyond being friendly. I don’t know. He always tolerated it when I touched him, but I was doing things like patting him on the back. And he wasn’t always with his girlfriend during the time when we worked together, and he was more open to me when he wasn’t dating anybody.

Anyway, I saw him, and I plan to see him again.

Another good thing: I am going to try again to get a second job. My bank account has been quickly draining down, which always happens when I have only one job. My rent is too high, and I need a roommate, but I can’t have one unless I clean up the drug residue on the carpet, and I’ve already talked about that too much in my blog. I need to get that fixed. But I want to have a secure income first before I do anything else. I had tons of money when I was working at Weis and McDonald’s, and then I quit Weis and I quickly used up the money I had. I’m ready to fill out job applications again, and so, yesterday, I picked up a couple when I was in town, when I went to visit Curtis.

I feel like everybody already knows this, but, I am an anarchist, and before I called myself an anarchist, I started out as a Libertarian and Objectivist, after reading the books of Ayn Rand. I decided to go all the way to ‘anarchist’ after I learned that the hackers are controlling the computers where they record the numbers of our votes. It isn’t the electronic voting machines that we have to worry about, although there are some problems with those too. But they are a red herring, a distraction from the real problem. The real problem is that our votes get counted, and then the numbers get sent to an ordinary, insecure, internet-connected computer with a plain old Excel spreadsheet on it, and then, the hackers change the numbers in the cells on the spreadsheet. It’s so easy to do, a script kiddie could do it. You don’t even have to be an expert hacker. You don’t have to do anything that requires a lot of knowledge or expertise. So our votes don’t matter at all. It’s all fake. So I am an anarchist, because our votes have no connection to the results of the election.

After the election of George Bush Jr., there was an article written called ‘Evidence Mounts that the Vote Was Hacked.’ Or it might have been called ‘Evidence Mounts that the Vote Has Been Hacked.’ It’s on the internet. It’s the only article that I ever saw that was written about this, but I knew it was the truth. I had been getting harassed by computer hackers since about the year 2000, so I already knew that they were everywhere. Reading that article was the last straw. I decided that voting was completely and totally hopeless. At first I had thought that voting was just difficult, but not impossible. I thought that there might be SOME hope of changing the government by voting. But now I don’t think so anymore. The entire voting system is completely and totally corrupt and fake, and there is no connection at all between our votes and who gets elected – NONE.

Oh… why was I talking about anarchism? Because I was going to say, I hate the labor laws. I shouldn’t have to get a second job if I want to work more than forty hours a week. But employers can’t afford to pay overtime pay. If you work more than 40 hours, then they have to pay you 1.5 times your usual wage for every hour over 40. So if I work 50 hours, then 10 of those hours are overtime. If I usually made $5 an hour, then I would be making $7.50 an hour during those 10 hours of overtime. Instead of doing that, businesses always just hire extra people, and they make sure that nobody ever works more than 40 hours a week. The end.

So nobody can make enough money. There is an upper limit on how much money you are allowed to make in one week. If you are only allowed to work 40 hours, and you make $5 an hour, then $200 is the maximum amount of money that you are allowed to make in one week. This law is insanely stupid and it needs to be repealed. But the best we can hope for is that maybe, someday, the government will allow you to voluntarily opt out of the law – that you might be allowed to say to your employer, ‘I don’t want to get paid overtime pay. I want to work at my normal wage even if I’m working 50 hours a week.’ Then, of course, all of the other ignorant people will get mad at you, because they believe they’re ENTITLED to get overtime pay, and they believe it’s bad and evil and wrong to NOT get paid overtime pay, and they’ll be jealous of you and they’ll say they wish they could do that too, but at the same time they don’t think it’s right. So you’ll have conflicts with your co-workers if you have any co-workers who are brainwashed more than most people. (Usually, when I talk about this, some of the people kind of agree with me, but there’s always some brainwashed person who insists that overtime pay is a good thing, and they’re always mad at the employers when the employers refuse to let them work more than 40 hours a week and get overtime pay.)

The only way to get more than that ‘upper limit’ of money is to get a second job. It’s pointless, inconvenient, harmful, and stupid. This law is the #1 most stupid and most obvious law that I would change immediately if I had the power to change a law. It would make so many people’s lives easier if they could simply keep working extra hours at one job to go above the ‘upper limit’ that they can get if they work 40 hours.

They might think that it’s easy to get a second job. But it’s hard to schedule it. At least one of your jobs has to have flexible scheduling. McDonald’s is well known for having flexible scheduling, and I read in a magazine that McDonald’s was listed as one of the top ten best places to work, partly because of their flexible schedules, and I agree with that – I like this job for a lot of reasons, and I like it a lot more than other places I’ve worked, and I can work whatever hours I need to work, at whatever time I want. When you get two jobs, at least one of them needs to let you start work after your other job ends. And you have to be able to limit your availability at both jobs. You have to work in the morning at one, and the evening at the other. Or work overnight at one, and evening at the other. And so on. You can’t have one of your jobs say, ‘Your schedule has to be totally open, and you have to be available anytime we want you to come in.’ If they say that to you, then you’re screwed. It means you can’t get a second job, because you are going to have unpredictable scheduling, and so you’re stuck making that ‘upper limit’ amount of money for only 40 hours a week at your one job, unless they let you work overtime, which is unusual.

I HATE THIS LAW.

There are other laws that the libertarians and anarchists hate, but a lot of those laws affect other people, so we can’t see them directly. But we have direct personal experience with the overtime pay law. I can see it and I can see how it directly affects my life. I can see how much easier and simpler my life would be without that law. This law is visible to millions of ordinary people, and LOTS of those people believe that the law is stupid and harmful.

There are lots of other laws I hate. I hate paying income taxes. I hate fiat money. I hate the banking system. I can’t list all the laws I hate.

There are some laws that I disagree with, but it’s not a big issue for me, although it is for some people. For instance, I don’t think it should be illegal to go outside naked. You shouldn’t get arrested for nudity. However, I really don’t care that much about that law, most of the time. My quality of life isn’t that badly affected by this. I can tolerate this law. But the income taxes, THEY have a big effect on my life. Because of the taxes, I have to work thousands and thousands of extra hours, to pay for *NOTHING*. Or pay for things I don’t want, like, pay the soldiers to go kill people in other countries, which I don’t want them to do. My money is used for that.

This is why I’m interested in intentional communities. I can’t control the government at all because of the vote hackers. The only thing I can do is join with like-minded people to work together and build a new culture.

I don’t usually talk about this subject (anarchism), because so many other authors have already written about it, and they’ve explained it so much better than I can. I’m just agreeing with them.

I called myself a ‘minarchist’ for a couple of years while I still believed in voting. It means that I believed in SMALL government, minimal, as little as possible. But now I am totally disconnected from the government, and I call myself an anarchist, and I only obey them so that I don’t get thrown in jail. (I’m thinking of Curtis, who drove his car without a license, after he lost his license for drunk driving, and he got arrested again and lost his license again for another whole year. Originally it was nine months. So he will have gone 21 months without a license.)

Anyway… I’ll just post this for now.

Some emotional moments were removed from the Harry Potter movie, but something might have been added

November 22, 2010

11:01 PM 11/21/10
I saw Harry Potter twice yesterday. I don’t know if this blog qualifies as a spoiler, since many people have already read the books.

I like the movie, simply because I enjoy seeing the familiar faces again. There was one scene that I liked a lot, but I’ll mention a couple things I don’t like first.

In the beginning, the Vernons are leaving the house for the last time. There is no scene where Dudley and Harry forgive each other. They don’t even show a brief second or two where Harry and Dudley bond with each other like they do in the book. In the book, there is just a little bit of a realization, an understanding, between them, where Dudley shows some respect and brotherly love for Harry, when they say goodbye. But in the movie, nothing. Just the Vernons getting in the car, saying it’s not safe here anymore, and then Harry in the empty house. I was disappointed with that. I think the Harry-Dudley goodbye bonding moment was a very important moment. It’s something we’ve been waiting for, all this time, through all the books – all along, we wished Harry and Dudley could get along with each other and find something in common, some understanding, and it finally happens… and they didn’t bother to show it in the movie.

The moviemakers weren’t as interested in ’emotional bonding’ moments as they were ‘big exciting special-effect action’ moments. Of course, there had to be a ‘dangling from a flying vehicle’ scene, just like in the Chamber of Secrets movie (where, remember, they had Harry dangling out of the flying car as they were dodging away from the train, which I don’t remember happening in the Chamber of Secrets book, but it was a ‘Hey let’s do something big and exciting with special effects and action scenes, since this is a MOVIE and it has to be BIG!’), and so, in Deathly Hallows, they had to show Harry’s feet running over the roof of a bus passing underneath them, while Hagrid and Harry were flying in the motorcycle to get away from Voldemort. I would have gladly skipped seeing a couple seconds of Harry’s feet running over the top of the bus while he dangles from the motorcycle, and instead seen him and Dudley bonding and saying goodbye and forgiving each other for a few seconds. But it’s all about action and special effects, not feelings and relationships.

