Archive for August, 2014

sick again! struggling to get by, waiting to move into the apartment, doing my laundry, hoping to visit someone today

August 26, 2014

1:37 PM 8/26/2014

I’m having an internal battle, which would have been much easier if I weren’t being constantly zapped by radio waves. I could make good decisions if I could think. I’d use my EFT tapping, I’d meditate about what I really want and need, and I’d muster up the will to take actions to get to that goal. That’s what I’d do in the real world.

But now, I am manipulated. My energy is wasted. The goals that I am directed towards are not always in my best interests. Right now, I’m debating about whether to take these cats or not. I do love cats and ideally I’d want to take them all, but that probably means rescuing every single cat on the entire planet from their captivity inside the houses of millions of people.

Cats are slaves, and so are dogs, and people keep them locked indoors when they need to go outside. To me it’s almost the same as keeping black people as slaves on your plantations and in your mansions. I know it seems contradictory that I’m recognizing the right to freedom of these cats, while simultaneously asserting that we humans have the right to kill and eat animals, including cats.

I do not like cat abuse, and I’ve seen the cat meat trade in China, on youtube, and I’ve seen how they mistreat the cats and drag them around by the neck and throw them in cages. But if the cats were running free in the woods, and somebody hunted them and killed them to eat them, that would be okay with me. I am not opposed to eating cats in principle, although in reality my instinct would be to love them and nurture them if I saw a real cat instead of an abstract idea of a cat.

So I don’t believe in putting cats into a shelter, but instead I believe they should be released into the woods, and if someone wants to hunt them and eat them as they run free in the woods, then let them do that. People believe it’s cruel to let them be exposed to the elements outdoors, and they believe it’s cruel to kill them for food. True, I don’t have any idea where cats, or any other animals for that matter, ever find shelter, because I myself have been camping, and I know you can’t sleep directly on the ground, because the ground just saps all the heat out of your body immediately, and you’ll get hypothermia by sleeping on the ground. How on earth do animals sleep? But somehow, they do.

Anyway, so I’m debating about these cats. I don’t really want to take on the burden of cats, and if I move again to another apartment, I’ll have to be the one to decide their fate, like the girl who is now moving out – she had to decide their fate first, because they were hers, and she chose to have them. How could you choose to have cats, while living temporarily in an apartment and not knowing where you were going to go after that? Oh well, just dump them on someone else! No big deal, I’m really not all that attached to my own cats, and who cares if I just give them away or put them in a shelter where they might eventually be put to sleep because people are too stupid to just drive them in a car to the wilderness and release them, where they will be fine.

I’d have this all figured out by now, and a decision made, if I weren’t being zapped. My brain would know exactly what to do, and I’d have the strength to do it. Assertiveness requires focus and strength. It takes courage to say ‘no’ to things I don’t want.

Ohhhhh… I need to filter the water in my tent. I have a jug of water, and it just came out of a tap. My stomach has been sick repeatedly for the last couple days, and I can’t eat much, and usually that means I’m sick from the tap water. I still have my filter pitcher in the tent, I just didn’t bother to get it out and use it, but my recurring stomach sickness indicates that I should. I’m sitting here at the diner and I can’t eat.

I’m about to go wash the laundry, just my work uniforms. I’m waiting for the bus now. Just as I was coming out of my tent, I heard the bus driving away, and there was no chance of catching it. I don’t want to walk all the way into town. It’s really not that far, but it’s a hot afternoon, and my feet will hurt. And I’m going through a ‘fat phase’ right now. The lower half of my body is fatter than usual, and I have a couple theories as to why that’s happening: 1. drug residues, secondhand, possibly antidepressants, on my skin; 2. eating at McD again, where the food contains hormones or some unknown substance that causes fat gain which is greatly disproportionate to the number of calories in the food – you could eat the lowest calorie item, and still gain fat from it, if it contained hormones; 3. some kind of toxic poison other than drug residues or hormones, or some other illness which I haven’t understood yet. It could even be the insulin on my work uniform from the incident with Brett’s insulin reaction. Synthetic insulin is a horrible poison, and it goes through the skin, and I suspect it causes obesity and diabetes. Yeah, that’s right: I just said, insulin causes diabetes! It wouldn’t surprise me at all if it did! I’m already sure that synthetic insulin causes kidney damage and other organ damage.

Do I want to skip this run of the bus, and wait another hour here before I do the laundry? I haven’t eaten all my food. I don’t want to rush out. I might wait a whole hour for the next bus.

Last night I had a problem with Jesse. He was working by himself at McD overnight. But I went to sit there and use the wifi for a while so that I could see him briefly and give him a hug before work. However, this caused an unforeseen problem. I gave him a hug, but since we haven’t really been together outside work for this past week, I really wanted to spend more time with him, and not just hugging. And he responded to that, and didn’t want to go in to work, and was distracted while he was there. He’s already kind of distracted at work, but was even more distracted because of wanting to be with me.

I thought that his bad mood and distraction was caused by him not feeling well, being sick or in drug withdrawal or something, but in reality it was probably just his response to me physically, being aroused for hours and unable to do anything about it because he was at work. Eventually I left and went home to the tent, thinking that I was distracting him by being there, but that did not really solve the problem, and we texted each other, and I argued with him and begged him not to leave work, because he wasn’t in the mood to stay there. I kept thinking for a while that he was just sick or having a mood swing resulting from drugs somehow, but eventually figured out that he probably just wanted to be with me very badly, based on the things he said in his text messages. He couldn’t just come out and say ‘I really want to have sex with you right now,’ so I had to piece it together. However, he told me he was going to stay at work. I’m pretty sure he did stay.

I’m so sick of being sick! I can barely eat anything! It’s been going on for days. I’ve had enough – I’m going to start filtering all my water before I drink it in the tent. I’ll just have to take the trouble of getting the filter pitcher out and pouring the water through it first before putting it into the other jug. No big deal, just an extra step, but I’m tired of being sick at my stomach for days and days and days. I can barely even choke down this one tiny plate of food at the diner. I only ordered one small plate of corned beef hash.

I can’t wait for something in the future: I’m going to start wearing homemade clothes, including dresses. You might think I’m not feminine, because I let my mustache grow without shaving it or waxing it, and I don’t shave the rest of my hair, and I have a different concept of female beauty, the idea of plainness – but in reality, I am feminine and I don’t want to be a man. I want to have children, and I want to be nurturing. I actually have nothing against dresses. I don’t think dresses should be mandatory, but then again, I don’t think anybody should be shocked by the image of me wearing a dress. It’s going to be a plain, simple, comfortable dress, not something frilly or sexy. It won’t be ‘modest’ like the Amish dresses, but it will still be legal for me to wear it in public. The purpose of my clothing is to prevent me from being arrested for nudity. I’m a nudist in reality, and I would live in a community where people were allowed to walk around naked outdoors. Also, I like men wearing robes. I like the men in foreign countries who wear robes, like the Arabic people.

Oh my god, I feel sick. I don’t know how I’m going to even be able to ride the bus into town to do the laundry. I feel so sick that I want to just lie down again, or vomit, or just die. I have a headache and I’m really tired. I coughed a couple times this morning for no reason, and I know it sounds trivial that I ‘coughed a couple times,’ but I never cough at all, and I have very healthy lungs and no allergies, so I wondered if I had inhaled diatomaceous earth at the apartment, or something, or if I was coming down with the virus that other people have. Anytime the students come to town or leave town, I get sick. That’s one reason why I hate this town.

I am still getting used to my loose hair. I’m frustrated by its permanent shortness. I love photographs of people with hair growing all the way to the ground. That will never be me, unless I grow dreadlocks, which can grow to infinite length. My hair has its thickest area at exactly the same length as all the people who cut their hair: mid-back. The majority of my hairs end there, and below that, it gets thinner, because the hairs down below there are coming from the lower back region of my head – it’s hard to explain. Imagine that all the hairs on the head grow to the same length. So you would notice that as they hung down in the back, the hairs coming from the top of your head would hang higher up than the hairs coming from the lower back of your head, because their roots are up higher. That’s what I mean. I just don’t feel like trying to explain it. Basically my hair tapers to a thinner and thinner point in the back, and the thickest area is not down very far at all.

If I can’t have long hair, then I want to have long hair vicariously, through others – but no, even people who are capable of growing floor-length hair always cut their hair to conform to social norms. I could enjoy living in a community where everyone else had longer hair than mine, just because I love the sight of long hair, even if I can’t have it myself. Individual differences are okay. I am not going to be threatened by the competition.

I might as well post this and start reading stuff on the net for a while as I wait for the next bus. I want to try to visit Jesse today. We’re both off work. I wanted so badly to keep on petting him when I hugged him last night as he was on his way to work, but I had to let him go. I should have time to do that today if I can only not be deathly sick. Maybe I will just be deathly sick with him and be with him anyway, while I’m miserable and dying. It’s better than not visiting him at all today on the one day when we can.

Several people have complimented me about my hair, even though it wasn’t done yet when they saw it. A few people recognize me, because I’ve lived in this area for years and have had dreadlocks for a long time. I’m sort of a ‘celebrity’ because I work in the McD drive-thru. Everyone who goes through the drive-thru recognizes me as ‘that lady who works at McD.’ Sometimes, people will see me someplace else and say, ‘Oh, I know you – you work at McDonald’s!’ So, they all have noticed that I’ve been combing out my hair. If only people understood what I wanted – a whole community of people whose hair was like mine, both men and women, of all races.

The shabby little house with cats and the plaid shirt guy in front of it

August 25, 2014

9:50 PM 8/25/2014

I visited the new house today. There is an oldish lady living there. Her daughter sometimes lived there in the past, but now she is either going to school or living someplace else, so she won’t be there. There is another girl who is moving out from the upstairs apartment, which is where I will be living. She’s moving out by Saturday.

She has two male cats. She isn’t taking them with her, and was going to get rid of them. I said I would take them. I’ve never owned cats before. When I was living with, or visiting, my ex-boyfriend’s trailer years ago, I collected the stray cats that lived around there, but it was really Eric who was feeding them.

This time, I will be paying for them myself, and I will find out from experience how much it costs to feed cats. I’ll do some experimental diets with them, like giving them real organ meats instead of just cat food, and making sure I don’t give them grain and don’t vaccinate them. The first thing that’s coming off is their collars. And I’ll start letting them outside. The lady who owns the house knows that the previous tenant didn’t let them outside. One of them is declawed in the front feet, and the other one has all its claws. I’m still letting them out anyway. There aren’t a lot of enemies around here for it to fight with. I’d rather my cat have its freedom, even if there is a risk of death.

If you let a cat out, and it never comes back, then it wasn’t yours to begin with and it never loved you. I’m going to try that and see what happens. Then again, I guess that could mean that it died somewhere, too. But mostly, I’m talking about when a cat doesn’t want to stay with you, but you force it to stay by keeping it indoors. Cats do not belong indoors for a lifetime, although it would be okay if they could come and go freely all the time as they chose.

People are part of the map on Google Street View. There’s some dude with a blue plaid shirt, khaki shorts, and a backpack, walking in front of my house forever and ever. I’ll always know, my house is the house with the plaid guy in front of it.

The facial recognition software must be seeing faces in the flowers, or something, because I’m seeing random objects blurred out, including a lot of flowers on this tree. They’re pink flowers. Maybe pink things look like Caucasian skin tones. I know I used to be able to see faces in the shadows when I was lying in bed scared to fall asleep when I was a kid, and you can see faces in almost anything if you’re on drugs.

This house is a mess. There is a smell of cat urine and also mold. There is diatomaceous earth all over the floor in the basement because one of the previous tenants was trying to get rid of fleas. It was probably bird mites or something, not fleas. I’ve had the same experience. If I get ambitious, I might vacuum the basement. I’m probably going to have mites constantly because of the cats, but diatomaceous earth isn’t going to help. I’d rather not have any kind of dust particles. I never get allergies, but after I left that house, my nose was running. It really needed to be cleaned from top to bottom.

The lady was sort of old and sickly, a little bit fat but not a lot, and she said she had arthritis in her knees – she said she wished she could lose a little weight to make it easier on her knees. She said that, apparently, she had a very efficient metabolism that saved as much fat as it could, even though she ate very little. I mentioned that sometimes prescription drugs, like blood pressure drugs, could also make you fat – not knowing whether she used any prescription drugs or not.

So this will be the house where I learn, once again, about
environmental illness and about parasitic skin mites. I will also learn how it feels to be bonded to cats who depend on you. There probably aren’t a lot of rodents around here for them to hunt, so they will have to be fed, or else taken to a rodent-filled area and released. I’m probably not taking them someplace and releasing them, so instead I’ll try some raw organ meat diets on them. Cats normally hung around near humans on farms because humans kept lots of grain in their silos, and the mice would try to eat the grain, and the cats would eat the mice, and during the Black Plague, cats might have possibly stopped rats from spreading the plague, although that explanation doesn’t make sense to me, because if cats were eating plague-infested rats, then the cats themselves would sicken and spread the plague. I think the plague stopped for other reasons.

So I won’t be able to just leave this apartment without thinking about what’s going to happen to the cats. That will be sort of a burden. But, I’m within a couple minutes’ walking distance of Jesse’s house. I’m also near a grocery store and the Goodwill and thrift stores, and also the R bus. I need to get a new bike.

We’ll see how it goes. I’ll see if this place makes me sick. I did feel a little bit dizzy, probably because of the mold in the air. So I might have fatigue problems when I’m indoors there. It’s a really shabby little old house. And you don’t know what’s in all the houses everywhere – every house could be like this on the inside, slowly rotting and poisoning people, as the old people slowly sicken and rot inside. If only their houses were cleaned, if only they got rid of the moldy wood, if only they got rid of the pesticides and other chemicals inside their homes, if they got rid of the lead paint – usually, they say lead paint has been removed by now, but you can’t always be sure that it has – if they got rid of all those chemicals, then how much of a health improvement would these old people have? How much of their sickness comes from their rotting, toxic old houses?

I’m thinking of changing my availability at both jobs, so that I will get enough hours, and so that I will work with Jesse more often. I’ll need more hours because now I’ll be paying $400 a month for rent, and it’s been a long time since I paid that much rent. I was paying $280 a month, plus some occasional bills which the Chinese people weren’t making me really pay. I had to actually pester them to go calculate how much I owed for the electric bills and stuff, because they usually just didn’t bother with it. Wouldn’t it be nice to have so much money that you just didn’t give a crap about a roommate who wasn’t paying any bills? I always wonder where the money comes from, for all these foreign students who are paying hundreds of thousands of dollars to come to Penn State, who spend thousands on plane tickets to go home during the holidays (for those that do go home – some of them stay here, of course).

