Archive for August, 2013

What happened with me and Rick DeLong, and where I am now

August 31, 2013

12:25 AM 8/31/2013

I’m writing about someone who I don’t know personally, so it’s hard to think of anything to say. I’m writing about Rick DeLong. He is the author of The Socionist blog, now called The [Ex-]Socionist, because over the years he has changed his way of looking at people and relationships and is no longer trying to explain all of it using the socionics system. I only know him from what he’s written on the internet, and from just a couple of letters and replies to my comments before he stopped speaking to me. I mostly know him implicitly, from things that he is *not* doing rather than from things that he is doing.

I will briefly tell the story of how I encountered him at first, but I have told this story before. My mental phenomena, manic moods, and experiences of hearing voices in my head are part of this story.

I often do google searches for things that the voices in my head suggest that I search for, and ‘socionics’ was one of those google searches. I had been in several Myers-Briggs forums and had also been reading about the enneagram a lot (and struggling with it). I was doing this for various reasons. I wanted to know what type I was so that I could have a better idea what I was capable of, what kinds of jobs I would be good at and enjoy doing, what was possible for people of my type, and what type of person to marry so that I could have a good relationship. In some of those forums, I had seen the word ‘socionics,’ but had never read about it, and wasn’t interested in learning a whole new system.

That one day, I did the google search, and found a few pages written in English – most socionics writings are in Russian. The page I liked the most was the one written by Rick. I loved his writing style and started ‘spidering’ the website, clicking on every page I could find and reading all of it. Then I had to find his other websites and find out more about him.

During that time period, I was still having severe problems with manic moods and strange behavior, and this included harassing people I had a crush on, and acting obnoxious, but mostly on the internet, not in real life. I did not always ‘harass’ intentionally. I didn’t talk to him with the intention of causing suffering or distress on purpose.

I started writing comments on his blogs. The comments were often very long, so long that they exceeded the maximum word count, and sometimes I wrote about sexual topics or about having babies. Most of my comments got deleted. I didn’t know whether he was deleting them himself, or whether I was having problems with the computer hackers who have been stalking and harassing me for a very long time now. I asked him about it in an email, and he said that he wasn’t deleting them, but then, later on, he *was* definitely deleting them and told me that he was, because they were inappropriate. So I still don’t know if he was always deleting them from the beginning, or not.

I had had a previous horrible experience lasting for years, where I had had a crush on someone who had stopped answering my emails. I had ended up writing a huge number of letters to that person, trying to get his attention, trying to make him answer me again.

I saw all the signs that this was about to happen again. When it happened, I wasn’t able to control my behavior, because of the moods and the drugs I was on during that time period. I wasn’t actually using drugs deliberately anymore by the time that I was interacting with Rick, but I was still reacting to the drug residues, which I have written about many times in this blog. My moods were still severely manic and I could not control what I was writing and doing online.

So, I predicted that Rick was going to start ignoring me, and that I would do crazy things to get his attention. Knowing in advance what I was about to do, and knowing that I could not stop myself from doing this, I tried to warn him and give him suggestions for how he could protect himself against me. I told him that he would probably have to filter and delete hundreds of emails from me, and that he was probably safer not even reading them. I also tried to warn him that I might try to communicate with his friends and family if he ignored me, and that I would not be able to stop myself from doing this.

It wasn’t something that I wanted to do deliberately – it was a behavior that I could not control, due to the combination of severe mania and hearing voices in my head. ‘Hearing voices in my head’ is a euphemism, when what I actually mean is ‘I am being attacked by electronic weapons, but I’m not in the mood to argue with people about whether that phenomenon is real or not, so I will merely describe one of the symptoms that I experience, which is, hearing voices and getting urges to do things or say things.’

He stopped answering my emails and my blog comments, although there was a brief time when he started answering my comments on his blog again, as though he didn’t remember who I was or as though nothing had happened. But I was not able to control my behavior and soon he started ignoring me again.

I started writing blogs about him, here at this blog and also at my blog on the16types forum, before I got banned from that forum. I wrote about him and tried to see into his life, see what kind of a person he was, see why he did the things he did.

After that, he told me that he didn’t want to talk to me because I might write about him in my blog and repeat or broadcast the things he had said. He did not want to entrust me with any vulnerable information or let me get to know him any better.

When he ignored me, I responded by blogging about him hatefully, feeling sure that he would never read any of it and that nothing that I could ever do or say would make any difference, but also wishing that he would read it and be hurt by it and would be forced to respond. That was partly my response to being ignored, but it was also partly because of the manic moods. It was not merely a normal emotional response. I wanted to do whatever I could to force him to respond to me and stop ignoring me. But I was not able to control my behavior at the time. This was not something that I calculated or did deliberately.

Then I started thinking about his wife, and ‘they,’ the voices in my head, gave me a lot of ideas and beliefs about her, including the belief that she was the ‘wrong socionic type’ to be with him, and that she was some other type, a SLE instead of a SLI. I don’t believe this now, but during that time period, I did sincerely believe that she really was a SLE.

I had an uncontrollable urge to write a letter to her and tell her that she was the wrong type for him. I had read one of her web pages and she had mentioned, briefly, a small comment about being in the doldrums for a while in the beginning of her marriage, as though it was normal to be unhappy for a while in the beginning of a marriage, for several years.

I did send her a letter. During the time when this was happening, I was severely manic, and I felt like there were no consequences to my actions, that nothing mattered, and I felt certain that the two of them would just simply bond together more strongly and unite against me. I imagined that they would receive this letter, and would both read it, and Rick would tell her who I was, that I was some crazy mentally ill person who had been writing bizarre comments on his blog, and I felt certain that they would just dismiss me as crazy, together, and that no harm would come from the letter at all. I felt like I didn’t exist, and that I was nothing to them, and that I was totally incapable of harming them or their relationship. I felt like they would not even take me seriously at all, and I thought they would just completely ignore me and not even respond at all.

However, Rick was very angry about this letter that I sent to his wife, and it was the last straw, after a long series of comments on his blog had made him angrier over the last week or so before that. He retaliated by complaining about me at the16types forum. He himself used to go to that forum, but was not writing there very much anymore. That was why I got banned from the forum. He took suggestions from other people and the moderators in the forum, and told me that if I communicated with him again, he would call the police.

This incident was the last straw for me, too.

I had been having problems with mania caused by drug residues for many years before this happened, and was slowly struggling to fix the problem, which I have written about many times in this blog and don’t feel like writing about again. To make a long story short, I have an environmental illness, where my symptoms are triggered by something in my environment, something around me, in my house or on my belongings.

I had had several incidents in the past of getting crushes on guys and then giving them the creeps and chasing them away with my bizarre behavior, my mania, and my intensity and verbosity. I would write extremely long detailed letters to people, for instance, and I would sometimes write to people who were nowhere near as verbose or literate as I was, people who could only respond with a one-sentence reply full of misspelled words.

Rick was the last person in that pattern, and he was different from the previous people – he actually was intelligent and capable of writing as verbosely as I could, and he was somebody who I seriously wanted to be with in a relationship. The previous crushes had not been serious, and I did not want to marry those people. I had been telling Rick that I wanted to marry him and have his children, and I was serious about that, but I would not have said such things if I had not been manic. I felt that I pushed him away because of my manic behavior, and that if only I had been non-manic and able to control my moods and act normal, he wouldn’t have ignored me and he wouldn’t have rejected me.

But, unlike the previous crushes, it really *mattered* this time. It didn’t matter much when I creeped out a couple of guys who I really didn’t want to be with anyway. This time, I lost, I destroyed, something of great potential value. I destroyed a relationship that I really wanted to have.

What did I like so much about Rick? I first discovered him when I noticed his writing style, but it was more than that. Yes, I loved his writing. I hate it when I write someone a complex, long-winded question, and I get a one-word monosyllabic reply of ‘No,’ or something like that. When Rick answered me, the couple of times he did, he would write lengthy explanations that were insightful and complicated and deep. I would read them more than once and see something new that I hadn’t seen before, each time.

I learned more about him. I learned that he was an IEE, my socionic dual. Even though Rick, right now, is mentally breaking free from seeing the whole world in terms of socionics, at the time when I first encountered him, I had been ‘lost’ and had no idea what kind of husband I should have or what kind of relationship or what kind of person I could be or how to accept myself. I was trying to find the answers to all of those things by reading about personality types, but was frustrated. When I learned about socionics, a lot of things suddenly made sense – my IEE best friend (female) in middle school and high school – I had always said that I wanted to have another relationship just like that, except with a guy.

But I had given up on that ideal and had been imagining that I should just choose a husband who was ‘tolerable,’ nothing more, and I did not expect to ever fall in love. The reason why I wanted a husband was so that I could raise my children in a family environment and have support. I don’t want to be a single mother, for many reasons – for example, I believe in constantly carrying a child on my hip, literally, nonstop, and never putting the kid down, and breastfeeding on demand all day and all night long. You can’t do that if you’re working at a job and leaving the kid in daycare. That’s only one of the many reasons why I need help and don’t want to be a single mother.

When I found out that there was, actually, such a thing as duality, it made me believe that I could have another relationship just as good as the duality I had with Rachael a long time ago. It gave me hope again. I had given up all hope of falling in love. I had given up hope on the idea of talking to someone and interacting with them in a natural, mutually supportive, mutually rewarding way, and instead I expected to just find a boring husband who would never really understand me and would never excite me or inspire me.

Rick inspired me. I read his web pages and found out that he enjoyed long-distance hiking. My family had never gone hiking. We lived in a rural area, so I would often go for long walks in the woods, but I never brought a sleeping bag or stayed far away from home. The only time I slept in a sleeping bag was out on the back porch during the summertime so I could look at the stars and get some fresh air. We occasionally went camping a long time ago when my parents would go on scuba diving trips, so my parents did have physical adventures in the past, but the kids were not part of it, not really. We came along but waited for them while they had the adventures, or else we went to our grandmother’s house during the weeks when they were scuba diving.

Rick was having his own adventures, and hiking is not very expensive, not really, not compared to something like scuba diving. There are a lot more expensive adventures than hiking and backpacking.

I’m sitting at McDonald’s using their wifi, and, as I write this, the song ‘Hey There Delilah’ is playing on their intercom. That song used to annoy me because I was always hearing it in a noisy environment at work where I could not hear all the lyrics. Later on, I loved the song, and found out the story behind it – the guy fell in love with, or was infatuated with, a woman named Delilah who was a long distance runner. She already had a boyfriend and had refused to date the songwriter, but did eventually meet with him (I forget the details and would have to go look it up on google again). I can relate to that song now, and I know all about the spoofs made of the song where Delilah’s attorney replies and tells him to stop stalking her. I can relate to how he feels, though, wanting to be with someone and being rejected and knowing that you can never be with them. I can hear the sadness and longing in his voice. And the song was hugely popular, so apparently, a lot of other people feel that same way.

Anyway, when I found out that Rick was hiking, it made me feel like I could do it too. I had already been thinking for years and years that I wanted to stop living in an apartment and paying rent, and go live off the grid somewhere, or live in a ‘squatter shack,’ as I called it, somewhere where I wouldn’t have to pay rent. It’s hard to pay the rent when you make fast food wages and when the labor laws force you to get a second job if you want to work more than 40 hours and get more than the maximum weekly wage resulting from those 40 hours.

I envied Rick for living the life that he lived. He already had a passive income from advertising on a web page. I had been reading about this for years and wanted to do it myself, but could not think of anything that I could make a web page about that would be popular enough to make a lot of money on advertising. He was already doing all the things that I had been reading about for years, or at least, doing most of those things – he still lived in an apartment and wasn’t living in a squatter shack, but he did spend a lot of time camping and traveling.

He also reminded me that I, too, had wanted to learn other languages, a long time ago, but had stopped trying to learn them because I didn’t know how I could quickly earn an income that way. I wanted to focus on studying something that would increase my income quickly, so I didn’t spend time studying languages. Rick, however, *did* earn an income from languages – he was a translator and interpreter in a foreign country. This, again, showed me that something was possible and reminded me that I had once wanted to do it too.

He also reminded me that geography matters. He talked about how he loved hiking and exploring the mountains and traveling to beautiful places. A long time ago, I briefly visited Colorado during a school competition, when we made it to the world finals. I loved the mountains of Colorado and always wanted to go live there, but instead, I had gotten stuck living in State College, which was meant to be temporary but became permanent when I fell into ‘the pits of hell’ and got into debt and had disaster after disaster after disaster. Rick reminded me that it actually mattered where you chose to live. You should choose a place that makes you happy and that has other factors that work well for you, a place that has things you want. I had given up and had started believing that it made no difference where I lived, I would always be miserable. There were some reasons why I believed that, but still. It is true that I will probably continue to have my unwanted mental phenomena (electronic weapon attacks and computer hacker harassment) everywhere I go. But in spite of that, I might improve my life by going someplace that has other things I want, including mountains and nice weather.

Then he began to have gradual influences on me in other ways. I was interested in economics and had been a libertarian and objectivist, and had read things written by anarchists, and in the past, I spent a lot of time doing that. I had sort of learned to disvalue, or not believe in, environmentalism. But in truth, I myself actually would have liked environmentalism a lot more. I was afraid to like it, because I had read some things that were anti-environmentalism or scornful of it, or that implied a disvaluing of it or contempt for it. Somehow, directly or indirectly, reading about Rick and his life and his interests made me feel like it was ‘okay’ for me to be an environmentalist, and to disagree with those other groups that didn’t like environmentalism. I started to feel like a lot of my instinctive, natural beliefs and desires and values were okay, and that it didn’t matter what those other groups thought. He revived my hopes and reminded me of many things that I had forgotten or pushed aside.

So when I destroyed my potential relationship with Rick, I lost something that I had really wanted. Even if we had only become friends, even if we had only just written occasional emails or blog comments to each other online and never actually met in person, I would have enjoyed interacting with him and being influenced by him. I would have enjoyed learning from him and letting myself be changed by him, and learning to like the things he liked and know the things he knew.

But I did not get much of a chance to do that. The interaction was destroyed very quickly after it started, because of my severe mania, my bizarre behavior, the voices in my head, my inability to control my impulses while writing online. I had only a few brief direct interactions with him, and then a long period where all I could do was read his web pages and learn from him indirectly without interaction.

As I said, when I lost something that really mattered, it was the last straw. I was able to finally push myself to move out of my apartment and start living in my car. I had been preparing to do something like that for a long time, and finally, it was the right moment to do it. I continued my process of getting rid of my contaminated belongings that were triggering my environmental illness and manic moods. I moved out of my car after a while, and into a tent. Rick was one of the motives that made me ready to do this. I was going to do it anyway, but now, I had an even stronger reason to do it.

That is rationalizing, in a way: the voices in my head, the attackers, are evil, and what they did to me, and to us, was evil. They should never have destroyed our relationship. I should have at least been allowed to have just a normal online interaction with him, with emails or blog comments or interaction in the forum. There was no reason why this had to happen. I am not thanking them for destroying my potential relationship with him, nor am I rationalizing that something good came out of it. The entire incident was staged, and I was a puppet, and I had no control over any of it. The timing was staged, the ‘last straw’ was staged, all of it was controlled by the attackers who manipulate all of my life every day. Maybe ‘they’ think that it was somehow ‘necessary and helpful’ to force me to destroy a potentially good relationship with someone, but I disagree – that never should have happened.

The only rationale that might possibly remotely make sense is: if he had come over to visit me, he would have gotten contaminated by my toxic apartment and toxic belongings. If I had gone to visit him, I could have possibly brought only clean, new belongings, and would not necessarily have endangered him, although, at the time, it would have been hard to do that, and I would have needed to do other things, like wash my dreadlocks, which were also contaminated at that time. I might not have been able to enforce all of the rules and the boundaries that were needed to protect other people against my contamination, and I was accustomed to not being believed or taken seriously by anyone about the drug residue contamination. My previous boyfriend, Peter, had ignored the drug residues, and my father had also scorned the idea of them and called me a hypochondriac, but both Peter and my father experienced sudden, severe health problems that seemed to have been triggered by visiting my apartment and getting contaminated with my toxic drug residues and poisons. I can’t prove it.

But I gave up trying to protect anybody, and was accustomed to being disbelieved and called a hypochondriac and not taken seriously, so I would not have been able to protect Rick against the drug residues. I know that the drug residues exist, and I can prove it by demonstration if anybody ever wants to experience it, but I am not strong enough to constantly fight against other people who don’t believe me. So, Rick was safer staying away from me. And I myself would have been continually recontaminated if Rick had gotten contaminated while I was in a relationship with him. I might have been able to clean up and get rid of my own belongings, but not Rick’s. I cannot tell someone else that they must throw in the garbage every single belonging that they own because it has toxic drug residues on it that will never wash off.

I have done a major decontamination recently, but it is not complete. I am still reacting to *something* in the soil, and I am still very close to my previous campsite. I need to do more testing. The next decon will be easy compared to this one because I have sorted through and gotten rid of so many things, and put stuff in ziploc bags, and organized it all.

I don’t like talking about this, because it has taken so long: so much time has been destroyed by this disaster. Hell is infinite. Hell is where Sisyphus pushes a boulder up the hill and watches it roll down again. Wikipedia says he’s being punished for deceitfulness. I wasn’t lying about anything, I was telling the truth, but I’m here, pushing my bike up Mt. Nittany Road every day and riding it down again. I’ll be getting a motorized bike soon. In hell, things happen again and again and again for extremely long periods of time, for years and years, pointless, repetitive things that waste all of your time and energy, futile things – just like real life. My hell resembles the Sisyphus hell, and it also resembles Annie’s hell in that movie… what is the name? Robin Williams – I used to have this move on videotape. ‘What Dreams May Come.’ There are spiders on my tent every day, and my whole house has collapsed, and there’s no electricity, and no water, and no gas, and it’s cold, and some of my favorite paintings are missing, the ones that remind me of my children and my sweet husband.

Rick tolerated me all this time. He said he would call the police, and I don’t know if he ever did try to call them. But I ended up writing emails to him, wondering if he read them or if he actually filtered and deleted them like he said he would do. I still don’t know. I wrote to him just to vent my insanity every day, all these months, even now, even today, all this time, constantly. I haven’t checked to see how many there are, but there are definitely hundreds and hundreds of letters. It could be more than a thousand by now, I don’t know. He doesn’t answer, he just tolerates it. I haven’t been arrested for harassment.

The tragedy is how much time has been wasted and destroyed because of my drug residues and the difficulty getting rid of them, and the constant failures when I try to decontaminate, and the exhaustion of my lifestyle in general, riding my bike everywhere and working long hours standing up and running around, so that I have no energy to go shopping or run errands or do any work at home. All the difficulties of my life slowed me down. Then I lost what little money I had saved, because I went to the hotel over and over again many times this year. The amount of time that has been lost is huge. A project that should have been done in a couple weeks has actually taken a couple years to do, and is still not completely done.

Even though this sounds extremely negative, it is actually getting better. With every decontamination that I do, the drug residues become less concentrated, and my severe manic mood swings become milder and fewer and shorter. This is really getting better, just slowly. What I am doing has an effect.

I don’t know if Rick will ever talk to me again. I know that if he does, or if I ever meet someone else and fall in love with them and want to marry them, I will not act crazy the way I did when I first encountered Rick in early 2011. I do still have mild mood swings, and I will never be perfect, I will never be perfectly sane or perfectly stable, but I am nowhere near as crazy as I was in the past. I really am different now than I was two years ago, very different. I did something to fix the problem, and it worked, because I was right about what was causing the problem.

If Rick does not ever talk to me again, he still had a positive influence on me in many ways, some of which I’m not aware of, even though I had to learn most of it indirectly just by reading his web pages and not by talking with him directly. I absorbed some attitudes and values from him even if I can’t describe what they all are, and I was changed. This whole event, this whole time period, was horrible and it should not have happened, and it was a tragic waste of time, but it really, really is getting better now for real.

The murder of plants

August 27, 2013



2:29 PM 8/27/2013

I did an experiment today. I cut into a grapevine and ripped it into long shreds, then made those shreds into a small, fragile, brittle piece of rope. The rope was two-stranded, since I don’t know how to do anything more complicated than that, except three-strand braiding, which I did not want to do. I wanted to make the kind of rope where each individual strand twists clockwise, while the two strands are twisted counterclockwise around each other, such that the untwisting of an individual strand counteracts the forces untwisting the two strands together.

