Archive for December, 2011

The Coat of Visibility

December 28, 2011

Yeah, I wore the coat to Wal-Mart when I got some new shoes. The previous cheapo pair of shoes got worn through the bottom of the sole, and it had a big crack in both shoes that the water was coming through, and I couldn’t see the crack until I looked closely and bent it, but that’s why they were getting wet inside even though I wasn’t walking through deep puddles. I wore them to McDonald’s, and that’s hard on a shoe, so that’s probably why they wore out faster. I’ve ordered a new pair of real nonslip work shoes. Anyway, I got another cheapo pair for the time being so that I can walk around without going completely insane from constant drug reactions.

People at Wal-Mart, and everywhere else, were looking at me with very negative emotions. Shock, surprise, disdain, horror, and other emotions were visible on their faces. The coat makes me look huge, especially because the shoulders are so big and square. It looks hideously gaudy, like I’m wearing a big polka dotted cape or feather boas or something. It’s huge and noticeable and you can’t not see it – it catches your attention. Everyone looked at me – no one just glanced over me like I was invisible – you couldn’t miss it.

People believe that fur is nothing but a symbol of extravagant wealth, and that is all that it is. They have forgotten that it has a practical purpose. They’ve never worn fur and they don’t know how extremely effective and practical it is. They’ve been brainwashed to believe that our wimpy, thin fabrics are superior to fur and more practical than fur.

Fur stops the wind blowing. The wind blows against the surface of the fur, and it gets tangled up in it, and it can’t blow through the puffy downy layer underneath the long smooth outer protective hairs. But if you have a smooth piece of fabric, the wind blows directly over it, directly into it and through it. Even if you make several layers of quilted fabric with stuffing inside them, you still actually feel the wind blowing over the outside of the fabric. But in a fur coat, I don’t feel the wind flowing over me. It breaks up the wind and stops it. It catches the wind. When the wind hits me, it catches the coat and almost knocks me over, because of all the wind resistance. The wind pushes me around. That could be viewed as a negative thing, but it’s not a problem for me right now.

I don’t want people to give me compliments about my coat, though. They’re staring at me with horror and shock, but I don’t want them to tell me that my coat is beautiful or ask me how much it cost. I want to tell them I’m wearing this because it is the ideal material for keeping warm, and I got it secondhand, and it’s rotten and 40 years old. (If I didn’t have the drug residue sensitivity, I wouldn’t hesitate to go get lots of other furs secondhand, and still I might try to do it anyway.)

I want to be surrounded by other people who are all wearing fur for the same reasons I am. Then nobody will give compliments, and they won’t stare at each other in horror either. Fur coats will be taken for granted as a normal and necessary piece of clothing. I don’t want them to be viewed as signs of wealth.

They are, in a way, a form of wealth. I was talking about subsistence economies yesterday. Hunter-gatherer tribes collect furs and skins, and they trade them with modern civilizations. Furs are a ‘cash commodity,’ sort of like a ‘cash crop,’ something grown in a particular area that can always reliably be traded for cash or used to buy things. It is a store of wealth. Vegetable fabric isn’t usually viewed the same way, as a store of wealth. It’s viewed as being so extremely cheap and commonplace that it wouldn’t be worthwhile to stock up on it. However, unprocessed cotton is a ‘cash crop’ in the places where it’s grown.

There are other vegetable fibers that could be used. When I was experimenting with building a fire, a few weeks ago, when I was looking for fuel, I found this weed, some kind of grass, with very long strong fibers in it, and it could be used like flax. But it was some nameless and unrecognized plant. I wanted to find out what it was, but that was low priority at the time.

Hopefully, anyway, my new shoes will end this reaction I’m having and I won’t be constantly talking so much. And I will get through this week of taking the Flagyl – it seems to be causing very few side effects at all – I hardly notice I’m taking it. It’s actually the generic brand.

I’m a little confused about what to do and how to do it. I know I need to do something. I know I need to take action. I’ve been sort of wandering around, and also looking at maps, trying to choose the place where I will live, where I will camp, where I will hide. I think I have picked a good place, but I need to explore it a bit and see. It has a bike path next to it, so it won’t seem at all unusual to see somebody coming out of there on a bike every day.

Why am I so hardcore primitive? I always have been, but nobody encouraged me. Then I read about Rick and was inspired to go as far to the extreme as I ever wanted to go. I have been thinking this way for years and years, but it was Rick who made me feel motivated to really do it right now. I don’t necessarily want to live a pure subsistence lifestyle, but I want to have some way of getting my own food without paying money for it – I want some kind of hunting/gathering method to supplement the things I buy from the store, and I would also like to have an area of land, which I wasn’t paying for, where I might keep something longer term, like a herd of animals, and some containers where I grew edible insects. I know that technically people own the property deep in the mountains, but do they ever go there and check up on it? You might keep a herd of goats out there and nobody would ever find out they were there, even though technically it was on somebody else’s property. It’s hard for them to enforce their property ownership.

And I am fascinated with the concept of objects that are made completely with local materials, for instance, a fur coat stitched together with thread made from sinew, instead of thread bought at the store. But I can’t explain why. It would actually be extremely inconvenient to make those types of products, unless you had a group of other people who were helping you to gather and produce them locally to make the process more efficient. But still it fascinates me.

So anyway, soon I’ll get my feet washed off and I’ll stop being so druggy and dopey. I will just have to keep on looking around for the place where I will stay. I will have to keep the tent hidden enough that nobody goes over and looks at it. It will be very small. There are no wild animals in that location, no bears for instance, so I don’t have to worry about anything except maybe small animals or deer once in a while. (There are actually a few black bears in the local woods, but they are in specific places, and everybody knows exactly where they are!)

Actually, now that I’m talking about bears, I remember a bear attack that happened when I lived at the duckpond house. The landlord kept his rabbits in these horrible cages with nothing underneath them, where the cold wind blew through the cages – I hated the way he treated his rabbits. The bear came out of the woods, and it was a surprisingly small area of woods that it was wandering around in, and it ripped open some of the rabbit cages, killed some rabbits, and killed one of the free-roaming turkeys that he had on the property too. We didn’t see it – it happened in the middle of the night. So technically, yes, there could theoretically be a bear somewhere around that area. This was in a small town area, and the patches of woods were very small there, so it was amazing that a bear was there. We believed that it had wandered from a place farther away, up on the mountain, where there’s a lot more space and a lot more woods.

Yes, I really am going to do this crazy idea. I’m going to camp on the ground in a small wooded area and I’m going to ride my bike out of there to work every day. There have been other homeless people who have camped nearby and ridden their bikes around. One of them was an old guy who, if I recall, called himself Sarge. They said that he was very wealthy, but he was choosing to be homeless. That’s interesting because it sounds like myself. They said that he used to be a professor. He must have died, because I haven’t seen him in years and years. He was quite old. If he were alive, maybe I’d talk to him and ask him how he was doing it.

Homeless females, though, are unusual. I haven’t seen any around here that are actually completely homeless. Females live at the shelter, which is a luxurious place of easy living – I went there once because of the mold fumes in my apartment which made it so that I couldn’t breathe when I was in there.

There are people who just choose to be homeless, forever, and… I don’t like to say this. There isn’t a nice way to say it. They do it because they can. They do it because they are allowed to get away with it. There are some people who are ‘living off the system,’ taking money from the government, living at the shelters, having a free, easy, comfortable, safe life, getting all the food they want, although the food isn’t what I would call healthy – it’s mainstream food and includes things like white bread sandwiches with processed lunch meat, and apples (ugh!) as their fruit, and that kind of thing – it’s ‘ignorant people’s food’ or ‘uneducated people’s food.’ It’s all that familiar American processed food that has no nutritional value. Iceberg lettuce from fertilizer-pesticide-herbicide farms that add nothing to the soil except potassium, nitrogen, and phosphorus, as though all those other trace minerals are unimportant.

Anyway, the people at the homeless shelter can stay as long as they want to stay there, and they can eat as much of the ignorant people’s food as they want to eat. So that is where the *female* homeless people live. We don’t have female homeless people living in a tent in the woods around here. I will be the only one.

I guess I should think about getting ready for work now.

I don’t know how to explain why I don’t want to accept help. Every now and then, people are offering to let me live with them. There is a gay male priest at McDonald’s who talked to me and was concerned when I told him I was living in my car, and he offered to let me stay with him. Obviously, he isn’t a sexual threat to me, and I wouldn’t have to worry about ‘strings attached,’ and I actually like him a lot, but for some unknown reason, I automatically don’t want to accept his offer. For some unexplainable reason, I *want* to live out in the woods in my own tent that I made by myself, and I don’t view that as a failure or a negative situation that I need help with. I view it as a challenge and a success and something I did on my own.

Oh, speaking of ‘strings attached,’ I watched ‘The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo.’ If you didn’t hate men before you saw that movie, you will hate men after seeing it. When I walked out of the theatre, there was a guy who walked outside at the same time I did, and I was sort of fondling my car keys in my hands, and he looked down at them fearfully as though they might be a weapon that I was about to stab him with. (If I were being attacked, I would, in reality, attempt to stab someone with my car keys, so, actually, that wasn’t too far-fetched.) If you want to refresh your faith in men, go read Warren Farrell’s books again. I haven’t read those books in years. That was from back in the time period in my life when I could read books that didn’t directly pertain to my increasing my income.

Time for work. I got nothing useful done today. I did a little shopping to compensate for a drug residue outbreak (shoes) and I took my Flagyl and I drove around and walked around looking at places where I might live, but nothing useful was done and nothing was decided. I placed an order for new work shoes, real ones, good ones, but still that doesn’t count as something that progresses my life. I want to say that I did things that made progress towards my goals, but I did not do anything like that today, not really. I guess ‘searching for a home’ kind of counts.

The rotten old mink coat

December 28, 2011


I decided to try on the forty-year old rotten mink coat that somebody gave to my mom, which she gave to me when I was in West Virginia. I decided that when I was trying to take a walk to look for the place where I might camp, and I was freezing even though I had a bunch of layers of clothing on. I’m having a bad reaction to my shoes – they’re still wet – and so I’m more suggestible than usual, and that also means I’m more willing to take risks. So I decided to put on the coat and see if it worked.  (I know, the one picture is really blurry.  It was a hasty, bad quality photo taken in dim light without a flash, and those usually are blurry on my camera.)  The coat is so rotten that it makes ripping, cracking noises if I move around too vigorously.  Mom sewed up a few big holes in it for me.

It works better than any manmade material. I read about the Arctic and Antarctic expeditions in these Time-Life Magazine books we had when I was a kid, and I remember that all the explorers noticed that no fabric, no matter how warm, came close to the warmth of fur. And fur is lightweight.

I was almost uncomfortably hot after putting it on. I had to remove several layers of clothing, because the coat is small enough that I can’t fit much underneath it, just one sweater. I look exactly like Hagrid wearing his horrible hairy suit in The Prisoner of Azkaban, but I couldn’t easily find any screenshots of it online and didn’t want to be bothered with looking for them.

I felt Mom’s drug residues on the neck of the coat as soon as it touched my neck.  She had tried it on somewhat recently too.  I felt the tickly sensation of her drugs going through my skin.  Ideally, I will have to get new furs that nobody has worn before, because everybody everywhere uses drugs.  I was thinking of putting up an ad asking for used old furs, but I won’t necessarily wear them on my skin.  I will use them for other purposes, such as insulating my tent.  I read a description of people in Siberia or Mongolia or somewhere.  A journalist had gone to visit them.  They gave him a tent within a tent.  The tents were made of skins or furs or something.  Then there was just a pile of fur to sleep on, and nothing else.  You were expected to just lie there without a blanket.  The tent-within-a-tent was so warm that it was perfectly comfortable.  So I could use furs as lining for my tent and as insulation for me to sleep on, on the cold ground.  I’m not expecting to be cold.  I will be able to make an effective tent.

It’s strange how my beliefs have come around, how they’ve developed over the years, how I found this particular pathway. Right now, I am ‘proud to be a carnivore.’ (Technically, we’re omnivores, but I want to emphasize the centrality of meat in the diet, its essentialness.) I am very gentle to animals and you wouldn’t believe that I would advocate killing them and eating them. I have never hunted, and I am planning to try it in the future so that I will understand the reality of it. I have heard other hunters talking. There was one guy who asked another guy if he had gotten any deer. The guy said, ‘Yeah, we got a few of them,’ in a sad voice. The sadness in his voice reminded me of someone else I knew who had been a farmer who had slaughtered cattle. They feel very sad about it, and they don’t relish the death, and they’re not, like, dancing on the grave of the animal and saying ‘HA HA! I GOT YOU!’ but instead, they see the death as a painful necessity.

There are several things that led me to the belief that it is okay to be a carnivore. I studied nutrition and learned that it’s difficult to get a nutritious vegetarian diet. That was my mainstream nutrition class that I took in college, and I read the same opinion in many various mainstream books. Then, I read Julian Simon, who explained that whenever people say it’s wasteful to produce meat instead of grains on a particular piece of land, when they say it’s environmentally inefficient, that is actually a misunderstanding. I won’t go into detail on the argument – his whole book is available online. Then, after that, I learned about the primitive people eating the diets described by Weston Price, and I became even more convinced that it’s natural to be a carnivore. I decided that in a way this was an acceptance of the reality of death, and an acceptance of my own mortality as well.

I also hate factory farms and I hate animal abuse, but I believe that killing animals does not have to be like that – there are more humane ways. Believing that it’s okay to kill and eat animals does not necessarily mean that I love factory farms.

I haven’t worn this coat in public before. I just wore it to the library right now. I’m a little bit afraid that somebody on the street might realize it’s real fur instead of fake fur, and they might throw paint at my coat or attack me or something. Animal rights advocates can be pretty violent. I hope they just decide it’s a really tacky looking fake fur coat that’s too overdone, or something, and too tasteless. They’ll think I just have really bad fashion sense, I hope.

I’m going to insert a picture here after I save this draft, so be patient and hope that it works.


December 27, 2011

I did actually buy some blue cheese. It’s raw whole milk and I think it said it was ‘cave aged.’ The stuff that I remember having before was actually cave aged Swiss, and I decided I didn’t want Swiss today because it was low-fat. I got the high-fat stuff instead. But that weird cave-aged Swiss was extremely toxic and I don’t know how anyone on earth is capable of eating it. It would probably work better for my purposes. I’m actually enjoying the blue cheese. I’m just biting into the block. I’ve eaten a whole bunch of it so far. I also went out and got my prescription for Flagyl, because I suspect that if moldy cheese was an effective treatment for diarrhea and other microbial infections, the whole world would already know about it. I suspect that the dose of penicillin is probably too low.

By the way, I’m having one of my reactions again, since my shoes have gotten wet. I got this cheap new pair of shoes from Wal-Mart, and I meant to use them as a replacement for the previous shoes which had gotten contaminated – these were my emergency shoes in case that happened. But it turns out that somehow the water gets right into these shoes – it actually soaks through somewhere on the bottom! I’m not even walking through puddles. So my new shoes are wet inside and out, and they are soaking some of the car-floor residue into my socks, but not enough to cause tachycardia.

After I’m out of the car, there won’t be any more car-floor drug residues and there won’t be any more of those mood swings.

Anyway, some of my ranting earlier today was drug induced, which explains why I was more anarchistic than usual.

You’ll see. Soon, I’ll be much more consistent.

I was having a ‘discussion’ with ‘them,’ I think today, about seeing Rick. I told them that Rick would respond with hatred and revulsion and that he would never agree to communicate with me even in person. He will always believe that my annoying behavior is a permanent part of who I am, and not something that was drug induced, nor something that was caused by my being a mind controlled slave of murderers. I am going to just take as much from him as I can, by learning about his lifestyle, learning how he does what he does, learning what he’s interested in, learning about how he earns his income, and whatever else I can learn from him that I need to know, and then I will have to leave him. He will never speak to me.

I just watched the new Sherlock Holmes movie. I’ve been spending a lot of money on movies lately. That was mostly because I was on vacation. I’m actually going to go see another one in a few minutes. I liked the Sherlock Holmes movie, although it wasn’t emotionally moving – it wasn’t really meant to be – and I couldn’t follow every little detail of what was going on. But I got the general idea.

Probably later tonight, I will take the Flagyl again. I haven’t decided when I’ll take the first dose. I don’t want the diarrhea to start up again. I was afraid of the electrolyte imbalance. I thought that I had read someplace that it was possible to drop dead suddenly from severe electrolyte imbalances. You think you’re okay, and then suddenly you drop dead, instantly. Your body doesn’t give you any kind of warning, saying ‘If you don’t get some more potassium in the next hour, I’m going to die.’ It just suddenly dies. I don’t remember where I read that, and I could be wrong. I just recall that severe electrolyte imbalances can be extremely dangerous. I think they can cause heart attacks or heart failure or something too. That was why I got so scared whenever I was having so much fluid loss.

