Archive for March, 2012

Be careful not to click anything unless you absolutely have to

March 31, 2012

9:36 PM 3/31/2012

I can’t get on the McD wifi right now, and I can barely get a little tiny bit of another faraway wifi, but not very well, and it’s slow. The wifi says it’s on, but it won’t let me connect.

I did, actually, change the number of posts on the home page of the blog. First, I changed it to 999,999 (or whatever – I couldn’t see how many numbers were typed into the box) and then tried loading the page, but since I was using a faraway, slow wifi, it wouldn’t load. It might have made a decent April Fool’s joke, but I don’t like to do jokes, because they might be too annoying.

It probably wouldn’t have been so bad, actually, to load my entire 1,000+ post blog on one page, because I don’t put a Stock Photo by default on every single post like many other bloggers do. On WordPress, it’s traditional to insert a stock photo onto every single post, and if you do that, you’ll get listed in a more visible position on the ‘tags’ part of WordPress. But I dislike the stock photos, usually. Usually I just find the stock photos sort of boring and annoying, and they don’t add anything meaningful to the post, and I know that the person put them there only for the purpose of making their blog look ‘professional’ and getting them into the better position on the tags page. Sometimes I’ve seen one and thought that the blog was actually going to contain meaningful content having to do with that picture, but actually, it was just a fluff post. I had been google searching for pictures of igloos, and I wanted to see how to build one. I saw a really good picture in the google image results of an Inuit-looking man standing inside the igloo and placing the last keystones on the top, so I clicked on that picture, expecting to find a web site that talked in detail and gave a demonstration. But instead, it was some stock photo that somebody had picked up from somewhere, and the lady just happened to briefly mention something about igloos, and the rest of it was a fluff post.

Anyway, the purpose of putting more posts onto the home page was so that the Georgian guy can more easily reduce his number of site visits, without missing anything. He needs to check on me to make sure that I am not going dangerously crazy and threatening him or anyone he knows, and also, to see whether I have made any improvements in my life, and also, to see whether I ever do actually stop talking constantly, as I claim that I will whenever I get off the drugs and caffeine. He wishes to reduce his site view stats because he doesn’t want to do anything to encourage my celebrity crush. It wasn’t so bad before, whenever I didn’t yet have the feature that lets me see which countries are looking at the blog, but all of a sudden, they added that, and now, I’ve been talking all about it, my intense emotional ups and downs associated with the presence or absence of ‘Georgia’ in my list of countries, and how anxious I become after only a day or two without it there, and how absolutely delighted I am to see it every time it appears there again.

It is like a celebrity crush. It’s sort of like having a crush on a TV star or a member of a band, except this is an internet celebrity. It’s also different from that because we’ve actually talked with each other in the past, and there was a time when we weren’t such terrible enemies as we are now, and most people don’t get to talk to their actor/musician celebrity crushes. He actually somewhat valued my comments, and I can’t help remembering that, how I enjoyed the small amount of commenting and emailing that we were able to do before I was forced to completely destroy his trust.

He knows that I can’t help leaking everything he says to me onto the blog, at this point, which is probably one of the biggest reasons why he’s not talking to me at all.

The guy from the dating website, who I mentioned just recently, was emailing me every day with an email that just said ‘Hi,’ after I stopped answering. He didn’t just start doing this out of nowhere. In the beginning, I was manic when I first started talking to him. We actually had a couple of real emails back and forth, and I was actually going to try to meet him and go on a date. This is one of those extremely unnatural, extremely harmful things that I sometimes do while manic, things that lead other people on and hurt their feelings badly. I hate using the dating website, and, as I said, every time I’ve used it, I was manic, and it was completely unnatural. And I encouraged this guy to believe that I was going to meet him, and then, I got through the mania, and decided that I absolutely could not do this, so I stopped, but he still believed that I might, and he still had a false hope. Like him, I still have this memory of having talked with Rick in the past, and I remember enjoying the conversations, and I still have that false hope that maybe it would be possible to talk again someday. I can’t get rid of that false hope, based on a memory.

That is why I hate the mania: it makes me unreliable and inconsistent and untrustworthy. People have to have consistent moods and consistent behavior so that you know what you can realistically expect from them. I hate it the most whenever I start up some kind of project that involves other people, or else I make promises to people, or tell them that I’m going to do something, while manic, and it turns out later that I absolutely cannot do such a thing consistently, or I totally change my mind when I am no longer manic, and then I have to face all those people who are expecting something from me, and I have to tell them I can’t do it. I hate that the most.

So, according to this interpretation, Rick might be in a similar position. He really did talk with me in the past, but he didn’t know just how crazy I was going to become. I tried warning him about it. Some of my warnings might possibly have been in emails that got filtered and deleted, because, first, I told him to filter out my emails, and then I sent him a bunch more emails (after the filter might have been set up, if he did it) which contained more frantic warnings about things that I might possibly do. I was trying to warn him, and also to have a discussion with him about ‘What will we do if this happens?’ I wanted to make a plan, for instance, about how we would handle it if he ever got scared or angry enough that he felt that he needed to call the police. I wanted to try to avoid that as much as possible. That might have actually been in the filtered-out, deleted emails.

Anyway, I said he was in a similar position to the one that I was in with the dating website guy: I did, actually, talk to that guy in the beginning, but then changed my mind later. Rick did something similar, except that he changed his mind for a different reason – he didn’t suddenly change his mind because (like me) he stopped being manic, but instead, he changed his mind because the amount of harassment escalated to an intolerable level, and I wrote a letter to his wife during the worst of the mania.

I am trying to say that if that’s how he feels, I can sort of sympathize and see his side of it, because I was in a similar situation, and have occasionally (other times, not just in that one incident) had people who became obsessed with me, had crushes on me, were trying to contact me in email, etc, and I didn’t want to talk to them anymore.

I always talk about the negative interpretations, but there are positive interpretations too. I know that he actually has compassion for me. I often believe that he hates me and loathes me and wants me dead – I usually try to believe the worst. I am actually manic right now, and am able to admit that there are positive feelings as well. He would have compassion for me, and would want to know that my life was getting better. He might have some affection or admiration for me, possibly. He might be genuinely interested in reading about someone’s experiences with trying to live as a squatter instead of paying rent. He might see that we have some interests in common. I still don’t go so far as to openly admit any other feelings than that.

I had to add a disclaimer – ‘they’ keep bothering me and reminding me about this. I ‘joked’ a couple posts ago about how the thought of him in a romantic relationship with another man ‘made me want to stab myself in the heart.’ I never, never will do that, and I have to give that disclaimer, because I never even say those kinds of things, and I am very cautious about anything even resembling a joking threat to do harm to myself or another person, especially because of what happened the time when I got thrown into a mental hospital – I was writing letters to someone and I mentioned the s-word (having to do with self-harm) and that was the reason why the police came and knocked on my door and took me away. I learned not to use that word and not to mention anything at all that would sound the slightest bit violent or self-destructive.

(Tangent… I even become paranoid if I talk about my interest in learning how to hunt and kill animals, because I know (from my own attitudes) that a lot of people view hunting as a bad thing, a low-class thing, something frowned upon, and they would view it as a sign of potential violence. I personally have often felt that I don’t like hunters, and, for some unknown reason, almost every hunter that I have ever met in my entire life is a, please forgive me for saying such an awful thing, but, a stupid person, someone who I view as being stupid, someone who I view as being low-class, uneducated, inferior, and I don’t know why. Why is hunting associated with stupid people and low-class people? I don’t see high-class hunters or people I respect who are hunting. I don’t see people I admire who are hunting. I see, sometimes, people who are assholes, but intelligent. I don’t admire them either. It’s strange, there are people who write web pages that I’ve sometimes read in the past, people who talk about off-the-grid living, self-reliance, and other things that I am interested in, but I never could relate to it when they talked about hunting. I want to read someone who has chosen to hunt, but who has feelings that are similar to my own, a respect and compassion for the animals and a sadness about killing them, a conscious choice to accept the reality of death and killing, a desire to eat meat for nutritional reasons. This is sort of a cultural leap that I have to make, and it is a very big one. Vegetarians are usually viewed as the intellectually and socially superior people who are doing something spiritually noble. I want to see someone who has expressed the opposite view, that it is spiritually noble to choose to kill and eat animals, that it is an admirable choice, similar to how vegetarianism is viewed as an admirable choice. This tangent is getting too long. I’ve already written the next paragraph, and I’m inserting this in between.)

But it is actually true that I am struggling to understand and interpret his feelings for me. I read and reread the letters, looking at everything he said, looking at everything he ever said or did anywhere, to try to understand why he feels the way he feels about me, why he would say that he absolutely could not have any kind of romantic relationship with me, ever. That’s why I try to make myself believe he’s gay, or think of some other theory as to why it was impossible for him to love me.

So, anyway. He wants to balance the number of site visits to my blog. It is necessary for him to check on it once in a while to see if I am becoming dangerous or threatening. It is necessary for him to check on it to see if my life has gotten better, because he probably feels genuine goodwill towards me and perhaps some actual affection, admiration, or other positive feelings. But he doesn’t want to encourage me too much or to look foolish by visiting too often and making me think that he actually enjoys reading it. So I slightly increased the number of posts on the home page (after having reduced it from 999,999 or whatever that number was) so that he won’t miss anything if, for any reason, he has to skip a couple of days, and doesn’t want to click ‘older posts,’ and doesn’t want to click anything else or touch anything that would affect the stats on the blog.

In reality, I think that he can completely immerse himself in the blog, click whatever he wants, give me 200 page views per day, or whatever, and it would be a good thing, not a bad thing. But he is on the other side of the ocean, and if he would allow himself to enjoy a relationship with me in any way, or to need me in any way, he would feel just as frustrated by the distance as I am.

older posts

March 31, 2012

One of these days, I need to look at the WordPress options and see if there’s a better way to organize the archives of this blog, so that things are easier to find. That would be a good unsustainable manic project, and if I do it, it will probably annoy the hell out of everybody, because I know from experience that it’s extremely annoying when people change how their web pages function.  But I write so many thousands of posts that you have to click ‘older posts’ to get to something which is only a couple days ago.  I am an extremely prolific blogger, and the quality of almost all of it is very low.  It should be easier for people to skim through it to see if there is anything with any actual content anywhere so that they can know what’s going on.  And the Georgian guy wants to visit as infrequently as possible, just so that he can see, at a glance, whether I’m going crazy and maniacal again, so that he will know if he is in any danger from me.  But I can’t do anything right at the moment, and actually, I’m going to be late for work if I don’t quit blogging.  

 After I get into the tent and out of the car, I’ll be able to get into clean clothes and clean shoes, and there won’t be any more shoe-induced manic attacks. 

wet shoes; a possible misconception of the language exchange

March 31, 2012

1:44 PM 3/31/2012

I got my shoes wet today, so there’s going to be a manic attack over the next few days. I went up to the mountain and put a couple things into the tent – that’s how my shoes got wet. It’s leaking, but I can fix it. Everything in there is in plastic bags.

I was reading about the language exchange club, not Rick’s, but the one in Kiev that inspired him. I saw something that looks, to me, like a misconception, but this is hard to explain. And I just *had* to explain it right this instant, only minutes before going to work, because the manic attack is already starting.

They said that the ‘exchange’ concept means that, for instance, all the German groups will be on Wednesday, and all the English groups on Thursday, so that you can go to one group, and then ‘exchange’ your language on another day. You wouldn’t be able to go to different groups on the same day. This idea is only true if (and I don’t have time to explain – I’m about to leave) the same two people must exchange with each other. Why must it be the same two? Why can’t they both exchange with a third person? It’s like barter. It’s like, I give you chicken eggs, and you give me apples, and I have to eat the apples instead of giving the apples away to someone else. I’m not allowed to pass on the apples you gave me to somebody else who wants apples more than I do. Exchanges can happen between infinite numbers of different people and do not have to be between the same two. You could have ten different groups on the same day, all with different languages, and you wouldn’t expect to see the same person you talked with in one group on Wednesday to be at the ‘exchanged’ group on Thursday. They made it sound like an exchange was only possible if you happened to find someone who wanted to learn English, while you wanted to learn German, or whatever. That doesn’t matter. You don’t have to give anything to the other person. They can go find what they need in another group.

It’s hard to explain, and I’ll be late for work. Today’s unsustainable manic project was the idea to start looking around for language clubs. And I had this idea that one particular guy was in love with Rick, which made me want to stab myself in the heart (and I promise, I won’t do that), but then I investigated and I changed my mind, he probably is not. It would help me forget about Rick if 1. he was gay, completely and hopelessly gay, and faking his orgasms for the entire three or four years or however long he was with his wife, or 2. not necessarily gay, but in love with somebody else. I don’t know how guys would be faking their orgasms, but whatever, I told you I’m going to be having a manic attack, and it’s only going to get worse.

I should post this before I make things any worse.

Okay, they made me go look at something

March 31, 2012

And I can piece together, from what I read, that something is going on. Please, announce it more publicly than that. I can interpret, from those words, that something is going on, but I can’t be sure enough, and the ‘he needs me’ delusion might still be used. I can partially fight against the delusion when I know for sure that he is with someone else.

Why does he know for sure he would never love me?

March 31, 2012

8:00 AM 3/31/2012

It was ‘their’ idea for me to talk about my average number of posts per day, not mine. It was supposed to explain someone’s site viewing behavior. I’m still not sure whether it actually is that person or whether it’s hackers.

Whenever I say things that I imagine might hurt Rick’s feelings, I get really upset if he does anything that I believe had to do with it. Like how I was recently making fun of every little thing he did, and I mentioned something about a photograph. He changed his photo on one of his pages and I freaked out because I thought it was my fault and that I had made him embarrassed about his photo, when actually, it’s a great photo and there’s nothing wrong with it at all. It looks sort of like a drawing, the new one that he put up. Maybe somebody drew it for him. But I could write a big post describing all the things that I find physically attractive about him, from his photos, except that that’s not normal behavior for me, and it could only happen with the right combination of drug residues, hormones, and mind control. I always automatically assume the worst, that people find me repulsive, and so I don’t tell them that I think they’re attractive, even if there is something that I really like about them. I love his physical appearance and always enjoy looking at his photos. He has a variety of photos on many different pages.

