Archive for August, 2015

As of right now, it’s nothing

August 30, 2015

2:58 PM 8/30/2015

(*Note: one of the reasons I did this is because ‘they’ suggested it. It was not entirely my idea.*)

At this point, nobody believes that I have rabies, but they can see that my tonsils are swollen and have pus on them. My lymph nodes are swollen on my neck. I didn’t know how bad my tonsils were. I would not have worried about any of this, except that I handled Max’s body and could have inhaled rabies again. The symptoms in and of themselves are not bad, it’s just a sore throat, I just don’t want it to become rabies.

The doctor who came in was a male EII / INFJ, and I snapped at him, very bitterly, when he suggested that I never had rabies at all back in March and April. He handled my outburst well enough. It had to be mind control, but when I spat out words, they were not my own words, surely – they were meaningless. I said, ‘yes, I guess that’s why I got hydrophobia and aerophobia for no reason, just for fun, very entertaining, because I felt like it,’ something like that. The words ‘very entertaining’ were the suspicious words that were probably inserted by mind control. They seemed like not my own words.

My heart was racing at full speed and I was full of adrenaline. If it had been a private setting, I should have slapped him in the face.

Then, they wanted to hook me up to an IV, in addition to getting my blood drawn. I said no to the IV. There is nothing that I need an IV for. I requested a glass of water after having about eight vials of blood drawn. It was a shocking amount of blood. They offered to check me for Lyme disease because I have chronic fatigue – that was the INFJ doctor’s idea. So, that will be part of the blood work.

But I won’t get an IV. I don’t need anything put into me. They said, ‘in case we need to give you any medications later or anything like that,’ but I cannot see any reason at all why I would need any medications at all right now. I feel fine, other than simply wanting to avoid getting full-blown rabies a month from now. I do not normally go to the emergency room for tonsillitis.

However, after seeing eight or nine vials of blood drawn, it occurred to me that I might want an IV just to get rehydrated. I only had coffee for breakfast, then ate at Burger King and had a burger and a milkshake, so I didn’t have any real water to drink today, and no real source of potassium.

I never got tested for Lyme disease because I just didn’t think Lyme disease was the cause of my symptoms, and also, there isn’t a lot you can do about Lyme disease, other than start living a healthy lifestyle and eating good nutrition, neither of which I can do at this moment.

I’ve been bitten by ticks several times in my life. In West Virginia, they were larger ticks, wood ticks. The one a couple years ago was a tiny deer tick. The deer tick bit me just above my right hip, and it left a red welt there that lasted for several years, and in fact, that red welt comes and goes even now. I knew that one could have given me Lyme disease, but I already had chronic fatigue before that deer tick.

Yeah, that would have been funny if I had slapped the doctor. I will have to do that next time. I guarantee THAT will get me on an IV with drugs in it.

I’m glad I have my laptop, because I’m going to have to sit here a long time waiting for blood work. My insurance card was invalid, too. It must be in the envelopes that I haven’t opened. I think I got a new one or something and didn’t bother putting it in my wallet yet, because of being thrown out of the house, having Max die, getting two new jobs, setting up my tent, and struggling to survive in general. It was a low priority. I did not expect Max to die, and then for me to inhale his diseases and get rabies or something from his dead mummified body.

I still could have something from Max, but it might not be rabies. It could Max’s ‘chronic wasting disease,’ as I called it. No matter how much he ate, he was always skinny like he was starving.

I still have to sort out the problem with the bank.

I still have to renew my driver’s license, to make sure I can get to West Virginia.

Here I am, at the emergency room for tonsillitis, just because I didn’t want it to develop into rabies a month from now.

Yeah, I forgot about the encephalitis. I had encephalitis that was developing before I got the immunoglobulin, and it continued for a long time after the shots, and it caused me to almost have a seizure from the bright lights and pounding at that dinner thing where I was working as a server, at the temp job. Encephalitis doesn’t just appear out of nowhere for the heck of it, and neither do seizures and convulsions.

Lol, on the television, one of the categories that you can click on says ‘Your Stay.’ That must be the place where the dollars-per-minute are being added up, and you can watch the numbers climb in real time. It’ll show the numbers rolling over – $3,568.89, $3,568.95, and so on, and you can watch them climb, with every passing second.

I didn’t interact enough with any other people to figure out what types they were. Someone’s type is most obvious if you are having some kind of a conflict with them and you can see how they constantly respond to you.

At the end, he told me that I don’t have Lyme Disease. That was the one piece of information I got so far. I already did not think I had it, but now I have a blood test saying I don’t have it. Oh well.

Immunoglobulin is not the same thing as a vaccine. Immunoglobulin is a CURE and should be labeled as such.

August 30, 2015

11:09 AM 8/30/2015

I might not have enough battery left to write this, and there are no plugs where I am. I’m going to go get an immunoglobulin shot for rabies. I have a sore throat and a swollen lymph node, and it began during this time when I handled Max’s body.

I hope they don’t argue with me about the immunoglobulin.

The rest of the shots do nothing.

Immunoglobulin is not the same thing as a vaccine. It should not be described as a ‘vaccine.’ The word ‘vaccine’ should not be used for immunoglobulin. It is a totally different thing. Immunoglobulin is an actual cure. It should legally be described with the word ‘cure.’

However, if people knew that immunoglobulin was a cure for anything (including the other childhood diseases), they would not want to get the vaccines, they would only want to get the cure after they got the disease (goes the argument). So – shhhhh – there is no cure for anything.

I probably don’t have enough battery left to get into this discussion. It’s my understanding that all of the ‘vaccines’ given to babies contain immunoglobulin. That is what makes them actually work at all.

‘Immunoglobulin’ and ‘vaccines’ are a whole separate thing! A ‘vaccine’ is a bunch of killed or weakened viruses that are intended to make your immune system learn how to fight that disease. With the rabies vaccine, I believe that the vaccine part of it does not do jack shit, but the immunoglobulin cures rabies.

The rabies vaccine works in animals because it is a weakened form of the virus. It does not work in humans because it is a killed virus, not a weakened live virus. The rabies vaccine given to humans is different from the rabies vaccine given to pets.

Max died with chronic rabies. ‘Chronic’ and ‘rabies’ are viewed as an oxymoron, but they are not. He was asymptomatic.

This is all my theory of what is going on so far.

I’ll have to plug in the laptop and talk more about this later. I’m off work today. I’ll spend a little while at the hospital arguing with them about needing an immunoglobulin shot and nothing else. I don’t want all the other shots – they are pointless. If they worked, I would not be getting sick now. The shots that are intended to provide long-term immunity do nothing.

Also, if you already had rabies in your body, then your body is already fighting it – why would your body need to see it again? Supposedly, the ‘adjuvants’ make your body react ‘more strongly’ to it, according to their theory.

I don’t want to get all the shots. I will get the immunoglobulin shot. Then I’ll see if my sore throat and swollen lymph node goes away.

Marketing ‘vaccines’ and ‘immunoglobulin’ and ‘adjuvants’ all together as the same thing is fraudulent. Each separate piece is doing a separate thing. Imagine if they just kept adding more and more and more stuff into the shot, like, say, vitamins and minerals, Botox, electrolytes, nanobots, abrasive sand to clear out the insides of your arteries, and a magic potion to make you smarter. Then they would just label the whole thing as a ‘vaccine,’ even though it’s actually a whole bunch of different ingredients that have hundreds of different functions and purposes.

You might not want *all* of the things that are in there, just some of them. You might object to some of them but not all of them – the same way that I’m willing to get immunoglobulin now if I have rabies.

It still bothers me, something about rabies. Why are we not able to get immune to it?

Pasteur observed that if you injected rabies into one species of animal, then made a vaccine out of them, and injected it into a different species of animal, and then another different species, the virus would get stronger or weaker depending on which species of animal it had last been inside of, and it would *remain* that strong when injected into the next animal. It was epigenetic evolution.

If I recall, the strongest and most virulent rabies came from vaccines made from rabbits (nope – that’s backwards – I’m reading it now and I can’t find the original thing I read – it’s actually weaker in rabbits). For all I know, maybe that’s where the word ‘rabies’ came from (rabbits? rabid? – maybe there is some connection, I don’t know).

But if you gave the disease to some other species, I forget which, it would get weak enough that you could then inject it into other animals without making them sick, and that was how the ‘weakened form’ of the virus was produced.

(I can’t find any of this info now. It will take a lot more searching. Everything I just said is wrong.)

The basic idea is that as the disease travels from one species to another, its strength changes, so that it affects the next animal differently – but it can be MADE STRONGER by going through particular species, and it can be MADE WEAKER by going through other particular species.

I hate having to argue about this. I know they will argue with me when I go to the hospital and ask for this shot. I will have to explain what happened.

Not only that, but I’m having problems with the bank which will have to be fixed. I tried to change the date of an automatic payment from my insurance and I didn’t do it right, and it charged me anyway, when I had no money, so I overdrew, and now I’m getting charged fees every day because my bank balance is negative, and FUCKING TACO BELL is now paying every TWO WEEKS instead of every week. So I’m having to wait like three weeks before I get a paycheck, because I just started.

When a business starts paying every two weeks, it suggests that they are having money problems and using the techniques known as ‘magic bookkeeping’ (that’s just what I call them). Somebody somewhere is using magic bookkeeping to hide the fact that we are going bankrupt, and the reason we are going bankrupt is because of the horrific atrocity that is the Taco Bell breakfast (this is all my THEORY – I don’t know if it’s true). If you pay the employees less often, it means you are desperately searching for some way to get the money to pay them.

Over time, businesses that are doing badly will do more and more in this direction, such as delaying paychecks by two weeks, then delaying them by an entire month, and so on. That was happening when I worked at Uni-Mart, and lo and behold, that Uni-Mart was bought by new owners not long after I left because of all its money problems. A business that is doing well with its money will pay its employees as promptly as possible and as often as possible. So they might start nudging it and delaying it more and more, like, ‘Your paychecks are going to be one week later from now on – relax, you’re still going to get paid, it’s just going to be one week later!’ I won’t be surprised if this happens at TB.

I had a discussion with Glenn the ILI / INTP about *real* Mexican food. (He also knows about Irish slipjigs!) He knows that real Mexican food is not like Taco Bell. That was an interesting conversation. I’m almost out of battery and should get ready to go to the hospital now that I’m done eating.

I wish more primitive stick-house-builders were nearby, sort of

August 29, 2015

3:50 PM 8/29/2015

I came out here to the diner earlier than usual. I go to work at 5:00. I still have an hour and ten minutes. I’ve been here for quite a while already.

I’m still using drugs that I wish I wasn’t using. I switched to vivarin because the side effects of vivarin are less bad than the side effects of that generic caffeine pill I got from Rite-Aid. I still get side effects though. I’m not going to argue about the side effects – suffice it to say that I don’t want to be on caffeine in the long run.

A few times a day, the reality of Max’s death comes back to me. He’s dead. I recognized him. But I still feel like he’s out there, alive, about to come home to me, about to come running across the street meowing for food.

I’m building a wall of sticks. It’s a curving wall. It’s also the floor, because I am on a hill, and I need to make the floor level, so the floor will be deeper on the downhill side – I’m piling up sticks to make the floor level, and it’s integrated into the wall.

I was being prompted by a ‘vision’ from them, but in reality, the thing that I’m building has no resemblance to the vision. The vision was based on youtube videos and other images that I’ve seen online where people built primitive houses that were perfectly square, etc. Mine is going to be more like a rounded, messy nest of intertwined sticks. That is fine with me.

I have already almost run out of sticks, but all I built was a small wall. I will have to do a whole bunch of stick collecting. It is actually a *huge* project, not something that can be done overnight.

I started imagining a sort of long tunnel that I could add more tunnels to. I could start with one small nest-room, but I could always add a huge long bunch of other tunnels and rooms later on. I want something high enough that I can stand up inside it. It isn’t meant to be one of those survival shelters where all you can do is lie down inside a very small hole, just to sleep and keep warm. I wanted it to actually be a room where I could do things.

I have these tasks to do, but I keep postponing them. I just never feel up to it. It’s very hard to focus when I am using the internet in a public place. I could have done it from a quiet place. I could have done it at the right moment. I’m not even sure of all the tasks I have to do. I keep giving myself phone reminders and then shutting them off. I have to do things like, change addresses, change a delivery address on something I ordered, renew my driver’s license. Lots of stuff.