What else got left out? They left out something emotional, and it was a HUGE thing, not just a little thing. Leaving this out made the scene totally unbelievable and unrealistic. It was the scene where Harry, Ron, Luna, and a couple of other characters are trapped in the basement of the Malfoy’s house, while Hermione is upstairs screaming as she is being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. In the book, Ron is screaming and bellowing and trying to break the door down and screaming Hermione’s name over and over. That’s realistic. He is trapped and helpless and Hermione might be about to die. In the movie… you just wouldn’t believe it. It is unthinkable to me how they made that scene in the movie. In the movie, Ron just stands around talking with everyone and he seems calm and apathetic and passive, like ‘Gosh, what are we gonna do?’ kind of thing. He doesn’t seem the least bit upset that Hermione is upstairs making bloodcurdling screams, and believe me, her screams sounded *REAL*. They gave me goosebumps. She is upstairs screaming and Ron is just calmly standing around wondering what to do, like ‘Oh well, Hermione’s gonna die.’ That was TOTALLY UNBELIEVABLE AND UNTHINKABLE. This was a HUGE OMISSION.

What did I enjoy? I liked the dancing at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. I like cheerful scenes full of people, food, and music. It was a good dance song. That’s a ‘something worth fighting for’ moment. There have to be moments like that. Otherwise, you just don’t care about anything. Without any happy scenes, it would be like, who cares if Voldemort destroys the world, there’s nothing worth living for anyway. So they had some good scenes at the Weasley’s house as always.

There was a very special scene that I loved. It was so real and so emotional and heartbreaking. This would be a big spoiler, I think. In fact, I don’t even remember this happening in the book (I could be wrong though), and it might actually have been added to the movie. I don’t remember it at all. But it was GREAT in the movie, extremely well done. It was almost like a scene from a totally different movie, like it wasn’t part of this movie at all. It was like it was made by totally different people. I haven’t seen anything like this in any of the previous Harry Potter movies. Nothing in the other movies ever moved me emotionally as much as this scene did.

It was after Ron disapparated and didn’t come back. Harry and Hermione were continuing on alone. Hermione is listening to the radio and Harry is alone with her. Hermione is miserable and depressed because of Ron leaving. Harry has a playful impulse to invite Hermione to get up and dance with him to the music. Hermione is still sad that Ron has left, but she gets up and dances with Harry and starts to smile and enjoy herself, and they both get into the dancing. They are dancing together and holding each other and having a special moment alone, in a world without Ron, just them. Now that Ron is gone, they’re allowed to express this feeling. It was a moment of euphoric joy, a rebellion against despair, against a whole world falling apart, against hopelessness. It was a wonderful thing to do and it cheered them both up. It was a beautiful moment. You can feel the closeness and the sexual tension between them and the attraction and the desire for them to kiss each other. They are holding each other close, and then Hermione quietly lets go, the music fades, her smile fades, and she sits back down again, saying nothing, and it goes no further. It seemed very, very real, and I didn’t remember seeing that happen in the book at all. Maybe it did, and maybe it didn’t. It was like a moment from another world.

The reading of the Three Brothers fairy tale was TOTALLY AMAZING. They drew a cartoon and it was incredible. The style of the cartoon was what I liked so much. It wasn’t beautiful in a happy way, it was beautiful in a dark way. And I didn’t like it the same way I liked the Harry and Hermione dancing scene. But the drawing style was so amazing I can’t describe it. It was computer animated. I remember noticing the see-through fabrics with lacy edges on the sleeves, and things like that. I liked the swirling autumn leaves that formed into the Death character. I liked the characters’ graceful flowing movements, like a dance.

This is a spoiler. One thing that gave me anxiety, throughout the whole movie, was wondering ‘When’s it going to end?’ The movie has to cut off and end somewhere, and then there will be a second half of the movie later. I kept trying to guess when it would end. I talked to a co-worker who saw the movie, and he said something similar, he said he was trying to predict when the movie would cut off, and he said he guessed wrong. I forget when he thought it would cut off. I kept thinking that it would cut off when Ron abandoned Harry and Hermione. For some reason, that felt like a huge division point in the book. (And apparently, the moviemakers felt that there was great significance to it, too, because of the dancing scene afterwards, which, as I said, was extremely unusual and different from anything in all the other movies.) But that was wayyyyy too early to cut it off. It actually cuts off after the death of Dobby. Voldemort gets the elder wand, and that is the end.

So this is a disaster movie, a world-is-ending movie. We are comforted when we see people bonding with each other in ways that they never bonded before. I never told you I loved you, and I always wished I could say it, but I might as well tell you now, because tomorrow we might all be dead. Those kind of moments. Dudley and Harry bonded when they said goodbye, but that moment was missing from the movie. Ron finally starts demonstrating his love for Hermione, but one of his biggest demonstrations of love – shouting and ‘bellowing,’ I think was the word, bellowing her name while she was being tortured upstairs, and trying to break down the door with his bare hands, like a wild animal – was taken out of the movie. But we see a special moment between Harry and Hermione, where they fight against despair and we see something we’ve never seen before. When we have a disaster, that makes it okay to behave in a ‘socially unacceptable’ way. We can tell them we love them, we can hug and kiss people, touch them, have sex with them, do things and say things we’ve always wanted to. I remember when I was a child and I had a crush on a boy, I would sometimes have a ‘disaster fantasy’ where I imagined that some terrible thing happened, like a tornado destroying the town, and we got stuck with each other in the disaster, and we would do something like sleep together to keep warm. It was an ‘excuse’ to do something that I always wished I could do anyway.

Well, I will surely see the movie another time, and if I notice anything else, I’ll probably write more about it.

random stuff – sabrina, caden, movies, hearing voices

November 20, 2010

1:19 PM 11/20/10

saw sabrina
caden was crying
selling mcd hands
the movie: main character. needs to show eight’s saving grace
voices want me to see curtis very soon and more often
hackers wondered about eye deformities
work today, left early

This is a bunch of random stuff.

I was scheduled to go to work early this morning. That was unusual. It turned out that we weren’t busy and they decided to let me go after I finished making the salads and parfaits.

I think it was yesterday or maybe the night before that I saw Curtis’s mother at McD. Drive-thru customers sometimes tell me that they like my voice. I use prosody, I sing my sentences, so they’re pleasant sounding and not a monotone, and not harsh, and not conveying negative emotions. People tell me that I sound calm and soothing instead of gruff and irritable, not like ‘whaddya want?’ So she said the same thing to me. She was being very nice to me.

She also said she appreciated something about how I took the order, that I didn’t interrupt every time she ordered a Happy Meal to ask her if she wanted fries or apple dippers with the meal. Note, there’s actually a good reason why we do this, why we interrupt and ask about the apple dippers. The computer screen is designed in a user-unfriendly way, so that it’s a major hassle if the customer starts to order a Happy Meal and then says, at the very end, ‘Oh, yeah, and I wanted apple dippers instead of fries,’ and yes, they frequently don’t bother to tell you that. And our *NEW* computer system is *SLOWER* than the lean mean green screen system we used to have. So when you push a button, you have a delay time of a couple milliseconds while you wait for the computer to respond, and the customer keeps on talking, and your short-term memory starts forgetting what they asked for. The new system is badly designed in so many ways, I’d have to write a whole separate blog about it. Anyway I just skipped asking about fries/apples because I’ve decided to use the ‘default option’ a lot lately instead of asking. She was ordering Happy Meals really fast, one after another, so I just took the default options. Curtis has a bunch of half-brothers and sisters, and when his mom goes through McD she gets a lot of Happy Meals.

I saw his mother a few weeks before this, too, back when I hadn’t seen Curtis yet. I saw her and I started crying. Also, there was an incident where Kayla drove through with Caden in the back seat, on the driver’s side, and he looked up at me and he waved, even though he doesn’t know me. I think ‘they’ made him wave. It’s not likely that he did that on his own. I cried a little bit when that happened, but I also had the fakeness/puppet suspicious feeling too. (Like the way I felt about the movie Inception, where they manipulate the guy to do something he wouldn’t have otherwise done, and it’s supposed to be a cathartic, emotional moment when he meets his father at the end, but I know in my mind that it’s fake and it serves someone’s purpose. And like how I couldn’t really get into the movie Avatar, not completely, partly because I got stuck watching it in 3-D when I would rather have watched it the normal way, and also, partly because I was asking, ‘But aren’t the avatars alive too? Don’t they have their own minds and their own personalities? They’re not just blank brains waiting to be controlled. They’re living animals.’ Whatever emotions are being expressed, they’re not completely genuine because they are caused by an external controller, and you can’t ignore that fact.)