It’s best that I learn about this now, because I would need to make sure it never happened when I was out hiking miles from civilization. It helps me take seriously the warnings not to drink the water without boiling it or putting chlorine in it first. It’s good that it happened while I was still at home and able to get the antibiotics for it right away. If I had been out hiking and had had to hike all the way home with life-threatening diarrhea then that would not be the best way to learn to take that warning seriously.

I wish that moldy cheese was able to cure microbial infections, but I have a feeling it can’t. I’m not really seriously testing it at this time. I’m semi-joking. But I really did buy a block of blue cheese and I’m really eating it. I would have to wait an entire day or so and I would have to keep eating lots of it in order to really test it. I’m nervous about waiting any longer before taking the Flagyl. ‘Real’ cheese really does contain Penicillium molds, and penicillin is an antibiotic, it’s just usually given at a much higher dose, more concentrated than this, more purified.

Rick would refuse to speak to me. I already know. I know ‘they’ will keep bombarding me with thoughts of him forever, the same way that they bombard me with music playing constantly in my head (which was the reason why I was wondering if ‘Touch’ would be re-listenable – the answer is no, I’m sick of hearing ‘Touch’ being replayed in my head a million million times forever – it’s not re-listenable). They never stop bombarding me, and so I won’t be able to just forget about him the way I would like to do. Instead I will continue being obsessed with someone who hates me and wants me dead. He thinks that I consciously chose to do all of the things that I did, as deliberate manipulation, and that I sought to accomplish something useful by doing so. I did not. It was something I was forced to do, and it was pure destruction, and nothing but. Just the destruction of something which could have been, at the very least, a simple friendship.

shut down storage units; got some money back; got some stuff in mail.

December 27, 2011

3:08 PM 12/27/2011

Today I closed down both storage units and I got a little bit of money back from them. I had actually paid ahead for next month because I was afraid, for some reason, that I would run out of money during my vacation and wouldn’t be able to afford to pay for them next month, and I was also afraid that I wouldn’t finish my project of completely emptying them out, so I expected that I might still have some stuff in them that would have to sit there next month. But instead, I got it all done, and I got them closed down and I got my money back.

I also got my passport in the mail today. It actually arrived a few days ago but I didn’t pick it up till now. I also got something else in the mail – cod liver oil. I’ve read about Weston Price diet people using this and I wanted to try it. I am not going to actually eat the pills. Instead, I am going to open up one of them, eat a tiny bit of it – or probably, I will just touch it first and see what happens when it’s absorbed through my skin – instead of eating the whole pill. People who have used it said that it comes back up for hours after you’ve eaten it. It ‘repeats,’ they say, like reflux. I don’t know what kinds of reactions it will cause, so I’m going to be extremely cautious with it. I just wanted to try it to find out whether it was even a tiny bit edible or not, and whether it had any beneficial effects at all, no matter how small.

The diarrhea went away for about two days, but it’s showing signs of coming back, because I only took one Flagyl when I was at the hospital, and haven’t filled out my prescription yet. Since it’s showing signs of coming back, I’m going to go to the pharmacy and get the prescription.

I’d like to test what happens if you eat moldy cheese instead of taking antibiotics, but first, I’m going to get the antibiotics because they work. There are cheeses that are really horribly toxic and barely edible – I’ve tried one of them – I wondered if I might be having an allergic reaction or something – it was, like, raw sheep’s milk cheese imported from somewhere in Europe, and made with some bizarre and horrible mold that tasted toxic. So I’m wondering if that kind of horrible mold is able to act as an antibiotic. But, like I said, I’m getting the pills first. I’ll do that today.

I’m looking on a map trying to choose where my temporary home will be. I need to be able to get to work on my bicycle.

I am becoming more and more enthusiastic about liberating myself from wage slavery by drastically, extremely cutting living expenses and by making extreme lifestyle changes. It’s laughable that some people try to save money by using two sheets of toilet paper instead of three, while I am spending hundreds of dollars less by not living in an apartment.

Increasing the income comes later. I’ve always tried that method in the past, and in order to increase your income, you have to do projects and invest in things and spend a lot of time. All those projects failed because I am being controlled and ‘they’ don’t know how to do a sustainable project that is realistic for me.

It is easier and more effective to begin with the drastic and extreme expense cuts and lifestyle changes, and then, after you’ve stopped spending huge amounts of money, then you can work *fewer hours* if necessary so that you can focus on your projects. How can you do a project of, for instance, learning and studying something with the hopes of increasing your income, if you are already spending huge amounts of money so that you must work a huge number of hours? You can only do it if you use more stimulant drugs and antidepressants, which is what the majority of people are doing. It’s best to start by working fewer hours, now that you no longer have big expenses, and work on your projects of studying and whatever else needs to be done in order to increase your income.

There is subsistence living – there is no such thing as absolute, pure subsistence any more than there is any such thing as pure anarchy – it’s impossible to live without saving at least some tiny little bit of something for the short-term future, even if all you’ve saved is a little bit of firewood for the next couple days, or a little bit of food for later this evening.

But anyway, there is subsistence living, and if you choose subsistence living, you cannot save wealth for the next generation, and you cannot save for yourself later on; however, the government does not steal from you if you live a subsistence lifestyle and don’t use the money system. However, you’re still at risk of being attacked by the government because you live on their physical land. ‘The government’ is the name for a hostile tribe of aggressive people who have taken control of every single square inch of the entire planet, and this hostile tribe’s rules differ from place to place. They initiate attacks upon innocent people and steal their money from them.

You can also choose to ‘save’ money, which requires you to choose some physical form that you will save the money in. You can also choose to ‘invest’ money, which means that you don’t just save money and keep it for yourself, but instead, you spend the money to build something that will perhaps generate income. Both of those lifestyles are very vulnerable to the parasites and the theft from the hostile tribe. Using the money system, saving, and investing all make you vulnerable to becoming a government slave.

So I’m still thinking about my long-term plans and how much slavery I will tolerate in my life. I find it somewhat depressing to imagine a pure subsistence hunting-gathering lifestyle for myself and for my children, forever, without the slightest ability to save wealth for later or invest it to make improvements in the quality of life. Ideally I would want to trade in an underground economy instead of in the government slavery system. I would use some form of money that my underground network was using.

It’s been pouring rain all day, and it’s always hard for me to do things when it’s pouring rain all day, but at least it’s not snowing. I haven’t had to deal with any major snowstorms yet. There was a mild one earlier and it didn’t block the roads for long. It’s been amazingly warm all this time and so I haven’t experienced the bitter cold of January and February yet in my car. I do recall, however, that a couple years ago, I slept in my car in the bitter cold of winter because that very same bitter cold triggered the black mold in my apartment to start expelling even more toxic clouds of poison than usual, and the air was so bad that I couldn’t sleep in the apartment. I wrote blogs about it. Back then, I mistakenly thought it was carbon monoxide fumes that I was experiencing in my apartment, but it turned out to be black mold fumes. So I’ve slept in the bitter cold before, just not quite so much as I will be doing this year.

Anyway, I’m looking on the maps, and driving around my target location, looking for the place where I will camp. I’ll be riding a bike to work from there. I’ll be hidden from people. I’ll still need to make some major expense cuts – for instance, I’d like to hire someone to cook my food at their home, and I would get better quality food. The price might actually cost more, but it will be less relative to the increase in quality. I will be able to choose which foods I want to eat instead of being forced to eat fast foods and restaurant foods.

Then I will need to keep working for a while, after I’ve made my expense cuts, and I’ll save money. I might get a second job temporarily. I don’t know how much money I will save for how long or what I will do with it. Eventually I will need to do something to increase my income, and I would like to get a so-called ‘passive income’ even though technically no income is ever totally passive – it requires some kind of maintenance and management and actions taken. But still, I want some kind of semi-passive income. I want to prepare myself so that I will be able to support my children.

almost done fixing this problem

December 25, 2011

I only took one dose of Flagyl so far, when I was at the hospital, and it already seemed to have greatly reduced the diarrhea, although I’m not absolutely sure yet. It hasn’t even been 24 hours yet, and I will have to see what happens. I haven’t decided yet whether I will go fill the prescription tomorrow. I probably won’t get the potassium pill prescription, because I’m no longer feeling like it’s as much of an emergency. But I will find out soon enough whether it has really improved. If the diarrhea improves then I wouldn’t even need to take potassium pills. I tolerate the Flagyl amazingly well. In the past, I’ve had allergic reactions to antibiotics, and they’ve also upset my stomach horribly so that I was unbearably nauseated and vomiting. I was only a tiny bit sickened by it for a few hours, and didn’t notice any weird symptoms from it. If I recall, it’s sold over-the-counter in Mexico or someplace, and I remember looking it up online because my ex-boyfriend and I once had a virus with extremely severe diarrhea and I was wondering if we had something that wasn’t a virus, and I found out about Giardia and Flagyl while I was researching.

Hopefully tomorrow I will feel well enough that I can… do whatever it is that I need to do. I need to close down the storage units, and I need to clean myself up, and I need to make plans and preparations and decisions about what I am going to do in the future.

It is extremely annoying to have these persistent beliefs that won’t go away – for example I keep on believing that Rick is secretly reading my blog and he just won’t admit that he’s doing it and he’s told me several times that he doesn’t. I can’t tell how many of these beliefs come from ‘them’ versus how many of them might be genuine beliefs of my own. I know that it’s strongly affected by the drug residues, and that is the main thing that I have to fix right now, and fix it completely so that it stops affecting me. Then I will be able to understand better how I actually feel and what I actually believe. I still will have difficulty knowing what I want, because of the attacks which will still continue even though I’ve gotten rid of the residues – they attack me most strongly whenever I attempt to make plans and decisions by myself instead of doing what they force me to do, instead of following whatever plan they force me to follow, whatever plan they ‘approve of’ after ‘consulting’ with me about it.

Anyway, I just got back from work, and I don’t feel like I’m going to have any more unusual digestive incidents at this time, and everything already feels somewhat different and almost normal.

I haven’t yet accepted the reality of the fact that I really did just accomplish a huge phase of my goals. I really don’t have anything sitting in the storage unit anymore. You don’t understand how that felt. I have had the drug residues since 1996, which is inconceivable and incomprehensible to anybody who hasn’t experienced an herbal drug contamination incident. All this time, in the back of my head, I knew that I had all this contaminated stuff sitting around someplace which would have to be ‘dealt with’ someday by somebody. It was this big thing that prevented me from doing, or thinking about, or caring about, or focusing upon, anything or anybody else. It was something huge that I had to do, and it sat there all this time. (Technically, it wasn’t all in the storage unit all this time. I moved out of the first apartment in 2009, I think, and that’s when I put all my stuff in storage. So, two years in storage. But before that, it still needed to be sorted through and gotten rid of.)

The ‘inconceivable and incomprehensible’ thing – it really is. This experience is so esoteric and so far outside the experience of anyone I have ever known and anyone I have ever read about. It vaguely falls into the category of ‘environmental illness and chemical sensitivity,’ and there are people in that category who have vaguely similar experiences, but only vaguely. Nothing exactly like this, nothing I’ve ever seen.

So I still can’t comprehend that the biggest part of my burden is gone. There is only a little bit left to do. I don’t remember what it feels like to live a life without contamination. I have all these ‘rules’ which will no longer be needed, the ‘don’t touch this, don’t touch that’ rules. I think I’ll get used to it really quickly – whenever I visit my parents, for instance, I instantly stop worrying about whether I’m wearing shoes when I walk around the house, so it’s clear that I’m aware that ‘must wear shoes indoors’ is a situational rule that only applies at the contaminated apartment, and nowhere else, and I am easily able to forget that rule when I am outside that particular situation. I’m sure I will easily forget them all because I’m very specific about which situation the rules apply to. It isn’t any kind of ‘general phobia about touching things,’ which some people might mistakenly believe if they misunderstood my situation. That’s why I don’t like to call myself ‘chemical sensitive,’ because I am only sensitive to the particular group of chemicals that are located in a particular situation and which are not located elsewhere, and if I call myself chemical sensitive and then go happily spraying a bunch of bleach on the coffee pots that I’m washing at work (and having a conversation with somebody about how we both love the smell of this particular cleaner), people will respond by saying that I cannot possibly be chemical sensitive if I’m not showing the slightest reaction to all that bleach. There’s just no word for what I am. ‘Chemical sensitive’ is the closest phrase to it.

So I haven’t adjusted yet, mainly because I’m still in my car and the residue burden is not yet completely gone, and I can’t trust myself to even try to talk to Rick or anybody else without being at risk of manic behavior. I will still have other problems, but extreme mood swings will not be a problem anymore. I’m just trying to get this into my head so that I can understand it: I am almost done fixing this problem.

It’s going to be a rough week.

December 25, 2011

I didn’t just catch a cold when I went to West Virginia. I also drank from the creek. I can’t argue at this moment whether or not I did it of my own free will, and I’m not in the mood to argue about it. Anyway, I still have extremely severe diarrhea even now, today, which started on Tuesday, and hasn’t gotten any better even though my ‘cold’ got better. And I felt weird today, a sensation in my head, not ‘light’ headed per se, just a weird head feeling. So, this evening, after having an extremely horrible incident of diarrhea again, I finally went to the emergency room, as I had the weird head feeling and I was now shivering.

They found out that my potassium was at 3 when it’s supposed to be between 3.5 and 5. So they gave me potassium and they gave me an IV drip to give me back some fluids I’ve lost. I told them I suspected that I might have caught something from the creek and gotten a cold around the same time, and at first I had thought it was only the cold, but the diarrhea was so severe it seemed strange, and the doctor agreed that maybe I did catch something from the creek, so I’ll be taking potassium and also Flagyl (I don’t know how to spell it yet) in case I have Giardia. Usually I have horrible reactions to drugs, so I’m not sure how I’ll do with the Flagyl, but I will try. I didn’t feel as lightheaded after getting the IV drip and the potassium.

It just kept going on and on for days and it didn’t get better. I’ve been able to eat without vomiting, but the diarrhea was horrible and just kept going. And I won’t argue about whose fault it was and whether it had anything to do with my being controlled or hearing voices or anything, because yeah, that constantly affects all of the actions I take every day, so it’s very likely that ‘they’ are connected with this.

I know that in the past, I knew which streams we had decided were safe to drink from, in WV. They were the very small ones that came freshly out of the springs just behind our house. I’ve had the water from them several times in the past, although it’s true that I didn’t go out there every day and drink it, but I had it often enough to know that it never gave me diarrhea. However, when I visited this time, I drank more water than usual, and I drank it from ‘unknown’ streams in farther away places, and they were much larger streams, not just tiny springs in our backyard. So those larger streams had more of a chance to get contaminated with something.

I don’t have enough battery left to write a lot tonight.

I guess it’s Christmas. I was hearing a Christmas church thing on the radio at work, and the singing was beautiful, and when the preacher guy was talking, I had the urge to laugh, because he had to sing this one section of it, a singing talking voice, and it was somehow beautiful but also funny at the same time. I haven’t gone to church in a very long time. I’ve forgotten. That would be something Rick would know that I wouldn’t know – he knows Christianity, and so does his wife. So I can’t ‘get the jokes’ as easily as she does if he makes bible-based jokes or quotes something.

Yeah, every topic always goes back to him. For now, until I fix this.

I’m typing in the QuickPress box, so I don’t know how this looks.

I’m expecting that this antibiotic will be horrible and intolerable like every other one I’ve ever taken. Antibiotics are just horribly poisonous in every possible way. That’s why I’m expecting a rough week. I don’t know how long the diarrhea would take to go away on its own, but I got scared by the weird head feeling, so it was time to do something about it tonight.

I won’t argue about whether ‘they’ made me do it or not. It’s useless to argue about it. I can’t solve that problem yet.

Haha! There’s …

December 24, 2011

Haha! There’s a scenario where it all happens again, but this time, she’s wearing these really simple little shoes without high heels, and she never trips and falls on the guy and she never spills the coffee and so the other guy never walks into her party! How sad!  I love it that she replayed it with a new scenario.  I have to watch the video again.

Oh my god, it’s a good video too

December 24, 2011

joyful – the whole song and the video are joyful

I’ll probably get sick of it, though – I’m not sure whether it’s re-listenable or not, and I don’t have time to listen to it deeply right now because I’m getting ready for work. I have a feeling that it might not be something I could stand to hear a thousand thousand times. Not sure.

Natasha Bedingfield – ‘Touch’

December 24, 2011

Edit: Oops, it’s Bedingfield, not Bedingford as I originally wrote.

I’m at McDonald’s using the wifi, and I heard this song playing overhead.  She began by singing in a monotone, like a rap, but unlike all the other horrible songs, it did not stay on the monotone forever.  She stayed on the monotone long enough that I got used to it, and I started to assume it was just another soulless, brainless, rap song that would be on the same note for the rest of eternity.  But I had this ‘feeling’ about the song, and something about it caught my attention – I don’t know what – and I found myself listening intently to see what she would do, where she would go with it.  It was something about the beat.  The beat was somehow too fast and hopeful to be a rap song.  It wasn’t a big, pounding bass that drowns out everything else.  The beat was in the background, de-emphasized somewhat, which suggested that the melody might be important – that there might actually BE a melody, unlike a rap song.