So I guess I should get out my notebook and start doing some calculations so I can figure out how many hours I need. I’m also starting to think again about getting a higher paying job, perhaps doing bookkeeping. That’s more money for less work, less exhausting physical labor.

Neatly combed braided hair

August 25, 2014





10:48 AM 8/25/2014

My camera batteries died, so I took pictures on my phone. But now I’m out of minutes to use for sending the phone images to my computer. So I really can’t get a lot of good pictures right now. But, over the last couple days, I finally combed out the last of my dreadlocks.

My hair has a fluffy texture that it did not used to have. I have a couple theories about what caused this.

1. Shampooing my hair all the time, without conditioning it, and without rinsing the shampoo out very well, because it’s hard to thoroughly rinse out the inside of a tangled, dense, matted dreadlock. Perhaps the shampoo damaged the hair.

2. Combing with a fine toothed comb, hundreds of times over the same hair, as I removed each lock. Combing damages hair. I used to always use a wide toothed comb just to gently detangle my hair. Combs damage hair too.

3. A ‘texturizing’ conditioner that I used for a while by accident. I got the wrong kind of conditioner to comb out my locks, because the bottles looked similar and I thought it wouldn’t matter much. It turned out that the ‘texturizing’ Finesse really did not help much when I was combing my locks – it didn’t give enough lubrication, and instead made the hair feel rough and tangled it more. I had to use the ‘moisturizing’ conditioner instead. I thought the ‘texturizing’ effect would be temporary, but perhaps it was actually permanent, and perhaps it changed the structure of the hair like a perm. I doubt it, but it’s one possible theory. I never had any permanent effects from a conditioner in the past, so I don’t think this is what happened.

4. The hair was tightly matted and always bent and tangled in the locks. As soon as the hair started to grow, it would have been forced into a bent, looped position, which could have ‘permed’ the structure of the hair, so that even now after I’ve unlocked it, it’s still trying to get back into the bent structure.

I braided my hair and I don’t want to unbraid it and rebraid it to show the fluffy texture of my hair, and since my camera has no batteries, and my phone has no more minutes, I can’t take a bunch of pictures, and the light is dim in this hotel room and not really good for pictures anyway. But you get the general idea – it is all neatly combed out and obviously has no more dreadlocks in it.

It is *EXTREMELY THIN*. I feel bald. I can touch my scalp directly, and I can see the scalp in between the hairs in some places, especially around the whorl, the part of the hair that forms a spiral, which you can see most easily in babies, the place where I get a cowlick, on the left back side of my part line. I’ve always had thin hair. But the dreadlocks gave me several inches of thick, matted hair, so that I could not touch the scalp. It feels completely different now.

My head looks really small. I’m aware of the Weston Price deformities of the skull. They affect the whole skull, so that your entire head does not grow as large and as round as it ought to, and your brain cannot grow and expand as much as it needs to. Your entire brain suffers from not being able to grow full size. My head is sort of tall and narrow and oval shaped. I’ve always felt that I didn’t develop as well as other people, for example, all the people from my high school who have ‘grown up’ and are living normal lives while I continue to struggle and do weird stuff and don’t have any children. Oh well, I’m still trying to fix that.

If I can set things up so that I’m able to have children and take good care of them, I will do *everything* in my power to prevent the deformities in my children. It’s not just nutrition, it’s also exposure to chemicals and drugs that causes the deformities. I will avoid all the chemicals that I can possibly avoid, and that even includes things like shampoo and conditioner. So I will find some safer alternative to shampoo while I am pregnant. And I will cook in the least toxic of cookware. I’ve already been observing my reactions to cookware – I don’t like cast iron pans, because they leach enough iron into the food to cause constipation. If they’re leaching that much iron into your food, and it’s getting into your intestines, then it’s getting into your body and poisoning you, and could be one of the many things that cause deformities in children born in modern societies instead of primitive hunter-gatherer cultures. I’m sure tobacco and caffeine and alcohol also cause the deformities, so I will stop caffeine during pregnancy too.

This is all just a general goal, and I can’t do it yet. I still need a way to provide for myself during pregnancy.

I have to start getting ready to check out of the hotel. I stayed here last night so I could take a shower and wash my hair. My hair was super greasy and full of lint and dust because of the dreadlocks, and I was in the tent, and it was raining and raining for days, so it was extremely hot and humid, and my whole body was covered with sweat and humidity, and dirt was sticking to the sweat on my skin, and I just felt horrible for days not being able to take a shower. I feel much more comfortable now.

So, now I’m moving on to other goals, now that I’ve completed the goal of combing my hair out. I understand how dreadlocks work now, and I could theoretically decide to grow them again in the future if I want to, and I’ll know what to do and what not to do, and can advise other people how to grow them too. I’m now the World’s Leading Expert on how to remove dreadlocks without cutting the hair. Everyone else shaves their head when they want to remove dreadlocks, but I removed mine and have my classic length hair intact. This is something to brag about, actually.

Oh well, on to other things. I’m visiting an apartment this afternoon. It’s close to Jesse’s house once again, which is very important to me. Jesse is doing okay working at McD overnight, but I’m pretty sure he’s taking some kind of psychiatric drugs, and he said he was going to try to get one of his prescriptions again, the one for ADHD. I still don’t know exactly which drugs he’s on, and I don’t know when he’s taking them or not taking them. I just see some symptoms of drug use.

I myself use drugs (caffeine) to help me continue to do my job. I want to redesign the world in such a way that people don’t need to use drugs to help them get through their day. If you need drugs, then the world is badly designed. The world should not be so stressful that you absolutely must take drugs in order to just barely scrape by in life.

This is why I want to create an intentional community. Your community must support your drug-free life. The entire community must be designed so that it is possible to live without drugs. The community makes it easier and more convenient to obtain healthy foods, and the community makes it extremely hard or impossible for you to go out and buy drugs, like alcohol and cigarettes, and makes it unnecessary for you to get prescription drugs, because the work you do is not stressful work and you don’t have to rush.

I can’t just command people to stop using drugs and start eating healthy foods, when the entire world is designed in such a way as to oppose both of those goals and make them extremely hard or impossible to live up to. The whole world must help you. It’s like that saying, ‘It takes a village to raise a child.’ I don’t really want to go around quoting that, but even so, it takes a community to make a person eat healthy foods and quit all their drugs. The entire community must make it easy to be healthy, and hard to be unhealthy.

ugh – this coworker won’t shut up

August 21, 2014

5:49 PM 8/21/2014

I’m on my lunch break at McD. Jesse comes in to work overnight tonight. I know he’s going to hate working overnights, but at least he’s going to get some hours. I can’t wait till he gets here. He’s coming in at 10. I’m sitting here in the break room and somebody is talking to me constantly. I don’t know her socionic type, but she and her sister are both extremely annoying and stupid, and I hate to say this, but they both might be SLEs. She talks constantly and totally ignores any sign that you’re not listening.

I combed my hair again this morning and made a lot of progress, but that’s because I bought a new type of comb that works much better than my old one. I wish I’d had this one the whole time. I’m really close to being done. There’s only a little bit of locked hair up on top. I tried to take a picture, but my camera battery died. I could still use my camera phone, though, I just didn’t have a chance to do that before work.

Now that I’ve combed out most of my hair, I’m frustrated because my hair cannot grow any longer. It’s been in dreadlocks all these years, and it’s still at classic length, hip length, because it’s genetically (or epigenetically?) programmed to grow for that long, then stop and fall out and start over. I could grow dreadlocks again and do them differently this time – I could maintain them, gently, so that they would not lock together into one massive lock all the way to the scalp. I’ll go a while without dreadlocks though, but if I did them again, I’d know exactly how to do them because I understand how they work now. I wouldn’t be ripping and cutting them the way other people do, to rip them apart when they lock together, because I want my hair undamaged. If I had been doing that all these years, my hair would be full of short, ripped-off pieces all the way down, and it would be even thinner at the ends than it already is, due to all the hairs being ripped off partway down. I’m glad I didn’t do that – that was the reason why I didn’t.

Well, I didn’t get to write as much as I wanted, due to the excessive talker sitting next to me. I’m just trying to get through this shift. And nobody is answering my ad on craigslist now, and ‘they’ are urging me to actually buy a house rather than renting. They’re saying I could learn how to buy and sell houses, learn how to rent them out to people and earn an income on them. I *could*, maybe, but I’m nervous about it. I don’t like researching all the laws and stuff. But I could.

I’ll just post this. I’ll take some pictures of my almost-unlocked hair when I get a chance. The other day Jesse saw me with my hair combed out, and he said, ‘You look normal!’

premature celebration

August 20, 2014

3:26 PM 8/20/2014

Argh. Okay, well, this particular arrangement didn’t work out. This apartment was two guys with one girl, and she tells me that the guys who are still there said they wouldn’t be comfortable living with someone they didn’t know. So they don’t want to take a new roommate. She says they met other people too and didn’t like them. Well, that’s just brilliant then. So I’ve reposted my ad.

The Room of Requirement: I want a room on Waupelani Drive that is less than $430. Voila!

August 20, 2014

9:16 AM 8/20/2014

I put up an ad asking for what I wanted, instead of trying to reply to other people’s ads, and I instantly got a response and got exactly what I wanted. Well, now I know! Don’t bother answering other people’s ads for apartments in the apartment complexes that I want to live in! I instantly got somebody who wanted to sublet her apartment in Nittany Gardens on Waupelani Drive for $390. So we’re emailing back and forth and she’s trying to get it settled on her end.

I like that area, I like that apartment complex, I like having the R bus go right by my house, I like the bike path, Orchard Park, the gardens behind the apartment, the quietness of the area, all the foreign people, being close to work, and most of all, being close to Jesse’s house. I will, once again, be within a few minutes’ walking distance of Jesse, if he wants to see me and doesn’t have gas in the car or something.

I don’t have a lot of time to write because I’m about to go to work. I’m in the hotel right now, but I didn’t have to stay here, I just wanted to. I worked on combing my hair again in the last couple days, and have made more progress getting through the top part of the dreadlocks. There are a couple areas where the hair is extremely wadded and tangled, which is different from the texture of normal dreadlocks. Healthy dreadlocks are not actually tangled into millions of loops. They have a regular pattern where the hair is actually very easy to comb out quickly if you find the pattern and just keep combing it that way over and over. It’s almost like pulling a string out of a knitted sweater, where you can just pull the string and the whole thing gradually comes undone.

But in a few places on my head, I have encountered big tangled balls that are different, and I have a couple of those left on top of my head. They may have resulted from my hair chafing against my hat at work, or from the hairbands that I always wear to keep the little wispy hairs out of my face at work. Whatever it was, some kind of ongoing process caused the hair at the top of both sides of my head to wad up into a giant ball on each side, and I’m slowly working around the edges of those and trying to reduce any hair that is easily combed around them first before I work on the tangles themselves.

I have been fantasizing about a project, which always means that ‘they’ want me to do something. Since I am less manic than before, since I have hardly any drug residues now and the only drug I have is caffeine, my projects are smaller and less crazy and less like ‘I’M GONNA SAVE THE WORLD!!!!’ kind of projects that resulted from mania.

The project they want me to do is a socionics project. I would build a database of people from the Delta quadra. I would need to constantly gather the names of people who had those four personality types: SLI, IEE, LSE, and EII. If I were constantly gathering these names and inputting them into my database, I would need a process for that, some kind of self-sustaining process that would never end, rather than making intermittent efforts and then abandoning it for long periods of time. The self-sustaining process would have to be something automated, like an ad somewhere.

I would put these people’s names and contact information into a database with the intention of eventually gathering enough people that we could start meeting each other in person and hanging out together. We would not be looking for common interests in the database, we would merely be looking for Delta personality types. People’s common interests would be left to work themselves out. This would be like a matchmaking group, except we’d be meeting as a group, not necessarily dating, and if people in the group liked each other they could get together, or not, but we’d have a group of people who are socionically more compatible.

I’ve been thinking of how much nicer our workplaces would be if we had all one quadra. I like the people at my workplace who aren’t in my quadra, but I am imagining what it would be like if a workplace were ‘pure’ and reflected the values of my quadra.

I’m going to have to cut this short. The idea is to help Deltas find each other for dating and for socializing and also for business projects together, and it would begin with a database.

I cannot take action yet

August 16, 2014

10:31 AM 8/16/2014

I’m sitting in the tent right now. I can’t really do anything. I haven’t quite adjusted to living in this location, in a tent, in this particular patch of woods. There are businesses nearby, places where I could go to eat, and yet I still just avoid eating instead of leaving the tent. I mostly just rest and sleep a lot. I desperately needed more sleep. I’m still using caffeine.

I’m waiting until after I work today, and then I’ll be off work, sort of. I told TB that I would work Monday. There’s a reason for that.

Jesse worked the other day at McD. I forget which day it was. It was the second day of my TB, which would have been Thursday. Jesse knew he was scheduled to go in at 6am, and he asked if I would be there. Sadly, I said no I would not. I was going there later in the afternoon. He really wanted me to be there. He didn’t know if it was going to be okay or awful. I told him I would try to be there around 9:00 am, because I was working late the night before, so I wouldn’t want to get up that early in the morning.

I agreed to do this, to try to come in, but I could not bring myself to actually ask the manager if I could help out. I just sat in the lobby instead, and used the wifi, while Jesse was there working, for a while. I had to ask the manager at TB the night before if I could take the next day off, because someone had asked me to be somewhere and I wanted to try to be there. She said yes, and I said maybe I could work some other day later that week to make up for it, and we said Monday, but I don’t remember exactly what time on Monday, and actually, I don’t really care much if I don’t work there on Monday. I just called them and asked for the manager who had told me this, but she wasn’t there, and they said she would be out for three days, which means I can’t ask her what time she had said I was supposed to be there.

So on Thursday morning, I sat in the lobby while Jesse worked at McD, for a while. When he was on lunch break he came out to sit with me. He was very manic. I know he’s using psychiatric drugs, I just don’t know which ones. Because of our compatible personality types, his mania is tolerable to me, but I feel like I myself am a ‘downer’ to him – I feel like I might be boring him. He had so much energy it seemed like he constantly needed to be doing something, talking to someone. I love him and I want him to have a job that he feels comfortable doing, and it seemed good that they put him on headset taking orders and making drinks and handing out food in the Present booth. That would have kept him very busy multitasking, which is exactly the reason why I myself cannot do that particular position very well. That particular position happens to be my weakest area.