Then, last night, I was taking an order, and I could hear a young child crying, ‘waaaaaaahhhhahahahh! ahhhaaaaaaaahhh aaaaaahh! aaaaaaaaaaahhahah!’ I mean, he was REALLLLY crying. I could hear him over the headset while she was ordering. I didn’t know who it was… and then they pulled around to the window and it was Caden, Kayla, and her mother. I don’t know why he was crying. Little kids cry when they’re tired, hungry, cold, sick, or whatever. (I know, because I do too. I just don’t do it in public.) It could’ve been anything.

****
‘They’ are having controversy over the movie that I watched, ‘The Chumscrubber.’ I didn’t mean to make anybody think that this was the ***GREATEST MOVIE EVER*** or that I totally agree with and believe in all of the values and ideas expressed by the movie. But the voices have been bugging me about it, about how the guy… spoiler… does anybody care if it’s a spoiler????… how the one guy dies at the end.

I was reading about moviemaking and about writing fiction. One web page talked about how you can make a story more interesting when you look at it from the point of view of another character, and he did this with the story Little Red Riding Hood, and he developed the character of the Big Bad Wolf.

So the voices were saying that the suspected enneagram eight character, the ‘bad guy’ in the movie, was now the ‘main character.’ They were wishing that he had had a ‘saving grace’ experience, instead of the bad ending that he had. The ‘saving grace’ is something in the enneagram, where each type could possibly become unhealthier and do worse things than they are doing, except that their saving grace makes them realize what will go wrong if they do. I am a self-preservation Four, and I already knew about my own saving grace years ago: whenever my life was going badly, I was able to look into the future and see what would happen if I continued to do what I was doing, about how bad things would get, so I had to take action to change things now before that happened. I don’t remember what word they used to describe this in the book. It might have been something like ‘being honest with yourself, being realistic, instead of fantasizing.’ No more fantasies, no more wishful thinking – what’s going to happen in the REAL world? The saving grace of the Eight is when they realize that if they hurt somebody, then everyone will reject them, and cut them off, and eventually hurt them in return. So they know, don’t hurt people.

So, the eights need to see good role models in movies, of criminal eight characters who turn around when they realize all of the bad things that will happen if they hurt somebody or go too far.

*****
I wrote ‘hackers wondered about eye deformities.’ I was googling stuff about drooping eyes. I know somebody who has drooping lower eyelids, so that you can see the red stuff under the eye, like when you pull them down with your fingers. Her eyes are permanently like that. I wanted to know what’s the name of that condition. She seems to have been born that way, because she showed us baby pictures, and her eyes were like that when she was a young kid. So I heard voices saying that the hackers who spy on my computer were wondering why I was reading about that.

****
‘selling mcd hands’ – This should be a whole separate blog post, and it should be well written, but I’m not going to make that much effort today.

This week at McDonald’s we are supposed to ask for donations for the Ronald McDonald House Charity. If you donate, then you can sign your name on a little paper with a picture of a helping hand on it, and they stick it up on the wall. You don’t have to sign the paper, though.

So I’m supposed to sell them in drive-thru. And it turns out that actually, I’m really good at it. I’m terrible at suggestive selling for the stuff that makes more profit for McDonald’s, like I’m supposed to suggestive sell apple pies, or french fries, or a drink, or would you like the value meal Large Sized, or whatever. I don’t feel comfortable suggestive selling food for profits. But it doesn’t bother me at all to ask for a donation to the RMHC.

But McDonald’s really, really messed up this time. And I can’t believe that, with all their social skills, they didn’t figure this out. They are undermining themselves when they sell the helping hands. Here’s what they did.

I was told that we are supposed to tell customers that they can get a free apple or pumpkin pie if they donate a dollar. As soon as I tried to do this, I knew right away that it was wrong. I did it a couple times and then gave up on it.

First, I did that at the front counter. Selling the hands is harder at the front counter, because you are there looking at the big, scary customer. I hardly sold any at all at the front counter, and I wasn’t comfortable telling them that they would get a ‘free’ apple or pumpkin pie as a ‘reward’ for donating to charity.

Not only that, but of course, we are losing a small amount of money every time we give them a pie, too. Not a big deal, but still. That’s not as important as the undermining ourselves thing.

I can’t explain how I know this, I just feel it. I felt it when I was trying to talk to the customers and offer them a ‘free’ pie for a charity donation. I feel it in myself, like if I were donating to charity, I wouldn’t like this. I don’t like to donate to an anonymous charity like RMHC, but still, I can understand how it feels to want to donate to charity. (I like the ‘direct action’ kind of donation. You know who’s being helped, you know what their problem is, you know what they are getting, you know where the money went.)

You don’t want to get a material ‘reward’ for donating to charity!!!

Nobody wants to! Not just the ‘selfless’ Christians that Ayn Rand complained about. It isn’t just brainwashing, it isn’t just Christianity, it isn’t just mainstream culture. When you donate something to help somebody, you don’t expect to get a material reward. You have reasons why you donate, and you don’t want to get a ‘free pie’ in exchange for a donation! Getting a reward makes it feel repugnant, gross, contemptible. It’s like they don’t understand you at all. And you want to be understood.

There’s a good feeling that I had when I sold the hands in drive thru. I sold TONS of them, and, again, I’m terrible at selling anything else, but for some reason I really found myself when it came to asking for charity.

When the people drive around to the window, I make eye contact with them. I look them in the eye and smile. I smile a little bit more, and my eye contact is a little bit longer and more direct, than it is with the other customers who don’t donate. They smile back at me. We have a bond. We have cameraderie. We have togetherness. We both know and understand something. They are more likely to make a friendly comment about the weather, or about anything at all, to me, a total stranger. This isn’t just a ‘buying something’ transaction. It’s a shared feeling. When they leave, I say, ‘thank you very much,’ and I make sure they can hear me. I hold them there a second or two longer than usual. And they almost always act this way. A few people will still kind of ignore me and act like they’re in their own little world, but not usually. They usually reach out to my world. Almost always.

Give them a free pie? That has nothing to do with it!

And the other people, when they are asking for the donations, they try to sell the free pie because they were told that’s what they’re supposed to do. The rule says that we are to offer the customers a free pie in exchange for a donation.

It makes it sound like this: It’s like, we were trying really hard to get donations, but we failed. It wasn’t working, nobody would donate… until some genius came up with the idea, ‘Hey! Why don’t we offer them a pie!’ And finally, the donation drive was a success! Nobody would donate until we offered them some extra food! But in reality, this is the opposite of the truth! People WANT to donate. They are HAPPY to give. They LIKE doing it! Don’t assume something cynical about how greedy everyone is, about how nobody wants to give unless they get something *material* in return. They do get something in return. They get a good feeling, and a social bond, but not a piece of food.

And that’s not even getting into the issue of whether people even WANT a pie. The pies really aren’t that good. They’re just cheap junk food. I don’t like them very much. I’m sure a lot of people feel that way. People don’t want to be forced to take a piece of cheap, yucky junk food that they really didn’t want to eat! But if you give a donation, you’re REQUIRED to take a pie. Or it seems like it. Now they’re going to try to push this McDonald’s pie on you whether you want it or not! They’ll be asking you questions, ‘What kind of pie would you like, apple or pumpkin?’ And then they have to say, ‘Umm, well, I really don’t want one at all.’ It’s like saying, ‘Give a donation, and get a free platter of greasy grimy gopher guts!’ (Only a Weston Price dieter would say yes to that. I guess that’s a bad example.) You push them to take something they don’t want… so they’d rather not give a donation! Just don’t even bother with the pies. But the other employees were still following the ‘rule’ and offering them the unwanted pies anyway. People usually said ‘no’ to this, at least while I was listening. But they very often said ‘yes’ when I offered them NOTHING AT ALL. It really was about one out of four customers, at least, and sometimes more than that. It was a high percentage of people who gave me money in exchange for NOTHING. And it was more pleasant that way. Nobody had to say (in a ‘yuck’ tone of voice), ‘I’ll donate a dollar, but I don’t want a pie.’