I am having trouble directing myself into goals. All of my goals and directions are changing. I will settle in when I finish getting hired at McD, and when I come back from visiting WV.

I have a sore throat and my right lymph node is swollen today. Jacob made his vomiting noise last night, but he was outside nearby so I didn’t see if he actually vomited. If there is an illness going around, my cats and I always get it at the same time. Having a swollen lymph node is very strange. I will just keep an eye on it. It’s just under the right side of my jaw, on the neck.

I’m feeling depressed and lonely right now. I want to get settled into my two jobs as soon as possible, and get control over my schedule. I miss Jesse. I got to talk to him on the phone last night. My phone battery nearly ran out. It’s charging right now. I wish I had some close friends who lived nearby who were also interested in building stick houses, people who want to do the same thing, maybe even people who would build their own stick house near mine, although actually, I don’t want us to compete to build the ‘best’ stick house, and I don’t want anyone telling me how I ought to build mine, or tell me that I’m doing it wrong. Maybe I should do it all by myself the first time, until I feel more confident. But even so, I do wish I had other primitives living in the woods with me, moving towards the same goal of total independence, total reliance on the wild, for materials and food.

Dumb annoying news story

August 29, 2015

I refuse to register for this website and get an account just so I can comment about how stupid this article is. It says that a drone saw a man sitting on top of a wind turbine. Then it says ‘Initially, the man didn’t seem too pleased about being discovered, and it appears that he even flipped the drone off. But Miller told the Mirror, “Upon landing he saw me bring the drone down and was leaning over the edge. I looked up and wave to him and he waved back.” ‘

Excuse me? Drone pilot? Drones are flown by people sitting in a computer room in a faraway place. They are a remote controlled plane. You do not ‘land a drone, look up at someone, and wave.’ What… the… fuck.

I refuse to sign up for that website just so I can comment about this stupid news article.

I saw his face. I just had to look at it a different way.

August 29, 2015

8:23 PM 8/28/2015

I looked at him again. It is absolutely Max. I did not bury his body, I only laid it gently on the ground right next to the tree. I walked by, and stopped to look at him closely for the first time since I laid him there. I could see Max’s little face. I just hadn’t been looking at it the right way. I saw his tiny little cat face with his tiny little eyes closed. He looked adorable.

The reason it is so hard to identify him is because of this. I will be graphic, so be prepared. This is what happened to his body.

Max was lying next to the edge of the road. I was riding my bike to the bus stop when I saw him, on the way to work a couple days ago. He was actually on the road, but thankfully, he was on the edge, the shoulder of the road, not out in the middle.

It had been very hot, and the road itself would have been extremely hot out in the bright sun. Max’s body had been completely dried out, almost mummified, and it had shrunken down so that it was almost two-dimensional and paper thin. His bones for some reason had been shattered and scattered around the spot. He might have been run over after the body had dried out. His skin was pale with brown spots all over it. There was fur missing in a lot of places, just bare skin.

I could not recognize his face. I could see the general head area, but I wasn’t looking at it from the right direction to understand where his face was. I thought his face was bigger and pointing in a different direction from what I was looking at. I was looking at the top of his head and thinking it was the side. Everything was so shrunken and dried out that I could not easily see it from the right direction.

However, just tonight, when I went to look at him again, I suddenly saw his face, from a different direction, shrunken, dried out, and much smaller, but it was absolutely him. It was my Max. I called him my fuzzy bunny. I called him ‘bunny’ because he was as small as a bunny, and because baby bunnies are so cute. I could see his face and it was still cute. His eyes were closed. I recognized my fuzzy bunny for sure. It is absolutely my little Max. I brought home his body to this safe, peaceful, healthy, nice, pleasant place, instead of on the hot road where he did not belong.

Now that I know it’s him, I kind of want to go collect the rest of the shattered bones, just sweep them up and put them into my shoebox like I did when I got his body. I thought it might be a possum, so I just collected most of his body, and left the shattered pieces. But I know it’s him, for sure, so I will try to get all of him, instead of leaving some of his body out there on the road.

When I looked at him tonight, in the dim light, I also recognized his fur color, his light grey. It was him. I am certain it is him. It is my little Max, and he is lying beside the biggest tree, right there on the ground. It does not smell, because his body was completely dried out and mummified in the hot sun on the highway.

I do not doubt. My little Max is dead. I will not question anymore.

I have been talking to Max while I’m doing this. I tell Max things I wanted him to know. I tell him twhat I’m doing and why I’m doing it. I tell him what happens in the world of people. I told him the reason why the highway is there. I told him the reason we have a highway there is because there are evil, stupid people who tell other people where they are allowed to live, and they make zoning laws that tell us that we are not allowed to live in the same place where we work. So everybody has to drive their cars a long, long, long way to the places where they work, and that’s the reason why there is a highway there. And we also have to go shopping for food a long, long way from where we live, too, because the stupid people tell us that we are not allowed to have a little informal outdoor market like they have in foreign countries. These evil stupid people do these things to increase the property values, to make themselves richer, because they are associated with the landowners and the realtors and the banks. That’s why Max died. That’s why there’s a highway there. That’s why people have to drive their cars so fast.

I told Max that I’m building a little house of sticks, which I worked on tonight. I piled up most of my pile of sticks into a sort of wall-floor of a rounded nest. It is only just beginning. It takes *SO MANY STICKS*, which I will have to collect over a long period of time. I am using some sticks that are strong and fresh, and other sticks that are soft and rotten, and other sticks that are just thin leafy branches that I ripped off all these awful bushes around me – I don’t know what they are, some of them are that honeysuckle stuff, and others are unknown bushes with little green berries. I don’t recognize any of them.

The sticks do not have to be perfect and unbreakable, because I am not building a parking garage. This does not have to hold tens of thousands of pounds. It is okay if some of the sticks snap when I push down on them. This is a nest, and all the sticks together give it the strength to not collapse. I made a curving wall-floor edge, and then I tested it by standing on top of it, and lying down on top of it. Aside from the fact that the mosquitoes were driving me insane and relentlessly flying around my head, even with my hood up, so that I could not even pretend to relax and get comfortable and sleep, even so, I could sleep on that pile of sticks. It just needs a smoother outer layer made out of tiny space-filler sticks, so that the larger sticks aren’t digging into my body painfully, like they were.

At first I tried to poke one tall stick deep into the ground, thinking that that one stick would stand up like a pillar, and I was going to pile up some sticks around that, pressing against it. I was following a vision. I had seen some youtube videos and stuff. I am also being given visions by the voices in my head, the mind controllers.

So I tried poking this stick into the ground, but it didn’t work. The ground was soft on the very top, but just under that, it was filled with millions of interconnecting tiny roots. I could not poke anything into it. I tried spinning the stick in the ground, but it did not go down through the roots. I could do that for hours, with great effort, and maybe get it in. I decided not to bother. I would just pile up the sticks against the edge of the tree trunk, and against the trunks of the one bush that was there. The bush had originally seemed to be ‘in my way’ and must be removed, as I must clear all of the space, but suddenly the bush became part of the structure. The bush is now becoming a pillar that holds up the wall. All of the wall will be integrated with the bushes.

Everything is integrated and rounded in shape, like a wild animal would build it. I am not making squares and rectangles. It is starting to look like a bird’s nest. It is incorporated and integrated with the objects around it. I only cleared a little bit of ground, then just started piling the sticks. I am not using tools to clear the area. I am just bending and ripping the branches of these bushes with my hands, and I can only rip the skinniest branches. I can sometimes pull the small bushes up out of the ground. I have to do this so that I have just enough of a path to walk around the area. The bushes force me to crouch down when I walk, and they grab my hair and they try to poke me in the eyes. So I am slightly clearing them, but not completely.

I’m on half a vivarin pill right now. I switched to vivarin, because that other generic caffeine pill was causing too much bone loss. I took half a vivarin, and st. john’s wort. I need to get some new SJW, because the one that I have looks bad – it might be a teensy bit moldy. I put it into a ziploc bag while it was still fresh and green, and carried it with me when I moved. It came from a place near the apartment. It should have been dried out before being put into a bag.

Talking about things being dried out made me think of Max again. I recognized his little face.

It is strange that I believe in eating meat (note: talking about hunting and meat eating is something that happens when I use vivarin). I would dry out the meat, exactly like Max’s body was dried out. There is a difference between an animal that I know and love personally, and an anonymous animal that I hunted and chased, which was never my friend, and it knew I was the enemy as soon as I started hunting it, and it never trusted me and loved me. I have to make this distinction. I do still believe in eating meat.

In theory, then, in principle, it implies that I believe in defending myself against any predators who try to hunt and eat me. If I have the right to eat meat, then someone else can also kill me. The only thing I can do is defend myself. There are few predators that will eat me. The only enemies are other humans.

If I’m going to get Max’s crushed bones, I have to do it at nighttime, which means I should get ready to go sometime before I forget. Maybe I will just write till the battery runs out.

I took vivarin for the purpose of helping me get up and make the nest. I was sleeping. I desperately needed sleep. I had gone to a McD interview earlier today, and had run around all over the place, going to the YMCA to take a shower, then someplace else to buy a shirt that wasn’t moldy, then going to buy some underwear that wasn’t moldy because they didn’t have any underwear at the one place where I bought the shirt, then going to eat someplace, then going to the interview. I am riding my bike with a squishy tire that needs to be pumped up. It’s hard enough to ride my bike already because I have short legs and a long torso, and bikes are not designed for that. My center of gravity is too far back, so I drag.

It is unfair that I have to use caffeine to help me build a nest.

Sorry, I’m being interrtuped by killing mosquitoes and mosquito-like bugs flying in front of my screen.

I had to close the screen. I was leaving it open so Jacob could go in and out, but he’s going to just have to hit the door and I’ll open it for him if he wants in.

Anyway, I just remembered that the Inuit people say, you can’t get married if you don’t know how to build an igloo! Building an igloo is a requirement of marriage. In a way, that’s kind of scary, and kind of awesome at the same time. I guess it means you can’t possibly fail. Every person will become competent enough to build their own igloo. If you fail, you keep trying again until you can do it. Every single person must learn.

Anyway, as I was saying, the only reason I must continue using caffeine is because I am already addicted to it. If I were completely 100% withdrawn from caffeine, I would be able to slowly start doing things without it.

I am using caffeine because I still have to go to my jobs and earn some money, even though I don’t have to pay rent at the moment. I need to transition over to a lifestyle that uses less money, which is why I want a house of sticks. But for right now, I still absolutely have to have things like sleeping bags, food I buy at the stores and restaurants, and other stuff.

Max. He is by the tree. The rest of his body is on the edge of the road. I will go out there with the box. I will sweep it up and bring those crumbs. There are tiny broken bones there. It is his body. I know it is his. It is not a possum. I saw his sweet, cute little face with his eyes closed asleep. Max loved me. He always loved me. It was an accident. I mean, ‘accident’ as in he did not do it deliberately. He might have been murdered. Max didn’t mean to go away and never come back.

I’m sorry that the evil landowners force people to always move from place to place. I am a victim and a slave, even though I might seem like a big powerful human. I am only a pathetic small human who is bullied by huge groups of powerful humans. The groups of evil humans force people to pay money to live in a house, and they can force you to leave and go someplace else, and that is what happened to me.

Also, other stupid humans take baby kittens away from their mothers, when those baby kittens ought to stay with their mothers forever. Stupid humans did that to Max, and that’s why Max was taken away from his mother.

Then he lived with a stupid human who kept him locked in the room for a year or however long she was there. I let him outside, and he loved going outside. I was not as much of a stupid human. I am smart enough to understand that he has feelings and he has rights. However, I had to violate his rights – for reasons that I don’t feel like talking about or justifying right now. I took him with me to the forest. I did not want to do any of that to him, but I felt that I had to.

Maybe I will get up and go get the bones. It is all of him. I will try to get that.

The stupid human kept him locked inside the room, never letting him out, and she also fed him nothing but bad food. She fed him dry food, and it was the awful kind that’s full of artificial colors. He was locked inside and could not even try to hunt for his own food.

Jacob caught a mouse and ate some of it. He left the pieces on the little mat outside the tent. I had a green mat that was supposed to be used on the floor inside my tent. I bought two mats. One of them actually is my floor mat in the tent, but somehow, the other one ended up outside, and I just left it there, and Jacob and I are always sitting on that mat outside, in the shaft of sunlight that comes through the trees there. There are a lot of walnut trees, but they do not completely block the sun.