Then after being on the same note for just a little bit of a long time, building up energy on that note, she then went up an interval and sang there briefly.  And at that moment it seemed as though maybe this was going to be a two-pitch rap song which goes between Note 1 and Note 2, and nothing else.  So I got used to hearing Note 1 and Note 2.

But then she went up to Note 3, and then went up higher and higher, and I thought she was done, but she went up again.  The melody went to higher and higher pitches in exactly the right way to be surprising and to be better than what came before it.  It was a good melody.  I want to hear it again.  I’d buy it, except I hate buying CDs and I don’t want to be bothered with all the hassle of other ways of buying music right now.

This stuff is important for writing melodies.  I love, so much, William Russo’s book, ‘Composing Music – A New Approach.’  He explains about the highest pitch in the song, and how if you put it in the wrong place, it will make your song feel weak and you won’t know why.  He explained everything that I had ever intuitively felt was wrong with the melodies I disliked.  After learning the stuff in that book, you can, of course, move beyond it, and you don’t need to strictly obey the rules forever.

I was tryin’ to cross the street
When I tripped and spilled my coffee
On a man who yelled at me
And then walked off in a hurry
Now he’s gonna be late for work
So he called his secretary
Said to cancel his appointment with the guy in the lobby

Who’s been waiting for a while
And talking on the phone
Got invited to a party and thought he couldn’t go
But he’s here right now
Standing in my house
And someone turns the music loud

So we dance
And we laugh
And we touch (touch touch)

Yeah we dance
And we laugh
And we touch (touch touch)

Gonna party all night till the sun comes up
Cuz it feels like the world dissapears around us

When we dance
When we laugh
When we touch

I was planning out my party
Running errands ’round the city
Grocery bags full of alcohol
And chocolate chip cookies
Saw a dress that was amazing
In the window of a boutique
So I went across the street
Then my heel broke and it threw me
I tried to catch my balance
But I was supposed to fall
It seems that spilling coffee
Was no accident at all
Cuz you’re here right now
Sitting on my couch
Funny how it all works out

So we dance
And we laugh
And we touch (touch touch)

Yeah we dance
And we laugh
And we touch (touch touch)

Gonna party all night till the sun comes up
Cuz it feels like the world dissapears around us

When we dance
When we laugh
When we touch

Every choice we make
And every road we take
Every interaction
Starts a chain reaction
We’re both affected
When we least expect it
And then when we touched
And it all connected
Every choice we make
And every road we take
Every interaction
Starts a chain reaction
We’re both affected when we least expect it
And then when we…

When we dance
And we laugh
And we touch (touch touch)

Yeah we dance
And we laugh
And we touch (touch touch)

Gonna party all night till the sun comes up
Cuz it feels like the world dissapears around us

When we dance
When we laugh
When we touch

Ooo oo oo ooo
We touch

Ooo oo oo ooo
We touch

Ooo oo oo ooo
We touch

Ooo oo oo ooo
We touch

too much blogging; the evolution of this blog; writing for an audience for profit

December 23, 2011

Oh, and by the way, very soon I will be doing another ‘Go Without Blogging For A While’ challenge, but I might start that next week after I get settled in again.

I want to write for profit, not just for venting. If I write for profit, it means that I write towards the audience. I would think about who is reading and what they need to read.

My blog has changed over time. I first began blogging on MySpace. It was a ‘General Audiences’ blog meant to be read by my friends and family, people who knew me, so it was heavily censored – I didn’t actually talk about anything that was really going on in my life and I didn’t actually tell the truth about my thoughts and feelings and opinions. I didn’t say anything that was scary or overwhelming to anyone.

The blog didn’t just start out in the Retmeishka style from the beginning. This blog is almost pure, unedited venting, although there is just a little tiny bit of censorship in it.

I eventually went to the eagledove9 blog at, and I wrote a slightly less censored blog, but it was still meant to be read by a general audience, and I still was conscious of what an audience of ‘normal people’ would approve and disapprove of.

After ‘hearing voices’ that were urging me to write a less and less censored blog, I made this one, and in the beginning, they forced me to talk about subjects which were actually too extreme even for me – not just in the beginning, but at various periods of time when I’ve been severely contaminated and highly suggestible and compliant with what they force me to do. So, for instance, I’ve talked about pedophilia and hebephilia, which actually are not big issues for me personally, but which ‘they’ wanted me to confront openly in my blog. The only thing I can say is that, according to what I’ve read, the bonobo apes have sexual interactions with each other at all ages, all the way down to infancy. I don’t know how this could be adapted to humans. And, as I said, this isn’t ‘my’ issue, it was someone else’s issue and they wanted me to be the person who would write about it on their behalf, and I did. But I am not preoccupied with that issue or focused on it all the time. So that wasn’t really the result of ‘lack of censorship,’ it was actually the result of being a puppet who was forced to talk about things they wanted me to talk about.

In reality, I am severely censored merely by being a mind control victim. I am constantly zapped with attacks that prevent my mind from thinking particular thoughts or from using particular mental functions, especially visual ones. I am forced to use only verbal thought processes, which are extremely inefficient and unintelligent. I can’t use my brain the way I used to be able to because of the attacks. So in that respect I am constantly censored, and even this ‘uncensored’ blog is not able to tell the truth. I am not doing what I would do if I were free.

But in the future, I want to write deliberately for an audience, with the purpose of earning money from it. That means that I won’t waste their time boring them with repetitive stuff or with my constant expressions of misery and dissatisfaction. It’s possible to condense everything into a much smaller bunch of principles and concepts that will be reworded in ways to convey information more efficiently. I would have an actual ‘main idea’ in everything I wrote.

Earning money by writing is not an easy thing. I have looked at Rick’s websites, the pages that he earns a large amount of money from, and I’ve wondered how he does it. He earns money not merely because he has ads on the pages, but because those websites are partnered with other businesses and affiliates who are paying him because he advertises for booking hotels in Ukraine and that kind of thing. It is an actual business, not just writing web pages and getting paid for ad clicks. And the ads that they do have are very specifically targeted for what the audience wants most when they decide to visit Ukraine: Prostitutes. People who go to Ukraine are going there to find the prostitutes. That’s just about the only reason why anybody ever wants to go there. So they’re likely to click on those ads and go to those websites and the ads are effective and they get a lot of clicks and he gets paid for that.

I’ve read elsewhere about people who tried to make money by building websites with ads on them, and they might make a couple pennies per year on their ad clicks. That’s because they’re not pimping prostitutes and booking hotels to go meet your prostitutes in. That’s a very lucrative business. Nothing else is all that profitable.

So I have to find something that is profitable that I can put on a web page and that I can get partners and affiliates to work with me on. I’ve always been interested in ‘niche markets,’ and I have always felt an intense, instinctive aversion to anything that was mainstream, whenever I’ve imagined starting my own business. If a million other people are doing it, then I instinctively want to avoid doing it, while other people are instinctively drawn to it for that very same reason: ‘Hey! A million other people are growing CORN on their farmland! I think I’ll do the same thing!’ And if I were a farmer, I’d say ‘A million other people are growing corn on their farmland, so I will grow Thai Eggplants instead.’ I always want to go out and find the new vegetables from different parts of the world. I won’t be planting corn and tomatoes and green peppers and all the familiar American vegetables. I want new ones. This is an intense, permanent, instinctive aversion that I feel, deeply programmed into who I am – I very strongly and automatically resist doing something if I know that a billion other people are doing exactly that same thing.

Niche websites are recommended whenever you want to make money doing something on the net. If you are doing what a billion other people are doing, then you will be the billionth result in a google search. If you are doing something that perhaps one, or two, or zero other people are doing, then you will be the first result or in the top ten.

I have a LOT of ‘niche’ interests. In fact, almost everything I do, everything about me, everything that I like and dislike, is ‘niche’ to the extreme. Like I said, I am strongly programmed to seek out those things deliberately. So I’m interested in weird diets like the Weston Price diet, and I like men and women who don’t shave any hair from their bodies, and don’t cut the hair on their heads, and so on and so forth. These things can somehow be used to make money. And I have an esoteric, completely unknown piece of knowledge, which is not only unknown, but also unvalued and unsought-after – nobody knows it exists, and nobody knows it’s worth looking for – the knowledge of the transdermal drug residues. That knowledge is of enormous importance, and it is also something which has an enormous and terrible impact on society. Somewhere, somebody wants something that has to do with this. Perhaps the Chinese already know about ephedra residue. It’s likely that people in South America know about residues too. I was reading something on a web page recently that sort of suggested this, but I would need to do more research. Learning other languages helps you open up to the markets around the world that need you, if you can’t sell something to your American market.

I want a ‘passive’ income too. I have always wanted that, as soon as I read ‘Your Money Or Your Life,’ as soon as I read anything at all about changing how you earn your money, escaping from the slave jobs, and all that. Rick’s income isn’t totally ‘passive,’ it’s an actual *business*. And he had to hire somebody to operate the business. I understand it all better now. It’s not merely a web pages that earns money from ad clicks. It’s a business that is complex enough that it requires help from more than one person, and even after hiring someone, it’s still profitable for the owner. I want to earn all of my income from passive income. It will take a few years of building my businesses to do it. I’m just remembering the concept that you’re not just making a website where you hope to make more than a few pennies a year from people clicking on ads. It has to be a business that would work in ‘real life.’ If it wouldn’t work in ‘real life,’ then it’s not a real business and it won’t work on the net either. Rick has a real-life business and the web page is only a small part of that business, and there are real people providing real services in the background behind the web page.

Rick doesn’t read my blog. I’m sure he’d get all pissed off because I described his website as ‘pimping prostitutes’ and booking hotels where you can meet them. But oh well, I don’t exist.

Awful clothing; a regrettable gift incident; fur skins

December 23, 2011

10:54 AM 12/23/2011

I had a stupid, regrettable gift-giving incident that should not have happened. When I left West Virginia, I took with me a whole bunch of used clothes that Mom gave to me, without thinking about it. Here is why that happened.

Mom knows that I have thrown away a lot of clothes and that I get new clothes at Goodwill. When I came there I was wearing dirty clothes that hadn’t been washed for a long time, and Mom could probably smell them, which was why she started giving me a bunch of waterless-wash lotion type things.

I borrowed a shirt and pants and socks and underwear while my clothes were being washed. That was how it began. It was fine for me to just borrow that one single group of clothing, just that shirt/pants outfit. But she decided that I ‘needed clothes’ and so she gave me these huge piles of used clothes on the desk in the room where I was sleeping.

I should have tried them on and sorted through them. However, I was focused on sorting through the belongings that I was putting into storage, and I didn’t work on the computer and electronic stuff until the very day when I was leaving, that morning. So I had been focused on nothing but that, and couldn’t be bothered to try on a bunch of clothes. I didn’t even think about it at all. I just mindlessly shoved all the huge stacks of clothes into a bunch of big garbage bags and put them into my car.

They were so huge that they were blocking my view of the windows, and blocking my seat from reclining. I sleep in the front seat because I have to – for various reasons, I can’t sleep in the trunk area right now, although that would probably be more comfortable. So I have to recline the seat, and so there can’t be three or four huge garbage bags full of clothing behind my seat blocking it from reclining.

I am finally slightly healthier, although I am still having horrible digestive problems, but I haven’t vomited today. So I’m well enough that I was finally able to start sorting through some of the stuff taking up space in my car.

I discovered that I had taken with me quite a few pairs of denim jeans. Since I hadn’t looked at anything or tried anything on, I hadn’t been able to inform her that I absolutely loathe denim jeans and that I have never worn denim jeans ever again ever since I began buying my own clothes for myself. They are hard, stiff, and unbending. They usually feel too tight, even when they are cut very loosely. The fabric makes a high-pitched screeching noise, like fingernails on a chalkboard, when I run my hands across it, or when I touch anything against the jeans at all, anytime that I’m wearing them. Denim is an unbearable, intolerable fabric to me, and I hate it, and I absolutely never wear it.

So I pulled out the denim jeans, and, regretfully, threw them into the trash today. That shouldn’t have happened, but I wasn’t able to think about anything else when I was in WV, anything except sorting through the last of my stuff and getting it compacted and put into storage.

This is what I mean when I say that I have rules and criteria that other people aren’t aware of. Who knew that I absolutely loathe denim? Who knew that I’m able to hear a high-pitched screeching noise when I slide my hands across the fabric? (I had my hearing tested by a doctor, and it has been proven that I really am able to hear extremely high-pitched noises that humans are not supposed to hear. I believe this is because my ear canals are deformed along with my jaw being deformed. I actually have difficulties hearing some of the frequencies needed for understanding speech.) Who knew that I felt that denim was always too stiff and unbending and hard? I didn’t bother telling anybody any of those things because I wasn’t planning on making other people buy gifts for me. If I wanted people to buy me gifts, then I would go around constantly telling them all about what I like and dislike. But I didn’t do that. So when Mom dumped a bunch of gifts on me, a bunch of used clothing, then it turned out to be a disaster. And I agreed with the principle of it, too, which was why I just grabbed the clothes and took them along with me. I was like ‘Yeah! I always need clothes! These will be useful!’

But in reality, I haven’t been going through as many clothes lately as I was in the past. Since I moved out of the contaminated apartment, the first place where I handled the herbs, I haven’t been having as many incidents. And since I moved out of the second apartment, which had some residue tracked into it, inevitably, even though I tried to prevent it from happening, I have had even fewer major incidents. It’s mostly just things like my socks. So in reality I don’t go through huge amounts of clothing anymore. I was remembering the past when I believed that ‘yeah! I can always use some extra clothing!’ I never should have grabbed those piles of clothes, but I did.

I regretted throwing them away, but I don’t see myself taking them to Goodwill. I just need to make some room right now so that I can recline my seat and so that I can see out the back windows when I drive. I really hate throwing away things that people give me, but I don’t want to wait several more days until I’m off work and I’m able to go to Goodwill. I don’t want to to go through the hassle of putting them somewhere until then. I could have used the storage unit, which I haven’t closed down yet. But I am in a hurry. The only thing I can do is the thing that requires the least amount of effort.

I don’t enjoy throwing away gifts. It is extremely painful for me. That is why it usually ends up making me become very, very angry.

And I’ve so often let my own rule be violated. I used to try harder, in the past, to force people to obey my rules. I was stricter. Now, I’ve been letting people give me gifts in the past few years – I’ve been lenient – I haven’t bothered trying to fight them – and the gifts have all inevitably been dumped into the trash, for one reason and another – and I realize that the residue was the main reason why I’ve gotten rid of everything, but even before that happened, I had been reading about recommendations to get rid of all your clutter, and I strongly liked the idea and had been planning to do it. The toxic drug residue just gave me a life-or-death urgent reason to do it immediately instead of postponing it until a convenient time.

I found another gift this morning. It was from the aunt who gives me her painstakingly handcrafted items made just for me. It was this utterly hideous, horrible hat and scarf. If somebody had gone out and researched the exact list of every single thing that I hate most on this earth, and deliberately handcrafted an item that met every single one of those criteria, it would look like this.

It was made from horrible yarn, some kind of synthetic, polyester, acrylic, whatever it is, some horrible, scratchy, screechy, screaming, high-pitched-noise inducing fiber. I only wear natural fibers like cotton. It was the type of fiber that gets staticky so that your hair sticks to it and every piece of lint sticks to it forever. It was hand knitted (or else machine knitted in such a way as to resemble something hand knitted) with big, large, wide-spaced stitches that had big holes in between them where the ice cold air blows through, making it impractical for the purpose of keeping warm. How are you supposed to keep warm when you’re wearing a knitted fabric with huge holes in between all the stitches that the wind is blowing through??? So it was ‘purely decorative’ instead of useful. But it wasn’t decorative either. It was absolutely hideous to look at. It was brown and white, the exact color of brown that I hate, and I love earth tones and I like various shades of brown, but somehow she magically picked the worst possible shade of brown. It was brown and white striped, and I absolutely hate stripes and I will never wear anything that has a striped pattern on it. In fact, I avoid almost all ‘patterns’ and I try to choose clothes that are just one solid color with no images on my shirts.

I’m serious when I say that it’s as if she looked up my entire list of every single thing that I hate about clothing, and deliberately made me something that met every single one of those criteria.

I liked reading Rick’s opinions about clothing meant for backpackers. The clothes and other objects supposedly meant for hikers are not actually usable. Their designs are so wrong in so many ways. They are marketed as being ‘for hikers’ but they are not actually useful when you get out there.

