Archive for December, 2015

got distracted, forgot to post this

December 29, 2015

7:14 PM 12/29/2015

I didn’t get to the YMCA to take a shower, but I washed my hair in the sink at the laundromat, and I have felt a lot better since then. I also washed the clothes I had been wearing that had the tobacco smoke on them.

I was in a much more cheerful mood today, after having done that.

The guy who called the police on me came up to my tent again this morning and called out to see if I was home. I talked to him a few minutes. I explained that I was camping here because, to make a long story short, I have some health problems that make it hard for me to work a lot of hours and pay the high rent here.

He told me that he had heard me coughing, and that was what had prompted him to come up here looking. I knew everyone would be able to hear me coughing. I seriously have something which is almost like whooping cough. Maybe I have a milder version of pertussis since I am, quote unquote, ‘immune’ to it, having been vaccinated.

This illness going on in State College, which I and several others have, causes you to vomit from coughing so much. You cough and cough and cough and vomit while coughing. I am coughing more at nighttime than I am during the day, just like whooping cough, and the coughing is so relentless that I have to force myself to stop it to make sure I don’t vomit. A coworker of mine was also coughing and vomiting, so I’m not the only one, and I am hearing tons and tons of people coughing in public when I walk around.

Maybe it isn’t pertussis, and maybe it is, I don’t know. They say you get pertussis in the summertime, but it has been really warm around here…. Maybe I’m remembering wrong.

Today, after I talked to that guy – he apologized and said he didn’t mean to be a dick (or something like that, I forget exactly), and I said it was okay, the police weren’t mean to me either. I don’t know if I got any kind of citation or if I am being charged with a crime or anything – it might, or might not, have helped that I kept insisting I was just on the verge of leaving the camp to go move in with a friend.

Some people are able to be reasonable and follow the spirit of the law, and others cannot – I broke the letter of the law, which says I’m not allowed to do this, so letter-law-followers will insist that I receive whatever paperwork I’m supposed to receive for breaking the letter of the law, regardless of the fact that I have done no harm to anyone. If I get anything, they will have to mail it to me, which means I will have to go and pick up the mail a lot for the next few weeks to see if I got any citations or anything sent to me.

I went to pick up the mail today, after talking to that guy. I decided to walk. It was pretty warm outside. It’s still cloudy and rainy, but it wasn’t pouring today. I got the mail and decided to go to Weis and try to get some milk to drink, with synthetic vitamin D in it, because my hips were in pain again, since I took the super-strong forbidden caffeine pills that I have correlated with stabbing pains in my hips. Most likely, I am losing bone shards in my hips as they develop ‘cavities,’ just like teeth, from all the caffeine I use. The pains happen when I’m walking, and only if I use those particular caffeine pills.

I went to get the milk but the whole milk was sold out (the small bottles), so I got reduced fat milk. There was some BS that I read on the internet called ‘The Udder Truth,’ which is attempting to defend the non-organic factory farm dairy industry. (*I didn’t read the whole thing, and I also didn’t watch the video. I only know that it’s BS because I myself have experienced hormone problems while drinking normal milk, and stomach problems from bad quality milk, but none of it happens when I drink organic milk.*)Supposedly, milk sales have gone down – but guess what? Just a few months ago I was seeing signs in the grocery store in the ORGANIC MILK section saying, ‘Sorry, we are sold out of organic milk products, there is a large demand and low supply nationwide’ (or something to that effect, probably less technical). Or something to the effect of ‘there is a nationwide shortage of organic milk products.’ Something like that…

So, ‘milk sales are going down,’ are they? Organic milk is selling so well, with such a huge demand, that there’s a nationwide shortage!

I have some questions about the milk market. It has to do with ‘futures.’ It isn’t really a ‘question’ exactly, just something I’m thinking.

I don’t like the ‘official commodities market.’ That market is bullshit. It’s all manipulated by people who can borrow the most money. I don’t know the details of how it works and I don’t want to. That is the loathesome and evil global market economy.

However, let’s pretend that we stopped calling organic milk merely ‘milk.’ It is not a mere commodity, nor is it just a general commodity in such a general category as merely ‘milk,’ but instead, it is an extremely specific type of milk. Not only is it ‘organic grassfed milk,’ it is Smith Corporation Organic Grassfed Milk.

You sell this one specific, unique item, not as a commodity, but as a special thing. It’s a futures trade. You use it just like ‘futures,’ where you buy ‘futures’ to help even out the price changes over the year.

They sell agricultural futures to help even out the prices of agricultural products during the times of year when those products are in season. So, instead of having the price shoot up to $100/ounce during the wintertime because it’s not available anywhere, instead it remains down at $0.50/ounce, because people predicted that, of course, we’d run out of the stuff during the wintertime, so they bought the futures from the futures market.

This works for predictable things like seasonal price changes in the agricultural market. Why wouldn’t it work for milk? Cows should not be forced to produce milk all year long. They can’t milk if there isn’t a lot of grass during the winter. They just save their energy for surviving and keeping warm, and then they start milking again in the spring.

So people would have to store *frozen* milk, or dried milk products. If people insisted they wanted regular milk, non-frozen and non-dried, all winter long, they’d have to take it out of the freezer and thaw it out, but no big deal.

How much milk should you freeze and set aside for the future when cows aren’t milking in the winter? You predict what sales are going to be and you use your futures markets and all that. Again, I don’t know the details.

I think that important information gets lost if we just lump everything together under one general category in the futures markets, calling all of it ‘milk’ so that organic milk prices are controlled by regular milk prices. It’s a specific kind of milk, so it is a whole different product, not the same thing at all, and it serves a whole different market niche who has entirely different goals and needs and desires. The retards who want to eat fat-free, chemical-filled, artificially flavored, beaver-butt-tainted, artificially sweetened yogurt from factory farms are a completely different group of people from those who want to eat organic all natural full fat yogurt from grassfed cows.

(Sorry, I’m very frustrated with one of the grocery stores. I sometimes get a craving for yogurt, and I’m able to find *ONE*, just *ONE* brand that has full fat yogurt – it’s called ‘Brown Cow Cream Top’ yogurt, and it’s not perfect in every way, but it’s the best thing available at that store – but I can only find it at the one particular Weis Market, and not at the other Weis Market. Every time I go to the wrong Weis Market, I still try to look for Brown Cow yogurt there and get extremely annoyed because EVERY SINGLE FUCKING BRAND is selling either lowfat or fat-free yogurt. This wouldn’t be a problem if I were driving a car and I could ‘vote with my wheels’ and say fuck you to Weis Market and go someplace else to get full fat yogurt.)

Whoa – I got distracted and never posted this. It’s not done. I have to go somewhere. Oh well.