I twittered about this (SilentSoul74) a couple times and said that the only thing that made me not try to ask them for a donation was if I had trouble hearing them. It’s very embarrassing to say, ‘Would you like to give a dollar to the Ronald McDonald House Charity tonight?’ ‘mumble mumble.’ ‘I’m sorry, what was that?’ ‘mumble mumble.’ I usually gave up and didn’t add on the dollar when this happened. One time, I thought they said ‘yes’ when they actually said ‘no,’ and I had to remove the charity donation when they got to the window. So I only try it with people I can hear.

Well, the charity drive is almost over. I’m not sure if we do it tomorrow or not. They said it lasted a week, and I think it’s been almost a week now. But I’m glad I did it. And I learned something I already knew, which is that people enjoy giving, and they like to feel connected to other people, and they like to help people.

*******
so… hearing voices. ‘They’ were wondering about me going to visit Curtis again. This time I would go with nothing, because I just recently gave him something. I would go empty handed and I would talk to him and listen to him, and I would gather up the courage to touch him again. ‘They’ were noticing that I didn’t go yet and were hoping that I would see him more often.

It has to be a required routine. I need a rule for how often I will go see him, and it has to be a duty that I must perform, whether I want to or not. (It doesn’t matter that I enjoy it, and yes, I do. I still find it hard to go do this, because it’s scary and difficult and it’s hard for me to get out of bed. So that’s why I say ‘whether I want to or not.’ I DO want to.) It’s a duty to perform, because I get terrified out of my mind every time I get close to him. I get overexcited and scared, and sometimes I start crying, but not always. If I’m ‘allowed’ to just not bother going there and being tortured and terrified, then I just won’t bother to go. And it’s a ‘good’ torture, because I can see him now with permission, and he wants to continue being my friend, and he likes the things I gave him. But even though I am feeling more safe now it’s still very difficult.

******
I’m going to try to see Harry Potter today. Some of the shows will be sold out, but there might be a few left.

the roller coaster ride

November 19, 2010

Oops, that last post was blank, gotta fix that later.

12:35 PM 11/19/10

I was going to post something last night, but I wasn’t able to get online very well at McDonald’s with my iPod, and I was using the WordPress iPod app, and the blog post that I wrote is now stuck in an endless loop and won’t open. I tried to ‘publish’ it, but it wasn’t able to connect to the internet, and at some point, I turned my iPod off to restart it. When I turned it back on, I could no longer click on the post that I had written. It was in the list that said they were published (not a draft anymore), but it didn’t appear on the web and I can’t open it anymore. Fortunately, it wasn’t a very long one.

In that failed post I was talking about how it feels to be interacting with the real Curtis in email and seeing his facebook page again. I’m able to look at all the photos again and I am being tortured, just as I was before. I get painfully jealous when I see other girls talking to him, and I get jealous when I think of him marrying Carrie, even though I know that my relationship with him isn’t a ‘monogamous marriage’ type of relationship. We have something, and I don’t know the word for it, but it’s like being friends, with at least one of the friends being sexually attracted to the other friend, but not necessarily doing anything about it this instant. I’m sure there’s a word for that somewhere. lol.

So I get jealous of any girls he talks to. And he knows this girl who is a model, as in, she gets her picture taken, and her facebook pictures are professional looking poses, and she is young, and petite, and very pretty. She said she was 5’1″ or something, I forget, and so I see her as competition, because I am 5’2″ and that’s a good thing when you are trying to attract a short, small guy who probably enjoys being a couple inches taller than the girl. She is also intelligent and a good writer, and she always seems to be saying something interesting, and she really seems like a nice person, too. I can’t help liking her. I *like* her. If she was mean and stupid, I wouldn’t be jealous of her, but she’s actually cool.

She tried to go to this modeling competition, and I can almost remember the name of it, but you had to be taller than 5’6″ or something. I’m really trying to remember what it was called now. There was a website for it. I sort of found it. It was something by Tyra Banks. Anyway, I was on HER side – I got mad too whenever she said she wasn’t allowed to get in because she was too short, but the website actually said that they wanted women who would redefine beauty, and they wanted to include ‘plus size’ women along with petite women and other women who aren’t usually in modeling. They actually said the word ‘petite’ somewhere in there. So how come they weren’t letting petite women in? I felt like the whole thing was a fraud after I read about that. That was when I went to look at her facebook page. So again, I’m jealous of this girl and yet I think she’s cool and I can’t help liking her. That’s why it’s so painful. That’s just another part of the torture of seeing his facebook page again and reading all the people he talks to and seeing his photos.

The Tyra Banks website was kind of sad and pathetic in a way. There were comments on the web page from hundreds of people writing to her as though they expected Tyra Banks herself to answer them, like a personal friend. Or like they thought she would actually listen to their suggestions and requests, ‘I wish you would do this, I wish you would do that, I wish you would do a contest that allowed X,’ etc. Or ‘Waaah! Tyra, my life sucks so bad, but you have given me new hope for a new definition of beauty! Thank you so much! Waah!’ And I can’t remember what the lady said, but she had a picture of herself, and she was one of the ‘plus-sized’ women. I know from experience that they never do models of ‘plus-sized’ women who look REALLY fat. They show the borderline normal plus sized women instead. The women who are so barely even pleasantly plump that you can hardly even say they’re fat at all. They don’t show the plus-sized women who weigh 200 pounds. They show the woman who weighs, maybe, 140 pounds instead of 100. Okay, maybe that’s not quite enough. 150? You get the idea.

Anyway the other part of the torture is not just about being jealous of the girls who talk to him, and jealous of Carrie, but also, the feeling that I can’t control what he chooses to do, and he got caught driving his car without a license (because he lost his license in a drunk driving arrest a few months ago), and so he’s lost his license again for a year. In the failed-post blog I was saying that I know how a parent might feel. You love your child but you can’t control what they do, and you wish they wouldn’t do something, but you can’t stop them. That’s how I feel. I wish he wouldn’t take that risk of getting caught driving again. I have a protective feeling and a helpless feeling. I’m scared that something really bad will happen – he said he almost went to jail. I don’t want him to go to jail. I also don’t want him to have to keep paying fines and losing his money on that.

I’m slightly getting used to talking to him in email for real. It was hard for me the past couple days because I had a stomach virus a couple times, and when I’m sick, my emotions are distorted, and everything feels like sickness, so I don’t know how I would really feel on a normal day.

Oddly enough, I think the reason I didn’t cry last time I saw him was because I wasn’t drinking the Amish milk for the past couple days. When I drink the raw milk, I really do cry very easily and frequently and spontaneously. I don’t know what it is about the milk that does that to me. (Not all Amish milk is raw. I just happen to know of an Amish house on a road near here where they happen to sell raw milk.)

I was saying that my feelings are back on the roller coaster ride. And I’m still scared that I will freak out or do something stupid, and I can’t be trusted. I’m afraid I’ll say the wrong thing to the wrong person, online. It’s so easy to do something spontaneous and impulsive, or to be a puppet and be forced to say something. I don’t have control over that, especially if I’m extremely upset and helpless and panicking, like I was when I was trying to tell him not to join the army.

He told me he hardly EVER looks at his old yahoo email. That explained why he wasn’t getting my letters there. And I did send a bunch of things to his yahoo, but I also sent a few to facebook, so he at least got some of them. I can’t remember whether my ‘don’t join the army’ letters were sent to yahoo or facebook, that’s what I was trying to remember, and because of my browser problem, I can’t view my ‘sent mail’ folder on facebook. I’d have to dig around my other email and see if it’s in there.

I guess I should finish this up and get ready to work.

*********
After watching ‘The Chumscrubber’ and watching it again with the director’s commentary, I’m interested in camera angles. When I took the nude video of myself, I did it quickly without thinking about the camera angles, and as a result, there are upside-down shots, and things like that. Then I tried to ‘fix’ that ‘problem’ in the next video, only to find that it took a lot of life out of the video and it was less interesting. The upside-down shots are the view you would have during sex, for instance, in the 69 position when you are crouched over someone. So the upside-down camera angles aren’t bad, they’re good, and you can use them on purpose. Now I’m reading more about camera angles. There are so many ways you can do it.

a letter from curtis

November 18, 2010

I have a little bit of a stomach virus again and I’m not throwing up, but I won’t eat or drink anything. If I weren’t so sick and dehydrated right now, I’d probably be bawling my eyes out. All I did was make a sort of whimpering noise. Curtis sent me an email telling me about the horrible hell of a day he was having. Almost every possible thing that could go wrong did go wrong. I was crying because he answered me, and it was more than a sentence long, and it was friendly.

However, he’s on antidepressants right now. I know from experience that antidepressants totally change your friendliness, and they also can make you seem to give consent to things that you will regret later, such as having a relationship with somebody. It happened to me whenever ‘THEY’ forced me to have some unpleasant relationships with some men who were attracted to me, who wanted to have sex with me, when I wasn’t attracted to them at all. I tolerated those men because I was on antidepressants.