I’ve had so many times when I’ve bought a coat – and coats are the worst – where, for example, I can’t use the pockets to put my hands in. The pockets are unlined, so if I put my hands in there, they’re cold. Or the pockets are in a weird position – I had this one coat where the pockets were wayyyy up high so that you were sort of grabbing your own boobs if you put your hands in your pockets. Supposedly, that had something to do with skiing, but since I wasn’t skiing, that ‘feature’ was a ‘bug’ instead of a ‘feature.’ I hate pockets that can’t be zipped shut – if you can only snap them or button them shut, then you can’t put money or anything important in there. Sometimes the pockets are leaning at the wrong angle so that everything dumps out of your pocket. Sometimes the pockets are so shallow that the same thing happens, everything dumps out. I recently had a pair of pants that did that. How can these clothing designers be so stupid and so indifferent about what’s practical and useful? Men’s clothing is usually much better than women’s clothing, but apparently, according to Rick, it still isn’t that great if you’re trying to get clothes designed for hiking.

I already know exactly what I will wear, after the contamination is gone, after I no longer have to throw away contaminated clothing, after my clothing is no longer at risk of being ruined by toxic substances that I have a reaction to. I am going to buy fur skins. I will wear one layer of fur facing outwards, and one layer of fur facing inwards. I will wear soft sole leather moccasins. Everything will be fur and skin. I will try that and see how it is. I expect it to be warm. That’s my real clothes.

I’ve got a fur coat, but it’s badly designed and impractical, almost useless. I got it from Mom in WV. She had received this coat from someone else who gave it away. She said it’s like 40 years old. I told her I would be very careful with it and I would protect it and not let it get ruined. I tried it on. The sleeves are too tight at the armpits, so if you raise your arms, it raises the entire top of the shoulder in a stiff way, and the entire coat gets lifted up along with your arms, and the shoulders are big and they stick out like you’re wearing shoulder pads. You just can’t raise your arms. It wasn’t meant to be worn in a situation where you are moving around at all – a purely decorative mink coat. Still, I will use it, and I might modify it, and keep the fur. It doesn’t have a hood, because it wasn’t meant to actually keep someone warm. It was meant to be worn to a party, so that you can say ‘I have a fur coat! I’m rich!’

When I wear a fur coat, it means: I am a survivor. I am a carnivore and a hunter. I am practical and strong. I wear the most useful and the most effective of all possible fabrics. Fur is the warmest fabric ever created, and it’s warmer than the warmest manmade fabric. I choose only the best, and I choose only the most practical solutions to my problems.

Only after the residue is gone. Fur is too expensive to risk getting contaminated. I don’t like to throw in the garbage something that came from the body of an animal. I can tolerate throwing in the garbage the fibers that came from plants, but not the skins and furs of animals. I don’t like the idea of killing animals wastefully. Wasteful killing is the result of factory farming, and I’ve written before about the reasons why factory farming exists. I could write about it again, but I won’t be able to change it.

You know what else I hate, while I’m at it? I hate shirts and coats that end at the waist. I like things that go down to about mid-thigh at least. I’ve noticed this even more now that I’m wearing a whole bunch of layers of clothing. I have a coat on top of it, and it’s a Goodwill coat, and it’s not a very useful coat, just a thin badly designed jacket that I would never have bought if I had a real choice about clothing and if I weren’t likely to throw a lot of stuff away.

When something ends at the waist, and it has several layers on top of each other, and then something else with elastic around the waist especially, then it all clumps together and rises up, leaving a big, exposed area of skin that the cold wind blows on. You have to be constantly pulling down and readjusting your shirts because they are constantly pulling up off the waist. I hate that. That is so stupid.

Shirts and coats should end at mid-thigh so that there is no chance at all that they could ever be pulled up above the waist even if there’s elastic, even if a bunch of shirts are layered and clumping together. If you want to have some kind of a belt that tightens around the waist area so that you’re not just wearing a sack-shaped outfit, that’s fine with me, but they shouldn’t end at the waist.

I refuse to tuck in any of my shirts. I *hate* tucked-in shirts. I shouldn’t HAVE to tuck in my shirts to compensate for the stupidity of the design. I could tuck in one or two of my t-shirts underneath the outer layers, but I won’t do that. The shirts and coats should just be long.

Do you see what I mean now when I say I have all these complex rules that nobody knows about? If somebody were to buy me a gift, I would have to give them this huge list of rules, only to discover afterwards that I had a bunch of rules that I had forgotten about, which they would have broken, which I only discovered after receiving the gift. I don’t know I hate something until after I’ve encountered it for the first time.

I was thinking about learning a language using the Meaningless Method. I really like that method and I’m curious to try it. I would be strictly forbidden to look up anything in the dictionary at all. My only task would be to become able to recreate the words out loud and in writing as accurately as possible, spelling every word correctly, becoming familiar with the words so that I could type them on a keyboard or write them by hand, and speaking them with the least possible American accent. I could spend a very long time learning this way. Babies don’t use dictionaries. So I wouldn’t either. I’d only look something up if I desperately needed it right that instant. I’d use a translator to choose which books to read, because I would read books that were in my subject areas of interest, and I would avoid books that were not in my areas of interest, because there is no point in learning to say a bunch of words that you will never need to use. It’s more important to learn the words that relate to things you actually will be saying, which means, an area of interest.

I like the novelty of this concept, the concept that you are strictly forbidden to look up the meanings of the words. If you happen to figure out what something means, good for you, but you’re not allowed to look it up.

You can only do it if you have a lot of time to learn the language. If you don’t need to say something tomorrow, then you can use the Meaningless Method of language acquisition. If you can afford to wait a few months before using the language, then the Meaningless Method will be a good way to start.

Memorizing words was what I liked the least about learning languages. I’ve studied Spanish and German in the past. It seemed artificial and unnatural, the whole way of learning the language. You are given a bunch of words that some authority figure has decided are the most important words for you to know. You ‘obviously’ need to learn the word ‘shoe’ before you learn the word ‘antidisestablishmentarianism,’ right? Of course. The authority figures said so. But I might enjoy reading a medical textbook and learning how to say medical words in the new language. The words we were given were always boring words. The reading material was boring and unchallenging. I would instead read difficult level adult material, filled with tens of thousands of unknown words, and not know what a single bit of it means. I would do that. I’ll try that for a while, when the time comes, and I’ll see how I do with the Meaningless Method of Language Acquisition. It will be an interesting challenge.

The reason why I wrote a bunch of really long unbroken paragraphs in the last few blogs was because I started using the ‘QuickPress’ thing to blog into. I typed directly into it. I got sick of the slow-moving, slow-loading, junk-filled ‘New Post’ page on the home page of WordPress. It used to be simple and basic, BUT NO!!! They HAD to make it into EXACTLY THE SAME THING as the normal page where you write your blog, with all the ‘features,’ with all the little buttons to give you bold text and paragraph formatting and all that, so I have to wait a few minutes for it to load and so that it lags behind my keystrokes while I’m typing, so there’s no point in using it anymore. Guess what, I never format any of my text. I loathe unnecessary formatting. I find other ways to pseudo-format my text, like putting *asterisks* around my words, or writing in ALL CAPS, and that kind of thing. Anyway, I like the QuickPress, except that it’s only three lines long, so I can’t see how long my gigantic paragraphs have grown, and I’m not aware that I need to break them down into smaller ones.

Right now, I’m typing in Notepad, and I hate how they’ve ruined Notepad – a perfectly simple program that used to work just fine! but now it’s full of bugs! When you hit ‘save,’ your cursor disappears and reappears in a random location, so that if you start typing again, you will be writing in the middle of some random word in a paragraph above where you were, and you have to hit ctrl-end to go to the end.

Why is everything garbage? Because the SLI types aren’t running the businesses. We need more SLI CEOs. We need more companies owned and operated by SLIs. They will make them like they used to.

Sigh….. These work uniforms are contaminated. I need to get a new one now.

December 22, 2011

Here is the rationale for why I have to disconnect from Rick, in spite of ‘them’ constantly trying to force me to remain focused upon him. I’m assuming that he thinks that I am ‘weird in a bad way.’ It’s possible to be weird in a cute, eccentric, lovable way, but that’s not what I am. When I wrote dozens of comments on his blog (after my having recommended that he block me from sending emails to him, which left me no way of getting through except by writing on the blog), and after my emailing his wife, he decided that I was weird in a dangerous way or weird in an extremely annoying way. He wrote in an email that I seemed to be on the verge of hating him and/or his wife, which I do not. I don’t hate either one of them. Whatever ‘hate’ he saw in my emails or comments to him was a fake emotion caused by the drug residues (which, I assume, he believes don’t exist) and was therefore temporary, and also, I was being forced to say particular words because I was being controlled, which would have made me seem more hateful than I actually am. So he believes that I hate him and his wife and that therefore I’m dangerous. Meanwhile, I am actually getting rid of the drug residues that caused me to have the manic attacks, and once that’s gone, I still won’t be able to convince him that the manic attacks were temporary. He will believe that the manic behavior is a permanent part of who I am, something which I have the potential to do at any moment without explanation, without cause, because he won’t believe that I actually know what caused it and that I have removed the cause.

Anything he said, any words he wrote, which resembled consent or encouragement in any way, were fake puppet words, because I know for a fact that the electronic harassment is going on in Ukraine – one of the few people on earth who actually believed me happened to be a guy that I met who came here from Ukraine, and electronic attacks were commonplace enough there that I could just randomly meet some ordinary guy who just happened to have vaguely heard about it and believed it was real. It was taken seriously and not looked at as a mental illness. It was known to be something that, perhaps, the mafia would do to somebody. Anyway, I’ve seen some things that Rick has written which looked like typical puppet words – things that would have a ‘double meaning’ that I would understand. He once wrote a blog called ‘Speak Russian/Ukrainian Now Or Forever Hold Your Peace,’ and he said that he had written it sort of ‘in jest,’ which is one of the typical signs of writing puppet words – they give you the feeling that you are making ‘a joke’ when you’re a person who doesn’t normally make jokes. I forced myself to ignore that particular ‘joke.’ However, ‘they’ always encourage me to view those types of things as secret messages meant for me. The next one, which was again most likely a ‘joke,’ was the two words he wrote in part of his profile on The16Types. I’m sure he wrote that as an ‘angry joke’ and was not thinking about how I would take it to be a suggestion or consent, a double meaning beyond the literal meaning of the words. And I can imagine what he’d say if I pointed that out to him. He would say something to the effect of, “What will it be next? If I can’t just write words that aren’t directed at you, without you interpreting them as having a ‘hidden meaning,’ then how can I possibly write anything at all without accidentally saying something that you will interpret that way? I could remove those words but then it would be another couple of words tomorrow.”

He has never seen me actually using my intellectual abilities, and so, while he might recognize that I am ‘living below my potential’ or something, he would rather be with somebody who was healthy and who was actually working at a good job or achieving things. I can explain that there are reasons why I haven’t been able to achieve my potential, but I don’t think that I will be able to achieve a lot of potential in the near future, as my main goal now is to have my children before it’s too late, and that means I don’t want to go back to college right at the moment. I must stay with my children.

He actually said he would call the police if I tried to meet him in person. I’m tempted to just not believe him, because I feel that if he saw me, he would quickly know that I am not dangerous and that I am nowhere near as annoying as I am online during a manic attack.

I just need some kind of strong argument that convinces me that I absolutely must separate from him and I absolutely must not ever try to go find him. Because I actually would go over there to be with him. If he consented to that, then I would.

I got clean uniforms out of the storage unit – my work uniform is contaminated with something that is causing a reaction right now. I’m much better during the times when I’m not working, because of that. I will have to get out one of the clean uniforms and wear it tomorrow. I don’t want the uniforms to get me back into the obsessive/suggestible mood again. Work uniforms are very hard to replace now that they changed the style of the uniforms. I can’t just get a ‘decoy’ shirt from Wal-Mart because they don’t have anything that resembles these new uniforms. I will actually have to get the lady to sew me some new uniforms. I did talk to her, a couple months ago, about that project. After I’ve used up the couple of remaining shirts that I have, I won’t have any more of them.

I need to get clean enough that *nothing on earth* could possibly make me believe that going over there and trying to meet Rick could ever be a sane idea at all. The residues make me so suggestible that I still believe it. I’m trying to convince myself that he hates me and fears me so much that my physical life would be in danger if I went near him, because he would call the police to protect himself against me, and there’s nothing I can possibly do to change his mind – he will always hate me and fear me, forever, because of my behavior during the manic attacks. He’ll never understand that it was something temporary and not something permanent in my personality. I will be in physical danger if I try to approach him and he tries to defend himself by calling the police and having me arrested.

Three Huge, Flaming Rants

December 22, 2011

I wrote these huge flaming rants while I was in West Virginia during a time when I couldn’t get on the internet.

I’m trying to eat solid food right now for the first time. This could be a disaster, or it could be the one thing that finally makes me start to feel better. We’ll see. I’m just trying to endure the pain of existence right now, while waiting for time to pass, as my horrible disease slowly goes away. Writing and reading are the only activities that I can endure right now, which is why I’m blogging so much. I’ll be more productive after this disease goes away and after I get back into the routine of working. Then I will make more progress. But for now, three huge flaming rants.

Rant #1
Mom Can’t Stand My Grooming

7:27 AM 12/18/2011

When I got up this morning, I found a toothbrush and toothpaste by the sink. Mom has given me a couple of little things that are grooming-related. She gave me these little bottles of chemicals which I will never use, some sort of dry-cleaning body wash stuff. I guess I might possibly use them a little bit, but I won’t buy more when they’re gone. They’re for living in my car without a shower.

I am not able to defend my decision to not brush my teeth. I can defend the decision not to shave. That was a decision that Rachael and I made together and I know and understand and agree with the rationale behind it. I can sort of, kind of defend the decision to wear natural dreadlocks. I made the decision while being influenced by ‘them,’ however, I can rationalize it by saying that I want to observe whether dreadlocks really will grow longer than my hair’s terminal length, because my hair only reached ‘classic length’ and then stopped growing any longer, and I want my hair to keep getting longer and longer, and only dreadlocks can do that. So I can partially raionalize and defend that decision. My parents hate the natural dreadlocks – they might have tolerated ‘clean’ dreadlocks, mainstream dreadlocks, if I had kept them a small size and washed them with shampoo. But I do not wash my hair with shampoo, and I have irregularly sized locks, and there are only a small number of locks on my head, with big spaces in between, because my hair is extremely thin. So the hair doesn’t ‘look good,’ and ‘looking good’ cannot be used as a rationale for why I am doing this. It doesn’t bother *me* to have something that doesn’t ‘look good’ in that way – it only bothers me a little bit.

But the decision to stop brushing my teeth is something else. That was very much influenced by ‘them,’ and I can’t say to my mother ‘I’m not brushing my teeth, because the voices told me not to.’

What is the story behind my not brushing my teeth?

I stopped brushing my teeth in 2009, the same year that I started my dreadlocks. I had read about the Weston Price diet. If you eat the primitive diet, and if you are not using any drugs, and if you are not sick, and if you are not being poisoned or harmed by chemicals in any other way, then it’s possible for you to not brush your teeth for your entire life, yet have perfectly healthy teeth without a single cavity. Only if all those conditions are true.

‘They’ made me stop brushing my teeth during a time when NONE of those conditions were true.

I am not on the diet. I am eating a horrible diet, a fast food diet, where I don’t get *any* of the healthy foods that I want, *ever*. I am also influenced by drugs and chemicals, which cause the body to lose more minerals. I also have some kind of liver disease, which has happened on and off since about 1999 when I first got sick really badly. I have some theories about what’s causing it. And I’m not going to get into that right now. But that affects my body’s ability to absorb nutrients. (Note, I went to several doctors, all of whom said that there was nothing wrong with my liver, and I had tests done, and none of them showed anything abnormal; and yet I have some symptoms of an unknown liver problem.)

So I would *not* have chosen this time to stop brushing my teeth. I would have waited until after I had completely transitioned to the Weston Price diet, and then maybe I would have considered quitting toothbrushing.

But ‘they’ urged me to try it. And when I stopped brushing my teeth, a few things happened which made me reluctant to start again. The enamel became slightly brittle and fragile around the edges. My teeth were destroyed by orthodontic braces, years ago. The braces force the teeth to move into another position, which stretches the gumline around the base of the teeth, exposing all of the roots and causing receding gumlines. That is 100% caused by braces, and it is not something that ‘just happened’ to me. Even the dentists have admitted to me that it’s caused by braces. When the roots are exposed like that, then it’s possible to start destroying around the edges of the tooth enamel. That started to happen.

Now my teeth are so delicate that if I brush them, I am afraid that the mechanical action of the toothbrush itself will damage the fragile enamel’s edges. And in fact, toothbrushing does mechanically wear down the teeth. You can get ‘pits’ in your teeth, little worn down areas, from brushing with a ‘firm’ toothbrush, and from brushing too vigorously, and from brushing in the wrong directions. Toothbrushing wears down your teeth even more if, for any reason, they are soft or crumbling or fragile. So I am now somewhat scared to try brushing again. I did actually try it for a few days, maybe a year ago. All that I noticed was that it made my entire mouth hurt. The toothpaste causes pain.