Still gonna tell that story; I have a cold, still full of vile hatred because I’m covered with smoke

December 28, 2015

1:19 PM 12/28/2015

I haven’t had quite enough caffeine yet to write this blog. I actually *forgot* to get a cup of coffee when I got my food at Burger King. I had this weird feeling that I was missing something when I asked for only a cup of water. I kept thinking there was going to be a second drink that I would be carrying, but there wasn’t, or maybe even a third drink if I also got a milkshake.

I have two thank-you notes to write. I’d like to write one to the guys at Monte Carlo Pizza, next door to this laundromat, just to inform them that I’m going to be renting a room somewhere, and I haven’t died, and I’m okay. I always bought food there and they were nice to me.

I’d also like to write a thank-you note to the YMCA, where I took showers a few times a month. When I told them I was only taking showers, they started letting me in for free, instead of doing the $10 day pass the way I usually did. I’ll let them know, too, that I’m okay for the winter.

Winter isn’t so bad actually, I’ve done it either twice or three times before, I forget – I think once was in my car, and twice in the tent. It’s just that Jacob can’t put on a dozen layers of clothing the way I can, and I’m not lighting fires, nor do I have an insulated building, so I don’t like the idea of leaving him there alone.

I have a bad cold. I still haven’t told the story. Maybe I will after my cup of coffee. I have been in a horrible mood ever since I took that minuscule puff of smoke, and I also have smoke on my clothing, which will never wash out. So I am still, right now, under the influence of tobacco, more violent and emotional than usual, although nowhere near as bad as I was on the night when I roughly thrashed around to get out from under Jacob when he was forced to try to crawl on top of my laptop while I was playing Terraria.

I caught a horrible cold, which I still have, which is causing me to need to cry more than usual, but I also have a legitimate need to cry, on top of that. I need to tell the ‘Jesse is being a worthless pile of shit’ story – I don’t have the energy to tell it, yet. He’s ignoring me. That sums it up. I’ve seen him twice, and both times were merely quick sex and a little bit of chatting. He wouldn’t even answer my text when I asked him for a hug because I felt sick. Simple human decency – just give someone a hug, someone you say you care about.

I do have a lot of the story to tell. I’m anxious and under pressure now, because some puppet was forced to walk up to my tent, and then was forced to call the police on me, so I am under pressure to move out now – even though I was this close to moving out anyway. I might move out a couple days sooner than I otherwise would have.

The police did come and talk to me. They came up to my tent. It was a man and a woman.

Those butter cookies are gone. They were my survival food. I still have all the tins. Danisa Traditional butter cookies, with the painting on the tin. They contained a large amount of saturated animal fat, which is an extremely nourishing and absolutely necessary vital food. I would eat a few cookies and get enough saturated fat that I wouldn’t feel starving. The cookies at the grocery store, when I looked for substitutes, were… garbage. I did find something that might possibly be an inferior substitute, but it contains chocolate, and I don’t always want to be eating chocolate constantly. These butter cookies were my STAPLE FOOD, as in, the most important thing I ate every day.

I would like to make my own, but make them even purer than the corrupted ones that I was buying. There would be no artificial vanillin, and anyway, how did vanilla get to Europe? It got there after the Europeans invaded North America, or South America. Doesn’t vanilla come from South America? There is this stupid belief that everything on earth which is ‘plain flavor’ must contain vanilla flavor, or else it somehow fails in some unexplainable way. Bullshit. Plain flavored foods do not require vanilla flavoring any more than they require shrimp flavoring, basil flavoring, or cherry flavoring.

So ‘vanilla’ is not a ‘traditional’ ingredient in these cookies. I also would not add the leavening chemicals, ammonium carbonate or whatever it was, something like that, I forget.

I would get organic flour, organic grass fed butter or ghee, some kind of fruit like dates which are really sugary, and organic pastured eggs. Those would be my sustaining butter cookies.

In fact, that’s probably another reason why I’m crying, seriously, no joke. I have suddenly stopped eating lots of butter every day. I’ve noticed dairy addiction in the past, and I would eat, say, a bunch of cheese, then start crying the next day as I literally went into withdrawal. Babies cry because they are in milk withdrawal.

So, anyway, Jesse won’t even make an effort to meet me. It’s inconvenient because I don’t have an apartment, but if somebody really GAVE A SHIT THEY WOULD FUCKING *TRY*, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

I don’t think it will be comfortable for me to invite Jesse over for the Quick Sex Behavior over at Jason and Eric’s house.

He always used to be this way in the past, too, it’s just that it’s much more urgent now because he’s only here for fifteen days, and then will go back to the army.

Also, saying that he is, in fact, an absolute worthless pile of shit doesn’t help me disconnect from him. I still care, but I’m
continuously angry and want to inform him about what an utter worthless piece of shit that he is. Probably tobacco. That’s how tobacco people behave.

I need to find: an ENFP, IEE, Huxley, who isn’t a fucking retarded moron and a dickbag and a mainstream brainless sheeple who has no clue about reality. There are very, very few ENFPs. They are a tiny percentage of the population, but meanwhile, all the ISTP Gabins are a much, much higher percentage of the population. So the Huxley can go around talking about how wonderful love is, and how easy it is to fall in love, and how there are other fish in the sea, while thousands of Gabins walk the earth in search of their soulmates for a lifetime and never find them. There is about one Huxley per hundred Gabins, I think, or maybe even fewer than that. It might be several orders of magnitude smaller.

The wheat flour in those cookies did not even have those horrible, toxic substances added to it, the vitamins and stuff. It did not contain mineral iron to make me constipated!

I HATE THIS WORLD. I HATE EVERYTHING. I HATE SOCIETY.

I am tired of going around trying to tell the world what’s wrong, and nobody gives a fuck and nobody wants to listen. (Note, blog readers, this doesn’t include you, thanks for reading, I know several friends and family who still read my blog.)

I hate having to explain my rationale behind every single thing, over and over again, a thousand times. I hate having to explain and re-explain the fact that synthetic vitamins are useless or toxic, most of the time, but everyone adds them to food anyway, and synthetic minerals, especially iron, are much worse and cause constipation. I hate having to go through the whole entire explanation all over again because nobody, anywhere on earth, knows this but me and a tiny handful of people who have no power over the government and its laws about adding fake vitamins and fake minerals to foods.

No, I don’t care about the rationale for why they add those fake vitamins. I have heard the entire story, my entire life, since I was a teenager. Oh, woe is me! Some people started to eat nothing but wheat flour, and no other foods at all, and when they did that, they got malnourished! So we had to add toxic chemicals to all the wheat flour, so that people could continue their habit of eating nothing but wheat flour and only wheat flour all day long and nothing else but that – after we displaced them from their tribal territory and forced them to stop being hunter-gatherers, where they ate the best food available on earth and had perfectly healthy bodies, and we forced them to start paying for the land they lived on!