He was so manic that he was talking to random customers. I felt nervous and embarrassed that he was doing this. For me personally, it was fine, but I was nervous because I thought other people wouldn’t like it. He was asking people questions like, how was their coffee, because he himself had made the coffee and given it to them, and he even remembered which person had asked for Splenda in their coffee. He asked another lady to rate the service she had experienced from 1 to 10, and she said it was a 9. I was always amazed if these people even answered him at all – they often looked at him distrustingly, like, ‘Are you talking to ME?’ He was sitting at a booth with me, while these were people sitting several yards away from us at other tables, and he was talking loudly to them while they were far away. This was too long of a distance for conversation, except he was loud enough to be heard everywhere.

Again, this doesn’t bother *me* so much, but those suspicious looks on their faces made me very nervous. I don’t want him to get fired or reprimanded, and I don’t want anyone to dislike him or disapprove of him.

He is an IEE (ENFP), very extraverted and very manic, on drugs, and the result is this behavior of talking loudly and constantly, making jokes, saying things that are sort of inappropriate, and talking to large numbers of random strangers. It’s all wonderful to me except I just have this feeling that he is in danger, somehow, if he does this, and I want him to keep his job. I just know that this particular world, this particular place, disvalues that behavior, and he could be attacked or punished somehow, or frowned upon.

Peng came over and talked to us while we sat at the booth. She was on break too, at the same time. She’s from Thailand. Jesse asked her where she was from. He asked her how to say ‘You are awesome’ in her language, and then she said it, and he repeated it. Then he said something else, and she said, ‘That’s Japanese,’ and I said, ‘You already know Japanese?’ He knows little fragments and phrases from many different languages, just from sheer curiosity. He can converse with people in Russian, maybe not fluently, but enough to get coherent responses. He did it once before when we were walking past some construction workers who were all speaking Russian together – he called something up to them in Russian, and they said something back to him, and I started laughing. (It’s Dory the fish saying, ‘Yes I can speak Whale!’)

So then he said ‘You are awesome’ in Thai (or whatever it was) again, and he said, ‘I could be even more racist, and squint my eyes when I say it!’ To me, that’s not really ‘racist,’ that’s just his way of imitating the whole thing, the whole persona, getting into the role, actually *being* Asian by squinting his eyes to imitate everything and feel it from the inside, to be Asian. That’s fine with me, and doesn’t seem like he’s being racist, but other people might think he’s making fun of them. However, other people at McD make fun of or imitate Peng’s accent – Brent the manager walks past her and loudly shouts, ‘SKYOOO MEEE!’ (Excuse me!). Several other people imitate her accent while talking to her, and one guy almost made me laugh out loud, because they were talking about rivers, and she can’t say the letter R, so she was saying ‘livers,’ and he was saying ‘livers’ back to her, and then he talked to me afterwards and said something about ‘those livers,’ and I was confused.

I was afraid to ask if I could come in and help out. I couldn’t explain why. Brett the store manager was there. I could have asked him, ‘Hey, do you guys want any extra help over lunch for a couple hours?’ But it wasn’t horribly busy, just moderately, and they didn’t seem to be distressed. And it would have been out of character for me to offer to help. Jesse had actually wanted me to come in and work when I wasn’t scheduled. Working in the store with him at the same time is the most joyful, wonderful experience, knowing that he’s there, talking to him, walking past him, helping him, teaching him, hearing his reactions to things that I take for granted, watching him socialize with all the people I know and then hearing his reactions to those people – all of it is wonderful, and I really wanted to come in and work.

But I wouldn’t have ever done that. I wouldn’t have ever come in and offered to work – I usually avoid coming in when I’m not scheduled. Several people know that Jesse and I are close – Peng came up to us sitting in the booth together, side by side on the same bench on the same side of the table instead of across from each other, so that we could be physically close and touching each other. Peng said, ‘So you two are good friends?’ and I awkwardly looked down at the table and nodded my head. Many other people know that Jesse and I are texting each other and communicating frequently and that I’m the main force advocating for him to work here and get on the schedule. They know we have a connection.

But I don’t want to draw too much attention to it, at the same time, because I just have this feeling that it’s dangerous. Workplaces do not value personal relationships, and in fact they often actively attack them and punish them. I just know this from general norms and past experience. The store manager is a Gamma ILI (INTP). Another manager is an SEE (ESFP), and another is an LSI (ISTJ). There are a couple more managers who are LSEs who might tolerate my relationship a little bit – they’re female and they will probably be fond of Jesse. I’m a bit wary of the reactions of the non-Delta managers. I just *feel* or sense somehow that they would not approve of this, and that they would be somehow punishing us in an indirect way.

This is not just paranoia. I know another guy at TB who experienced something similar. I can’t figure out exactly what type he is, probably because he’s on antidepressants that cause him to blurt stuff out that he might not otherwise be blurting out. I like him, and he makes me laugh a lot, and we’ve had some good conversations. He seems to like the Gammas the most, or the suspected Gammas. He loves the two ESI girls (ISFJ), and he also loves a girl who I suspected might be an LIE (ENTJ), but I didn’t spend enough time with her to be sure. He also loves a girl in the family of female LSEs from McD, and the entire family was LSEs, all of the children – I’ve worked with two of the girls and the one guy, and all were LSEs, so the girl who he was in love with might have been an LSE too. So he might also be a Delta.

One time, he said out loud at a meeting that he really preferred to close the store with one of the ESI girls. He complained afterwards that, after he had said that publicly at the meeting, his schedule was set up for a couple weeks afterwards so that he *never* closed with that particular person again for a very long time. They do not like it if you have personal preferences for people and personal
relationships, and they will find subtle or not-so-subtle or obvious ways to punish you for expressing personal preferences.

‘The voices’ were asking me what exactly I was afraid might happen if I had asked to come in and work that day. It’s very hard to explain, and I might not be able to really verbalize it. But it went something like this. They might put two and two together and realize that I was asking to come in and work just because Jesse was there, and for no other reason, because we love working together and want to spend as much time together as possible.

Would the world suddenly end if they knew that? No…. but yet, something is dangerous about that. They might know that I want to protect him. I want to be there in case anything happens. If anything happens, I will intervene. I don’t know what kind of thing would happen, but my job is to protect Jesse, while simultaneously balancing my other relationships and my connection to this job, so that I don’t cut off other people and don’t lose my source of income.

I also need to protect Jesse’s job, to make sure he doesn’t lose it, to do everything in my power to make sure that he’s able to do his job, able to show up for work on time, that he’s avoiding jobs he hates such as washing dishes for hours and hours (especially with our horrifically bad dish sink, with no hot water and no water pressure and no room to pile stuff up!) – I want to make sure he doesn’t go crazy here from doing jobs he hates for too long. He must only work during the busiest hours, when the store is packed with people and super-busy, when he can talk to hundreds of customers and dozens of coworkers, when he can constantly interact with people and never stop moving and never stop talking. If he stands around being bored, bad things might happen. I don’t want him to have too much time just standing around doing nothing or cleaning.

Jesse doesn’t really understand the idea of ‘availability’ and ‘flexible scheduling’ yet. This is the key to quality of life. McD (oh, I’m inserting paragraphs in between paragraphs and going off on a gigantic tangent – so, after this paragraph is over, it will suddenly change back to the previous topic) has flexible scheduling, which is one of the reasons why it’s often been listed as a great place to work – Fortune 500 or somebody listed it as one of the top 100 companies to work for, at some point in the past. Some workplaces say, ‘You work morning shift one day, afternoon the next, overnight the next, and so on,’ and they tell you that you absolutely must work that schedule and you have no choice. It was that way when I worked at Uni-Mart. They told me that I would work *their* schedule, or, death. I could not customize my schedule. I could not say ‘I’m not available for mornings or overnights.’ This means you cannot work a second job around the first job, and your only option is to demand that they let you work more than 40 hours, which many or most employers refuse to allow, because the *stupid law* requires them to give you overtime pay. So you are stuck in an inflexible schedule working only 40 hours and no more than 40 hours, with no ability to get a second job. This is impossible! You cannot schedule a second job alongside a constantly changing, constantly rotating shift of mornings,
afternoons, and overnights!

But at McD, they are flexible, and you can even go to such extremes as, ‘I can only work two evenings a week for four hours between the hours of 4 and 8,’ and they will do their best to make that happen. I mean, there’s a minimum number of hours, and it might be 8 or something. I forget. They will at least try to give you that schedule, although they won’t really be happy about it. So, it is possible to limit your availability and then work at a second job where you are also allowed to restrict your availability. I work in the mornings at one job, evenings at the next job. It can be done.

If you customize your availability, you can avoid working shifts that you hate. Jesse doesn’t know yet which shifts he hates the most, but I can guarantee you that if it involves hours and hours of boredom and cleaning and dishwashing, he’s going to hate it, which means no overnights. Maybe later. Maybe when he’s more comfortable and confident here, he can do overnights. But I don’t recommend it right now. He should work the busiest and most enjoyable shifts.

You can also customize your availability so that you’re not available on specific days of the week, which means you can have a few days off at the same time from both jobs, which is what I always do. I always have Sundays, Mondays, and Tuesdays off from both jobs right now. I picked Sundays because I was trying to occasionally go to Jesse’s church (I haven’t been there in a long time though).

So I am often asking Jesse how he feels about working this or that particular shift, these hours of the day – are you awake enough, do you feel okay, is it hard to get out of bed that early in the morning, are you going to crash that late in the evening, and so on. He takes drugs, and so his moods are going to go up and down at various times of day. He can’t just push a magic button and stay perfectly happy and energetic all day long for 24 hours a day, but yet, he sort of doesn’t seem to know this, and he seems to overextend himself or promise things that he can’t deliver, without really knowing in advance that he’s going to hate it and it’s going to make him go insane or be horribly exhausted and dead. It’s perfectly legitimate to say, ‘I am not a morning person, and it’s very hard for me to get up at 4am so that I can drive a couple hours over the mountains and go to a job that starts at 6am and ends at 4pm.’ Jesse had to try that. He worked at a planing mill in a faraway town, and did that very thing for several weeks, and worked 10 hour days, and yes, he made millions of dollars doing this, but it killed his body and his spirit, and he could not sustain it, and quit the job. I’m guessing all the other people working there are meth users, or something – that’s a typical situation where people use hardcore stimulant drugs just to stay alive and get to their job every day. The job was very demanding hard physical labor, and he told me that everybody else was drinking coffee and soda all day long. I imagine they probably all used tobacco too.

Back to the previous topic…

They might learn that there are reasons why I want to protect him. He’s on drugs and he’s manic and very unstable. I wish with all my heart that he would follow the Breggin protocols and withdraw from all of his meds. But he doesn’t agree with me that meds are the root of all evil – ‘I know you believe that drugs are the devil, but…’ he said, and he told me that he hadn’t been having as many problems since they changed his drugs recently, not hearing so many voices – when he hears voices, he blatantly and openly talks to them out loud as though another person is standing in the room next to him, whereas when I hear voices, I only talk to them inside my head with subvocal speech.

They might punish him or push him out or make life difficult for him in indirect ways, if they know he has this vulnerability, if they know he has a ‘mental illness,’ quote unquote, if they know he’s on drugs and he’s unstable, if he has any kind of incidents or bizarre behavior or if he says anything offensive or blurts out something he’s not supposed to say. They might cut his hours. They might talk about him behind his back.

But it’s more than just that – it’s *our relationship* that I don’t want to draw too much attention to. It’s not merely that I don’t want them to know he has a weakness and that I’m trying to protect him as discreetly as possible. I realize everyone will know, before long – it’s inevitable, and I’m not making an effort to hide it. Yes, we are together. I’m 39 and he’s 19. Yes, we are having sex, although nowhere near as often as I would like, since he mostly refuses to let me visit him unless he has a job, has money, has gas in his car, and feels financially secure – he absolutely will not allow me to put gas in his car, even though I’ve offered several times – I would actually pay money to visit him and be with him – I would pay for everything, I’d buy the gas and the food if we went out to eat, I’d pay for his movie ticket if we went to a movie – but he won’t let me – and the result is that I simply don’t ever get to be with him at all, which is not a good thing. He cannot make himself perfect prior to spending time with me, or we will be waiting forever and ever, because he will never be perfect. He won’t even take a walk down the street with me during periods when he’s unemployed, even though taking a walk down the sidewalk or to the park or down the bike path doesn’t cost any money. He just refuses to be anywhere near me if he doesn’t have a job! It’s extremely frustrating.

It’s possible that he’s being partly controlled by ‘them,’ too, because ‘they’ often say things to me about this, about our
relationship, about money. They might be the reason why he cannot see me when he has no money. They might be giving him a delusional belief that he has to pay for me, or something. We can just take a walk somewhere and enjoy each other’s company for a while! But no. He has often expressed a fear that I will get pregnant and then demand child support from him, which is an understandable fear. I’m not going to do that, but he doesn’t know me well enough.

Anyway, I’m still trying to explain what it is that I’m afraid will happen if they are threatened by my relationship with him. He really seemed to be doing very well on the day when he was taking orders on the headset. He was learning quickly, it seemed. I can’t verify that he was doing everything right, that he was making all the drinks correctly and so on, but at a superficial glance he was doing very well, very quickly. He won’t be a worthless employee. He could be someone they will need and rely on and value. They could be glad to have him working. So they won’t want to just cut his hours merely because I have a relationship with him and want to work at the same time he does.

But… still… I cannot just throw it in their faces. I already had an incident with the LSI manager who makes the schedule. I had mentioned him by name to Jesse, and when Jesse met him and talked to him, he said ‘Nicole told me all about you,’ or something, and the reaction was suspicion and distrust – ‘Really? What did she say about me?’ and he said, ‘She likes you,’ which is true – I am actually very fond of him – it’s that quasi-identical relationship where you have a fondness for each other, but are too restricted in your ability to express it in the workplace. You could express it if you were in a very safe and trusting environment, but not in a stressful place. I use Model B in socionics, and I see a quasi-identical relationship as one where people are attracted to each other. I’ve talked about this previously in my blog so I won’t explain the whole thing again. Anyway, I had just mentioned him to Jesse as someone to kind of watch out for, because they are socionic conflictors, and I said they would probably rub each other the wrong way. I already know it’s going to happen.

Also, I’m becoming sure of Ann’s daughter’s type. Ann the IEE has a daughter. She’s divorced from the father. I don’t know the father’s type. Her daughter is now working for McD, and I’ve spent some time getting to know her. We all went out on a sort of group date at a restaurant, several weeks ago. Steve (EII/INFJ) had called me on the phone the night before – he was probably urged or forced to call me at that particular moment – he seems to be getting used as a puppet and is sent to do various tasks at various times. I ‘spontaneously’ (was urged) to invite him to come to the restaurant with us the next day. So he came along with me, Ann, and Ann’s daughter.