So I feel defensive about my decision to continue not brushing. There are a small number of people on the internet who are trying alternative ways of brushing their teeth, and most of them still use *some* kind of chemical, or some kind of cleaning method. They don’t just stop brushing them, and do nothing, while still eating a horrible diet and still living in an unhealthy way in general. I can sort of feel bonded with those people who are trying these things on the net, and sort of feel slightly strengthened by the knowledge that other people are doing this too, but that’s all. I don’t feel strong enough and secure enough and confident enough to argue against my mother and defend my decision not to brush my teeth. It was something that I did reluctantly, with hesitation, knowing that it was dangerous and knowing that it was the wrong time to do this, knowing that if I had decided it on my own, I would have never done it this particular way at this particular time.

What’s happened to my teeth over the past two years of not brushing at all?

First, the uppermost and lowermost surfaces of the teeth, the surfaces closest to the gumline, began to soften. They took on the texture of ‘rotting wood’ that Weston Price described, a soft spongy texture. You can press a fingernail into them – but I don’t do that! – after discovering how soft they were, I was careful never to poke them or jab anything sharp against them, anything like my fingernails. I gently scrape some of the plaque off, using my fingernails, and that is all that I do.

So now I have a whiter, softer area on all the teeth next to the gumline. I’ve seen this on other people’s teeth. People who are extremely unhealthy have this. There is a woman at work who – don’t get me started – she got breast cancer – don’t get me started!!! – and she totally is obeying the mainstream cancer recommendations – poison yourself and chop off as many body parts as you can possibly chop off, and throw them in the garbage, even if they’re fine – I hate hearing about all of the destruction that the doctors are doing to her body, and the drugs that are poisoning her constantly. She is on so many drugs, and is so sick, and so malnourished – when you are on chemotherapy, it messes up everything going on in your entire body – it is a deadly poison. So her body isn’t able to keep a lot of minerals, and her teeth are demineralizing. She has that same stripe of whiteness near the gumline, and she is getting lots and lots of cavities.

(I’m drinking coffee today, and drank it yesterday, too. I’m at my parents’ house right now. There are drug-related reasons why I chose to drink the coffee. But I don’t feel like talking about the drug residues. I just want to be rid of them. Anyway, my writing style will be influenced by the coffee I’m drinking.)

I can’t defend the toothbrushing decision. I would say that I’m *planning on* getting on the Weston Price diet, but in reality, I haven’t been able to take any actions to do so at this time, for various reasons. I am on the worst possible diet. Actually, no, I’m not on the worst possible diet. I’m on a fast food diet. As bad as that sounds, it has some redeeming value. I am able to eat meat and milk. I am not eating as poorly as the people in the Great Depression who would eat nothing but bread, for instance. The meat and milk is of poor quality – it’s factory-farm stuff – but it’s at least something.

My teeth softened around the edges, as I said. And I have some cavities developing which are mostly on the upper left teeth in the back. They are not black, they are a brownish color. Those teeth are affected by my bruxism, tooth-clenching or jaw-clenching. My bruxism happens whenever I am affected by antidepressant residues of any kind. Antidepressants, and other drugs, including St. John’s Wort, cause you to clench your teeth extremely tightly all the time. They also cause you to smirk constantly or smile constantly. If you see a mass murderer, if he hasn’t shot himself afterwards, you will always see that this guy is standing there smiling, even after having killed a bunch of people, even though he’s arrested by the police and is about to go on trial and will probably be sentenced to life in prison, or perhaps to death, and he’ll be standing there smiling. It’s a smug little smirk, almost like he’s proud of himself for doing this, almost like he thinks it’s funny. That’s because he’s on drugs – always. It has nothing to do with feeling some kind of emotion of smugness or pride or humor, nothing whatsoever. Every mass murder, with no exceptions, every time somebody goes out in public and shoots a bunch of people and then kills themselves, is caused by drugs. There are no exceptions to this. Every single one. And you will see them smiling or smirking. That smirk is drug-induced, and it is the one sure sign they’re drugged, and you can see it just by looking at them.

So my teeth are damaged by bruxism. The cavities are not appearing on the chewing surfaces, though. The chewing surfaces are worn down, but fine. They are worn through the enamel, down to the dentin, but there are no cavities there. The cavities appear on the ‘idle’ surfaces of the teeth, the parts that just sit there, the upper parts. (I suspect that the word ‘idle’ was a puppet word, but it seemed to fit in the sentence, so I used it. When I get bombarded with random voices and words, they often get into my sentences.)

The teeth are actually getting crushed by the clenching, not just worn down. When I clench them so hard, when they are soft and brittle, it actually crushes them at the more distant parts (I need anatomical language, now – perhaps ‘distal’ is the word), the parts closest to the roots – not just the chewing surfaces. The cavities on the upper left are possibly related to this crushing force from the bruxism. That’s only a theory. I am not sure that that’s why they’re there. They might also be there because of pitting caused by improper brushing on that side.

The left side is different from the right side, because my jaw is crooked. I was born with a smashed face. The left side of my face was squashed, and for my entire life, the left side teeth clenched together before the right side ones did. They clench together sooner, and harder. The jaw is not straight.

So those cavities are slowly getting worse. They don’t hurt. My teeth actually don’t hurt, most of the time, but there are particular things which will trigger them to hurt. If I have an antidepressant residue outbreak of any kind, then I will have bruxism, and during the periods of bruxism, my teeth hurt. If I eat particular foods, then my teeth will hurt, but I haven’t kept a record of which foods trigger it.

Oddly enough, I have discovered that pineapple is very bad for your teeth. I used to eat a lot of pineapple. There was this guy I was talking to for a while, and I really disliked him, but ‘they’ forced me to talk to him, and this guy told me that he had once tried a ‘pineapple diet,’ a special fad diet for weight loss, where you eat large amounts of pineapple, and he said that he gots lots of cavities during the time when he was on that diet. I notice cavities and tooth pain too whenever I eat pineapple, and it happens instantly, within 24 hours of eating the pineapple. Like many medical symptoms, you can observe it right away.

There is a fallacious belief in popular culture. Very large numbers of people believe that medical symptoms can only be observed over the long term. They believe medical symptoms are cumulative. They believe medical symptoms are impossible to observe on your own, and the only way to observe them is to do double-blind, placebo-controlled, government-sponsored, authority-approved, scientific experiments upon large populations of people. They believe that medical symptoms appear very slowly over years and years and years, perhaps decades.

So, for instance, if you get cancer, it’s because you inhaled a few molecules of asbestos 30 years ago, and a few molecules of smoke 25 years ago, and a few molecules of some other poison or germ 20 years ago, and so on. They believe that medical problems develop that way.

But in reality, you suddenly got cancer because you did something *yesterday*. Yesterday, you got a bunch of plastic tooth fillings, while at the same time, you were taking birth control pills, and at the same time, you contracted the human papilloma virus, and at the same time, your house burned down and you inhaled a lot of smoke while you were crawling out to escape, and as a result, you suddenly got some kind of cancer. Medical symptoms are more like that. You can actually remember what incident triggered something in the recent past. It will be a combination of several factors happening together, and you won’t know exactly which one was the most important trigger, but you will have several different suspects of what might possibly have caused it.

My dad made me laugh yesterday. He had said that he was sick with something, and I asked for more information, and he said that he had had diarrhea in the middle of the night, and didn’t know why. So he thought he might have a contagious virus, because there was in fact a vomit virus going around – I witnessed it myself – somebody was vomiting at the rest stop where I was trying to sleep when I was driving to WV. But then he said it might also have been caused by lactose intolerance, because he rarely drank milk, but he had gone someplace that day and drunk milk for the first time in a long time. And then he said that, then again, it might have been salmonella from eating the four-day-old spaghetti – and that’s when I started laughing and laughing. It’s so wonderful to hear another person whose brain works the same way mine does. I inherited it from my dad.

But there is one thing that I *never* say is the cause of illness – the s-word. I never say that ‘stress’ caused some kind of illness. Psychological factors are not a cause of illness. There are going to be people who completely flip out when I say that. But ‘mental’ factors are the smallest, weakest, least important of all the possible causes of illness. They are a red herring, something that misleads you, something that distracts you from looking for the real cause, something that is a substitute for knowing the cause. If you don’t have the slightest idea what caused an illness or what needs to be done about it, then you can say that it was caused by ‘stress’ the same way that you can say it was caused by ‘evil spirits’ or ‘a bad alignment of the planets’ or ‘bad karma’ or something like that. That is the ranking that I give to the idea of ‘stress.’ It is down at the very bottom in my ranking of respectable causes. It is utterly contemptible. It is a mere superstition. Absolute garbage. I can’t emphasize enough just how intense is my revulsion and disrespect for the concept of ‘stress’ as a cause of illness.

Stress is real. Stress is how you feel whenever a large number of uncontrollable things attack you at once. You’re lost in the woods, and the sun has gone down, and the temperature has dropped below freezing, and it’s just started to snow, and you tripped and hurt your ankle, and when you fell, your hands landed in a pool of ice water which got your gloves all wet, and you dropped your compass and your flashlight, and you ate the very last granola bar in your backpack, and you just heard the sound of a pack of howling wolves over the next hill, but there are no trees for you to climb, and a couple of enemy planes just flew overhead, and the sole is ripping off your old worn-out shoe, and you’re craving a cigarette, but your lighter is out of lighter fluid, and it sucks to be you. Stress is real.

However, stress does not cause illness.

You got sick because of hypothermia, but not because of stress. You got sick because of starvation, but not because of stress. You got sick because of a bacterial infection from a wolf bite, but not because of stress. You got sick because of blood loss from an enemy bullet, but not because of stress. There is a specific cause of illness. Stress is the same thing as bad karma, misaligned planets, and evil spirits. It is the opposite of a cure-all, it is a cause-all. Cure-alls don’t exist, and neither do cause-alls.

It is okay to say that you *feel* stress. Stress is a feeling. Stress is a reaction. Stress is an experience. You can say you were overwhelmed by the stress of a situation, and so you had to sit down and cry, or you had to collapse in your bed, or you were yelling at your comrades because of the high stress level. Sometimes, even then, you might have knowledge of a more specific cause, or a most important cause. You wouldn’t have been yelling at your comrades if only you had been able to smoke a cigarette – only that! If only you hadn’t gotten soaking wet when it was 20 degress Fahrenheit outside, you would have been able to stay out a little bit longer and keep walking. But sometimes you just can’t verbalize what exactly went wrong, and it was just too much for you, in too many ways, and all you can do is say that you were overwhelmed by the stress of it.

I had to go read up and see what led to this tangent. I had been saying that it’s possible to observe that you did something just yesterday which triggered the problem you are having today. Or you just did something an hour ago. Many medical symptoms are like that. And so is tooth pain, and so are cavities.

Well, I have to get up and start working sometime. Caffeine makes me want to write and write and write, and talk and talk and talk, and that’s one reason why I wanted to stop caffeine, so that I could focus on working instead of talking. I do more work when I’m off coffee, oddly enough.

I just don’t know how I will explain to my mother what I’m doing and why. I would not have chosen to stop brushing my teeth at this particular time in this particular way, on my own. It was ‘they’ who urged me to do it, and I remember that I disagreed with the decision. But now, I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to start brushing my teeth again. I am *planning* to get on the diet in the future, but that doesn’t stop my teeth from getting cavities right now. I am aware that this is not good. And yet, I am continuing.

…I decided to just gently brush them while I’m here. I brushed them once. It might make it so my breath doesn’t smell as much. Mom doesn’t like any kinds of body odors at all. She says they actually make her sick. She once told me that the smell of body odor was associated with the guy who raped her when she was a teenager. That’s a shame. Body odor should be ubiquitous – it should be everywhere, something that everybody has. (*Edit, this is the first place where I said that a physical attribute should be ‘ubiquitous,’ and I used that same word in another recent blog after I wrote this one, when I said long hair should be ubiquitous.*) Then she wouldn’t associate it with any particular incident. Mom also hates the way my hair smells – dreadlocks smell moldy, musty, mildewy. And they can’t stand my armpits either. I smell more whenever I eat sulfur-containing foods, like eggs, and I’ve been eating eggs for breakfast since I’ve been here.

We just went out and returned the moving van. I don’t feel like writing about the drive down here, right now. I did okay. I had a few small problems but I was lucky and they turned out okay.

I have to remind myself why I’m here. I’m so tempted to just go outside and walk in the woods and go on a long walk and explore things. Or I could get in my car and go explore other areas. But I am here to sort through my stuff. There is hardly any space at all for me to put my stuff in. So I am going to have to eliminate even more of it. I didn’t completely finish sorting through it before I left, but I decided that it was urgent that I must leave State College now and bring it down here so that I would have time before my vacation is over.

I did something fun yesterday that made me think of Rick. I was playing the piano and writing the songs as I played them. I played with both hands, and I wasn’t really playing chords, but just a couple of notes, down low and up high. I did something on a 4/4 beat at first, then I tried something that was like 6/8, then I tried 9/8, the Irish slipjig, like the one song on my Silver Apples of the Moon CD. That one’s the hardest. It was very easy to improvise a song in 4/4. And if you know the rules to follow, you can improvise chords and harmonies. I’d get the William Russo book, Composing Music, and I’d reread it and remind myself about all of that, but that is postponed for now. I have urgent things I must do before I am free to write music. I was actually sort of ‘conducting’ the music while writing it, sort of swaying or dancing and then playing some things on the piano and trying to make the structure of the song by dancing it first to feel the beat.

You would have to know the beat ahead of time if you were improvising with someone, or else, follow them, and be able to pick up on the beat they were doing. If it were purely wandering music, with no beat, you would have to infer the general spirit of it to keep up with them. Improvisation is not random. You have agreed upon rules, at least vaguely. Sometimes it makes you laugh if you make a mistake, or it makes you laugh if you get it perfect and do it really well for a few seconds. Sometimes it sounds horrible. But jazz musicians improvising don’t make it sound horrible, because they know what scale they’re using, and they know which notes go with which, and when you are on the wrong note, you can transition to the next note while the first person holds their note. You’re not both doing fast movements at the same time. It isn’t a bunch of fast chord changes. I’d have to listen to jazz again to remember.

I am perfectly capable of writing music on the fly; however, that music doesn’t satisfy me quite as much as the music that I write carefully, with planning. There’s a reason. If you write music spontaneously, by playing it, then you are controlled by habit. But if you write music consciously and carefully, you can question the habits, and you can write something new that has never been written before. When you write music spontaneously, you tend to write automatically, doing whatever is easy and familiar.

If you do something new and risky, it might not sound right. You have to know how big the recommended skip intervals are; you can’t just hit one random note after another. If it’s to be singable, then the topmost note and the bottommost notes of the melody must be no more than a tenth apart (recommended by Russo), because people’s singing range might not be very large.

I don’t have perfect pitch, but I have some awareness of what a note will sound like if I am about to press a key on the piano. I can guess right, most of the time, but every now and then I will make an awful sounding mistake. If I made a conscious effort to memorize the sounds of all of the note intervals, then I would be better able to do it. It would require mental focus. I’d focus better if I weren’t playing with two hands. I was using both hands last night. I’d know better exactly which note I was on and its relationship to the next note I was pressing. Last night I was pressing a few notes with the left hand, then pressing a few notes with the right hand, and sort of alternating them and making them catch up with each other and harmonize with each other.

It also is worthwhile to have a large-scale structure in a song. The song might just wander meaninglessly from one note to the next, on and on and on without resting, without changing its style. That becomes boring. But if the song is lively and energetic at one moment, and then, a while later, slower and sadder, or whatever, that gives contrast and makes it interesting and meaningful. How do you even know when it’s over, if the style of the song never changes? You’d just suddenly stop arbitrarily. There’d be no particular reason why the song had to stop at that moment, and not some earlier moment or some later moment. So you can say ‘This is the fast part,’ ‘This is the slow part,’ ‘This is the climax,’ and so on, with regard to the large scale structure.

I’d learn the violin, and I probably will play the violin at some future time in my life. I have short fingers, so I won’t play it as well as a long-fingered person would. But I will be able to play it in a restricted way. I could play a miniature violin, if there is such a thing. I thought that the viola was larger than the violin, but I could be mistaken, maybe it’s smaller, I forget.

I need to work on sorting things out now. This was why I didn’t want to drink coffee – when I drink coffee, all that I desire is to write, and to talk, forever and ever and ever. But I have to remember the reason why I came here. I came here, to get rid of the contamination, to shut down my storage units so that I don’t have to pay for them, to feel secure knowing that my belongings were in a safe place permanently. I came here to liberate myself from many years of terrible burdens. I came here to end it. It’s going to be almost over, when I leave this stuff here, and all that will be left is my car, and only a few other small things in the car that I need to keep. The drug residues won’t be making me manic anymore. I’ll still be hearing voices and getting attacked and getting distracted and I won’t be able to function at my fullest potential because of that, but at least I won’t be so suggestible and so obnoxious and annoying.