I haven’t had my cup of coffee yet. All I had was some Burger King food, and a disgusting, sickening, inferior piece of garbage, this slice of pie, a Reese’s peanut butter cup pie, made with things like vegetable oil instead of butter, and reduced fat milk instead of whole milk or cream. And plenty of gums and fillers to make it chewy! Xantham gum, cellulose gum, and a very very very long list of chemicals in tiny print.

Okay, it also contains a small amount of cream cheese. I have to give it credit for that. But it’s a ‘diamond in the rubble,’ or whatever. All the other ingredients are filth.

I need an ENFP who isn’t a brain-dead sheeple moron with a family who will always take care of him no matter how badly he fails at life. He’s hoping to get a bullet so that he can be disabled, but not badly disabled, and get paid for the rest of his life. I’m not making it up, he said that. I know he’ll just sit around at home with his mom and dad and brothers and sisters, and will never know what it’s like to take care of himself. As long as he can fall back on that, he’ll never understand or care about why on earth someone would ever voluntarily choose to live in a tent for long periods of time.

Brain-dead sheeple! Socionics is real, but duality doesn’t work if one person is intelligent and the other person is a brain-dead sheeple moron who believes everything mainstream society says to him.

Can I just push a button and stop giving a shit about Jesse? Nope, of course not. As long as I am covered with tobacco, I will continue to radiate hatred verbally, while still remaining connected to him.

The world is not filled with Huxleys, but it’s filled with Gabins, a hundred, or a thousand, or ten thousand Gabins per every one single Huxley. Ten thousand ISTPs competing for one single ENFP. Meanwhile, if I am even slightly more intelligent than the average person, I’m not merely looking for any old ENFP, I’m looking for a tiny percentage of ENFPs who are in the top one percent of their IQ range, so I have to find one percent of one ten thousandth, or something like that. One tiny percent, out of one even tinier percent. Intelligent Huxleys who are not brain-dead sheeple morons and conformists are, eh, perhaps one in a hundred million people. I have to find THAT PERSON to be my husband and have children with me, and I have to find them RIGHT NOW because the children are hemorrhaging out of my body once a month and nothing is stopping them, and I’m 41 years old.

I should get that cup of coffee. I have to start packing my stuff up so that I can move. I’ll drink the coffee, maybe read a little bit, and I will need new clothing because I know tobacco never washes out, and so long as even a tiny piece of fabric has even a tiny bit of smoke on it, I will do nothing, ever, but radiate vile hatred and rage towards all of the universe and especially towards Jesse.

to be continued: Jesse is being a jerk, there were tortured souls in the bathroom door at the Catholic church, and I’m deathly ill and horribly sick

December 26, 2015

4:48 PM 12/26/2015

I don’t have a lot of time because I am on break at McD.

I’ve been blowing my nose on a t-shirt that I think has St. John’s Wort residues on it. I can’t get rid of sjw residues permanently, because if I even so much as take the pill one time, it gets excreted through my sweat and skin oils into my clothes, and then it doesn’t wash out. I do sometimes want to use it very occasionally.

I’ve got a bad cold. And on top of having a bad cold I now have some sjw residues on me, changing my mood and my behavior.

I don’t have time to tell the story. There are three actual photos of me holding a cigarette, which were sort of a joke, but in reality, I did actually inhale one teeny-tiny minuscule fraction of a puff. I am not exaggerating, it was an extremely small inhale. Jesse offered it to me. Jesse is smoking like crazy, and has lost all feeling and all sensation, and is numb. He said he isn’t able to feel affection anymore.

He offered me a cigarette, and really really pushed me to try it. I knew I would not get addicted, since I am very serious about never smoking. So I took that teeny tiny fraction of one puff.

I was sick for days and now I instantly got this horrible cold, sore throat, and dry cough, even though I almost never get symptomatic colds. When I catch a virus, the only symptom is more fatigue than usual.

I was filled with hate. I realized that smoking causes violence, and I googled it, and it’s true – smoking is indeed involved with domestic abuse. People who smoke are constantly angry and violent and cruel. I felt it.

Jacob was being mind-controlled and they forced him to climb up on top of my laptop while I was playing the video game in the tent. I got angry and thrashed and struggled to get myself out of the way and move the laptop out of the way. I don’t normally do that. I am aware that Jacob can’t help doing what the soul murderers force him to do, but my thrashing around response was much more cruel than I would ever normally be. I was irritated and I expressed the irritation.

Steve took me to a Catholic church for Christmas. I actually enjoyed it.

But I have to tell about the bathroom door. I went into the bathroom when I first got there. On the door is a pattern that looks sort of like wood. But it isn’t wood, it’s something manmade. And when you look very closely at it, you see these distorted, tiny faces. There are round shapes of heads, and there are tiny eyes, noses, and mouths. The dots are not random. There are exactly the right number of dots on each face to represent two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. Maybe not all of them have faces, but quite a few of them do, and they are this distorted tortured look of souls in hell, or purgatory….

I don’t have time to finish this, someone started chatting with me and I vented all about how Jesse is being a total asshole dickbag right now.

I’m being forced to believe that I will someday be able to have children with Jesse, which is an utter lie. That lie doesn’t come from Jesse, it comes from the mind control. Jesse himself usually says he doesn’t like children and doesn’t want any, and he won’t marry me. But I can’t finish this now, I’ll finish it later.

stats

December 19, 2015

All I have to do is include keywords like ‘sexy ass’ in my blog, and my blog stats spike. Seriously, I’m way at the bottom of google searches for pornography. How would anyone even find my blog that way? I did used to have a high search result position for some very specific search phrases that are so unusual nobody else is writing about them, but ‘sexy asses’ are not one of those unusual, unique terms that nobody else is writing about. Come on you people. Jeez.

Mozzarella sticks – opioid proteins

December 19, 2015

I’m gonna have to go on a McDonald’s-free diet and eat nothing but home cooked food, after I live in a house again. These new mozzarella sticks cause me to crash afterwards, and become sleepy, and later on, depressed, with a craving for more mozzarella sticks. Overcooked cheeses contain opioid proteins that can cause those effects. I forget what they are called. Caseomorphin? Something like that.

Jesse’s gonna be a goddamn fucking dick the whole time he is home.

I took a ginseng pill, and the effect is stronger than I expected

December 18, 2015

I took one of the multi-ingredient pills, so it has several kinds of ginseng, plus synthetic vitamin B12. I’m not sure what prompted me to take it. I just felt very depressed and wanted to take something to cheer up. It worked a little too well. Now I am smiling too much and being excessively goofy and manic.