So ‘Consent’ cannot be given while on antidepressants. I will take it with a grain of salt. When he gets off the drugs he might not be friendly anymore.

and that doesn’t even go into how anxious i feel about my own body

November 16, 2010

I have a nice body, in terms of not being too fat or too skinny, being a so-called healthy size. But I have health problems and skin problems and other things that I haven’t even written about in the blog, at least not much. So I’m worried about those things. I’m worried that, whatever I am, it’s not good enough for him. But then again, I’m not asking him to be monogamous with me. I’m not asking him to stop seeing anyone else. But it feels that way. I’m going to be jealous. I’ve already been jealous many times.

am i really doing this?

November 16, 2010

7:54 PM 11/16/10

So I actually got a little bit sick today, and it wasn’t just because of overexcitement. I might have caught a little bit of a virus, but it wasn’t enough to make me vomit for real. I just wasn’t able to eat, and I felt nauseated for most of the day, even after my excitement died down. So everything felt like nausea and sickness all day long.

I was thinking about how it feels to start a new physical relationship in the real world. It’s disgusting, and imperfect, and disappointing, and strange. You see someone’s naked body for the first time, and you’re thinking, oh my god, is that really how you look naked? You’re with them doing the things you fantasized about doing, and when it’s happening you think, I can’t believe I’m really doing this.

That’s one reason why I’m a nudist. There wouldn’t be any adjustment. You’d be used to seeing people naked all the time. It wouldn’t be shocking to see them naked, it would just be closer than usual.

I made it sound like everything is bad. What I mean is, I WANT the real world, even though it is imperfect, or disappointing, or incomplete, or whatever else. I am programmed to always be dissatisfied. I accept this real and imperfect relationship for whatever it is. I want my expectations to be realistic. I know from experience how it feels when a fantasy relationship becomes a real one. I haven’t been with very many people, but it is always strange when you cross over into the real world for the first time. I want the real world – I wouldn’t have it any other way. Loneliness is the other way. I could have my fantasies and always be lonely. Everything would be perfect in the fantasies. In the real world it’s never perfect. I choose the real world anyway.

He’s going to think that he’s too skinny, but that’s not what I mean. I like him BECAUSE he is too skinny. That is what I like. But it takes a while to get used to somebody’s real body even though you like it a lot. I’ve only fantasized about touching him. In the real world it won’t be perfect.

This is all about anxiety, and strangeness, and how weird it is to have the ‘new relationship’ feeling, that sick feeling. I know I was sick all day long, I was nauseated, I think I had a virus, but it also felt like oxytocin sickness from having a new relationship. It felt like the ‘Oh my god, am I really doing this?’ feeling. I learned how to tolerate oxytocin sickness. It feels sick, but it feels good. It took a long time for me to learn that.

success again

November 16, 2010

I ‘stalked’ Curtis again today, and found him.  This time I stayed about five minutes and talked with him, and he invited me back and told me to stop in more often and to keep in touch.  So I can’t really call it ‘stalking’ now.  I’m invited.

It started with butterflies in my stomach.  I disconnected from the internet after writing this morning’s blog, and took a shower and got dressed.  When I was dressed and ready to leave the house, for real, knowing what I was about to do, knowing that I was going get in my car, drive to State College, and go look for him at his job, the butterflies in my stomach began.  It was going to get much worse than butterflies in my stomach.

I decided to go straight into the door where you’re exposed to the produce department right away, instead of sneaking in the other door like I sometimes did.  Then, I thought I saw him, and I walked straight back to where he was.

The butterflies got much worse and became a flood of terror and adrenaline, and my heart was pounding fast.  That is what always happens when I decide to approach him nowadays.  That’s because I’m not just working in the next department beside him like I used to.  I can’t just wander over to visit him now and then in between tasks.  Instead, I have to walk into a place, deliberately, where I don’t belong, where I’m an outsider, where I have no reason to be (because I don’t shop there), and I have to go to him with a purpose, and I can’t pretend to be doing anything else.  Everyone can see me, including him, and everyone knows I’m an intruder.  It’s like in Inception where all the dream projection people turn to look at you, all at once, a thousand hostile faces.  In reality, they’re not hostile to me, but they know I exist, at a time when I’d rather they didn’t know I exist.

So I saw him.  He was doing my old job.  I worked at that store, and also at the one across town, years and years ago, and during some of my time there, I used to chop fruit for hours and hours, and I got up at 4:30 in the morning to get there.  That’s what he’s doing now.  I quit that job.  I actually saw him cutting up pineapple the way that I used to.  I remember how it felt to hold the slices of pineapple in my hand, cut out the core, and chop the slice of pineapple with the knife while holding it in my hand, and then cut the skin off.  He was doing that when I saw him.  It wasn’t pineapple, it was watermelon or something else that he was working on, but I saw the pineapple sitting on the table there.  He was doing it fast and skillfully.  You get so used to it, after doing it for hours and hours every day, that you can do it automatically.  It was years and years ago, but I can still pick up a knife and I can do the same thing the same way.  I’m not afraid of chopping pineapple anymore.  It looks so scary at first, all hard and spiky and inedible, with the big sharp poky leaves on top.  But I know an automatic routine to get right into it quickly in a couple of seconds.  He knows how to do that now.  But it was hard for me to go to that job at 5 AM.  That job is actually one of the reasons why I officially search for jobs that will let me work in the afternoon or evening, because it was almost impossible for me to get up that early.  That’s how I learned.

So I said, ‘Hey,’ or something, and then said it a little louder.  This time, it was easier to get his attention.  I didn’t have to shout ‘hey’ four or five times like before.  (That was embarrassing.)  It was only on the second ‘hey’ that he turned and looked at me.  I beckoned him to come over.  He took his gloves off and came over.

So we stood together and talked, and I was having a panic attack at first, but it died down a little bit after talking to him.  I gave him a note and a gift, and I said, ‘Same as last time.  Don’t lose it.  There’s something important in there.’  He thanked me and took it.  Then I could have run away, but I didn’t.  I leaned against the counter and talked with him.

He has had a bunch of disasters.  This is a suspicious coincidence, and I wonder if we’re being attacked.

1. Kayla and Caden had a car accident. They’re okay.  That explains why Kayla and her mother have been driving a different car when I see them in the drive-thru.  I only noticed that a week or so ago.  He said the car was totaled.

2. His aunt had a car accident.  She had to get all kinds of stitches and other work done to fix her hip and her leg.

3. I myself also had a car accident recently.

So that’s all the car accidents.  Also, Carrie had a health problem and they were very worried about it, but she seems to be okay again.  Curtis had a tooth taken out.  He had mentioned a sore tooth many months ago when we still worked together.  He’s taking a bunch of different pills now.  He doesn’t know why they gave him all the different things they gave him.  That fits with the movie I just watched.  Some of it is for the pain.  They also gave him antidepressants, and a steroid.  I don’t know what the steroid is for, but it’s usually for swelling.  Now, I’m going to get worried about that and I will want to write him notes with all the dire warnings about what those drugs can do.  (Steroids = Cataracts, blindness, violent outbursts…  Antidepressants = Severe withdrawal symptoms, impotence, suicide, murder, worsening of anxiety and depression…)  The doctors won’t have told him *ANY* of that!  He won’t have any idea.

My love notes are usually ‘worry notes,’ not love notes.  Now and then, I will write a little bit about ‘How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways,’ kind of stuff, but not usually.  I sometimes talk about how I want to touch him and I’m afraid to.  Usually it’s the ‘I’m worried about this, I’m upset about that, woe is me,’ kind of thing.  Not really a love note.

He thanked me.  He told me to keep in touch.  He said to stop in more often.  (And no, I understand that he doesn’t always expect me to bring him my gifts.  He wants to see me and talk with me.  I know.  My gift is a way of providing support and showing him that I am serious and I mean what I say, and I demonstrate it through action.  But he likes me too.)

‘They’ have pointed out that it’s analogous to feeding the dog or the cat.  The cats and dogs get their food from us, but we also feel that they love us in general, and it’s not just a fake love, it’s not just pretend, just to manipulate us and get food.  This is analogous.  He was friends with me long before I ever gave him anything.  He didn’t get anything ‘in return,’ except my friendship, all those months when we worked together and talked together.  We worked together for over a year.

I was glad to see him, to stand close to him, to smell him (it’s that same wonderful perfume, whatever it is, deodorant or something?), to look in his eyes, to listen to his voice.  I didn’t touch him, but I came very close to doing it.  I almost did.  Maybe sometime I will.