I also have a couple of poplar trees (tulip trees) and an oak and some other things I don’t know the names of. I’m kind of annoyed with myself, because in all this time, I have never learned the names of common trees. I only know a couple of them. I have had various tree identifications in my classes in school, but I forgot them because I wasn’t using the knowledge.

I only know that the tree branch textures are different, when I am collecting branches. I don’t have any orange sticks here. I had some orange sticks on Mt. Nittany, and I liked those because I like the color orange. We have grey sticks here. We also have sticks with lichen on them, and then we have infinity million bushes. I can actually use the sticks from the bushes, but it takes just a little bit more effort to break them. Many of them are dried, though, and I could use those for firewood. The branches close to the ground, the ones underneath the outer layers of branches, do not have leaves on them and are dead, dry, and easily breakable.

I am learning how to build the nest. This is my first real nest. When I was a little kid, I wanted to fly. I would chase the birds in the backyard, flapping my arms. I would try to catch the birds by running at them. I would build a nest out of grass clippings, on the ground, around the pine trees in the ‘way back’ of the house at Greensburg, PA. I also used to roll down the tops of my socks so that they made a ring around my ankles, and I thought I looked like Big Bird, because he had those orange rings around his legs for some reason, and so I would roll my socks like that and chant, ‘BIG BAD BIRD,’ while stomping down the hallway. Big Bad Bird, ba da da da, ba da da da Big Bad Bird! I don’t think anybody knew I was doing that. There was a full length mirror at the end of the upstairs hallway, before we built the addition, the sewing room, which was an awesome room. But before that, the hallway ended there with a mirror, so I would stomp towards the mirror, watching myself.

That addition is where we painted Pac Man and the Ghosts on the walls. I wonder if the new people left them there when they bought the house.

But, I am building a real nest out of sticks. The floor has to support some weight, but it is okay if the sticks are cracking – they won’t collapse. There will be too many of them intertwined, and also, as I said above, I’m not building a parking garage. It really doesn’t matter if a few sticks break.

I don’t yet know exactly what this house will be like. I am almost out of sticks, and won’t be able to build any more until I collect more sticks. I have to collect SO MANY STICKS. This is actually a very large project that can’t just be done in an instant. Collecting sticks is hard work when you’re walking around through a million bushes under the trees. It might have been easier in a clear forest like Mt. Nittany where there is absolutely nothing between the trees, and you can just walk around picking up infinity sticks freely. But I have to walk between the bushes, without getting lost, ripping the bushes so I can go through over and over again, getting tangled in the bushes, carrying branches through the bushes without the branches getting tangled, picking the branches out of the bushes where they have fallen, and all that. It is more time consuming and complicated and hard to do than you might imagine. You might think that simply picking up sticks in the forest would be extremely easy to do, but, insert meme here of Boromir from LOTR: ‘One does not simply…’

They gave me a dream where three woolly bears got thrown out of an apartment. The wooly bears were the black caterpillars, which gave me a new nickname for Jacob. I was already calling him variations of ‘bear,’ because he’s big, fat, and black like a black bear. But ‘woolly bear,’ the caterpillar, hadn’t occurred to me. I needed a cute nickname for Jacob, so now he is woolly bear.

In the dream I was standing inside a huge, empty apartment, where every inch of everything was covered in blue-gray carpet. In reality, it was a hardwood floor, which I liked. I would like carpet, except I have dealt with contamination. Everything was covered in carpet. This might have been inspired by something I saw online, where you look at the picture of the dogs playing poker, then tell someone all the details you remember, and how you describe the picture is determined by your personality type (intuitive or sensing). Sensors remember more literal details (‘the wall was green’). Intuitives tend to make up a story behind what is happening (‘I wonder if the dog’s wives are all at home’), something which is not actually literally visible in the picture.

So, the carpet was all over the walls and floor, and it was blue gray, and it wasn’t a shag carpet, it was a smooth carpet. This also might have been inspired by the movie ‘Inception,’ which had a scene where the guy recognized that the carpet was wrong. I don’t know.

The floor slanted up, like a pathway, like, what is that called, like a ramp. It went up to a higher section of the room.

On the floor was a little bit of a tree branch, with a little caterpillar’s nest on it, with three black woolly worms. Those three worms were me, Jacob, and Max. I picked up the branch and threw it outside, because I didn’t want bugs in my house. We got thrown out of the house.

The caterpillar’s nest is also because of spiders. ‘They’ referred to me as a spider, for a reason. Several years ago, I joined a forum, and I put a cute little orange jumping spider as my avatar. I thought jumping spiders were cute, because I had read a National Geographic article about jumping spiders, which are harmless and never bite, and you can hold them in your hand, and they will look up at you with their eyes. If you put a finger in front of their face, they will turn and look at your finger, like ‘what is that thing? can I jump on it? is it attacking me?’ So I gave myself the spider avatar because I, or ‘they,’ were making a joke that I was ‘creepy,’ like a spider, but actually harmless and cute, like a jumping spider.

So then, recently, I found the ISTP forum on PersonalityCafe. At the same time, I saw a news article about a huge community network of spiderwebs that had appeared in Texas, and this made me think of ‘them’ using the spider as the symbol for me. It was like a huge network of spiders, ISTPs, all together in that forum. The webs on the trees looked like caterpillar nests, but they were actually an enormous community of spiderwebs.

That was why we were on a caterpillar nest in the dream. We were creepy. We were repulsive. We were dislikable.

I had never felt comfortable with Mary Jo ever since the argument about neutering Max.

Then Max got killed. I did actually want to collect his bones. I know that they’re his. Maybe I’ll write till the battery dies, then I’ll go do it.

It hurts over and over. It reminds me over and over that Max was killed. For real. It’s him. I saw his little tiny face. Max was a very, very small cat, a runt.

Why was Max killed? The highways. The landowners. Evil people who control society and force us to live this way. We pay to rent. We are forced to leave. We are forced to drive cars long distances because of zoning laws. We cannot live in the same place where we work. People would be *horrified* about the fantasy that I have been dreaming of, for quite a while now, a fantasy where I would make a workplace where all the employees would live, if they chose to. It would be a fast food restaurant, except all the meat would be free range grass fed organic. It would be like McDonald’s, except I might not serve hamburgers. If I compromised and served bread, it would be the highest quality, most nourishing bread made by traditional primitive standards as described by Weston Price, so that it would provide real nutrition, from organic grains grown on good soil and freshly cut and left to soften in the rain for a bit, without pesticide, in the way primitive traditional towns would have done it. The grain would be freshly ground, the bread freshly baked, with no chemicals.

The workers would live in the restaurant. That violates the zoning laws, and a million people are already having a stroke at the very thought of that. Oh my god! Children in the workplace! Children living there! People living at the same place where they work! Eating at the same place where they work! It’s a monopoly, like those evil mining towns where you used scrip to buy things at the company store! Evil! Absolute evil, to live at the same place where you work, and it’s against the zoning laws! You’re not allowed to have housing in the exact same spot as a restaurant! It cannot be housing and a business at the same time!

But yet, my restaurant provides housing for its employees, because housing is absolutely essential and it is the one thing people cannot afford. Housing is part of your wages. You are guaranteed housing; however, it is not huge fancy housing, it is small, minimal, tiny housing, on the same spot as the restaurant. And yes, your family can live there with you. So the business, and the workers’ houses, are in exactly the same spot, and it violates about a million laws, and a million people are freaking out, falling down, having conniption fits and strokes about how evil and wrong and illegal this is, in every way, on every level, but I think this is the greatest idea since sliced bread, the best thing that could ever be done, living in the same place where you work.

We have all organic food which meets the general Weston Price quality criteria for traditional processing methods that made food safer to eat and more nourishing.

We also favor dried foods that do not require refrigeration at all. Drying is the ultimate solution to everything. If you want food that isn’t dried, then you must grow your own garden, right there in that very same location, and go out and grab the stuff right away when you want it. You must also slaughter animals on that same location, and the people who just had strokes screaming about it being illegal, have now outright DIED in horror at the thought of having a slaughterhouse in the same location as the restaurant and the same location as the worker’s houses.

It’s all illegal, it’s all the most evil thing that could ever be done, and it’s all the sanest and best most sensible idea that anyone ever thought of. That’s my fantasy.

So I’ve been telling Max that the reason we can’t just walk slowly down a sidewalk to our workplace is because the evil people make laws telling us we can’t. And we have to hurry and rush to work at high speed to get there at an exact time in the clock, because the evil stupid people run the businesses and can’t imagine doing business without worshipping the clock and making everyone show up at exactly the same moment. Max died because of cars. Max died because I was thrown out. Max died because my life was a mess, and my life was a mess because society is a mess, and I am a victim of society.

Little Max is by the tree. When the battery dies, I will go out to the road, maybe, if I feel up to it. I will get the bones, now that I am certain they are Max’s and not a possum’s. I know it is him. I saw his little tiny face, barely recognizable, barely visible with the distortion. He was dried up and mummified and shrunk down smaller, but it was him, his little face with the eyes closed. I am sorry Max. I am sorry you died. I am sorry that you got hit by a car and you went to sleep and did not wake up. I do not want to think about how you must have staggered off the road, or how maybe you got thrown to the side, but I am thankful, very thankful, that at least you were on the side of the road and not in the middle. I got you. I took you home. I found you finally. I called you, but you did not answer.

Little Max, I keep talking to him when I think of him. I pretend he is alive and he is right by me, and I can pet him. He is moving, wagging his tail the way he did. I have taken videos and pictures of him. If I am ready, I can look at those pictures and videos, but I will not do that right now. Not right now. I have videos where he is wagging his tail and walking around.

Denial is a relentless, endless thing. No matter how many times I confront my denial, it just comes right back, almost instantly. I know that Max is dead. I recognized his little face. The body was in the direction where I last saw him going. I know it is him. But then, suddenly, he’s not dead, he can’t be dead, he cannot possibly be dead, that’s just not real. Max didn’t die. Max just wandered off, and he’s out there wandering right now, and he’s just about to come back, looking for me, meowing for food. He will come back, and I will pet him and he will purr. I will pet him, and feed him, and make a little soft place that he can sleep on in my tent. He will curl up and sleep, but he won’t be dead, he will be warm and breathing with his eyes closed. Then he will wake up and move around again.

I think I am ready to walk out there and sweep up the crumbs of his bones, and put them into my shoebox, then pour out the shoebox next to the big tree. I love big trees, huge trees that are hundreds of years old, the tree of eternity, the tree that lives longer than all of us. This tree protects Max’s little body, as he lived such a short time.

I am an atheist, but I desire a shared fantasy with a friend. Rachael and I would have made up our own stories. I liked reincarnation. I was always drawn to the idea of reincarnation. Heaven is boring! Who wants to just go to heaven and then not do anything at all except worship God all day long. I want to come back to life and do it again! I want to try it again, maybe after resting, maybe after I recover from the trauma of my death, maybe when I make peace with what went wrong. But I want so much to come back again. Life is a wonderful, amazing thing. Life is supposed to be a wonderful amazing beautiful thing. I want to do it over and over and over again, in every different place, in every different body, in every different storyline. Sometimes it messes up and goes badly. Other times, it goes amazingly, spectacularly well. Poor little Max just had a short life that ended badly, but maybe next time it won’t.

Okay, I’m ready to get up and go for a little walk, with a shoebox. Right now, in the dark.

That slight bit of doubt, that maybe it was just a possum, not Max

August 27, 2015

7:36 PM 8/27/2015

I actually feel better because I bought a half gallon of Horizon organic whole milk with the DHA added and vitamin D. I don’t have a refrigerator, but I decided to just keep it here at Taco Bell in their fridge until I’m done with it. It won’t take long. I’m drinking a lot of it.

I instantly feel more cheerful just because I am getting more vitamins, even though they are fake vitamins. It would be even better if it was raw milk, but that’s harder to obtain because I have to go to the farmer’s market, which is inconvenient. I never go into town. I also never remember which days the farmer’s market is open. I think it’s open at least two days a week.

The milk and vitamins are making me feel better at work tonight.

I am remembering Max, his little white face as he trotted across the street when I called. Those were the happiest moments, Max coming to me when I called, coming to get his breakfast. He always wanted to be out all night. But he learned to wait for me to call, and I would get up at dawn and go out there (this often required caffeine) to whistle for him. I always thought his little white muzzle was so cute, and for some reason from that position it was very visible, when he was trotting towards me. He meowed as he ran across the street.

I’m not done with Max yet. Over and over, I deny that he’s dead, but it’s very likely it was him.