I’m mad at Jesse for being mad at me for being mad at him. Jesse! You went away for a whole year! You wrote letters to me for a while but then stopped and now I can’t even beg you to send me more letters – you just keep refusing! I have no bond with you at all! And now you get mad at me for moving in with Jason and Eric! And you tell me not to do anything with them! I can’t even get past the ‘hug barrier.’ We have an invisible wall between us.

And I want to make my life easier, and get a motorized bike, because Eric has built several, and his dad is an electrical engineer AND YES HE IS THE SLI, just as I predicted. The dad is the Gabin. The mother is *probably* an EII / IFNJ, I’m guessing, because she is an English teacher, and IFNJs become English teachers, but not ENFPs.

And Jesse refused to speak to me for most of the day yesterday, although I finally got a hold of him in the evening. So he didn’t completely refuse forever.

I know I’m on drugs because I’m overreacting emotionally, which is what signaled to me that this one single pill I took was too strong. Eric waved at me when he saw me over the counter at McD while I was waiting for my food, and I felt such an intense rush of laughter and affection that I almost wept. I do love him, but such an intense emotional reaction is unusual, so it’s most likely the ginseng.

The ginseng pills are probably working better because I stopped taking the caffeine pills. I read someplace that ginseng and caffeine should not be taken together. I don’t remember where I read that. But I believe it makes the ginseng less effective. It’s more effective now that I have less caffeine. It’s also a fresher bottle that I bought more recently. That’s my theory.

Ohhh… these eggs were left at room temperature all morning. That’s why I never order the ’round eggs’ at McDonald’s. They make me sick. They leave the whole tray of them sitting out at room temperature all morning long. I can eat them if they’ve been inside the refrigerator, but not if they’ve been sitting out all day. That’s my theory as to why they sometimes make me sick.

I’m going to have to just calm down and try not to be too manic.

I showed up early because I had no idea what time I was supposed to come in. I come in at 3:15, so I have a little while yet to sit here.

It was interesting going to Eric and Jason’s house. I can foresee one major problem and one possibly minor problem which would be easily solved. And another minor problem which is easily avoided but would cause us to have an awkward conversation.

First: major problem. They have an oil heater. I was able to smell it whenever they opened the door of the closet that the oil heater was in. If I am able to smell any petroleum fumes anywhere in the house at all, the house has too much indoor air pollution and I am going to be chronically ill. So, I won’t stay there for too many months then, I guess. I grew up with electric heat all my life, and it was only as an adult that I started living in places that used oil heaters that smell horrible and pollute the indoor air. I suspect petroleum smoke causes some of the Weston Price deformities. This is an unfixable problem. I do not know if it is possible to seal that door shut so completely that I will be totally unable to ever, ever smell the slightest bit of the oil smoke or the odorant in the oil (I think it has an odorant to make it easy to smell?).

Minor problem: I had a clue that possibly they are keeping their fridge too warm. The dad was talking about the food in the fridge, and he mentioned something about people sharing each other’s milk and eggs because ‘they spoil so quickly.’ In MY fridge, NOTHING ever spoils quickly, because I keep the temperature below 40 degrees. However, if people have it on an ‘economy’ setting, it will be above 40 degrees. Mary Jo’s fridge felt like it was about 60 degrees, and her milk spoiled in about 24 hours. It’s the same as just putting it in a cupboard or leaving it out on the counter. Why even have a fridge? Why not just have a big cupboard that doesn’t even plug in?

But I don’t think theirs was that bad. It was just that one sentence he said, and I was listening for that piece of information. However, this is easily solved, if I merely ask permission to change the setting of the fridge, and if I buy my own fridge thermometer to prove that the temp is too high. Since the two sons work in food service, they will understand immediately that 40 degrees is the right temperature. They might have thought it was unimportant or trivial, but I have personal experience with getting constantly sick from eating spoiled food in a fridge that wasn’t working.

The last one is, Jason cooked something on a cast iron pan. He wrote on facebook that he loves the cast iron pan. I understand – I also was taught that cast iron pans were the best, for many reasons.

However, one of the reasons why they are ‘good’ is the same reason why they are bad. They are ‘good’ because iron leaches into the food, which allegedly gives you an iron supplement. I get constipated when I cook foods in iron pans. Even a few molecules of iron in mineral form is enough to make me constipated. If Jason ever cooks for me again, I will have to somehow, awkwardly, inform him that I prefer to use stainless steel pans because I am sensitive to the iron that leaches out of iron pans. I don’t necessarily want to discuss my constipation, however I will if I have to. I just don’t want to disappoint him because he loves and idealizes the cast iron pans – they are a perfect tool in every way – except the iron constipation thing, which apparently other people are not aware of. I also get constipated if I eat Himalayan sea salt, which is pink because it contains iron. I’ve tried it – instant constipation. I stopped using it, and the constipation instantly went away.

I’ll go ahead and post this – it’s not saved in Notepad.

again, I’ve forgotten what I ranted about. Something about how I hate the Goodwill clothing store. And a bunch of socionics stuff, how I am unable to remember the nouns that represent particular types of information. Complaints about ‘stylish’ pants that are bad quality and don’t fit properly.

December 17, 2015

4:56 PM 12/17/2015
I wrote this yesterday but didn’t get online to post it. I was writing at home in the tent, so I was hungry, caffeinated, and obsessive. I’m also probably covered with secondhand smoke residues.

4:04 PM 12/16/2015

I have to wait a little while. I’m going over to Jason & Eric’s house tonight to see about renting a room from them. I’m up, I’ve had some instant coffee, I’m dressed, I’ve braided my hair, and now I just have to wait a while doing nothing.

I saw Jesse yesterday. I wrote with paper and pen what we did and what we said, so that I would remember it. It has to be written down immediately after it happens, or I forget it all.

I could see a particular information element where I am almost completely incapable of remembering the nouns, and I think it is -Fi. Minus Fi is, I think, abstract social relationships. So, for example, ‘father’ is an abstract, general relationship between two types of people, the father and the child, and it also suggests a relationship with a wife or mother or a female. Someone who is a ‘father’ has a particular type of relationship with other people who are the ‘children.’

I am unable to remember those nouns. There are actually millions of nouns representing some sort of abstract, general relationship that people are able to fit into. There are the common familiar ones, like ‘father,’ but there are also ones you have to learn later on in life, like relationships in some kind of organization.

The ones I wasn’t able to remember were the words for relationships in the army. Jesse was using sentences where he mentioned particular positions in the army, and I could not remember those words. It was almost like I could not even hear them. I heard them enough to recognize a familiar word, and to know that I knew vaguely what it meant, kind of, and I knew how to spell it. I’ve heard the word before. ‘Drill seargent’ is the type of word I’m talking about, and ‘battalion.’ He said that some particular person did something to him, and it was, like, a drill seargent or something, but I cannot remember which word he said.