I was rereading many of the communications that I had had with him, back when he was speaking to me. It is wonderful to find someone who is extremely verbose. In reality, when I am off drugs and not being controlled, I am much, much less verbose than I am in this blog. But I loved his very long letters. I could ask only a couple of simple questions, and get a long, detailed response, back when he did not see me as a danger to him.

I am still trying to understand why he says that he could never love me. I am thinking of times when I knew for sure that I would never love someone who was saying that they were in love with me. I hate using dating websites, but I have sometimes used them in the past. And some of them might be better than others. I used one that I’ve heard some people making fun of, and it’s a free one, not one that you pay for. The paid ones might be nicer. I don’t know. PlentyOfFish used to have a large forum with many topics, and they got rid of it, which really bothers me – I think that the forum was the best way to notice people who were good writers. You could actually look at topics you were interested in and talk to people there. However, the quality of the discussion was often very low – you could easily get flamed or spammed over nothing at all.

Anyway, that was a digression. I remember times when I knew that I wouldn’t love someone. Sometimes it would happen that somebody, often on a dating website, but also sometimes in school when I was young, somebody would get a crush on me and start telling me that they loved me. I would tell them that they could not possibly love me, because they barely even knew me, and they were just declaring this out of nowhere, usually when we weren’t even friends. If they adored me too much for no reason, and then started bothering me about it, I often would have the feeling that I knew, for some reason, that I would never be attracted to this person.

There is a theme that I hear in the voices in my head, and it started several years ago. It is a theme of ‘games’ and ‘seduction.’ Supposedly, there is this ‘belief’ that you are not supposed to show someone that you are attracted to them (and this is coming mostly from the voices – I haven’t actually read any of the seduction books, although I have glanced at a couple of seduction websites), and you are supposed to, instead, ‘play games,’ like insulting someone instead of complimenting them.

Whenever I knew that I wasn’t attracted to someone, in the past, it wasn’t merely because they had ‘shown that they were attracted to me.’ It was more than that. It was usually because I felt that they were intellectually inferior, and I felt bored by them. I would feel bored by the conversations with them, like they weren’t saying anything that was new to me, anything that stimulated my mind, any original thoughts of their own that I could value. I regret being mind controlled right now, because I am incapable of producing any deep, insightful, original thoughts.

One guy on the dating website became fascinated with me because I have a photo showing me lifting up my arm so that my armpit hair is visible. That photo is an older photo where I don’t have dreadlocks yet. I actually don’t believe that my dreadlocks are very attractive, and I feel that my hair was prettier back then. But I’m not doing the dreadlocks for the purpose of ‘looking good.’ They have other purposes and meanings and goals for me. Anyway, he loved that photo. I took it myself by setting the camera on a little shelf and making it automatically take a photo after a delay of a few seconds.

It bothers me that men are desperate to see women with body hair. I am well aware that it is extremely sexy, but the mainstream American culture, and the media, which is being broadcast around the entire world, shows women (and men) with their entire bodies completely shaved, and they are destroying all the other cultures around the world where people don’t shave yet. The goal is to sell razors. That is the one and only reason why we are being brainwashed to do this. Everything else is just a rationale that was added on later. So this particular type of sexiness is becoming more and more scarce all over the world, because of American media.

It bothers me that a guy on a dating website became obsessed with me over this. He started writing me a bunch of emails. However, I don’t know what drugs he was on, or whether he was writing while totally drunk, but all of his writing, in the letters and on his profile page, was so incoherent that I could barely read it. He had huge misspellings where I couldn’t even tell what word he was trying to type. He might have had some kind of mental disorder. After a while, to get my attention, he just kept sending me an email, every single day, that just said ‘Hi.’ That was all. He was bugging me so that I would respond. This was one of the times when I knew that I would not really love this person or enjoy the time I spent with them, because it seemed like he was intellectually inferior.

Every time I use a dating website, it’s because I am forced to do it, by ‘them.’ It is an ‘unsustainable manic project’ which will always be abandoned after a short time before I get any results. So, after a week or two of being visible on the site (I always hide the profile so it won’t show up in searches, when I’m not using the site), and getting letters from this unfortunate guy who is being deprived of the thing he finds attractive, by mainstream media and the razor companies, I just stopped using the site again. The guy would have noticed that his letters were not being opened and that I was no longer active on the site.

I just thought of something unfortunate having to do with Rick. Rick is a non-native speaker in the country where he lives now. It would be hard for him to find a native there and show her how intelligent he was, because he is only beginning to learn the language. He would be a good speaker at a beginning to intermediate level, but they would not know (at first glance) that he was actually very talented with language. They would have to be ‘someone who likes foreigners.’ I myself actually ‘like foreigners.’ I would use the word ‘xenophilia,’ the opposite of xenophobia. Anyway, it will be a while before he is experienced enough in Georgian that a native speaker will recognize him as being ‘one of them.’ He might be good enough now – he’s been working on it for months and months and months now.

(That’s why I said yesterday that I don’t like people who dress in camouflage and who want to go out into the world to kill foreigners. Oh, and by the way, after I took those photos of the turkey blind, ‘they’ pointed out to me that I had accidentally gotten the wrong one. I was trying to buy the smaller one. There were several on display in the store, but when you get them, they’re in a box, and the sales guy pulled the box out from underneath the small one that was on display, and I assumed that because the boxes were piled up underneath this small blind, they were the same kind it was, but no, they were the other kind that was on display next to it. So I got the big tall one that you can stand up in. There was a smaller one where you would have to crawl in. I didn’t even realize that I had the wrong one! I just didn’t care that much.)

Afghans are some of the most amazingly beautiful people on earth. They have these golden yellow eyes. The decision about whether or not to ‘kill foreigners’ isn’t based on ‘Are they beautiful or not?’ – the answer is just ‘no, don’t kill’ by default, regardless of what they look like. Even so, it seems even more tragic that the military is in Afghanistan and people want to kill them, when I see how amazingly beautiful and unusual and unique they look. That’s one reason why I love the Weston Price book, because it shows images of healthy people of many different races.

Last night, I was trying to imagine going someplace else and marrying someone and having children with them, and I was deliberately trying to imagine someone other than Rick, because the Rick obsessions is an artificial obsession that ‘they’ created. And I agree with the idea of being infatuated with this particular person, but if I weren’t being forced to obsess, I would have emotionally detached long ago. I wasn’t able to imagine being with someone else, because of the noise in my mind. I am simply not capable of thinking on my own strongly enough to overcome the mind control and to imagine being with some completely different person in a different place, taking ‘no’ for an answer.

Oh, that was the reason I was writing about all this. I was trying to understand why he had said that he knew, for sure, already, that he did not love me, and he would never love me, and it was impossible. He didn’t say, ‘If you lived here, and I could see you every day, in person, maybe I would be able to love you,’ or anything like that. He just said: absolutely not, never, he knew for sure. Why?

If I compare myself to the dating website guy, whose writing was so garbled that I could barely read it, who was on some kind of drugs or something, I assume, if I compare myself to him, I could say that Rick knows he would never love me, because I, too, have a mental illness.

(Disclaimer: Believing in the existence of electronic mind control is not a mental illness in and of itself. Mind control and nonlethal weapons are real. Mental illness is a physical illness. You can have some kind of mental problem that results from a physical illness, and also simultaneously get harassed by electronic weapons. I am claiming that I myself have physical illnesses that strongly affect my mental functioning, and also, that I am simultaneously being attacked by people using electronic weapons. I *do* have mental illnesses. I can improve the symptoms of some of them, and I have partial control over some of them. Other things are weaknesses and vulnerabilities that I will probably have for the rest of my life, such as chemical sensitivity.)

However, at the time when he said that to me, in email, that he would never love me, I hadn’t yet done all the extremely annoying and abusive things to him, and I had not yet written the letter to his wife, with the delusional mistyping in it (being forced to believe that she was a SLE instead of a SLI).

I think he was looking at this blog all the way back then, and he saw, from the very beginning, the ridiculous poetry that I was forced to write: Whenever I am being mind controlled, and forced to get a new obsession on someone, I often get forced to write a ridiculous and awful poem about that person. I do not do this of my own free will because I want to. I do not do it because I am in love. It is the mind controllers’ way of forcing me to announce to the world that I have a new crush. It is not a natural behavior.

I did one of those awful poems shortly after I started talking to Rick, and I also did something similar earlier with another forced obsession from several years ago. I was leaving comments on Rick’s blog, but my comments were disappearing, and I don’t know if he had a chance to look at my Blogger profile to see where it links to this blog, but it does. If he was able to ever look at that profile, he could have looked at this blog long ago, although, as I said, the comments were disappearing and he said he wasn’t deleting them (back then, although he was deleting them later). They didn’t disappear if I wrote comments from other computers instead of the one at home. So, if he were looking at my blog back then, he would have seen the horrible poetry, and that would be the reason why he decided that I had a ‘romantic interest’ in him. He was telling me that it would have been okay just to email each other and not have a personal relationship, but I kept overstepping my bounds and being creepy. (those were not his exact words, that’s a paraphrasing, with a couple of his words in it.)

I was thinking that if Rick had a new girlfriend (and I have no idea whether he does or not), or, a boyfriend, whatever he needs, then there would be no point in my going to see him. I might be able to go wherever I want to go and emotionally detach from him. He should do what his wife is doing, find some person, put his arm around them, and take a picture of themselves and put it on his facebook page. He shouldn’t keep it a secret.

It was true, he said that the ‘news’ would be fuel for a long-distance infatuation, and the news turned out to be that he was separating from his wife, at least temporarily, and then it turns out that she is with some other guy, at least temporarily. That piece of news did actually get me very upset and re-motivate me to want to go see him. When I still believed that he was in a relationship, I was able to partly fight against the forced obsession, and I was able to imagine myself going somewhere else and detaching from Rick, and I would feel like he didn’t ‘need’ me in any way at all. Now that I know that he is (possibly) alone, I’m able to use the ‘He needs me’ delusion as an excuse, as fuel for the obsession. I call it a delusion, because actually, he is very sociable and is always meeting new people, and doing activities, and he has a much better chance of meeting someone and falling in love than I do, because of that. I am completely isolated, and I only talk to people I work with. I don’t meet anyone. He can easily meet someone near him. He’s surrounded by dozens of females all the time in his language group. Why aren’t they falling in love with him and getting into a relationship with him? Or, why isn’t he letting them?

I’m making up this theory that the ‘drawing’ style photo is a drawing that somebody else did, and gave it to him, and the person who did the drawing is somebody important. But still, I should see some announcement that they are together. Then the ‘he needs me’ delusion won’t be believable anymore.

That was something I always loved about Rick. If you asked him to clarify something, if you asked him for more information about something, if you didn’t understand something, he would tell you more explicitly, in more detail, about it, about whatever was behind something he had said. Why does he know for sure that he would never love me?

i have to fix that later

March 30, 2012

Miscellaneous topics, and, Photos of the tent and the bike

March 30, 2012

I think my main page shows ten posts. If I write three posts per day on average, assuming I’m not going through one of my hugely prolific phases of writing one tiny little post about every little thing, then it’s possible to visit the blog a minimum of once every three days or so, before the posts start appearing on the next page of the blog, which would cost another ‘site view.’

I stumbled upon something, and one thing led to another, and I saw something that I didn’t know yet. My first major boyfriend, Terry, in high school, told me that he had something which he described as an ‘inside-out breastbone.’ The middle of his chest was slightly sticking out, but I could barely see it, and I wouldn’t have known it if he hadn’t told me it was there. I am always talking about preventable deformities and the Weston Price research, but some are genetic too, and I don’t know anything about that particular one. Maybe some genetic deformities are able to made slightly more severe or less severe.

I should probably go visit Rick for the purpose of giving him the chance to punch me in the face. If he hates me as much as I hate my own hackers and stalkers and harassers, then he probably is frustrated that I am so far away. And no, I am not a hacker, and I don’t know how to read what’s on people’s computers, and I don’t want to know, and I’m not going to learn it or download any software anytime soon. But he could possibly hate me as much as I hated them whenever they were first harassing me years ago.

I was just rereading the first emails he sent me back when he was still talking to me, and I reread the forum incident. It is humiliating to read, and I have to skip over the parts where I’m reading my own letters that I have written, because I can’t stand to see that crap. I cannot read my own things that I said. I can only bear to read the things that he wrote.

My stomach has been slightly sick for no reason for about four days now. I can’t really eat normally. It’s frustrating.

I took pictures today, which is a sure sign that I am having a drug reaction, because I hardly ever take pictures whenever I’m off drugs. There seems to be a smear on the lens of the camera. It could have been water, I don’t know.

My stuff is camouflaged. I usually strongly dislike camouflage. I dislike the military, and often, I dislike people who hunt, though not always. I dislike a lot of the attitudes and culture that I associate with them. It’s the military that I dislike the most. And I almost always dislike people who are wearing camouflage. So when I see this, in this photo, it makes me feel that feeling of dislike. I imagine there’s a soldier in there who wants to go out into the world to kill innocent foreign people. And I am not like that at all, just the opposite, but this tent is mine. I have my reasons why I have chosen to use camouflage. I am probably not supposed to be camping here. They might not mind if I camped there for a couple nights, but I’m going to try to stay there a while. I forgot to shrink the pictures, so if you happen to click on them, they’re huge, and they might take a while to load. I’m at work, so I don’t have time to do anything to them.

Wow, I ran out of time on my lunch break. I thought I had more time. I couldn’t eat anything. I just drank a little bit of a milkshake.

thinking backwards about selling the car

March 30, 2012

10:50 AM 3/30/2012

This was probably because I had a drug reaction last night, but I was thinking of my plan from the end and working my way backwards, and that seemed to be very helpful. I imagined that I had just sold my car to someone, and had handed over the keys and the title to them, and now I had to ride a bus (or something) to get back home to my camp and my bike and my job.