Meanwhile, Jesse isn’t talking to me as much as I would like. He’s talking to me only intermittently, sometimes answering the phone, and sometimes not. I’m not sure what’s bothering him. I know that he doesn’t like dealing with death, and he doesn’t like it when I am upset or when anything bad is going on in my life.

I did get a nice long phone call with him the other day. He was learning to play chess. He’s doing his military exercise in Yakima, WA, but for a while, he really wasn’t doing anything except sitting there waiting. I don’t know exactly what the exercise is, and he’s probably not supposed to talk about it. He’s in a desert-like area, resembling Afghanistan.

I could not even cuddle Max’s body, because it was in such bad shape by the time I found it. When Alexander died, I was able to sit there petting him and talking to him and crying over him for a while.

With Max, he was so unrecognizable that he had reached the ‘this is just some anonymous object’ phase. I knew it had to be him, I knew it because I felt it, he had white fur but it must have bleached in the sun as he was out in the road (he had pale grey fur with stripes), it looked sort of woolly, but it had been wet and – it had shrunk, the skin. I thought it could be a possum, I hoped, but it didn’t have possum fingers. Possums have little hands, I think, and this one had cat feet. It was a pale colored cat, a very small and very thin cat, just like Max, in the general direction that Max had gone when I last saw him.

The tail looked like a possum tail, except there was fur along it, as though it had fur attached while it was alive. I am still not absolutely 100% certain it was not a possum! That tiny bit of uncertainty makes me just the slightest bit in denial… maybe Max is still out there… but I will try to accept it.

Reminding myself that Max is dead

August 27, 2015

3:04 PM 8/27/2015

I don’t have a lot of time to write. I’m sitting next to work, eating something before I go in.

I am struggling to accept the fact that I found Max’s body. The reason I have any doubt is because it had been there for a little over a week, on the edge of the road, where it was very hot and sunny, so the body dried out and was very hard to recognize. It was just recognizable enough that I could guess it was Max. So I am mostly certain, but there is some slight chance that it could have been some other cat, in theory. However, I believe it was him. That was the direction he was going when I last saw him.

I have so much to say about this, but I can’t say it all in a few short minutes. I actually went to a church yesterday. I was on my way someplace else, and I stopped in a church to go to the bathroom, and I ended up going into the chapel, or whatever it’s called, and I talked to the church, quietly. It was empty and dark.

I cannot believe in God as it’s usually conceived, but I do have beliefs. And emotions defy logic, as I keep thinking of Max, keep denying that he’s dead, keep talking to him after he’s dead. I had to go pick up a piece of mail from Mary Jo’s house yesterday, because apparently, the post office hasn’t gotten around to changing my address yet even though I changed it many days ago. I walked into the neighborhood and was looking for Max in the places where he usually waited for me. He would wait at this house across the street, in the bushes, and would cross the street and come home when I whistled for him. He wanted to be outside most of the time, but would come home to eat.

I kept looking and looking, whispering ‘Max is dead. Max is dead. Max is dead,’ whispering it faster and faster as I looked into the places where he always sat waiting. Then I called ‘come on Max! Come here Max! Maaa-aaaxxx!’ but I was only saying it very quietly so that no one else could hear me, and then I kept saying, ‘Max is dead. Max is dead.’

I picked up the body and brought it home to a big tree near where I am camping. It’s the biggest tree there. I put it next to the big tree. I did the same with Alexander, years ago. I put him next to the biggest tree behind my apartment at the time. I know exactly where he is and I can still see that tree there.

I cannot tell all the reasons why this happened, but I can sum it up. It happened because of powerlessness. I am powerless. I do not own a home that no one can take away from me. Everyone can take away my home or force me to leave it. I need a home that no one can take away from me. Having a house that no one can take away is a form of power. Nobody owns their home because they must always continue paying taxes, so nobody has this power, ever. They must always slave, forever, to make sure they earn enough to pay the taxes on their land, even if their home is completely paid off. There is no such thing as owning a home. Everyone is powerless, deliberately, because the evil system and the evil people who control the world want us all to be powerless forever.

Powerlessness is why I had to leave the apartment. Powerlessness is why I had no place to keep Max. Powerlessness is why Max was taken away from his mother and his siblings in the first place. Cats should not be taken away from their mothers.

Now I have to keep telling myself that Max is dead, over and over, a thousand times a day. I don’t believe it. He isn’t dead. But I tell myself that he is dead, a thousand times, and then, I have to tell it to myself again.

I did the EFT tapping for a long time yesterday, while I was resting. It did not eliminate the trauma, but it soothed me for a while when I was doing it. The trauma came back, obviously, because I keep thinking of Max and telling myself that he is dead. I will just have to do more tapping/massaging.

I have to start getting ready for work soon.

I collected a few more sticks today, but I also took a caffeine pill first. I need to quit the caffeine, and somehow go about collecting sticks anyway, without any caffeine. I can’t transition to being caffeine free while I am working so much and while I have no food. The house of sticks might be a drying house where I store food, I don’t know yet. I also got bark from some dead trees, and the voices are calling the tree bark ‘cardboard.’ That suggests that it might possibly have insulating properties. I try not to break it, but it’s hard to keep the largest pieces from bending and cracking. It’s okay, I can still use it if it breaks a little bit.

I can’t talk about my humiliation and my mistakes. I can only talk about my anger and my powerlessness. I even predicted that this would happen, or might happen, and it did happen, but I didn’t think he would just go die right away, I thought he might run away, but survive in the wild. He ran away, then died right away.

I think that the mind controllers were involved in his death, because they always are involved in everything, but I have no proof. I can only say they were indirectly involved because they are involved in my whole life, and everything I’m doing is because of them. A long chain of events led to his death, and in that sense, the mind controllers were involved.


August 25, 2015

I think I might have found Max’s body, but I’m not sure and I didn’t have time to examine it because I was on my way to work. I was on the way to the bus. I cannot process this right now because I have to work. I will go back to examine the body I found later. I will integrate this into the world because I do not blame myself, I blame the world. But I can’t think too much about it now or I’ll start crying.

“She races,” and, a bunch of ranting about socionics

August 24, 2015

10:51 AM 8/24/2015

My hips improved because I slightly lowered the bike seat. The bike seat height was changed by accident by the people at the bike shop who fixed it. I’ve been having problems getting it back to exactly where it was, and it was making my hips hurt, but they are much better now. I’ve also stopped the caffeine pills and am using regular coffee instead, which is also less bad for my hips, although in the big scheme of things I want to stop caffeine completely and protect my bones even more that way.

As I was saying yesterday, the only problem I have with black people in the workplace is that I have trouble understanding them when they talk, and I sometimes have to ask them to repeat themselves, or they say a bunch of stuff and I get lost and I miss, like, an entire paragraph of what they said, and have absolutely no idea what they’re talking about and I’m like, ‘Yeah!’ in sort of an uncertain way. And they probably get the feeling that I didn’t really understand.

So yes, they do have a different accent, and even if a black person’s accent is as close to my own accent as possible, they still have a slightly differently shaped mouth than white people do, so they have this kind of slur on particular letters, which I can’t describe and have never really made a detailed record of, so I can’t tell you which letters or how exactly they are slurred as a result of the different mouth shape. The African languages are perfectly designed for the African mouth.

The only area where I am truly racist is in the realm of music. I have great difficulty liking any music written or sung by black people. However, I also hate the vast majority of music written by white people, too. I am extremely picky about music, and I hate almost everything, however, I hate closer to 100% of music written by black people, or maybe 99%, whereas I can still find a few things now and then written by white people that I do like. This search for black music hasn’t ended, and someday, when I’m back on the internet again and have tons of free time, I will try once again to look for black music. I can find things that I kind of, sort of, like, or things that are sort of okay, but I don’t find anything that I *absolutely love* written or sung by black people. This is an unintentional racism, which I feel against my will. If I had my way, then of course I would love music written by black people – I just can’t find any. I can’t help how my emotions respond to music.

But I wasn’t going to write about racism for this entire blog. I am at home, at the tent, drinking Starbucks coffee, frappuccinos. I miss Max. I am still thinking of the reasons why I lost him. I know the reasons, I know the causes. Powerlessness was the main cause. I am powerless when I have no money, and when I am renting a home from someone who has the power to make me leave. I am powerless when someone forces me to do something by a particular date, instead of doing it whenever I am ready.

The closest thing I can think of to finding a song that I love, by black people, was ‘Halo’ by Beyonce. She is not really black, but several mixed races. I loved the song enough to play it over and over, buy it, memorize the words, and sing it in my car. However, I did get tired of it after a while, and there are some things about the song that I would want to fix. I actually don’t like the chorus and how repetitive it is. I also don’t like it that the song is not ‘acoustic,’ but electronic. It’s played on electronic instruments and synthesizers, so it has the perfectly square beats. I would want it to be played on real instruments, and, of course, recorded on an analog recording medium instead of a digital one. Analog is the only way to catch the nuances of the high pitches on things like violin strings. Digital recording just chops all of that stuff out, leaving a dead sound.

I can write until the battery runs out.

Today will be my fourth day of work, and I am already exhausted. I am now eating very badly, because I have no refrigerator. I am eating at restaurants, and eating any food that can be kept at room temperature at home, which is junk food.

I would love to eat dried foods. Drying is a universal method of preserving foods for room temperature storage. However, I can’t get something like raw milk in dried form. Cheese spoils unless it’s specifically intended to be kept at room temperature. Cheese might possibly be able to survive at those temperatures underground, 55 degrees or whatever, in the cellar, in a cave, and 55 degrees is higher than a refrigerator, and 55 degrees is achievable here at the campground if I make an underground hole or if I immerse something into the creek. I haven’t taken a thermometer and measured the temperature of the creek yet, but it will surely be somewhere around 60 degrees or something.

I am curious to see if there is any music written by the blackest African imaginable, a pureblooded Nigerian or something, any African race, it doesn’t matter which, it could by Pygmy Polyphony (they really do polyphony), that I would love so much I wanted to play the song over and over forever. It would have to meet all my strict musical criteria.

There’s a lady at work who I think is a SLE/ESTP, and she’s been much grumpier than usual. She always did like doing things ‘the proper way,’ and would constantly tell people they were doing things wrong. She was always just a bit hard to get along with. But now she is *even worse* than she ever was before. EVERYTHING IS WRONG. She was driving me and everyone else crazy yesterday. We were talking about her. One of the black guys said to me, ‘She races.’ I said, ‘She…. races?’ (I had just read a comment in a socionics forum about how all the SLEs could be found at the mini racetracks. It did kind of make sense. I had even seen a lady and her family, and the lady acted like a SLE, at McDonald’s, playing the racetrack video game!) ‘She’s RACIST,’ he said. ‘Oh! Yeah! Yeah, I bet she is,’ I said. It must be driving her insane to be surrounded by black people at work. As for me, my main problem is not being able to understand what they say and asking them to repeat themselves, but that happens to me with anyone who has an accent, like Nam at McDonald’s, from Korea, and Peng, from Thailand. Some accents are easier to understand than others. I could understand the Russian guys well enough without asking them to repeat themselves.

Jacob greets me when I come home. He meows a bunch of times while I talk to him. I call for him, I whistle for him, I sing little songs, I pick him up and hug him. He is left all alone all day when I go to work. If it’s warm enough outside, he will sit in the woods and watch the path where people walk, the path I come home on.

I have little songs I sang for Minimax. I need to sing them into the video recorder so that I won’t forget them. Little lullabies – ‘Minimax needs a nap…… Minimax needs a nap,’ and
‘Minimacaroni!…. Minimacaroni!’ Silly little songs. I called him ‘Minimax’ because ‘Max’ usually means big and strong, but Max is tiny and skinny, so he’s mini-max. Then, it turns out ‘minimax’ is a real word. It means something like, the least bad of all the worst case scenarios, or something like that. Because I started calling him ‘Minimax,’ I started calling Jacob ‘Minijacob,’ just to be funny. So now, Jacob is now permanently Minijacob, and that’s what I usually call him. I also called Max ‘Mackey,’ instead of ‘Maxi,’ because Maxi sounds like maxi-pad. Mary Jo sometimes called him Maxi, or Maxillator.

I am so… dead… tired. I clearly have malnutrition now, in addition to just fatigue from working. And, I was working the temp job where I could just sit all day at a computer, and you’d think that was nice, but…. it wasn’t. I don’t like to be unproductive. I don’t like the university. I don’t like it that my job is to prevent people from cheating on their tests, when in all honesty, I truly cannot make myself care if they are cheating, and I never tried very hard to stop them.