I didn’t cry this time.  That was different.  Both times when I saw him before, I cried.  I cried before and after seeing him.  This time I didn’t cry.

However, my panic attack was really bad after I finally walked away.  I felt overexcited.  I wanted to touch him and I almost did it.  So I was panicking and overexcited, and trembling, and hyperventilating and panting (but I did this quietly, not in a way that anyone around me would notice), and I felt like I was going to gag and throw up.  You could laugh and say, ‘Ah, love,’ because that’s the cartoon version that everyone has seen, someone who gets so excited that they make themselves sick.  That’s exactly how I felt.  But I didn’t cry.

And so.  Back to life.

Movie: The Chumscrubber; and ‘Something Worth Fighting For,’ a vision of something happy in movies

November 16, 2010

7:06 AM 11/16/10

I watched a movie called ‘The Chumscrubber.’

It all started when I recently googled ‘Less is more.’ I can’t remember what it was that annoyed me so much. Maybe it was because my browser wouldn’t work on one of my favorite web pages, or something like that. I like basic, simple web pages where almost everything is done using plain HTML. I like web pages that are retro-friendly, pages that could be viewed in old browsers and alternative browsers like Opera. I like pages that don’t use Flash. Whatever it was that annoyed me, I don’t remember, but I wanted to read about the ‘Less is more’ philosophy of web page design.

I ended up reading a bunch of different web pages. One of them talked about the psychology of making choices. I’ve read about this before, so I vaguely knew about it. It said that scientific studies have shown this, and also, it’s something that I personally experience.

They did a test where customers could look at six different types of fruit jams, or 24 different types of fruit jams. They found out that when there were a large number of different choices, people would look at it but not buy anything. They were more likely to actually buy something from the display that showed only 6 different kinds of jam. People feel anxiety when there are dozens of choices and they don’t know which one is the ‘best’ one to pick, and they can only have one, or they want to buy a whole bunch of different types, but they will still feel anxiety thinking that the other remaining kinds might have been better.

I know all about this. I know because I have ADHD, and every choice and every action feels that way for me. It’s especially bad when I think about long-term plans for my life that will require years of commitment. Do I want to go back to college, but also, put myself deeply in debt on borrowed money, only to find that there are no ‘jobs’ available for someone with my major, because I’m not the aggressive type of person who makes my own ‘job?’ (Yes, I feel pessimistic about college. Even if I were able to completely finish and graduate, I still might not have a ‘job’ automatically handed to me by magic. And then I would have a college debt to pay off.) Do I want to start my own business? If so, what business? What will I do? I could do arts and crafts, but right now, I only have beginner level skills in a variety of different things, and I’m not skillful enough to start making money at anything right away. And I’m afraid I’ll start the project and abandon it after a little while because of some unexpected problem, like an attack of severe fatigue. Every long-term plan seems to have too many options and too many risks, and I’m afraid I’ll be missing out on something if I close off other alternatives. Should I live in Pennsylvania, or should I go to a lower-tax country, or should I go someplace with a better climate, or should I go someplace with really rich soil for farming?

It might be easier if there were fewer choices available to me. You have to choose from a small number of things, and then, make do with it. I’ve thought about this with regard to marriage. I’ve thought that maybe I should choose to have a ‘loveless practical marriage’ so that I can have children before it’s too late, instead of trying to find someone that I’m passionately attracted to who also meets all of my other criteria, because I’m so picky that it’s hard to find people, and almost all of the men available are unattractive to me. I could take too long if I look for true love, and then I wouldn’t be able to have children anymore. A loveless practical marriage would limit my choices so it would be easier to make the decision. I wouldn’t have to keep looking for a man who was ‘perfect’ in every possible way.

Anyway, about ‘The Chumscrubber.’

I felt like renting a movie last night. It was my night off. I still rent movies the old-fashioned way, by walking into a movie rental store. Mike’s Video is the one I go to, in Bellefonte. The other Mike’s Video stores went out of business. There used to be one in town, in State College, that I used to go to when I lived there.

So I often get overwhelmed by the number of choices at the video store. Sometimes I like to rent a movie from Lyken’s gas station, because they have only a small number of movies to choose from, so I’m forced to choose something almost at random that I never really thought I wanted to see. I’ve found a few interesting movies that way. Not great movies, not movies that I would buy and watch over and over again, but interesting enough to watch once or twice.

Last night, the voices gave me a recommendation that would limit the number of choices. They said, ‘Get a movie that contains the letter B.’ It doesn’t have to begin with B. It has to contain the letter B. So I randomly browsed the shelves, and I don’t remember all the movie titles that I skimmed over. (I know I didn’t feel like watching ‘Macbeth.’) That’s how I picked ‘The Chumscrubber.’ It had a B in the title. Then I also got the new version of Alice in Wonderland, too. That didn’t have a B in it. It was a spontaneous choice. I’m not sure why I got it.

By strange coincidence, both of these movies happened to have a scene where someone gets their eye poked out. How many movies can you think of that have a scene with someone getting their eye poked out? Not that it matters.

So, Chumscrubber had lots of cute teenage boys in it, so I enjoyed watching it for that reason. It actually turned out to be a good movie, not just because I liked to look at the actors, but because of the story. It was about people drugging themselves. I’ve been trying again to look for enneagram type eight in real life and in movies. (Supposedly, there is a strong attraction between Fours and Eights. But also, there can be a strong repulsion, too. Sometimes we look at an Eight and say, ‘That represents absolute evil.’ Other times, they are the ones we love more than anyone else. I was reading about this and I felt the same way.)

Eights, Fours, and Sixes are in the ‘Reactive Triad’ in the Harmonic Groups. (The other two groups are the Competency Group and the Positive Outlook Group.) That’s something that has helped me identify Eights.

The main character in the movie, I forget his name, I would have to look at the movie again – he saw someone die, and he walked away without telling anyone. (Don’t worry, this situation gets fixed very quickly. I was afraid that the whole movie would be all about that. I was afraid that he was going to get blamed for it, that they would think he was guilty of murder or something, because he was there around the time when it happened. But that’s not how the movie goes.) Walking away from something horrible, without telling anyone, seemed realistic to me. I can actually imagine real people doing something like that.

It reminds me of something Peter told me recently. He said there was an accident on the road, where somebody committed suicide by walking in front of a car on purpose, and the guy who hit him fled the scene – he left and went home. He was terrified. His grandmother made him go back and talk to them so that they would know who did it. He didn’t get in trouble for it. But I have heard of this kind of thing before. People get so scared and upset and they think that nobody will understand, and they think that they could get arrested, or they think that nobody will listen to them. That’s how it was in the movie, he thought nobody would care.

There was something that I thought was funny in the movie. The kid’s parents kept urging him to take a psychiatric drug. He was already taking the drug illegally by buying it from his friends at school. When his parents gave it to him he took it gladly. This is the opposite of my situation. My parents, and other people, have said that I need psychiatric drugs, and I’ve fought against them and said that I want to take as few drugs as possible, and I do take a small amount of drugs, but I’m not happy about it, and ideally, I would rather not, and I want to work towards living without them. Right now I sometimes use St. John’s Wort and I take Vivarin pills for the caffeine (although they’re not working very much anymore, because I’ve gotten a tolerance for them). So I see the situation in reverse, that I don’t want to take drugs, and if anyone tries to make me do it, I fight against them.

But the kid in this movie grabbed the bottle, ripped it open with his teeth, and gulped down like three pills at once, dry, while his dad watched, after he handed him the bottle.

All of the people in the movie had that fake cheerfulness that comes from being on drugs. I saw it in almost all of them. I don’t know if all the adults were on drugs. I’m assuming that they were. They were always smiling in a fake way even when they were talking about dark subjects like the kid’s suicide. That’s one of the reasons why I don’t like being on drugs. It makes me numb and unfeeling and ‘always cheerful.’ When I have that reaction to St. John’s Wort, I walk into McDonald’s to go to work, and everybody looks at me and smiles back at me. I walk around with a permanent smirk on my face, wrinkling up the corners of my eyes, and people can’t help reflecting that look. It’s normal for (non-autistic) people to reflect the facial expressions of the people they look at. (And no, if you don’t do that, I’m not saying you’re autistic. Some people do it more obviously than other people do.)

Do I envy the people in the movie? Yes, in a way: they had energy. They achieved their goals. They had money and good jobs. They didn’t suffer from constant chronic fatigue. Even without their drugs, they were able to achieve more than I can achieve.