I found this out when I was struggling to remember our conversation and write it down afterwards. It’s like writing a novel. It’s very hard to write dialogue. It’s very hard to recall dialogue exactly. I am not a tape recorder. I do not have a good memory for dialogue. And there are particular categories of words, and particular types of expression, that I cannot remember afterwards. I can remember the general idea, that is all.

Even though we did not have a long, elaborate conversation, I still could barely remember and record a small number of simple sentences verbatim. We had a normal conversation and it wasn’t that
complicated.

I also think I couldn’t remember the part of the conversation where I might have been using my superego (-Ni,+Fe). He commented about my backpack, the really awesome one with the frame. I got excited and started expressing excitement (+Fe), but cannot remember my exact words at that time. Then I started talking about the past (possibly -Ni?), about the history of where this backpack came from. I can remember kind of what I said, I started saying that I got it from my parents a really long time ago. He sort of interrupted me somewhere when I started excitedly going off about the history of this backpack. So I don’t remember the details or the exact words that I was using when I was excited. I remember a little bit better the part where I talked about the past history. That fits – the Ni part of my superego is the stronger part, and the Fe part is the weakest of all. I will have the hardest time remembering anything at all that I say when I am expressing excitement or positive emotions.

I also have extremely simplistic and childish, ‘low-tech’ methods of expressing excitement – again, the one-dimensional weakest function of +Fe (and also -Fi in the model I use). The weakest function is just barely able to remember anything at all, and so it expresses itself using the simplest possible terms, repetitively, always the same. I’ll say ‘That’s awesome!’ But I have nothing more elaborate than that. There are millions of emotion words, but I cannot remember them all in the heat of the moment, and all I can say is ‘that’s great’ and that kind of thing.

I also have changes in my tone of voice, which are nonverbal, but which form the background music of my words. (Note: I’M ON TOBACCO RIGHT NOW. Jesse smokes. I am covered with secondhand smoke. My brain works differently when I am on smoke.) The background music of my words expresses emotions, like anxiety or irritation, emotions which can be positive or negative. I usually try to have just a pleasant emotion in general, which is Plus Fe – +Fe tries to translate everything into positive emotions. Crying becomes laughing. It’s really like sobbing without tears, because it takes a really focused effort to produce tears, and you have to be well hydrated, and you have to have all the right buttons pushed to produce tears. If I’m not weeping, then I will laugh at things.

(Not long ago, I laughed inappropriately at the wrong moment, and I felt a sensation that Brent wanted to punch me, at work. Somebody made a joke at Brent’s expense and I giggled. I was on drugs – I think I was either on caffeine pills or ginseng, and I was tending to laugh a lot at every little thing. Being unable to control an outburst of giggles, then regretting it because it was inappropriate, is another sign of emotional weakness. Brent forgave me a while afterwards, and I tried nonverbally to appease him, looking at him sorrowfully and apologetically, trying to restrain my emotions as much as possible, trying to be helpful and calm again. Brent is an SEE / ESFP.)

But other people, who have a weakness of *minus* Fe in their verbal ring, such as the LIE / ETNJ, especially females, will tend to be almost crying all the time, or frequently. They have -Fe as their two-dimensional role function. Most of the LIE females I know will make a crying-like noise which is laughter, without tears, and it’s different from the music of my own laughter – it is mostly negative, not positive. The males, on the other hand, will shout the F-word frequently, angrily, expressing anger instead of crying – negative emotions once again, -Fe.

LIEs also have the weakness of sensing, and so they don’t modulate the volume of their voices based on who is able to hear them. -Se is, I believe, the information element of ‘Everybody can hear you, everybody can see you.’ In my version of Model B, the LIE’s weakest element is +Si/-Se, one-dimensional vulnerable function. So, they shout the F-word loudly enough that everyone can hear them, and they get in trouble for that repeatedly in the workplace. I’ve seen it happen over and over again.

The LIE female at Taco Bell has a touch phobia, and, lo and behold, her weakest function is +Si/-Se. She told me that actually she’s a very cuddly person, but only with people she is very close to and knows and trusts. Because of her weakness of +Si, she can’t control her expressions of sensual pleasure, and so if you touch her, she will squeal loudly and pull herself away from you.

Jesse is an IEE / ENFP, and he too has a weakness of a similar function, but not as weak, -Se/+Si in his role function, two dimensional. He too has the phenomenon of failing to modulate the volume of his voice if other people are able to hear him. He did it last night – he commented something about another customer at the laundromat as that person was walking out the door, and the door was not completely shut behind the guy, and I became nervous, thinking the guy might be able to hear him. ‘People are able to hear you,’ once again, is probably -Se. I automatically know that if you’re going to comment about a person behind their back, you have to wait until the door completely closes so that they cannot hear you. ‘They can’t see you’ is also -Se. Who can see you, and who cannot see you, and being able to hide yourself and do things secretly, knowing who can and who can’t see you, is -Se. Also, who can hear you, and how loud your voice is, and whether everybody in the room is able to hear you, or if only particular people are able to hear you.

This also might be my weakness of -Fi. I try to automatically be polite to all people, and cannot modulate my politeness level to any shades of rudeness or withdrawal. So I am obligated to be polite to the random stranger in the laundromat, even though he really doesn’t matter to me and I’ll never see him again. I’m reflexively paranoid that Jesse might possibly offend and hurt the feelings of a random stranger who I will never see again, because of my weakness of emotions. So, it is not merely Jesse’s weakness of sensing (‘that person can hear you’), it is also my own weakness of ethics (‘I’ve got to be polite to everybody all the time no matter what no matter who they are and the slightest impoliteness to any person at all is unthinkable and this rule is unbreakable and unquestionable!’) Rigid, unbreakable, simplistic rules are a weakness.

I titled this notepad file ‘men’s clothing,’ but then I never wrote about men’s clothing. I bought only men’s clothing at Goodwill, just three items: a sweatshirt made of orange fleece, a black hoodie, and brown pants.

I originally started looking in the women’s section, but could not find any plain, ordinary, docker-type pants. I got very irritated, and just switched over to the men’s section, and instantly found hundreds of items I loved, so many I could not possibly buy them all. I HATE WOMEN’S CLOTHING. 100% of it is utter garbage. I don’t even feel like explaining all the ways that women’s clothing is utter garbage, but it is.