So then I had to imagine what was just before that. I would have already cleaned everything out of the car. I would have taken it to a car wash and cleaned the outside and inside as much as possible, although it’s not possible to remove drug residues from the carpets – believe me, I’ve tried, many, many, many, many times, and they do not come out.

I imagined I was selling the car for parts, without fixing the crushed back end from the accident, which has been broken all this time, since, I think, October 2010. It was way over a year ago, and I’ve had it uninspected all this time. I cannot bear to just give the car to the people to destroy it, but I could bear to sell it for parts. I would want to explain that it was contaminated with drug residues, but nobody would be capable of understanding that until after they had experienced it. They would not know just how severe and life-ruining a curse this is. They would take it lightly, as people always do. And whenever they began having the life-ruining symptoms, such as weeks and weeks of incurable insomnia that causes them to lose their jobs and go crazy, they will believe that all they need to do is go to the doctor to cure it, when, in reality, they need to throw away every belonging that they own, including the accursed car. But I can’t bear to just have the car destroyed. But they will have gotten in and out of the car with their shoes on, and walked into their houses and left drug-covered footprints on all their carpets. I know this will happen.

I would give them the car for free, except it’s illegal to give away cars for free in Pennsylvania (we tried). You have to sell it at the official ‘blue book’ value, and then give the taxes to Pennsylvania. My dad tried to sell me the old truck for $1 (just a symbolic ‘sale’), but we weren’t allowed.

So I would have pretended to detail clean the car, knowing that it was futile, but at least it would ‘look nice,’ with less visible dirt than before. It would still be contaminated with a life-ruining curse. I would be driving around in it after cleaning it, but I would have to sit on a temporary seat cover. All my stuff would be at the camp. I would have a backpack on with other stuff that I wanted to keep with me all the time. I would be (supposedly) riding the bike instead of using the car, but in reality, I will probably keep using the car until it’s gone. However, it would be best if I didn’t sleep in there. I should start sleeping at the camp.

So I would be sleeping at the camp, and leaving my car parked at the parking lot where I’ve been sleeping all this time. Once, when I first began sleeping in my car, I saw a car that was parked there for weeks and weeks and weeks that did not move. Nobody towed it. So I know I could leave my car there undisturbed. However, I would pretend to move the car around from place to place, just so that the street sweepers would know that it was still occupied. They are the only people who might notice that a car had been left there for months. So I would visit the car and just move it to a different parking spot every once in a while.

I would have moved all my stuff up to the camp. Maybe I would do this at nighttime. There are three houses at the end of the road where the trail begins. They would notice a car parked there after dark. I might risk it. I would carry bags of stuff up the hill, one after another. Maybe I would get tired and give up, and work on it again later. I would gradually empty out the car.

I would have some cardboard boxes in the tent. My bags would go into boxes. The boxes would be stackable. I’d still have stuff in trash bags, trying to protect it from rain. I have it in trash bags now to protect it from residues. I’d put it into clean bags. I’d have saved the cardboard boxes from McDonald’s. I’d get rid of anything I didn’t need.

I’d have fixed the floor of the tent, using the vinyl – hopefully that will work. It has to protect the floor from rain. The tent is open on the bottom – it’s just a blind, not a completely enclosed tent. I have an image of how I will do that, but I might do it differently in reality. The vinyl floor will be ready for me to stack the cardboard boxes on.

I would only have to make a trip up there to work on setting up the vinyl. That is where I am now. So I worked backwards from the end, to where I am now.

There are some details left out, such as, how will I get food. Food will be a problem. I will have to start doing things that are difficult. I will also worry about bears. There are very few bears around here, but they do exist, and they are seen occasionally, and once in a while, people have ‘incidents’ with them. So I would need to think about how to safely eat and keep and discard food and trash in a place where the bears might smell it. I would need a weapon. I don’t want to wake up terrified in the middle of the night, hearing the sound of an animal wandering around outside my tent.

It helped to work backwards. The only reason I was able to think like that was because I was having a severe drug reaction last night.

I wish I could build a shield, too, but that’s a whole separate project, and it has to wait.

I’m scared of thunderstorms. And also tornadoes. I won’t like sleeping in a tent in a thunderstorm. I will want to be deeper under something. I might like sleeping in a tiny little cave made of rocks. There are lots of rocky areas where I could get rocks on the mountain. I could build a tiny little shelter of rocks so that I would feel (magically) more secure against lightning, even though, in reality, I guess it’s possible that lightning could strike a pile of rocks, too. I probably cannot dig a deep hole, but I can dig a very shallow depression into the ground. I will encounter too many rocks if I go deeper than a few inches into the ground. So I might build some kind of little storm shelter with rocks and a hole in the ground. Yes, I know, the rain will go into the hole even worse than something that was elevated. I will have to do something about that. It depends on how I design it. I could slope it. It could be an upward-pointing cave into the mountain, except that I cannot dig anything that deep, not for real. I’m not using dynamite, or jackhammers, or anything else that could cut through rock.

It helps to think backwards from the goal to where you are now. However, I will probably never be able to use that technique again. I was more alert than usual with the drug residue reaction. When I’m on drugs, I can think faster, which means that I can think more thoughts per second, before the murderers zap me. Their zapping pattern is intermittent. There is a constant, unavoidable background noise, which is there all the time, but then, on top of that, there are also periodic blips that completely and totally destroy all thought, but those do not happen constantly. You have to think a bunch of thoughts as fast as you can before they murder you.

I’d like to go spelunking, but all caves are always ‘public property,’ never just a secluded little cave that nobody knows about. Everyone always knows about them, and somebody often charges money for you to go into them. I’d go into a cave and find out how badly I got zapped when I was underground. I’d have to sit for a long time and meditate in there while being left alone, so it’s not something I could easily do while on a ‘guided tour,’ like they have in all the caves around here, which I visited (with you, Eric!) years and years and years ago. I went on a glider ride, too, back then. That was back when I was free, and I liked to try things and explore things, before they destroyed me.

This is sounding very negative. It was meant to be positive. I actually feel like the goal is achievable whenever I think of it backwards.

Turkey blind is up; and I saw a Real Bee

March 29, 2012

5:45 PM 3/29/2012

I went up the mountain today and set up the camouflaged turkey hunting blind. I had my original tent set up in a place between where two trees had fallen. The roots of the trees had torn up the soil. I was in between the two torn up roots, in a little sheltered spot, with a tree trunk on one side. Today I dug in that soil, which was already loose, and I flattened it so that I could lie on it. I removed the vinyl tent for now.

It was hard to set up the turkey blind. You’re supposed to be able to pull on the top of it, and then pull out the sides, one by one. I was too short, and my arms were too short, to do this. I could pull it up, and it was heavy, and then I couldn’t simultaneously pull the sides out till they snapped. So I got inside it and pushed it out from the inside, but parts of it kept getting folded out the wrong way, and I had to get everything right side out first. But finally I got one of the bars to snap, and after I figured out how much force it took, and how it felt, I was able to figure out how to snap all the other bars into place. So now I have it set up. From outside, it looked like a little spaceship or something to me. I put the vinyl tent underneath it and left it there. It’s just a pile of vinyl, with staples connecting parts of it together. I will decide later how I will use the vinyl. I will probably use it as the floor. I just got too tired and hungry to continue working on it.

Then, just as I was leaving to go down the mountain, I saw a Real Bee. It was black and yellow striped. It was flying around near the ground, and it landed, and then I turned and ran away quickly. Then I stopped and froze, looking to see if any bees were swarming around, but there weren’t any. I thought I could jump into the turkey blind if I had to. So I stood there frozen for several minutes, and looked back where the Real Bee had been. Then I decided that I had to walk right through the place where I had seen the Real Bee, and look around very carefully to see if there was a nest. But I saw nothing, and I didn’t even see the Real Bee there again. But still I took one step at a time, very slowly, scanning my eyes around to look for swarms. There was nothing. It might have been hunting for a place to make a new nest. It might have been alone, but there is no such thing as ‘just one bee.’ There are always more bees.

So, as I expected, I will be constantly battling bees whenever I’m living in the tent, and I will have to find some good way to do that. I will observe them carefully to see where they go, and then I will decide what to do about them. There might be ways to deter bees without having to kill them all or get into a huge war with them.

Spiders are bad too, but you can run away from a spider and it won’t chase you. And they usually appear only one at a time, or maybe a couple at a time. They are terrifying if you wake up in the middle of the night and see one hanging over you while you’re trapped in a small space. That might lead to screaming and thrashing and throwing things around and jumping up and flapping your blankets and making a commotion.

I woke up with a spider over me in my car once. I don’t know how it got into the car. It must have fallen from a tree that I was parked under. It was hanging from the ceiling right next to the windshield, and it was moving its legs around in the middle of the night, with the streetlight shining behind it. I tried to kill it, but I never saw where it went, and I looked in everything, everywhere, in the car, trying to find its body, and I never found it. That was one reason why ‘they’ suggested that I use clear vinyl, because I could see if anything was in the tent. And, as I said, I thought it would be transparent and hard to see from a distance, but that wasn’t so – it was reflective enough to look white from a distance. So I’m using the turkey blind now.

My bike is covered with a camo net, and even though I did a hasty, sloppy job, leaving parts of it not completely covered up, it’s still hard enough for me to see that I was standing right next to it and I kept overlooking it, and at one point, I glanced at it and thought, ‘What’s that weird looking thing?’ because it was this bluish, irregular object. The bike is blue, under the net. So the camo net works well even though it is a sloppy job.

Reading about the arctic; planning my next projects

March 29, 2012

10:55 AM 3/29/2012

I felt like looking at Weston Price again, now that I’ve been mentioning it (it’s buried in the middle of several book-length monologues) and linking to it online. Then I started reading about igloos, and about Blonde Eskimos (or Copper Inuit), a group of people who look like Scandinavians, and who use copper, who probably got there whenever the Vikings traded with the Inuit a long time ago.

This violates my ‘use the simplest local materials possible’ rule, but it’s beautiful. There are a bunch of glass igloos all glowing with light.

I was also looking at pictures of ulu blades, the all-purpose woman’s knife used for skinning animals, cutting hair, cutting food, and cutting blocks of snow for igloos.

I think I just found out why QuickPress keeps deactivating my links. I keep forgetting to close the quotation marks. I’ll write < a h ref = (quote) ht tp: // blahblah. com <(slash)a > without closing the quotes at the end. I did that several times right now.

This is my midlife crisis, all the strange stuff that I’ve been doing, living in my car, getting a bike again, trying to transition to using only a bike, living in a squatter camp, being fascinated with the primitive lifestyle, and wishing to go live in a faraway place as a hunter-gatherer. My dad had a midlife crisis too. I’m reading about the midlife crisis in Wikipedia, and they think that not everybody has one, just some people. I totally agree that this is related to culture, and that there are some cultures that make you live an unsatisfying life for a very long time, which is what causes people to have to question everything.

I’m aware that I have a lot more left to do. It is an overwhelming amount of stuff that I have to do. I have to get rid of the drug residues. I want to remove my dental fillings. I want to save money. I want to become financially self-supporting to a greater degree so that I can support children, and there are many different ways that I could go about doing that. I need to find the father of my children, and I don’t know how long that will take, assuming that it has to be a man whom I don’t know yet and have to go find. (I’m trying to be realistic by assuming that Rick actually does loathe me and wants nothing to do with me.) I would have to bond with that person all over again, and tell them about my strange life, and find someone whose values were similar to mine, so that they would want to live the same way that I want to live. And if they don’t want to live the same way that I do, then we would have to live separately and he would have to be only a ‘sperm donor.’

I don’t know how much time I have left for this. And every project that I do is extremely hard and extremely slow and inefficient and time-consuming, like fighting with a corrupt bureaucracy to get your government paperwork approved.

I know that I have to. There are limits to how much I can do and how quickly. But I am going to do what I can with whatever time I have left.

I’m not sure why the polar regions fascinated me. I’ve written about this before, but, a long time ago, when I was a young teenager, I was reading my mother’s and father’s ‘Time Life Series’ of books in the library closet. I read about many different geographic regions. I also went through a phase where I decided that I was going to read through the entire stack of National Geographic Magazines cover to cover, and we had saved a rather large stack of them. I didn’t have to read every word carefully, I just had to skim. So I did that, during one of my summer vacations from school.

And I remember how I felt when I read about the polar regions. I don’t know why they made me feel that way. There is this feeling of beautiful loneliness. It is cold and barren and sad, but the people living there seem to be healthy and happy and to have a supportive community. And I love the sun, and the warmth, and the spring, and I love seeing the flowers and the buds on the trees right now, and all of those things would be gone in the barren plains of the Arctic, or the Antarctic. I don’t know why I would ever feel drawn to such a place. It would seem almost masochistic, to want to go someplace where you know for sure that you will never have a nice, warm, enjoyable day outdoors in the sun. They do have warmish days, but it’s about 50 degrees Fahrenheit, if I recall, at most. Maybe it’s because of the extreme isolation, the total lack of skyscrapers and highways, the fact that nobody else wants to go there. Maybe it’s because it’s so different and so extreme that I’ve never ever seen such a thing before in my entire life, and I want to experience it.

And now, after all that I’ve read and all that I’ve learned, it’s also because I hate so many things about the modern lifestyle, and I want to live ‘off the grid,’ someplace where I don’t pay rent or taxes to anyone, but also, I am responsible for my success or failure at getting food and shelter and tools. The dangers are deadly, and I don’t know what they all are.

But a long time ago, people sailed in primitive, ancient boats, and they crossed the Bering Strait, and they also crossed the Northwest Passages, and they traveled from both Europe and Asia, and they came to America. They were able to do so many things that I cannot do, but they did them with so many fewer resources than I have. They didn’t have all these modern metals and plastics and chemicals and factory-produced tools.

But they also did not do great things that were recorded and remembered in history books. If you desire greatness, you cannot be a primitive. A primitive is an unknown person, someone remembered only in the local community. The rest of the world doesn’t know much about what you did. If you’re a primitive, you won’t become the dictator of a country and interact with world leaders in global politics.