I don’t want to be ‘wealthy’ in an obvious way. I want to make enough money that my bank account doesn’t keep getting overdrawn. I want to make enough money that I can set aside money for long-term savings. I want to make enough money that I have some set aside for accidents and disasters and problems, like a job loss, or a car accident where I need to buy a new car. Those things are unpredictable, but at the same time, you know that they are likely to happen sooner or later in the next eighty years. Sooner or later, something bad will happen to you, and you don’t know exactly what it will be, but you know it will be SOMETHING. And you’ll need money to survive while it’s happening.

The ‘dolphin’ guy behaved like a Myers-Briggs ‘Idealist.’ He was interested in abstract ideas and meaningful connections between events. And that type happens to be symbolized by dolphins. I wonder if the movie writers have read that book? I don’t remember which author it was, if it was David Keirsey or someone else, but someone writing about the Myers-Briggs types characterized the Idealists as ‘dolphins.’ (I can’t remember what the Artisan types were.)

‘Trinity’ from The Matrix played a ‘MILF’ in this movie. Unfortunately, nothing happened with her. (Maybe I should look at the deleted scenes?)

******

I haven’t seen Curtis in a few weeks. The last time I saw him, I gave him a love note with a gift in the envelope. I went looking for him a week or two ago, and I thought I might have seen him from far away, but when I got closer, the person I saw wasn’t there anymore, and I didn’t see him again, so I left. ‘They’ haven’t urged me very strongly to go looking for him. However, the voices have been bugging me, and bugging me, for a couple of weeks now, and it’s gotten worse in the past week.

They’ve been pretending that Curtis misses me and wants to see me. They’ve been fantasizing about me touching him, hugging him, holding hands with him, kissing him (although I always avoid kissing him on the mouth, because I want to be safe and find out about STDs first, and I mean MY possible STD’s, not just his; and also, I don’t want to think about having sex with him yet either, because there are some things we would need to talk about first). I always fight whenever they show me these fantasies. I don’t believe that it will actually happen. In reality, I am always having a panic attack when I see him, and I visit him and then run away as quickly as possible. If I were neutral, if it didn’t matter so much, if my feelings weren’t so strong, then I would be able to do it more easily. If I didn’t need to touch him so badly, I could do it.

Being bugged by the voices isn’t the same as a strong urge to do something. They cause me to suffer, and be sad, and worry, and to be unable to stop thinking about it, but that’s not the same as a control urge. When they urge me strongly in a controlled way, there is actually a manual command to get up and do each small step of the process. The voices urge me to get up out of bed, go take a shower, get dressed, and do whatever else I have to do to wake myself up in the morning. (Meanwhile, I hear voices telling me that they wish I didn’t have to take a shower because they like the way that I smell. I know, but I have to, because of the transdermal drugs. If my house weren’t full of transdermal drug residues, then I wouldn’t have to shower every day.)

The voices actually urge me and command me for every small step, until I’m up and I have momentum. This is because of the fatigue and the ‘depression.’ I don’t like to use the D-word, because it’s a catch-all word that destroys all the subtle nuances of what I experience. For instance, I feel constant burning pain over almost all of my body, but it’s a low-level pain that I forget to notice, a pain that I get used to. It’s especially bad in the joints, like my elbows and shoulders. It’s also bad in the muscles of my arms. That constant pain makes me not want to move or do anything. All I want to do is sleep. I can’t sleep because of the insane murdering morons who zap me awake several times each night after only a couple hours.

Anyway, when I have ‘constant low-level burning pain in my joints, muscles, and over all of my skin, which makes me want to lie there and sleep instead of moving,’ I don’t like to just label it ‘depression.’ Just because an antidepressant drug makes that pain go away, doesn’t mean that the pain should be called ‘depression.’ And yes, if I take Prozac or other antidepressants, that pain DOES go away.

(Ideally, I want to cure the problem that is causing that low-level pain. What exactly IS that pain? What’s causing it? And I wonder if people in primitive societies feel that pain. That’s why I like the Weston Price book. He said that in the most primitive societies, everybody was much healthier than the modern people living in town. Is it environmental illness? Is it the mold in the air? Chemical poisons in the paint on the walls? Anything, something in the modern life is causing me to feel this way. I don’t want to just take a drug that gets rid of the symptom. I want to fix the problem for real.)

St. John’s Wort is a little different – it gives me a wide variety of drug effects depending on how fresh the pills are, which is the reason why I started growing my own fresh herb a few years ago – and it numbs the pain a little bit, but not quite as much, and not in the same way, not as completely as Prozac did.

Prozac made me into a total zombie, a robot. I felt nothing. And I felt so uncomfortable on Prozac, so unnatural, so strange, that I actually opened up the pills (which were already at the lowest dose) and took only half of the powder. Then I went to my psychiatrist, who heard that I was reacting badly to the lowest dose, and that I was taking only half of it, and he said to me, in a disappointed voice, ‘Oh, I had been planning to raise your dose!’ This is the same doctor who never told me about all the side effects of Prozac because he believes in the fallacy of the ‘Placebo Effect,’ and I’ve never written the blog that I’ve always sworn I would write, a couple of blogs where I would rip them a new one, so to speak, about the fallacy of the placebo effect. This doctor said that if he had told me about the side effects BEFORE I took the drug, then I would have ‘imagined’ that I was experiencing those side effects merely because he had warned me about them. That is the placebo effect fallacy. And I’d love to talk all about this sometime.

Anyway… the movie. When I read the title ‘chumscrubber,’ I was thinking of ‘chum,’ the fish food in a bucket, that they give to the dolphins living in the aquarium. It’s like, fish guts or something. (The murderers thought it was funny to force me to write the word ‘cum’ instead of ‘chum’, as a typo, but that’s not what I was thinking of. I really was thinking of ‘chum,’ a bucket of fish guts. Now I will have to look up that word on the net and remember why I know that ‘chum’ is a bucket of fish guts fed to dolphins. I must have read this in some book somewhere.)

But no, it means ‘The Friend-Killer.’ ‘Chum’ is ‘buddy,’ and ‘scrub’ is ‘to kill.’

The only unrealistic, unbelievable thing that happened in the movie was the drugged casserole. I don’t think that the people would have been laughing and having fun. They would have had some bizarre drug interaction and probably a bunch of people would have collapsed and gone to the hospital. It wouldn’t have been a recreational, funny experience. There are several scenes with people taking more than one different drug at a time and not worrying about the drug interactions. When you take a bunch of different pills at once, it will do such strange and terrible things to you that you might either drop dead or go to the hospital and barely survive and be so sick you wish you were dead. An example is, two different kinds of antidepressants, taken at once, can give you serotonin syndrome, which can cause you to have extremely high blood pressure, and have a stroke. So that was the only thing that I didn’t believe, in the movie. But in the movie’s story, it was a sort of ‘You deserve this’ scene, like the karma strikes back at them. It made sense in the world of the movie.

This was a movie that I won’t be watching over and over again, because I don’t like to watch ‘dark’ movies again and again. They make me feel depressed. But it was good to watch it once. It had a happy ending, true. But I have to watch a movie where a longer time, a bigger percentage of the time, is spent doing happy things in happy places.

Let’s give a couple examples. I like watching the ‘Shire’ time period in the Lord of the Rings movies. It’s pleasant to watch the hobbits walking around living their daily lives, buying and selling in the market, in a pleasant, green, healthy place with plants and animals. In contrast, I don’t feel happy watching a ‘Dystopian Future’ sci-fi movie, where the whole world is made of crumbling asphalt and concrete and the air is polluted with smoke and there isn’t any sunlight. I don’t feel happy watching the ‘Real World’ scene in The Matrix, when Morpheus shows Neo what’s happened in the outside world, for the first time, and the sky is covered with clouds.

I like watching the ‘Weasley Family’ scenes in Harry Potter. It’s a big group of people interacting with each other in a comfortable way. They love each other. They are doing things together as a family, eating together, going on field trips together to see the World Cup, and that kind of thing. I also like seeing Harry and friends at school, with all the other kids, in their houses, and in their classrooms, a group of people learning things together and living together and sleeping in a dorm room together. This is a pleasant place to be. It’s ‘Something Worth Fighting For,’ as Harry says at the end of ‘The Order of the Phoenix’ movie. You have to have something worth fighting for. The Shire is also something worth fighting for. Some pleasant home, some healthy place to be, some memory of love and friendship and family, something to live for.

But in ‘The Chumscrubber,’ I see a ‘dystopian’ modern community filled with fake, shallow people who don’t really love each other very much. I see parents who can’t talk to their children and can’t relate to them. I see people who can’t look at truth or darkness or possibilities or anything but the mainstream world that they see around them. They can’t talk about anything. It’s an unpleasant place, and I wouldn’t like to live there. It’s not ‘something worth fighting for.’ So I won’t watch that movie over and over again. I need to watch something pleasant and wonderful and inspiring and refreshing in the midst of something bad. I don’t want to watch a movie where almost everything is bad, almost all the time. In the world of that movie, I would say that there should have been more love scenes, more relationship scenes, with the main character and the girl he liked, more scenes where they are getting to know each other and finding out how much they like each other.