This hoodie that I have on, for example. It’s puffy. Do they ever add any insulation to any women’s sweatshirts or hoodies? Nope. Women do not go outdoors and do not require warmth or insulation. A hood on a woman’s sweatshirt will never have insulated quilting on the inside of it, and it will be nothing but a single thin layer of fabric. This hoodie has an insulated, quilted hood, which is soft and warm and comfortable, because men go outdoors, and so you’d better not screw up any men’s clothing. Men make the rules, men have the money, and, according to ‘The Myth of Male Power,’ women actually spend more money on clothes because they receive prostitute money from their boyfriends and husbands, and have more disposable income. So women will keep wasting money on garbage clothing, and will always demand more garbage clothing, no matter how much garbage clothing you give to them. They’ll buy it, hate it, discover how utterly useless it is, and throw it away and buy another one just like it. But men will not tolerate such behavior. MEN’S CLOTHING must actually work right the first time, or there will be hell to pay for those fashion designers!

A woman’s hoodie will always be an impractical, useless ‘style’ item. You wear it merely to add some color to your outfit, and not to actually protect you against the cold. It will be a thin, single layer of fabric; insulation is utterly unthinkable; women do not buy hoodies for the purpose of keeping warm, they buy them to look sexy. A woman’s hoodie must bare the midriff when they raise their arms, so the fabric under the sleeves must be sewn a particular way so that it lifts up the bottom of the shirt every time you move, exposing your belly to the ice cold air, and exposing your backside and your butt crack if you bend over, because women’s butt cracks are sexy, and women’s lower abdomens, lower backs, and butt cracks just LOVE being exposed to icy cold blasts of air in the winter. Our butt cracks are exposed because the pants are designed to drop below the hips, because we always want to be sexy and have our butt cracks and our underpants exposed every time we move any part of our body, no matter where we are.

Even the women’s pants from McDonald’s are butt-crack-exposers. I ordered women’s pants when I got rehired, expecting that the women’s pants would be the ones that have the stretchy elastic bands in the waist, so that I have a little bit of leeway if my weight changes a little bit, or if I am bloated during my period. I thought that they were ‘women’s’ because of that elastic.

But no, that is not what I got. I got pants without any elastic in the waistband, and they are butt-crack-exposers, hanging below my hips. Stylish! I wear pants so that I can have style! They are tight around my thighs, BECAUSE STYLE!!! Who cares about being flexible and able to move and bend and squat and lift things, because I’m not doing any heavy labor that involves running, crouching, lifting, and crawling under things! These are the type of pants that split the seam down the butt after a few months of wearing them. The pants are even sexier after the seam splits open and you can see my brightly colored underwear contrasting with the black pants.

If I’m crawling under a sink or a table to get something, the goal is to expose my sexy buttcrack to seduce all the males nearby into glancing involuntarily at my sexy ass! That’s why I’m working at McDonald’s! To seduce men, so that someone will pay me to be their home-prostitute and I won’t have to work anymore!

I haven’t eaten. I should go out someplace and eat, before I go to the Jason-Eric house to see about renting. I should go now… I should stop writing. I will have to interrupt this starving, coffee-induced obsession about my hatred of women’s clothing.

CAN’T… INTERRUPT… OBSESSIVE…. RANTING…..

Jesse is somewhere between here and Harrisburg.

December 15, 2015

I’m waiting at the laundromat. I was able to get over to the YMCA to take a shower, and then I got a couple pieces of clothing at Goodwill. I actually hate Goodwill for a lot of reasons, but the other thrift store was closed. I wasn’t able to find much and I was in a hurry, so I didn’t get much of what I wanted. I still need a couple more things. I’m wearing the same clothes over and over, and I don’t want to be doing that if I’m going to be over at Jesse’s house visiting him and having his family see me. I need to at least pretend to change my clothes once in a while. He will be home in a few hours tonight.

I could go on a ‘what I hate about Goodwill’ rant, but I will keep it short. First, the clothes *used to* be organized by color, and they used to be on individual round racks. I was able to go straight to a rack where everything was one particular color. I loved that.

But a couple years ago, they got new, long racks and got rid of the individual round racks. Then they stopped organizing them by color. The colors are all randomly thrown together now. I can’t find anything. They’re grouped by size, but even so, it’s very, very hard to pick out something of a particular color.

One lady I know from work, who is ESE / EFSJ, says that she actually *likes* the new organization, and hated it the old way. I don’t get it. I don’t see how anyone could possibly like it this way. It takes hours and hours to find anything at all. If you don’t mind wasting hours and hours looking through each and every item of clothing individually, one at a time, to figure out what color it is, as it’s buried between several other items of clothing, and you have plenty of free time to waste, and don’t mind hearing the loud music blaring overhead, and you just LOVE pulling out each and every individual item of clothing from the rack to get a good look at what color it is and what it looks like, then Goodwill must be fun for you. But I don’t like that.

The thrift store, St. Paul de Vincent or something like that, or St. Vincent de Paul, or whatever, has long racks where the colors aren’t organized either. But I don’t hate it as much there, because they at least have ROUND NUMBER PRICING. The numbers will be something nice, like $2, instead of the numbers at Goodwill, which are something like, “$3.59, plus a 37% off discount!” Bizarre numbers that are so weird you can’t possibly calculate them in your head, and you have to memorize what all the colored tags mean this week so that you know whether this item is 37% off, 51% off, or 67.89% off. So you have to multiply the 67.89% discount by the $4.49 price, and then subtract that number from $4.49 if you are able to remember the numbers long enough. AND THEY EAT THAT SHIT UP. THEY *LOVE* THAT SHIT.

I do not love that shit, nor do I eat it up. I fucking hate it.

So anyway, I hate Goodwill. But I had to go there because the round-number-pricing store closes early, at 4:30, because its employees have lives that matter. It’s a church-based place, whereas Goodwill is said to be some kind of scandalous, fraudulent, fake charity that never really does anything at all and has a rich CEO or something. I’ve heard bad things about it as a charity. I don’t know whether they are true.

If *I* ran a used clothing store…. But someday.

It’s not just all people who have deep set eyes, it’s some specific type of eye

December 15, 2015

I have a contrast to him – I always read Dr. Mercola’s articles, and I don’t hate Dr. Mercola, but he has a superficial resemblance to Doug Collins (or whatever his name is, I’ve already forgotten). It’s a very superficial resemblance and to me they look nothing alike. However, they both could be said to have ‘deep set eyes.’ Dr. Mercola has more kindly looking eyes, not the ‘stupid chimpanzee’ eyes that I see on the Doug Collins face (note, he really might be not that bad of a guy, it’s just a reaction based on my dislike of my school coaches, I’m pretty sure now). ‘Stupid chimp’ eyes have this look about them. They look shrewd and calculating, dumb and smart at the same time, smart but in an evil way (this just screams ‘socionics’). They’re sitting back away from you, looking at you, but withdrawn, waiting for the right moment to stab you with a spear or something. Or they’re gathering all the townspeople together to raid your house with torches and pitchforks. The townspeople are all turned against you because of this guy with the deep set eyes who’s looking at you this way.