There was one guy who was cheating, blatantly, one time, and we caught him, but I’m not the one who caught him. Another lady happened to look at the camera and saw that he was pulling up the leg of his shorts to see something written on a paper there. He had also been looking at the guy next to him, and the guy came to us and complained and wanted to be moved to a different computer. The guy was blatantly copying off him.

My whole reaction to this was not to judge him, but to want to understand. I wanted to know why he was cheating. The other people reported him to his teacher, but he came back to the testing center again for later tests. One time, he walked in, then walked out about a minute later without taking the test. I asked him if everything was okay, and he told me that he had signed up for too many classes and was overloaded, and was just giving up on some of them. Explanation! I had done the same thing, except I never cheated, I just gave up before even trying to cheat. I gave up on a bunch of classes because I was having problems in school, problems with life in general. I sympathized with him and felt sorry for him, rather than judging him. I truly cannot make myself care about cheating, because when people cheat, it only makes me start wondering, ‘Why are they cheating? What needs to be done to help them with their problems? Why isn’t anyone helping them? What kind of pressure are they under? What’s going on in their lives?’

In socionics, I would prefer to use my valued +Fi in my 6th function, rather than my disvalued -Fi in my fourth function (in Model B, my fourth function is +Fe/-Fi together). -Fi is a ‘judging people for being immoral’ function. +Fi is a ‘understand the individual person’s life and how they feel individually’ function. +Fi is valued in Delta, and -Fi is disvalued (in Model B – the usual socionics models don’t break them down into plus and minus signs, and they merely say that ‘Fi’ is valued in Delta, but that doesn’t make it clear enough exactly what Fi is and why we seem to like some manifestations of Fi, but not others. That’s why I like the pluses and minuses.) In Model B, -Fi is used by the ethical types in both Gamma and Beta.

+Fi is also capable of judging a person’s morality, but it judges them individually, one person at a time, instead of as a group or as an abstraction. With -Fi, it’s an entire group of people who are doing something bad or good. It’s an entire abstract category, for instance, ‘everyone who cheats on their wife.’ They would have a label such as…. I’m unable to think of anything right now. They also have other abstract labels for general roles in society, such as ‘Parent,’ ‘Teacher,’ and other things where a person is in a particular *relationship* with another person, except it’s an abstract general class of relationships with -Fi. So ‘teachers’ in the abstract, ‘parents’ in the abstract, ‘mothers,’ ‘fathers,’ ‘nurses,’ etc, associated with all the morals that those groups of people are supposed to follow in that relationship. There are rules for how those groups of people are supposed to relate to their students, their children, their spouses, their patients, etc.

+Fi, on the other hand, is our specific individual relationship with each other. I know a guy and his name is Jesse, and he is a specific individual, rather than a whole abstract class of people or an abstract relationship in society. Jesse and I can know each other’s likes and dislikes and we can judge each other individually and make our own rules for our own specific relationship, and this is +Fi.

My battery will run out sometime, and also, there’s gonna be a thunderstorm. I don’t know when the thunderstorm is coming. I’ll need to make sure my stuff doesn’t get wet.

In reality, the brain functions are going to be these sorts of specific clusters or sometimes things that overlap. They won’t necessarily fall exactly into the general categories created by Jung and used by Myers-Briggs and socionics. That’s why I want to use a brain scanner like Dario Nardi has, except, unlike Dario Nardi, I won’t mislabel people with the J/P switch (a whole issue I will have to write about later – OOH I hate the J/P switch with a passion! My mortal enemy.)

Jung’s observations were that people seem to prefer either sensing or intuition to *perceive* the world, to see it and understand it and explain it, and that they seem to prefer either feeling or thinking to *judge* the world, to make decisions. He also observed that they tend to be either mostly extraverted or introverted. He also observed that they tend to prefer either perceiving most of the time, or judging most of the time. I think he used the word ‘rational’ for judgers and ‘irrational’ for perceivers, which was taken and used in socionics, but Isabel Myers changed the word to ‘judging’ and ‘perceiving.’

So, Isabel Myers took this and made it into the Myers-Briggs test. You get tested for sensing/intuition (S/N), thinking/feeling (T/F), judging/perceiving (J/P), and introvert/extravert (I/E). I am ISTP (SLI in socionics).

However, there are a lot of things wrong with the test, and a huge number of people get mistyped. Just because people get mistyped doesn’t mean that the whole system is useless or that personality types don’t exist, it only means that a better method of testing needs to be devised. This is why in the long run I want to buy an EEG cap like Dario Nardi’s and observe the patterns myself, and make my own tests, because I am frustrated with *ALL* the tests in all the systems, both in socionics and in Myers-Briggs. Most of the tests mislabel me as an Intuitive, and I thought I was an intuitive for many years, and thought something was wrong with me because I wasn’t able to do all the things that intuitives are supposed to be able to do. After I learned socionics, I discovered I was a sensor absolutely for sure, although I had already been calling myself an ISFP (a feeler, not a thinker) for a while before that.

I changed my type many times until I got into socionics. There is no error-checking method in the Myers-Briggs sytem. However, in socionics, you can error-check your type by interacting with OTHER types and seeing the intertype relations. Who is your dual? who is your conflictor? Who is your superego? Who is your activator? and so on. As you see which types you get along with the best, you can narrow down which type you are.

‘Getting along with’ particular types of people doesn’t mean you always agree and never disagree about anything. It *merely* means that you have a certain kind of comfort with their thinking style, that you can talk with them most easily, that you understand them most easily with the least amount of psychological pain and strain. If you talk to your socionic conflictor, it doesn’t mean you are constantly fighting with them or having outright conflicts that everyone can see, or that you’re constantly shouting at each other. It merely means that you feel this constant, painful, exhausting strain as you struggle to understand what the hell they are talking about, struggle to understand their emotions and thoughts, struggle to understand how they see things, because their entire way of seeing things and judging things is in direct conflict with your own way.

A few weeks ago I went to Honda to find out about buying a car. I just wanted to get a general idea of what I would need to do. The car salesman I talked to was an EIE/ENFJ, my socionic conflictor. I was able to hear what he was saying to me, but he was talking so fast, and I was straining all of my entire brain to go as fast as I possibly could, at maximum speed, using my weakest functions and trying to translate them into my own ‘language.’ It was a painful strain. I spent quite a few minutes with him as he explained about the car buying process, and I did come away with a general idea of what I would need to do in the long run to get started buying a car again (after not having one for many years, as I’m riding my bike or the bus now). He and I liked each other well enough and we were polite to each other, but it was just an exhausting strain struggling to even understand what the hell he was talking about. He was truly speaking a different language.

Meanwhile, with your socionic dual, you don’t necessarily have instant attraction or fall in love instantly (although that *can* happen, if a lot of other factors match up perfectly). What you feel, instead, is a level of comfort and familiarity and acceptance with this person. You feel relaxed, you know you can be yourself, you know you can say what you want to say without fearing it will be misunderstood. Without socionics, most people learn how to recognize ‘their type’ of people, but they can’t put a label on exactly what it is. With socionics, you have a handy label for it, and you’re able to make it into a system, for instance, a dating website where everyone’s type is visible and you can instantly reach out and grab a bunch of duals and start dating them without the hassle of getting to know people over and over and finding out they are stupid and/or totally incompatible and/or annoying. It’s possible to find stupid/annoying duals too, but even *they* will be less annoying to you than stupid/annoying Extinguisher relations, or stupid/annoying Supervision relations, or whatever. You can still kind of get along with a stupid/annoying dual, in a very general way. It just won’t be guaranteed Love At First Sight.

I have this VERY GENERAL observation, which has been echoed on the PersonalityCafe forum, which is also something the voices in my head were saying. The absolute most general thing that many people might observe easily is that judgers and perceivers don’t usually get along. In socionics, you have quadras, and there are both perceivers and judgers in your quadra, but the worst relations *within* your quadra are between the judgers and perceivers, too. Mary Jo was an LSE/ESTJ, my socionics ‘Mirror’ relation. I definitely had a lot of conflicts with her. However, the socionics patterns still fit – we were able to have a relaxed conversation with each other, and understand each other comfortably, without strain. That is what socionics is really about – how much strain, or comfort, there is when you interact with a person.

You can still be mostly comfortable with, for instance, Extinguishers or Superego relations. I’m quite comfortable with some of them and I like them a lot. However, there will be particular kinds of disagreements that just absolutely can never be resolved no matter what. You just will never, ever, ever win this battle, no matter how long you try, no matter how much you argue. Most of the time, that doesn’t matter. Most of the time, you just do the best you can, and you usually avoid major disagreements. You can ignore most of the disagreements most of the time.

The reason I mentioned the ‘judgers/perceivers’ don’t get along, as an extremely general rule, is because, that might even override socionic quadras. If I had my way, I might feel more comfortable in a workplace with no judgers at all in it, even if I was with all four of the other quadras, only their perceivers. I might actually *prefer* to be with the superegos and extinguishers in the Beta quadra, rather than the LSEs in my own quadra (and an LSE in one of the socionics forum mentioned that she, too, had bad experiences with mirror relations, even though they were in her own quadra), just because they are perceivers rather than judgers. The perceiver/judger differences might actually be bigger and more important than the socionic quadras. Now, this is not necessarily so, it is just a theory that I have, and I could be wrong.

I want to design an intentional community based on socionics. Since it is only my small community, it is not the same as if the government required everyone to be typed and then put somewhere based on type.

Note: according to legend, sometimes random types are born from different parents – for instance, you might have an LSE and ESE who give birth to an IEI (this was a real example from someone who made youtube videos). Do all of them come from extramarital affairs? I don’t know. It’s possible that *sometimes* these children come from extramarital affairs, but yet, we have to consider the possibility that sometimes they really do come from their own parents within the family, without an outsider. Your children’s types *DO TEND* to follow their parents’ types. But a lot of anecdotes say that sometimes seemingly random types are born that violate the pattern.

This actually is kind of a failsafe. If the government ever typed people and then said, ‘We are going to put all the ISTPs into a concentration camp and kill them because they are rebellious people who hate the system’ (which is true!) ‘and also all perceivers in general because all perceivers are just worthless and lazy
unproductive people,’ well, that would be a bad idea because the judger parents who were randomly giving birth to perceiver children would instinctively want to protect their own children. The judgers rule society and make all the laws and all the systems. They pretty much rule the entire planet. But if they made a rule that all perceivers will be killed in concentration camps, then some of their own children would be at risk if they really did sometimes give birth to random types that were very different from their parents’ types.

In history, people who cause genocides are usually LSI/ISTJ. However, not all LSIs go around causing genocides. They only do if they are in the highest position of power, and if something really big is going on with cultural trends and the general atmosphere, *AND ALSO* if they are using deadly toxic recreational drugs that make people become crazy, murderous, and sociopathic.

All of Hitler’s people (*NOTE! Hitler is not usually typed as LSI! He is often typed as EIE or some other type. There are other genocidal dictators who were LSIs.*) were using a particular kind of drug, I just don’t remember which drug, maybe several drugs like cocaine and heroin. Any drug that turns people into soulless murderers on the individual level will also turn them into soulless genocidalists when they are in the highest position of power in society, if other factors are simultaneously encouraging that.

My battery’s on its way down.

I’m too tired to do anything at home today. I really hope I feel better on my days off, so that I can do some more stick-collecting and do all the stuff at home I need to do!

Dario Nardi, and others, observed that people start to resemble their socionic activators over time. We prefer to use our super-id functions, the valued desirable weak functions, instead of our superego functions, the weak but disvalued ones. I remember, I already started doing that in my teens. I started trying to learn how to use my 6th function, +Fi/-Fe, to understand individual people, to understand their feelings and emotions and to see their point of view. I began studying psychology at an early age and thought that I might become a therapist. An IEE/ENFP or EII/INFJ is a very good therapist, so I was seeking to use my valued weak functions and become better at them. As we get older, we do really get better at those weak functions, although we never learn to use them at extremely high speed like a master level user would do. We never gain the competence of others who have those in their strong ego functions, but we become moderately okay at those functions.

I just got the ‘your battery’s gonna die’ message.

a socionic problem between some coworkers (not me)

August 24, 2015

4:51 PM 8/23/2015

I’m on lunch break. I have to make sure to actually ask for a break and insist strongly that I want one.