I wouldn’t isolate myself completely from the internet. I’d still want to be connected to the rest of the world.

It seems impossible to do all that I have to do, while being slowed down by all of my obstacles, handicaps, misfortunes, and attacks. I can only do a few small things at a time. Today, I’m going to sit down for a while and I’m going to make a plan. I’m going to plan out how to transition from the car to the bike and the camp. I will plan out how much it will cost and how much time off work I will need, and I’m probably going to compromise by doing, perhaps, one day a week of work, instead of being completely on vacation. There are several subprojects that have to be done, and I’m tempted to lump everything together into one big vacation, but I will probably have to settle for just getting, perhaps, one big thing done at a time, slowly and inefficiently. So I will write down what I think each of the subprojects will require, separately. It’s scary whenever I look at how long it will take, when I try to be realistic about it, when I think of how much it would cost to buy this or that, or to go several weeks without working and to have to continue buying food and gas for those weeks. Other people seem to achieve so much, so easily, so quickly, and for me, one tiny thing is a huge achievement. I’m like the size of an ant compared to other people, lifting up a tiny crumb and moving it from place to place.

So, that’s what I’m doing today, planning.

I got my bike, and I got a different tent, and I took the bike to the camp, and I rode the bus back to my car.

March 28, 2012

8:12 PM 3/28/2012

I was scared to do all the things that I had to do today.

When I woke up, it was cloudy and it had started to rain, and there were a few bolts of lightning too. I thought for a minute that I couldn’t do this today if it were raining, but then, I just had a feeling that I would be able to do it anyway. I didn’t think the rain would last long. And then I checked the weather, online, and they said that the rain would probably be ending around noon.

I needed to get more bottled water, because I was planning to fill up the water bottles and bring them in my backpack so that I would have water while riding the bike. When I was about to go into Wal-Mart to get the bottled water, I looked across the parking lot and saw ‘Sportsman’s Liquidation,’ and decided to go see what was in there. So I bought a camouflage blind for turkey hunting, which I will use as my tent, at least temporarily. I want something which is quick and easy and which is also camouflaged. If I had lots of time, I would build my shack out of natural materials, but I never have time, not yet. The trashy looking vinyl tent is still there, but I will take it down and use the vinyl some other way. It’s too visible. I thought it wouldn’t be very visible because it’s clear, but from far away, it doesn’t look clear at all, it looks white. So I have this turkey hunting blind now.

Then I went to the parking garage and I wrote a checklist of everything I would need to put in my backpack. The backpack is new – I just bought it the other day. I haven’t worn a backpack in years. I had a hard time stuffing my bike helmet into the backpack, but I got it.

Then I walked out of the parking garage and walked down the street to the bike shop. I felt dorky and self-conscious. I don’t usually wear a backpack, so I was very aware of it. Some guy holding a big sign asked me something about voting for the Penn State Something-Or-Other people, I forget what, and I was confused, and I said, ‘Oh… I’m not a student.’

I got to the bike shop, and it wasn’t very far from the parking garage. I thought that it was a long way off. I had planned everything in advance, and I had looked up possible bike routes on Google Maps. It looked like it was going to be extremely hard. I was afraid. I thought all the walking distances would be extremely long. I was planning to take the bus at some point, but I didn’t know how to use the bus, because I had only ridden it once or twice, just for fun, in the past, many years ago. I didn’t know how to ride my bike through the middle of town where all the cars drive – I usually have ridden my bike on streets with very few cars. So I had planned everything and brought all this stuff in my backpack and written a checklist because of how scared I was.

I got the bike, and I tried it out, just pedaling it around the block. Some other guy on a bike went past me and gave me the thumbs up and a big grin, and I grinned back at him and kept going. I was really nervous about riding the bike. It’s too big for me, actually, and I know I won’t be keeping it forever – I will eventually sell it and get a bike that’s better for me. I got it too impulsively, and decided to just go ahead and finish getting it, and learn from it, so that I would know exactly what I needed to get for my next bike. I haven’t ridden a bike in maybe over ten years. So I had to figure out how to use the gear shifts again, figure out which one went up and which one went down. I gradually got comfortable enough to try riding it where I wanted to go, instead of wandering leisurably around the block where the bike shop was.

So I went down the sidewalk. I didn’t ride on the street. When I crossed the road at an intersection, I got off my bike and pushed it across the road. Then I got back on, rode down the sidewalk some more, and pushed it across the next intersection. I was too scared to ride in the main part of the road with the traffic. Plus, it’s a mountain bike, so it can’t go as fast as a street bike. So I got through most of the town by riding on the sidewalk. I chose a less-busy street, and there weren’t many cars, and there weren’t many people on the sidewalk, so it wasn’t like I was barrelling down the sidewalk through crowds of pedestrians.

I got out onto the main road where I wanted to go. It actually had not been very far and it had not taken very long. Once I got out onto the main road, there was a shoulder that I could ride on the whole way there.

I found that I didn’t want to stop riding my bike. I didn’t want to just go directly to the mountain and put the bike away. I wanted to go down the bike path to Spring Creek Park. So I went there. And I was remembering something that I had felt a few days ago. I had been at Spring Creek Park, and I had driven there with my car, and I was sitting in my car, eating. I had seen a guy on a bike, and I had this feeling of mysteriousness, of envy, this feeling that he was able to go places where I couldn’t go, and was living a kind of life that I wasn’t living, and was going down secret pathways to secret places that I had never seen. Today, I rode my bike down that same path, and I was in his place, and I knew that I had seen what he had seen.

Then I turned around and I went back up the hill, to the mountain. It was extremely steep, extremely slow, and extremely long. I was riding the bike at walking speed. Eventually I got off the bike and pushed it. I went through Lemont and up the roads that lead to the trails on the mountain.

The whole time, while I was exhausted, pushing my bike, stopping to drink from the water bottles, I was thinking to myself, ‘I’m not doing this because I want to. I’m doing it because I have to.’ I imagined that people might see me, riding my bike, as they drove past me in their cars, and they might think that I was going up this hill for fun or for a challenge. But no, I am doing it because I live here. I was able to do this extremely difficult and exhausting thing because I knew exactly where I was going and exactly why I was going there.

I got to the trail, and I couldn’t ride my bike up it. It starts off really rocky. The trail is the stream. When it’s been raining, the water runs right down the trail, in the beginning. So I pushed the bike up the rocky part, and rode it a little bit when it got to a flatter part.

Then I had to go off the path into the woods. Again, this was a very scary thing. I was constantly looking at the ground… for bees. I had seen lots and lots of bees active today, hundreds of them, swarming into holes in rotten trees, flying around everywhere. But it turned out that there weren’t any bees in that part of the woods. The bees were all around the manmade areas, the houses and the yards, but not in the woods. There might be some, but not as many. But I was looking at the ground, back and forth, on each side of me, and there were these swarming gnats that kept scaring me, flying around my face, and I could see them moving and thought they were bees. And there were flies, just ordinary little green bottle flies, flying around me, landing on my skin and dabbing me with their little suction cup tongues, and I thought they were bees too, but after a few minutes, I started to relax and get used to them all, and stopped thinking that everything that moved was a bee.

I tied up my bike to a tree and put the camouflage net over it, and left it there. I’m going to trust that nobody does anything to it. If they do, oh well. There are things that I have lost, and there are things I am willing to lose, and I am willing to take risks. I don’t want to lose my belongings, if someone comes up there and steals things or gets rid of it because I’m not supposed to be there. But everything that’s really important, I will keep with me, or keep hidden.

Then I had to walk all the way down the mountain, without a bike. It took a long time. I passed a couple of women who were outside an apartment house. I’ve always said that Lemont felt like my kind of place, that it was the only part of State College that I really liked, that I had sometimes seen ‘my kind of people’ in Lemont. One of these women had just gotten off her bike, and the other woman asked her about the bike, and said, ‘Is that a custom frame? It looks like a custom frame.’ (How do you recognize whether a bike is custom made or not? Where do you go to get a custom frame?) The other lady said ‘Yeah, it is. I really enjoy riding it. What kind of bike do you ride?’ And both of the women had the slightly deep, alto voices that sounded exactly like my own voice, and I thought both of them might even be SLIs. It was their way of talking.

I was looking for a bus stop, but I didn’t really know how to ride the bus. I didn’t know how often it would come, or which one went where. I vaguely knew where some of them went. But I knew that they all went back to the center of town, where my car was parked, and that was where I needed to go, so I didn’t care which bus I got on.

But I’m not used to looking for buses or trying to get to a bus stop before the bus gets there. I have had my own car all these years, and so a bus is just another vehicle to ignore. I was walking casually along the road, and a bus went by, and I just looked at it indifferently, and then I was like, ‘Oh, yeah! I’m supposed to be catching a bus!’ I got to a bus stop, and looked at the time, and decided I didn’t want to wait that long, so I started walking towards town. I missed several other bus stops. Eventually, I got tired enough that I really would rather ride the bus than walk. So I waited.

But I was on the wrong side of the street from the bus I needed to catch. And traffic was really busy, and I didn’t want to try to cross. I just gave up. I decided I would get on the bus on the side of the street that I was on, which would take me the wrong way, and eventually make a loop, and take me back towards town, or so I thought. So a random bus came, and I got on it, without even looking at what its route was. I rode that bus through its route, in the opposite direction than the way I needed to go, and went out to the Nittany Mall. I felt like a timid, self-conscious outsider on the bus, because, as I said, I’ve only ridden one once or twice, a long time ago, and I don’t know what I’m doing.

Then we got to the mall, and the bus driver stopped, and asked if everybody was going to Pleasant Gap or Bellefonte. I had a feeling this was important, so I confessed that actually, I had been hoping to turn around and go back to town. I said, I might have gotten on the wrong bus. So she told me that I could get off this one and get on the other bus that was parked in front of us, because it would soon be going back into town. I asked, ‘Should I do a transfer?’ and she said, ‘I’ll give you one,’ which was nice of her, because I probably wasn’t supposed to get one for that. Then I got on the other bus, and after a while, I got back to my parking garage.

I got in the car and was exhausted and relieved that it was all done. I went out to get Indian food from the restaurant down the street, but it turned out that I didn’t really like it as much as usual, because I’ve sort of been sick at my stomach today and yesterday for some reason.

So I have the bike, and it is parked at my camp on the mountain. It will be extremely hard to get up the hill. However, I’m considering getting help from my co-worker to do a motorized bicycle, and I won’t put that onto my new one, but instead I’ll get a cheap bike, a street bike, probably used, and put the motor on that one. That’s if I decide to do it.

I actually enjoyed the exercise. I am going to be in horrible pain for many days because of this. I will try it for a while on my own without a motorized bike.

I was able to do this because I just simply had two extra days off work. I still have tomorrow off, and I might be able to do a few more things. Work is the reason why I cannot make progress in my life. It takes up all my time and it exhausts me.

I’m very glad to have gotten things done today.

Plot weaknesses in ‘The Hunger Games.’

March 27, 2012

When you watch ‘The Hunger Games,’ your goal is to be the last person to walk out of the theatre after the credits are over. I stayed till the end of the credits, but there was a group of people who had formed an alliance and were standing there talking to each other. I would have had to violate social norms to stay and wait for them to leave first, and they were clearly aware of the rules and were trying to be the last ones out. So I lost.

I was looking for plot holes or weaknesses in the movie. I haven’t read the books. The first thing I thought of was that if this were real, then every district would be training everybody to prepare them, instead of just that one district.

And also, the people who had watched the games on TV for many years would have a sense of what to expect from the games. It would be like watching reruns of Survivor for decades and decades. They would run out of ideas after a while. They would not really be surprised by anything that happened in the games, because they would have seen it all many times before.

It wouldn’t have been a surprise when one of the districts started rioting because the little girl Rue died. They would know that the games could cause riots. It would have happened before. It would be, ho-hum, just another riot caused by the game. Sort of like a Penn State game, where the students often have riots – I should say ‘occasionally,’ not ‘often’ – but they do. So, that was actually believable. Penn State still has football games even though they sometimes have riots afterwards.

They wouldn’t have really changed the rules, I don’t think. I’m not sure, though. I’m not sure they would have stopped them from doing what they were pretending to do at the very end, and I’m not sure whether I’ll give out spoilers or not, but basically, they probably wouldn’t have cared if anybody had died.

Or, here’s what they would have done. They would have allowed them to both win the games, and then afterwards, the mafia would have destroyed their lives privately, outside of the public eye. You might have won the game, but we’re going to kill you as soon as you get home. They would have had some kind of ‘random accident’ afterwards.

The games would have been heavily edited for television. Even though people die in the games, they would have edited it to make sure that everything was always ‘under control,’ so that they would not have any unexpected situations happening. It would never have been played live. They would have made everybody wait until it was all over to find out what had happened. Who cares if people are terrified and worried about their children. They have to wait till it’s over to find out what happened. It can’t be played live, because things can get out of control, and the show needs to be edited for television.

Those are the main things that I could think of that were questionable.

Not another book-length monologue; planning to get the bike; task-switching is hard for me; slaves are unhappy with God’s Great Plan.

March 27, 2012

5:42 PM 3/27/2012

I wrote one of my book-length monologues this morning, and it was mostly rerun material, things I’ve written about many times before. The new idea in there was the parallel between my life and Rick’s, where I realized that a particular way of doing things wasn’t helping me, and I discovered that another way of doing things was much more helpful.

I wrote that Weston Price might have been an LIE, but then started hearing voices saying he might have been an LSE, too. I don’t know. I forgot to put in the disclaimer about how I make a lot of mistakes and I usually change my mind about sociotypes.

I was at the library and the Creepy Library Guy approached me. This isn’t the same as the Alpha NT hyperphasia guy. The CLG is a loving, friendly, creepy person who is obviously on drugs and has inappropriate social behavior. Today, as always, he gave me a hug, which I needed. Then he took my hand and kissed it, and then held out his own hand for me to kiss in return, which I did, and which I always do. He wanted to take off my shoes so he could look at my feet, because he loves feet. I love feet, too, but perhaps not to the same extent that he does. I didn’t have on my old croc sandals that I used to wear all the time, but instead I have on velcro sneakers, and I didn’t take them off, but I allowed him to grasp my feet and feel them the way he likes to do. He investigated the holes that are wearing through these shoes, where the sole is starting to fall off. He used to love taking off my crocs, but I always wore socks underneath them (long story, it was because of drug residues on the floor).