I did this while crouching outside naked (except for shoes), and, miraculously, I was not bombarded by many mosquitoes, just a couple.

I succeeded in making the piece of rope.

However, a minute after I started cutting into the grapevine, I started to empathize with the grapevine. The vine actually still is connected to the ground, and there are new leaves and new vines sprouting from that place in the ground, so I did not entirely kill the vine, but I cut it off from the other parts it was connected to. It actually rejoined the ground and then put roots there, and had formed sort of a closed loop or bridge, and I cut off the center of the bridge. The part after it joined the ground is rooted and still will probably survive separately.

However, even just cutting it apart caused me to empathize with its injury. I started to feel very tired and wanted to just give up and quit doing this. I think that’s how the plant feels too – it surrendered and gave up, because it was injured so badly that it could not fight back. The hormone or substance or energy field that I felt was the feeling of resignation, giving up, surrender, tired, exhausted, just sit still and do nothing and sleep.

Then I started to cry. I cried and cried and cried while crouching there holding the vine in my hand. As I touched the open, split, green living wood of the vine, I felt it vibrating. It literally felt like a tiny vibration was constantly passing through it, like I was holding a cable with electric current running through it. I just crouched there for a long time holding on to the vine, unable to let go, feeling the current passing through it, crying, crying, and holding on to the vine. I held it the same way I might hold a person who I had discovered was injured and about to die and there was nothing I could do, except I was the one who had injured it – it wasn’t just some random accident and I wasn’t a good Samaritan who happened to be passing by at that moment. I cut it. But I could not let go and could not stop feeling its life in my hands. When I let go of the vine and stood up, I felt lightheaded like I was going to pass out.

I wondered if this ever got any easier. If I had children and was looking at them, watching them, and loving them, while I killed or hurt this plant, would I be able to do it more easily, knowing that I did it for them? Every living animal that moves and walks on the earth is a killer and a thief. Every heterotrophic organism. If you can’t just eat mineral soil, if you have to eat plant or animal substances, you are a killer and a thief just by existing. Some plants are killed when you eat them. Sometimes you take something that, perhaps, they meant for you to take, like a fruit, but other times you kill the entire vegetative body of the plant, for instance if you rip a whole cabbage out of the ground and then sell it in a grocery store. When I grew a garden, I used to just pull off a few leaves from the cabbage plant and ate them (that was in the brief time when my garden was successfully growing and wasn’t being poisoned by walnut tree juglone or being eaten by the deer – this was years ago).

Are fruits even ‘meant’ to be eaten? Sometimes seeds won’t sprout unless they get digested first. Sometimes yes, a fruit and seeds are ‘meant’ to be eaten. But can you say that you have lived your entire life eating nothing but the plant parts that were meant to be eaten? Have you never eaten a single leaf that the plant wanted to use for its own use, photosynthesis?

I’m not advocating a fruitarian diet, I’m advocating the acceptance of murder as part of life. Murder, severe injury, theft, and parasitically enslaving some living creature and taking just a few bits of it but leaving it alive. I’m not advocating suicide either. If you can’t bear to live as a heterotrophic organism that must eat molecules made by other living creatures that your body isn’t able to make by itself, then you just can’t bear to live.

I am wondering about this philosophically and looking into the future, wondering if I will be able to kill and eat an animal if I can hardly bear to even cut off parts of a vine. I think, yes, I will be able to. But it will be something like a religious experience for me. It is a sacred act even just to take parts of a living vine. It causes pain and awareness of mortality. It causes empathy and grief and guilt and trauma and the acceptance of trauma.

I could just live an ignorant life and never know where my food and materials come from, the origin of every piece of wood in every building and every house, or all the trees that were chopped down so that somebody could dig a mineral mine in the soil for every product that I buy at the store. Every piece of bare land that you walk across used to have hundreds of trees growing on it, if you live in some parts of the country (not if you live where there used to be prairie), and of course, even those prairie grasses were alive too. Is it okay to kill a young plant that has a short lifespan, like a piece of grass or a cabbage, but worse to kill a tree or a vine that lives for decades? It seems worse, but is that like saying it’s okay to kill human babies but not human adults? Again, the answer is ‘kind of yes.’ Abortion is socially acceptable to some people.

But I recently read a story about some people who got life in prison because of their non-malicious ignorance and misguided beliefs. They didn’t get the chance to learn from experience. They killed their baby by feeding it nothing but soy milk and apple juice. It died after a couple months, and they went to prison for neglect. Not only that, but they got a *life sentence*. This is absurd to me. People are ignorant and they make mistakes and it is possible to learn from those mistakes. Yes, they were indeed horribly ignorant and stupid to the extreme, but I think they would not have done the same thing again after learning from experience. Although, I didn’t read any quotes from their testimony in the court case – were they still in denial about their child’s diet causing its death? If they still said that it’s okay to feed an infant nothing but soy milk and apple juice and that they’d do it again, that’s bad.

The point is that the legal system thinks it’s *extremely bad* (worthy of a life sentence in prison) to accidentally kill an infant, whereas I think that accidentally killing an infant is much less bad than deliberately killing an adult. I think it is certainly not worthy of a life sentence.

That whole incident just adds another rule to my anarchistic belief system: Don’t even tell the government that you have children. Don’t let the government find out that your children even exist. Don’t register them with the government. Don’t do any paperwork except your own private paperwork. Don’t make them official citizens of the country. Don’t give them a social security number. Don’t let your neighbors see that you have children, unless you totally trust all of your neighbors and they share your same beliefs. Your neighbors could rat you out to the government and inform them that you have ‘unregistered children,’ and the government will come to your house and take your children away from you or give you a life sentence in prison because they don’t like the way you’re raising your children.

For example, if I casually just got pregnant right now – and I could do it *very* easily – I’ve used dating websites and I know I could easily just go right out there today and find a guy who would have casual sex with me, and I could either have sex without a condom, or else steal his semen out of the condom and then attempt to fertilize myself with it – if I did that, and then had the baby up here in the woods, and breastfed it, and didn’t tell anyone that the baby existed, and just raised it here, in the woods, it’s possible that someone would complain to the government and tell them that I was raising the child in filthy, inhumane conditions, on this dirty soil covered in sticks and twigs and leaves and bugs, that I wasn’t sending the child off to school, and so on, and they would take my child away and put me in prison for neglect – even if I was feeding the child plenty of healthy food, the child was in perfect health and contented and happy, I carried it with me on my body at all times all hours of the day and never let it leave my sight, and never put it down and never let it out of my reach for even a second. They could still call it ‘neglect’ merely because I wasn’t choosing to live the type of life that I’m supposed to live, in a ‘real house,’ with sidewalks and grassy mowed lawns and televisions and refrigerators. That makes me want to just not even tell the government that I have a child at all.

And if the child dies by accident, don’t tell anybody that it died. Don’t take the child to the hospital when it gets sick and starts to die and say ‘Help me fix this! What’s wrong with my child?’ That’s the moment when they say, ‘Oh my god, what have you been doing to this child?’ and they put you in prison. I’m just not going to have that moment.

I want to raise unregistered children, but I don’t want to raise them in total social isolation without the benefit of any economic and social cooperation at all. I want them to have friends, get married, have children, and have satisfying lives and relationships. But I can’t do that if I am surrounded by a hostile society full of untrustworthy enemies who want to rat me out to the government and tell them that I’m not allowing my child to live in a house and watch television like normal children do.

I think I had more stuff to say but I never finished it, but I will just post this anyway.

I am the ziploc bag lady, and now also the chicken-eating lady

August 23, 2013

10:25 PM 8/23/2013

I won’t write a really long blog, but just a small update.  This morning I started putting a whole bunch of stuff into large and small ziploc bags.  That will help me keep things from contaminating each other and from getting contaminated by any other sources, and will help me greatly in the future.

The soil at my new tent is not perfect, but it might be for unknown reasons.  I walked around barefoot on the soil, which has been raked so that there are no fallen leaves on it.  After walking barefoot on the soil, I went crazy and was in a very, very angry mood that would not go away until I washed my feet off.  There are two possibilities.  I am still very close to where I was camping before, and there are a lot of deer walking around there, so footprints could have easily been tracked from the badly contaminated area.  However, it could also be some naturally occurring mineral in the soil.  I remember reading about manganese making people go crazy in Australia – I don’t feel like finding the link to that article again, but basically it made them go crazy, and it was just an area that had a large amount of naturally occurring manganese in the soil.  Or, it could be some kind of leftover pesticide or something, or something from the leaves, or some other unknown substance in the soil.  Whatever it is, it’s there around my tent.

It bothers me to know that I just can’t ever walk around barefoot, ever, without going crazy.  I will need to do an experiment where I walk around barefoot someplace far away from the contamination, to see if the soil causes a reaction in other locations on the mountain.  If it does, then I will just have to always keep my shoes on.

I do feel a lot better after this decon, and I am very glad to have started bagging everything up in ziploc bags, which will make everything easier and more organized.  I am still working on a few things.

Also, I have to make this paycheck last for the next two weeks, because next week, I won’t get a paycheck.  But I should be able to do it if I eat free meals at McD every day, and hopefully I will also be able to get to Weis more often to buy the chicken leg quarters.  I really want to understand what it is about those leg quarters that is so effective at satisfying my hunger for so long.  They seem to have the perfect combination of fat and protein, the right kinds.  Maybe the bones and the marrow are in there, too.  I seem to be able to eat chicken bone marrow, unlike beef bone marrow.

In the future, I will want to raise free roaming insect-eating chickens.  I said that before, I know.  I keep wishing I had them right now so that I could find out how different that chicken is from this factory farm stuff.

I was thinking about this phenomenon of chicken legs being a miracle food that sustained me for an extremely long time afterwards.  The companies that sell food benefit from telling people to eat light, lowfat foods, because they never satisfy you, and you have to keep going back and eating a dozen small meals a day and then you get a craving for sweets or chocolate or soda or junk foods afterwards.  The less satisfied you are with your meal, the more meals you will have to buy.  But if you eat a high fat meal that somehow magically satisifies you for over twenty-four hours after you eat it, so that you can just eat chicken leg quarters and then eat nothing else at all for an entire day, all those food companies wouldn’t be able to sell soda and junk food and all the other things that you eat as you desperately try to satisfy your cravings.  I really was amazed.  I would eat just these leg quarters and a piece of fruit or something with it, and then I would not need to eat for an amazingly long time.  It made it much, much easier to get up out of bed the next morning, too.  Unfortunately they don’t sell those at all hours, only during the daytime, so I can’t get them if I go over there now.  I’m thinking about it because I’m really hungry right now and hardly got anything to eat today.

I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but I was really, really, really pleased about putting everything into ziploc bags.  That makes it so I can see things more easily, and keep them all together in one large trash bag.  I used to have everything in a whole bunch of trash bags and had to open each one and hunt for everything.  Now it’s much easier to see and to rummage through it without worrying about contaminating anything.

I have some individual items in bags, and some groups of similar items in bags.  Like, if they have a similar contamination history, a similar disposability or expendability (for example, a bag of menstrual pads that will get used up, versus a durable tool that I intend to keep for a long time), a similar function (for instance, a bag of office supplies containing some new checkbooks and ballpoint pens), etc, then I might put some items into the same bag.  But I won’t put heavily contaminated items together into a bag with brand new clean items.  I don’t have a lot of heavily contaminated items anymore, but I had one or two things that triggered a little bit of a reaction, just mild.

I feel like putting things into ziploc bags is the key to making it all easier in future decons.  I am a huge plastic user.  I could not live without plastic or do a decon without plastic.  But then again, if I were living a primitive life, I wouldn’t have been able to order a package of ephedra seeds over the internet either, and I wouldn’t have been living in an apartment with carpets that couldn’t be washed.

I think that one reason this made me feel better is because I am finally sorting through a whole bunch of stuff and really checking each and every item carefully and finding out what I still have.  I felt like my decon was not really done because I hadn’t completely sorted through a bunch of bags of stuff yet.  Now I am really getting it done.  It greatly reassures me to know that if some stuff accidentally falls out of one of the garbage bags and touches other stuff, none of it will be contaminated.  I wasn’t using ziplocs in the past because I just got in the habit of using garbage bags.  When I lived in an apartment, I had so many belongings that I could never have put them all into ziplocs.  I can only do it now because I have barely any belongings at all, and they all fit into just a couple garbage bags.  I used to have an entire apartment full of stuff, and I could only put it all into garbage bags.  That is another reason why I am pleased by the ziploc bags – it means I have hardly any belongings left.

I was also very pleased that I was able to take the bike pedals off to wash them.  Even if they are not perfectly clean, I can just do it again and again several more times.  If I decide to sell the bikes, I can sell them with less of a guilty conscience, knowing that I probably will not have enough residue on them to hurt the next person who buys it.

I’m going to post this now and maybe see if I can get anything at all at Weis.  I wasn’t able to get here early enough today to get the chicken but maybe I can get up early tomorrow and get it before I come to work.  I can totally understand why so many cultures value chicken greatly and rely on it as a staple meat.

Overall, I feel very, very hopeful and optimistic again.  I feel like I am in more control of my life, with regard to the contamination.

‘They’ have been giving me a lot of threatening, violent, disgusting nightmares.  I don’t know if it’s just because I’m feeling hopeful, successful, and optimistic, or if it’s because I have so little money – they sometimes torture me if I don’t have any money.  It’s probably both.  Last night they gave me a nightmare where I was poking someone’s eyes out.  This dream came from a couple things.  It had to do with me being ‘the cougar,’ because I remembered reading that if you were attacked by a cougar, you could try to poke its eyes out, if you had to do that to save your life.  It was also because I was riding home on my bike last night without a headlight, because I haven’t attached a headlight to that bike yet, and I need to do it one of these days soon.  When I was riding in the dark, ‘they’ were saying to me that I had surprisingly good eyesight.  After I woke up from the disgusting nightmare, they also told me that I could go blind if I got trichinellosis in my eyes.  ‘Parasites’ was a reference to my relationship with a particular person.

I don’t want to write a lot more and I’m ready to go home, but basically, I feel very, very glad I got this decon done, even though I still go crazy if I walk barefoot on the soil.  I will need to take precautions to prevent reactions to the soil, and will have to do more testing to find out if I react to walking on ALL mountain soil here, or just this little area around my camp where it was contaminated.  If I react to all the soil, well, that sucks, but there’s nothing I can do.  It will be some kind of naturally occurring mineral in the soil or something.  But even so, I feel very optimistic and very pleased.

I am annoyed at some people who are exaggerating a non-threat.

August 21, 2013

12:56 PM 8/21/2013

Well, I recently tried to get back on the socionics forum. First, I obediently clicked the link in the ‘forum rules’ page that says you can email a moderator to ask them to unban you. I did this, and no one ever responded at all.

I just made a new name and reregistered, but I did not try to hide myself – I gave myself another version of the name Nicole (Nic0le, since Nico1e and Nicole were already taken, the first one by me, and the second one by some other Nicole years ago who posted a couple times and then vanished) so that they would recognize me and could decide what to do.

Well, I tried to log in today, but it didn’t work. I don’t think I forgot my password, so I’m assuming they shut down the account.

Meanwhile, ‘they’ gave me this horrible dream last night. I don’t know if any of it was real. Here is what happened. In the middle of the night, I heard the squeal of an animal being killed by a predator, and it seemed to be very close to my tent. This actually happened before, last year, and last year it sounded like a cat, and I thought it was a cougar, although it could have been a bobcat – it was a cat’s growl, and it sounded exactly like the fake Nittany Lion growl that they play on the radio in commercial breaks. Last night, I don’t know what exactly was the sound I heard, and I can’t remember anymore, due to reasons which I will explain.

After I heard this sound of an animal being killed right near my tent, I froze and laid there perfectly still and silently, listening carefully, not moving and not making a sound. I had my spear stick outside the tent, as always – I used to keep it inside, but it was often covered with ants and centipedes and other bugs, so I keep it right outside the door of the tent now. I thought that if I just stayed perfectly silent, it was unlikely to attack me.

But while I was lying there, ‘they’ forced me to fall asleep and have a horrible dream. I dreamed that I was still lying there in my tent, looking out the open screen window of the tent, and some big black animal was there, and it looked like a black cougar. I could see its eyes shining. It looked in at me through the screen, and I looked back at it, but I kept my eyes mostly shut so that it wouldn’t be able to see light reflecting off my eyes. I just stayed perfectly still.

But then ‘they’ attacked me (in the dream) and forced my stomach to make loud gurgling bubbling noises, which sometimes does happen in real life. The cat responded by looking alert and more intently into the screen. Then my cell phone started ringing (to my horror). This made the cat become certain that there was something alive in here, and it wanted to get in. (I’ve read true stories where people were attacked by bobcats because they were snoring in their tents at night. The cats tried to rip through the tents or something.)

So it pushed its paw against the side of the tent and pressed it through without actually ripping the fabric, and pressed its paw down on me to show that it knew where I was, and to force me to stay still, because I was still scared to move or it would make the cat attack. Then it tried to press through the tent to where the cell phone noise was coming from, while still holding me down. I could not move to answer the phone, and just had to pretend to be perfectly still as though the cat didn’t know that I was alive.

Somehow, without any transition, my hand was suddenly in the cat’s mouth being bitten. I was standing up trying to pull my hand away, and I wasn’t in the tent anymore, I was outside. The cat was now tan instead of black. It was lying on its back biting my hand, but sort of being playful, but it just would not let go. I was petting it and rubbing its face, and its brow was wrinkled like the boxer dog’s face is wrinkled, and I was petting and rubbing it playfully all over its body, and I said, ‘Your skin is so tight!’ (Yes, I know. I’ll explain this in a minute.) It had short hair that felt like the boxer dog’s fur. I felt like it was extremely dangerous and it could kill me any second, and I couldn’t get away, but it wasn’t killing me, and yet I couldn’t trust it and I was terrified of it, still thinking it was going to kill me any minute now.

Then I woke up, and I was still terrified, still thinking that the animal was nearby. But since I had been forced to fall asleep and have a dream, I couldn’t remember for sure whether the noise had actually been real, or fake, and I couldn’t remember exactly how it sounded or exactly where it had been. If I had stayed awake, I would have paid very careful attention to the sounds, to hear if the animal was walking away and cracking the sticks and leaves on the ground, or something, and I would know exactly where it had gone. For all I knew, it might still be sitting there right outside my tent, which was where the sound had seemed to come from. I couldn’t listen to the movements of the animal because I was forced to be asleep and dreaming, which would not have happened if I weren’t being attacked by electronic weapons.

There are a couple possibilities: The sound could have been fake, a fake hallucination or fake dream. I *thought* it had been real, but after I was forced asleep and forced to have a dream, I couldn’t remember enough anymore, and was confused and uncertain about what had really happened. I know from my own experiences and from the experiences of other electronic harassment victims that ‘they’ will sometimes make a totally fake noise that you hear externally, someplace nearby, which is very different from hearing voices inside your head. They can make external noises, but they don’t do that to me very often. I just know that other victims have described this happening to them. I often feel that I’ve had it much easier than a lot of the other victims have had it.

Or, they could have controlled a real animal and forced it to be someplace near my tent while it killed another real animal that had also been forced to be there. They can control the movements of animals just like they control people.

It could have theoretically been totally random, a real animal walking around and by coincidence just happening to kill something near my tent, and somebody seized the opportunity to give me a fake dream, since they didn’t think I was in any danger from the animal. I don’t think that’s what happened though.

I think most likely the original sound of the animal was probably a fake hallucination. I didn’t really look around, so I don’t know if there were any ‘signs of a struggle’ near my tent, or blood on the ground. They say that cougars make bloodless kills though – they sort of strangle the prey by biting its neck.

Okay, now I am going to explain the ‘meaning’ of this incident. I’m sure it was a puppet incident and it was referring to my attempt to get back into the socionics forum. I myself was portrayed as, or perceived as, a ‘dangerous cougar,’ an older woman trying to ‘hook up with’ younger guys. I say that with disdain because that’s not really what I am. I think that Rick must have gotten a phone call, which was represented by the cell phone ringing in my dream. They called him to discuss with him the fact that I had attempted to make a new account in the forum. The forum moderators know him personally and are friends with him, so they might have asked him about it. Maybe Rick didn’t answer the phone when they called him.