I like Glenn a lot. My coworker Glenn, I believe, is an ILI/INTP. There are two managers who are harassing him. One of them is his conflictor (ESE/ESFJ), although actually *she* wasn’t harassing him as aggressively as the LSE/ESTJ (his supervisee in socionics). They were both going on about him today. The LSE was trying to get him to sign a paper where he was being written up for not having the proper uniform on. He was outside sweeping without his hat on, or something. She was saying if he doesn’t sign it, he’ll be fired. He’s a really good employee, and everyone likes him except those two (although the store manager, LSI/INTJ (his benefactor in socionics) also doesn’t really like him. I do not want them to get him fired.

The two managers, ESE and LSE, were both driving me, and everyone, crazy this morning. The ESE insisted we could not sweep the floor because Glenn had the blue broom outside and was using it, and we are only allowed to sweep the back room with a blue broom, because the yellow brooms are for the front. The purpose of this is to prevent extremely dirty, greasy brooms from being used out in the lobby, where the grease will spread and make people slip and fall. But if the broom is clean enough, there is no reason not to use a broom anywhere you want, as long as you don’t get it greasy. She didn’t understand this reason, but instead insisted we must blindly follow the rule without understanding why the rule exists and without making an exception for this situation, since we weren’t going to be sweeping through pools of grease. Nope. We must wait and wait and wait, 45 minutes while Glenn sweeps outside.

Meanwhile, Glenn kept sweeping outside deliberately BECAUSE HE WAS AVOIDING THE TWO CRAZY BITCHES who were bothering him. And he succeeded – he out-waited them, and finally came back inside after they left. Some more sensible, sane, realistic employees decided to sweep with yellow brooms anyway even though it wasn’t allowed.

It was as though the ESE wanted to deliberately make everyone mad at Glenn – ‘See? We had to wait an hour for the broom and no one could sweep and it’s all Glenn’s fault.’ She wouldn’t even let us use a different broom – nope, we’ve all gotta be even madder at Glenn for hogging the blue broom outside (but in reality, no one else was mad at him, in fact, we all thought the two crazy bitches were being unreasonable).

The worst thing about the LSE is that she’s new here and doesn’t even really know what she’s doing yet, and it’s as though she’s trying to ‘make her mark’ by getting rid of ‘bad people’ that nobody else has the courage to get rid of, or something. But Glenn is *really good*.

There seem to be a lot of Alpha quadra people here, and some Betas. It’s a surprisingly large number of Alphas, I think. I’ve even seen someone who I think might possibly be an LII/INTJ.

Also, no matter how hard they try, the voices in my head have failed to make me become a racist. We have a bunch of black people working here now, and my only problem is that I have difficulty understanding when they talk.

Being deaf means I couldn’t hear Max

August 23, 2015

10:24 AM 8/23/2015

I don’t have a lot of time to write this morning. I have to go to work at 11:30 am today, but it’s only for one day. I’m covering the shift of someone who stopped showing up for work, which is normal at Taco Bell. If I had noticed that I was scheduled for an 11:30 am shift, I probably would have said no, but I wasn’t paying attention. Going to work from 11:30 to 8:30 ruins my whole day. It ruins the morning before work, and it ruins the evening after work. It makes it so I can get absolutely nothing done and have no life at all.

I was hearing voices about something – about Max. ‘They’ noticed yesterday that I’m deaf. I do have a small amount of hearing damage. I was having trouble hearing customers at the front counter. I have a couple things going on – probably ear canal deformities associated with the jaw deformities, and also swelling which increases when you eat salicylate. I am able to hear high frequencies that I’m not supposed to be able to hear, but I can’t hear the frequency range of human speech very well. (I had my hearing tested years ago and this is what they told me.) I also had a bit of hearing damage in one ear years ago.

So I was at work, having a hard time hearing the customers when I took their orders. This made ‘the voices’ talk about Max and about how I wasn’t sure if I could hear him meowing after he got lost. When he is stuck outside for too long, he will go somewhere and meow over and over again, and – I used to go out and find him if I could. He would sometimes get in a fight with another cat in the night. I thought I could hear him, but it also sounded like auditory distortion behind the background noise of the cars driving on the highway. I wasn’t sure if it was real meowing or not. I didn’t go looking for him.

But the voices said that since I’m deaf, maybe I could be forgiven for not hearing him when he was meowing. They made it sound like ‘they’ would make him come back to me. If I had a house for him to live in, he might be more willing to come back.

In the long run if I built a ‘stealth house’ on land that I don’t own, it should ideally be in a place that’s even more remote, so that people aren’t finding it and telling me I’m not allowed to live there, which is inevitable.

I really feel like I’m wasting my day by going to work early in the morning and not being able to do the stuff I was doing at home in the morning. I’m still settling into my camp. I need to make it warmer, and I might need to buy a few things too. I need to make Jacob comfortable as it gets cold.

Okay, I really have to finish this up and leave. I’m at the diner eating breakfast. Oh, I *hate* working at TB in the morning. I did it in the past, but only because I had to, not because I enjoyed it. My battery is gonna die too. I have no place to plug this in. TB isn’t as nice about letting me plug in a bunch of electronics in the office. We don’t have a break room for employees. Last night they told me to put my belongings out in a particular place in the dishwashing room, and somebody dumped a bunch of hot sauces onto my backpack. Grr. I will not put them there again. It was next to the trash can. I was trying to hide it away so that no one would throw away my garbage bag, which contained some of my clothes.

I … hate…. work. ….. I have to leave!

I need to build a house of sticks. I want to work for myself. I want a drying room, which will be over hot coals. ‘Smoking’ food only was developed because it was the best way to keep the air dry, and not because of some fancy-schmancy preservatives in the smoke. The smoke itself is unimportant, only the dryness and the protection against insects. I need a drying room with hot coals, and I need an off-the-grid hot shower. 🙂 My hot shower might be a cauldron warmed over the fire. I need tons of insulation in the walls and floor. I need to work FOR MYSELF.

I want a sustainable house of sticks, and a treehouse

August 22, 2015

1:58 PM 8/22/2015

I have this arrogant feeling right now. I feel superior and contemptful (how do you say ‘feeling contempt towards others?). Contemptuous?

I was just thinking today that my way of doing things gets fast results, for free, without all this ‘science’ and ‘design’ and ‘technology’ and millions of dollars spent on designing sustainable architecture. I am sort of anti-design.

I started walking around in the woods picking up sticks and making them into a pile. I’m going to start using the sticks for all kinds of stuff, such as making a small shack, building fires, or making tools out of sticks.

I was really proud of myself for making a pile of sticks, but I have a lot more work to do. It’s very hard to explain what I am feeling and thinking. The pride that I feel in that pile of sticks is very strong. I’m more proud of that pile of sticks than I am of the dollars I earn at my jobs. I’m more proud of those serviceberries that I dried and am still eating than I am of all the food I buy at the store with money.

There is this idea that sustainable architecture requires some kind of fancy, science-y ‘design.’ It’s not enough to just throw together a pile of sticks that you collected off the forest floor for free. No, you have to *look wealthy* while being sustainable, so it has to cost millions of dollars and it has to be designed by a professional architect. It has to be a place which is so fancy and so
wealthy-looking that you could throw a party there and nobody would know that it was ‘sustainable.’ It requires effort and planning to figure out how on earth you’re going to get all these supplies and materials in a ‘sustainable’ way. All the pieces of wood have to be neatly cut and fit together perfectly and be rectangular. You can’t just pick up a half-rotten stick which will be strong enough for your purposes – no, everything must be perfect.

That is against my way of doing things. I can get started building a sustainable house right now. I don’t need to pay an architect. ‘Oh, but that’s not good enough! No one wants to live in a shack!’

I would like to make an elf-like treehouse, too. That’s why I searched for those google images of elf treehouses that I put the links to up above. Those were examples of someone making a new, expensive, fancy, sciency design that costs millions of dollars and never actually gets built, although they make a lot of nice pictures on paper or on the computer.

I am actually anti-novelty, and I can use Model B in socionics to explain which type of novelty that I don’t like. Novelty has its place, but when overused, it is annoying. Novelty would be fine if we already had all our other needs taken care of and could afford to waste time and money on pointless fancy things for fun.

My house of sticks is going to be my ‘magnum opus,’ which is a word I learned from ‘Charlotte’s Web,’ except that Charlotte died shortly after making her magnum opus, and I don’t want to die, and also, I expect to make even better magnum opuses in the future (‘opae?’ ‘opusae?’ opuses?). This pile of sticks is the best thing I’ve ever made so far. It’s maybe not as good as the little song that I wrote with Propellerhead Reason, but it will be in a different category of creations.

I have disdain for the people who are afraid of the house of sticks. They’ve got to have the fancy schmancy sciency looking sustainable architecture for millions of dollars because they are terrified to actually live anywhere near nature for real. Soft, soggy, half rotten sticks covered with lichen are terrifying to them. Not a spot of lichen anywhere to be found on those sciency designs.

Sure, those wealthy designers have a great life, and my life sucks, and they get paid millions of dollars, and they have families, and their lives aren’t an endless series of disasters like my life is, and they get to travel all over the world if they want to. They have a great life. But I have disdain for them, because my way of doing things will give all of the common people everything they need for free, immediately, in the shortest possible time. A house of sticks can be built for free in a couple days, if you only make something that will block the rain and the insects, and make you feel safe from bears and other animals, and give you enough space to walk around in, and do stuff like cooking, and drying foods, and nothing more than that.

All the starving, struggling people on earth cannot afford this million-dollar ‘sustainable architecture design,’ which is made for the wealthiest people. They need sustainable shacks made for free out of sticks they picked up by themselves in the forest, or made out of mud and local materials, whatever is available in the region.

I need to get ready for work soon, but I have a little while left yet. I’m at the diner in Hills Plaza.

The ‘sustainable architecture’ design stuff makes it seem as though nobody else ever knew how to make sustainable house designs before, as though people weren’t already doing that exact thing for millions of years until civilization butted in and forced them to live on little rectangles of land that somebody paid a million dollars for and built a McMansion on and then charged $2,000 a month to rent a single room in that McMansion, and told people that it was illegal to build any house smaller than a McMansion because the people who make the zoning laws are the same people who get rich from all the real estate in the area. They want to raise the prices of the land and the houses so they themselves can get richer, and they make the zoning laws so that everything everywhere becomes more and more expensive, and they don’t care what happens to poor people, ordinary people, or people with chronic health problems (like me) who aren’t able to work as hard as other people or maintain mental focus as well as other people can, and therefore can’t afford a $2,000 McMansion room.

No, like I was saying, they make it sound like ‘sustainable
architecture’ is a whole new invention. Actually, sustainable architecture is what people were doing before civilization butted in and told them it was illegal to make sustainable architecture. So now, they have to make this ‘new’ sustainable architecture where it will still look like a multi-billionaire lives in that house, and they will charge $5,000 a month to live there because it’s even *more* expensive now that it’s ‘sustainable.’

Yesterday I bought some instant coffee again, so that I will stop making my hips hurt. I was taking these weird, generic brand caffeine pills from Rite-Aid, and the chemical formula of all the generic brands of drugs varies slightly, so that one type of caffeine pill is slightly different from another type of caffeine pill. This one particular kind made my hips hurt a lot. My hips will stop hurting as soon as I stop using the pills and drastically cut back on the caffeine.

It’s very unusual for me to try to build something out of sticks. I haven’t done that before. This was sort of like giving up, in a way. But, also, I didn’t build anything on Mt. Nittany in all the years I was there, because I contaminated the soil all around the area where I was camping, and because I was always so exhausted merely from walking up the mountain. I have to go up and down some small hills now, but it’s nothing compared to Mt. Nittany, and so I am not exhausted all the time. (I wasn’t going to the top of Mt. Nittany, but even just going up Mt. Nittany Road in Lemont with my bike was hard enough.)

I am really happy to be doing this and I hope I don’t give up on the project. I hope I don’t become too tired from overworking. I hope I don’t become too preoccupied with earning money instead of making something for myself, for free, which won’t earn any money. My only fear would be that someone would come over there and tell me I’m not allowed to live in my house of sticks in the woods, which could very well happen – that kind of thing happens all the time. I’m ruining the real estate market for everybody else by living for free and not paying rent to the wealthy landowners. I might even inspire other renters and land buyers to do the same, thereby undermining the entire real estate market and violating all the zoning laws even more. The whole economy would collapse if we all did that! I’m a terrible person! I must be stopped.