You know what, I think I had a coach in school who looked just like him!

December 15, 2015

I’m gonna have to stop blogging and play Terraria or something. I swear, he looks like every coach I ever had. I disliked my gym class coaches in school. There was also a coach who was no longer a coach, but had become a history teacher instead, and I thought he was an utter moron and I couldn’t stand his class. But there were other people who absolutely adored him and thought he was the greatest guy on earth (socionics in action: some people like a particular person, and other people hate that particular person, because of the socionic quadra they are in).

I should stop blogging and just play Terraria. It’s weird that I would prefer writing today, instead of playing video games. Isn’t it more fun to play Terraria than it is to write? But for some reason I am in the mood to rant for hours about nothing, and say horrible things about people that I will regret later on and/or the voices in my head will harass me about them later on.

Okay! I think Doug Collins is the guy I don’t like just because of how he looks

December 15, 2015

I google searched for sports analysts, then looked at the images. I’m *pretty* sure Doug Collins is the guy who I’ve seen talking who I instantly disliked because of his eye structure. I don’t watch TV, but I sometimes see the TV on sports when I go eat at the Monte Carlo pizza place next to the laundromat, and that is where I’ve seen him. He hasn’t done anything horrible in front of me where I could see him. I just disliked him immediately because of how he looked, and because of the subject matter he was discussing, and the particular way in which he was discussing it. He talks about sports strategy or something. I hate the entire universe that he lives in. In reality, he might not be that bad of a guy, and I have a feeling this is ‘socionics in action.’

I was also tempted to say SLE / ESTP

December 14, 2015

about the previous post (which I don’t feel like opening up and editing). However, sometimes I have seen evil ITNJs too.

It’ll all be cleared up when I get an EEG cap and I’m able to start typing large numbers of people using EEG. Then I’ll get it figured out, what each information element contains, and I’ll take photos of the people for a visual identification database.

Evil lying serpent with deep-set eyes lies about ‘The Hum’ in a video

December 14, 2015

Want to see what an evil, lying troll looks like? Here is what he looks like. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGHe7rdq0Ds Richard ‘Teco’ Bannister, starting around 1:10 in that video, is an evil lying troll. I can see it in the way he moves his body, I can see it in the shape of his eyes and how deep set they are in his skull. I swear to God he looks like a fucking lizard. I can see how people talk about lizards in human bodies. He seriously looks like one.

I was noticing recently that there is a particular type of eye structure that I instantly hate. I am instinctively doing socionics visual identification, from a lifetime of experience. People with this eye structure are going to be some kind of evil, evil murderer. I cannot type them for certain as some particular socionic type. They might even be INTJs (LII, or ITNJ as I’m calling them now). I don’t know.

I only know that I see one guy who was on television, doing a sports analysis, some thing where they say, ‘If the team had only done this and this and this, then they would have been able to blah blah blah.’ I saw that eye structure and instantly loathed the guy. I also loathe him because of the particular content that he is talking about, and because of the way that he talks about it.

But the guy in this video is an evil, lying serpent, even more so than the sports analysis dude whose name I don’t know. He has The Eye Structure. He seriously looks exactly like a fucking *snake* in a human body. I love snakes. However, snakes in human bodies who are paid to tell lies and spread disinformation are not at all like the cute lovable little garter snakes that I see around my tent in the woods at Walnut Springs Park.

I knew he was an evil lying serpent after the first few words came out of his mouth. He claims that ‘the hum’ is happening in Taos because the earth’s crust is thin there, and some kind of geo-phenomenon is going on with the magma or some shit.

Actually, there are deep underground military bases there. And they run their fucking equipment all day and all night and don’t give a fuck how many people are harmed by it and how many lives are ruined by it, because they’re the fucking military and they don’t value human lives at all. So they’re underground, running some kind of air ventilation system to bring air down into the tunnels, and they don’t care about making equipment that doesn’t vibrate at extremely low frequencies that penetrate the ground for hundreds of miles.

I just hate the *look* of this asshole. Fucking goddamn serpent, and not the cute sweet little garter snake kind of serpent either.

I forget what I ranted about while I was writing this at home.

December 14, 2015

2:45 PM 12/14/2015

I didn’t fully charge the battery yet, so I can’t write for long – I’m still at home. The test line was much darker than the control line today on my ovulation test. It was very clearly and obviously darker. Jesse comes home tomorrow. Maybe I am ovulating close enough to the right time after all. (Note: a while after writing this, I also had a tiny, stabbing pain in my lower right abdomen, and it wasn’t my appendix exploding. It was probably a cyst rupturing, I’m calling it a cyst but I forget what the technical term is, the normal cyst that is supposed to be there, the one that ruptures and delivers the egg to the fallopian tube.)

However, I followed an improper procedure while taking the test. I didn’t use the tiny little urine cup provided with the test, I used my big urine cup, the one I always use all the time, and then dipped the test strip in there. I have a large plastic container that used to be a soup container, that soup from Weis Market, that they sell at the deli / food service place. I always used to get the shrimp and corn chowder, or whatever it’s called. So that cup could have been contaminated with months of hormone buildup because I don’t clean it. I use a cup so that I don’t have to step outside the tent and freeze to death every single time I urinate, because I urinate about a hundred times a night after drinking so much caffeine at work.

Jacob is biting his toenails. (Jacob still has his rear toenails, THANK GOD. Amazingly, it ISN’T ILLEGAL YET to declaw the *rear* claws of cats too, and some people actually do that, giving their cat four clawless feet – which means they CANNOT SCRATCH FLEAS. We need someone who will push hard to get the anti-declawing laws passed in the USA. Some groups are doing it, but it needs to become a big huge deal that everyone is hearing about every day.) I used to see Max doing that too. I would find little cat toenails lying around on the floor once in a while. I miss Max, but at the same time I don’t want to get another cat, because I can’t give them the life I want to give them. I want to give them good food and a safe place that is far away from highways. Actually I want that for myself too.

I want to be so far away from civilization that I can’t hear ‘The Hum.’ I don’t know if The Hum in State College is as bad as The Hum in other cities. It’s actually called ‘The Hum’ and it’s a Thing. You can google it. It’s described as an unexplained noise, or something. There’s a word for this but I can’t remember it. It’s a XenoNoise, along with all the XenoAnimals, like Bigfoot. There’s some word they use for ‘mysterious’ or ‘unexplained.’

You could actually try to track it down. Even when you can’t hear the cars driving, here in Walnut Springs Park, you can still hear The Hum. There is some kind of fan, or machine, droning constantly, all night long, all the machines in all the houses and all the factories, and it makes this background hum that never stops. ‘The Hum’ as people describe it something much more severe or much worse or much more annoying than this hum. Mine is a lowercase hum without a ‘the’ in front of it. People who talk about The Hum with capital letters and a ‘The’ article in front of it are referring to something which almost penetrates your head and is so annoying it distracts you. It might be in a lower frequency range.