I felt myself having a secondhand drug reaction afterwards, mostly from my lips where I had kissed his hand. Yet I can’t say no, and I always do these things anyway. This is a nice, lovable person, who has something wrong with him, something unexplained, which I don’t have a label for.

I have two more days off, tomorrow and Thursday. I want to try to get the bike. Today, I went shopping, and bought a couple of items needed for my plan. I don’t have a place to put the bike. I can’t get a bike rack and put it on my car, because the back of the car is all smashed from the accident, and most of the bike racks hook to the trunk – I looked at them and tried to imagine attaching it, and it won’t work. My trunk bounces open because the latch stopped working – the cables that go back to the trunk latch, and also to the gas cap external cover latch, have gotten messed up, stretched, or rusted, or something, so that they no longer snap back to their original position, but instead remain loose, and so the trunk latch won’t close, and the gas cap cover won’t close. (I can still screw on the plastic cap that actually closes off the hole to the gas tank.) So if the trunk is bouncing open – and I’m holding it shut with a bungee cord – I won’t be able to hook a bike rack over it. And I don’t want to spend money buying a bike rack when the goal is to get rid of my car soon.

So I’m going to hide the bike somewhere. I was thinking I’d put it in the woods with my tent, with a camouflage net over it. But in reality, I might spontaneously decide that I want to put it somewhere else. Sometimes, when I’m actually doing something for real, I suddenly decide that I’m not comfortable with the original plan, and I decide that some other way of doing things feels better instead. I might end up, for instance, just parking the bike at a bike rack in town somewhere, or something like that.

I haven’t ridden a bike in about a decade, and I have to go kind of a long distance from the bike shop – not a horribly long distance, but it is long for an out-of-shape person. I will have terribly sore muscles afterwards.

So, I got a couple of items that I will need for this plan, such as the camouflage net. I didn’t just spend the entire day blogging and doing nothing else. I did go out shopping. Every little tiny part of a task is extremely difficult for me. All of my projects are extremely slow and inefficient. Drug residues are mostly causing the problem – I am having anxiety attacks caused by drug residues. I can be slightly anxious in reality, but the anxiety is incapacitating if I have residues on me. I’m noticing things like just staring into space and not wanting to move, while doing small ordinary things, especially when I’m trying to get up in the morning.

Last night was quite cold, and I used the warmest sleeping bag, with both of my other sleeping bags piled up on top of me like blankets, but not inside each other. All of my sleeping bags have residues on them. I’m not ready to switch to a clean one, because it’s still quite cold and I’m still using all three, and I don’t want to buy three more sleeping bags or something. Sometimes I have to tolerate the drugs for a while longer because it’s so expensive to keep buying new uncontaminated things.

Once I’m out of the car, I won’t have constant outbreaks of severe drug residues. I will only have tiny, minor incidents, such as the secondhand drugs from the library guy. That is nothing compared to the huge amounts of residues in my car, which are constantly affecting me and getting onto my shoes, or coming out of the car seat if my vinyl cover gets out of place or ripped open. I have a very heavy duty vinyl seat cover on now, and it works better than any that I ever had before – I wish I had done this years ago. It’s tablecloth vinyl, the stuff that has vinyl on one side, and then a sort of soft furry stuff on the back side. It’s very thick, and it doesn’t get ripped open, ever, even after being pulled and yanked on while I’m sitting on it and sleeping on it and reclining the seat up or down.

I hate it that every tiny little task takes so long for me to do and is such a big deal. I cannot force myself to do more than one major task per day. I had been thinking of trying to go pick up the bike today, but I found that I couldn’t bring myself to do all the various parts of the task – I didn’t want to go shopping first and then go pick up the bike afterwards, because doing two separate errands in one day seemed like too much. It shouldn’t be this way. Most other people are able to run around and do one task after another without stopping for a break. They can spend an entire day running around shopping and running errands without giving up.

I suspect that my lack of willpower and lack of persistence is primarily caused by the attacks, the mind control, the electronic harassment. It requires a lot of willpower for me to make myself go out and run errands of any kind, and ‘they’ always want to force me to stop after every task, instead of switching to the next task. Task switching is extremely hard for me. I recall some joke about ‘task switching’ somewhere, I think on something that my brother showed me, something to do with computer programming. If you have to do one task for a short period of time, and then switch to another completely different type of task, you have to prepare for each task, and set it up, and take it down afterwards, and the setup/takedown cost makes it inefficient if you are switching to too many different tasks. I don’t have to actually set up anything physical, but I have to sort of mentally meditate to summon up the willpower needed to start the next task. I have to envision what I am about to do and what I will need for that task. That requires a type of thought process which is severely, extremely destroyed by the mind control – their goal is to destroy that very thing – that is the whole reason for mind-controlling somebody, to destroy their will, so that they have no will of their own.

I remember losing my will. I remember how it felt. I remember when it happened. I remember the days when I first started noticing that somebody was zapping me every time I tried to focus my mind. This was a ‘sudden onset of symptoms.’ One day I was perfectly fine, the next day I was completely destroyed. It was not a slow, gradual onset, like a disease slowly developing over time. It was, you wake up one day and suddenly someone is zapping you with a cattle prod every single time you try to think a thought.

I know this can be a scary subject to talk about. People would wonder, is everyone being controlled, but only a few people know about it? I don’t think so. I think everyone can potentially be controlled, if ‘they’ choose to control a particular person temporarily, but most of the people out there, they just ignore. They target you if you get on their list for whatever reason, and they mostly leave everyone else alone. They do attack other people, but only in small and trivial ways, and only sometimes, and they do not make a focused effort to completely incapacitate that person and totally destroy their free will.

I think, also, if you notice that people seem to be happy and healthy and able to function well in society, you can assume that they are probably not being completely destroyed. The attacks cause you to be very unhappy and barely able to function. They destroy your life. If someone seems to be doing very well and not having any problems in their life, then you can assume that they are not being targeted for destruction, probably. ‘They’ will still have mental conversations with other people, and talk to them in their minds – this is very common, and people experience it when they pray, when they meditate, when they dream, when they sit and think quietly and have a discussion with themselves. They talk to the voices, but they don’t get harmed or attacked by them, and ‘they’ don’t target someone’s will and completely destroy it, unless that person is on the ‘bad list,’ whatever that list is. So yeah, ‘they’ interact with normal, healthy people, but they don’t ruin their lives.

In other words, I don’t believe that people can be healthy and happy, and also completely enslaved. I don’t see this as a society filled with happy sheep puppets who are blindly going around doing their robotic duties while being completely controlled. That’s not my vision of how it works. Whenever ‘they’ control you, it hurts. It hurts when they destroy your will by zapping you every couple seconds and every time you try to think. It is painful and inefficient. It causes constant conflict and friction that never ends, every second of the day. You can’t live like that and still be a happy, healthy slave who is fully functioning and acting normal and going around doing your duties.

So, some people might find it frightening to imagine that we are an entire society of drugged, happy, obedient slaves who are totally mind controlled, every one of us, but that is not the way that I see the situation. I don’t think it’s quite like that. You cannot control someone and be in perfect, complete harmony with their body. If you are controlling them, that means, by definition, you are forcing them to do something other than what they would normally have done on their own. Every time you disagree with their natural impulses, you cause pain and friction and conflict and inefficiency. Every time you cause pain, you slow a person down, and make them uncertain, and you waste their time, and prevent them from taking action, and inhibit them, and make them unhappy.

Not only that, but the controllers are fallible and they make mistakes. Perhaps they might convince someone that they are following ‘God’s Great Plan Which Is Incomprehensible To Mortals,’ but sooner or later, God’s Plan is going to fail so badly that the people who are blindly following it will start to question it and object to it. Hey, I don’t want to do this anymore! I don’t like this! And as soon as they start to question God’s Great Plan, they will be in conflict with the forces, which will cause them pain. (And note, I am sort of ‘joking’ here when I say God. It isn’t God, not a real God. These are humans who have put themselves onto God’s throne and called themselves God.) These people try to make big plans and force people to blindly follow them, but their plans don’t work, and as soon as things stop working, the puppets start to complain, and things don’t go perfectly smoothly, and the forces are not in perfect harmony with people’s bodies, and they suffer pain and friction. So you won’t see a bunch of happy slaves who are perfectly obedient all of the time, because ‘God’s Plan’ is never perfect, and the puppets will start to notice when things are going wrong, and they will complain, and they will fight, and they will object, and they will refuse. And even when people complain, ‘they’ continue trying to force them to stick to the plan, instead of changing the plan, and they try to ignore it when people complain, but that doesn’t work.

I don’t think it’s possible to control people so flawlessly and so completely that they don’t feel it at all, and to force them to do things that violate their nature or go against their interests, and yet still have a happy, healthy, fully functioning society. Prescription psychiatric drugs can help with that, but then, you get people who decide, or get forced, to go out in public and shoot a bunch of people and then kill themselves, which is totally caused by drugs, and which never happens as a ‘naturally occuring’ event. Those incidents are 100% caused by drugs, with no exceptions.

This won’t be another huge monologue as long as the last one.

And every day, I wonder if the Georgian will return to my blog stats, and I wonder what he is looking for. And I wonder if he is only a spoofed IP address from the hackers who want me to believe he’s there when he isn’t. I don’t know. I wonder how I would feel about him if I met him. I wonder why he had a problem with his wife. I wonder, even now, if he is gay or bisexual or something, and no, I’m not joking, I do sometimes sincerely wonder about that.

I hope he is okay, as ‘they’ often put terrible images into my head, about him. They try to convince me that his life is in danger and I have to help him, for instance. It’s a lot like Harry Potter having images of Sirius Black being tortured by Voldemort, and when he went there to save him, he found out that it was a trap, and the images in Harry’s mind were fake. That’s how I feel, too, and so I fight against it whenever they try to convince me of anything at all about him. I imagine that I’d go there frantically trying to rescue him, believing that he desperately needs me for some reason, only to find someone who utterly hates and loathes and reviles me, someone who slams the door shut in my face and then calls the police. It would be a trap to get me rejected, or caught by the police, or killed, or something.

But they can’t be entertained enough merely by having me hurt and killed and tortured in some more mundane way here at home, but instead they must send me off to some foreign country to do it. (Actually, that’s not that unusual for the US Government. They *do* actually send their prisoners off to foreign countries to be tortured far away from where the American citizens could find out about it.)

Enough of that for now. I did actually take one tiny step in my project, without being able to task-switch and go to the next task of the project, but instead, doing only one tiny thing per day. But I did.

Pink slime is probably good for you, but alas, because of all this media fuss, it’s being taken away.

March 27, 2012

If it were possible to eat it without the chemicals used to kill the bacteria, I would be happier about it.  And if they prevented the bacteria from being in there in the first place, and used animals that didn’t come from factory farms, that would be better.

I’m not writing a big article right now… I was just about to leave, and I’m about to get up and walk out the door right now, but maybe I’ll write more later.

He says that it’s not nutritious because it isn’t muscle meat. Apparently, they are ignorant about the fact that connective tissue is nutritious, and ignorant about the benefits of eating gelatin. “It’s more like Jello than meat,” he says. Gelatin helps other foods become more digestible.

And, omg, that’s one of those pages where I strongly object to their talking about cooking and eating bone marrow. I don’t know why so many people believe bone marrow is edible, I don’t know why some people can’t eat it, but I know from personal experience that it causes horrible, severe food poisoning and vomiting. I still haven’t resolved this issue or figured out why some people claim they can eat it and others can’t.

Some things I have learned from a lifetime of chronic health problems.

March 27, 2012

12:04 PM 3/27/2012

This isn’t the latest edition of the book.  The later edition has some more photographs added at the end of the book, and it has more introductions in the beginning.  I regret that some of the photos aren’t here – I remember one picture of Australian Aborigine girls who were very beautiful and strange.

Someone googled ‘Weston Price’ ‘chest pains’ and found my blog, which tells me that I am doing the world a useful service. ‘They’ said that I am ‘supervising’ the diet – someone on the forum said ‘I think Weston Price is an LIE,’ and yes, the feeling that I have about that diet is, I really love what they’re doing, if only they would fix this, this, and that. That’s sort of a ‘revision’ relationship. I really love the idea of the diet, I think they have something great, but it has these horrible flaws in it that they are all overlooking, and they are big, huge, important, dangerous flaws, and so I want to help them, in a way, by filling in the details, while still being loyal to the overall spirit of what that diet is trying to accomplish.

They will sit there and argue forever about how ‘the scientific research says X, the scientific research says Y,’ without ever saying ‘I tried this myself, and I experienced XYZ.’ I was reading one of the pages about cod liver oil, and they do talk about some of the dangers of it, but… I don’t know how to explain this, but there is still something wrong with going about it that way. It’s valuable and useful information, and I’m glad that it’s there. Like I said, this does seem to be a ‘revision’ relationship. There are many specific circumstances where cod liver oil is so dangerous that it absolutely should not be used. And they were upset because some scientist officially and publicly declared that he was no longer advocating cod liver oil, and he said it was dangerous. It *is* dangerous.

And a lot of other things in the diet are extremely dangerous, and they’re not emphasizing that enough, and not clarifying the exact details of how to use the diet safely. But I still totally support the overall concept of the diet, keeping the baby and throwing out the bathwater: The deformities are preventable, not genetic, and the deformities are caused by chemical poisoning and/or malnutrition during the prenatal phase of development.

I feel much happier when I withdraw from caffeine. I chose to use it again today – I am still very addicted to it, and also, I am still influenced by the things making me exhausted.