I had told Ann about socionics. Ann had complained that she really doesn’t like it when her daughter is at home with her. Her daughter had been away, maybe at school or something, I forget. I don’t remember if she’s going to college yet or not. But Ann says she is under a lot of stress and very unhappy because he daughter is in the house. It’s some kind of relationship where they don’t really get along. Her daughter will say things like, ‘My mom is evil. I was all ready to leave 45 minutes early, but she had to keep changing clothes and deciding what to wear, and we ended up being late.’

‘They’ suggested to me at first that her daughter was Ann’s
conflictor, an LSI/ISTJ. I met her, and started to gradually type her. I wondered if she was an IEE, an EIE, or maybe an LSE. I don’t think she’s an LSI. I ‘tried that on,’ but she’s too intuitive. She says things that are different and unexpected and funny. She’s not like any other LSIs I know. I sort of like her, and she sort of likes me too, but I also feel a bit anxious around her.

One time, I saw her ‘needling’ her mother. Her mother used that word to describe what her daughter does, and I saw it when it was happening. Ann was digging around through a pile of stuff in the closet, trying to find a particular box with a particular size of uniforms in it, and she was struggling to move things around, look at the boxes, pile stuff up, and move stuff out of the way, and it was a messy and frustrating process. Her daughter stood watching, standing beside her as Ann crouched on the floor, and she began the ‘needling’ that Ann had described. ‘Do you want some help? Do you want some help? Do you want some help?’ She said this over and over while Ann ignored her and wouldn’t answer. Her daughter kept trying to get an answer, while her mother kept stubbornly ignoring her, and her daughter just kept saying the same thing over and over again. I could just *feel* Ann’s anger building up. Her daughter was also angry and frustrated, watching this process of digging through a big pile of boxes looking for something. I knew immediately that this was the ‘needling’ Ann had mentioned. That is not a good relationship. I knew it was socionics, but I still wasn’t completely sure of her daughter’s type.

They both describe each other as ‘evil.’ Her daughter had described Ann using the word ‘evil,’ and Ann herself had also said in an ominous, supernatural way, almost in a whisper, ‘SHE’S EVIL! They’re going to have to watch out for her on overnights!’ But in reality, her daughter is doing fine on overnights and doesn’t seem to be doing anything evil.

I had suspected EIE, just as a gut feeling. She strongly reminded me of another girl who was a much more obvious, and much more annoying, EIE, who had been dating another McD employee who I had thought was SLE, but who ‘they,’ the voices, typed as LSI. Her way of talking, her facial expressions, her vocal timbre is the same whiny tone, the exact same kind of whine, just not as extreme. I’m sorry for using the negative word ‘whiny,’ but that is how I perceive it. God only knows how she perceives *me*, and I’m sure I don’t want to know! The voices were talking to me, and they used the word ‘passive aggressive’ to describe me – I think they were referring to me, but I’m not sure. Maybe they were referring to her.

However, she had also reminded me of another girl who I thought was an IEE. I still don’t know that other girl’s type for sure. She was temporarily dating a SLI, and she and I got along pretty well and felt comfortable together, but she was on a lot of drugs too.

Last night, the ‘every trivial little thing we do’ conflicts were starting to happen. Ann’s daughter and I were working together, and I just had this feeling, anytime I said something, that it was somehow the wrong response, the wrong thing to say, the wrong emotion. I started to feel strained. We had an incident where both of us were walking towards the computer at the same time, because we both had headsets on and were about to try to take the order. She said she would get it, but I couldn’t really hear her very well and wasn’t sure what she said, so I walked up to the computer and took the order. ‘That works too,’ she said, which was kind of funny and sarcastic. I apologized afterwards and said that I hadn’t heard her, but that didn’t make it better, it actually somehow made it worse. Then I took the money at the window, while she took the next order, and then both of us tried to walk away at the same time, because we weren’t sure who would stand there and continue taking orders. It was just constant awkwardness and miscommunication, and every time I apologized it got worse. It was trivial, nothing really. That’s probably a conflictor!

Neither of us were deliberately being mean to each other, it was just tiny little trivial misunderstandings and the wrong things being said, in ways that we couldn’t really explain, even though neither of us were really being outright mean to each other.

So I’m becoming more sure of the EIE typing for Ann’s daughter, which would explain why Ann says she’s so miserable when her daughter is in the house, and so happy when she’s away. I’m still not clear on whether she’s going to college or not, I just know there have been times when her daughter was out of the house and Ann was very glad of it, and now that she’s home again Ann is very strained.

If she’s an EIE, she should be working at TB! They’d love her over there. TB is a totally Beta-dominated culture, which is why I hate that job so much and refuse to work more than just a few short days a week.

There’s another SLI at McD, very intelligent, who also briefly worked at a different TB store, and he described it exactly the same way – they talked down to him like he was a stupid child, he said. He totally understood me whenever we talked about the phenomenon of not being allowed to dump fresh lettuce into the same container that had old lettuce in it. At TB, they will *HAVE A STROKE* if you, *HEAVEN FORBID*, YOU ***DARE*** to pour out some fresh lettuce into a container on the table that has a little bit of old lettuce left in it, because, yeah, it’s true, over time the lettuce will get older and older and it will eventually have spoiled lettuce underneath – but not in a 24 hour time period when we remove all the trays and dump them every day! At McD, we’re also not supposed to keep dumping new lettuce on top of old lettuce, and yeah, this makes sense to me, and I keep an eye on it, but I use my own judgment – I can see if the lettuce looks old and wilted, and I have a vague idea of how long I’ve been dumping lettuce in there, and I sort of try to pull out the old stuff and put it on top, but there might be a few flakes of old lettuce left over in the bottom – but we’re not doing this
INDEFINITELY for weeks and weeks until the old lettuce on the bottom is brown and rotten, and even if we did that, we would *see* that the lettuce is old and brown! We dump them out every day. We only worry about the ‘fresh pan every time’ thing if the upper level managers are in the store standing over us judging everything we do with their insane and unrealistic views of reality.

We get the general idea: don’t keep dumping new stuff on top of old forever and ever until the old stuff turns brown and makes someone sick. I eat that food all the time, and it doesn’t make me sick! We use our senses, we use our judgment, we’re aware of what we’re doing, and nobody gets sick. We don’t have to strictly follow an insane and inconvenient time-wasting procedure rigidly every single time with zero exceptions. Even in the middle of the busiest rush at TB, if the orders on the screen have been there for fifteen minutes, if people are waiting and waiting for their food, if I’m working with either of the Beta IEIs and they’re under stress and irritated, they will become *even more* rigid about following these rules and wasting even more time – that’s the exact moment when they will nag me not to do something like pour fresh lettuce on top of old, at the very moment when that is the best thing to do because we’re in a hurry and we’re only doing it this one time – *NO EXCEPTIONS TO THE RULES! EVER! NO MATTER HOW LONG CUSTOMERS ARE WAITING IN LINE!*

Back off the tangent… I’m in my tent, I’ve had caffeine, I haven’t eaten breakfast, and that’s the time when I become very annoyed and I write for too long, a huge angry rant about how I hate this or that. Sorry for ranting… I don’t hate my job at TB as much as it sounds.

I want to have a second job, and I was grateful that they hired me, because I felt vulerable – I had been homeless during that time, and I also had lost my previous job at Weis Market a couple years ago, and I don’t like to write down on my job application about how I kind of quit, and kind of got fired, and it was for strange reasons, sort of an illness I was having, and I don’t like having to explain all the reasons why I lost my last job. So I was grateful that TB hired me and was willing to take the risk on me. I do feel much more secure having a second job and having control over my schedule.

I should finish this up because my battery is going to die soon. I’ll need to eat before work.

I’ll need to look for an apartment again. But I don’t know whether the hackers/mind controllers will allow anybody to answer my emails. It’s very hard to hunt for an apartment when I don’t know whether my actions will have any result or not. If I take actions and they don’t work because the mind controllers and hackers are opposing me, that demotivates me and makes me want to not even try to take actions at all. They want me to do a particular thing, and it has to be the particular thing that they want me to do, and they’re making some kind of arrangement for where I will live and how much it will cost, and they’re not letting me just take anything – the voices called it ‘tough love.’ I’m not really happy about it. I just don’t know what they’re planning for the future, and they won’t tell me. I can’t know whether they will allow me to get an apartment AT ALL, or whether I am required to buy a house or something, or whether I’m required to live in a tent and then build a squatter house – I don’t know what they want, because mind controllers and attackers never tell their victims what they want or why they’re doing what they’re doing. This is pretty much universal to all the victims who write on the internet – they have to *guess* what the attackers are doing and why. I just don’t know whether it’s even worth it at all to make any effort to find another apartment at all, if their goal is to force me to buy a house instead! I don’t want to spend hours and weeks hunting for an apartment only to have every single email blocked because they don’t want me renting someplace anymore or paying more than a particular amount of money, while I myself might have been willing to risk that amount of money.

I have mixed feelings about what they are doing – I tried to get one particular apartment last time I was looking, and something confusing happened where that email stopped working because the person rewrote the ad and reposted it, and I couldn’t contact them anymore, and I ‘ended up’ taking the $280 a month curtained living room apartment that didn’t have a real door. And I loved that place, actually, except for the lack of privacy and the fact that my roommates were noisy and I couldn’t sleep. ‘They’ arranged for me to go there, they scripted some events where I rode my bike down a particular bike path to there, before I knew where it was, and I was happy riding down this bike path. They made me feel happy there, or perhaps they merely briefly stopped torturing me so that I was capable of feeling happy on my own, whichever way, so I associated happiness with that particular bike path.

And it all turned out to be because it was close to Jesse’s house, within walking distance, which was wonderful. I loved being close to him. I loved knowing that he could walk a couple of minutes across the grass, down the paths, and get to my room anytime even if he had no gas in his car. I didn’t know where Jesse lived, at the time. I knew vaguely that he was probably in that general area somewhere, because he worked at TB on that side of town, and his parents came into McD after church every Sunday. And his church is in that area too. It’s all together. But after I moved into the Waupelani Chinese house I found out just how close to me he really was. I moved into that apartment, not knowing in advance that it was right near Jesse.

So that’s why I have ‘mixed feelings.’ I don’t approve of what they are doing. I believe mind control is evil. I believe their methods are evil. But sometimes the consequences are turning out to be kind of okay. However, I still believe you should not do this evil thing even if sometimes it gets good results. I believe people should be allowed to get bad results and make mistakes. Mistakes should be allowed. Bad choices should be allowed. I know I am happier when my brain isn’t being zapped every couple seconds with some kind of distracting, torturing frequency that destroys my willpower, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, even if that constant torture is preventing me from sometimes renting an apartment that’s too far away and too expensive. Yeah, sure, I wouldn’t have been in the perfect location, and it wouldn’t have been the perfect price, but I want to be free, and the 24 hours of freedom and happiness and full functioning of my brain and body makes it all worthwhile, so that an imperfect life situation is tolerable. I can tolerate a bad life situation if my brain is free to think and feel without being interrupted, and I can muster up the will and take the necessary actions to fix the situation if my brain is working.

My battery really is getting down low now. And I should eat somewhere. I’m just not quite ready to get up. I’ll probably push it until the battery reaches the very end.

So anyway, I’m finding that I’m demotivated and unable to take action right now. I don’t know whether I should focus my energy on hunting for an apartment, or whether I should make the greatest effort to do the last little bit of my decon first. My decon will never be perfect as long as I am surrounded by other puppets and victims who are using drugs. I will always touch things they have touched, or we will be forced into situations where we touch each other directly. I live in a contaminated world, not in an intentional community full of people who swear never to use any drugs at all and who have already completed all their own decontaminations. Jesse and Steve are both
contaminated, and so is my parents’ house. I absolutely will not stop seeing Jesse. I only see Steve if they force him to call me or force him to come looking for me unexpectedly. I haven’t been to my parents’ house in a while, but if I go, I ought to wear clothing that I don’t mind getting rid of, and I certainly would not want to wear my special tanned animal furs. Yes, I’m really planning to wear animal furs in the future. I cannot wear them anywhere that’s contaminated or they will be ruined forever.

I’m off for the next couple days, and I wasn’t able to reach the manager who rescheduled me to come in on Monday at TB, which wasn’t really necessary anyway, so I might even end up just not showing up and no one will even care or notice. I was just trying to make a deal with her while asking her if I could have the day off on Thursday (to go to McD with Jesse), because I was suddenly asking her this without warning on Wednesday night with no time in advance. I didn’t really want to switch a shift and work some other day. I just wanted to offer something to help in exchange for a favor she was doing by letting me off on Thursday morning.

But I am not secure in this tent here. I am anxious. I feel that someone will soon walk in and find it or see it and make me leave. This place is close to some grass that will eventually be mowed, and the person on the mower could see my tent. It’s not camouflaged very well, and you can see it from that position. The leaves will fall off the trees, and that’s going to happen VERY SOON. It’s the middle of August. I have hardly any time at all before the leaves fall off. There are bushes surrounding me. The pine trees won’t be enough to block the view. I feel that I need to find someplace else to go, very soon. So I can’t just relax and chill and settle in here the way I could on Mt. Nittany. I was almost totally safe there. The only people who ever walked by the tent were some occasional deer hunters and a few random people, and that hardly ever happened.

I’m shutting down the computer. Maybe I’ll call Jesse or text him.

Toxic synthetic insulin sweat is on my shirt – I don’t blame him though

August 14, 2014

5:00 PM 8/14/2014

I’m in the tent now, and I’m about to leave for work in about half an hour. I like to be able to walk over there slowly without rushing, then get dressed slowly and not be late for work. I just drank a cup of coffee, so I might want to write a bunch of stuff but won’t really have time.

Jesse worked today, and it wasn’t intolerable, so he’s not going to quit right away. He told me he would go back again and he said he liked it. Jesse is unstable because of his medications, so he might quit suddenly even though he doesn’t really want to quit, even if he has no other job. If he has any kind of drug-related incident, he might have to call off sick, or he might have to leave work suddenly in the middle of a shift. Any of these things could happen. I know what the drugs are doing to him. He’s been changing his meds recently, and he told me he’s taking a longer-acting drug.