The cougar’s body represents my body, and its resemblance to Buster/the boxer dogs represents my true nature as someone who is cheerful and friendly and harmless and loyal, more like a boxer dog than a scary, mean, evil, predatory cougar. (Yes, I’m aware that dogs are predatory too. But they are easier and safer for humans to befriend than cougars are.) I also had wrinkles on my brow in the photo that I had as my forum avatar, because it was sunny outside and I was squinting a little bit, and I have a permanent line between my brows, which is almost always visible even when my face is relaxed.

‘Your skin is so tight’ means that I’m not fat or wrinkly (except for the brow line) and still attractive at my age (except for the dreadlocks, which are not going the way I would like them to – and the other day, there were, I think, THREE separate incidents where people yelled ‘nice hair!’ or wolf-whistled at me out the windows of passing cars, which tells me that the new Penn State students are arriving, and they don’t know me and haven’t gotten used to me yet). The cougar in the dream was terrifying, untrustworthy, yet friendly and playful at the same time, and wasn’t letting go of my hand, which represents what I myself am doing to Rick and how I am making him feel, apparently. You can’t trust the cougar because it’s evil and it wants to kill you and eat you, but yet, it doesn’t seem to be doing that, even after all this time.

I actually do want to talk about socionics and see no reason why I shouldn’t be allowed to go back to that forum. Yes, there are other forums I could go to, but I liked that one, and also, I want some people to recognize that I was treated unjustly and perceived wrongly. I’m not a threat and I’m not attacking anyone. I had *MANIA*, and that was all that was wrong with me. I’m still not perfect, but I’m also not dangerous, and never have been.

The idea of befriending a scary, dangerous animal is something that I’ve seen in several videos, like ‘The Grizzly Man’ (oh, I forgot about the second incident! I’ll tell it now), who goes to Alaska and lives near the grizzly bears. Most of the bears tolerated him for a very long time, but he was eventually killed by an unfamiliar bear at the time of year when the bears were very hungry and were preparing for winter.

I have also recently watched YouTube videos where people kept bobcats and cougars as pets. I’m not really happy about it, but still, they did it, and they were able to touch them and pet them. I can see that they’re still dangerous and that you should still be careful with them, and you must always, always make sure they’ve been fed enough, because if they’re hungry, they’re dangerous. Wild animals do not really ‘like’ being kept as pets in a confined place. So, that was part of the theme of the dream – that it’s possible to befriend a wild cat and make it a pet and touch it the way you would a housecat or dog or other domestic animal, but it can be dangerous and you have to be careful how you do it.

After that, I went back to sleep again. This morning I was lying in bed looking out the screen again, and I heard something approaching the tent. I wasn’t scared. It sounded small or medium sized. The face of a baby black bear suddenly appeared in my window, sniffing through the screen, and it suddenly jerked away and ran off. The voice in my head said, ‘Hey there, cutie, what are you up to?’ It wasn’t the same baby bear that had been pushing against my tent last year. That one would have grown up by now.

This time, I didn’t scream. Last time, I had a little basket of sugar plums in my tent, which smelled really good, and the bear wanted it, and I was scared that the bear might try to rip through my tent or knock the tent down by pushing on it, so I yelled loudly at the bear, and it ran away, and I saw that it had a radio collar around its neck, which made me feel sorry for it. The collars must be extremely uncomfortable, and anyone who says they aren’t is lying. You try wearing one and never taking it off. They interfere with movements, and when polar bears have collars, they can’t stick their heads through holes in the ice to get food, so they have to go hunting for garbage at human settlements, which causes conflicts with humans. The collared polar bears are starving to death because of the collars. This time, I didn’t get a good look and didn’t see if the bear had a collar. It wasn’t visible from what I saw of its head through the screen. I didn’t move or make a sound, but the bear suddenly pulled away. I just sat there quietly waiting, but it didn’t come back.

When I got up and started to prepare to do my tasks for today, I decided it was time to make a new bear stick, my spear. It’s also a cougar stick. I carry it just in case any animal should ever attack me. It wouldn’t defend me against a whole pack of wolves, but just a single animal. My old spear was contaminated, and I proved that for certain when I came back to the mountain after my decon. I was all perfectly clean and showered, wearing brand new clothes, and when I picked up the spear, a few seconds later I had a bunch of severe heart palpitations and my heart speeded up, which results from touching the residues. Those palpitations *only* happen if I am perfectly clean, then suddenly touch a residue. If I’m already all contaminated, then I don’t get any more palpitations. They only happen during a transition from clean to contaminated. That type of thing is even more pronounced if I am perfectly clean and also decaffeinated.

My old spear was broken anyway, and a little bit rotten. So I found a new stick, and, oddly enough, finding a stick on the ground in the woods isn’t as easy as you might think. If you are in a hurry and you need a stick *now*, like if an animal were attacking you and you didn’t have a stick yet, you’d have to hunt around for a couple minutes to find a good one. Sticks on the ground are almost always rotten and soft. When you pick them up, they crumble and break, and you wouldn’t be able to use it to push away or poke at an animal that was attacking you. It would make a perfect scene in a movie – I’m always imagining this – the sort of horrible comedy of picking up a stick amongst millions of sticks, trying to hold it up and poke the animal with it, only to see the stick break and bend, and then you go pick up another, and another, and they all do the same thing.

So I find a good stick and keep it for a long time, and I recognize it when I drop it on the ground. I had a spider stick, too, and it was orange. I don’t know what type of tree it was, but it has orange bark. I liked that spider stick, but I got rid of it too, and found another one that wasn’t orange and that I didn’t like as much. However, the spear is orange. I need to find out what type of tree that is. Orange is one of my favorite colors.

I had unwrapped the duct tape (and later, masking tape, when the stick broke and I couldn’t find the duct tape and had to use the lint roller tape) and taken my knives off the end of the old rotten spear. I just put them on the end of the new spear and wrapped them up with duct tape again.

I absolutely have to have a spider stick at this time of year. The spiderwebs are everywhere. There’s one every couple feet. You have to take a couple steps, wave the stick around, make sure you got it all, and then move on to the next spiderweb a few feet down the path. Even so, I always miss a couple of them, and start cursing and freaking out when a web goes across my face, and the poor spider is frantically trying to crawl away to get on a branch, not trying to attack me at all, but still I’m terrified of it and I’m feeling through my hair to see if the spider got on me. One day, I was walking down the path and I looked down at my right shoulder, and a little spider was just sitting there on my shoulder, riding along. It wasn’t crawling, it wasn’t biting me, it was just taking a ride. But I flicked it off. I just can’t make myself not be scared of spiders.

Isn’t it strange that you can get familiar with a unique stick, a stick that you haven’t even changed in any way, other than maybe breaking a part of it off, and you haven’t even done any kind of crafting or carving on it, and it’s just a stick, but still it feels special and familiar and you’re reluctant to get rid of it? It makes me think of buddhism, and how attachment leads to suffering. It’s the most worthless thing on earth, just a stick on the ground, but I am attached to it and it hurts to throw it away.

I figured out how to remove my bike pedals, and I did it. I thought I had to remove the entire crank, and on the YouTube videos, that looked really complicated. Some people were using a special ‘crank tool’ and doing all these steps, first putting one tool on, then another, turning them different directions and all kinds of stuff. I didn’t know if I would be able to do that, and I definitely don’t have a special crank tool for bikes. (I know I could do it if I had all the tools.)

But I also read about removing just the pedals themselves and not the whole crank. I looked at them, and thought that I could do it just by using an adjustable wrench, which I have. I tried that this morning, and it worked. I have them with me now, in a bag, and I’m going to try again to clean them off more thoroughly.

I got my direct deposit today, and I have to make it last for two weeks, which means I have to eat really cheap food, and eat as many meals at work as I can, since I get half-price or free meals there. Next week will be the week without a paycheck, from my unpaid vacation.

After a couple weeks, when I have enough money, I am going to try to get a motorized bike. This is an experiment. It might not work out for me. The motorized bikes are hard to use. If they get wet, there are some parts of the motor that will die. You have to cover them with something. I will have to get a tarp to put over the bike, and will have to wrap up the Magneto part (the one part that dies when it gets wet) or put caulk through the holes like one person said they did. If it doesn’t work out for me, oh well, it was a learning experience. I can’t use an electric one yet because I have no place to plug it in, so it will be gas powered. If I can get this to work, then I won’t be physically exhausted merely from going down the mountain to get something to eat. That will enable me to get more work done, and my progress will go faster.

I have discovered the miracle of Factory Farm Roasted Chicken Leg Quarters at Weis Market. I used to cook them all the time when I worked there, but didn’t appreciate them. Ideally, I don’t want factory farm chicken, but it’s all that’s available. They’re very cheap: $2.50, I think. You get the drumstick and thigh. It’s greasy and filling, and if you eat one of those, you don’t feel hungry again for a very long time. I could probably eat one and then go several days without eating anything. This is very helpful and necessary for me, exactly what I need. I suspect they have hormones in them, and my legs will get fat if I eat a lot of them. But even so, if I can get those frequently, they will help me get a lot of calories and fat and feel full for a long time, while spending very little money, so I can get through these two weeks without another paycheck.

Someday I want to have my own chickens, and I will let them eat insects in the forest. Then I will find out what hormone-free chicken is like, after a couple years. You let the hens lay eggs for a few years and eventually when they stop laying eggs you can eat the hens. I will be attached to them as pets and won’t want to kill them, which is what many chicken owners say, but I will eat them when they get very old. I won’t be in a hurry to kill them that very instant. I’m wondering if I would just let the old chickens die on their own, then eat them, but I’m a little nervous about that, because if a chicken dies of ‘old age,’ are they really dying of a disease or something, which I could catch by eating them? I think it’s dangerous to eat something that died on its own. If something made that animal die, it could make you die too. There have been stories of people eating animals that died, like some people who died of the black plague after they ate a camel that had died for unknown reasons.

I still have to do my cleaning task for today, the bike pedals, which are in a bag in my backpack. I’m not sure what I’ll do first. I could go to Weis and get a chicken leg. I’m going to be sick of eating the chicken legs after eating them too often. But I need them for now. I really, really wish it were possible to get free-roaming, insect-eating chickens that haven’t even been fed any corn or any grain or any food at all. It’s possible to let chickens roam and completely feed themselves, and you feed them absolutely nothing. They eat worms and bugs and little plants and seeds. I want to know how fat they get when you let them eat that way. That will be the naturally occurring amount of chicken fat, and I’m guessing that it will probably contain a lot of Omega-3 and other good fats that aren’t in the factory farm chickens.

Oh well, I will post this for now. I’m going back to work tomorrow. I was scheduled off today, for some reason, maybe by accident – I might have accidentally written an extra day on my vacation or something. Someone texted me and asked me to come in, since they had some calloffs, but I could not bring myself to call her back – I really, really want to try washing off these bike pedals, but I feel pathetic when I try to explain to people that I’m doing an important cleaning project on my vacation and I still am not completely done with it. It’s hard to explain why it takes so long, why it’s so hard, why it’s so important, why I haven’t already done this a hundred times already, and so on. Everything takes me forever to do. Hopefully, a motorized bike will be able to help me, I *hope*. I won’t get exhausted merely from going down the mountain every day.

A clean universe – how it’s supposed to be, for a while

August 19, 2013

3:57 PM 8/19/2013

The first couple days in a clean universe are good days. For a couple days, you get to remember what life was like before this disaster happened. I’ve changed into fresh, uncontaminated clothing, and taken a shower, and I’m wearing a brand new backpack. This good feeling is not psychological, but physical. All my other clothes and belongings had collected a bunch of different unknown residues over time, which could not be washed out.

Before I put on these new clothes and shoes, every time I stood up, I would get dizzy because my blood pressure was low. Now it’s back to normal, so that I can stand up quickly and my blood pressure is instantly what it’s supposed to be. Low blood pressure upon standing is a side effect of St. John’s Wort. I don’t recall the exact word for it, but it was something like ‘autonomic depression,’ or something, where some of your body functions aren’t working as well as they should, including blood pressure. When everything is functioning the way it’s supposed to, your blood pressure changes quickly depending on what situation you’re in, whether you’re standing or sitting or lying down or getting up after sitting down, whatever. There’s a name for this problem with blood pressure, something other than ‘autonomic depression,’ but I’d have to google it. Orthostatic hypotension.

There are things I notice when I stay at the hotel, things which aren’t necessarily caused by chemicals per se. The windows are closed. You can open them, but sometimes they’re broken and they won’t open. If you sleep in there all night long with the windows closed, the air gets stale and has too much carbon dioxide, so you feel like you’re suffocating in the middle of the night. I usually turn on the vent in the bathroom, which slightly helps. It pulls some air in from the hallway. Using the vent is okay unless there are people smoking outside down below your window. Now that I’m not living in a house, I don’t have any problems with windows being closed and the air being stale. But, one of the symptoms that seems to be associated with this is tingling in my feet. My feet will fall asleep too easily. That symptom is worsened by drugs and residues.

So many people go to the doctor, take drugs, and get worse, but I know the solutions to many health problems – not all, but many – so that you can change your lifestyle somehow to troubleshoot them. I know there are some general procedures you can follow to fix a lot of problems without even knowing for sure what exactly the problems are.

I’m expecting that my stuff will gradually get contaminated for a couple of reasons. First, I still have a few mildly contaminated belongings in a bag, which I did not finish sorting through. That bag is in my new tent now, the clean tent. Second, I believe that there might be footprints of residue on the main path, in the woods around the general area where I’ve been camping, and on the ground at the yard where I park my bike. If the concentration is low, then it will take a long time before I notice the effects.

My shoes will get wet, and I’ll notice that I’m getting manic when my shoes get wet, and then, that’s when my whole tent and all my clothing gets ruined, because I’ll get into my sleeping bag with contaminated feet, which will contaminate the inside of the sleeping bag and contaminate all of the clothes that I’m wearing and all of my skin if I’m not wearing clothes. The feet have to be washed very thoroughly over and over again, and fresh socks and shoes have to be put on, and even after washing, some residues remain. You have to wash them *a lot* to get most of the residues off to prevent contamination of the inside of the sleeping bag. In the future, it’s very likely that this will happen. It’s only a matter of time. That exact thing has already happened several times.

I remember moving to the new apartment in Bellefonte, which was clean when I got there. Gradually, accidents happened, which caused the apartment to get footprints in it. Some of it was because the maintenance man didn’t follow my rules. He walked over the spot where I was taking off my shoes outside the door, and walked into my house without removing his shoes, and made footprints of residues all up the steps. I think I did it myself a couple times, too, by accident, by stepping in the wrong place with my socks on, and that kind of thing.

I am not confident about my decon yet. I do not feel safe attempting to move back into an apartment. I’m thinking about all the luxuries I could have – a refrigerator, a stove, and a shower, and a feeling of safety during thunderstorms. I don’t need a lot of heat in the winter, not as much as is customarily used, since it’s there only to prevent the pipes from freezing. But since I have heat, I’ll crank it all the way up. When it’s there, I use it a *lot*.

I will wait a few weeks and observe the results of this decon. I am very cautious and pessimistic about it, knowing what I know about just how horrible these residues are, how they linger on everything they touch, how they keep coming back again and again just when you thought they were gone, like the zombies in a horror movie. They’re *exactly* like zombies. You thought they were gone, you thought you were safe, then all of a sudden one grabs you and everyone screams. That’s essential to the plot. There has to be some moment when everyone relaxes and thinks it’s safe when it isn’t really safe. That happens to me again and again with every decon that I do.

But today, briefly, for a few moments, I get to remember *almost* how it feels to be healthy. I’m still addicted to coffee and want to break that addiction. I’m still having some problems with residues. I was wiping off a few surfaces on the bikes and putting cellophane wrap over the pedals and handgrips, and I got hit with a residue, so that, a while later, I went into tobacco withdrawal. I had this extremely intense and uncomfortable craving for an unknown something, and it was all the worse because I wanted to resist it. I want to quit coffee again, but when you’re constantly under the influence of transdermal drug residues, you always have these cravings that get triggered every time you go into withdrawal from a residue. Only some of the cravings are from the coffee withdrawal itself. A lot of it is tobacco withdrawal – I do have tobacco in the residues.

The most noticeable and dramatic change that I saw so far was when I stood up from a sitting position and had no difficulty standing and walking immediately because my blood pressure changed the way it was supposed to, as I described above. That was a huge, dramatic difference. I was all anticipating the couple seconds of staggering and moving slowly and trying not to fall over, but it didn’t happen, and I just bounded away like a deer, with a spring in my step. It’s supposed to be that way.

Wal-Mart products have labels that say these things have a chemical known to the state of California to cause cancer

August 19, 2013

1:25 AM 8/19/2013

I was at Wal-Mart looking for the tools I wanted, and I picked up one of the really cheap ones, the cheapest one there, made in China, of course. A warning label on the back said, ‘This product contains a chemical known to the state of California to cause cancer and birth defects.’ I have seen this label before, and wondered about it. I have a lot of mixed feelings. Sometimes I have felt contempt, as though the warning was unnecessary and I shouldn’t take it seriously. Sometimes I thought they were overreacting by putting that warning on there. I wondered how it could still be sold at Wal-Mart if it had something in it that was known to cause cancer, and therefore, it must not really cause cancer.

This is a crisis of faith in humanity, in Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart might really be selling something that is known to cause cancer, and when we read these warning labels, we have to reconcile this and accept whatever feelings we feel about it.

I have seen that label several times, but since I have been buying things to be kept only temporarily, I didn’t mind it that much – I’ve thrown away any of the items that I ever bought in the past that had that label on them, because of my decons and getting rid of all my belongings. I still bought a couple things anyway.

But tonight, as I stood there holding this tool, the cheapest one available (“Ultra Steel”), I could feel something in the plastic making the skin of my hand tickle. It was an intense, disgusting, unpleasant tickle, sort of like nausea. I felt like I would vomit if a large amount of that feeling were to happen at once. It felt like an electrical current was going through my skin, almost. It felt exactly the way that I feel when I am touching my drug residues. But when I put down the tool, the sensation went away. It only seemed to happen if I was actually holding the tool in my hand. In other words, it wasn’t wiping a whole bunch of poison residues onto my hand. I still don’t understand this phenomenon, but have experienced it with the residues too – they somehow seem to stick in clothing so they don’t wash out, but yet, they are able to penetrate my skin, even though they won’t let go of the clothing no matter how hard I try to make them. Are they really even separating from the clothing and entering my skin, I wonder, or is it really one of those New Age ‘Energy’ type phenomena, where the ‘energy signature’ of the molecules is doing something to me even if the molecules themselves aren’t going through my skin?

I did wash my hands afterwards, though. I decided not to buy that particular tool. I decided that California was probably right about this chemical, whatever it was, which meant that it wasn’t necessarily just Wal-Mart who was doing something bad, but also the US government, who was allowing cancer-causing chemicals to be sold elsewhere besides California. It’s the same as the warning labels on prescription drugs. People tell you to just ignore them. They say not to worry about all that stuff. It won’t happen to you.

Someone on the internet said that the cancer labels are there ‘just for compliance reasons.’ He meant, you can just ignore them, they’re just complying with some law in California, and, obviously, the law is overkill, he was implying, and unnecessary.

They have these little small warning labels, but people assume that if the warning were actually true, then we would act accordingly, and not sell it. People don’t assume that we would give you a warning and then act against the warning and do the opposite of what we should do. They assume the warning must be just wrong, if all these people are ignoring it. They assume that people are trustworthy and that people care about other people’s health and welfare. It’s unthinkable to imagine that somebody out there really knows for sure, absolutely for certain, that this chemical causes cancer, but they’re selling it anyway.

It must be something that only causes cancer sometimes, in some circumstances, but not all of the time for everybody. But yet, many people get cancer and don’t know why they got it. How many people with cancer were buying and handling plastics that contained toxic chemicals?

But I could feel something intense, nauseating, and tickly going through my skin as I held this object. What was it, exactly? It was in the plastic. I knew it could be bisphenol-A, but there are millions of other dangerous chemicals that it could be. I’m reading on the net now, and they’re mentioning flame retardant chemicals too.