I guess that’s it for now. I’ll post this and then get on with whatever I’m going to do today.

I have to deal with something I started recently. I posted an ad on Craigslist asking for help at home. I did this before, I did it last year, and it worked out okay, and I learned from it, and I know better what NOT to do (for instance, they must have their own transportation, and I don’t want to give them rides to and from my house). So now, people are replying to my ad, and I have to answer their emails.

I had trouble posting the ad. There was a technical problem. I posted the ad, but it wouldn’t appear. I need to do some more testing, but it seemed to happen if either 1. if I wrote anything in the ‘pay’ or ‘no pay’ line at the very bottom, it wouldn’t work, but if I left that line blank and set on ‘no pay,’ it WOULD post, or 2. the ad was longer than a couple sentences long, it wouldn’t post. I’m not sure which one it depended on. I didn’t finish testing, because, as usual, I was overwhelmed with exhaustion, and didn’t have much time, and I only worked with it for a couple of minutes. However, I finally got something to post, and now I have to fix it. And I have to answer emails and explain to people what it is that I want from them. And I have to learn from experience what it is that I want, because I already know that I’ll be dissatisfied somehow. I’ll work with them, only to find that I’m not able to explain all of my ‘secrets’ to them, that they won’t believe in the existence of transdermal drug residues, that they won’t believe that I really need an electro-sonic shield to block out the voices and the attacks (which is one of my failed projects that I need help with).

Being able to tell them everything on my to-do list, and getting their support to get it done, is what I want, ideally, but in reality, I will have to tell them only a couple of tiny little ‘believable’ mainstream things first, and get help with those, in a mainstream belief system, from a mainstream point of view. (‘Waahhhh! Woe is me! I’m sick with chronic fatigue and chemical sensitivity, but we all know that it doesn’t exist and it’s only in my imagination, and it’s actually ‘depression,’ and I should go to a psychiatrist and get an ‘antidepressant’ drug to fix it, but instead I want you to ‘humor’ me and help me clean up the ‘imaginary’ contamination that I ‘believe’ is making me sick! Wink, wink, we both know that I’m crazy.’) That is the way that I have to work with people. That is the reason why I am antisocial and I hate everybody. But even so, they will help me get SOME of the work done, at least, the cleaning up piles of garbage, and doing laundry, and that kind of thing. For now, I have to work with that.

the missile

November 9, 2010

The Matrix Disclaimer

Today I took Peter to the doctor, and when I was in the waiting room, I saw a television, which I don’t usually see, since I don’t have cable or anything at all at my apartment and I never watch TV. So I got to see the news, which was unusual. There was a mysterious, unexplained missile-like thing that was launched near California. I wouldn’t have ever heard about it if I hadn’t been in the waiting room.

Anyway, I commented on Twitter that I hoped the missile would hit one of the matrix mind control satellites. For the rest of the day, I got bombarded with voices after that, expressing concern, and wanting me to talk about this subject.

First, my disclaimer about ‘the Matrix.’ I believe that it’s possible, but I’m not absolutely certain, that everybody, all of the time, is being spied on and controlled by a field similar to a radio broadcast. I don’t know any details about it, I only know what I experience. This might not be what’s happening. Instead, the attacks and surveillance might be only targeted at a small number of people, while the rest of the people are ignored most of the time. I don’t know.

So I sometimes talk about ‘The Matrix,’ meaning a system that controls everybody’s moods and thoughts, and spies on everybody. However, I believe that the material world around us is real, unlike the Matrix in the movie. In the movie, even the material world was imaginary. I don’t think that the real mind control system works that way, but I have no way of knowing. I just assume, for now, that the material world is real, but that there are attackers using an unknown method to spy on, and control, large numbers of people. I can only imagine what kind of systems and methods they use, so sometimes I think it might come from satellites, and I wish somebody would destroy the satellite systems that are being used. And that’s where my Twitter comment came from.

But I don’t want anybody thinking that the real world is only an imaginary computer simulation like in the Matrix movie. I assume that when you die, you’re really dead for real. I assume that there’s no way to escape from this material world. I am planning to die when I am a hundred years old. Then I’ll find out what happens when you die. Hopefully, I will have had some children before then, too. That’s the plan.

So ‘they’ wanted me to make that disclaimer, since I was commenting on a popular, trending topic on Twitter, and it’s likely that my comment might have been read by a lot of people, who might possibly look at my blog as a result.

This blog isn’t action-oriented, not yet. It is just a journal about my life, about love, about hearing voices and being controlled, about chemical sensitivity, and about other random things. And yes, I would like to be more action-oriented, but I suffer from moderate to severe chronic fatigue, so it’s hard for me to do much more than drag myself to my job, and then come home and go to bed, or write a few blogs.

“Disappointed that you tried…?” No, I’m GRATEFUL that you tried.

November 8, 2010

Disappointed that you couldn’t be like me?
Disappointed that you tried to be like me?

No, I’m grateful that you tried to be like me. Thank you for trying.

What’s this all about?

I was thinking about the future of the Order.

What happens if I create the Order, but some of the members start to think they can do it better than I can? I see myself trying to start the Order, but some bossy people start thinking that THEY know what it’s about, and I don’t. They start complaining that I’m too extreme, that they don’t want to follow this rule or that rule, but they like the other ideas. They like this, but they don’t like that. They like the idea of getting a bunch of people together to cooperate with each other and help each other, or enjoy each other’s company, or work together, or trade together, or do car pools together, or cook together, or have their own religion together. But one or two of my ideas are too extreme, and they just don’t like that one particular thing, and they don’t think we should be doing it.

Maybe they don’t want us to be required to eat the same diet. Maybe they don’t like the idea of not being allowed to cut our hair, or, the idea of losing status, losing compliance, if you do cut your hair while you’re in the Order. There’s always going to be something that they don’t like. Some rule they don’t want to follow. They joined this group thinking it was one thing, but actually it turned out to be something else, and it’s not what they wanted.

What’s my reaction to that?

I’m grateful that you tried.

They tried to be like me, but they couldn’t. I’m disappointed that it didn’t work out, but I’m glad they tried to do it. We can still be friends.

I encourage them to start their own group with their own name and their own reputation. People aren’t competing to call themselves ‘retmeishka.’ That’s a unique glossolalia name with no meaning. I didn’t try to monopolize some really cool-sounding, meaningful name that everybody wants to have, for instance, ‘The Free Will Order,’ or something. I didn’t take that name. I called myself a unique, meaningless name.

Somewhere down the road, in the future, after I die, people will struggle to follow the original intent of the Order. They will struggle to define the founder’s original spirit. What would Nicole Binns do? What did she want for the Order? It’s just like any other religion. After someone dies, people struggle to follow their spirit, without any guidance except their own interpretation of that person’s writings, the memory of that person. They can only try. That person is gone, and that person can’t tell them whether they’re doing a good job or not. That person can’t tell them whether they’re accurately following the original intent, the original spirit, or not.

Sometime in the future, there will be a schism in the Order, just like there is with any religion. Someone will decide that the name retmeishka has been corrupted beyond repair. People are calling themselves retmeishka, but it no longer follows the original spirit of the founder. What do we do? Are we disappointed that you tried to be like me, and you failed?

No, I’m grateful that you tried. Both sides of the schism were trying to follow the original intent, the original spirit. They disagreed about what that spirit was. Thanks for trying.

And then, there are those people who aren’t even TRYING to follow the original spirit. They’re just making their own thing and naming it after themselves. What do I say about that? I say, go with my blessing. I WANT them to build their own groups. It’s helpful for people to have a group to be in, even if that particular group is doing something we disagree with. Usually, for the most part, a different group with minor disagreements isn’t doing anything really bad. Groups as such are helpful. They help people meet each other, work together, and cooperate. They support and guide people who don’t know what to do. They give people something to rebel against, something to disagree with, something to question. It’s better than having nothing at all.

So, sometime in the future, people will leave. They’ll disagree about the original spirit that we’re trying to follow, they’ll say that one person or the other person isn’t really following the original spirit. Or someone else will leave and create their own group, with their own spirit, and not even worry about what my original spirit was trying to do. Or they’ll be inspired by bits and pieces of it, but they don’t want the whole thing. They can all go with my blessing, and, thank you for trying. Thank you for trying to be like me, and, thank you for being yourself.

This is something that inevitably happens when you start an intentional community.