I won’t be so sexually obsessive either – the sexual obsessiveness is repulsive to someone who doesn’t know me and doesn’t know whether they’d be attracted to me or not. And it can be overwhelming even if people know me and like me. When I need to be sexual again, I’ll eat caviar. I tested caviar, and it contains fish sex hormones that work for humans. It causes women to become fertile and to seem like they are ‘in heat.’

I can’t eat much of that awful stuff in the jars at the grocery store, but maybe I could get fresher, better quality fish eggs somewhere else – I looked them up online. They will cause vomiting if you’re not careful. I could barely eat even just one or two of them – they were horrible. After you eat them, you can taste something that smells and tastes like roadkill, dead bodies, putrescence, down in your stomach, coming back up – putresamine, cadaverine, those chemicals.

But I’d try fresh ones, and it doesn’t have to be caviar, it can be ordinary fish eggs. Anyway, I will be capable of becoming sexual whenever the time comes that I need to do so – I know exactly how to do it. And the fish eggs cause me to become attractive to men – it’s either because of the way I smell, or something in my behavior and body language, or, who knows, something in my electromagnetic field, I don’t know, but it affects the men around me. I’m usually asexual when I’m off drugs, when I’m not exposed to any drug residues at all. I only become sexual if I am near someone else who is excited. I am actually rather boring and neutral whenever I am my real self, not at all flirtatious, not the least bit seductive. I am just very calm and serious. I’ve never been seductive or flirtatious at all.

(The drug residues affecting me today are strongly affecting my sexuality, which is why I am preoccupied with this subject. Also, I have barely eaten breakfast, and I’m finally becoming hungry enough to go eat, and the hunger sensation is misinterpreted as a sexual obsession, the same way that thirst and dehydration is misinterpreted as a sexual obsession.)

If I learned a new language, I would do this. I would get an audio book. I would make sure that it was a book that I would be interested in. But I won’t know the meaning of any words. It doesn’t matter. Little babies don’t know the meanings of the words they hear. Knowing the meanings of the words is the LAST thing you need to know, the lowest of all priorities. Get a read-aloud book. Follow the words along with the person reading aloud. Say them out loud. Mimic every nuance of the person’s accent. Pronounce every word exactly right. Don’t let the slightest accent distort your sounds. Handwrite the pages of the book, copy them by hand using pencil and paper, without knowing what any of the words mean. Check your spelling as you go, and spell every word correctly. Your hands and fingers will memorize the shape of every word, though you don’t know the meanings. Type the pages of the book again with a keyboard.

I don’t like automatic readers – they sometimes pronounce words strangely and unnaturally, and also, they have a hard time knowing which musical pitch you should be on in a sentence that needs to express something beyond the words – a question rises up at the end of the sentence, for example. So, get a real person reading the book aloud, get a recording of a real person. Record yourself and listen to it. You must speak with the same accent as the other person.

The accent is the most important thing – it makes people have a hard time understanding you. It makes people distrust you, it makes people distance themselves from you, it makes people feel that you are different from them, that you are not one of their kind, that you wouldn’t understand them and the things they care about. It’s harder for them to see your soul underneath your accent. They underestimate your intelligence.

Finally, after having done all that, maybe, just maybe, you could sometimes, once in a while, find out what the words mean. But that doesn’t matter. Knowing what the words mean is the least important of all the things you have to do. You have to simply feel them. You have to feel them in your mouth and your hands and your eyes and your ears.

I know all of this already.

Rant #2

11:40 AM 12/19/2011

I can’t get on the internet right now. Dad has this cell phone internet connection, and you have to use a little thing that hooks into a… oh, I can’t remember what it’s called now. It’s just a little gadget that you have to hook to the computer so that it can dial in to the cellular network. Dad went someplace with his laptop, and he has the gadget, so I can’t hook the gadget to the PC to get online. So I’ll write on my netbook and I’ll post this blog later.

I’m getting into an extremely annoyed and angry mood, which is partly caused by the large amount of coffee I’m drinking, and the drug residue reactions from the stuff that I’m handling. The bad mood comes first, and the ‘topic’ or ‘subject’ or ’cause’ of the bad mood comes afterwards. The so-called ’cause’ of the anger doesn’t come first, and it is, in fact, not the cause. Bad moods are a physical, bodily phenomenon, and are not caused by some external trigger (‘Why is everyone being so annoying today? People are stupid!’).

Still, once you are in a bad mood, the external triggers will add to it and will give it more energy.

And so…

I HATE GIFTS!!! Do not give me gifts. Gifts have a very high likelihood of being thrown directly into the garbage. You do not know what I want, and you are not capable of buying it for me. The junk that you buy for me is useless, ugly, and impractical, and I would never in a million years buy it for myself. I hate almost every object you have ever given me. (Note, some people’s gifts are worse than other people’s.) I do not hate my relationship with you, I do not hate you as a person, but I absolutely cannot stand your preferences in physical objects. Again, YOU ARE NOT CAPABLE OF BUYING THINGS FOR ME!!! Do not try to do it!

I have an extremely long list of mental rules and criteria that are so complex you cannot possibly guess them or follow them. All of my clothing, all of my tools, all of my belongings, are purchased according to this extremely complex set of rules. I have not written down these rules. I do not want you to attempt to infer what they are. (You seem to have made very little effort to do so, anyway.)

I stopped celebrating Christmas many years ago, and I informed everyone that I had stopped, but people were still in denial and they still kept buying me things, and they also still kept buying me birthday presents as well. So I ended up with a lot of objects that sat around taking up space on my shelves because they were so ugly and useless and impractical that I would not even pretend to be trying to use them.

Not only that, but because of the drug residue contamination, I started throwing in the garbage a huge number of my own belongings, and gifts are at risk of becoming contaminated just as much as my own belongings are, so during a contamination incident is NOT the time to be buying me more stuff that I have to wrap up and cherish and protect against contamination.

I’m finding calendars that my parents gave me. Calendars are one of the compromise gifts that they insist on giving me. It is a purely symbolic ‘gift’ that I am obligated to receive because it’s Christmas and Christmas is at the end of the year when we buy ourselves calendars anyway, and calendars are practical and so I am indeed likely to use them.

However, you are incapable of buying me calendars with pleasing photographs in them, and I know this because I myself am incapable of buying calendars with pleasing photos, because I have attempted to do so and have failed, because calendars with pleasing photographs do not exist, because people do not make them. They make calendars with stupid, boring photographs that are of no interest to me. They are not beautiful images. They do not show immages of anything that I value or am interested in. They do not show aesthetically pleasing images. Their images do not show the spirit that I desire to see in images, just as the music playing on the radio does not have the spirit that I seek in music. It is garbage. I only see tiny fragments of this spirit in only a few rare images.

My parents know that I’ve always liked ‘weather.’ I was interested in tornadoes when I was a child. I *loved* meteorology class and I got high grades in that class, easily, in college. So they buy me weather calendars.

I would need custom-made calendars with custom-chosen images on them. Do calendars need to have an image on them? Do they need to be a poster on the wall? I would have bought myself plain calendars with no photographs at all. It seems odd, now that I think about it, that somebody sometime in the past decided that a calendar was a good place to put poster images, and it became a common practice to make a calendar into something that would show photographs for every month or every day all year long. What an odd custom, now that I think about it. I would have nothing but a black and white, easy-to-read-at-a-distance, large print calendar that I can see if I’m standing all the way across the room, but no, calendars have teeny tiny little numbers on them and you have to stand right next to it to see them. They expect you to write down your appointments in the white space, or something, but I don’t do that.

Yes, it’s true that I ‘like weather,’ quote unquote. It’s always been an interest of mine, or at least, it was, during the time period of my life when I wasn’t worried about paying the bills, when I could afford to actually have interests and hobbies that didn’t lead directly towards money-earning. Nowadays, I don’t allow myself to study things unless they have immediate practical use, because of all the limitations on my time. I would love to study and learn infinite things forever if I could. So nowadays, I’m not really studying meteorology. But my parents just remembered that I ‘like weather’ and so it became a tradition to get me a weather calendar every year at Christmas.

My aunt has given me some things too and I don’t even want to talk about how bad her gifts are. Her gifts are often painstakingly hand-crafted and custom-made for me, WHICH IS THE WORST POSSIBLE THING SHE COULD DO, because, as I said above, all of my gifts have a very high likelihood of going into the garbage at some point in time, either immediately, or a year or two later after they’ve been sitting on the shelf doing nothing for a long time.

Taking gifts to Goodwill requires effort. If you give me a gift, you are burdening me with a future item on my to-do list: Take gift to Goodwill. I don’t like having to spend energy taking gifts to Goodwill or selling them online or whatever would be needed… and that is the reason why they go into the garbage, because that requires the least amount of effort from me. When you give me a gift, that’s like giving me more items on my to-do list. It’s another nuisance that I will have to deal with.

WHY DO PEOPLE INSIST ON BUYING THINGS FOR ME??? It makes me furious just thinking about it. Every boyfriend I’ve had in the past few years has insisted on buying me junk for my birthday and for Christmas every year, even though I have warned them over and over again that I absolutely hate gifts and that they are not capable of guessing what I want and that the gifts have a very high probability of going into the garbage. They still insist they must waste their money and *try* to be the one person who somehow psychically magically will ‘win’ at trying to guess what I want and successfully buying it for me. It’s like some kind of a challenge to them. Nicole hates gifts, but I bet that MY gift will be better than everyone else’s gifts, so I’ll get her one anyway. And nope, they have all gone into the trash.

It’s hard to explain, because sometimes I force myself to temporarily use a gift if it has something resembling practical usefulness. I’m remembering a clock radio that Peter bought for me. He bought it, even though I already had a clock. I had an ancient, junky little electronic clock which I had kept for years and years and years. It was one of those cheapo clocks where, after a while, the buttons break off and sort of fall down inside the casing of the clock. I’ve taken apart those clocks and I’ve propped up the buttons with little objects underneath them so that the buttons can continue to be pushed after their little plastic legs can’t be glued back on anymore.

My clock was working okay. The alarm still went off, and that was all that I needed. But Peter insisted that I needed a new clock. So he bought me, not just a plain little clock, but a CLOCK RADIO. I hate music (because I love music, and real music doesn’t exist), and I hate the radio, and I will hardly ever use the radio, but no, my clock had to have a RADIO and not just a clock. So I then had two clocks, a junky little old one that still worked, and a brand new one taking up space in my small efficiency apartment where I didn’t have a lot of room for junk, even back when I still had an apartment and wasn’t yet living in my car (where I have even less room for junk).

That clock ended up going in the garbage. It will always be for some reason or another. The contamination incident happened shortly after he gave me that clock, and the clock was one of the first things that got ruined. Even if it hadn’t been the contamination, it would have been something or other, sooner or later. I have had a pattern of getting rid of more and more junk over the past few years, even aside from the contamination problem. I have had a pattern of having very intensely negative emotional reactions to clutter and gifts and stuff. I become extremely angry about it. While sorting through my old papers I found a note that I had written to another previous boyfriend complaining about the gifts he was giving me, and I WAS FURIOUS, I was enraged, and I didn’t shout out loud but I wrote a very angry letter about it. And I hate it when people don’t listen to me! I hate it when they don’t respect my wishes! I tell them over and over and over again, this same thing, every holiday, every birthday! Don’t buy me anything!

Peter bought me a Valentine’s Day gift. I loathe Valentine’s Day. He bought me a little tiny stuffed bear holding a bag of candy. I don’t like candy anymore now that I am able to buy myself my own food. I only used to eat candy when I was young because I was constantly struggling to get enough of the real food that I needed, because my family’s food was *okay*, it wasn’t the worst possible food a child could have, but still we did not have enough high-fat foods in particular, we did not have enough of the Weston Price foods that every starving person on earth is craving whenever they eat junk food and candy. They are desperately trying to get nutrients that they genuinely need, and they try to get it by eating and drinking the most horrible things. I don’t need candy anymore now that I am no longer constantly starving to death. I buy myself greasy hamburgers and milkshakes – yes, I am on the fast-food diet, and I hate it, but it’s better than the way I used to eat when I was a teenager trapped at home in a house without food. People are desperately trying to find saturated animal fat, which they cannot find, and they are desperately trying to find fat-soluble vitamins.

Oh, I drank the real water yesterday. I went on a hike. I went into the woods behind the house. I went down an old trail that I remembered. I was looking for the ‘cave.’ It’s not a cave, really, it’s just a large rock overhang that you can get underneath, and it’s dark in there. I didn’t find it. I tried going up one of the gullies, and it was the wrong gully, and the hills were very steep, and I got exhausted and had no more desire to go up any more gullies looking for the cave. But I just went walking down the path anyway.

And when I got thirsty, I drank from the streams. In West Virginia, there is not much commercial agriculture, and therefore, there is not much water pollution. Commercial agriculture is, in my opinion, THE WORST polluter on earth, not the factories spewing smoke. Well, cars in the cities pollute the air, and they are one of the worst polluters too. But commercial agriculture is the reason why our creeks are filled with poisons. The only reason why I am particularly annoyed by commercial farming is because I live in State College, PA, where there is a large amount of farming, and so I am surrounded by it all the time, with its disease-infested manure spraying, its pesticides and herbicides and fertilizers, its wasteful monocropping, and, don’t get me started, all of it is horrible. I don’t live in a city where you are surrounded by car exhaust all the time, and so I am not particularly annoyed by or aware of car pollution.

West Virginia’s streams are drinkable, where I am. Every little hill has a dozen springs and gullies. They are everywhere. They are wonderful. I drank it, I tasted the silt. Muddy, silty water tastes wonderful. I think you can probably benefit from the minerals in the silt. I mean, I didn’t actually stir up large amounts of silt and drink brown water. I tried to keep it clear, but I drank small amounts of the silt.

I also nibbled on a little bit of wild garlic. The last time I tried to eat any wild garlic, it made me feel like I was going to throw up, so I was cautious. But this wild garlic was mild, and I ate the entire piece. It was only one single blade of the garlic grass. Maybe it’s milder in the fall and winter time. It tasted wonderful too, and it made me remember my desire to learn how to forage and eat wild herbs.

However, I have also been interested in learning how to eat wild animals, but alas, it is not easy to find places where large herds of grazing animals can be hunted, and so, hunting is difficult. I might eat squirrels or something – I was reading about how to catch squirrels. I’m not ready for this, but it is on my long-term to-do list and it is important to me.

I will also eat insects, when the time is right. They will be relatively easy to produce. I would probably start with earthworms, which I might grow myself in a terrarium or something. I would try to ensure that they did not have parasites.

We had liver for dinner last night because I requested it. I had it again for breakfast today. It was wonderful. I don’t get liver on the fast-food diet. I don’t know why, because liver would be a very quick and easy fast food. The texture of liver is delicious to me. I don’t like muscle meat. Muscle meat is waste that should be thrown to the dogs, but instead, we eat the muscles and we throw the organs to the dogs and cats – they actually make them into pet food. The organs are the only part that is really nourishing for us. I hate the texture of muscle meat. I would eat the organs. The jackals, the scavengers, will eat whatever the lion doesn’t eat, and the lion eats the organs first. The jackals get the less-valuable muscle meat.

I would eat brains, except I’ve never tried them before and I don’t know if they can cause vomiting. I loved the brain of the lobster whenever I’ve bought steamed lobsters. I read that the medulla oblongata contains eosinophils, and eosinophils are in bone marrow, too, and I have a theory that maybe eosinophils might be the reason why bone marrow gave me such horrible food poisoning. Eosinophils are intended to be poisonous, because they are intended to kill parasites. They are something your body uses to destroy the parasite bodies. The chemicals are enclosed in special cells. If you broke those cells open and ate them, then maybe they would cause you to get sick because of the cell-destroying poisons inside. That’s just one of my theories about why bone marrow made me sick. I’ve suspected that brains could possibly cause food poisoning as well, and that’s why they are not commonly eaten in our culture. But I want to try them to find out.

There are also diseases you can get from eating brains. Mad cow disease is one of them, and then there is something else that I can’t remember the name of, but the word is something like ‘kuru kuru’ or something. So I would want animals that were verified to not contain viruses or prions.

I’m wearing a couple pounds of heavy clothing. I’ve been wearing two pairs of pants, and several layers of heavy sweaters and sweatshirts. I got on the scale and it said I was 137 pounds yesterday, and today it said I was 140 pounds, while I was wearing all of my clothing. I’m five feet two inches tall. (*Several days later, when I was wearing less clothing, I weighed 134, which is about how much I thought that I was.*)

I am in the midst of a drug residue exposure area. All prescription pharmaceutical drugs are very likely to cause weight gain, and I believe they are the primary reason for the obesity epidemic. The obesity epidemic has nothing to do with diet, and everything to do with drugs.