A short-acting drug wears off sometime during the day, so you go into withdrawal, causing massive ups and downs every day. A longer acting drug slowly wears off, but it still is causing some withdrawal, and I’m still noticing Jesse has ‘downs’ every evening at bedtime, it seems. It also kind of scares me to think of a substance that your liver isn’t able to break down easily, so it keeps circulating in the body for a long time – that very idea seems bad – the idea of a drug so ‘unbreakable’ that it just keeps lingering in your body for days or weeks doesn’t seem like a good idea, but it won’t cause as many withdrawal crashes.

I’m in sort of a despair phase right now. I’m kind of secure in the tent, but not really, not for long. It’s in a *tiny* patch of trees, and in only a few weeks, the leaves will start to fall off the trees, and it will be barely any time at all, and the time will fly by, and when that happens, I’ll have to hide my tent much better, or move again, and moving all my belongings is a huge pain.

My sleeping bag said it’s good down to zero degrees. That is laughable. I think they forgot to put the ‘6’ in front of the zero. I was slightly chilly in my sleeping bag last night. I don’t know what temperature it went down to, but this is August and it certainly wasn’t below 40. It might have reached the 50s, maybe. The sleeping bag was a little bit wet. I need at least one more sleeping bag to put inside of it to stay warm in the night. However, after a few hours, it warmed up in my tent. I kept the window mostly closed. The heat gradually builds up if the wind isn’t blowing too much outside.

I haven’t quit caffeine, and in fact I bought another new bottle of instant coffee and a bag of sugar. That feels like a failure – I’ve wanted to try again to quit coffee for so long. I was drinking milk for that reason. The milk caused some problems for me. I kept on drinking just a little bit of coffee, and I also drank a bunch of Coke recently because of the stress of moving out of the hotel and trying to remove a few more contaminated belongings.

There is one nice thing about this most recent decon – I really don’t have anything on my shoes now. I don’t have anything on the soil around this tent. I have a little bit of residues on my clothing. I wasn’t able to finish it before leaving the hotel. I would have done the clothing too. The amount of residues is very small and is not causing many symptoms; however, when I quit caffeine completely, I notice even the slightest bit of residues. Since I haven’t quit caffeine, I haven’t been able to really test my stuff accurately.

I’m working tonight and tomorrow and Saturday. I can’t really do any other projects while working. I desperately want to do some laundry, but I can’t. I have to wait. I don’t have a washer. It was so nice having a washer in the apartment. I didn’t have one at the hotel, unless I wanted to spend money to have them do my laundry for me. I saw a list of the prices for each item. It was on a piece of paper on a hanger in the closet. I hadn’t ever noticed it before, but suddenly saw it on, like, my last day there, and didn’t really have time to consider it.

I have one problem: my McD work uniform is now contaminated with poison, and here is the story behind that. My store manager Brett is someone I’ve known for many years, since I first began at McD. He got hired around the same time I did, in 2004 or 2005, whenever it was. We both worked at the Nittany Mall store. The store was much nicer back when it was owned by a franchisee. I wish someone still owned it, but now we’re owned by the Corporation instead. The franchisee sold us back.

I knew Brett was diabetic, type I. Peter was also a type I diabetic. I was with Peter for many years. Peter also worked at the Nittany Mall store, for a while, overnight. He would sometimes have low blood sugar attacks at work, and was famous for making people call the ambulance every once in a while. This was most likely caused by his other medications, which caused low sugar as a side effect, but he always got blamed for his low blood sugar.

Brett, for some reason, never seemed to have those crashes. He’s younger, and he might also not be taking as many other meds. He used to have an insulin pump, like Peter did, a little thing that connects into the skin and gives you a tiny drop of insulin all the time (note: I need some other name for the so-called ‘insulin’ they are being given. All insulin is not the same. It could more accurately be called: “A toxic synthetic poison which has a few properties that are similar enough to insulin that it causes some insulin-like effects inside the body, along with hundreds of other extremely toxic and deadly side effects.” It is a horribly toxic synthetic poison, and I believe it is responsible for all the organ damage associated with diabetes, rather than the disease itself being responsible for organ damage. So it is inaccurate to call it ‘Insulin.’ It would be just as accurate to call it ‘Hippopotamus’ or some other random word.) I didn’t know that Brett had stopped using an insulin pump and was now just giving himself shots nowadays.

So the other day, Brett was working with us. I was in the back booth taking orders. I was running around to various places, and I happened to look over and see Brett doing something weird. He was holding the fish filet basket, which had come out of the fryer and had a few filets in it. He was trying to hang the basket up on the hook behind the fryer, where you put it to let the oil drip off before you put the fish into the tray. He was trying to hang up the filet basket, but it wasn’t over top of the filet fryer anymore, it was over top of a chicken fryer, and we don’t mix fish with chicken. It was abnormal to ever hang the filet basket over top of a chicken fryer.

When I glanced over and saw him doing this, he was sort of slowly, repetitively struggling to hang up the basket on the hook, and looking into the darkness under the hood of the fryer as though he was trying to see exactly where the hook was, or trying to look at something on the back wall of the fryer. It was a little weird, but I thought he was trying to fix something that wasn’t working. So I just went on with what I was doing.

A few minutes later, I went by and saw him doing something weird again. This time, he was holding a towel in his hand and was sort of wiping the bar along the edge of the fryer transfer tray, the tray you dump McNuggets and stuff into. Normally, we would never just use a towel to wipe the edge of the tray. That tray goes back to the dish sink and gets washed there. We only wipe the tables with towels. So it was weird to see him doing something like wiping a towel along the edge of the metal tray that normally just gets used and ignored and thrown back in the sink. We were in the middle of a busy rush, making food, and it was not the time to be standing around wiping things clean with a towel. He was moving very slowly and was sort of hunched over the transfer tray in a weird position, moving very slowly and rigidly.

I took the next order on the headset, and then I went over to look at Brett. He was still standing there doing that, holding onto the edge of the transfer tray with a towel in his hand as though he was wiping it, hunched over and barely moving. His whole head was *drenched* with sweat. Fortunately I knew exactly what was wrong, because of my years of experience with Peter, and because I knew Brett was also a diabetic who used insulin. I’ve known Brett for years and have had a few conversations with him about his diabetes. So I knew immediately. But other people didn’t know. Later on another girl said she had noticed that his hands were shaking really badly and she didn’t understand what was wrong.

So I abandoned what I was doing, and I stood there and began talking to him. He was still able to talk, and he answered my questions, but he wasn’t making sense or responding appropriately. He kept saying, ‘Oh no, no, I’m okay! I’m fine!’ even though he obviously was not fine. He kept saying, ‘I just needed to move… over to the right…’ I thought later on that maybe he needed to move over to the right because the fish filet fryer was over to the right, and he had moved to the left and was hanging it over top of a chicken fryer instead – that was my translation for what he kept saying. ‘I just needed to move to the right a little bit. I’m fine! No, really, I’m okay! There’s nothing wrong with me.’

My instinct was to physically hold him up, because he was slowly crouching down and would fall to the floor. I don’t have time to finish the story now, but another girl, Anna, a manager, who also has known Brett for many years along with me, saw me over there propping him up to keep him from falling, and she came over and I told her he was having an insulin reaction. She was smart enough to go get him some orange juice. I didn’t even think of orange juice, because Peter always refused food or drink when he had a reaction, and he would sometimes vomit when he had a reaction. He *never* would let me put any food or liquid in his mouth at all. So I just didn’t even think of feeding him. I thought I had to disconnect the insulin pump. So I was patting his stomach looking for the pump connection but not finding it, until Anna told me he took shots instead.

Anna also thought to call his girlfriend Joelle, who somehow drove to the store very quickly. Brett perked up after the orange juice kicked in, and slowly started talking more coherently again. I’m cutting off the story because I have to leave, but basically, Brett’s sweat was full of toxic, poisonous fake insulin, which is now ALL OVER MY WORK UNIFORM. Every time I put that uniform on, I start having weird feelings. There is a *lot* of insulin in that sweat on my uniform. It desperately needs to be washed, but I can’t do it yet, I have to wait. I was holding him up, physically propping him up and standing behind him and physically comforting him and talking to him and touching him. That would be an awkward thing in our relationship, because we don’t touch each other, but it was an emergency, and I know that an emergency is the right time to touch people.

I never saw this happen to Brett before in all the time I knew him.

I have to go to work now.

He’s working right now.

August 14, 2014

I told him I’d come in in the morning and I’d ask if they wanted any extra help this morning. He’s working. I think he’s taking orders in the drive-thru. He has a headset on and I heard him talking. He’s up front in the Present booth.

Yesterday I got together with Ann the IEE and we ganged up on the store manager and asked him if he could get us a schedule for Jesse, so he told me Jesse could come in 6am to 2pm today. And he’s here. He wasn’t happy at all about getting up in the morning.

McD can pay millions to those OTHER worthless retards, but not even minimum wage to my boyfriend

August 13, 2014

3:12 PM 8/13/2014

So, lately I’ve been imagining, for the past year maybe, a sort of communism where I’m the dictator. If I did it, I know it would be done right. I’ve been thinking, the main purpose of a business should be charity. Its goal is to provide subsistence to the largest possible number of people. It would give them a pittance: a house to live in – a tiny house or tiny room in a lodge shared with a group of other people – a monastery-like environment with the bare minimum of amenities, as cheap as possible; it would guarantee they had enough food, and not junk food or starvation food – not just beans and rice, but food that meets *my* criteria of nutrition: grass-fed meats, organic vegetables, and so on.

So, food would be a big expense, but money is no object in that area. Feeding people extremely nourishing food and guaranteeing that they get it, making it for them, providing it for them, making sure it’s always available and convenient at this group home so that it’s the first thing they reach for, and they have no access to junk food – their diet is completely controlled and forced to be a healthy diet. They will eat animal fats and other ‘forbidden, unhealthy’ things that most people restrict in their diets, people who then break down when they have a craving for ice cream, and that kind of thing – you get ice cream cravings because you *actually need* saturated animal fat in your diet, not because you’re a greedy glutton who has no
self-control. So I’d require them to eat a nourishing diet that satisfied their natural ‘cravings’ (real needs), and they would be unable to obtain any other foods, because, maybe, they’d have no money for food or something, but would instead receive food directly as barter.

You provide this pittance, this home and food and minimal non-fancy basic clothing, to meet people’s minimal needs. They would not have to work very hard to get this. Nobody would have to get up at the crack of dawn and slave away until their bodies died of exhaustion. The work effort would be moderate, and you could do it without using stimulants like caffeine and tobacco. If you have to use stimulant drugs or other drugs in order to function in life and do your job, then that job is immoral and should not exist, and you are not getting paid enough, and their expectations of you are immoral: they should never require people to do such hard work that they must use drugs to do the work. The purpose of a business is to provide people with a healthy life, meeting their minimal needs, sparing no expense on nutrition, but not giving them extra junk like expensive TV sets. They wouldn’t have high level managers being paid $200,000 a year to be morons.

Oh yeah, that’s where this rant came from. I was going to say: McD has enough ‘charity’ to support those RETARDS who designed our cash register system, they have enough ‘charity’ to pay millions of dollars to those computer system designers and to the people who designed and built our store, with all its equipment that doesn’t work – just today, the motion-sensor lights in the bathroom stopped working, and they’ve been working intermittently for a week and nobody has fixed them – why can’t we just have normal lights? Because we’re saving energy. Motion lights turn off when nobody’s in the room. But these motion lights stopped working, and no one cares. Who cares – we’re saving EVEN MORE money now that the motion sensor lights have stopped working! Now they NEVER TURN ON AT ALL! MONEY SAVINGS GALORE!

So we have the dim little lights in the one section of the bathroom which are always on, but you can’t see anything when you’re in the stalls. I had to change into my uniform in there, and I was worried that I would have loose hairs on my clothing that I couldn’t see. Loose hairs on my uniform translates to extremely dissatisfied customers finding hair in their food. I use a lint roller, but it helps greatly if I can see. I can’t use a lint roller in the dark. I had to use the lint roller back in the break room instead, but I don’t like to use it there, because it’s embarrassing, sort of sexual, to run a lint roller up and down my body when people are nearby who might walk in and see me doing that. I try to do all that grooming in the bathroom, not the break room. Today I discovered, after the lights were finally turned on, that there was a splash of vomit on the floor, which nobody could see, and splashes of vomit around the inside edge of the toilet as well. Vomit needs to be cleaned as soon as possible because vomit viruses evaporate from it, and of course, there is no working vent in the bathroom, because the retarded germ-phobic bathroom designers, with all their automated faucets, automated hand dryers, and automated toilet flushers, have no understanding of the real causes of illness from the bathroom: virus particles inhaled from somebody else’s vomit, which continue floating around the room. I’ve had dozens and dozens of experiences of going into the bathroom after somebody vomited, smelling it, and then shortly afterwards becoming sick myself.

Anyway, the retards with no quality control who made our computer systems and who designed and built our non-functioning buildings and our non-functioning brand new equipment, all the machines that didn’t work (Note: I’m not saying these are the SAME retards, just a different group of retards), are getting paid tens of thousands more dollars than I am, while I could do all those things better than they can. They’re happy millionaires now, living in their mansions while I slave away on a near-minimum wage.

So, McD hiring those retards was definitely an act of charity. They are getting money that they absolutely do not deserve, at all. Meanwhile, they can’t even hire my boyfriend. He tried to get hired here. He went to his orientation. Then they kept jerking him around – every time he tried to get his schedule, they would tell him they couldn’t find it or something, and I tried to get it too. They must have just decided they changed their mind about hiring him, or didn’t like him, or something, but can’t bring themselves to say this directly to me or him.

So they can’t even hire someone they dislike as an act of ‘charity,’ even, when those utterly worthless and incompetent retards get paid millions of dollars to make our cash register system that is so ridiculously badly designed I can’t even begin to describe it in 10,000 words or less, or our store where all the equipment doesn’t work and the lights don’t turn on and the Coke machine keeps breaking and everything. THOSE retards are DEFINITELY an act of charity, of someone providing them with an ultra-luxurious lifestyle while they are worthless and incompetent, and their total incompetence ruins the enjoyment of the workplace for EVERYBODY ELSE, and we all have to suffer from it, we all suffer from their horrible cash registers and their horrible nonfunctioning equipment and badly designed buildings – customers complain constantly – people are always saying they refuse to use the hand dryers in the bathroom because it’s this horribly loud screaming noise like a jet engine – customers hate our new store, they hate everything about it, just like I do – BUT WHO CARES WHAT THE CUSTOMERS HATE – We’re a big fat huge monopoly with infinite money, and we don’t HAVE to waste a second of our time worrying about what people actually WANT anymore! We can just hire retards who are our FRIENDS to do a HORRIBLE job at whatever they do, and we pay them MILLIONS to do it, but you can’t even hire MY BOYFRIEND – if you think he’s not good enough or something, you’re saying those other people ARE good enough to get paid millions of dollars by McD??? You think he’s not good enough, but those software designers ARE? The people who made our menu, where parts of the menu disappear and can’t be seen, so that you have to wait several minutes for it to reappear so that you can find the dollar menu – must’ve been a real GENIUS who thought of THAT!