I do need to get ready for work now. It takes a while to get ready.

Basic idea: a disdain for the hyper-wealthy ‘sustainable
architecture,’ even though I must admit it does look neat. It’s cool, yes, but I can do ‘sustainable architecture’ for free, by myself, right now, and in only a couple days have my own house for free. Nothing needs to be invented and I don’t have to go to school for that or get paid millions of dollars to design something.

I have more to say, but no time, so I’ll post it now.

I woke up with Jacob curled up on top of my chest. That’s another reason I need a house of sticks. I need something more warm and secure than the tent, so that my cat will be able to live there. He was cold. I let him into the edge of the sleeping bag and after that he was okay.

Having Jacob there with me makes it easier to do the work of hunting for sticks. I have a companion. Mere company is all that’s needed to make me able to do work! They don’t have to help, they don’t have to say anything, they just have to be there and be comfortable with me. I didn’t feel as lonely doing the work because Jacob was sitting there watching me walking around picking up sticks.

There is all this weird poison ivy, which might be poison oak, I don’t know, but the veins on the leaves are sort of netted rather than feathered out from the central spine. It’s atypical poison ivy. I really would like to talk more about the land there. The soil is black and filled with *millions* of giant earthworms the size of snakes. All you have to do is scrape a stick across the ground and a dozen giant snake-worms start squiggling in all directions. I think Jacob has poison ivy. He’s been itching, although he was also itching before we moved into the woods. I wish I could give him real food instead of bags of cat food from the grocery store and the canned food. I’d give him the raw meat diets if I could.

I do love the land there. I have a creek! I have stones. I have sticks. I have a giant tree that needs an elf house. I have… poison ivy, but oh well. I have earthworms. I have walnuts. Having a creek is the best part. I was nowhere near any creeks on Mt. Nittany. This is actually a *huge* luxury. I feel very wealthy just because I have a creek running nearby! You cannot even imagine how wonderful it is to have my own creek! I remember how hard it was on Mt. Nittany.

I forgot to post this yesterday. I think I heard bears or bobcats in the woods

August 22, 2015

1:04 PM 8/21/2015

It’s very hard to concentrate while using the internet now, because I’m sitting in public places using the wifi. I’m at a restaurant now.

I just got rehired at Taco Bell, and I’m going to work there this afternoon.

My tent is a mess. I just set up a second tent, and I will never buy that particular kind of tent again. I’m calling it ‘The Avant-Garde Tent.’ It’s some bizarro design which is totally impractical. It has two arches, and the tent stretches between the two arches. So it’s kind of a tube.

It was probably supposed to be lightweight for backpacking (a google search said it was popular with backpackers), but it is not what I need at all, and I can tell that it’s going to collapse if I even look at it the wrong way. Nothing holds up the two arches except for strings going to the ground. It’s going to collapse and then floods of rainwater are going to come in through the mesh, and it just so happens that the entire thing is all mesh on top, and it has a rain fly over it, but whenever it collapses, if I have a tarp over it, the flood of water collecting on the tarp will just go right around the rain fly after it’s collapsed and go right into the tent. I know from experience that I will always have to have a tarp over it because rain will just go right through everything, and anyway, it’s this bright peach color, and I want it to be camouflaged.

So I set up the avant-garde tent last night, and I will move some of my stuff into there so I can sort through it. I don’t have enough room in my other tent with all the stuff in there.

I thought there were bobcats in that area. On one of the last few nights I swear I heard the screaming, and I know that bobcats scream the same way cougars do. The patch of woods is too small for something rare like cougars to actually be in there, so it has to be bobcats. You have to watch out for bobcats too – don’t trap them in small places, don’t battle with them directly, and if they’re starving, they might attack you, but it’s unusual. It does sometimes happen. I want to get a decent stick to carry, but, believe it or not, finding a decent stick, while living in the woods, is not as easy as it sounds. All the sticks are rotten, so they just crumble if you carry them and wave them around. I only have small knives at the moment so it’s hard to cut off a live branch, so I can only try to find relatively fresh branches on the ground. I just need a self-defense stick like what I used to carry on Mt. Nittany.

And I could be wrong, but I *swear* I heard the sound of a BEAR smashing through the woods the other night. It was far enough away that I couldn’t be sure. A bear makes this rhythmic smashing crashing noise. I think it swipes its paws back and forth through the leaves on the ground as it walks, looking for something under the leaves, I forget what, maybe mushrooms, maybe roots, whatever bears eat. It goes smash smash whack! smash smash whack! Sometimes it hits a rock, and the rock flies up into the air and hits a tree and makes a loud crack. I don’t know exactly how it makes all these noises, but I know they are extremely noisy, like a train going through the woods. I *swear* I heard that in the middle of the night a couple nights ago.

The reason I am shocked is because the wooded area that I am in really isn’t very huge. It’s just a medium-small wooded park area. Walnut Springs park connects with Thompson Woods park and also with Lederer park. I do remember one time that a bear came down and attacked Joe Jovinelly’s rabbits and ripped open the cages, and that duckpond house is right on the edge of these very same woods, but I assumed that that bear wandered off of Mt. Nittany and was out of its normal range. Maybe it wasn’t!

Bobcats can be raised as pets, and there are youtube videos of people doing it. However, meeting wild unfriendly bobcats in the middle of the night, when they aren’t expecting you, is scary.

upset stomach; changing my mind about what I will do and how

August 19, 2015

1:33 PM 8/19/2015

I’m at the India Pavilion trying to eat the lunch buffet, but my stomach is very irritated today. I was having diarrhea this morning. I think it’s because of something I ate yesterday, this canned coconut milk stuff. I think I got that from the food bank. But I’m still sick and can’t really eat. I also had a caffeine pill this morning, and that tends to make my stomach upset too.

So I may have to leave without finishing this meal, which *really* bothers me.

Last night was the second night I slept in the tent. (My ‘i’ key isn’t working very well, so there are a lot of times when I’m skipping the ‘i’ because I press it and nothing happens.) I still haven’t seen Max since Monday morning, when I first let him out of the cat carrier. But I’m not crying today. I cried yesterday.

I hate leaving Jacob there alone. He must be bored, depressed, and lonely. It’s a peaceful wooded area, and there are cars and houses not too far away. But he’s used to living at Mary Jo’s house, where other people are coming and going, and he gets to see other cats, and if he goes outside, there are other cats out there, too. However, one of them used to attack him because he doesn’t have claws, and that made me very angry. What kind of moron declaws a cat.

Jacob wants to follow me if I walk on the trail. He followed me yesterday when I walked around calling for Max. But after walking for a while, he stops and just plops down on the ground and won’t go any farther. His feet must hurt badly. He is declawed, so he is missing the entire fingertip of his front paws, not just the claw itself. He is also very, very fat, so he’s putting all that weight down on those little stub paws. Then he meows for me, until I feel guilty and have to stop walking and make sure that he gets back home.

I’m writing so that I can sit here eating really, really slowly, increasing the chances that I can eat more of my food instead of wasting it.

My mind is reorganizing things. I am processing trauma. Part of me feels some relief to be camping. I don’t have to worry about rent. However, other parts of me still feel very, very hopeless. Everything I have tried to do has failed, over and over, but I can’t stop trying. I always go back to getting a job and working again, trying to earn money and save it, trying to improve my life, and then losing all the money because of various disasters. And I’m about to try that exact thing over again.

I’m not happy about something to do with Manpower. I looked at those online courses, and they were absolute garbage. This was several months ago. I wanted to do the online courses for bookkeeping and accounting, but it was that stupid shit where you watch a little slideshow of stock photos, vague images and symbols, instead of actually *practicing* what you need to learn. You get to watch this skyscraper that symbolizes ‘a big business,’ and an image of a page with a bunch of numbers written on it, which symbolizes ‘the bookkeeping job you are going to do, or bookkeeping in general.’ You get to watch a stock photo of people in business suits shaking hands. And you listen to this audio droning things that are meaningless that you have to just memorize without actually doing them or practicing them.

Then, the pages were badly designed, so that they didn’t fit my small screen resolution. There were buttons down below the bottom of the screen that I absolutely could not reach, because it was one of those abnormal special web pages that have no scrollbar, and you cannot grab anything, move anything, or adjust anything. It just puts itself into the middle of your tiny screen, and you have no chance of reaching the buttons far below the bottom, since you can’t increase your screen resolution any more. Any online tutorial designed like that, I will not touch with a ten foot pole.

I *do* blame Manpower for not having a decent way to increase my skills. I didn’t go to Manpower because I wanted to continue working in fast food, I went there hoping I would get some kind of better, higher paying job with some kind of a skill that I would develop.

The people who give people job training are the wrong personality type, and they are not oriented towards the ISTP/SLI. The ISTP needs a particular way of learning skills. And I don’t mean this in the nicey-schmicey way of ‘All personality types have their own way of learning, blah blah,’ but I mean it in the ‘Those other people’s way of teaching things is retarded, and they are stupid for doing it that way, because it doesn’t work.’

I’m reading an MBTI forum again, after having been only doing socionics for several years now, which is why I’m talking about ISTPs again. ISTP is the same thing as SLI.

People have known about the existence of the personality types for many, many decades now in the USA, but they are too stupid to apply this information to any kind of schools or training oriented towards particular types. They have just done nothing useful to apply this information at all. I really want to fix this.

There are people who supposedly use it when they are hiring employees. However, people in the USA don’t know about socionics, and so they are very limited in what they are able to do or understand by using the types. If you really want to use this information, then you need to know which types get along with each other the best, and put them together in the workplace.

In the tent; did temporary caffeine withdrawal, then got back on; Max is lost

August 18, 2015

I withdrew from caffeine, and slept all day, almost, yesterday. I moved all my stuff all night long. I carried bags down a path in the woods in the dark. ‘Into the further we go,’ I said, terrified, quoting that movie – what is the name? Insidious. My flashlight was pale, dim, barely lighting anything, just like the people going into The Further. I eventually brought my bike down to help me carry the bags more easily.

I carried the cats in cat carriers on Monday morning, 8-17-15. I saw Max for the last time that morning, sometime before noon, I think, when I let him out of the carrier. He had been yowling the whole time. Mary Jo drove me to the park with the cats in the carriers, and I got out of the car and took them down the path.

They were so heavy, I had to keep putting them down. Max was yowling constantly while I ignored him. Jacob pooped inside the carrier and fell into it, and I ignored that. Then I could not find the tent. I walked a long way past it, turned around, went past it again, and could not carry the cats more than a few steps before I had to put them down. ‘God, please tell me why I can’t find the tent. Why can’t I find the tent, God? What can’t I find the place?’ I did not want anyone to see me and ask why I was carrying two cat carriers down a path into the park. I had to lay on the ground, with my heart pounding, soaked with sweat pouring all over me.

I found the place. I opened the carriers. Both cats came out. I let them out by the creek so they would know where the water was. The cats need water. I knew Max would run away, and he did run away. But for a few minutes he was with me. He got out of the carrier, stopped yowling, and laid on the ground next to the creek. I petted him. He followed me, along with Jacob, up to the tent. They both saw where the tent was, and Max was there for a few minutes before he walked into the woods and disappeared, possibly forever. He has not returned.

I knew he might leave. Nobody will support me on this, but I do not want him neutered, and I do not want any owner to have him if they are planning to neuter him. Since it is hard to find like-minded people who are capable of resisting the bullshit and the brainwashing telling us we have to neuter every living thing that moves and breathes, I could not find him another home. I also do not want him declawed or mistreated.

If I gave Jacob to someone else, they would starve him because he is fat, and all the stupid people out there mistakenly believe that obesity is caused by eating too much. It is cruel to lock a cat in the house and starve him. Starvation does not cause weight loss. Eating too much does not cause obesity. Jacob is obese because 1. he is neutered, so he has absolutely no testosterone, and 2. he probably was ripped away from his mother before he was done weaning, so he didn’t get enough breast milk while he was developing, and was forced to eat bad food as a baby.

I wanted Max to have his freedom, and I knew he would probably run away, and he did. And I won’t want to leave that place if I don’t find him. That would be like truly abandoning him. What if he comes back a few weeks from now and I see him? I can’t leave. I must wait for Max to return.

Sometimes I wish that I did not have a weakness of ethics. I would be like, ‘Hey! Who cares if I just lost a bunch of friends? I can just make infinity new friends all the time!’ This is what the ENFPs do when they go to foreign countries. People come and go, and it’s nothing. For me, people come and go, and it’s life-ruining.