But this morning, I had an unpleasant song running through my head (a song that I was being forced to hear, that is) – ‘Live And Let Die,’ if that’s the name of it. I heard that song on the radio at work, and listened attentively to the lyrics for a minute, and I understood how they had taken the phrase ‘Live and let live,’ and changed it to ‘Live and let die.’ For some reason, I was paying close attention to the song; and so, ‘they’ decided to make that song run through my head constantly for several days.

I don’t know what that means. It connects to a few ideas, such as, separating yourself from unhealthy people, and letting them die, while seeking happiness – the opposite of altruism, the opposite of self-sacrifice. You can’t save everyone on earth, and at some point, you have to save yourself, and be happy, even while other people continue to suffer. If I weren’t a mind-controlled slave, I would have been attempting to seek my own happiness all these years, but I have been distracted from that.

I looked up the lyrics, and I found them disturbing and anxiety-provoking. It said ‘you gotta give the other fellow hell,’ which reminds me of Rick threatening to call the police on me, even though he did not want to do that kind of thing, he did not want to threaten me, he did not want to have to do anything to defend himself, but it was necessary because the harassment was harming him. I am still, to this day, scared that he is going to do something like that.

I was in caffeine withdrawal this morning, and when I woke up, I already felt somewhat more human. I turned on the radio while driving, so that I would hear something other than ‘Live And Let Die’ (haha, typo, I’m in the habit of writing the word ‘diet’ every time I write the first three letters, ‘die,’ and I automatically wrote the word ‘diet’ without thinking – I guess it’s a good sign if I’m more in the habit of typing the word ‘diet’ than the word ‘die.’ – yes, it’s still physically hard for me to resist typing the letter T at the end, and I have to consciously stop myself.)

Everyone online seems to have the wrong lyrics. I was annoyed by his grammatical error when I heard the line ‘…this ever-changing world in which we live in,’ but I figured out that he actually says ‘…in which we’re livin’,’ which makes it more grammatically correct. Everyone online doesn’t seem to have noticed that, and they’ve all got ‘in which we live in.’

So I heard ‘Don’t Stop Believing,’ and suddenly, I was emotionally moved by that song. I’ve always *kind of* liked that song, except for that fact that it’s a ‘classic oldie’ and I have heard it infinity times and I’m sick of it. Other than that, I kind of like it. But I felt this sadness and loneliness and longing when I heard it today. That reminded me that when I am completely off caffeine for long periods of time, I become able to be emotionally moved by music much more easily, including music that I find intolerable (which is almost everything) while caffeinated. I am able to tolerate music of ‘inferior quality’ whenever I’m off caffeine. Sometimes I even listen to (for example) Christian music on the Christian radio stations, and sometimes, even country music. I actually hear some very beautiful songs on the Christian stations, whenever they have a ‘real’ singer, not a pop music song, but a song with acoustic instruments, or an almost a capella song, a song that was written a long time ago, when music was different. And I don’t love classical music per se, but… there were some beautiful things written a long time ago. I don’t have any examples off the top of my head.

Then they played ‘Modest Mouse – Float On,’ and I had heard that song before, but didn’t know who sang it or what the name was. I had Modest Mouse on Napster, and it makes me sad to think of Napster, because I destroyed all my Napster songs a long time ago. I was trying to get rid of the hackers that were harassing me, and I went through a phase where I was repeatedly formatting my hard drive and reinstalling Windows. I didn’t have enough disks to save all my Napster songs on at the time, and I was in a hurry, because I was going crazy and I was furious at the hackers and I wanted to kill someone, at the time. So I decided to just erase the Napster songs while reformatting my hard drive.

So I know that I will be able to feel emotions again whenever I am completely off caffeine. And I’ve been off caffeine several times before, but it depends on having clean clothing and clean belongings, so that I will not constantly suffer chronic fatigue caused by drug residues.

I’ve had coffee now. I’m talking about what happened earlier today before I had coffee.

I actually have had one illness or health problem after another since birth. I was born sickly and weak, in a way. Oh shoot, what was I about to say, it was something important and I forgot. Oh, I know what it was.

I went a long time thinking that there was something ‘psychologically’ wrong with me. This story is a parallel to something similar in Rick’s life. Rick talks about how he used to be religious, and for a long time, he was trying to use religious ideas as guidance for his life. But eventually, he discovered that the best way for him to improve his life was to choose better relationships with more compatible people, and socionics was one of the keys that led to that discovery. He had been frustrated that the religious teachings weren’t really able to help him or guide him very well, and they weren’t effective enough. It helped him a lot more whenever he focused on spending time with people who had common interests and common values similar to his own.

The parallel in my life is the time period whenever I gradually realized that ‘psychotherapy’ wasn’t what I needed. I was not suffering from psychological problems, and psychotherapeutic techniques were not able to help me, and they would instead use up all of my money while leading me down confusing, wasteful, misleading pathways that didn’t fix anything.

I am not just suffering from ‘bad beliefs’ or ‘negative emotions’ or anything like that. I am not merely ‘traumatized by incidents in my past.’ Those things exist, yes, and they do have an effect on people.

But I have constantly had problems ever since I was born. I’ve only pieced this together as an adult, from talking to my parents and hearing about what happened to me when I was an infant and too young to remember, and from trying things such as the Feingold Diet as an adult when I was better able to observe its effects on me, and from reading and learning a lot more from many places, often from the internet.

birth: I was born ‘blue,’ literally, my skin was turning blue, and I was not getting enough oxygen, and my mother was worried about why I wasn’t breathing well enough, but the doctors just kind of said ‘Ehh, she’ll be fine, send her home.’

When a baby is born not breathing, it’s because of the drugs that were given to the mother during the birth. The drugs that are used to stop the labor pains DO get through to the fetus, and the fetus gets drugged. Drugs aren’t necessary if a mother gives birth in the natural position of squatting, crouching, or lying on her side, or moving into whatever position she finds comfortable. Hospital births require you to lie on your back, the worst possible position. That is one reason why labor hurts so badly and takes so long and requires so many drugs so that women can endure the agony of it. Birthing in a natural position, squatting or whatever is comfortable, greatly reduces the pain and makes drugs much less necessary.

(I’ve been researching this so long, I’ve been fascinated with this so long, and it would be a terrible loss if I never got to experience it myself, after all that I have learned, with all that I know.)

infancy: Severely hyperactive. I never slept. I would get up in the middle of the night, refuse to go to bed, open the door of my bedroom, go out and walk around the house, harass my parents, torture the animals – you wouldn’t be able to imagine me torturing animals if you had ever seen how kind and gentle I am nowadays to them, but when I was an infant, I would do things like, for example, sit on the cat while pulling its tail. It’s almost laughable, and yet, horrible, that I did those things.

My mom described an incident where she was physically holding my bedroom door shut, while I was pushing on the door from inside, and I was so strong, even as a four-year-old or whatever I was, just a very small child, I was so strong that she could barely hold the door shut. And one time, she said, she picked me up and threw me on the bed so hard that I bounced, and she saw my neck snap when I bounced, and she was *terrified* that she had injured me, but I seemed to be okay. I am not blaming her for this.

I was keeping her and dad awake constantly for four years. I made them go completely insane. I was always running around doing crazy things and endangering myself. One day, the children were walking home from the bus stop, and they started screaming for my mom and dad to come help, because they saw that I had climbed up to a window, knocked out the screen, and was getting ready to jump out. I remember when I was young I wanted to fly, so maybe I was actually going to try it. I had climbed up on top of my dresser, which was below the window. So my mom had to rush upstairs and rescue me from the window. And I did that kind of thing all the time.

Another time, my brother grabbed the hood of my coat just as I was in the process of falling off the back porch. I had crawled under the railing and jumped off, and he had followed me, caught my hood, and I was hanging there with him holding my hood, while he screamed and screamed for Mom to come help.

I was almost autistic, and I didn’t like to be held. I would squirm, wriggle, cry, and scream, if anybody tried to touch me, hold me, or give me any love. In order to make me fall asleep, Mom had to sit there rocking me in the rocking chair, or take me for a walk or a drive. (I might be remembering this story wrong; I’m not sure if she ever said she had to take me for a walk or a drive, but it doesn’t matter, you get the idea. Somebody had to ‘do something’ to make me fall asleep. I wouldn’t just go to sleep and stay asleep on my own.)

You can see that some of this pattern has continued into my adulthood. I say that I am extremely antisocial, and I cannot find comfort in ordinary friendships, and I avoid people as much as I can, outside of work. I am able to interact with people at work, but even then, I am often standing outside of the social groups and the conversations, somewhat.

The idea is that there has always been something wrong with me, since birth, and psychotherapy can’t help it.

So one day, a television show talked about The Feingold Diet. It was one of those daytime talk shows. I want to say it was ‘Donohue.’ My mom became interested in the diet. Their descriptions of hyperactive children matched me exactly.

They tried the diet. Mom says that on the very first night that they tried the Feingold Diet, I slept peacefully through the night for the first time in my entire four-year life. The diet worked instantly within one day of starting it. I was instantly changed. I stopped torturing animals, stopped constantly endangering myself, stopped getting out of bed at night. Everything changed.

Over the years, they gradually took me off the diet, and let me have more of the forbidden foods. They used the diet in a less formal, less strict way. I did not become insanely hyperactive anymore, but I had to avoid having too much of the forbidden foods, the artificial colors and flavors and preservatives and other chemicals.

I had other recurring problems, such as recurring ear infections, and they were also cured by the diet.

The Feingold Diet people think that they know one of the enzymes that hyperactive people have inadequate amounts of, phenol sulfotransferase. They can’t produce enough of that enzyme. Other people have enough of it, and so, they are able to eat large amounts of the chemicals, and able to take more drugs, and able to tolerate all the chemicals that people encounter in daily life, more easily, because their bodies can break down poisons more effectively. If you cannot produce enough phenol sulfotransferase, then you are quickly overloaded by various chemicals.

The Weston Price deformities might have a connection with food sensitivities and hyperactivity. The mother might possibly have a food sensitivity or an inability to absorb particular nutrients, which increases the chance that the fetus will develop abnormally. Perhaps the mother’s body is overloaded with toxic chemicals that she cannot metabolize, during pregnancy, and those chemicals may affect the baby. Perhaps the child has the food sensitivities, and, as a result, cannot absorb enough nutrients or get rid of enough toxic chemicals, and they develop the deformities as they grow up.

I know someone who discovered, as an adult, that he has a severe problem with wheat gluten – it causes him to develop a rash all over his body. He is now on a gluten-free diet. He also has the jaw deformity severely enough that it causes him to have a lisp. Speech impediments are associated with the Weston Price jaw and mouth deformities. There is another girl I work with who is hyperactive, pushy, and annoying, who behaves like a classic ‘hyperactive child,’ except she is a teenager/young adult, who would benefit from the Feingold Diet, and she is also a drug user, and bisexual. People have a greater likelihood of using drugs if they are chronically ill and have trouble functioning for any reason at all. She also has severe mouth and tooth deformities and a lisp, and I can barely understand what she is saying, a lot of the time.

This is controversial and complicated, but I strongly suspect that sexual ‘deviances,’ whatever they might be, are correlated with the deformities. The deformities affect the brain, not just the face. I suspect that people who are gay or bisexual have a great likelihood of also having severe mouth, nose, face, jaw, and body deformities, and also speech impediments. No joke, but I suspect that the ‘gay lisp’ isn’t just something that ‘flaming gay’ people do deliberately for the purpose of showing people that they are gay. The gay lisp developed because it was a real phenomenon: speech impediments are strongly correlated with homosexuality. This also explains why people are observing or complaining about how homosexuality is becoming more prevalent in our society (that may or may not be true, I don’t know) – perhaps it actually is becoming more prevalent, for real, as more and more children are born with the deformities.

I have a counterexample. We have an upper-level manager who I am fond of, who I think is an IEE, and he is also openly gay, and everyone knows that he is. He doesn’t seem to have deformities. He is very tall, which is usually a sign of health, not sickness. His face seems to be well formed, although I noticed that his eyes actually seem to be slightly farther apart that I am used to. But that isn’t necessarily an abnormal thing. However, far-apart eyes occur amongst the Amish, who have problems with inbreeding, so they may actually be a sign that something is wrong. I don’t see the jaw deformities, but I’ve never been very close to him and I’ve never interviewed him to find out about his health history, such as whether he ever had orthodontic braces.

However, I have two examples that support the correlations. There is another gay person, who I am also very fond of and who I get along well with (‘they’ suspected that he might be a Gamma SF, either an ESI or an SEE, but honestly, I’m not sure what he is. He could theoretically even be an ESE. I’m pretty sure he is a sensor, not an intuitive.). His only noticeable deformity is shortness of height. He might have facial deformities, but they are not always easy to see, and I don’t know if he ever had braces in the past.

There is another guy at another McDonald’s where I used to work. He’s still there. He is gay, and very short, and looks almost like a child even though he is an adult, and his face looks almost exactly like a ‘Mongoloid’ person, a mentally retarded person, and he has a speech impediment, a lisp, and when I first met him I thought he was retarded, except he isn’t. I think he is an LSI. He was violently abused as a child. He would flinch if I would move my hand too quickly towards him, as though he thought I was going to hit him. He would laugh if someone else got hurt. He said that his parents would ‘woop’ him (whip him, or hit him) if he did anything bad. So, his parents also had problems of their own, and were somehow unhealthy in their own way, which suggests that they, too, might have some kind of chemical sensitivity that causes violent behavior.

Abusiveness is correlated with chemical sensitivities, ill health in general, deformities, and malnutrition. All of those things are correlated with poverty and low social class. (In ‘The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo,’ sociopathic, abusive, rapist, murderous behavior occurred in a wealthy, high-class family. It can happen.) A famous example is the Hatfield and McCoy feud, in West Virginia. They later discovered that one of the families – the McCoys? – had a genetic defect that caused them to develop deformities of the adrenal gland, which caused them to overreact with murderous rage, so that they would kill people whenever they became angry. Deformities caused by a genetic defect are not the same as the Weston Price deformities, which are preventable. Deformities can have different causes.
Well, I was just writing the history of my own chronic problems. I said I’ve had problems since birth. The chemical sensitivity has been the cause of most of my ‘psychological’ problems.