But you don’t even think my boyfriend is good enough to work here? If you like hiring incompetent retards who can’t program a computer, then you should be JUMPING FOR JOY to find somebody else who you believe is incompetent to do a job! You should be saying, ‘Yippeeeee!! Another incompetent retard just applied for a job here! Now we can pay someone millions of dollars to screw things up and force everyone else to live with it!’ If you think he’s incompetent, and you can’t even put up with him long enough to teach him how to make food or how to type things into the computer – and you can’t even pay him MINIMUM WAGE to do that for A FEW HOURS A WEEK AT LEAST!

Do I even need to work here anymore? This morning, ‘the voices’ were asking me if I might be ready to start working temp jobs again. I might, if I had transportation to the jobs. I could do bookkeeping.

And by the way no, I am not saying that Jesse is incompetent or retarded. I’m saying THOSE OTHER PEOPLE DEFINITELY ARE, and they get paid millions of dollars by McD. Jesse is perfectly capable of learning to do this job if someone trains him to do it and has faith that he is capable of learning. I know for certain he is capable of doing this job. He is not incompetent. Maybe somebody doesn’t like him for one reason or another, but he is able to do this job. I don’t know what they think, I don’t know if they judged him as incompetent, I don’t know if they just disliked his personality or what, I don’t know their thought process, but they’ve jerked him around and the schedule never materialized. They said he would be scheduled, then it didn’t happen when he and I both tried several times to get it. His schedule just didn’t happen, but nobody will say outright that they decided against hiring him. BUT THOSE RETARDS DESIGNING OUR COMPUTER SYSTEM, OUR NON-FUNCTIONING EQUIPMENT AND ALL THE COMPUTER PROGRAMS RUNNING IT, OUR NON-FUNCTIONING MOTION DETECTOR LIGHTS, OUR HOT WATER THAT WASN’T SET TO THE RIGHT TEMPERATURE SO IT SCALDED PEOPLE USING THE AUTOMATED FAUCET, BUT NOW THEY TURNED IT DOWN SO LOW THAT WE CAN’T USE HOT WATER FOR WASHING DISHES AND WE’RE FORBIDDEN TO TURN IT UP, WHEN THE AUTOMATED SINK ITSELF HAS A LITTLE SCREW UNDER IT SO YOU CAN ADJUST THE TEMPERATURE, AND I KNOW BECAUSE I LOOKED! I looked under the sink. YOU ADJUST THE TEMPERATURE *THERE*. You do not just turn the hot water heater down to 110 degrees. The heater is at 110, but if you test the temperature (NOBODY WILL BOTHER TO TEST THE
TEMPERATURE AND GET THIS FIXED!) at all the faucets, it’s about 100 or 101 degrees, barely above body temperature.

I just read an article online about a woman selling hot food from a boat. The health department shut her down because she didn’t have hot running water in the boat. But McD has no hot water, but the health department never comes here and shuts US down for not having hot water! All the employees hate doing dishes because we have 1. no hot water, 2. a water-saving sprayer with no pressure, so it just gently sprinkles lukewarm water over greasy dishes which have all this residue left on them afterwards, 3. the new sink in our new store is SMALLER THAN THE OLD SINK, and we have NO PLACE TO PUT OUR DISHES, so all our dishes are always lying on the floor in piles! We need shelves! We need racks! We need drawers! We got ONE SHELF, where everything falls off the edges of the shelf and goes on the floor and probably falls down into the open drain holes, which are DIRECTLY BELOW the shelf with the dishes! Drawers would be good because nothing would fall out of them! If I had a car, I’d buy drawers myself at Wal-Mart with my own money! We need fucking plastic drawers, lots of them, big enough to hold all the dishes! We need hot water, and we need WATER PRESSURE so that dishes can be sprayed off! But we’re ‘SAVING MONEY!’ with less water! Oh yeah? You think we save money paying someone minimum wage to spend HOURS AND HOURS ineffectively washing dishes with a gentle trickle of lukewarm water because you have to do so much more spraying and scrubbing for so much longer? WAKE THE FUCK UP!

I could do temp jobs. I could take a little break from McD. I could take a hiatus. I could cut my hours down to a minimum and stay here, or I could even leave completely and not deal with it at all. I just love all the people here – they’re like my family. I don’t want to leave them. But I HATE this place in so many ways now. I hate our equipment, I hate the overpaid computer designers and building designers and equipment manufacturers who decided to give us this – HORRIBLE new store that all the customers hate, because some genius decided that the best way to make money was to give people what they HATE! and don’t want and didn’t ask for! Those morons get paid millions of dollars, while they won’t even give my boyfriend a chance to work at MINIMUM WAGE with people who might, possibly, be kind enough and patient enough to actually train him and have faith in him and give him a chance to learn how to do his job. And if he felt comfortable here, he might actually do well! Maybe he wouldn’t be so bad if he had a chance to keep working here for a while! But no, they won’t hire him. They were evasive and dishonest about it, saying he was on the schedule when he wasn’t. Nobody could bear to tell me or him outright that they changed their mind about hiring him. And you know what, they could fucking hire him anyway even if he got paid to just stand around chitchatting and doing nothing useful, because even then, he’d be doing LESS HARM than the retards forcing us to use this computer system and this equipment and this horrible new building! He’d at least be entertaining the other employees even if he did absolutely nothing but stand there and get paid. But they won’t hire him. And I don’t think he would merely stand there, either – he would learn how to do his job, over time, if SOMEBODY TRAINED HIM.

I saw him lose his job at TB and now I’m seeing him not getting hired at McD and I’m sick of this. I want him to enjoy his job. I want him to do some kind of useful work and be valued and respected by other people. I want him to enjoy what he’s doing and have what he needs to survive.

I am envisioning a business as a charity. Its goal is to make sure you have everything you need, but just the minimal basics, although food would be expensive.

Uh-oh, my battery will die soon. I’ll post this. I am VERY annoyed about Jesse getting brushed off.

It always rains when you’re moving out. I learned that in college.

August 12, 2014

10:19 AM 8/12/2014

I’ve been up since very early this morning – I was awakened at 4am, and I actually got up and started working at 5am. I’ve been setting up the tent and moving stuff into it. I had to leave the hotel because people booked the room in advance for Ag Progress Days. And actually I should leave the hotel anyway, to spend less money. However, it’s easier to do a decon when you have a room where you can take a shower. It’s much harder to actually do a decon in the tent.

I’m just resting before the next phase. I threw away a lot of stuff, but I still seem to have a lot of bags that have to be moved out and carried to the tent. The tent is not in a great location, and I probably won’t feel comfortable staying there for a long time, but I just needed to find something quickly. So I still have half a dozen bags or so and a few miscellaneous objects and piles that are on the floor here that have to be moved.

I’m not really happy about camping, but I am trying to find an apartment. I can try to find something in the location and price range that I want, if I am able to wait a few weeks in a tent.

living outdoors made me happy

August 11, 2014

12:50 PM 8/11/2014

I am conflicted about moving into an apartment. Today, I’m sorting through my belongings and continuing to throw things away. I’m reducing the amount of stuff that I’ll have to move with me if I sleep in a tent for a few days or if I move into an apartment immediately, either way. I’ll have fewer heavy bags to carry, and I’ll reduce the amount of contamination also – every little bit counts – just keep on radiating optimism and positive attitudes, forever and ever, with endless energy, like the kid on the sidewalk asking for donations for pediatric cancer research – as annoying as he was, as bitter as he made me feel, I could not forget his hopeful, innocent, sincere, optimistic tone. So today I’m saying, ‘Every little bit counts,’ with regard to my decontamination. Every decon makes a difference. It’s true, it’s just extremely expensive and is taking forever.

I took a walk outside behind the hotel after I put some stuff in the dumpster. It’s not raining today, not yet anyway. There is a creek right behind here. I think I’ve seen medium-sized trout in it occasionally, but I didn’t see any today, just little minnows. Perhaps I should read Lewis and Clarks’ book about exploring America. I’ve read quotes and references to that book, and it was really interesting. People who came here when the natives were here found giant trees that were hundreds of years old (then they chopped them down and sold the wood – bitterness), and giant fish in the rivers, old fish that had lived a long time, fish that were as long as a man’s arm.

Now we have pollution, pesticides, fertilizers in the rivers, sewage, pharmaceuticals, and other chemicals and germs that kill the fish, and we also have dams that block their movements or change the pathways of the water, and we have bare open spaces without any trees so that the sun shines on the water and it’s too warm for some fish to live there. Many things have destroyed the rivers and streams. In the ‘positive attitudes’ theme, I could say: there are other people who feel the same way about this that I do. I like environmentalists, as long as they tolerate meat eating and the hunting of wild animals, which I believe is essential for human life. I could find these like-minded people and do things with them. I don’t believe in just letting wild animals live for their own sake, while humans eat nothing but plants. I believe humans benefit from large, thriving herds of wild roaming animals eating healthy wild food from wherever they want to wander, because then those animals are healthier for us to eat when we hunt them. They do exist for their own sake, and I want them to have happy lives, but I also want to eat them (and I haven’t eaten much of a breakfast today, so I might obsess about eating animals today).

I walked around and looked in this creek. I looked at bushes with berries on them, bushes that I could not identify, and I wondered if any of them were edible. I’ve read about some native berries that are edible, but never got a chance to go out and look for them. I’ve just heard people say once in a while, ‘I have a serviceberry bush in my backyard,’ and that kind of thing, but I never went and had a look at it.

Now is the time of year when I get the urge to put up an ad saying, ‘Do you have apple trees in your backyard? Walnuts? etc… I want your apples/walnuts/whatever…’ something to that effect. So I’d have people all over town gathering their fallen apples and walnuts, even the sour apples that were too disgusting to eat. I’d use those apples somehow. Perhaps I could make vinegar. Vinegar is very useful. I’d gather all the fruits and nuts and store them for the winter. But if I don’t do that, people ignore their apple trees, and I see that the trees are full and the apples are falling on the ground and everyone just leaves them there. This frustrates me greatly. Maybe they expect all apples to be sweet like the ones in the grocery store, and they don’t understand that sour bitter hard apples have useful purposes as well.

Walking around by the creek, I felt really *happy*. I love the air, I love the birds chirping, I love the plants, I love the humidity, the flowers, the leaves, the moist earth, even the annoying midges diving into my eyeballs and getting killed when I blink and rub my eyes and squash them (how in the world did primitive people stop THAT from happening?).

I felt so happy walking by the creek. I was looking around for a nice place to camp. I don’t know *exactly* where I will go, but I have a few ideas. I’ll have to camp for sure tomorrow, unless I can immediately move into my new apartment this instant, which is unlikely. I’m probably going to have to camp for several days or a week at least. I really enjoy the process of wandering around an area, looking at the environment and looking for a safe, hidden, secret little place to hide my tent where no one can see me. For some reason, that process feels very natural to me, very real. It feels like a useful skill to have. All animals have to do this. Just going outside and doing that, that little search, that wandering over a territory looking for my hiding place, made me feel better.

Moving into an apartment is not the same at all. I’m moving into an established house which already exists. I have no control over the design of the house. For instance, I’m being charged a huge amount of money for a house which is way bigger than I need it to be. One single bedroom of an apartment is usually big enough for an entire little cottage to fit inside, almost. The whole cottage, the place where you sleep, the kitchen where you cook, all of it into a room the size of one bedroom. But all they have in there is the bed, and then they have all these extra huge rooms where you’re expected to put giant couches, and then the kitchen, and then other people’s rooms, and so on. I’m getting charged extra money for all that.

Why do they do that? Sometimes it’s the law. The laws REQUIRE builders to make gigantic, extra-large rooms with tons of wasted space, to comply with fire codes and building codes and stuff like that. I don’t know all the details, but I have a feeling that’s what it is. And you’re not allowed to make special arrangements if those laws don’t apply to you. You might have an individual door in every room so that occupants can always run out the door if there’s a fire, but you’ll still be required to make everything huge and you’re forbidden to have more than X number of people living in the same house.

Suppose you had a house where everybody was forbidden to have things that were flammable. Suppose you strip-searched everyone who walked into the apartment and made sure nobody was carrying any hidden matches or lighters. You could make everyone use battery-powered flashlights, and don’t put any electrical wiring into the walls, because electrical things can sometimes cause fires. The cooking area would be in a completely separate building, so that any
cooking-related fires would not spread to the place where you lived. You could do everything in your power to prevent any fires from starting in the building where people lived and slept, and yet the laws would still require you to build gigantic rooms, gigantic doors, gigantic hallways, extra rooms you don’t need, and then have a maximum number of people allowed inside that building. They just don’t care that you’re doing everything in your power to make it impossible to start a fire in that building. No exceptions to the laws, EVER, for any reason under any circumstances.

Anyway, so I feel very differently about the idea of moving into an apartment, versus moving back to the outdoors again. The only reason I could not develop my house, when I lived in the woods before, was because of the contaminated soil (long story, it resulted from my contaminated belongings touching the soil by accident). If I had been safe there, then I would have done other things, like made a place for cooking and storing food, dug holes in the ground, and other more permanent things. I would have found water to use for drinking and bathing. I would have made it a better place to live. I still look forward to doing that in the future, going into the wilderness and making my own place to live somewhere. This isn’t an urge that will just go away. I’ve felt that urge since I was a very young child. It’s my instinct.

Oh well, I’m going to get back to sorting my belongings and preparing to move out.

Every little bit counts

August 10, 2014

3:14 PM 8/10/2014

I’m on my way to Wal-Mart to get some camping equipment. Now I need it urgently. I forgot about big events going on in town – Ag Progress Days. The hotel is booked on Tuesday and Wednesday. So, I have to get out. I’m there tonight and Monday night. I just didn’t book far enough in advance, and it would have been more expensive on those nights anyway.

I’m still going to try to get an apartment, but I’ll camp while I wait for one. I tried answering another ad today. Tomorrow I’ll call somebody on the phone, but they’re not open today. I hate that when I’m trying to do something or run an errand and it’s always on the day when something is closed.