So it’s easy for the ‘Adjustment Bureau’ to take advantage of my weakness of ethics, and use it to manipulate me. Let’s keep ruining Nicole’s relationships and make her lose people she loves over and over again, and use that to force her to do whatever we want her to do!

I’m using the phrase ‘weakness of ethics,’ which comes from socionics (personality types).

I withdrew from caffeine yesterday. When I withdraw from caffeine, my brain becomes able to process trauma. I became extremely depressed and understood how futile it was, all the things I wanted to do, and understood all that I had lost. Over and over, the soul murderers pull the carpet out from under me at the exact moment when I am climbing up to a higher place – over and over I fall again, destroying all of the progress I had made. I understood all that is wrong with society – people are forced to leave, to move, to relocate, over and over again. It is not natural. It destroys all relationships. And I ruined my cat’s life by forcing him to leave the apartment.

I can’t tell him my landlady forced me to leave. I can’t tell him that if I gave him to another owner, they would neuter him and maybe declaw him. I can’t explain that I am all alone in my position of anti-neutering, although there are a lot of people who have sympathy for anti-declawing. People who are opposed to declawing are still in favor of neutering, and they rationalize it with this delusional belief that the entire world will become a place of endless misery and suffering for all the millions of homeless cats who are starving – just like all the possums, raccoons, and deer are starving because they don’t have any nice people doing them the favor of neutering their parents to prevent them from being born.

Cats are wild animals. If left alone, they do not starve, but only if they are born into the wild, kept with their mother, kept with their siblings, running around and hunting in the wild from the beginning. Cats who are abandoned, ripped away from their mothers while still nursing, forcibly prevented from learning how to survive, *do* suffer in the wild. It is NOT NECESSARY to go out into the wild, find a feral cat colony, say, ‘Awww, look at all those poor starving feral cats in the feral cat colony, I’d better spay and neuter all of them and then start putting out giant bags of dry food for them to eat.’ This is insane. They are doing fine while left alone.

So, people who have come to understand that they should be
anti-declawing have still usually failed to understand that they should also be anti-neutering. Anti-declawing is mainstream, but anti-neutering/spaying is still ‘extremist.’ Someday, maybe, anti-sterilization will become mainstream. Protecting the body integrity of animals.

Someone will surely point out that I believe in eating meat, but, well, that is true. I’m not going to argue about it. I’m going to insist that it’s different from permanently injuring an animal and then expecting them to suffer like that for years or decades.

I took caffeine today so that I could organize my tent. I was doing nothing but sleeping. I needed to process trauma. I still need to process more trauma. Oh – I have to do an address change. That was my original reason for going online. I have to remember that before I leave the library.

Jesse de-friended me, or even shut down his facebook account, for some reason. I don’t know why. He is still intermittently talking to me on the phone though.

I have had to cry a lot in the last couple days. About Max, about Jesse, about all that I have lost, about all that has been ruined in my life. About the fact that I am forced to use caffeine so I can keep up with the world’s deadlines. About the fact that I have to start working more hours. Everything. Mostly about what I have lost. I understand the need for building intentional communities, where people will live differently than they do in the world of evil.

I’m also alone while camping. I have one cat. I do not have like-minded people who also hate the world, along with me, hating the world and sitting in the woods, making tools out of primitive materials and making our own community of like-minded world-haters.

The world is evil. The world forces us to use caffeine and ruin our hipbones, so that they can get rich by giving us replacement hips before the age of 50. The harder we have to work to make a living, the faster our hips are destroyed by caffeine. Caffeine causes bone loss. Don’t let any doctors tell you caffeine is good for you. It is not. I don’t care about this study or that study. I am not going to believe it. I *know* that caffeine is evil. Caffeine is a tool of slavery, making us able to get up and go to our jobs to make somebody else rich.

I have to go home soon. ‘Into the further we go.’ I can’t sit at home in my comfortable bed watching ‘Insidious’ online, now. I don’t have a home. I have a place to sleep, and it’s warm and comfortable, and I have a cat. But I do not have a community. I do not have Max. I do not have freedom for cat-slaves. I do not have freedom for human slaves. I do not have anti-landownership. I do not have like-minded people, although I really enjoy talking to the other ISTPs in the ISTP forum. I do not have Jesse. Jesse was taken from me by the brainwashers. Jesse was prevented from getting a job and keeping it. Jesse was led to believe that the army would be good for him. He was taken from me like everyone else was taken from me. Everyone and everything that ever mattered.

I have to get an evening job. I cannot ‘worship the sacred schedule.’ I cannot do jobs that start at 8am. I must quit caffeine completely and forever so that my brain can heal and so that I can sleep. I never sleep, I never heal, I never become myself, I never grow. I keep staying stuck. I cannot get unstuck until I quit caffeine. Then I will understand what is futile and what is possible. If I do not understand what is futile, then I will keep trying to do the same thing, thinking it will work. I have to self-dualize because none of my duals ever stay with me to give me their ‘futility function,’ minus Ne.

So I’ve got to use my own one-dimensional minus Ne and realize that something is not possible, and that I must give up and try some other way. I won’t look for alternatives until and unless I realize that what I’m doing is futile, and I cannot realize anything is futile if I still use caffeine, because caffeine makes me cheerful and optimistic, so that I feel as though *ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE!* A manic good cheer where I believe I can do anything, including the same damn thing that has already failed a hundred times in the past. I can fail it again for the 101st time, because maybe this time will be different! An understanding of futility sounds depressing, but actually, it is life-giving – it means you’ll stop doing things that don’t work and never will. Futility: -Ne, my dualizing function. And I can’t do it, so long as I am on caffeine.

Model B image that I will be linking to

August 16, 2015

I needed to make a link to an image. I changed this chart a little bit so that it’s in a particular order.

I found the new card

August 15, 2015

Okay, I did find the new card buried in my mail. There was no reason to get a new card when I already had a brand new card. It was just a second, additional, even newer card than the first. The expiration date is later. They say this one is already activated. All of this is insane. I found the card, but even so, I am not happy. This way of doing things is still insane, and it will always be insane.

I am very angry

August 15, 2015

I just tried to use my credit card to pay for some camping stuff at Wal-Mart, but it was declined. My regular card was declined too, although that was only because I had a little bit less money than I needed. I was able to buy some of the stuff after removing a few things.

I called the credit card people to see what was wrong. I had a zero balance – it was all paid off. They said that the reason it was declined was because I had unknowingly been sent a new card, exactly like my old card, with a new expiration date on it, for no reason. I had no reason to expect to receive this card, so I did not open all the mail looking for it. I had no reason to believe my old card would suddenly stop working. It’s not expired! It just has a *different* expiration date than the new one, so suddenly, it’s declined! She said the government required them to send out the new debit cards by a certain date. I have no idea what she’s talking about.

I activated my credit card online, just like she said I did, and I remember doing that, and buying one or two things just to test it. I used THIS CARD. I activated THIS CARD. I typed in the expiration date that this card has! Why would they suddenly send me in the mail a new card, with a later expiration date, which would suddenly make my existing card invalid and unable to work?

The reason this is a big deal is because I am in a hurry! I have to finish getting out of this apartment. I have to ride the bus across town! I have to go home, dig through all my mail to find this fucking card that she thinks they sent me, and maybe go to the UPS store to check my mail and see if it’s there, too. Then I have to ride the bus across town again to get back to Wal-Mart and get the remaining stuff. I have to transfer to another bus while doing this, so I spend 20 minutes or so waiting for the next bus, which I am doing right now.

I have no fucking idea what the hell happened or what the hell she’s talking about, but she swears that I activated this ‘new card’ with a newer expiration date on it. Maybe she misheard me? I told her what the date was on the one I was trying to use. But then, why was it automatically declined? Obviously something in their system does actually think I have something wrong with this card.

The entire business of loaning money…. I’m using the same company I use for car insurance. I’m not blaming the company in particular. It’s the system that I am blaming.

I just set up my tent, and I feel really good after going in the woods

August 13, 2015

3:16 PM 8/13/2015

I just set up my tent. It isn’t perfect. I know there are going to be some problems with it, but I can adjust it later. There is a very good chance that I will have the worst case of poison ivy I have ever had in my life. I did have it all over my body when I was a kid, and maybe it won’t be as bad as that time, but it will be pretty bad. There was this plant that sort of looked like poison ivy, but sort of didn’t look like it. It was, like, atypical poison ivy. Poison ivy has a lot of variations. I was pulling that stuff up with my bare hands before I set up the tent. I did wash my hands in the creek afterwards though. But I feel some itching on my arms and various parts of my body right now. This won’t always be a problem – I will gradually get it fixed as I live there.

It made me feel so good to spend an hour or two in the woods. I wasn’t really there for an extremely long time. It seemed long. I had never set up that particular kind of tent before. I had to clear a spot on the forest floor.

I was touching the soil. It is very, very dark brown, and moist. It’s different from what I had on Mt. Nittany, which was full of organic material. This stuff seemed more like loam from the stream, almost. It occurred to me, I’m going to try to plant some hopniss tubers when I receive them in the mail later this year, and I hope the walnut trees do not poison them. I learned that black walnut trees poison the soil with juglone, a chemical that kills a bunch of cultivated plants, such as tomatoes and peppers. So your garden will fail if you plant it under the walnut trees. I wanted to plant hopniss there, but it might not grow, I don’t know.

I was breathing the air. The air wasn’t as humid as it sometimes is, since it hasn’t rained a whole lot, just a few little showers. The air wasn’t as sweet smelling as it sometimes is. But even so, I was in a medium small patch of woods, surrounded by trees in all directions, and so the air was much fresher than what I am used to over here at this apartment.

I touched the water. I went into the creek and washed off my hands and feet after touching the plant that sort of looked like poison ivy but not really (which most likely was). I picked up a stone that had squiggly creatures clinging to it, under the water, and I looked at the squiggly things. I saw giant earthworms lying in the moist dark brown soil.

It is extremely difficult for me to get my stuff together and get myself out of this apartment, but I’m not going to fail. It might take slightly longer than I want. It might be slightly more inconvenient than I want. And it will be hard to get the cats used to living there. I might lose the cats.

But after being in the woods, smelling the air, touching the water and touching the soil, seeing the dark light under the trees above me, I feel *so much better*. My body feels better, physically. I feel more cheerful. I feel more happy. I feel more alive. This is a real thing, not an imaginary thing.

And I rode my bike home through the desert. What I am calling ‘the desert’ is this long stretch of sidewalk going along the road, in a suburban area where the soil is totally destroyed. No dark brown moist soil there, but cracked dry tan soil with not the slightest bit of moisture or organic material in it. It is all covered with mowed grass, with only a few trees here and there. When the leaves fall, people rake them up, and then put them in a pile *ON THE CURB*, and they have the borough truck come around and suck up the leaves and take them away, *INSTEAD OF LETTING THEM ROT IN THE YARD*. So not a single leaf ever gets to enrich the soil, but is instead taken away to be put into a pile and made into mulch, which will then be distributed again to people who want mulch. This is insanity.

The air in the desert is dry, lifeless air. It smells of car exhaust. The grass has no smell unless it has just been mowed. Everywhere is death. And people *want* this. They want the world to look like this. They want every tree to be chopped down, every inch of soil to have everything ripped out of it and destroyed and burned to death, then replaced with non-native grasses that can’t survive here and require irrigation to keep them from turning brown (note, it’s not that bad in this particular region, but in other regions, the non-native lawn grasses really do die and have to be watered). The people want everything that isn’t a lawn to be a sidewalk or a road made of concrete or asphalt. It is the total destruction of all life.

And they don’t even know! They’re not in the woods kneeling on the ground setting up a tent like I am. They haven’t been told that the air in the forest is completely different from the air in the suburbs. If they did go into the forest for a few minutes, they would not notice how much better they felt, and if they did notice, they would not care enough to do something about it, to make the world into a different place where the trees grew without being chopped down, where the roads were small and did not cover every inch of space with parking lots and highways.

I have to eat something, and then I will have to do more work. I am using a little bit of St. John’s Wort today to help me keep working.

might take sjw when I get home

August 11, 2015

I’m unable to do what I need to do to move out of the apartment, so I might take some St. John’s Wort when I get home from work today. I have gotten into a cycle of fatigue and caffeine use, so that I am constantly exhausted and burned out, but awake and obsessive at the same time, and the only thing I can do is read, write, surf the net, and so on, but cannot actually do any work.