Anyway, I didn’t buy that tool. And I haven’t taken off the pedal cranks yet from the bike, because it’s dark outside and I’m very tired. I was walking all over the place today. Most of my day was spent traveling from one place to another either on foot, on bike, or on a bus, or sitting and waiting for another bus so that I could transfer from one bus to another. It was a very inefficient day. I am looking forward to trying a motorized bicycle. I’m guessing that all the components of the motor are made with cancer-causing chemicals, too, and that the exhaust will blow up on me from behind and get all over me and in my hair and my clothes and my skin every day. But I want to try it anyway to see if I can do it. I don’t have to keep it forever. It will be a learning experience.

Wal-Mart products have labels that say these things have a chemical known to the state of California to cause cancer

August 19, 2013

1:25 AM 8/19/2013

I was at Wal-Mart looking for the tools I wanted, and I picked up one of the really cheap ones, the cheapest one there, made in China, of course. A warning label on the back said, ‘This product contains a chemical known to the state of California to cause cancer and birth defects.’ I have seen this label before, and wondered about it. I have a lot of mixed feelings. Sometimes I have felt contempt, as though the warning was unnecessary and I shouldn’t take it seriously. Sometimes I thought they were overreacting by putting that warning on there. I wondered how it could still be sold at Wal-Mart if it had something in it that was known to cause cancer, and therefore, it must not really cause cancer.

This is a crisis of faith in humanity, in Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart might really be selling something that is known to cause cancer, and when we read these warning labels, we have to reconcile this and accept whatever feelings we feel about it.

I have seen that label several times, but since I have been buying things to be kept only temporarily, I didn’t mind it that much – I’ve thrown away any of the items that I ever bought in the past that had that label on them, because of my decons and getting rid of all my belongings. I still bought a couple things anyway.

But tonight, as I stood there holding this tool, the cheapest one available (“Ultra Steel”), I could feel something in the plastic making the skin of my hand tickle. It was an intense, disgusting, unpleasant tickle, sort of like nausea. I felt like I would vomit if a large amount of that feeling were to happen at once. It felt like an electrical current was going through my skin, almost. It felt exactly the way that I feel when I am touching my drug residues. But when I put down the tool, the sensation went away. It only seemed to happen if I was actually holding the tool in my hand. In other words, it wasn’t wiping a whole bunch of poison residues onto my hand. I still don’t understand this phenomenon, but have experienced it with the residues too – they somehow seem to stick in clothing so they don’t wash out, but yet, they are able to penetrate my skin, even though they won’t let go of the clothing no matter how hard I try to make them. Are they really even separating from the clothing and entering my skin, I wonder, or is it really one of those New Age ‘Energy’ type phenomena, where the ‘energy signature’ of the molecules is doing something to me even if the molecules themselves aren’t going through my skin?

I did wash my hands afterwards, though. I decided not to buy that particular tool. I decided that California was probably right about this chemical, whatever it was, which meant that it wasn’t necessarily just Wal-Mart who was doing something bad, but also the US government, who was allowing cancer-causing chemicals to be sold elsewhere besides California. It’s the same as the warning labels on prescription drugs. People tell you to just ignore them. They say not to worry about all that stuff. It won’t happen to you.

Someone on the internet said that the cancer labels are there ‘just for compliance reasons.’ He meant, you can just ignore them, they’re just complying with some law in California, and, obviously, the law is overkill, he was implying, and unnecessary.

They have these little small warning labels, but people assume that if the warning were actually true, then we would act accordingly, and not sell it. People don’t assume that we would give you a warning and then act against the warning and do the opposite of what we should do. They assume the warning must be just wrong, if all these people are ignoring it. They assume that people are trustworthy and that people care about other people’s health and welfare. It’s unthinkable to imagine that somebody out there really knows for sure, absolutely for certain, that this chemical causes cancer, but they’re selling it anyway.

It must be something that only causes cancer sometimes, in some circumstances, but not all of the time for everybody. But yet, many people get cancer and don’t know why they got it. How many people with cancer were buying and handling plastics that contained toxic chemicals?

But I could feel something intense, nauseating, and tickly going through my skin as I held this object. What was it, exactly? It was in the plastic. I knew it could be bisphenol-A, but there are millions of other dangerous chemicals that it could be. I’m reading on the net now, and they’re mentioning flame retardant chemicals too.

Anyway, I didn’t buy that tool. And I haven’t taken off the pedal cranks yet from the bike, because it’s dark outside and I’m very tired. I was walking all over the place today. Most of my day was spent traveling from one place to another either on foot, on bike, or on a bus, or sitting and waiting for another bus so that I could transfer from one bus to another. It was a very inefficient day. I am looking forward to trying a motorized bicycle. I’m guessing that all the components of the motor are made with cancer-causing chemicals, too, and that the exhaust will blow up on me from behind and get all over me and in my hair and my clothes and my skin every day. But I want to try it anyway to see if I can do it. I don’t have to keep it forever. It will be a learning experience.

Pawpaws and plums and pears

August 18, 2013

I don’t have time to put a picture yet, because I’m about to go shopping tonight, but today I found a couple of fruit trees when I walked through Lemont.  I was going up the hill to see if I had the right tools for my bikes (I don’t) in the tent.  I saw a tree that had very tiny things on it that looked like little nectarines.  They are orange, a mixture of yellow dappled with red speckles that make them look orange.  I think I might have noticed the pretty flowers on these trees in the spring, but I’m not sure.  They also have thorns or spines.  They’re not really sharp, they’re blunt spines.  I was pulling off a branch to take with me so that I could look up an image of the leaves on Google, and while pulling this branch off, I stabbed my palm very deeply with one of those spines, and it bled.  I googled a couple different things like ‘miniature nectarines,’ and one thing led to another, and I thought they could be cherries or plums.  I’ve decided they’re miniature plums.  I ripped one open and it looks like a nectarine inside.  It’s an orange, meaty flesh, not really juicy, but not dry.  They are about the same size as the plums I bought last year from the Amish at the farmer’s market.  I had those plums in my tent, which attracted the baby bear with the radio collar around its neck, which was huffing and puffing outside my tent in the morning one day, sniffing the fruits inside, and I got scared and yelled and chased the baby bear away.  I decided not to keep any fruit in my tent anymore.

The other day I discovered a pawpaw tree.  It’s amazing that I was able to recognize it, because I’ve only seen a couple of them in my entire life.  However, the fruit is so strange and unusual, so unlike any other fruits, that I recognized it.  The context in which I found it was kind of funny.  I was walking up the hill and I had been sick with the virus or parasites or whatever it was.  I had an emergency.  I had to run off the edge of the road into someone’s gravel driveway and spew diarrhea behind some bushes where no one could see me.  It absolutely could not wait.  I was very sick.  When I looked up, I noticed I was right underneath a pawpaw tree.  I picked one of the fruits today so I could look it up on google, and it is very definitely a pawpaw.

The nutrient content of pawpaws tells us more about organically grown wild fruits versus cultivated fruits than it does about pawpaws as such, I think.  I might have to fix this link, but: This page says that pawpaws have a lot more trace minerals in them than the usual cultivated fruits do (bananas, apples, etc).  I suspect that this is because pawpaw trees are native American plants that grow in the wild, instead of on a tree farm that gets chemical fertilizers without any trace minerals.  That’s just my guess.  I won’t try to eat this now because it’s green.  They turn yellow like bananas.

The other thing I found was a bunch of pear trees, in the strangest place.  I was walking to Weis Market the other day, and I noticed that there are these trees planted in a very narrow little place, pressed against the edge of a brick wall on the side of the building.  The trees are so narrow that they aren’t round or ‘three dimensional’ like trees usually are.  They just grow upwards and look flat against the wall.  Two or three of these are pear trees with pears on them.  I tried one small rotten pear with a brown bruise on it (avoiding the bruise), and it was perfect and delicious.

I’ve seen millions of apple trees too, but I don’t like apples, so I’m not all excited about the fact that the apples are ripening – I just think that I’d like to make them all into vinegar, as an experiment, to see if I were able to make vinegar.

But I *am* all excited about finding pear trees, because I really love pears.  I already knew there was a pear tree where I parked my bike on the mountain, but it was interesting and funny to see these pears growing right next to a grocery store which sells pears.  You can just walk outside the grocery store and get infinite pears for free, or you can walk inside the store and get a limited number of pears for a price.  I want to put up a sign telling the customers that they can get free pears just around the corner.  Infinite free pears!

I’d really like to collect all the walnuts and hazelnuts, too, but those are harder to process.  Today I crouched down and smashed a hazelnut with a rock.  It was hard to smash it, and then, it was very hard to pull out the pieces of nut from the nutshell.  They were in there very tightly, stuck down.  I don’t know how anyone gets them out.  Maybe they have to be soaked.  I nibbled a few bits of them.  They were kind of tasteless, actually.  I think nuts acquire most of their taste by being roasted.  I don’t really *mind* that they’re tasteless, and I would probably appreciate their taste if I got used to it.

As for the black walnuts, I have never attempted to rip them open and crack them.  I’ve read that they’re such a pain to process that that’s why nobody bothers to sell them.  You have to use special machines and devices to do it.  I’m remembering someone, probably my Uncle Eugene who recently died, telling a story about how he and some friends rigged up a device that used a spinning car wheel, while the car was jacked up off the ground, and the wheel was connected to a belt, which rubbed against the walnut husks somehow to rip them apart en masse.

I thought about it.  What if I foraged and collected all this food and stored it for the winter?  I’d have to have so much food that it would last through all of winter, all the way through to June or July or whenever it is that the raspberries and then blackberries start ripening.  What if I was using all this stuff as my staple food?  (I never have found the hopniss plant yet, but I’m still looking.)  I would have to dry the foods out to store them, so I’d have lots of dried fruits.  Maybe nuts can be made into nut flour – I’ve read about that.  Is it necessary, so that they stay dry and don’t rot?  And I would have to spend hours upon hours upon hours not merely collecting all the fruits and nuts, but then processing all of them as well, breaking open the nuts, slicing up the fruits to dry them – and it would all have to be done as quickly as possible before all the food spoiled.  It would take dozens of laborers.  We would have to have a harvest feast like the primitive people and traditional cultures used to do.  And we could feed some of it to the pigs, or something, which would transform all those fruits and nuts into edible animal fat.

I am just amazed that our culture is so wasteful.  I see so many fruit trees everywhere, but nobody is picking them.  All the fruits and nuts just fall to the ground and rot.  These people can’t *all* be exhausted from running around their fast-food jobs all day long.  A lot of those people have desk jobs that don’t require exertion.  They can’t all be too tired to go outside for a few hours to pick infinite free fruits and nuts.

Well, I am going to go to Wal-Mart or maybe first to Sheetz to see if they have the right tools that I need.  I thought maybe it was possible that they sold some wrenches at Sheetz.  I was going to *try* to call Sheetz on the phone and ask them, but they had an insanely horrible web page designed by morons.  It’s totally unusable, at least on my computer.  I wasn’t even able to tell it to search for my zip code so that I could find the store that’s right up the street from me.  It wouldn’t let me click on the text box that you were supposed to write your zip code in. I should just look at the online yellow pages instead.

Anyway, I want to take off the bike pedals and try to wash them.  That is my project for today.  Then I am probably going to wrap them in plastic wrap, just to be safe.

I still need to get rid of some of my contaminated belongings, which are in bags in the new tent.  I was touching them and feeling the dry sinuses feeling, which comes from ephedra.  It was mild, not severe, but I want to get rid of it nonetheless.

Fruits and nuts are the easy part.  I don’t want to be a traditional woman, when they divide the labor between hunting and gathering, and the women do the gathering.  I want to know how to do all of it, even if, eventually, I allow the men to do most of the hunting.  I just want to know how to hunt in addition to foraging and processing vegetables and fruits, in case I’m ever alone in the wilderness.  I want to be self-reliant.

I’ll go ahead and publish this now so I can get on with my project of finding the wrenches and hex keys I need.

Still working on this accursed decon; almost out of time

August 18, 2013

1:05 PM 8/18/2013

I thought of a trail name for myself. Long distance hikers often receive a nickname from others or give one to themselves. My nickname is a horrible one: Decon. After these decons are done and I never want to think about them ever again, I should be tortured with the nickname ‘Decon’ for the rest of my life.

This morning, when ‘they’ woke me up, they suggested that I do a google search for disposable shoe covers, like gloves for shoes. I already have a box of vinyl gloves that I will use for cleaning things, since the drug residues get stuck on my hands and don’t wash off very well, and then my hands contaminate other things afterwards, which is what happened when I tried to wash the bike pedals the first time. I’m going to try to wash them again.

I’m going to actually try to remove them and bring them inside to wash them in hot water. It will be so much better than struggling to wash the bikes outdoors in a creek. However, I need the right tool to take off the pedals. I lokoed at both bikes, and they each need a different tool.

I was looking at YouTube videos of how to build a motorized bike from, and in that video, they showed the guy removing the pedals, which made me feel like I could do it. I have one small toolkit for a bike, and I think it has one of the tools but not the other one. I’m not sure, and I need to go get it and look at it. In the video, they also showed the guy using a drill to make a hole in the handlebars, which I won’t be able to do unless I borrow someone else’s drill. I am theoretically capable of owning and operating a drill, but would need electricity if I got an electric one. I don’t know whether a hand-cranked drill could drill through metal bike handlebars. I’d love it if it could, but I find it hard to imagine that it could. I love low-tech solutions, and I love hand-cranked anythings.

The vast majority of my blog readers are coming to see only two main posts, at the moment: they want to find out how to become a male slave, and they want to find out about the police radar in the guard rails. That is almost all that anyone ever comes to this blog for. When I am less manic, I’m going to have a different writing style and a different set of topics. I will have to reconsider what my blog’s purpose is, who its audience is, and what they come here to see. Right now, it is just a self-centered way of entertaining myself and venting my frustration, but people who know me in real life read it too, to find out what’s going on with me.

I still have just a couple days left to try to finish this decon, to do a better job of it. I bought some shoe covers at a hardware store, but I want to see if Home Depot has more types of shoe covers than just that one. The ones I bought are not waterproof or liquidproof. They have other purposes. I would like to see if any of them are waterproof. Home Depot came up in the google search results, and I called them on the phone and asked them if they had the shoe covers. The guy on the phone was not very enthusiastic and seemed sullen and reluctant and had the accent of a particular ethnic group who shall remain nameless, because I have noticed some recurring problems that seem to happen more often with this ethnic group. This person gave me the impression, ‘Oh no, it’s that ethnic group again,’ when, in reality, there might have been many other types of people who also would have been rude, sullen, unhelpful, and reluctant on the phone, and I wouldn’t have attributed it to their ethnic groups.

I’m going to walk up the hill in a few minutes and go see what kind of bike tools I have in the little kit. Then later today I will try to take off the pedals.

still at the hotel; took the bags to the dumpster

August 17, 2013

1:33 PM 8/17/2013

When I got up this morning, I decided to stay at the hotel another night, tonight. I have not completed my decon yet. Since the decon is going to be imperfect, this moment is not as dramatic as it could be, but, there is a moment when I sort of step out of the dirty universe and into the clean one. That’s when I get out of the dirty clothes, take a shower, put on the clean clothes, and get rid of the contaminated belongings, while wearing gloves or something. I don’t really feel like explaining all the details, but, this decon won’t be absolutely spotlessly perfect, it is just supposed to be a large reduction in contamination levels, which will make future cleanings either much easier, or not necessary anymore. If I had a lot more time and more money, I would make it more perfect.

I wanted to clean my bikes again. That’s why I decided not to finish yet. They were not clean enough, and I could feel something which had spread all over the bikes because I had washed the pedals and then washed my hands off and then touched the handgrips. My hands weren’t washed well enough, so I spread residues from the pedals to the handgrips. I’m not decaffeinated yet, but when I am totally off all caffeine, I can strongly feel even the tiniest amounts of the residues. When I’m on caffeine, the stimulant drugs in the residues don’t make as much of a difference, because I am already exhausted and overstimulated and my body can’t be stimulated much more than it already is. But when I am caffeine-free and I touch a drug residue, it’s like going from a dead stop to 100 miles an hour in a couple of seconds. It is a huge difference. When I am already on caffeine, it’s like going from 80 mph to 100 mph. The residues are nowhere near as horrible as they were years ago, but they are still enough that I find them disturbing and uncomfortable.

I rode my bike home and walked up the mountain. I was sort of planning to get the second bike and take it down again to wash it, but somewhere on the way home I changed my mind and decided that instead of doing that, I would take down all the bags to the dumpster. So I made several trips up and down carrying bags and putting them on my bike. The dumpster is pretty close by, so I didn’t have to walk very far pushing a bike covered in huge bags, but even so, there were lots of hikers and people driving cars, and lots of people saw me. I just waited until most of them were gone, but could not avoid everyone. Anyway, the bags of stuff are all gone now, so I did get something useful done today.

I brought both bikes down, but I was so exhausted and hungry and thirsty that I could not go to wash them right away. I had to sit down at the Lemont Cafe and eat something. After eating, I locked up one bike and left it by a tree in Lemont. It’s in a strange place where I don’t usually leave it, and I’m not really happy about leaving it there, but I won’t leave it there for very long. I will go back for it later today. Then I rode my other bike back here to the hotel.

I’m going to need to get something else to eat, because I had a very light, low-calorie meal at the cafe. It was good – I got the hummus tray, and I like hummus sometimes. It was hummus, cucumber slices, baby carrots, green beans, chunks of bread, and gluten-free crackers. You could choose gluten-free chips by themselves, bread by itself, or both, and I chose both because I was curious to try them. The crackers were very good. They had sesame seeds in them. There was just enough stuff that I didn’t feel like I had to force myself to choke down too many vegetables at once. I’m thinking of the couple of times when I forced myself to eat unusual raw vegetables from the grocery store, vegetables that I normally eat cooked. But I have been doing a lot of heavy work, going up and down the hill carrying heavy bags and pushing a bike, and then I rode my bike from Lemont back to the hotel again, so I will need a lot more calories.

I don’t expect this to be a perfect decon, because I’m keeping the bikes, and they won’t be washed perfectly. I can do things to minimize the spread of residues, but that’s all. I can wash them to reduce some of the contamination, but it won’t be completely gone. But I’m tired of talking about it. I’ve gotten most of it done and I’m glad I decided to carry the bags down to the dumpster. I was thinking that I would just abandon the bags for a long time and leave them and carry them down eventually in the future, but I had enough energy to do it today. I’m staying at the hotel again tonight and will be able to shower again, and I still need to make a second attempt to clean the bikes better than they have been cleaned. I have been working very hard today.

probably finishing my decon today

August 16, 2013

11:59 AM 8/16/2013

I had to come down from the mountain this morning before starting to work. I was at home all day yesterday, just eating my dried and packaged foods (cereal, slim jims, Coke, nuts, Craisins), and when I woke up this morning, I had a feeling of weakness that I recognize from past experiences. I don’t know if it’s caused by a nutrient deficiency, or if it’s from lying down for too long, or if it’s vitamin D deficiency from not getting out in the sun enough, but, when I spend too many days lying in my tent resting, I become so weak that I can barely walk, and that was how I was starting to feel. I can only eat junk food when I’m up there. I have to come down to get any fresh foods.

Yesterday I moved a lot of stuff out of the tent and into the new tent. There is very little left in my old tent. So today will be the day that I shut down the old one, if all goes well. I will get rid of the last of the contaminated stuff and move into the clean tent tonight. I will go take a shower at the YMCA and change into clean clothes. That is if all goes according to plan. There is very little left to do. After this, I could do some things that were less urgent, like I could try again to wash the bikes a little bit better.

I have nuisance parasites right now. I ate a bunch of sushi a couple days ago. There is a particular guy who sells sushi around this town, and I used to know him from when I worked at Weis, because he would call on the phone every evening to get an inventory of what had sold that day. I ate one pack of it one day, and another pack of it a few days later, and now I have parasites. They were disturbing me and making me sick at my stomach when my stomach was empty. It felt like they were moving around last night. They will gradually go away on their own, I know, based on past experiences with them.

I know exactly what I need to do to finish the decon, and it will be relatively easy to do, but I wasn’t able to do it when I got up this morning. I slept badly last night, and tossed and turned all night long, sick at my stomach. When I woke up I knew what needed to be done, but felt so weak and dispirited that I could not bring myself to do it, and I knew it was time to go down the mountain first.