Whenever I am exposed to even tiny amounts of drug residues, my weight skyrockets instantly and I can gain like ten pounds in just a couple of days. The weight then instantly vanishes as soon as I get out of the residue-contaminated area and wash off and put on clean clothes. I have had it happen when my car seat covers have ripped off, and I suddenly gain a lot of weight really quickly, and it just as easily vanishes as soon as I put the seat covers back on. I would demonstrate this in a laboratory, but unfortunately I don’t have the money to go sponsoring a bunch of laboratory demonstrations. It only requires residues, not actual drug use, and therefore, obesity is contagious – you merely need to be in the vicinity of other people who are using drugs, in order to gain large amounts of weight very quickly. The drug residues go directly through your skin. Fast, dramatic weight gain – it’s happened to me again and again. And the loss of the weight is equally easy and quick, no exercise, no dieting, just get rid of the drug residues and the weight will vanish by itself in only a couple days.

I’ve been reading about how drugs get into our meat. And I don’t necessarily want to write about it. Human sewage gets poured or sprayed onto fields, and human sewage contains leftover drugs. Animals and people eat the plants grown in those fields. I never knew until recently that *human* sewage was being put onto the fields. I knew that hog manure was an extremely bad thing to fertilize the fields with – I’ve known that for years – it causes disease outbreaks and it also causes hydrogen sulfide pollution – but I was shocked to learn that *human* sewage is also being used as fertilizer. So human sewage on crops is partly responsible for weight gain and also for antibiotic-resistant microbes.

I can tolerate gaining a little weight, and when I get pregnant, I will need to gain it, but I don’t want this weight gain to be caused by drug residues. I want it to be caused by eating plenty of healthy organic pure foods that don’t have toxic stuff in them.

I didn’t finish talking about my hike. On the way home, I took off my shoes and went barefoot through the woods. I tied my shoes around my waist. I did that same thing a week or two ago when I went hiking on the Mid-State Trail (in PA). I ran barefoot. The Mid-State Trail was so rocky, I couldn’t do it for long, and I gave up. I was always suddenly stepping on pointy, irregular-sized rocks that poked into the bones of my feet at exactly the worst possible way at the worst possible moment, and I would fall down, only to step on yet another bad rock with my other foot, till I was down on both knees wincing and yelping in pain.

But the woods here are full of soft, squishy clay covered with leaves. It was the gentlest possible surface. So I came all the way home barefoot. I don’t even remember stepping on any sticker bushes. I had a small bleeding cut on my toe, but it was nothing.

I don’t want to continue my sorting project. I was throwing away gifts that I had been given, and it was adding fuel to my bad mood, and I felt the need to come up here and vent my annoyance for a long time.

Just don’t buy me gifts. Oh, I had been writing about Peter’s Valentine Bear with the candy, and then I started talking about all the reasons why I don’t eat candy anymore, which got me talking about food in general, and I got off topic. I hate Valentine’s Day. The Valentine’s Bear with the candy was one of the gifts I threw away, sometime in the past few months. I hate tiny stuffed animals. I used to like large stuffed animals, but one of the ‘rules’ was that they must be squishy, not hard, and they must be a huggable size. If they are too small to hug, I don’t like them.

And I hate throwing them away, because animal-like objects seem to be alive. If you’ve ever seen any of the Toy Story movies, you know how I feel. I used to feel that toys were alive. I couldn’t throw them away. And the Toy Story movies encourage that belief system. The Toy Story movies even talk about the phenomenon of junky, badly made toys that nobody wants, and how they are such garbage that they get abandoned or thrown away. I can totally relate to those movies. So don’t even buy me any kind of stuffed animals or animal-like objects at all, because it hurts more to throw them away when they seem like they’re alive.

Actually, Toy Story might possibly be interpreted as not necessarily encouraging the protect-the-toys belief system. Toys can be taken as something symbolic representing real relationships. It can all be taken symbolically in a way that doesn’t actually mean ‘toys.’ The feelings and emotions and relationship issues are all real. However, most people watching those movies will relate to them and interpret them as referring to real physical toys. That is how I see those movies.

But the Toy Story movies have to explicitly, openly confront the issue of consumerism and buying junk we don’t really need, and the issue of what we are trying to get instead. What are we seeking, when we buy this junk? Do we need satisfying relationships, feelings of safety and security, and so on? The Toy Story movies would have to move beyond the idea of the toys actually being alive, and it would have to confront the reality of throwing the toys in the garbage whenever we accept the fact that we will get what we need from real relationships and other sources, and not from the toys. It would take a lot of courage to openly confront that in the movies.

I am not entirely opposed to the concept of toys. I used to actually play with them. They are useful for helping me use my imagination. I would not want to completely ban all toys. However, after a point, collecting more junk is harmful. It’s possible to collect more and more toys, as I did. I spent a lot of money on my toy collections.

I value teaching and encouraging children to use their imaginations. I value theatrical play, role-playing, and that can be done with toys. The toys can go through their fantasy stories, their scenarios. But you can do what I did, you can get fascinated with the toys themselves, and start buying more and more and more of them.

I’ve been telling myself that these nonliving objects that I feel sentimental about are actually a substitute for something I really need. I really need my children. I really need satisfying relationships with other people and with real animals. These nonliving objects are clutter. Some of the clutter is contaminated with toxic drug residues which would harm my children, so I’m getting rid of those objects. But even if they weren’t contaminated, they would be one more object that would have to be dragged from place to place as I moved around the world. They would take up room on shelves. They would waste money. I don’t need those things. I need relationships with real living creatures.

All of this makes me angry. It’s so frustrating to try over and over and over again to express these feelings to my friends and family and boyfriends, only to have them violate my wishes again and again and again, ignoring what I told them, not caring about what I like or dislike, giving me gifts because they enjoy the process of giving gifts, or because it’s traditional, or because it’s a mindless routine that they have never questioned, or for whatever reason.

I know that Rick would understand. Everything I’ve read from him tells me that he understands this. He does ultralight backpacking, where you get rid of as much weight as you can. He is now required to relocate every few months because of the 90/180 rule being enforced on foreign citizens where he lives, so he would have to think carefully about what he will bring with him from place to place. He doesn’t like clutter or the ‘consumer culture’ either.

I have no idea whether or not he celebrates Christmas, but if he does, I imagine that he would not go spending huge amounts of money on Christmas gifts for everybody and maxing out all his credit cards and being in debt for months and months and months because of all the Christmas gifts he had bought. If he bought Christmas gifts, I’m sure it would be only a small number of gifts and only for a few special people. I’m sure he’d understand immediately if I told him that nobody must buy me any gifts at all. We would be able to communicate about who buys what and for what purpose. If only I felt that he understood me, if he understood all of ‘the rules,’ then I would be able to tolerate a little bit of gift-buying if it were done properly.

I have to go back down to the basement. This is my last day for sorting. Tomorrow, I must drive back home to go back to my job. I still have to sort through my electronic gadgets, and that’s going to take a while. They’re up in my bedroom. I’m going to be up all night doing all this.

After I get back home and settle in again, I will have to prepare for getting rid of the car. I haven’t yet made a plan for how I will do this, but I have a vague idea.

I guess I will go eat lunch… and get back to sorting. I hate it. It’s harder when I’m drinking coffee. For some reason, I tolerate the sorting project best when I’m off coffee.

But I will get it done. It has to be done. This is it. This is the beginning of the end of the contamination period. That phase of my life will soon be over.

Rant #3
‘Finished,’ Quote Unquote, Part of the Sorting

3:21 PM 12/19/2011

I finished sorting through the non-electronic items. That was the stuff down in the basement. I don’t feel like describing it all, but it was stuff like papers and notebooks that I was keeping, old school yearbooks, artwork, and other objects. I reduced the number of boxes and bags, and I got rid of all the garbage bags. There had been a lot of small, miscellaneous garbage bags with only a few small items in them. I compacted all of that into a smaller number of boxes and containers, and I threw away a little bit more of it, because I had not completely finished sorting it before I brought it down here to WV.

Now I have to do the electronic stuff. I have a feeling that will be easier. I just need to organize it. I will also test to see if my disks are still working. I will get rid of some boxes that are taking up space. I think it might even be fun. I will probably turn the computer on and look at what’s on it. I’m leaving my desktop PC here, along with a whole bunch of floppy disks and CDs.

Dad’s back from wherever he went, and I saw his laptop sitting on the floor in the family room, but it’s in its bag, and I don’t want to open the bag and root around for the internet gadget so that I can surf the net. Dad and Mom are taking a nap, so I will wait for them to wake up, and then I’ll ask permission to get on the net. I don’t want to get in the bag without permission. If the laptop were sitting on the table, I would just remove the gadget.

I’m relieved to have ‘finished’ sorting through the basement stuff. It’s not really finished. Now that I’ve felt how it feels to throw things away, I feel that I can throw away more and more and more. But I am allowed to use up *a little* bit of storage space here in this house. So I don’t urgently need to compact it down much more than I have.

After I wrote the blog yesterday where I said that maybe I would go far away to the ‘anti-Rick zones,’ I started hearing the voices. Of course, they were urging me not to go away from Rick. I can’t help believing them. They were doing the usual, making me feel like he actually cares about what I do.

I was trying to visualize the earth, with highly intelligent IEE personality types located in various places around the world. There are more of them than just Rick. They would be of various ages. They would live in various locations. If I could visualize it enough, I would believe it. Visualization of things like that, with the purpose of convincing me to believe something or to gain perspective on something, is exactly the thing that the soul-murderers always prevent me from doing. But it is really true, there are more of them out there besides Rick. There are more people who have achieved similar achievements, people of similar intelligence levels, people of the same socionic personality type. There are also more people out there who are similar to myself.

If I were free, then I would visualize things like that, and motivate myself to achieve them. I would imagine this map, with IEEs located in all the major cities, IEEs who are seeking job opportunities in places with a high population, who run away from places with a low population where they have fewer opportunities and fewer social contacts. Rick always goes straight into the largest cities, whenever he moves into a new country or a new state. (*Actually, now that I think about it, this might have more to do with the fact that he doesn’t drive a car. It’s easier to live without a car if you’re in a city and there are buses and everything is nearby. It’s harder to live without a car in a rural area where you have to go miles and miles just to get to a grocery store.*)

I usually avoid large cities. However, at the same time, I never wanted to be stuck in the hell-hole where I have been living since 1997, either, and so nobody really knows what type of place I would choose to live in if I made a conscious choice to go live someplace where I wanted to go. I’d like to go away from zones where they have large amounts of commercial farming. I wouldn’t mind organic farming. However, of course, food costs more if you move far away from farming zones.

I’m waiting for Mom and Dad to get up. I have been having cravings all day long – I think I had a tobacco residue exposure – and in my irritable restlessness, I’ve wanted to get on the internet, even though there is nothing really that I can do there, except reread Rick’s pages for the thousandth time. I actually discover new things that I’ve never read before, when I go there, but still, it’s not really what I want. It isn’t the same as interacting with him.

I can’t wait to see what will happen when my obsession is finally changed, when I finally become focused on somebody else.

Do wireless networks cause insomnia?

December 22, 2011

I was reading my stats page for this blog. Somebody found my blog by asking google ‘does wireless networks cause lack of sleep?’ The short answer is Yes. The long answer is Sometimes.

I don’t know if you get insomnia just simply by being surrounded by a wifi network. However, I have experienced insomnia in a couple of situations. I’ve experienced it after using my cell phone in the middle of the night. After I use my cell phone, my brain has this weird feeling that I can’t describe. It’s sort of a high-pitched noise in my head, almost, but not really a noise. Just a burning, screaming feeling inside my head that makes me unable to sleep. I’ve gotten that same feeling after I’ve spent hours uploading videos over wireless. Whenever my laptop is UPloading something, whenever my laptop is sending out a strong signal for hours and hours while I’m sitting next to it, I get that brain burn feeling and I can’t sleep. However, I don’t get anything that bad merely from being in a wireless network. It might be bad if you’re right next to the place where the wifi signal is sent from.

However, radio waves are everywhere now. No matter where you go, you’re likely to encounter some kind of a signal. The signals come from many different sources, and they are at different frequencies. If you could go somewhere with the least amount of radio fields (why am I unable to remember the term I’m trying to think of? I want to say something like ‘radio fields.’ It’s not just ‘electromagnetic fields.’) then you could see whether it was possible to sleep better there. Electromagnetic pollution is real, and it is a separate phenomenon from electromagnetic harassment, which is caused by human beings directly attacking you on purpose. Electromagnetic pollution is something that happens by accident as an unintended consequence of using radio for innocent purposes such as cell phones and music and internet and other forms of communication. You can google ‘electromagnetic sensitivity’ or ‘electromagnetic hypersensitivity’ or ‘electromagnetic pollution’ to read about what it does to your body. (You can also google ‘biolectromagnetics.’ I thought of that one after posting this blog and rereading it.)

Some people will exaggerate the dangers; however, that doesn’t mean that ALL the dangers are exaggerated. There really are harmful consequences from electromagnetic pollution, but they might not always be as bad as some people say they are. Still, whenever you feel like you can’t avoid something, and other people are in control of that, it makes you feel helpless. We individuals have no choice about whether or not we want to be constantly surrounded by electromagnetic fields. We can’t force them to shut off all their signals and their cell phones and their satellites and their radio towers and their telephone systems and everything else that causes us to be constantly immersed in radio waves. Whenever people feel helpless, whenever they are having a health problem, whenever they feel that somebody else is to blame for those health problems, then they will tend to exaggerate the dangers, hoping that maybe it will make somebody listen to them, make somebody take them seriously, because nobody will listen to you if you talk about the mild, low-level, non-lethal health problems that result from being immersed in radio all the time. We *do* have mild problems from it, and most people say ‘Oh well – get over it!’ if you tell them that you are having mild, chronic problems. Most people just don’t care about your mild, low-level, chronic health problems. There are people out there who *do* care about them and think they’re important – I do – I believe that we should do everything possible to increase our quality of life, and getting rid of mild, chronic ailments is how I want to do that. The majority of people don’t care about mild chronic problems and they don’t think that getting rid of those problems is crucial to improving our quality of life, and they don’t think that quality of life depends on being physically healthy.

I am not yet dead.

December 22, 2011

I am not as weak as I was yesterday. I will be able to go to work.

I had a sad dream this morning. I was dreaming about finding a husband before it was too late for me to have children. I had this idea in my head that I was aware of the existence of an IEE who I liked, but he was somehow unavailable or too good for me. I wasn’t thinking of Rick. I was thinking of a guy that my best friend and I had both had a crush on when we were in middle school and high school. I knew him so long ago that I knew it would be hard to find him, wherever he had gone. However, in reality, that’s not true, because I think I looked him up on facebook once and found someone I was pretty sure was him. But still, I would have to reestablish contact and start all over from the beginning, like it was a new relationship. I knew that time was passing quickly, and with every year that passed, I lost another child. I knew I had to hurry. So I thought I would have to compromise and just find an IEE of average intelligence, because those are much easier to find than highly intelligent ones. I would marry someone who I had only lukewarm feelings for, and I would be able to have children before it was too late. And I was remembering, in the dream, about trying to put up advertisements and get responses, and how I thought my email was being hacked and they were removing the responses that I had gotten, and how a bunch of people had ripped the tabs off my ads (the bookkeeping ad in particular) but only one person had ever actually emailed me, and nobody at all had ever emailed me for the ENFP ad. (I use Myers-Briggs terminology usually because I’m talking to Americans who don’t know socionics.)

So I had these obstacles which were not insurmountable, but which were difficult. I had thought that I would have to just put a time and place to meet me, on the ad, and I would just go there every week hoping someone would show up. I had done something similar to that in the past.

But all of the ads that I have written were written while I was manic. I was suggestible and was unable to think through the project to find out whether it was sustainable and whether it was in line with my true goals.

I still have the car, which means I will still have drug residue outbreaks. As long as I am in the car I will be affected. So I am not yet safe. Every project that I try will be influenced by the manic attacks.

The dream made me sad because I felt aware of how much time was passing, and aware that I might have to compromise and marry someone who I didn’t love passionately, in order to just find anyone at all before it was too late for me to have children.

I’m feeling a little less sick today. Over the next couple days I’ll be working, so I won’t get a lot done. But the next project I have to do is the project of finding a ‘house.’ ‘They’ always wonder why I use the word ‘squatting’ instead of ‘camping.’ I don’t know, actually. I know that I had read about squatters claiming property, years ago, and got in the habit of using the word ‘squatter.’ I don’t want to own property. I mean, I do, but in reality, I don’t want to be part of a property-owning system. Or if I did, I would want it to be in an intentional community where we would make our own rules about how the land was used. For example, I want corridors where grazing animals can travel and migrate long distances while they look for grass at all seasons of the year. I don’t want them to be trapped in my backyard. Corridors have to be wide enough that the animals in the back of the herd are able to find as much grass as the animals in the front of the herd, instead of going over grass that has already been grazed and trampled by everyone in front of them, in a narrow corridor. Still, a narrow corridor is better than no corridor at all. That’s just one example of how I want the land to be used.