I got much worse when I got braces, and later, when I got a plastic retainer (which gave me breast pain, or something like fibrocystic disease), and when I got a metallic dental filling. Being unable to get rid of toxic chemicals made me more sensitive to those things, so that perhaps other people can tolerate having braces and dental fillings in their mouths, but I cannot.

I got worse when our house was full of pesticides, when we had fleas and roaches. I developed central sleep apnea: I remember trying to fall asleep, and I would ‘forget to breathe’ as soon as I dozed off. It wasn’t obstructive sleep apnea. My breathing passages weren’t getting blocked (which, by the way, is also caused by a deformity, and sleep apnea is correlated with a large number of health problems and psychological problems). I would just stop breathing. If you simply stop breathing for no reason, that is usually because of a poisonous chemical, and pesticides are what I suspect were doing it to me. I’ve noticed horrible reactions to pesticides during my adulthood, now that I know to look for these correlations.

Also, I think my wisdom teeth removal might have caused my sleep apnea. It’s possible that the tooth extractions damaged the nerves in my jaws in such a way that it affected my ability to breathe properly while sleeping. It seemed to develop after the wisdom tooth removals – that was the time period when I noticed the worst apnea. I might have had drug residues in my clothing, too, from the drugs used to put you to sleep during the operation. I wouldn’t have known about that back then. So I would have been getting an anesthetic every day of my life, which would cause me to want to sleep and sleep and sleep, and would cause me to stop breathing while asleep, the same way that I stopped breathing because of the anesthetic given to my mother when I was born.

Whenever the dentist put me to sleep to remove my teeth, I remember that I started talking to him when the drug was getting into me. I had this little box over my nose. I was able to either breathe through my nose or my mouth. I was getting a mixture of drugged air and normal air. The box over my nose gave me the drugged air. I started talking to the dentist, and I told him all about my imaginary world, the planet of Darcon, which I created as a teenager, back when I used to draw cartoons and write fiction stories. Darcon was a big secret, and Rachael was the only person who knew that it existed, although the people who sat near me in school might see me drawing some of the cartoon animals that lived on Darcon. Darcon was inspired by Fantasia, the imaginary world on the movie ‘The Neverending Story.’

So I told the dentist all about Darcon, as soon as I got drugged. I got into a weird hypnotic state. I don’t remember doing this, but my mom tells me that they started to do the tooth extractions, but I started screaming ‘I’M NOT ASLEEP! I’M NOT ASLEEP! I’M NOT ASLEEP!’ while they were trying to operate on me. It’s actually kind of funny that I did that, and I’m sort of smirking as I write this, but actually, I’ve read stories online where people talk about how they weren’t really asleep while they were being operated on, and how they could actually see and feel the surgery while it was being done, and how it was disgusting and traumatic for them to be able to experience that. I don’t remember screaming. I do, vaguely, vaguely remember that I could feel the teeth being yanked in my mouth, pulled back and forth very, very hard, but I don’t remember it hurting. I just could feel the pressure of the teeth being yanked on.

Wisdom tooth removal is harmful and unnecessary. It is the result of the jaw deformities. Human jaws are perfectly capable of having enough room for the wisdom teeth whenever the jaws are fully developed. Small, underdeveloped, deformed jaws are the only reason why people have any problems with their wisdom teeth. And I suspect that it might be possible to just leave the wisdom teeth in there, even if they have developed improperly at the wrong place. However, other people say that the teeth cause pain and have problems, and I don’t know that from personal experience. I don’t remember having any pain or any problems at all with my wisdom teeth – they were removing them to prevent future possible problems, which makes me very angry. I don’t want to prevent the problem until it actually happens. I don’t think I would have had any problems with my wisdom teeth. I would have been glad to keep them. Wisdom tooth problems are not life-threatening, and so, there is no reason to aggressively prevent them before they happen. They are a mere nuisance, not a danger to life. They said that my parents had spent all this money on my orthodontic braces, and all of it would have been destroyed if my wisdom teeth disrupted the alignment of my other teeth.

But dentists are not always right whenever they predict disasters. They often give false warnings about disasters that never happen. For instance, dentists were warning me for years and years that there would be horrible consequences because I’ve worn through the enamel on the chewing surfaces of the molars on the left side of my mouth. The left side of my jaw is slightly squashed – I was born with a crooked face – and so that side of my jaw closes before the right side does, so there is more wear on that side. And I have had bruxism, tooth clenching, because of drugs. The dentists said that I would get cavities because I’ve worn through that enamel, but I never have. Those parts of the teeth are perfectly fine. The chewing surface doesn’t get the cavities. It’s the non-chewing surfaces that seem to get the cavities. They told me that I would need to get all these crowns, or whatever, or get some kind of filling put on the surface of my teeth, and I forget what it’s called, but they wanted me to do that to protect my teeth now that the enamel was worn off the chewing surfaces. I’m glad that I didn’t, because that would have been one more chemical constantly leaching into my mouth, which I would have had to remove now.

In primitive cultures, they can wear down their teeth and have no enamel left on parts of them, without getting any cavities. The Inuit people studied by Weston Price (he would have called them Eskimos) had teeth that were very badly worn down to tiny nubs, and they thought it was because the people chewed on the leather while tanning it. They had almost zero cavities, because of their diet. Also, an African tribe was grinding their teeth into pointed shapes, deliberately, like fangs (no, I don’t like body modifications), and they didn’t get any cavities either, even though they had scraped away all the enamel while grinding their teeth into pointed fang shapes, because they did not eat a cavity-inducing diet. (Note that they mention a woman who has had twenty-six children.)

I’m getting exhausted from all this writing, so I’ll get to the point. I had said that I finally figured out, as an adult, that all my problems were health problems, not ‘psychological’ problems. My chronic fatigue, my hyperactivity, my stomach problems, everything. Another discovery was added on to that, which was, I discovered that I am being attacked by unknown people. But that, too, isn’t a ‘psychological’ problem.

Because of this lifetime, because of all these problems that I have had since birth, I am very aware of what’s causing many of the problems in our society. If I had been healthy all my life, I would not have needed to pay so much attention to the causes of illness. I would have simply enjoyed my happy, normal life and would have never needed to understand anything. No, I’m not saying I’m glad to have lived a life of chronic illness, but I’m saying that I did gain valuable knowledge from it.

I’ll just quit this now and post it, and I’ll have to check that my html link doesn’t get deactivated by quickpress, as it sometimes does. But, you can see the Weston Price book online, and look at the pictures, and see what the deformities look like.

friendless and interchangeable

March 26, 2012

While reading one of the google results for either Khinklis Sakhli or Khinkali Center (I forget which) I happened to read some woman’s tumblr page, where she talked about living in Tbilisi. She was an English speaker who was talking about having international friends who come and go, people who don’t stay in one place forever. She seemed like a nice, ordinary person, and I wondered if she might be a SLI – I can’t tell, actually, I was just wondering. She could be anything. The point was that she didn’t seem all that different from myself.

And it makes me feel like people are interchangeable. Why would I care about one particular individual, instead of some other particular individual? Why would one person care about me? And I believe that my personality type is a commonplace one, so common that you can just walk out the door and snap your fingers and a thousands SLIs will fall from the sky. Why would someone choose one particular person over another?

Why wouldn’t I make friends here and forget about Rick? But I don’t want to. I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want to invest in anything. I just have to endure more time of extreme isolation and loneliness for a while longer. There are days whenever it hurts very much to be alone. I go around and do everything completely alone, all day long, every day. I don’t have a group of friends who I can do even the simplest things with, such as enjoying going to a movie together. I would feel like those friendships were shallow and unsatisfying, like I wasn’t getting what I needed from them.

Oh no, I’ve attracted a Georgian who isn’t him.

March 26, 2012

Now I have a non-Rick Georgian who has read a page of my blog. They googled ‘Khinklis Sakhli’ and found my page where I mentioned that typo. My page is actually one of the top google search results for that phrase. For the rest of eternity, I will now have a steady stream of non-Rick Georgians finding this blog through random google searches for ‘Khinklis Sakhli.’ Maybe it was one of his fellow language exchange members trying to figure out where on earth they were supposed to go. What made it even more confusing was, when I googled that phrase, I found out that ‘Khinkali’ is a related word that apparently means the same thing, or almost the same thing, as ‘Khinklis.’ It’s some kind of bread or noodle-like thing, wrapped up, some kind of dough. I’ve read about how they have some kind of cheese bread and they’ll crack a raw egg on it when the bread is hot. But I don’t remember if that was the same kind of bread. So, one of them is a restaurant, but I haven’t found out what the other one is yet. Wow, my page is even higher in the google search results for ‘Khinkali Center.’ Maybe I should stick a couple of advertisements on that page and get rich quick. SO LONG, SUCKERS! (Sorry, the phrase, ‘So long, suckers!’ was a ‘joke’ that the voices were making, with regard to the people believing in incorrect facts or things that are devoid of information, such as ‘an apple a day…’ or ‘early to bed…’, and the joke was, ‘I’M GONNA SET MY ALARM FOR 3 AM AND I’M GONNA BE RICH! SO LONG, SUCKERS!’ or something to that effect.)

I haven’t chosen to make friends here in State College during the whole time I’ve been here, because all I ever wanted was to go somewhere else. Maybe that’s why it’s convenient for me to have an infatuation with some person who lives in a faraway place, who loathes and reviles me and wishes I was dead. That infatuation won’t stop me from leaving PA, and that’s the only reason why I didn’t want to make friends, because I didn’t want to leave them. I don’t know how someone could make temporary groups of friends and then leave them, and then make new ones elsewhere. But the point was that it didn’t matter that the relationship was (and I can’t remember the word I’m looking for) un-fulfillable. Unable to be consummated. It doesn’t matter, because he is only something for me to focus on, while keeping me away from forming any bonds with any people around here.

I only made friends with people if they aggressively, confidently initiated a dating relationship with me. The only ‘friends’ that I have in the area are former boyfriends. I have not kept in touch with any other friends, housemates, or anything.

I don’t know, I might get used to the idea of them being together.

March 26, 2012

10:32 AM 3/26/2012

I’m still working on this. Right now, I feel as though this guy is not a serious replacement for Rick, and so, I feel like they are not really separated. He is only a comforter. That means they are still at risk of getting back together. And I had thought all this time that he was going to be in Georgia briefly and then would return to Ukraine – in March, I believed – which he did not yet do. He still might return soon. I know pretty surely that they are ‘separated’ by physically not living together right now, and I know the exact place where I read this piece of information. But I do not know whether they are ‘separated.’ She could be just taking pictures of herself with some guy and trying to make Rick come back to Ukraine sooner.

I’m also comparing him to two other people who I have typed as SEE, actually, three other people. I know these three people rather well and have had a lot of conversations and interactions with them face to face, one of them in the real world. (The guy who responded to my ad, I only saw him in person one time, and have talked on the phone to him only a couple of times, and then, I see him on facebook.) And there was a guy at McD briefly who I also typed as SEE. Many of them are rather quiet and serious. In fact, all of the four examples that I’m thinking of (including the McD guy who I only knew briefly at work) were rather serious people. I actually found them to be respectable. Some of them seemed quite intelligent. Peter, the older married diabetic guy who I was seeing for several years, was an SEE, and I described him as ‘very intelligent.’ Not necessarily a genius, but quite intelligent – and he’s not on facebook, so I can’t look at his facebook behavior. One of these people will sometimes do a facebook behavior of passing around things that other people have passed around, and I can’t think of any examples right now, but they’re not quite the same as what this guy (the guy with Rick’s wife), and the ad-responder guy, are doing.

I’m trying to figure out whether these ‘gray area’ people are SEEs or IEEs, and I know some people who I’m very sure are SEEs, and they do have some similarities to what this guy is doing. And I wish I could think of some examples of the annoying and uninformative little ‘sayings’ that these people like to post on facebook. Occasionally they will do things that are, supposedly, associated with ‘intuition,’ but which I view as being a *weak* use of intuition, not a strong use of it. And it’s combined with a weakness of facts and science. For example, they might go around saying ‘Quantum physics says that everything in the universe is connected!’ I saw a web page where they were describing the functions, and it might actually have been a Jungian cognitive functions page, and they listed ‘Everything is connected’ as being one of the common themes associated with intuition. Maybe it’s because I’m older, maybe it’s because I read some books that debunked some of the myths and misunderstandings having to do with chaos theory and quantum physics, and actually, I can’t remember the name of the books that I read, but I recall reading books that complained about how people were taking bits and pieces of quantum physics and fractals and taking them out of context and incorrectly believing that they explained things happening in everyday life. But anyway I view that as a weak use of intuition, not a strong use of it. A strong use of intuition will actually be able to describe to you in specific detail *how exactly* various things are connected, instead of just stating in a vague and general way, ‘Quantum physics says everything is connected! WOAHHH!’ People using intuition in a strong way will tell you the exact series of connections that various things have with each other.

I still don’t know.

I’m very tired right now, and it’s my day off, and I would be sleeping in if I weren’t being repeatedly attacked and forced to wake up and then fall asleep again and then wake up again. I need to withdraw from coffee today. I need that very badly. I am severely overusing coffee while working, and I am struggling with the chronic fatigue, and the drug residues, which I am sick of talking about.

I’m trying to draw conclusions about the extent to which he is separated from his wife. Whenever I believed that they were *really* separated, I actually felt more strongly motivated to go see him. But I am now kind of doubtful that they are actually separated, and I view this guy as a temporary comforter for her, instead of a long-lasting replacement. And not only that, but I remembered something which is much worse for me, and that is, he wants to marry a local woman so that he can become a citizen, and that’s something that I can never do for him. I am trying to protect myself against several things: emotional rejection, and also, physical danger, such as the police being called on me. And I am trying to do all of this on my own, with very little information, while being unable to discuss it with Rick – I can’t ask him for more specific information about *why* he is rejecting me, and that information would actually be very helpful.