I was having an interesting conversation with ‘them’ last night when I was sick and couldn’t sleep. If I’m lying awake for hours, that’s usually when I’m hearing voices in my head. First, I was scaring myself on purpose, partly because I really was scared last night, and I didn’t feel well, and I couldn’t sleep, and I was bored. But it was also just scary last night. The moon was out, and the sky was clear, and I could see moon shadows between the trees in the woods. I felt like I would soon see a shadow of a large animal moving between the trees. That seemed like the scariest thing I could imagine. I’d be looking out the tent window and something would walk between the trees into the shadows and I wouldn’t be able to see what it was. In reality, I haven’t seen any bears for a long time, and I think some hunters or somebody must have killed one of the bears that used to live in this area. I don’t like killing animals that seem to be scarce. I know they are not really endangered, but locally, you hardly see any of them.

I was imagining that there were dragons in the woods, and the dragons had infrared vision and ultraviolet vision and they could see the heat of your body as you were lying in your tent, so people wouldn’t be able to hide from them just by lying in the tent and staying still, as I was doing. I knew if a cougar were walking through the woods, I could probably avoid it just by lying in the tent perfectly still and not making any noise. Then I imagined that the dragons could also shoot a radio frequency blast at you to knock you down before they actually killed you. Nobody reported any dragons in the area because if you got close enough to see one, you were dead. Then I imagined that the dragons were tunnelling underground, and I was going to write a story about someone who explored these ‘wormholes.’

After that, I was still hearing the voices in my head, but they interpreted the story as referring to the reptilian aliens, who were digging holes underground.

Then I started thinking about technology, but it was high quality technology, it wasn’t these garbage appliances produced at the cheapest possible price by slave labor in China using the cheapest plastic components. This was, instead, technology that could be used to go through outer space, where your lives depend on all of your machines working perfectly all the time, and being fixable if they do break down. This is similar to what they described in the plan to go to Mars. I was thinking that underground tunnels could use air pumps to bring in fresh air, but the pumps would have to be the highest quality machines, because lives were depending on them.

Then I was thinking about the parasitic economic system, which is the reason why we’re not using so much of the technology that’s available, that we could be using, and the reason why our lives aren’t better than they are, when they ought to be much better. The government prints money and then exchanges it for real goods and services without giving anything of value in return, and all of the producers spend all their time and resources producing stuff to give to the government in exchange for these dollars, while all the normal people just get what little bit is left over, and they have to pay a lot for it, because the government has caused the prices of everything to go up for all the normal people who have to earn their dollars. The reason we eat unhealthy food is because the government subsidizes corn and wheat and soy, so they’re really, really cheap, much cheaper than they should be. So, things that we *don’t* need are extremely cheap and plentiful, and things that we do need are scarce and expensive, things of actual value, like appliances and computers and cars. The government can get as many high-quality appliances and machines as it wants, for the military, by just printing money. They don’t necessarily literally ‘print’ money, but they have the authority to create electronic money in the computers by playing little games with the banking system.

I did finally go to sleep, and nothing scary actually happened. Then I woke up and saw that I had very little left to do, but couldn’t do it, so I came down the mountain to eat and to raise my spirits and to report on my situation. I will go back up later and finish the rest of this decon. It’s not going to be absolutely perfect, it’s just supposed to reduce the amount of residues greatly, and to reduce the recurring outbreaks that I have when it rains and my shoes get wet.

Three tasks done; food poisoning or a monster virus or something today

August 14, 2013







6:27 PM 8/13/2013

There will be a delay between the date that this is written and the date that it’s published. I’m on vacation and in the middle of doing a decon. When I go down the mountain, I’m leaving my netbook at home so that I won’t use the internet at all. I can’t afford to waste time. Everything I do has to have a purpose. I’m off work until Wednesday of next week.

I took a picture today of a cicada. It was on my plastic tent cover. I thought it was dead at first, but actually, it was just sitting there. Sometimes they do that when they first come out of their shells. They sit still for a long time drying out, hardening their wings, and getting stronger and ready to fly or move around or do whatever they do. It was really hard to get it off my hand. Every time I tried to nudge it off my hand onto a leaf or branch, it would cling to my hand, because the leaf and twig were too flimsy and it wanted to hold onto something strong. Finally, I nudged it onto a big, thick vine, and it was willing to hold onto that. It’s an army green colored cicada, not one of the ones with red eyes. I think the ones with red eyes are the ones that come out every 17 years or 13 years or whatever it is. This is an all green one, so it might just be a yearly cicada. I’ll have to google it. I’m surprised that it’s coming out this late. This is the middle of August, and it’s about to become autumn.

I felt happy earlier today. I was running an errand on my bike. I was taking some stuff to the post office so that I could mail it to West Virginia. I had some spiral notebooks and a few miscellaneous objects that were sentimental which I did not want to throw away – for example, a pink hairbrush that I’ve had since childhood, like when I was five years old or so. I’m not brushing my hair nowadays. I just wanted to send it home so it could be put into my closet and stored along with other stuff.

I knew that I had plenty of time and did not have to hurry. It was a relatively nice day, although it was cloudy at first. I thought it might even rain, and it did drizzle a little bit, but I still felt happy. I knew I did not have to go to work tomorrow and could take all the time I needed to get done the things I had to get done.

I also had a lighter backpack. I wasn’t carrying my netbook or my work uniforms. I only had my wallet and a light jacket in there, and a couple other things in the zipper pouch, like my flashlight. So it was much easier to ride my bike since I wasn’t so heavy. And I just pumped up the tires yesterday, so there wasn’t so much friction, and the bike went more easily.

I went to the UPS Store where I get my mail, and I took a different route than usual. I went down a random side street and saw something that I had never seen before – a huge tree right in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking the way. My first thought was that I couldn’t ride my bike around it very easily, and my second thought was, ‘That’s not handicap accessible.’ It does have a small path around it, but I’d be scared to ride that little tilted path on a wheelchair.

I enjoyed going down side roads and alleys that I didn’t normally go down. And I felt different knowing that I wasn’t going to go someplace and use the wifi. I didn’t have my netbook – there was no chance at all that I would use the internet. I feel like using the internet is a bad habit, or a duty. I write a lot, but I don’t necessarily write because I’m happy. Writing usually means that I’m lonely or that I’m on drugs or that something is bothering me or I’m uncomfortable somehow. I do it as a way of coping. Writing could be different – it doesn’t have to be so negative – but right now I don’t have any positively oriented writing projects.

When I mailed my package, I remembered the incident in the past that happened when I first moved to State College in 1997. My brother had just moved out, but his mail was still coming to this address. I was temporarily staying in his former apartment. He wanted me to collect his mail and then forward it to him. I was inexperienced and had not done such things before – I had only mailed handwritten letters, since I grew up during the time period when people wrote letters by hand and mailed them through the snail mail, before the internet. I didn’t know that the post office was not very gentle or careful with the mail. So I put all his letters into a manila envelope and then just mailed it like that. I don’t remember if I even taped it shut or not. I think I just had one of those little metal things where you poke the little metal legs through a hole and then spread them apart to hold it shut.

Maybe I taped it, maybe I only taped it a little bit, but whatever I did, it wasn’t enough. The manila envelope ripped open in the mail, and all of his letters fell out and got recirculated through the mail. They had all been already mailed, so the stamps were all canceled and everything, and they had nowhere to go. Most of them got sent back to me at John’s old apartment address with some kind of message on them from the post office saying ‘return to sender’ or something, or I don’t know what, or ‘insufficient postage,’ or something. I got some of them back, but maybe not all of them.

John was upset and he told me that you have to be careful when you mail something – you have to super-duper duct tape it shut and cover every hole and every edge and make it bombproof, because they just toss it around and wad it up and everything when it gets mailed, unless you pay for the more expensive mailing options. I thought of that today when I mailed this box of stuff. The guy taped it shut, but I wondered, was it taped enough? Maybe I should have told him to tape every single edge completely so that there wasn’t even the tiniest hole. If the box got crushed, stuff could possibly fall out through the edges. I didn’t go back and tell him to do it, but I slightly worried about it a little bit, but I just let it go.

Then I ate at the Indian restaurant again, but there are two Indian restaurants, and I think one of them might be toxic, and the other one is okay. I’ve been wondering why I’ve been having strange moods and symptoms, and I suspected I was getting lead poisoning or some other poisoning from eating at the one particular restaurant. I didn’t have the problem when I ate at the other restaurant in the past, or at least I hadn’t ever been aware of it. It only started when I started going to a different restaurant recently. I ate at the ‘good’ restaurant today, not the toxic one.

I didn’t have my netbook, so I didn’t sit around for hours in town writing and using the internet. I started to go home, but then ‘they’ suggested that I might want to see a movie tonight. I called my parents while waiting for the bus, and I told them I had mailed them a package and that they could just put it up in my closet, and talked with Mom for a couple minutes to see how she was doing, since she had broken her back a few weeks ago when she fell out of the hayloft, and was now in a wheelchair. She’s lucky to be alive and not paralyzed.

I wish that I could use the Weston Price diet to heal her bones, but I haven’t tested the diet enough to find out how well it really works, and a lot of the stuff that I’ve read is inaccurate or misleading or it leaves out important information, so I have to test everything myself and I have to be careful and I have to be skeptical yet hopeful. I do hope that it works as well as they claim it does, but I suspect it might work *kind of* well, and maybe not as well as they say, and some parts of it are dangerous, based on my observations and experiences.

I rode the bus and tried to go to the movie theater, but all the movies that I might possibly want to see were going to start several hours later, and nothing was soon enough to sit around waiting for. I didn’t have my netbook or even a library book to read, so I wasn’t going to sit around doing nothing for hours waiting for a movie. So I left and went to Wal-Mart and bought some food.

I got some asparagus spears, and I ate the tips of them raw. I didn’t eat the lower part of the stalks, and probably won’t be able to – there are just too many of them, and it’s hard to choke down a whole lot of raw vegetables. I also had a small bottle of whole milk (pasteurized, from Wal-Mart), and Weston Price is right: drinking whole milk (or some form of it) with vegetables makes them much more tolerable. He said that people used to put butter on cooked vegetables to make them enjoyable, and people liked eating them that way, until the lowfat fad came along and they told people that vegetables should be eaten bare without any fat so that they’re healthiest. But WP says that the fat helps you absorb the vitamins in the vegetables better than you would otherwise. So they would eat creamed spinach, for instance, or cooked asparagus with butter on it. I was eating raw asparagus tips with a bottle of milk, and it helped.

Even so, I felt that it was going to be almost impossible for me to finish eating this whole package of asparagus at once, even though I was just biting off the upper half of the stalks and just setting aside the thicker lower part of the stalks. I did manage to force myself to eat them all. It’s 10 ounces – the brand name is ‘Marketside,’ and it says they’re ready to eat and you can microwave them in the bag.

Oh yes, my dried meat. It actually worked very well at first. But I abandoned the tent for a couple days when it was raining and I was scared of falling trees. I left the tent closed up and covered with the tarp. The meat was too humid, and when I got home, it was moldy. So far, up until then, it had not gotten moldy. I wasn’t expecting this first attempt to succeed. It would have worked if I had had a place to keep it that could be left open to the air at all times, something with a closed roof to keep the rain out, but maybe bug net around all the sides to let the air flow through.

I’m just going to throw the meat outside on the ground, and I expect that the skunk, or the little mysterious forest creatures, will eat it. They’ve been eating lots of stuff that I’ve put out which I thought was inedible. They ripped open my trash bags again, and do you know what they took out? They got that SANDWICH that I was talking about, the one that had been squashed down inside my backpack and then dumped into a plastic bag which sat in my tent all these months, SINCE JANUARY, which was putting out a horrible smell into the tent. (And yes, I *did* get rid of the horrible smell by getting rid of that sandwich.) The critter ripped open the foil and ate the eight-month-old (or older?) sandwich and scattered bits of foil all over the ground. I have a feeling that moldy dried meat will be just another ordinary meal to them. I guess it could have been crows, too, but I know that I actually saw a skunk ripping open the bags that one night long ago, so I’ve suspected the skunk.

The porcupine probably has too much dignity to do such a thing. I see the porcupine once in a while and I’m fond of it, but I don’t think that they go around ripping trash bags and eating ancient rotten food. (No photos of the porcupine – I always see it in the middle of the night, when it’s walking around making lots of noise and scratching its little claws on the tree bark when it’s climbing trees, and I’ll shine a flashlight on it and get a couple glimpses before it moves away.)

I was just thinking that it’s amazing what the wildlife can do. I wouldn’t have thought a porcupine could climb a tree, but they do. And just today, I saw one of those wasps that you might see on television, on National Geographic or something. It was a wasp that has a long, curving thing sticking out the back of its abdomen, which it uses to lay eggs inside of other insects, like caterpillars, which will grow parasitically inside the caterpillar. I didn’t know we had those wasps here in Pennsylvania, but I definitely saw one!

I am tired from carrying my groceries up the hill. It’s hard to carry a bottle of water and a pack of little Coke bottles. I’m drinking Coke to help motivate me to do my decon. I don’t want to drink Coke forever, and I don’t approve of drinking it at all, but my time is very limited and I have to cheat to force myself to do this work as fast as possible. I really don’t want to have to do that. So anyway, right now I’m just resting a bit, after having gone up the hill with groceries. My arms are tired. I was resting and reading a book and wondering what I might be motivated to do next. I was going through a couple tasks in my mind and imagining how I might do them. Then I decided to write this blog. But I won’t post it yet. I will wait until I’m done.

I don’t want to use the internet until the decon is done. I don’t want to waste any time. I don’t want to spend hours on the internet when I’m supposed to be doing tasks for the decon. My time is very limited. It *seems* like I have lots and lots of time ahead, since today is Tuesday, but I know that’s not true. I have barely any time at all before I have to go back to work. Everything I do is slow and inefficient, mostly because I’m riding a bicycle around and I get very tired from riding the bike. It takes a long time to travel around town to do simple errands. Even if I take the bus, I have to sit and wait for the bus, and then, I have to walk everywhere I’m going when I get to my destination. So I might have just one small errand to run, in a day, and that will be all that I can get done, because just going down and up the hill exhausts me and I can’t do any more. I come back to my tent and I lie down and rest and can’t do any more work.

I am slowly making progress, slowly. I hope to reach a breakthrough after which everything becomes easier and progress becomes faster. That is what this decon is intended to be. After this decon, I should be allowed to do things that I have not been allowed to do yet while contaminated. I’ll see. It all depends on whether I really get done or not. It’s summer, and the days are long, and I can get more done in daylight. In the winter, the days are short, and I can’t get much work done. I failed to finish my decon last winter.

Oh, but that made this decon much easier. I already had purchased all the replacement supplies, and just had them sitting in my storage tent. I already have almost everything – in fact, I do have everything, really – if I don’t have something, it’s something unimportant that I can live without. I don’t have to buy anything this time, since it’s already been bought. So this is a very cheap decon. That’s good, because I don’t have any money, since I’ve still been going to the hotel occasionally.

I guess that’s enough for now. I’ll write more later, and publish it later this week, after the decon is done, if I succeed. If I don’t succeed, I’ll just publish it anyway, of course, when I go back to work and normal life.

Oh yeah, I had another photograph. I sent home a spiral notebook in that package in the mail, and I was looking through it first. On a couple of pages, I was trying to devise a new numeral to express the numbers ‘ten’ and ‘eleven’ in dozenal counting, where the number twelve is expressed as ’10.’ You have 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,X,Y,10, if you see what I mean. I was making new numerals and trying to find ways to draw them so that they looked similar to the existing Arabic numerals, with the same types of curves and lines and angles and loops. They had to be easy to draw in just a couple strokes. I imagined that they had to lend themselves to being digitized and pixellated, like the numbers on a calculator, with low resolution. There are some writing systems who have so many loops and lumps and little thingies on them that it would be very hard to transform them into low-resolution calculator numbers.

_ _
| | | _|
|_| | |_

Wow, that’s hard. I’m not going to continue writing out all of the numerals in ASCII. There are people who make entire drawings that way.  (It’s not even lined up properly in WordPress.  I wrote the numbers ‘0, 1, 2.’)

Okay, so I’ll attach the photos later on when I get online, if I remember.

1:07 PM 8/14/2013

I’m very sick today, but I still got something done. When I woke up, I stayed in bed. Reason: failure to attain operating temperature. It’s not just because it was cold last night. It was in the fifties, I think, but I’ve been warm on many nights when it was in the fifties. I was just sick, and I was trying to raise my body temperature up to a fever, but could not, no matter how hard I tried. Strangely, I was perfectly warm during the nighttime, and I remember lying with the sleeping bags unzipped and sprawled out and the tent roof open.

But when I woke up in the morning, I was horribly cold. I put on my second sleeping bag, but still felt cold. I put on my shirt and pants and a sweatshirt, but still felt cold. I put on my jacket… I closed the roof of the tent… I put on a second sweatshirt over top of my jacket and sweatshirt and t-shirt that I already had on, and laid there wrapped in a double sleeping bag with the whole tent mostly closed except for a small opening in the door window… and finally I started to feel warm enough. That’s how I knew that I was ill today.

Then I had diarrhea. I am using lots of caffeine pills and Coke, which certainly does not help diarrhea! But the diarrhea was worse than just the normal bowel irritation caused by caffeine.

I had a project planned for today. I was going to go down to the creek at Slab Cabin Park and wash the bikes off in the place where I used to bathe in the creek.

Even though I was very sick, I finally felt warm enough, and I got up and went down the mountain. I stayed wrapped in many layers of clothing, and was very glad that I did.

I had ‘permission’ to wash the bikes in the creek with dish soap. I wanted to wash off the pedals in particular, because they have drug residues from my shoes on them. They have to be washed thoroughly with plenty of water. I’ve washed the handlegrips from the other bike before. I wasn’t able to pull them off the first time I tried to, but then later on, they were loose enough that I was able to pull them off, and I suspect that the reason they were loose enough was because the people at the Bike Shop pulled them off when they were fixing something on my bike. I couldn’t budge them at all when it was new. I didn’t mind, and was glad to finally be able to remove the handlegrips and wash them in the sink with lots of hot water and soap and a scratchy sponge (I did this a couple months ago), and finally stopped having so many manic incidents due to the drug residues on the handlegrips. But on my second new bike, I can’t take the grips off – they’re very firmly stuck. So I just wanted to wash everything I could wash in the stream.

There were reasons why I wanted to do it in the stream. There is no convenient place where I can wash them with hot water from a sink, unless I ask a favor from the neighbors, and I want to avoid asking anyone for anything.

I rationalized that the people who polluted the waterways the most were not individual people doing random things like washing a bike with detergent, but rather huge corporate farmers spraying their entire fields with pesticides, herbicides, and fertilizers, and the power company, which sprays their entire power line area with herbicides so that they can get access to the power line when it goes through the woods, and the government who sprays all along the highways with herbicide. Those are the people who are really polluting the waterways the most, and not one individual person washing a bike in the stream with dish soap. It would not be the end of the world. I wasn’t happy about doing it, but I was ‘permitted’ to compromise, and when I say ‘permitted,’ it means that I have to ‘talk to the voices in my head’ about every plan that I have.

I washed my one bike, the newer one, with a sponge, dish soap, and creek water. I went home on the bike with ziploc bags on the pedals so my shoes wouldn’t touch them (I’m going to use clean new shoes after the decon). I was so tired and so sick by the time I got to the top of the hill that I felt like I was going to puke, and I dragged my sick, exhausted, barely alive body up the last bit of the hill to my tent, chanting, ‘Not gonna do this again. Gonna die now.’ I’m not going to run back down this very instant to wash off the other bike. I’m going to rest for a while.

On the way up, I looked at another stream, just a small one, and wondered if I might be able to go down a little path into the woods on Mt. Nittany Road and use that little tiny stream instead of going all the way to the big creek at Slab Cabin Park. I’m going to look at it and see if it’s possible. I would need a place where I could get the bike down into the little creek and I’d need to be out of sight of anybody driving by with a car. If I can do that, I won’t have to go all the way down the mountain, I’ll only have to go just a short distance and won’t be so deathly sick and exhausted.