I will continue ‘bemoaning’ Rick for a while (I’m not sure why the word ‘bemoan’ came into my head, but it was one of those words I used when I wrote stories as a teenager).

I just heard a car horn honk, and it sounded like an electronic synthesizer. That reminded me of listening to my Reason songs when I was in WV. I have them on a laptop. I wrote a few partial, incomplete songs several years ago. It made my heart ache to listen to them. Songwriting is postponed because I have other things to do, but I expect to do it in the future. The music that I want doesn’t exist, so I have to write it myself, because no one else can write it. It might actually be easier to write for acoustic instruments than it is to write on Reason, because with Reason, you spend a large amount of time tweaking buttons and knobs and settings, and you can get lost in that for hours without actually writing any songs, but with acoustic instruments, you have more of a chance to write because you have limitations on how you can use the instrument – it is what it is, it has its limitations, and you can’t tweak knobs and sliders for hours adjusting the way a violin is played – you have to just play it.

Then again, there are a million things I would do if I were immortal and if there were no time limits on anything. I would love to just keep learning and learning and learning. I enjoy learning ‘book knowledge.’ But I’ve restrained myself for the last few years because I need to learn things that will have an immediate beneficial impact on my life, for instance, earning me a higher hourly wage. If it doesn’t have an immediate beneficial impact, then I must sadly postpone learning about it, whatever it is.

I’m drinking a cup of coffee right now. I started drinking coffee again while I was in WV. I had gone most of my vacation without coffee, and was glad of it, but started having reactions as soon as I went home – long story – there are a bunch of things there that cause me to become lazy and dopey and sleepy – so I drank coffee to survive.

Nunavut, Canada: One of the last places on earth where it’s possible to live a completely primitive, self-reliant lifestyle without purchasing anything at all that requires money. You can hunt and fish for your entire lifetime, and when you get old, your tribe will continue to hunt and fish for you. I am interested in the Arctic Circle tribes. Not just Nunavut, but everything around the Arctic Circle. I was envisioning the Arctic as our future. I imagined a map where the Arctic Ocean was at the very center of the map, and all of the world was around it – you know how they sometimes make maps that are upside-down, with the Southern Hemisphere on the top, and all the words are written upside-down so that you have to read it that way, and it gives you a different feeling when you read the map – so the Arctic Ocean was the center of the world. And we would travel by boat across the Arctic Ocean when the waters were free of ice. It would be a new world trade pathway. The Arctic Tribes that surround the area would have contact with each other. Unfortunately, people will start moving in to the area and raising the population, and they will bring with them the culture of modern society, which will make it impossible for the Arctic Tribes to live their primitive ways anymore – all the land will be blocked by fences, preventing the grazing animals from moving around, and all the streams will be blocked by dams, preventing the fish from migrating. Before that happens, I want to see what it was like up there. There are still people there who are living the old way. They eat the Weston Price diet. They eat raw, uncooked internal organs and blubber from walruses and narwhals and other animals. Their faces are fully formed and they do not have dental malocclusions. (‘They’ gave the name ‘Ghetto Faces’ for the deformed faces of the unhealthy people in the modern world. That is a good name for them, so I’m going along with it.) I want to see what it’s like.

Rick goes hiking for many months out of the year because he needs something that he can’t find in the modern world. I’m trying to say that Nunavut is what he needs. He needs to know that there is someplace where it’s possible to *live*, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, without modern society, in a tribe of people who support you, a tribe of people who survive by hunting, without using any money at all (I’m guessing that actually they probably use some money and they buy some products from modern society, but primarily their way of life is primitive). I feel that Rick is trying to get something he needs by spending so much time hiking, but it isn’t just ‘hiking’ that he needs. You hike for a reason. People have always hiked for a reason. They follow the herds of migrating animals that they are hunting. People explore for a reason. They find other tribes and other cultures to trade with and to learn from. People instinctively do these things.

I haven’t looked at the other tribes around the Arctic Circle yet. There are some in Northern Russia, I think. There are also the Sami people in Norway or Sweden or whichever it is, and there are logging companies that are cutting down the trees where the Sami reindeer used to graze for lichen.

When I see this, I wonder what is the root of all evil? I don’t mean that there is one, and only one, root of evil. There are several roots of all evil. Drugs are one of the roots of all evil. Another root of evil is the modern banking system, the modern money system, which causes boom and bust cycles, and we’ve had the housing boom, which makes people want to go logging the trees in Sweden (or wherever) to build big, new, expensive mansions that will all get foreclosed upon.

Depending on how deep you go, you can say there are other roots of all evil. You can say that land ownership is a root of all evil, and you can be one of the anti-landownership anarchists. However, I’m not really sure about that, because in reality, there was some form of ‘tribal territory’ in the past even if they didn’t put fences around it and divide it into neat little plots the way we do now.

I’m convalescing. I’m drinking a cup of coffee. My head was hurting this morning from coffee withdrawal, because I was way too sick to drink coffee for the past day.

The Arctic Ocean is the center of the world, and we are all around it. It is the hot new place to be. The Arctic Ocean is ‘in.’ The Antarctic will come later. We’re going to live on the continent of Antarctica, but not yet.

I am walking death

December 21, 2011

Right now I’m trying to drink a little fruit juice. I’m sitting in the car next to the gas station, instead of drinking the juice while driving away, because I want to be able to run out there and throw up or have diarrhea or whatever will happen. I sipped water all day, and I also tried to eat a little bit of sugar – I have those packs of sugar that you put in your coffee – but the sugar made me feel nauseated. I want the juice so badly, but I won’t let myself drink it quickly.

All day long I just rested in my car. I was writhing and thrashing and whimpering. I kept kicking my legs and moving my arms around and moving my whole body while I was lying in the car seat. Everything was in pain and I couldn’t sit still. I was also being attacked by ‘them’ all day long while I was resting. For some reason they were bombarding me with hundreds of tiny little examples of times when I had used +Se (from socionics). I’m so weak that I can barely move. I haven’t had an illness like this in such a long time, I can’t remember being this sick. The juice is temporarily staying down, but I will continue to sit here by the gas station until I’m done drinking it.

I’m calling off sick on my first day back.

December 21, 2011

My entire body hurts. Every joint and every muscle is in agony. I am only barely just starting to drink sips of water again. I was so weak that it was a miracle I could get up to go plug in my phone, as its battery had run out completely and I couldn’t even call off work. So I had to get to the library, where I am now. I can barely sit up at this table. I have to wait a couple minutes for my phone to charge enough that I can use it. I am not going to be able to work today. I was hoping I could, but no.

I threw up

December 21, 2011

3:02 AM 12/21/2011

I haven’t thrown up since about 2001 or 2002.

I was driving home from my parents’ house, back to State College. I had heard somebody vomiting at a rest stop while I had been driving down to WV, and my window had been open, and I had smelled the vomit, but I was lucky and I did not catch the virus. If you are able to smell it, then you are able to inhale aerosolized virus particles, and it only takes like four or five individual virus particles to give you the virus.

Then, one of our neighbors was talking about having been sick. But I still didn’t catch it, even though we visited him. Then Dad said he had had diarrhea in the middle of the night, and he had a cold, but I still didn’t catch it.

Finally, on my last day, I started sneezing a lot like I was having an allergy attack – but I am pretty sure now that I was catching the cold.

I was driving home and my intestines were hurting a lot, but I thought it would soon be okay if only I drank some water; however, I really didn’t want to drink any water, so I just waited and waited while my intestines were hurting. Still, I thought that I would be fine. I normally don’t get vomit viruses. I will catch them slightly, but not badly enough to actually vomit, and they usually go away after a couple of hours without causing any major problems. So I expected this to be something like that, if it were anything at all.

I got almost all the way home. I got to Altoona, PA when I realized that I was suddenly becoming extremely nauseated in such a way that I had to take it seriously. I was in denial for a minute or two, but I realized that denial was no longer possible, so I pulled off the road and went to a little shopping center next to Altoona. First, I parked in the parking lot and I laid there and tried to rest, but I couldn’t. The nausea would get a little better, then get worse again. After I laid there for a few minutes, I turned the car back on and I drove around behind the building and I looked for a private place.

I wanted to throw up outdoors. I don’t like to throw up indoors and I would hate to do it in a public restroom. I get very angry at people who are discourteous enough to throw up in public restrooms. When they do that, the aerosolized virus particles remain in the air in the bathroom and I ALWAYS catch the virus, mildly, after walking into a bathroom where I can smell vomit. It’s best if you dash out the door to the outside as fast as you can. Don’t run to the bathroom, run outside. Throw up on the parking lot if you have to, but not in the bathroom. People will be able to see it and avoid it, and there is so much air and wind out there that the viruses will be blown away quickly and they will dissipate, preventing the spread of the virus. Bathroom ventilation is *never* sufficient to quickly pull out the viruses and the smell.

So I found a big ditch next to a hill. First I had to have diarrhea and I brought some napkins with me. The diarrhea triggered the intense nausea and it was so strong that there was no chance of resisting it. When I was young, I used to fight against the urge to vomit, for hours and hours and hours, because I was severely emetophobic. I’m still somewhat emetophobic, and I still try to fight, but this time there was no hope. This virus beat me. So I started dry heaving because I hadn’t eaten anything since about 3:00 in the afternoon, and it was then about 11:00 PM or so, maybe 10 something. I dry heaved like 5-8 times, but it wasn’t that bad. I don’t want to do it again, but at the same time, it wasn’t intolerable. The nausea got a little better.

Then I got back into my car, leaving the napkins out there with the diarrhea – it was a ditch where nobody would ever walk, so the stuff would disappear after a while without bothering anyone. I tried to rest in my car.

However, a security guard came along. ‘I’m sorry!’ I shouted out my window when his car parked next to mine. ‘I know I’m not supposed to be here!’ So I started explaining to him that I had pulled over because it was an emergency and I had to vomit. I told him the whole story. He said that he would get in trouble if he let me keep my car back here behind the building, and he told me to follow his car around to the front where it was more well-lit, and he showed me where I could park.

Then he got into a big conversation with me and told me that he loved long hair and he wanted to have a relationship with me. He said that he was 67 years old, I think. He said that he would like to brush out my dreadlocks. I told him I totally understood and sympathized with him, and that I was equally frustrated about all the women who won’t grow their hair long (and I didn’t mention anything about all the men). It should be such an easy, simple thing, but no one will do it, and their reasons for not doing it are stupid reasons. So many people are desperate for the sight of long hair, and cannot find it anywhere on this earth, anywhere.

He asked me bluntly quite a few times if I would like to be in a relationship with him, and he said that he would take care of me. He said that he was a straightforward person who liked to say things openly and directly. I told him that I was probably going to be moving away from State College sometime, perhaps soon. I said, ‘This might sound crazy, but… I’m looking for my soulmate.’ And I made a hand gesture with the fingers of both hands meshing together with each other, and I said I wanted us to get along with each other like that.

He wasn’t happy about leaving, but he did go. He recommended that I stay there for a while resting. I had said I was afraid to start driving again because I didn’t want to have another wave of the vomiting while I was driving in a place where it was harder to pull off the road. I had been in a good place when it happened. So he drove around for a while doing his duty, and came back to check on me, and talked with me for a while longer, during which time he requested several more times for me to join him in a relationship, and I said no, thank you, as kindly as I could say it.

He gave me directions to get to the hospital if I needed to, and I said I would be okay, it was only a stomach virus. He felt my forehead and said I had a fever. I said that fevers are good for you and they help you fight the virus, and I said that my father was a radiologist and my mother was a nurse, and they had told me that, a long time ago.

He asked if I would email him a photo of what my hair had looked like before the dreadlocks, when it was down to my hips and it was loose and combed. I said that I would do that. I hate this culture that deprives human beings of the sight of each others’ beautiful hair. Long hair should not be scarce, it should be ubiquitous.

He finally did go home. I laid back down for a while, and I think I might possibly have slept a little bit. It got cold and started raining, and I had to get into the double sleeping bag, which I was very glad to have with me. It would have been horrible to pull off the road to throw up, if I hadn’t been able to wrap up in warm sleeping bags afterwards while resting.

I woke up a few hours later. I hadn’t thrown up again yet. I felt slightly more stable. So I started up the car, and I drove the rest of the way home. It wasn’t very far. Altoona is pretty close to State College.

I have to go to work tomorrow at 2:00 PM. It’s now 3:29 AM.

I finished that phase of the project: I successfully emptied out the storage units, reduced the stuff and compacted it, and left it all in storage at my parents’ house.

Now I need to get rid of the car, and get a bicycle. I would like to add a motor to the bicycle the way my former co-worker did. I’ll attach a trailer to the bike, possibly, and carry my belongings. I’ll sleep someplace, squatting on someone’s land, hidden. I will write down my criteria for the location that I will choose.

When I am no longer using the car, I will no longer be exposed to significant amounts of drug residues, and I will stop having manic attacks. Only trivial amounts of residue will remain on the belongings that I am keeping.

I haven’t chosen any destinations yet.


December 18, 2011

Oh, and by the way, if anyone was concerned, no, this is not the S-word.  I choose life.  This is my way of solving a problem.  I know, I’m getting rid of my belongings and I’ve just recently been horribly rejected, but I’m not doing anything harmful to myself.  I sometimes worry that people might misunderstand.  If I ‘go someplace faraway,’ it will be a physical, geographic location on earth, someplace that living beings are able to visit, and I will be visiting it while alive.

Using Dad’s computer; obsessing and having reactions; continuing the discard project; obsessing some more

December 18, 2011

I’m in WV right now, and I can’t write a lot because I’m using Dad’s computer. I wrote a big blog on my own netbook, but have to wait till I get to a wifi to post it.

I’m reading Rick’s forum post about me again and it is very difficult to read. I can’t bear to read the things that I myself wrote – that’s the worst. While I’m reading this, I’m reminding myself that this is the reason why I’m throwing away the contaminated stuff. I won’t be so suggestible, so vulnerable to being controlled and forced to do horribly annoying things.

I started writing at, a new little forum created by a member of, but I’m not talking about socionics at the moment. There will probably be a time when I don’t care, and I’ll go ahead and talk about socionics, but right now, I still have this fantasy that Rick gives a shit about what I do, and he doesn’t like talking about socionics, so I’m doing the same thing. Whenever I realize that Rick doesn’t give a shit what I do one way or the other, then maybe I’ll talk about socionics again.

I’d say a lot of things that are on my mind, but I won’t be on this computer for hours and hours and hours.

I’ve sorted through a couple of bags of stuff that I’ve put in the basement. I have some stuff down there, and some stuff in my bedroom. There is not much room for it all, and I wasn’t completely finished going through it when I brought it all down here, so I’m finishing that now.

Maybe I will go somewhere extremely far away from where Rick is, and he’ll just continue to not even give a shit what I do, and won’t even notice that I’m gone. I have some ideas of weird places where I’d like to travel, places Rick hasn’t gone, with languages Rick hasn’t learned. The anti-Rick zones. If I get attached to any of those places, then I’ll be attached to something which is extremely far away from him. That won’t help – I’m already far away from him – but it’s the idea of it.

I’m doing this big discarding project so that I can stop having manic attacks, so that I can stop destroying relationships. I can’t stop hearing voices or being attacked, but I can make my behavior less annoying and less desperate by stopping the manic attacks.

I don’t know what I will have to do to disconnect from Rick. I have been forced to obsess over other people before, but Rick is actually worthy of my interest, and the others were not. I am still obsessing right now, and it is painful. I keep wanting to go read his pages, but I’m embarrassed to type them into the URL bar on someone else’s computer, because they will appear when people are typing in URLs and it autocompletes.

I’m here to end this contamination problem which has gone on for so long. There will be tiny bits of it, but they will be contained in boxes sitting here in storage which I will not be touching. I am being ruthless in my discarding. I am asking myself whether I really will care whether this or that object is gone. I’m not just getting rid of residue, I’m getting rid of unwanted clutter as well.

Can I actually imagine a life without the drug residues? This hell began in 1996. It has been an extremely long time. I should write a book about it. If those other people could write that other book which is similar to my situation, then I can write one too. It was called ‘Breaking Free From Environmental Illness’ or something like that.

My moods are going on right now because I started drinking coffee while I’m here – I was having fatigue from residues – and I’m handling all my stuff and having some reactions to it, and also to my parents’ drugs. My mom uses Paxil and my dad uses blood pressure drugs, and I am encountering residues of those, too. So I’m on secondhand drugs. (I keep wondering which drugs Rick uses. In the past he had been anti-drugs, but he might possibly have changed his mind sometime between now and then, I have no idea, I can only wonder whether he uses anything or not.)

I sort of want to describe the drive down here, but that’s a long story and it will keep me here a lot longer. I drove a large moving van with only a tiny bit of stuff in the back of it, and my car was being towed behind it. So I had to learn how to drive it. I’ve driven moving trucks before, but not with a car trailer on them.

Maybe I will just type his page into the URL box anyway.