The fruits are ripening again. There’s a word that I can’t remember. It’s similar to ‘blooming,’ except with fruit. Growing, appearing, ripening, something. Fruiting? The fruits are fruiting. I’ve seen apples and walnuts and pears. As always, I wish I had a place to store them all. After the decon, I will.

The only reason why I haven’t been able to acquire tools, property, infrastructure, or personal belongings of any kind all these past years is because of the decon. I’ve had to get rid of everything. I can tolerate some low levels of other drug residues, but not ephedra. If I get recontaminated with a tiny bit of something from someone else or somewhere else, it won’t be as bad as the ephedra. I don’t want to, but it will inevitably happen because I am still in contact with society, still shopping and buying things in stores, still riding the bus and walking through town.

So, in the future, I will have a place to store the apples and walnuts of late summer and autumn. I know the pawpaws are ripe too. Peaking? That’s another word – fruits at the peak of ripeness. The trees are ripe with fruit – that is one way of saying it. I’m just trying to remember how it’s said.

In the future I’ll have a lot of things I don’t have now. It doesn’t matter if it’s even something so simple as a rock for smashing fruits on so that I can dry them in the woods. Even simple things like that, I would not do when I lived on the mountain. The soil was
contaminated all around my tent because of the ephedra-covered objects that touched the ground there. I’ll be someplace without that, someplace where it’s okay to touch the soil and put things on the ground and not constantly throw away everything to get rid of the residues.

The things I want are strange things. I want fur. I was aware of this when I went to the powwow with Steve. They sold a lot of preserved animal furs. I don’t know what methods or chemicals they used, but I want chemical-free natural furs. I’d have to actually watch the person performing the tanning process to verify that they really, absolutely did not use any chemicals, because I can imagine an untrustworthy person saying, ‘Yeah, I don’t use any chemicals,’ and then using whatever they want while I’m not looking, just to make a sale. Or I’d make it myself, I just can’t do all these things for the first time simultaneously when I’ve never done any of those things before. I need to learn the skills and test things until I can get them to work.

I wouldn’t buy furs when I was still contaminated. Furs are too precious to keep throwing in the garbage when they get contaminated. I don’t like to waste any animal products. The one bad thing about furs is that I will constantly be covered with itch mites, probably. I got bird mites very badly from rescuing that baby bird. The bird mites were invisible, microscopic. The ones I could see crawling on the baby bird were macroscopic – I could see them with the naked eye. The ones that persisted on me, for months afterwards, were invisible. They got into my bed and my clothing. They’re gradually getting better, because I’m no longer on that bed and I’m getting rid of my clothing. You have to wash the clothes a lot and take showers every day.

I had very severe mites many years ago and couldn’t get rid of them, and poisoned my whole apartment with pesticides, thereby poisoning myself. They were coming from several sources – from a stray cat who had mange at my ex-boyfriend’s house, and also from the ducks at the duckpond. I’d feel the mites crawling up my ankles every time I walked on the path by the pond. The ducks sat there miserably, constantly pecking and preening and digging into their feathers to pick out the mites. It was obvious they had something. The way to get rid of mites is to move out of the place that has them, get rid of the bed, or wrap the bed completely in plastic and don’t take it off. It doesn’t work to try to suffocate mites by wrapping them in plastic for several months – they don’t die. Either they’re getting air somehow, maybe through tiny pores, or maybe they go into hibernation and don’t need air. Maybe they’re like tardigrades, which can survive anything anywhere under any conditions, magically. Scientists are testing tardigrades in harsh environments, like outer space, to see how they survive.

I need to get my money out so I can catch the bus.


Oh god. I have to be tortured by this for the next fifteen minutes. I’m sitting in town at the bus stop, and there is a group of people nearby shouting about pediatric cancer research. They’re shouting the same mantras over and over. ‘Every little bit counts! Everybody matters! Save a life today! Donate now! Pediatric cancer research!’ They’re dressed in some kind of weird costumes, I can’t figure out what, jumping up and down, waving their arms, whooping and hollering.

I refused the lemonade. A girl approached me on the sidewalk and asked if I would like some free lemonade, and I said, no thank you. I don’t want to donate to cancer. ‘Cancer research’ does not work. Cancer can be prevented if you stop spraying herbicides on the fields, stop vaccinating people, stop prescribing birth control pills that cause cancer, and other things. I don’t believe in the whole, ‘Whoops, I lived a really toxic life and got poisoned by everything and everyone and now I’ve got cancer. Do something!’

Okay, I got on an earlier bus that goes through the same route, so I didn’t have to keep hearing them, and they stopped anyway. One of the shouting voices was a young boy who was young enough that I originally thought he was a girl, when I only heard his voice and didn’t see him. This is, obviously, because of ‘pediatric cancer.’

The whole thing was very +Fe in socionics. Very Beta. I disagree with the whole approach. I cannot force myself to feel positive and hopeful about making a donation to cure cancer, when cancer has been around for years and years and years, with trillions of dollars thrown at it, and no cure yet, and if anyone independently finds a cure without permission, they get murdered and all their research destroyed and suppressed and what not. I think it’s probably possible to make an arrangement with the medical mafia to give someone a ‘bad vaccine.’ ‘Hey, Mr. Enemy is coming into my office today for a vaccination. Why don’t you get me one of the “special” vaccines, heh heh heh…’ I’m guessing that’s how they destroyed Harry Browne, who was very successfully running for president as a libertarian before he suddenly and mysteriously got ALS or whatever, Lou Gehrig’s disease, out of nowhere when he had been perfectly healthy, and he ended up in a wheelchair very quickly and then died. I’m sure he was murdered by a deliberate bad vaccination. ‘Hey, Harry – why don’t you stop in for a “flu” shot today?’

The only way to cure cancer is to prevent yourself from getting it in the first place, which you can only do if you have knowledge. Cancer might go away on its own, if you stop poisoning yourself with whatever was causing the cancer, such as birth control pills. I don’t remember what causes cancer in children, other than vaccines, but I’m sure there are many things that do. I just can’t get all happy and hopeful, like this innocent utopian kid shouting on the sidewalk ‘Every little bit counts! Everybody matters!’ over and over again. Yeah, we’re gonna cure cancer TODAY, and this time it’ll be different than the tens of millions of other times we’ve tried to cure it. You can’t cure something that the medical mafia and the government don’t want anybody to cure.

Sure, donate your money so that you’ll have less of it that you could have used to maybe actually help someone with cancer. You might have been foolishly planning to rescue a neighbor kid down the street from you by paying for their cancer treatments or something, but you decided instead to toss the money at some organization to help faraway invisible anonymous children with cancer at some distant point in the future, maybe, possibly. That’s preferable to actually helping a neighbor kid that you can actually see with your own eyes and doing something to make their life better in a direct, physical, material way. Or you could have used the money to put up television ads about what causes cancer, and thereby educated people so that they could prevent it. But now you’re money’s gone, safely in the hands of people who will do absolutely nothing.


I went shopping at Wal-Mart, and I got camping equipment, just a few things. I have enough that I could camp for a few days, but I’d need to get miscellaneous things after being there for a while. I can camp long enough to wait for an opening at an apartment where I want to live.

I have a couple places nearby where I can camp temporarily, but I won’t feel as secure as I did on the mountain. If I’m only there a short time, and if I don’t keep anything there that I’m not willing to lose, then it’s okay for a few days. I don’t know how long I will have to be there. I probably won’t want to be stealth camping after the leaves fall off the trees. I’ll have a camo net on the tent, but even so, I can’t keep it on at all times, unless I make a more elaborate setup. You can’t really breathe through it even though it’s mesh.

I feel somewhat relieved now that I have this camping equipment. I know that I can rush out the door and go somewhere temporarily while I’m unable to stay in the hotel during Ag Progress Days. I know I’ll be able to temporarily stay somewhere for free so I don’t completely destroy all the money I have, so that I’ll be able to afford the deposit on an apartment.

I have to finish the decon, so that I don’t need to do a hundred more decons. The residues get thinner and thinner with each decon, but I should have been able to do this completely, years ago. I feel sort of like I felt with the utopian boy shouting his +Fe on the sidewalk: We can do it! Every little bit counts! No matter how many decons you have to do, you’re gonna win in the end! Just keep Fe-ing and Fe-ing and Fe-ing, endlessly, like the kid shouting for the passersby, the same emotion, the same faith, loudly, the mantra, the same emotion of hope and excitement and motivation. For me, this hope-shouting has become very bitter over time. Yes, there is hope. Yes, every little bit counts. It’s true. It just is taking so, so horribly long. If I weren’t trying to hurry for a reason, time wouldn’t matter so much, but every day of my life wasted is another wasted opportunity to have a baby before I go into menopause. I do not want to lose that opportunity.

So, once again: Every bit counts! Decontamination matters! It can be done! We will succeed!

a complaint about business strategies, which I don’t have time to explain

August 8, 2014

10:27 AM 8/8/2014

I don’t have enough time to write this, because I’m just about to run out the door to go to work. But here it is.

Yesterday I watched an informational video thingy (not really a video, just something on the computer) about what TB is going to do next. They go through these phases where they sell some items and stop selling other items.

I won’t use the specific phrase, but they’re doing something soon that has to do with ‘cravings.’ I had a strong reaction to this. Yes, ‘cravings’ expresses the essence of TB’s business strategy, and it is the very thing about their business strategy that I do not like.

I wish I had more time to go into detail about this. I’m in too much of a hurry.

Basically, to make a long story short, if you have cravings, then something is wrong. You shouldn’t keep craving stuff. If you are craving things all the time, that means you’re a pot smoker, and it is common knowledge amongst everyone I talk to that TB is the place where people go when they’re stoned. This is not something to encourage, and it is not a good business niche to be associated with.

People go to McD when they are ACTUALLY HUNGRY and want something that has enough calories in it that it will actually satisfy their hunger. People go to TB, on the other hand, when they ‘have a craving’ and are willing to eat weird, disgusting things, anything at all, random stuff, and lots of it, because they’re stoned. It won’t satisfy their hunger, and they don’t expect it to and they’re too stoned to care whether it does or not, and they’re going to buy a dozen other foods a couple minutes from now.

Darn it, I have to run out the door. I’m just trying to say: you should try to satisfy people’s HUNGER with high-calorie, high-fat foods, so that they will feel full enough that they don’t need to order a hundred items that have hardly any calories in them. Merely keeping a food item below some particular arbitrary calorie number does not make that food ‘healthy,’ and it’s common sense, known to everyone, that people respond to those foods by ordering a hundred of them instead of eating just one! Everyone knows this! You’re not fooling anyone!

But, if I recall, the ‘cravings’ were ‘beefy, cheesy, spicy,’ and a couple other things that I can’t remember right now. Some of those things are genuine needs that have to be met, for example, the need for saturated fat, but ‘greasy’ wasn’t available in the list of craving choices. A spicy craving can mean that you need magnesium – supposedly, spicy foods might contain more magnesium – I’d need to go look that up to verify it – or you might be using it for intestinal parasites, or because you’re sick. I get spicy cravings after I’ve been sick at my stomach.

I haven’t had time to really explain what I’m trying to say, but it’s too late and I’ve got to go. Later… Basically, cravings are bad, you shouldn’t focus on cravings but on meeting real needs, cravings aren’t enough, that’s too narrow and too weak, something…. especially for breakfast!

I proved once again: Trandermally excreted, transdermally absorbed metabolites of drugs in clothing cause chronic symptoms after quitting a drug

August 7, 2014

I verified once again for the thousandth time that if you take particular drugs even one time even at a tiny dosage, your skin excretes the partially metabolized drugs into your clothing, and the next time you wear the clothing, the drug residues go back through your skin, causing symptoms again.

I don’t notice this with all drugs. I use ibuprofen when I’m on my period, but I don’t notice any effects of ibuprofen persisting in my clothing. Then again, I’ve never done a really rigorous test with ibuprofen.

But I did a rigorous test with St. John’s Wort just now. The other day when I took only one tiny nibble of one single petal of the plant, I was wearing a brand new black shirt that I had just opened from the package. I wasn’t touching the shirt with my hands after handling the plant. I barely touched the plant except with my fingertips, which I wiped on the ground afterwards.

Yesterday, I wore that black shirt again under my work uniform, and I was tired and slow all day – chronic fatigue, like what I had when I took sjw in the past and when my whole home was full of its residues.

This morning, I had taken a shower and felt fine. But then I put on the black shirt, and immediately started to feel this sensation of worsening fatigue and tiredness and slowness, this horrible deadening slowness making me want to lie down and sleep and not go to work.

When you take particular drugs, the drugs come out of your whole body, everywhere, through skin oils and sweat. This oil and sweat gets into your clothing. St. John’s Wort can also be absorbed through your skin, like many other drugs (such as tobacco and probably marijuana). So when this stuff gets on your clothes and you put the clothes on, it goes right back through your skin, causing chronic, low-level, mild but annoying symptoms which can actually be life-ruining if you never figure out what’s going on. I was lucky enough to figure out what was happening, and getting rid of my clothing fixed the problems.

But I proved, once again, that even one single use of an extremely low dose of a drug will cause this phenomenon.

I haven’t done that sort of a test with the sjw pills in bottles yet. I don’t know how much of what constituents are still in the pills, because the plant is dried before it’s put into the pills.

This phenomenon can also cause chronic obesity (weight gain!) lasting for years after you take an antidepressant. Peter Breggin mentions this, but he doesn’t know what causes it or how it works, whereas I know. All you have to do to get rid of chronic obesity triggered by antidepressant use is get rid of your clothing and belongings, including furniture and car seats. You have to pretty much get rid of everything you own if this is happening to you. I did it because of ephedra residues, which were absolutely intolerable and life ruining, but it works for many other drug residues as well.

I have to go to work now. I changed into a different shirt. I don’t want to feel exhausted all day!

I did get rid of the bike today

August 5, 2014

1:12 PM 8/5/2014

I got rid of my bike just a few minutes ago. Now I temporarily have no bike, but I’m really close to everything at this hotel, so it won’t be a problem until I move somewhere. I’ll get one before then. I took the bike to the bicycle shop in town, the one where I’ve bought bikes in the past, the one I gave away another used bike to, and I dropped it off there.

Yesterday I didn’t get the bike errand done because my coworker invited me out for coffee to say goodbye, because she and her future husband are moving back to Missouri where she came from. We planned this a couple days in advance, so it wasn’t a surprise, but even so, I could not bring myself to run any errands knowing that I would be going somewhere and doing something later in the day. It was fun to ride in the car and go drink coffee someplace where I haven’t been before. The first place they tried to take me to was closed, so we went to Cool Beans in Bellefonte instead. I was just glad to get out in the car.