When I got back to my tent, I ate a mango that I bought at Wal-Mart yesterday. This was a random spontaneous purchase. I had forgotten how much I love mangoes. The mango was perfectly ripe and soft, and there was so much juice, I practically bathed in mango juice, and had to wipe it all off afterwards. Mangoes are terrible if they’re not ripe, and I think I’ve attempted to eat an unripe mango once before, but this one was absolutely perfect. I’ve also tried to eat an unripe avocado, too, and they are totally inedible when unripe.

I felt like this mango was exactly what I needed, and it made me feel better. I’m going to rest for a while now and if I feel any better, I will try again to go wash off the second bike. I don’t feel like I’m about to drop dead anymore, but I do need to lie down and take a nap for a while.

I thought to myself that if I was able to get both of these bikes washed today, then I might let myself take the netbook down and get on the internet, because I had done enough. If I have made real progress on this decon, it will be safe to get on the net and waste a little bit of time, but tomorrow, I must go back to work on the decon again.

4:31 PM 8/14/2013

Whatever this is, it has totally knocked me out. It’s afternoon, and I still feel sick. When I woke up, I felt like I had low blood pressure. When I experience it, I describe it as the ‘I’m gonna die’ feeling. I literally feel like I’m about to die, when it happens. I used to have a blood pressure cuff in the past, and had low blood pressure several times for various reasons. I recognize the feeling from those couple of times when I felt really weird, took my blood pressure, saw that it was unusually low, and simultaneously had an ‘I’m gonna die’ feeling that felt like this.

How did I get low blood pressure? I might have gotten food poisoning from the asparagus. Maybe it had e.coli on it or something. Bacterial infections can cause low blood pressure. I also might have gotten low blood pressure from touching the St. John’s Wort on the bicycle pedals while washing it. I slept more heavily than usual after washing that bike, which indicates that I was contaminated with lots of sjw. I slept in a way that I recognize from when I used to use it.

And maybe, asparagus is poisonous when raw. I haven’t ever eaten large amounts of raw asparagus before. Some plant poisons are destroyed by cooking, and many of our so-called ‘edible’ plants have poisons or drugs in them. I know from experience that artichoke hearts are poisonous – one time I bought a box of frozen artichoke hearts and cooked them up and ate the whole box because they were so good, but that night, I nearly died from sleep apnea because the poisons in the artichokes made me stop breathing. I researched it later and found out that yes, they are poisonous. If I recall correctly, they contain a lot of sulfur, and Feingold Diet kids have trouble processing sulfur, which can cause apnea.

No one tells you these things. You assume that if it’s on the grocery store shelf, it’s safe to eat. But they sell cassava in the produce department, if I recall correctly, and cassava has cyanide in it (or something like that) which has to be removed by a special type of processing, and yet, there’s no warning label on the cassava, and no instructions about how to prepare it properly – what if some ignorant, naive person decided to just take it home and try it, out of curiosity? They sell starfruits, and starfruits are poisonous enough to kill people who have kidney problems, but there’s no warning label on them either.

I know that I was already very sick this morning before I even washed the bike, and my body temperature felt too low. Some of the symptoms began before I touched the sjw.

I might have a monster virus that came from all the ‘foreign people’ (out-of-towners) visiting State College for graduation. I was told that this last weekend was graduation weekend. Every time a huge mass of people migrates in and out of State College, a vomit virus goes around. It’s extremely consistent and reliable, like clockwork. It happens *every single time* there is a large gathering or migration in this town, every time the students come to school or go home from school, every time there’s a football game, whether it’s an at-home or away game, it doesn’t matter – if large numbers of people are traveling someplace all at once, they will come into this town with foreign viruses that infect us all. During football season, sometimes a vomit virus goes through town *every single weekend*. I hate football.

And if we call off sick during a football game, we get accused of calling off sick for fun because we wanted to go to the game! But the viruses are real, and they happen because large numbers of people are traveling all at once. The same thing happens on the holidays – every Christmas and every Thanksgiving, huge numbers of people get the norovirus because of all the travelers.

If THIS is the virus that’s going to be going around this year, this particular version of the virus is extremely nasty. This virus will probably go around again and again every single week throughout the whole football season. It’s really bad. It will cause people to pass out and faint, if it really does cause low blood pressure. So people will be passing out and vomiting over and over again every single week.

It also might cause appendicitis. I think I’ve had appendicitis several times before, but I don’t eat foods that cause constipation (such as iron supplements, tea, rice, or cheddar cheese), so I hardly ever get constipated, and I think that’s why my appendicitis never became dangerous. I’m not sure, it’s just a theory.

I’m still not quite sure what I have, but I *really*, *really* don’t want to be sick all week during the vacation when I’m supposed to be doing my decon. I would have gotten both bikes done today if I hadn’t gotten sick. I might still have a chance to clean the second bike, but I don’t know if I can muster up the energy or not.

I’ll shut this off now and see whether I can muster up the will to go try again to clean the second bike. I’ve had some food and some more Coke and I might be feeling a little bit better.

6:55 PM 8/14/2013

Hungry children are having a tantrum because they wanted ice cream. I’m sitting by the library. This kid is screaming his lungs out and saying he wanted ice cream and isn’t getting into the car. I’m not sure if it’s all about having wanted ice cream, or other stuff in general.

I hate this culture. Kids don’t need to scream. Kids should get the things they need and want, and when they do, they don’t have tantrums. They also shouldn’t eat artificial colors and flavors and other things that cause them to become hyperactive and have tantrums.

I’m at the library, sitting outside so that I can mostly avoid meeting anybody I know. I did get the second bike washed. I feel like they weren’t washed well enough and I’d like to wash them again, with new sponges. But they were at least slightly washed.

I think I had food poisoning and I think I know what caused it. When I bought the asparagus at Wal-Mart, I walked around for a while dawdling and reading magazines and stuff, and then I went home on my bike and walked up the hill. I might have kept that bag of asparagus out at room temperature too long. It was less than four hours, but it might have been long enough to cause some kind of food poisoning. The symptoms I’m having sort of resemble what happened when I tasted a little bit of salsa that had been left overnight at room temperature – I got these pains in my wrists that are a lot like carpal tunnel syndrome. I have those pains again. I also had a bizarre symptom where, when I was about to eat the mango this morning, I opened my mouth wide and tried to press my teeth into the skin to bite through it, but my jaw muscles locked up, like a charlie horse, and I had to just sit there for a couple minutes letting them relax before I could bite again.

I feel somewhat better now though.

I did get a lot of sjw on my hands when I was washing the pedals of the bikes. I really, really need to wash those pedals again with fresh sponges. Once isn’t enough. And this proves that I do definitely have severe soil contamination and that this soil decon is absolutely necessary. I’m just afraid that the footprints are down on the main path badly enough that it will undermine my decon. I’ll move my camp site, but might still get new footprints tracked in from the main path. There is only so much I can do, and I would have to totally relocate, but can’t do that right now. I am doing only an intermediate soil decon, and it will not be a perfect decon. It will only be a reduction, and I’m hoping it will be a major reduction.

I’ll go ahead and post this now with the photos.

I haven’t reread what I wrote yet, but the ‘three tasks’ that I’m referring to were: I donated two books to the library; I mailed off a package to WV; and I washed the bikes.

an apology

August 8, 2013

Oddly enough, just after posting that, I felt dizzy, like I was getting hit with a radio frequency attack, and then a voice said ‘apology.’  I thanked them for apologizing.  It was a purely symbolic apology, since they can’t stop the murderers from doing what they’re doing, but it’s appreciated that somebody attempts to apologize anyway.  You can’t trust them or believe anything they say or do, I realize that, and I get the ‘good cop, bad cop’ treatment, where they try to trick you into trusting one person, while another person attacks you.  So really, I can’t even believe their apology, since they could be playing the ‘good cop.’  All of it is insane and serves no purpose.  

However, I often assume that there is more than one attacker, and not all of the attackers behave the same way or have the same goals.  It could be possible that the apology really did come from a totally different attacker, someone who is not as abusive or insane as the ritual torturers.  It could be possible that some of the attackers are not as bad as the other attackers, for real.  That is what I usually choose to assume, since I know nothing about any of my attackers at all and can only speculate about them. 

Bad mood; angry at the soul murderers about the stupidity of their pointless and ineffective ritual torture

August 8, 2013

9:10 PM 8/8/2013

I am having a recurring problem with the attackers. Every time I take a shower, when I go to work afterwards, the puppeteers *always*, without fail, *always* put some cigarette smoker outdoors at the exact moment when I am about to go in to work, and they always force that person, whoever they are, to come over and stand next to me and start talking while smoking near me, even if it’s unusual for me and that person to get into a conversation. The smoke always gets into my hair immediately after I took a shower and used shampoo to get smoke and other drug residues out of my hair. It happened today because I had just slept at the hotel and used shampoo when I took a shower.

This is exactly the kind of thing that happens to other harassment victims. I know it is the puppeteers because it doesn’t ever happen on all the days when I haven’t taken a shower. I go for many, many days without washing my hair, and nobody ever meets me and stands outside and randomly decides to talk to me on my way in to work while they are smoking a cigarette. There is always someone there at the exact same time that I am about to go in the door, and that person always starts chatting with me about nothing in particular just for the heck of it, while smoking a cigarette, with the smoke drifting towards me.

I usually try to ignore this type of thing, but ‘they’ are pointing it out to me and forcing me to get angry about it.

The amount of smoke is relatively trivial compared to the amount that I had in the past, not enough to cause severe mania. The purpose is harassment. It is intended to ‘ruin my perfection’ after I have gotten clean, and it has no other purpose. They do that with many other things besides my hair – they have broken many objects that I bought in the past right after I bought them, when they were brand new and I was enjoying their perfection. Right after I bought my first bicycle, many years ago, they forced a drunken neighbor to trip over the bike wheel in the middle of the night and bend it so badly that I had to go get the wheel fixed, and it shoved the bike seat against the wooden pillar that I had it tied to, so that it ripped a chunk out of the seat. When I first got my brand new recliner, they forced my then-boyfriend to accidentally break the wooden arm inside of it right after I bought it, and I don’t think it was his fault – it was part of a pattern. He was trying to move it and the arm snapped.

They would always do some kind of attack on my computer every time I had freshly formatted the hard drive and reinstalled Windows back when I still thought that I just had ordinary computer viruses and random trojans, when I didn’t know that I was being persistently and deliberately targeted for nonstop harassment forever. I still thought that the hacking was a random accident, just some random trojan I picked up, so that I would be able to remove it by cleaning off the hard drive. When I would start the computer again, they would start giving me fake bizarre error messages and strange problems even when I had not yet connected the computer to the internet. I know from experience that they have a long history of forcing puppets to do things to me right after something is brand new or fixed or ‘perfect’ in any way.

They have also forced drug users to hug me or touch me right after I took a shower, thereby putting their psychiatric drugs onto my skin, which *does* affect my mood strongly enough that I can detect it. And again, these incidents are out of the ordinary and unusual, not something that happens every day. Every victim asks why, but there is no answer. The soul murderers do this to the victims because they themselves are mentally ill, not the victims. The victims are the sane ones. The murderers are the crazy ones.

There is no answer to the question ‘why’ with regard to a crazy person, because they are unable to form a conscious plan for something useful that they are trying to achieve. There is no useful purpose achieved, and if they believe that they are achieving a useful purpose by doing these things, that is part of their insane ritual, like a religious ritual, something which does not actually achieve any beneficial result, but which they believe they have to keep doing anyway. It does not in reality achieve anything useful. There is no rationale behind it, there is no answer to the question ‘why,’ there is no reason.

The ‘reason’ for it is: a long history of insane people passing down a tradition to other people who are equally stupid and insane and unable to question the effectiveness of some behavior. They just keep doing the ritual. They are incapable of saying, ‘What am I trying to accomplish, and what is the best way to accomplish that goal?’ Instead they just say, ‘We’re supposed to torture this person according to this particular set of rules and procedures. Every time Event X happens, you’re supposed to respond by torturing the victim in this particular way. Don’t ask why. Every time the victim feels this particular emotion, you’re supposed to trigger this other emotion. Every time the victim feels happy or pleased with something or satisfied with something or accomplished or fulfilled or has a sense of perfection, you’re supposed to push a button that will make something go wrong so that the victim feels, instead, anger, frustration, helplessness, violation, etc.’

This is ritual torture. There is no reason why. Rituals are not effective and they do not value ‘effectiveness’ as such. Achieving a desired result is something that they cannot conceive of.

I am aware that I am living in a world of untouchables. I am not expecting to be perfectly clean all the time. The purpose of the decon is to remove the largest amount of concentrated residues on my belongings and on the soil around my tent, and after that, I am aware that I will still be exposed to other people. The purpose is to reduce my craziness enough that I will never again do anything as terrible as the things I did in the past. My manic moods will be nowhere near as severe or prolonged.

I am getting a vacation next week, but it scared me when I looked at the schedule. My name was just completely gone. Usually when I get a vacation, my name is still on the schedule, but it says ‘off’ for all my hours. This time my name wasn’t even there, as though I had been fired.

Something in this store seems to be making everyone irritable. I am irritable now too, at the end of my shift. Several other people were irritable or in bad moods today. Maybe it’s the paint downstairs. They painted the break room. Maybe the fumes are coming up here. Some of them had other reasons for being irritable, though – one guy didn’t get a lunch break and didn’t get a chance to go to the bathroom either.

I’d really like to set up some kind of a tent close to McD in a hidden place. That way I wouldn’t have to drive all the way home, and maybe I could sleep someplace where I was less scared of the rain and trees falling. I have never done that yet because of the decon and my reluctance to buy anything that I didn’t absolutely have to have immediately, before a decon.

I’m just thinking about where I might possibly go tonight. I won’t go to the hotel over and over again and waste all my money.

I can’t wait till next week. I just want to direct all of my energy and time into working on the decon so I can get it done before winter.

I can’t win the McDonald’s Monopoly game, but if I did win by accident, I’d find a way to make it work, secretly

August 8, 2013

11:38 AM 8/8/2013

I slept in the hotel last night because I was scared of the tree. It was raining. I’m about to move to a different site which is farther from any dead trees. The one dead tree is still fresh and not rotten, and it feels very solid, but I’m still scared of it nevertheless.

I was listening to ‘them’ when I woke up. I have wanted someone to help me describe my beliefs, the essence of them, the basic principles and assumptions behind my beliefs about diet and nutrition. ‘They’ were saying some interesting things.

I want to be able to eat as much as my body desires of something, without worrying about optimizing this or that amount according to some number. I want to obey my body’s instincts about food, but at the same time, I want to direct those instincts towards foods that I would have naturally been eating, not modern junk foods. I want to know the real truth about saturated fat, because there are grains of truth on both sides of the debate, but both sides are also wrong or lying about some things.

6:30 PM 8/8/2013

I’m on lunch break. I didn’t get to finish what I was writing about earlier, but I’ll do it later.

I accidentally dropped a Big Mac box on the floor. The boxes have Monopoly pieces on them, and the Big Mac is the one that has the million dollar prize. I can’t win it because I’m a McD employee, and (omg I just burned my tongue – I sipped this latte without letting it cool off first – I had a bunch of food in my mouth at the same time and just had to distribute the scalding hot latte onto the food to protect my tongue – I just went and got some ice to put in the cup) – Anyway, I can’t win it because I work at McD. And, I picked it up off the floor without buying it, because I accidentally dropped it.

But even so, I ripped off the Monopoly piece just to see if it won anything. McD employees aren’t allowed to win, but I’ll be damned if I wouldn’t find a way to do it, if it just happened to have the million dollar piece. I would find somebody I trusted, and tell them what happened, and make a deal to get some of the money from them if they claimed it. We would share the million dollars and it would be a secret that I gave it to them. It couldn’t be a relative, but I know some people who are trustworthy and non-greedy. They would happily agree to share a million dollar Monopoly prize with me. I know people who wouldn’t betray me in a deal like that.

But if that happened, would I let anyone else in on the secret deal? Would I tell anyone? If I didn’t tell anyone, I’d get to keep a bigger share for myself. The shares would get smaller and smaller depending on how many people I shared it with. I’d have to share my portion, and let the other guy keep his portion, as agreed – the person who agreed to cash it in, as a non-McD employee.

It might depend on how the payments were made. McD won’t pay the winner a million dollars all at once, but instead will give them payments over time, I assume, like lotteries do. I don’t know for certain, though, and I don’t have time to go read the ‘fine print’ on the website.

Okay, somebody says they will give you $50,000 per year. This is interesting and I’ll have to read it later.

I have to remember to use the right WordPress page to post this, otherwise that link won’t work.

I hadn’t even thought about trying to win any of the collector pieces, where you have to get particular properties, like Boardwalk. This other page says which pieces are rare. I never knew how it worked. Some are rare, and many are common. If you get a rare one, then you can easily get the common ones and win.

I’ll just post this now. My break is over.

Stationary front coming to Pennsylvania over my vacation – NOT FUNNY.

August 8, 2013

Oh well, the weather is just going to go fuck itself. I will do what I have to do, the end.

Petrified with anxiety; thinking about war strategies; can’t wait till my vacation so I can do this decon

August 7, 2013

11:29 AM 8/7/2013

Today, I am nearly frozen with incapacitating anxiety. This is drug-induced, but I don’t have time to do all the things I need to do to fix it. I need to go take a shower and put on clean clothes.

I’m eating at the Hair Food Restaurant and taking a risk by ordering a sandwich. I actually wondered if the hair was put in my food deliberately. I’ll just kind of… peek to make sure there’s nothing in there.

I could not get the iPod to charge. I think it needs a new battery. Apparently iPod batteries die forever when they’re just left alone to sit and do nothing for a year or two.

Anyway, I had several ideas for things I could do before going to work today, but just had this terror that ‘there wasn’t enough time,’ even though there really was a lot of time to do at least one of the small tasks. I ended up just putting the two books that I’d like to donate to the library into my backpack, and I hope I can get to town and donate them so I won’t have to carry them around all day and carry them home from work with me tonight.

I’m reading Jared Diamond talking about primitive (or ‘traditional’) societies and their wars, compared to modern warfare. He says that usually when a state takes over a traditional society and subjugates it, they end the ongoing warfare, and sometimes the people are grateful that the wars have ended. I *might possibly* have been able to agree with some of that…. except that now, in this modern world, someone has completely and permanently destroyed my soul in all the hours of my life with an electronic mind control system, so that I can’t even think a thought or enjoy a moment of life without being zapped, and yet I have done nothing to harm anyone and there is no reason why I should be spied on and murdered. So, every hour of my life is lived in a covert war, and I never even get as much peace and quiet as a primitive person would have had in the midst of an ongoing tribal war.

If I had been able to get the pemmican before my decon, I would have had a supply of food up there so I wouldn’t have to run down the mountain to eat before doing any work up there. That’s similar to something else JD said in his book. He said that with the modern military, they can do nothing but fight all day long, because someone else is giving them their food and supplies. But in a primitive tribe, the ‘soldiers’ are ordinary people who still ‘have jobs.’ They have to go back to work farming, hunting, and gathering, and nobody pays them to fight in their war. So there are limits to how much fighting they can do. And they lose whenever a modern military takes over.

I’m just thinking about what needs to be done to get rid of the government in Washington, DC, which will be even harder now that they’re putting up all these surveillance mind-control blimps and stuff. The DC government is one of the greatest evils on earth, but we don’t get to see how evil it is because all of the killings and genocides are done elsewhere on earth, with our money that they have taken from us. The DC government is an evil tribe, separate from us – not one of us, not part of us – that took over, against our will. We did not consent to put them there. They tricked us and betrayed us. Many people are still fooled, but a lot of people are not. Many people realize that the DC tribe is a ‘foreign entity’ that is not ‘us’ and is not working for our good. It does not serve us. But how do we get rid of the DC tribe when they have mind control weapons, nuclear bombs, chemical weapons, germs, infinite guns with infinite ammo, airplanes, helicopters, and so on? They also have access to all the brainwashing equipment: televisions, radios, and all the other media monopolies. So, they’re able to keep more people fooled and on their side, happily serving them and enabling them to murder and enslave more innocent people around the globe and here in the USA.

It’s hard to imagine a strategy for ending the rule of the DC government invading tribe.