My perception of this situation influences this feeling in the background, this feeling of where I am going and what I am going to do in the future. I know that, no matter what, I am going to go through a series of steps, such as getting rid of the car, regardless of Rick rejecting me. I need to do that for my own reasons. That is actually not being done ‘for Rick,’ although he greatly inspired me to feel that it was possible and desirable to do that. There are pathways that lead me away from him, and pathways that lead me towards him, and that feeling is influenced by the conclusions that I draw about his relationship with his wife.

And I must explain as always that, I apologize, but I am completely, physically enslaved to a mind control system, and whether it is a large system or just a couple of people driving around and zapping my head with beams, I don’t know, but whatever it is, it affects me constantly and I am completely unable to avoid it. I absolutely, totally do not have free will. And I remember a time in the past when I did not feel this way, and I remember the time when it changed, and I remember everything that I experienced while losing my free will. That is the reason why I think about the topics that they force me to think about, I obsess about the topics that they force me to obsess about, and I talk about the topics that they force me to talk about.

If I were free, I have a feeling that I would have completely and totally disconnected from Rick from the very first instant that he said anything even slightly resembling ‘no,’ and I would have never looked back or ever had a second thought about him for the rest of my life. I remember, in the past, being able to take no for an answer, and I wish that I were still able to do that. It is not natural for me to keep pursuing someone, especially someone far away who I’ve never had a conversation with out loud, but only in email, after they’ve repeatedly said ‘no’ to me, told me that they find me repulsive and delusional and a creepy bitch and everything else that he has said. The real me understands how it feels to loathe a disgusting, horrible, creepy, crazy person who keeps stalking you and bothering you, because I myself have loathed those disgusting horrible people many times in the past. I know how that feels and I don’t want to make other people feel that way about me, but I am being controlled and forced to make other people loathe me in that exact way that I loathe those people who stalk me. And I am not doing it to ‘make a point’ or to ‘make someone understand how I feel.’ I am being completely, physically controlled and forced to do things against my will, things that I do not want to do. So I would apologize for that, if only I were capable of apologizing for something that is being caused by an external attacker instead of by myself. I can’t apologize for someone else’s crime.

Anyway… all of this is me trying to understand what’s happening between him and his wife. I can’t understand how she can be with some other guy who says he loves her, yet she’s married to Rick. I don’t know where she is or whether they’re getting back together. But yes, he was right when he said that the ‘news’ would be fuel for stalkers, or long-distance infatuations, because yes, it did make me totally flip out, a lot, and I’m still processing it.

And Rick doesn’t know me, and can never know the real me, as long as I am a controlled slave who cannot speak.

About this guy, I don’t know if her relationship with him is a stable, long-term one or not, but I know that my own reaction to him is that he is ‘poorly compatible for unknown reasons.’ I can struggle to articulate the reasons why I find him incompatible, but I can’t really articulate them. He reminds me of another person who was, supposedly, my dual, but who I found incompatible for reasons, some of which were known, and some of which were hard to explain. I know for certain that the one guy who I did meet in person was using Klonopin, and I had an extremely severe and intolerable reaction to his drugs. Benzodiazepines are some of the worst drugs that exist.

And I don’t have any idea how Rick feels, or why Georgia appears so loyally and consistently in my blog stats. What is he looking for, that Georgian, whoever it is? I’m sure he’s curious to see whether I really will make progress, whether I really will improve my situation, whether I really will go into a drug-free phase where I barely talk at all and stop having outbursts of mania. He would be curious about that, I imagine. I’m going to be a lot more boring and stupid whenever I am completely drug free, but I will also be less bitter and hateful and cynical, and it will be less easy for ‘them’ to force me to say their puppet words, but, alas, I will instead say very little at all, because I will still be a puppet, just a quieter one. It will be harder for the world to recognize that I have any intelligence or anything of value to offer. I have always been keenly aware that drugs make me more intelligent, ever since all the way back in college whenever I decided to stop eating or drinking anything with caffeine in it, and I didn’t drink soda or coffee, back then, so instead I totally stopped eating chocolate, and I even observed an increase in intelligence whenever I ate Pepperidge Farm Ginger Man Cookies, because apparently ginger is enough of a drug that it increased my intelligence observably. I would notice the slightest responses to every tiny drug in my foods, and I felt, back then, that this was somehow ‘cheating’ or ‘unfair’ of me, to use a drug to make myself smarter. As an adult, I did it merely to survive, because I have to work so many hours and continue working even while totally exhausted. I did it to pay the rent. That’s why I took drugs.

I know now not to get orthodontic braces or to have any permanent teeth removed. I was very intelligent and healthy when I was a child, and then, my chronic health problems and mental problems suddenly began at the exact same time that I got my orthodontic braces. I used to be a straight-A student who easily succeeded in school, and then, out of nowhere, all of a sudden I started having problems in school as soon as I got braces. And I wrote in my childhood diary that I was feeling sad and depressed for no reason and I didn’t know why. Having a bunch of metal in your mouth, dissolving traces of metal into your system 24 hours a day, does not make you healthy. I would forbid anyone to put braces in my children’s mouths, and I would prevent my children from having the facial deformities that cause them to ‘need’, quote unquote, braces in the first place. And then, I got an unncessary dental filling, in my teenage years. And I had a plastic retainer after the braces. Having toxic chemicals leaching into my body constantly from fourth grade onwards caused me to have chronic health problems and mental problems, which led to my difficulties in school, and those weren’t the only chemicals affecting me – I remember having a lot of problems whenever my parents filled the house with pesticides because our dogs had fleas. One thing after another, for years and years and years, made me too sick to do my homework. I remember I spent so much time sleeping, and my dad was always mad at me for staying in bed all the time. I remember I was running track for school, and during track practice, I was lagging way, way behind everyone else, and I was so exhausted, and I was getting shin splints, and I could barely run, and I was affected by the pesticides probably during that time, and also eating an extremely unhealthy diet. All of these things made me unable to do my homework, even after I went away to college, and I couldn’t finish school, and I dropped out. And I continued having problems, so that I was so sick I could not keep a good job all the time, and I lost a lot of jobs, many years ago. I wasn’t able to get better jobs and keep them. And I always had to work two minimum-wage jobs just to pay the rent and the bills. So I wasn’t able to take care of myself, learn or study anything, or make any improvements in my life. And then, at some point, I became the victim of a horrible crime, and that slowed me down even more.

So here I am, 37, childless but wanting children desperately, loveless, miserable, fascinated with some person in a foreign country who might possibly hate and fear me. And other people want to have only one or two children, and they get them, but I’m someone who discovered the concept of having as many children as possible, without limit, and I decided that that’s what I wanted, but I might only get two or three if I’m lucky, if I’m very lucky. It was a worldview, a belief system, and I picked it up from several different places, several books, several cultures, and it’s different from the culture that surrounds me, but I decided that was the culture I wanted.

I just realized I’m hungry and I should go get breakfast. I would like to withdraw from coffee today – I need that withdrawal very, very badly.

What category are these people in?

March 26, 2012

4:38 AM 3/26/2012

I’m still working on the topic of ‘What type is this person, and why do I find them to be so annoying and incompatible?’ Are they really an IEE, or an SEE, or something else?

Rick has already talked about this issue: he wrote about how only a small number of duals were ‘very compatible,’ and then all the others were a varying degree of compatibility ranging all the way to ‘incompatible’ even though they were duals. Not just duals, but every one of the intertype relations.

I was thinking (or rather, ‘they’ were discussing this possibility with me) that maybe it’s because he’s young (but I didn’t see how old he was yet). But I disagree with that. The guy who he strongly reminds me of is somewhat older (how old is he? I never thought to find out how old he was, but he’s already had a family, he has several children who are in their early teens and preteens, he’s been divorced, and I have no idea how old he is, and I never cared). He isn’t just a guy in his early twenties. And yet he behaves the same way (on facebook), collecting these meaningless, uninsightful platitudes, cliches, and bromides, and then presenting them to the world as though they are huge pieces of wisdom. ‘”Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.” Omg, I just found out that William Shakespeare wrote that! That is SO DEEP!!!! I JUST HAD TO TELL EVERYBODY!!!!’ And then, tomorrow, it will be ‘”An apple a day keeps the doctor away.” OMG! I’M GONNA GO TO THE STORE RIGHT NOW AND BUY A HUNDRED POUNDS OF APPLES SO I CAN EAT ONE EVERY SINGLE DAY FROM NOW ON!!! I just had to tell all you guys!!!’ These things are cliches that are lacking any useful information. This is a particular pattern of facebook behavior, and it’s not merely because he’s young, because I see this older guy behaving very similarly.

So, I guess it’s possible that these ‘gray area’ people *could* be IEEs, but I don’t know. I must have been lucky when I stumbled upon my old best friend, because she never behaved like that at all. Whenever she talked about some kind of insight she had had, it would be something new that I had never heard of before. She didn’t go around collecting dozens of platitudes and acting like they were the deepest wisdom. I don’t recall her *ever* going around spouting platitudes and generalities, but then facebook didn’t exist back then, and this is facebook behavior.

The guy who responded to my ad, who feels very similar to this guy, I met in the real world, and we sat together and had a conversation for a while, I forget how long. To me, the conversation seemed boring and strained, lacking any depth, like we weren’t really even interacting with each other. He mostly talked, and I mostly listened without having anything to say. He talked about a bunch of problems with his previous relationship. He seemed to be lacking any insight into any of it. I know Rick said that it’s possible to have incompatible duals, but I would swear that this person would have been much better off talking to an ILI who would be able to look more deeply into the situation and have some kind of insight, instead of me, a SLI, who was just as blind and ignorant about all of it as he was. We were at the same level of blindness, and not able to help each other.

It doesn’t make sense to claim that these people are all Illusionaries, because that wouldn’t explain Rick’s own experiences and observations. It cannot be possible that 39 out of 40 ‘SLI’ types are actually ILI illusionaries to him, because, from my observation, all intuitives are extremely scarce, only a tiny percentage of the population, to such a degree that it is not possible for the vast majority of people to ever find a monogamous dual. (Yes, yes, yes, and the Myers-Briggs types everybody as an intuitive, so it seems as though everyone’s an intuitive and there aren’t any sensors, and also there’s some school of thought in Russian socionics where they believe everyone’s an intuitive and there aren’t any sensors, because their definition of ‘sensor’ is someone who only lives in the immediate moment, blah blah blah, yes, I know, but even so, I am agreeing with this observation about the shortage of intuitives, and I admit that I did read it in books, and on websites, so it’s not entirely my own observation.) If ILIs were that common, then I wouldn’t have the problem of going on to a dating website and being flooded with thousands upon thousands of SF men desperately looking for NT women who do not exist, because while NTs are scarce, NT *females* are even scarcer. Rick’s incompatible duals cannot all be illusionaries.

All of this is making me feel inferior to Rick, because of his intelligence and his writing style being so admirable to me. Just because I admire him does not mean that we are compatible. And whenever I am completely off drugs and off caffeine, I seem even less intelligent and I have even less to say, and no one would know that I had ever been diagnosed as ‘gifted’ whenever I was in elementary school. I had that label my whole life, and I always felt like I was smarter than other people, but I am no longer able to use my mind, because of the constant bombardment of electronic harassment which totally destroys my mental functioning, and so, I don’t even seem smart anymore, but instead, I am a brainless puppet who spouts just as much garbage as all these other people spouting platitudes. And that could make one wonder the extent to which everybody’s a puppet.

(And not only that, but also, I can’t read books anymore, because I spend my time working and then recovering from work, and I cannot bear to invest time and energy in reading books for fun, but instead, I must feel that the book-reading will pay off very quickly with some kind of immediate practical gain such as an increase in income. So I have no insights or knowledge from books anymore, as I used to when I was young and in school and was constantly reading something.)

Perhaps, when I take my big vacation, after I decide how to arrange that, I will go on a trip to the radio quiet zone around Green Bank, WV, to observe how I feel whenever I am not constantly surrounded by radio. I wonder if I will sleep through the night without being zapped awake and forced to have conversations with invisible people. I wonder if I will be able to meditate quietly while talking and writing, so that I can deeply process the information that I am thinking about, so that I can make changes to the things I am about to say before I say them, so that I can revise them and make them insightful, so that I can understand the larger context and implications of them.

I used to be able to do that whenever I was not being constantly, completely destroyed 24 hours a day. Electronic mind control is the total destruction of free will and intelligence. You completely cease to exist. It is unimaginable to anyone who hasn’t experienced it.

Anyway, all of this might be related to the question, ‘What is intelligence?’ I enjoyed reading Howard Gardner a long time ago, when I could read books. And there are other authors, in books and online, who are trying to define exactly what intelligence is, what genius is. They are struggling to distinguish intelligence from personality types. I often see that in their writings. They try to explain how somebody can be really good at doing a particular type of thinking, and how there are different types of thinking that can be valuable, and yet, you can be better or worse at that particular type of thinking. These ‘incompatible IEEs,’ if that’s what they are, might simply be people in the range of ‘average intelligence,’ so that they seem to be shallow and lacking insight, to me, even if maybe they actually are intuitives. That’s one way of explaining it.

Okay, I think he might be in Ukraine

March 25, 2012

And he’s one of those people who are in the ‘gray area’ where I can’t tell if they’re an SEE or just one of those IEEs who I find… please forgive me for saying this. I don’t like some of them. They seem too overly optimistic, too ‘We can do it!!! Yippee!’ We can do it if we think we can! The Myers-Briggs test will probably mistype these people as ENFPs a lot of the time, because that damn test mistypes everyone as an intuitive if they even *value* imagination and possibilities. But his insights seem to be not interesting to me, and his excessive, positive optimism is tiresome and annoying. His little ‘nuggets of wisdom’ or ‘life’s lessons’ type of thing annoys me. He is either an SEE or one of the ‘not very compatible IEEs.’ That gray area where I don’t know (merely by reading online).

The guy who responded to my ad asking for ENFPs a while back is very, very similar to this guy, in his constant, positive, ‘We can do it! Yay us!’ attitude, and the lack of anything insightful in his insights. (to me, that is, socionically.)

Remember, everything I say about socionics is wrong. All of this will be brainwashed out of me tomorrow.