The day before that, Sunday, I also tried to take my bike to drop it off at the shop. But then I suddenly noticed that the buses didn’t run on Sunday. That ruined my whole attempt. I was sick and didn’t have enough energy to walk back home after riding the bike to town. I don’t know how far it is, but it’s far enough that I get tired and regret that I’m walking. I reach that point where I suddenly feel that I just cannot walk any more, but I have to anyway. I’m out of shape, and I have chronic fatigue and excessive caffeine use and chronic insomnia from the electronic attacks, so I get tired easily.

But today, I was able to go.

I also took St. John’s Wort. I had seen it growing wild in a little field of grass behind one of the local restaurants when I was walking to Sheetz. There were just a couple of big, huge clusters of yellow flowers that I recognized and took note of. I wanted to see if it would help me get my decon finished. So I pulled off one tiny leaf, nibbled it, then spit it back out, and wiped my fingers on the ground to get rid of any oils. I walked to Sheetz to get some food, and noticed that the leaf wasn’t really affecting me very much at all, so I stopped by the flowers again on the way back. This time I pulled off just one yellow flower petal, chewed it up, and swallowed it. Only one single petal. It doesn’t take much. When you eat the fresh plant, it’s toxic. You don’t want to just grab a huge handful and wolf it down like spinach.

I only got a tiny bit sick – for a moment, I felt regret and wanted to vomit – but the feeling was mild and it passed quickly. I went home and ate some food, and when I put food in my stomach, it felt better. Then I went to sleep for a couple hours. Whatever sjw does for me, it’s probably because of the sleep. The extra sleep is beneficial. Sjw always makes me sleep for many, many long hours. That might be the *only* reliable effect that it has. But merely getting some extra sleep is very helpful to me. I never get enough sleep because of the electronic attacks and the fake dreams. Sleep induced by sjw is not normal sleep – it has an unnatural amount of some particular sleep phase, I forget which – so it’s not as good for you as real
uninterrupted sleep would have been – but it is slightly better than the pathetically small amount of sleep that I usually get.

I woke up when Jesse called me on the phone. They probably made him call me, I’m guessing. It’s not his fault. After we talked, ‘they’ urged me to get up and take the bike to the shop and drop it off. I was able to catch the bus and get out there, then buy some food at a little buffet thing in McClanahan’s, then catch the next bus back to this hotel.

Now I just have to sort through my belongings. If I go visit an apartment, I will wear a different pair of shoes, which I will change into when I get outside. I won’t walk around in the new apartment with contaminated shoes on.

I really don’t have to do much for this decon. I just need to make sure not to walk into the new place with ephedra-covered shoes on. I need to get rid of some clothing. This is a small decon, but even so it’s extremely hard to do.

I have to go to work tomorrow. Jesse got hired at McD and they’re taking their sweet time getting him on the schedule. He’s really impatient to know when he can start working. They’ve been doing that to all the new people, not just him. I’ll have to bug them again tomorrow and see if anyone knows his schedule yet. He doesn’t want to sit around waiting before he can start working.

why I haven’t found another apartment yet, and other rants about random stuff

August 4, 2014

1:25 PM 8/4/2014

I really am going to have to try finding the A2 milk instead of the A1 milk and see if it affects me differently. A1 and A2 describe something having to do with the structure of the protein in the milk, and it’s caused by the cow having a particular genetic mutation. The A1 is worse for you, and the A2 is better for you, to make a long story short. People who have bad reactions to milk usually do better if they drink A2 milk instead. I just bought some more organic half and half, and shortly after drinking it, my brain started having memory problems again.

I had this dream last night (and all my dreams are fake, scripted dreams written by ‘them,’ the mind controllers) that I met this IEE/ENFP who was ‘Hungarian,’ and he was writing these long, long letters to me. I met him at the meetup group for atheism. In the dream, he sort of resembled the LSE guy who works at TB and came from Ukraine.

This dream is based on grains of truth, in a twisted way. I actually met Steve, indirectly, as a result of going to the atheists’ meetup group. There was a guy who looked exactly like Steve, to me, in the group. One day I was sitting at Dunkin Donuts using the wifi, back when I was homeless, and a guy walked in who looked exactly like the guy in the meetup group. I said hi in a friendly way as though I recognized him, then suddenly realized it was not the same guy.

I apologized and told him he looked exactly like someone else I knew, and this started a conversation, and Steve turned out to be an EII, my activator relation, so we hit it off really easily, and we ended up taking a walk together around the college campus talking. That was how we became friends.

During that time, I did not have a boyfriend, and the only ‘boyfriend’ I had was 😦 Rick, and I was thinking of traveling to Georgia to go meet him (Georgia, the country in Europe). But because of our many disasters and fiascoes and my attacks of mania and my voices in my head and all that, Rick and I were not able to talk to each other directly, and I was always emailing him but he was unable to respond to me. He could not write back in email or speak to me if I called on the phone.

I might have scared him by telling him that I was being mind controlled by people who were ‘not nice people,’ which was one of the things he once quoted from me when he was explaining the harassment that I was doing to him. He might have thought that he or I or somebody would be in danger if we talked to each other, and I dunno, that could be true, because I know nothing about the people who are attacking me. Anybody who uses electronic weapons to control other people’s brains is, by definition, not a nice person, and potentially dangerous and lacking ethics. And I had told Rick that he absolutely had to ignore me and discourage me because I said I would go crazy and do weird things if he talked to me. That’s no longer true – I do not have mania at all, anything like what I had back then, because my drug residue decontaminations have been extremely successful, as I said all along that they would be. My decontaminations are indeed effective at getting rid of the substances that cause me to become manic. It was the oil of St. John’s Wort and other herbs and drugs I had handled in the past, and it was all over my clothing and belongings and my bicycles even, and it would go through my skin and affect my moods. There are still traces of residues on my shoes, which is what my current decon is going to try to fix.

Anyway, during the time when I met Steve, the only man I was attached to was Rick, and I was still emailing him and thinking I would go over to visit him in Europe and meet him in person. So since that was my only relationship, I started having a sexual relationship with Steve, but I tried to explain to Steve that I was in love with someone else who I was sending emails to.

And then, it got even more complicated, because right before Christmas of 2013, Jesse appeared at TB where I worked. He was a ‘gift,’ I say, which sounds kind of ominious, because it reminds me of Gollum saying that the One Ring was a ‘birthday present.’ But even so, I think of Jesse as ‘the best Christmas present I ever got.’ That’s my mnemonic aid, my way of remembering our ‘anniversary,’ the day when we met.

After I met Jesse, I stopped having sex with Steve, except one time, and I felt really, really horrible and disgusted with myself afterwards and decided absolutely for certain that I did not want to keep having sex with Steve while also trying to develop a relationship with Jesse.

Being with Steve is much worse too because he is covered with a very large amount of tobacco residue, which makes me extremely irritable when I am around him for a couple hours. He touches his tobacco directly, by getting loose tobacco and rolling it with his own papers, which is cheaper than buying cigarettes, and if you touch tobacco with your bare hands, then touch all your clothing and belongings, then everything you own will be covered with tobacco oil, which goes through the skin. If you then touch any of your belongings, you will have a reaction as though you just smoked a cigarette, like you just took a ‘hit,’ and you will even go into withdrawal from tobacco a couple hours later. I always go into withdrawal afterwards and start yawning over and over again, nonstop yawning, and feeling really hungry and having a craving for something, and I’ll try to eat and nothing I eat will satisfy me, and I get really irritable and angry, exactly like people who are quitting cigarettes.

So now, Steve is still my friend, and he shows up once in a while and wants to visit me. I’m trying to hang out with him as little as possible, because my relationship with Jesse is still sort of fragile and vulnerable and insecure. I never know from one day to the next whether my relationship with Jesse is quite secure or not. There are reasons for that – he’s young, and he has problems of his own, and he’s had a hard time keeping a job.

I am so proud to be with him, I want to brag about it to everyone and make everyone meet him and show him to everyone. I see him as a boyfriend, but I also see him almost as an adopted son, and you could think of that as being really kinky and incestuous if you want to, but it would be incest between two genetically unrelated people, so if that’s incest, so be it. It’s like adopting him because I want to protect him and take care of him, in a way, while he is gradually getting on his feet and growing up. I am very much aware that he is young, that he is not done growing up yet, that he’s going to grow a little bit bigger and that he will also grow more mature, that he is inexperienced with jobs and with everything in general, that he will become more experienced and competent and strong over time, and that I should not expect instant miracles from him right now, and I know what I was like when I was nineteen, too. When I was young, I avoided having a job for as long as possible, and even when I was in college, I didn’t really have much of a job for long. I worked a little bit in the summers when I went home from college, but even those jobs were just temporary, and I didn’t really ‘find myself’ in a job until I started working at McD, which I still love even now (with a few reservations…). I worked at some other types of jobs too, like desk jobs in an office, but it wasn’t as much fun as McD.

Jesse broke my heart the other day. He said he forgot that I had moved out of the apartment. 😦 He went over there and tried to find me and I wasn’t there, I was here at the hotel. I liked that apartment because it was within a few minutes’ walking distance of Jesse’s family’s house. I liked it for many other reasons too. I do want to continue living in that general area.

I never did write was I was going to write about – the psychological reasons why I’m doing what I’m doing. I wanted to write about why I haven’t gotten an apartment yet.

Every once in a great while, I am given the opportunity to explore my own psychological reasons for something, asking myself questions about what I’m thinking, how I see it, why I’m doing what I’m doing, why I’m afraid to do something, and so on. Since I am attacked with electronic mind control all the time, being zapped every couple seconds 24/7/365, every hour of every day, I am unable to really think deeply about anything, and cannot question my own motives or find out what I want or why I’m doing what I’m doing or how to fix it, and I cannot accept my own emotions and process them and get over my fears, the way I used to do when I was not being attacked like this.

I’ve been attacked and controlled my whole life, which I can recognize in hindsight, but in the past, it was not so severe, and I still had a little bit of freedom that I do not have now. In the past I could still meditate about my own motives and my own fears, and work through them, and process my feelings and get over them, and make decisions, and take actions, and make changes in my life. Now, I am controlled and enslaved and prevented from taking actions freely. I am extremely restricted. I cannot just decide on a whim to go do something, like, for instance, run to the Greyhound bus station, buy a ticket, and leave town spontaneously and disappear off into the sunset without telling anyone where I was going. But that was exactly the type of spontaneous thing that I might have done in the past when I was younger and when the attacks were less severe.

Peter Breggin, the author of whatever that book is, ‘Psychiatric Drug Withdrawal,’ says that stimulant drugs greatly reduce all spontaneous behavior and replace it with OCD behavior – obsessive-compulsive behavior. This is so, so true. I am opposed to using any caffeine at all, but I am addicted to it and using it now. Before I used caffeine, I was able to be much more spontaneous. This gives me hope, because even in spite of the mind control, I might someday be more spontaneous again if I completely quit caffeine and stay off it forever and never start it up again. I will have to make lifestyle changes in order for that to be possible. I’m doing it now because I’m working too much. This is temporary.

But, I had the chance to sit there and question my reasons for why I’m doing this. I sat in the bathtub, which is usually the place where I do this type of questioning. Sitting in the bathtub is the best place for me to think most clearly. I suspect that there is something about the bath that improves my mind and body’s ability to think clearly. It might be the negative ions in the air, it might be the electrical conductivity of the water, something, for some reason, the mind control doesn’t affect me as badly when I’m sitting in the bathtub.

So I sat there and I did my EFT tapping. EFT – Emotional Freedom Techniques. This is similar to acupressure. You tap or rub or press on particular locations on your skin, which causes you to feel soothing, relaxing sensations and which greatly reduces anxiety. I don’t claim that it’s as miraculous as some people claim it to be, but it is extremely helpful though. I agree with the commonsense explanations for it – that human bodies are designed to be comforted by physical touch – that when you pick up a crying baby, you might pick it up under the armpits, and you touch the under-arm pressure points that release a soothing comforting anxiety relieving sensation. So, there is a point under the armpits that you can touch and press on, by yourself, which comforts you. You rub your face or your temples when you’re upset, or when you’re thirsty and dehydrated or drugged. Etc – all the points that you touch are ‘common sense’ locations where people already touch you to comfort you, where people have always touched each other. It’s non-sexual touch. Even if you just go your own way, and don’t follow the particular points that are recommended by EFT, even if all you do is just give yourself a general massage on any place that seems to ‘want’ to be touched, it will help you relieve anxiety while you think about distressing thoughts.

So I did that while sitting in the bath thinking about why I haven’t left this hotel yet. I was interacting with a non-judgmental voice, who questioned me about why I was doing this. And we found the answers, and it turns that I do, indeed, have some real reasons why I am afraid to take action. For example: the hackers probably interfered with my previous attempt to get an apartment by answering craigslist ads. Nobody ever responded to my replies to their ads. The time ran out, and I had to leave the apartment before I found a new place, which is why I am now here at this motel. But that’s because the hackers blocked my emails, probably.

So I don’t know if it’s even worthwhile to try finding another apartment through ads, or not. Are they blocking me forever, or just temporarily? Are they blocking me because they wanted me to do my decon first (which was what I myself wanted to do before I moved into that apartment, but failed to do)? Or are they blocking me
permanently from getting an apartment again, which means I will have to move back into a tent? I can’t fathom the minds of the attackers, since they never bother to explain to me why they are doing what they’re doing or what they hope to accomplish. I don’t know if it’s worthwhile to even try to get another apartment before I have finished this decon to my satisfaction. I might be blocked. So I’m not even trying to answer ads right now until the decon is done.

I have to go ahead and publish this because I’m going out to eat someplace with a couple of coworkers. Two of them are getting married and leaving this town and going back to where the girl’s family lives in Missouri, and so we’re all saying goodbye.

I think my boyfriend might be in a relationship with me!

August 3, 2014

10:09 AM 8/3/2014

My boyfriend Jesse suddenly posted on facebook that he is ‘in a relationship.’ I saw this in my facebook news feed today, and my reaction was, ‘Whoa, wait, WHAT relationship?’ I was genuinely confused and thought, ‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’ I thought he meant he was in a relationship with somebody else besides me.

We’ve been keeping it kind of private and unofficial. I’m proud to be with him, but I usually assume that he might not be proud to be with me. I’m 20 years older and uglier… I’ve had a rough life and haven’t achieved very much. It would be hard to explain my point of view to other people, and I often want to, but don’t get a chance to, because it would take a very long conversation.

But, I’m going to assume that he’s probably in a relationship with me, unless he tells me otherwise. 😀