I was reading the news about a recent terror threat alert, and they said something about ‘surgically implanted devices.’ Really? I’ve been talking about surgically implanted devices a lot lately, but not in the sense of using them as terror weapons. The voices in my head have been acting up more lately, since I’m doing a decon. Last night someone said, ‘If it rains, I will fucking kill you.’ I don’t think they were referring to me, I think they were referring to the person who was making it rain.

Another thing that the invading colonizers do when they suppress tribal warfare is, they take away all of their war shields – that was described in an incident in the book. They went in to the tribe, bought a pig, shot the pig with a gun to demonstrate how guns worked, shot anyone who tried to attack them, and took down all the shielding and fortifications in the towns that were at war with each other, so that they would have no defense if they started fighting again, and the fighting stopped.

Yippee, but that feels too close to home, as in, what’s been done to me personally. I have no defense now. They see right into my brain, and it would be suicidal for me to ever attack the mind-controllers, if I could even find out who they were and where they were located. (I don’t assume ‘it’s the government,’ because there are many different governments and powerful individuals and groups potentially capable of doing the things that I’m experiencing.)

I don’t normally blog about my thoughts of anarchy, because I don’t want to scare people and/or get myself arrested for treason. However, anytime I think about the future of humanity, I think about the parasitic governments that have suppressed and subjugated every living thing everywhere, and I wonder how anyone will ever live a free life again, ever, till the end of eternity, unless somebody does something to protect our brains against mind control.

Obviously, I’m not in a good mood today.

I have to go to work in a few hours. I still don’t know if I’ll get to the library to donate my books. That’s one task of the decon – get rid of those books. They’re good books and I still want them, but I try to keep as little as possible in a decon.

I’ve been bringing down bags of trash, one or two bags at a time, and putting them in my neighbor’s dumpster a little way down the road. Somebody suggested that I could put my trash there, and I actually asked the person and he said yes. So I don’t have to take it all the way to Sheetz now.

I just want to know what will happen to humanity in the future. And, how do members of government themselves avoid the mind control system? Doesn’t it make *them* miserable too? Apparently, it can be aimed at particular individuals and doesn’t just cover everything everywhere. I don’t know the methods that are being used against me, and that project is postponed. In the future I want to detect the attacks and find out where they’re coming from and deduce as much as I can about the sources. For that, I need expensive equipment. Or, I need to travel around and make observations of my experiences, noticing when it gets better or worse.

Again, I assume that not every member of the government even knows that mind control exists. They can’t *all* be keeping the secret. Lots of them don’t know, and they, like most other people, don’t notice the zaps and disruptions. They don’t know that you shouldn’t hear voices in your head while you’re praying to God, for instance. God isn’t supposed to talk back to you verbally, but they take that for granted as normal nowadays. God isn’t supposed to offer you specific advice or give you specific commands, but he does that nowadays.

Jared Diamond wrote ‘Guns, Germs, and Steel,’ (typo, haha, I wrote ‘Guns, Germans, and Steel’ at first), but I could write an equivalent book about how drugs have affected societies. The South Americans all chewed coca, a stimulant drug that is most likely the reason why they were so murderous, why they were always doing human sacrifices and stuff, and why they built huge ambitious projects like pyramids. Societies without stimulant drugs did not achieve as much, and might have had different patterns of warfare. I’d like to research it to find out exactly which societies used which drugs, and how it affected their behavior. I think tobacco and coffee and tea have had a huge impact on European society and everything it has done throughout history.

I might not get to the library today…. I’d have to ride the bus. I might just sit here and do nothing and just… fester in my terror for a while.

It’s so easy to incapacitate me, in so many ways. My life is so fragile and uncertain. I can end up going months without having any money or any energy to continue doing the decon. But the decon is the reason why I’m living this way, why everything is so difficult for me, why I don’t have the permanent infrastructures that I need to make my life easier, such as a motorized bike, or a stronger house made of wood or stone so that falling trees won’t crush it. I have to work five days a week, and focusing on work takes away all the time I would spend doing the decon. I’ll have only nine days to do it on my week off work.

The voices have been discussing… that person… with me. They’re telling me that he sincerely doesn’t want to be with me, and he wants me to stop emailing him forever. He’s hoping, supposedly, that this decon will change my behavior enough that I’ll be able to stop. But other puppeteers have tricked me enough to make me believe that he’s actually reading my emails and waiting eagerly to meet me, in spite of everything that he has ever said. It is very hard to stop myself from believing that. If I change my diet, stop drinking coffee, stop drinking milk and Coke and all stimulants, get rid of the drug residues, and do a couple other things, then it will greatly reduce my obsessive thoughts and feelings and moods. Will I still want to go meet him? I don’t know. I can’t predict what will happen. Will ‘they’ still be able to control me? Of course they can. The voices change when I’m drug-free, but they’re still there. They’re just generally less disturbing in a lot of ways if I’m drug-free, and it’s harder for them to make me do crazy things or risky things.

I have all of autumn yet to do the decon if I fail to finish it during this vacation. I feel like everything depends on this week. But it’s true, I’ll go back to work and be exhausted and anxious about time and won’t be able to do decon tasks before or after work every day. I’ll still be climbing the mountain and being exhausted, I still won’t have any food up there and will have to go down every day to eat, and every little thing I do will use up my energy and my time and my money, so that I will barely be able to do even the most trivial tasks of the decon. I’m really scared that I won’t get this done in time and then I will lose the next few months of my life and then it will be winter.

And winter lasts forever. Summer is only a brief week or two in the middle of the year, and then it’s winter again. Winter lasts at least six months here. Maybe seven or eight months. It starts in November and lasts until June. That’s what I experienced this year. If I recall, October was still barely tolerable for a while. November and December became ‘hit or miss’ – good days and bad days, days of freezing cold alternating with days where it was still warm enough to do some kind of outdoor tasks in the tent. Then the whole first half of this year was nothing but endless snowstorms and then endless rain and stationary fronts. I remember reading that the date when farmers in this region generally felt safe from frost was May 1st. Or maybe it was June 1st. I need to check again. Okay, yeah, it would be the beginning of May.

Usually, when it’s freezing, all I do is get out of bed, get on my bike, and go somewhere else. I don’t hang around in the tent when it’s cold. As long as I’m buried in my four ultra thick sleeping bags, I am fine even in the middle of winter when it’s in the single digits or below zero. But I cannot peek out of the sleeping bags or even sit up with my lower body in the bags and my arms out to do stuff like sorting through bags of my belongings.

But even when it’s above freezing, I still can’t do outdoor work for the next couple tens above freezing, such as in the forties and fifties. My fingers freeze and are painful, even though technically I don’t have ‘frostbite’ per se at those temperatures. (I’d really like to test a high fat diet and see if my fingers were still freezing at fifty degrees.)

Sleeping in my tent all winter long made me aware of just how unnecessary indoor heating is. If only you super-super-insulated your house, you would have moderate, tolerable temperatures even in the middle of winter. If you used geo-temperature-whatever – there’s a word for it, and it’s kind of like geothermal or geoenergy or something – you can get the temperature of the earth to come up into your building so that your temperatures were moderated all year long. You use something that conducts heat, like a big piece of metal buried deep into the ground. In the winter, that big piece of metal would be somewhere around fifty degrees, and it would still be about that temperature in the middle of summer. You can use that to air condition your house. I’ve read about it.

The only reason we absolutely have to have indoor heating is because of water pipes, which will freeze and burst and ruin everything. If the water pipes were kept separate from the rest of the house, then you could allow the whole house to freeze safely without harming the water pipes, which would be kept in one small section that was well insulated and/or heated.

I *did* sleep in my tent for most of the winter. It was actually *late* winter when I started going to the hotel over and over again, and it wasn’t because it was ‘too cold’ outside. I slept in my tent even when it was in the single digits. The main reason I slept in the hotel was because I was getting sick over and over again and feeling so miserable that I couldn’t bear to ride my bike all the way home from McDonald’s every night. If I could have ridden home easily and painlessly on a motorized bike, then I might have been able to avoid going to the hotel as often, although there still would have been nights when I would have been tempted to take a hot bath.

I need infrastructure that will give me a hot bath in the woods on Nittany Mountain, and don’t tell me that it can’t be done. It *can* be done, I just need to either buy something or build something that will be either more expensive, more time-consuming to build and maintain, or more at risk of being discovered and destroyed by the property owners of Nittany Mountain (the government, and a couple conservancy organizations). I could get solar panels. I could build fires in a special fire pit where it would be less likely to start a forest fire. I don’t want to chop down trees or make a clearing. I could use batteries. There are springs coming out of the mountain that I could use for bath water. Or I could collect rain water in a reservoir.

All of those things could be discovered, and someone might want me to take them down. All my infrastructure is at risk because I am a squatter and my belongings are not protected. My only protection is the fact that hardly anybody ever walks off the edge of the trail. Hundreds of people go hiking there, but they stay on the trail. I am only a short way off the trail, just far enough that you can’t really see my tent, and far enough that people won’t go wandering through the trailless woods to get to me. If you wander off the path, you will go through spiderwebs, bees’ nests, and other things that I myself have dealt with. They’re really not as bad as people might imagine, although… the bees’ nests were *horrible* last year, and almost nonexistent this year, due to the extremely long cold winter and endless snow and rain.

If you wander off the path while hiking on other mountains, however, like Tussey Mountain, you will walk through rhododendron bushes, which might kill you. I haven’t tried shoving my way through a field of rhododendrons yet. The poison goes directly through your skin and causes a heart attack. Whitetail deer aren’t affected by mountain laurel poison, and they might not be affected by rhododendrons either.

Yeah, I’m not going to the library today. I’m going to sit here and chill and then go to McD. Oh well, I’m carrying a couple heavy books in my backpack and will have to drag them back up the mountain when I go home tonight.

I guess I am impatient for my vacation to start. I am terrified and incapacitated with anxiety. I want to get this done. I have sorted out the stuff in my tent, but I’m still nowhere near ready. I have to do a lot more miscellaneous things, and I’m unclear about what exactly I have to do and what order to do it in. In a decon, it matters what order you do things in. After a certain point, you can’t go back, and must move forward, and you will either contaminate the new area, or cleanly escape from the residues, depending on how well planned the decon protocol is and how well you follow it. You have to touch this and not touch that and don’t walk here and walk here and so on.

Fortunately, the drug residue levels are much lower than they used to be, and so a few small mistakes will not completely destroy my life. But in the past when I was trying to get out of the ephedra pollution, even a couple tiny fingerprints could ruin an entire apartment full of expensive belongings. A decon had to be done perfectly – and I never did one perfectly.

And I believe that my dad’s extremely high blood pressure, and also my ex-boyfriend Peter’s high blood pressure and some kidney problems, were triggered by their coming into my contaminated apartment. I had a combination of ephedra, tobacco, and St. John’s Wort, along with a couple other herbs, and that combination causes extremely high blood pressure, which was one of the symptoms I was having. I also had Borax dust all over the floor, because I had attempted to use it to destroy the ephedra, and it failed, but it poisoned me and gave me kidney problems temporarily. Yes, both Peter and my dad already had high blood pressure, but they both had incidents that were severe enough to make them go to the doctor and get blood pressure meds, after having been in my contaminated apartment.

Anyway, my decons nowadays are nowhere near as horrible as the ones I did in the past, and those ones always failed. I would always end up with new footprints on the floor of any new apartment I moved into, partly because *other people* would enter my apartment without following the rules, such as the maintenance man at the Bellefonte apartment. I had to keep my shoes outside and take them off before entering the house, but the maintenance man would walk across my contaminated area in front of the door and just go up the steps, tracking invisible footprints of residue into the house, which I would then react to when I stepped on the carpet. That’s why I can’t live in a house, for the time being. It’s impossible to remove drug residues from carpets.

It’s nowhere near that bad now. I’m mostly the only person up here, although animals are walking over my contaminated areas. The contaminated areas gradually get buried under the autumn leaves every year. I can move away from them if I need to. I have much more control over it here. I’m just afraid that they will make Steve a puppet and he will come up there looking for me. We have each other’s email now, although I didn’t send him a reply. We just tested that the email was working, and it was, and I didn’t answer. So, I could email him and warn him about my decon if I had to.

Steve is the EII guy who I said was irresistible and every time I encountered him in town I would end up going to his hotel room, although I’ve stopped doing that now, and I’m setting up stronger boundaries and just hugging him. I was always upset when I would encounter him, trying not to go be with him, and always reacting severely to his tobacco. One day a few months ago, I let him come to the tent with me, so he knows where it is. If he came looking for me, he would walk in all the wrong places and break the rules, and I strongly dislike enforcing the rules on other people. I don’t want to have to explain that you have to walk here and here but not here, and you have to take off your shoes before going inside, and this area is ‘holy ground’ that shall not be contaminated by unclean mortals such as yourself. I don’t like to do that.

I’m strongly affected by songs when I’m on drugs. I’m hearing ‘Peace Train’ playing on the radio above me right now. It’s acoustic. There is this painful, aching sadness and longing in it, this begging, for the peace train to come and take us all home. It’s embarrassing for me to talk about a ‘train’ because I only recently found out that ‘riding the train’ is a euphemism for having sex, and I have always been naive about these things. But I am thinking of a non-sexual train as the peace train, although I’m sure a lot of people think that it makes perfect sense to interpret it as the sex train, too, as in ‘make love not war.’

It also made me think of the train song in Harry Potter, which was strangely moving. It was in ‘The Deathly Hallows.’ Hermione and Harry were alone without Ron, and they danced to the radio. This only happened in the movie, not the book. The song seemed to be about the Jewish Holocaust and people who were hiding from someone who was coming into their homes to take them to the prison camps, or at least, that’s how I interpreted the song. Nick Cage* (edit, oops, *CAVE, not Cage). I need to go look it up. I can’t remember it when there’s so much noise around me right now. Okay, it’s called ‘O Children.’

I’m going to post this and maybe read for a while instead of writing. But I’m still terrified, and my anxiety has not been eased. I just want to start my vacation so I can focus every ounce of my energy on finishing this soil decon.

premature celebration

August 6, 2013

5:44 PM 8/6/2013

I’m at home going through my stuff. I HATE DECONS. I hate them so much. I have to throw away objects that look perfectly good, for example, several rolls of duct tape, because anything can be contaminated, and I know from past experience it’s safest to just get rid of as many objects as you possibly can, and only save the things that are really sentimental. I’m making a bag of sentimental things to be sent home to West Virginia in the mail. I’ve already got some of my belongings there. In the future, if I open the bags and boxes again and if I get contaminated, it won’t matter as much, because I won’t be as prone to crazy behavior that ruins my life, as I am now. If I have a husband and children, I won’t have as much of a need to do those things that have ruined my life repeatedly (getting forced crushes on guys and then writing them creepy emails while manic and while under the influence of the voices).

I’m sitting here sorting through all this stuff in my tent and drinking Coke. For me, drinking Coke is like getting drunk. And it probably does give me some alcohol in my body – there’s a lot of corn syrup in there, and I can’t remember the details, but it’s possible for large amounts of sugar to either turn into alcohol for real inside your body, or to do something to your body that is similar to the effects of alcohol. I just don’t remember how it works or where I read this. For all practical purposes, I’m getting myself drunk to do something that I absolutely hate.

My netbook battery won’t last long. I used it earlier today without plugging it in when I was at the Lemont Cafe.

I found my iPod. It’s been buried in one of these bags for all these months. I tried plugging it in to my netbook to recharge it, but it wouldn’t charge. I might have to have the netbook plugged in to do that – it might not charge the iPod if my netbook is using up the battery. Or, the battery might be completely dead and might have to be replaced. I’ll find out over the next few days. If I have an iPod again, that means I will be Twittering random stupid comments from work and putting little things on mobile facebook all day long every time a thought crosses my mind and every time I hear voices in my head. If I recall, there’s a mobile WordPress too, so I’ll be making short little random blogs about trivial things all day long, with lots of typos caused by autocorrect, and lowercase letters because it’s too hard to do uppercase while thumb-typing, and all that. So finding my iPod is not necessarily a good thing.

I’m going through these bags and hating it. I dread opening every bag. It’s all these garbage bags in the tent, and I don’t know what’s going to be in them before I open them. Every bag is unique and different and unexpected. What new and unpredictable problem will I have to deal with THIS time? Every bag has a story behind it. How did this object get in here? What was I planning to do with it? I’m separating them into things that I want to keep and protect, things I want to mail home, things I’m throwing away, things I’m still using right now, and other stuff. I’m trying to consolidate them too, so that I don’t have six different bags with similar items in them.

I want to avoid as much as possible ‘special projects.’ For instance, I have a couple precious books that I’ve kept wrapped in bags all this time. They would have a low level of contamination on them, but nevertheless, it’s a little bit and it’s still there. I’m going to get rid of them, but I don’t want to throw them away. So I’d like to donate them to the library. This is not a dangerous level of contamination, and it won’t cause problems for other people. I *have* had books that were dangerously contaminated in the past, and I threw them away. This, however, is mild. But I want to get rid of them just to minimize any residues that I have on myself. But, donating books to the library is a special project. It means that I have to run an errand, I have to go sometime when the library is open, I have to ask them if they’re accepting random donated books from people or not, and so on. All of this takes time and energy, which I have very little of.

After sorting through several bags one after another, I started weeping and whimpering, but my eyes don’t have any tears – I guess I’m dehydrated after drinking all this Coke. Hard to explain, but, it’s caffeinated, which dehydrates you, and also, it’s sugar water, which, through some complex process having to do with diffusion and osmosis and that kind of thing, fails to hydrate you properly, and instead sucks water out of your body somehow, but that doesn’t make sense because it’s in your intestines, so I can’t explain it. I only know from experience, and from reading, that the only thing that really hydrates you is water without any dissolved substances in it. I am skeptical about that special hydrating formula for people with diarrhea (Pedialyte, and similar drinks), which has some sugar and electrolytes dissolved in it, and I don’t understand the explanation of why it works. Anyway, if you have intestinal cramps, and if you’re drinking a lot of sugary drinks or fruit juices, those juices won’t help you and will only make the intestinal cramps worse, but if you drink pure water, suddenly the intestinal cramps will go away. I found that out the hard way years ago.

So I’m whimpering out loud and complaining about each and every bag – ‘Look what’s in here! TAXES! I never paid my local taxes! And by the time I do, it will be tax time again next year!’ I can’t keep things like that. If I’m not going to do it right away, it has to go.

I had a strange moment with the voices. It felt like a moment from another world, or from another life, or from a novel. I was doing all this, going through these bags, miserable, but I noticed that it was still a beautiful, sunny, breezy day. They said there would be a thunderstorm later today, and I was worried about it, thinking it would interfere with my working in the tent if the thunderstorm were very severe, so I’ve been expecting a storm for hours, but it hasn’t come. ‘There’s a thunderstorm *somewhere* on the continent,’ I thought, and then one of the voices said, ‘Which continent are we referring to?’ I understood this to mean that whatever storms there might be, wherever they were, they were far away and unimaginable. We seemed to be in the midst of an endless, beautiful sunny day, a time of pleasure and joy and happiness that went on and on, and this sunny day was everywhere, not just here in this small local place, but everywhere around the world, and nobody anywhere was suffering, and there was no pain or misery anywhere on earth. I saw myself lying on the grass with someone looking up at the sky, lying on our backs with our arms spread out, unable to imagine that there could be any pain or storms or bad weather or misery anywhere on earth.

It seemed like this moment was, maybe, a mistake, when we were innocent and we didn’t know that terrible things were about to happen, but it also seemed to be true and real and not a mistake, as though it really was true that there was no suffering anywhere and nothing bad was going to happen, and the peace and happiness would just continue, in a world of innocence where bad things did not happen. And the vision that made me feel this way was the image of a whole continent of sunlight everywhere and no storms coming.

I needed to take a break from sorting through my belongings. But, I have gotten a little bit of work done today. It’s never enough, and I’m still anxious, and now I feel the urge to go down the mountain again so I can try to recharge my computer and see if it will charge my iPod this time. But I might try again to do just a little more work.

I will have to be weeping and whimpering again. I am under the influence of drugs, and so I’ve been begging God to forgive me for my waste as I throw away perfectly good items for the decon. I hate waste. I hate throwing these things away. I hate the decon. I never want to have to do a decon ever again.

7:48 PM 8/6/2013

I went through several more bags, and now the bags in my tent are more organized and consolidated and I mostly know what’s in them and what I need to do with them. I have several more bags of trash outside the tent ready to go down the hill.

The title that I wrote on this notepad file was ‘premature celebration! WOOOOOOOO!!!!’ because I was happy about doing some work for the decon, even though it’s not done yet.

I had a terror attack yesterday, which was probably caused by a stomach virus; I sorted through just a few small things in the tent

August 6, 2013

8:17 PM 8/5/2013

I didn’t get a lot done, but I did get one small thing done today. I sorted through one particular bag that was in my tent. And in that bag, I found a rotten sandwich wrapped in foil which had come from Sheetz and which had been there since probably January or so, I’m guessing. That’s where the smell was coming from. Every night while lying in bed, if I would lie in a certain position with my head facing towards some of the bags, there was this horrible smell, and I didn’t know what it was. I thought it was from the urine that had accidentally gotten down on the floor, but that was in a different area. This smell just never seemed to go away no matter what, and it was always in a certain area towards the top of the tent.  (Darn, I was wrong, the smell was still there overnight last night.)

How did I get a rotten sandwich wrapped in a bag for eight or nine months? I had dumped out the contents of my backpack into a plastic bag and then wrapped it up to protect it against rainwater. There were a few things in there that were worth protecting, such as my Dell recovery disks for my netbook. But there was also random garbage in there, such as the sandwich. I was trying to solve the mystery of this bag and I remembered cleaning out my backpack, and that was how that had happened. I had bought a sandwich and apparently had felt sick or something and wasn’t able to finish eating it, and I wrapped it up and put it in my backpack, maybe expecting to eat more of it a few minutes later, but I never did, and it got squashed deep into the bottom of the backpack, and then it got dumped out into this plastic bag, which has been sitting at the upper part of my tent all summer long producing a horrible odor. Mystery solved! That’s a decon for you.

In this bag I found some things from the Freethought Meetup group. I found a little flyer describing the winter solstice and why we celebrate it. The solstices and the seasons are much, much more important to me now than they ever were in the past. I am paying very close attention to what the weather is doing, what the sun is doing, and how long the days are. That’s because I’m living outdoors and riding my bike, exposed to the weather, and because I want to do some cleanup work in the tent. When it’s bitter cold and freezing, I can’t do any work in the tent. I can only do one thing: crawl into my multiple sleeping bags and curl up until I produce enough heat and then go to sleep. I cannot sit there with my arms and hands out of the sleeping bag doing some task in the tent when it’s below freezing. I can’t even do it when it’s just above freezing, like in the forties and fifties. So I am very aware of the weather. And now that I am camping amongst the trees, I notice more things, like when the nuts are falling off the trees – they make a lot of noises. That only happens during a particular time of year.

I’ve been having a panic attack this evening. I was trying to sort through more bags, but the sun started going down. And I was having some difficulties and uncertainties which would require more thought and more planning. I’m affected badly by the drug residues right now, too, and I’ve had a lot of caffeine today. Those things contribute to my panic attacks.

I became emotional at the sight of a Christmas card from my mother. She didn’t say much on it, just something like ‘Love, Mom and Dad’ at the bottom, and I have been throwing away those cards instead of keeping them, because of the decon, because I cannot keep anything made of paper, which is easily contaminated. But it made me miss her. I’m worried about her because of her injury. Still, I did throw away the card, along with other papers.

I was very glad to discover the horrible smelling rotten sandwich in the bag and I got rid of it. It’s outside now. Some skunk will probably want to rip open the trash bag to get to it. If skunks like rotten fermented sandwiches that have been there for eight months, then, whatever floats their boat. That’s similar to the type of thing that the skunk was going after when it ripped into my other trash bags in the past. It was a McDonald’s breakfast sandwich that had been sitting in a bag for months and was all dried out. I thought that no animal would ever want to eat that, but apparently they do. If they’re able to smell it, they want to at least try to eat it. But I imagine these poor skunks must be dying of food poisoning afterwards.

I hung up that meat on little cotton strings. I folded each little strip of meat over the string. That’s similar to an image I saw online somewhere else where somebody was drying meat in the Arctic. That’s what inspired me to do it that way. That’s how you pick up these things. Isn’t it interesting, all I did was see an image online and my brain permanently remembered it and now I know of a way to do something that nobody ever taught me how to do. And we can learn so much by seeing different ways of doing something. If somebody else had some other simple method of drying meat, then I’d see an image of that and remember it forever and know how to do it when it came time to do it.

The meats have gotten pretty dry now. They felt sort of clammy and gummy yesterday, but now they feel much harder and stiffer. That’s how they’re supposed to feel. They’re supposed to dry so much that they are rock hard. You won’t be able to chew them without breaking a tooth. That’s why you have to pulverize them by crushing them with rocks, so they become like a powder. I read on one source that you can dry the meat for ‘a fortnight,’ and it becomes black and rock hard and impermeable to decay or insects.

I knew I was having an anxiety attack tonight when I started doing something irrational. I was using black trash bags. I have black ones and white ones. Usually, if it’s in a white bag, that’s a signal that it’s something I’m keeping, rather than trash. If I’m throwing it away it’s usually in a black trash bag. That’s not always true – if it’s just small light trash, like food wrappers, I have a white bag that I put it in, and I eventually would throw that white bag into the Sheetz dumpster. I chose white bags for that so it would match with the clear or white bags they already use at Sheetz, so it won’t be so noticeable that I’m opening up their dumpster and putting in my own bags, which might be something I’m not allowed to do. I have to open a gate in order to reach the dumpster, which signals that I’m not allowed to go there. So I want my bags to be less visible, so I use the white ones. But for a decon, when I’m throwing away lots of big heavy stuff and stuff that takes up a lot of space, I use black bags, and I sometimes get someone to help me take those bags away. I may indeed want to get help with that.

Anyway, I ran out (*edit: I ran out *OF* black bags!!! Why am I skipping words??? This is SO ANNOYING! I keep noticing that I’m skipping small words while I write, little words like ‘of’ or ‘the.’ It’s been happening a lot lately, and I catch it on reread.*) black bags while I was sorting through some garbage in the tent. I put a reminder on my phone to get more black bags tomorrow morning. Then, I started sorting through what looked like a pile of trash. But it was actually a whole bunch of empty white trash bags that I had just piled up loose at the bottom of the tent. I started throwing those empty white bags into the black garbage bag as though they were garbage, rather than keeping them to use as garbage bags. I had put them there intending to use them, but I was just throwing them away now. I realized I was doing something irrational because I was panicking, and then I also remembered that I had a bunch of black trash bags in the other tent which I had found while moving stuff out of my storage tent. So I already have more black bags up here on the mountain, and also I had all those empty white trash bags that I was, for some reason, throwing away. I was just blindly stuffing them into the garbage merely because they had been lying out on the floor.

So I stopped myself from doing this, and I pulled out all those white bags that were still perfectly good to use for trash, and I put them all into one other bag to keep them together, and I will use them for garbage tomorrow. ‘You don’t have to use black bags,’ I told myself. I knew I was being irrational and doing something that made no sense and that I was having a panic attack.

I got very little done today. I just did some things to ease my anxiety, like going to McDonald’s, charging up my cell phone, eating food and drinking soda and coffee, and then going home. I bought a sandwich at McDonald’s, but felt disgusted with it and didn’t want to eat it, so I thought I might be sick. I only took a few bites of it. But on the way home, I decided to stop at Giant, because I still felt hungry. I wanted to get something from the salad bar. I walked through the produce department, looking around for the salad bar, confused, not finding it anywhere, and was disappointed. I decided that they must take down the salad bar after a certain hour in the afternoon when people were no longer shopping there for lunch. Then I happened to see that the salad bar was right over there, where it always was, and the voices in my head affectionately said ‘there it is, you retard,’ and made ‘herp-de-derp’ noises and retard faces at me, which made me smirk (because I’m on drug residues and I smirk easily). So I went over and got a bunch of stuff off the salad bar, and I got some Starbucks frappuccino bottles, and a couple of chocolate bars.

Then I went outside and went all the way to the back of the parking lot near the railroad tracks, almost behind the building, because I wanted to sit and eat in a private place where a lot of cars wouldn’t be driving by or people watching me. The clouds were starting to fill the sky, and there was a breeze, and I was anxious to get home to guard my open tent against the rain. I *never* leave my tent open when I go out. I only left it open to help the meat dry, and it worked – the meat did dry out a lot today. It went from ‘gummy’ to ‘mostly hard.’

I had thought I was too sick to eat, but actually, I just didn’t want McDonald’s food. I wolfed down the salad bar foods like there was no tomorrow. I love having a lot of variety and bright colors. I just got a jumble of lots of random stuff, like that imitation crab stuff, and seafood salad, and cooked beets chopped into little cubes, and feta cheese, and eggs, and broccoli, and dozens of other things, just one scoop each, all mixed together in a big pile. I had a few leafy greens in there too.

Then I went home and climbed the hill to my tent. I laid down and read a book for a while, ‘The World Until Yesterday,’ by Jared Diamond. It’s kind of hard to read that book, actually, even though it’s written by my socionic dual. Some parts of it are dragging. I had a hard time reading the chapter about how disputes are resolved. I don’t enjoy reading the parts where he’s talking about modern governments and the modern legal systems and what they do. This is a demonstration of the socionic model: the IEE actually *uses* all its mental ring functions, including the superego functions (-Se/+Si, +Ti/-Te, in Bukalov’s Model B – did I ever mention that I found out my model that I’ve been talking about all this time is Bukalov’s Model B?), and talks about them. I just don’t enjoy hearing about those superego functions very much. That superego represents ‘government’ to me. IEEs actually talk about government and its institutions, and they submit to them and comply with them in ways that I don’t, because of my type. They’re more likely to become a university professor, to submit to the rules of the university, to fit in to the group, to conform to the academic world, to accept the existence of government even though they don’t really like it, and to talk about it and its institutions verbally. That’s the whole mental ring being used, all of its functions. I’m saying this because when I was on the forum, there were some people who took the view that we don’t actually *use* the superego functions, or you can’t really see them, or they’re just a symbolic placeholder to show the things that we dislike, or something. But no, I see IEEs and EIIs talking and behaving in ways that show their superegos, and I can see them and hear them talking about it.

Similarly, I myself talk about ‘evil people,’ which might possibly be my 4th function, +Fe/-Fi. I group together all doctors as evil, for instance, even though individual doctors might be good people. I just talk about ‘all doctors’ as a group. But if I had +Fi in my mental ring, then I would be referring to individual doctors by name, and talking about the accomplishments of this or that particular doctor. (Actually, I sometimes do talk about particular people, when I’m ranting about a favorite author or something.)

This book is very educational to me though. It’s changing my perspective in some ways. It’s also helping me develop my concept of what exactly the Anaya tribe will be.

Hmm… this is not good. I feel like I’m gonna vomit sometime tonight. I just had diarrhea badly. I did say that I felt sick earlier and didn’t want to eat my sandwich. That would explain why I’m having an anxiety attack. Vomit viruses do that to me. Yeah, I really do feel like I’m gonna vomit. I don’t know exactly when it will happen. It could be the parasites finally kicking in, or maybe I do just have a virus. Maybe it’s because I opened up that bag that had the sandwich in it. But no, I don’t think so – I was feeling sick earlier today. I hope it’s not the parasites. If the vomiting and diarrhea are persistent for many days, I’ll know that’s what it is. I think I might take a break from writing. That explains why I’m having such a terror attack. I could have used too much caffeine, too, after having withdrawn from it and not being used to it, and suddenly using a bunch of it again. Wow, I’m having that feeling – yeah, this is bad. I *am* probably gonna puke tonight. Not good.

10:30 PM 8/5/2013

Well, I didn’t puke yet. I did the Roger Callahan’s Thought Field Therapy (TFT) technique, or Emotional Freedom Techniques (EFT), the free ripoff version. I don’t do a formal method, I just informally tap whichever points I feel like tapping. At the very worst, this method is merely a harmless and ineffective placebo – no harm done, you merely tap on particular parts of your body with your fingers – no drugs, no injections, no poisons, no side effects, nothing. In the middle range, it might possibly be as effective as other types of physical touch that are known to be comforting and soothing, such as hugs, massages, sex, or a hot bath. At best, it is as effective as its proponents claim it is, and they make some extravagant claims of miracles. I have used it in moments of terror and it works for me. I used it to comfort myself when I felt like I was going to vomit, and within a few seconds, my body relaxed and the vomiting feeling went away. Now my stomach and intestines are all calmed down, although I still feel that something is wrong in there. Next time I have diarrhea, I will feel sick again, I know.

Hmm, I have cold sores on the inside of my lip. I probably have a virus, then.

I was going to mention the crickets. The crickets, or whatever they are – they’re something, maybe not as high pitched as crickets. I know crickets are very high pitched and different from this. These are more like cicadas or something. Rhythmic buzzing, usually high up in the trees, all night long in the summer. Zip-zip-zip-zip… zip-zip-zip… zip-zip-zip-zip…. all night long. The entire forest is full of them. They take turns zipping and pausing. You can hear whole groups zipping almost simultaneously and pausing, and then another whole group responds from a different location. One group over here, the other group over there, taking turns, in a rhythm that goes on and on and on.

The other night, a cold front was about to go through. Just before this cold front, there was a huge, terrifying wave of *something*. I don’t know what it was. It might have been the air pressure dropping suddenly and drastically (or maybe rising?), or it might have been an electromagnetic field, or maybe even a wave of infrasound. I felt this wave of *something* that went over the whole forest and the whole mountain all at once. I’ve felt similar sensations during thunderstorms. It was huge and terrifying. My instinctive response was, ‘oh my god I’ve got to get out of here!’ I had the feeling that I urgently needed to go someplace safe right away.

When this wave went through, *all the crickets silenced at once*. They were all zipping and zipping and zipping constantly, and this wave of terror swept over us all, and… TOTAL SILENCE.

Tonight I felt a few similar waves, but milder. There is another cold front that will be coming through, and we’ll be getting thunderstorms tomorrow. These waves were smaller, but I could feel them and hear them affecting the cicadas. The rhythm of the cicadas was affected. One group would zip, but then, when it was the other group’s turn to respond, they would hesitate, and the rhythm would flop. It’s a giant symphony. And the one group of players messed it up. They were supposed to jump in at that moment, but they weren’t there. And then the next group would seem to pause and be confused for a second. But then they would start zipping again. The interruptions and disruptions were milder and briefer and less dramatic than they were in the incident the other night. But I could feel the waves of terror flooding over us, just much milder, and I could hear the crickets as they felt them too.

I alternate between calling them crickets and cicadas. I don’t know what they are.

I’m still sick, I just temporarily soothed myself with the Callahan techniques. I can tell that there will be more problems later when I have diarrhea again. The cold sores make me feel hopeful that this is only a virus and it will go away soon. A coworker told me she wasn’t feeling well the other day. Maybe it is a virus.

The reason why I don’t want it to be caused by the parasites is because that might last longer and be harder to cure. But, again, I’ve had parasites in the past, and they always went away on their own. I got them from eating rare steak, undercooked fish fillets, raw milk, an undercooked earthworm, and sushi. I only ate a couple tiny nibbles of this raw meat, this time.

12:46 PM 8/6/2013

I’m not as sick today. I think I might have had a virus, I’m hoping.

I just sort of realized this morning that it’s not going to be as bad as I was thinking it’s going to be. I was working on a previous decon attempt last fall, and it was *late* last fall, I forget exactly when. But that tells me that I actually have a few more months before it becomes too cold to do work in the tent. I will get a lot done during this vacation, and even if for any reason I fail, I will still have some months in which it’s possible to do outdoor work. I was afraid that this was my very last opportunity before the winter. But it’s not too late and I still have time.

I’m going to look at the radar and see if we’re getting a thunderstorm today and how long it might last.

The people at the Lemont Cafe (you know, the place with hair in the food) are really cool hippie types. They might even be Betas (socionically), I don’t know, or other types, not necessarily Deltas, but even so, they’re cool. These people are talking about someone having too much of a ‘capitalist business model’ for their small business, and other things that sound interesting. Funny how much I’ve mellowed out about Ayn Rand. I can actually listen to people complaining about a capitalist business model, and I can actually see grains of truth in it, a *lot* of grains of truth.

Ugly women; and, the photos I forgot to upload yesterday

August 5, 2013

2:14 PM 8/5/2013

The Accuweather radar says that the rain is still far away and we’re supposed to get a thunderstorm tomorrow, but I don’t believe them. I believe it will rain later today. I left my tent open (the rain fly off and the screen unzipped on the door) so the meat would continue to dry. I’m at McD charging my cell phone, and it’s finally finished charging. I have some plans for what I need to do at home today. Mostly I needed to alleviate my intense anxiety, so I went here and ate food and drank Coke.

I forgot about uploading the pictures, but I’m doing it now.

I googled ‘ugly woman.’ That was a suggestion from ‘them.’ I’m looking at pictures of what the world thinks is ugly. It’s interesting to me. I practice a sort of ugliness acceptance and a troubleshooting approach, as well as a desire to give people makeovers. I’m affected by drug residues right now – I have been ever since my shoes got wet the other day – so I’m thinking about this kind of thing more than usual.

‘Makeovers’ are always Anaya makeovers: stop doing everything to your hair, and just let it grow. Stop shaving, stop trimming everything, and become natural. Stop wearing makeup.

The google results show a lot of images that I find tolerable. I would accept these women. However, if I were making an intentional community, the rules would be there to ‘fix’ them in whatever ways that we could. We would accept whatever remains that we cannot fix, such as severe obesity and facial deformities. We would fix whatever we have control over, such as bad haircuts and bad makeup. I haven’t made any rules about clothing except that we must value nudity, and allow the clothing to vary between local tribes of Anaya.

Some of the google results are obviously photoshopped. Those don’t count. Any kind of facial distortion will usually result in ugliness.

There are Weston Price facial deformities, which are preventable. I see a lot of huge teeth that stick out in front, crooked and irregular teeth, narrow faces.

I see some obesity. Obesity is also preventable, but it might not be curable (with relatively harmless methods, but it can be reduced using dangerous and unhealthy methods). Obesity would be accepted in my community, but we would all be required to eat a more nourishing diet, which might result in maintaining the same weight, losing weight, or gaining weight, and weight loss would not be the explicit goal of the diet.

Of course, I see women with mustaches. I see some women with armpit hair. I see women with unibrows, most of which are photoshopped and fake and have no resemblance to a real unibrow, which is beautifully curved to follow the bridge of the nose, and does not just go in a straight line across the face.

When I was a teenager, I drew pictures of ugly women who looked a lot like these google search results. I did makeovers on them. My makeover techniques have changed since then, but it’s still a makeover and a desire to fix and prevent ugliness from happening. It’s preventable and partially treatable, but not completely treatable.

There are some results that show women with horrible, extreme plastic surgery, such as the ‘Lion Woman,’ if I recall, the one who made herself look like a cat. She has these narrow eyes and a strangely deformed face.

Some of the women are real, but a different ethnic group, or just slightly obese but not horribly so.

Some of them are old women with no teeth left in their mouths, who are making strange squashed-mouth facial expressions. Tooth loss is supposedly preventable.

Some people are ugly just because we’re not used to seeing people who look that way. Primitive women have broader faces, larger mouths, and unplucked eyebrows and unshaved hair.

Primitive tribes might decorate themselves with tattoos, piercings, or inserted objects such as sticks poked into their faces that stick out like whiskers. (Those things wouldn’t be allowed in Anaya.)

I have to finish this up soon. I also have to fix whatever is wrong with the uploader. It didn’t finish one or two of the photos.

Anyway, it’s interesting to see what the world thinks is ugly.

Oh, I forgot to mention ‘sick people.’ People who just look outright *sick* are in the ugly photo results. They look like they are unhealthy in every possible way, malnourished, on drugs, miserable. Sick people should be prevented and treated too.

There are also some relatively normal looking women, who somebody just decided were ugly, for example, this one. She looks ‘real’ to me, just a unique individual person. Nothing is wrong with her, and in fact, I see her as beautiful in her own way.

normal woman labeled as ugly

Oh, I fixed the lump of hair sticking out on the right side of my head. I twisted it underneath some other hair and tucked it in, and it seems to be staying tucked in. It will probably come untucked the next time I wash my hair, but for now, it’s staying down.

Okay, here are the photos.