I love the windmills. I love the sight of them on the mountaintops. We have some around Altoona that I always see when I go driving down to visit Mom and Dad. However, as beautiful as they are to me, as amazing, gigantic, powerful as they are, they are also based on frauds and manipulation of politicians. Some corporation was awarded the right to use that land to give us ‘green energy,’ but the ‘green energy’ thing is all a scam. These windmills produce a low frequency hum that is life-ruining to the people who live near them.

I just glanced at a news article yesterday, something about China participating in an environmentalism law about carbon emissions. The whole ‘carbon emissions’ thing is also a huge scam, and the whole thing of using corn ethanol to replace gasoline is also a huge scam that ruins the environment more than it helps, and it also does not give us gasoline self-sufficiency, and it also does not stop us from invading Middle Eastern countries and secretly funding their terrorists so that we have an excuse to invade them.

Anyway, as I was saying, I understand the need to fix the problem of *particulate* emissions, and other toxic gases, which are *toxic to humans and animals*, in China. However, ‘carbon dioxide’ is one of the most benign of all the emissions produced by human society! Carbon dioxide is a relatively harmless gas that we ourselves breathe out of our lungs with every breath. I say ‘relatively harmless,’ although it will kill you by suffocation if you breathe nothing but carbon dioxide for a few minutes. It is stupid to focus on carbon dioxide while ignoring all the particulate emissions and all the chemical emissions that are much, much, much more urgent and important. I actually understand how China would be not all that concerned about focusing on ‘carbon dioxide’ or ‘carbon in general’ or ‘carbon as such,’ which is stupid and irrelevant. They need to focus on the things that are actually making people and animals sick, and killing plant life. Pollution really exists, but focusing on something as benign as ‘carbon dioxide’ is a pointless distraction from solving real problems with real pollution that actually is harming everyone!

If they want to write the word ‘pollution’ in all the news articles about environmental agreements, I will be much less annoyed with their stupidity. Pollution is a real thing. ‘Carbon emissions’ are bullshit. The solution to ‘carbon dioxide’ is to STOP MOWING YOUR FUCKING LAWNS EVERY DAY, YOU FUCKING RETARDS. You know how I’m always saying that I will never believe in the existence of a food shortage, so long as Americans are mowing their lawns every day? If Americans can afford to mow their lawns instead of grazing their goats and chickens on their lawns, if Americans can watch their apple trees drop bushels and bushels of apples, and just let them rot, even though they could get a year’s worth of apples for free, as long as those things go on, then the ‘food shortage’ does not exist and is a myth. If there were a real food shortage, people would be stopping to pick up those fallen apples, and they would be grazing animals and chickens on their lawns instead of mowing them.

The same is true for ‘carbon emissions.’ All that’s needed to get rid of carbon is to allow the plants to breathe it in! If you want to go around killing every living thing that surrounds you, chopping down every single tree and mowing down every single weed, leaving nothing but a tiny, short carpet of non-native grass species that require irrigation to keep them alive in the hot summers, and require artificial pesticides and herbicides and fertilizers to keep them green and lush, then you’re implying that there is no need to grow any real plant life to absorb any carbon dioxide.

Environmentalism starts in YOUR BACKYARD, when you stop mowing every inch of your lawn, start planting some perennials and things that are zero maintenance, or native plants that are adapted to your region, something useful that you can pick and eat for food, something that will grow and live a long time, dropping leaves and sticks and branches which will rot on the ground and produce mulch and humus, and you have to tolerate all those ugly looking leaves and branches and ignore them and don’t bother having a lush green perfect mowed lawn that looks like The American Dream.

I truly love natural mulch. I don’t have as much actual mulch here at Walnut Springs Park. I’m not sure how many decades this place has been left alone. It might not have been very long. I do have mulch, I’m not saying there isn’t any, but it isn’t as deep or thick as the mulch on Mt. Nittany, where I camped before.

What I do have here at Walnut Springs is *moist* soil, which is always moist, everywhere, constantly. It would be absolutely wonderful for plants that require a lot of moisture. I have never seen any place that had so much moisture for such a long time, everywhere, any place where you stop to dig. I’m on a hill which is up above the creek, but even up on this hill, everywhere it is moist. This is a wetland. It’s technically a wetland, and that is what the signs say in the park. There is a much wetter swampy area, but I am not right next to that, I am above it.

And in this moist soil, there is an unbelievable number of earthworms. I read someplace that earthworms weren’t native to the USA? I don’t know if that’s true or not. But there are so many earthworms here, you can see all the dirt that they are digging up, in piles of little tiny gravelly pebbles of dried mud. When it rains, sometimes the earthworms come out in huge clusters, and one time, I accidentally stepped on one of these piles of worms.

People have such a limited concept of what ‘farming’ is. This place could be ‘farmed,’ while also simultaneously being preserved as a wetland. There are so many valuable products that could be grown and produced here, without disturbing the creeks and the swamp, without chopping down the trees. You can grow mushrooms, for example, as a sellable food product, without chopping down the forest. You can raise chickens in a place that has a billion earthworms. Chickens! Wild chickens who roam free, with unclipped wings, and eat worms, so that you never even need to feed them a single piece of grain their entire lifetime.

I don’t like to see things in terms of ‘valuable products for sale,’ though. I don’t want to live in a world where we are required to slave away on our farms so that we can pay for the right to live on this land. I don’t want to pay for the land at all. I want all of our ‘valuable products’ to be taken for our own use, for subsistence purposes, or traded with other people just because we WANT to and because we can, not because we have to trade everything in order to pay the bills.

I’m trying to think of the economic term for this. It might be ‘marginal profitability,’ or something. But ‘profit’ and ‘revenue’ aren’t the same. Marginal productivity?

Imagine that I only had to pay somebody one penny to let me live on this land. I’d have to produce some kind of valuable product here that was worth one penny. I could probably do that if I collected walnuts in the fall and sold them. I’d have enough pennies that I could pay the landowner twelve pennies a year, my monthly rent. Just one penny a month.

But no! They don’t stop there. The people who control the banks, the people who control the real estate market, the people who own the world, must raise the prices higher and higher and higher, so that you have to produce more and more and more and more on your land to pay the bills.

I can’t just harmlessly collect a few walnuts, and sell them for a few pennies. I have to sell my body as a prostitute, while simultaneously mining plutonium ore and also running a factory that produces computers while also renting out a dormitory to Penn State students who have infinite amounts of money due to the fact that they are taking government-mandated student loans, which causes the rates to keep going higher and higher because banks are not ever, ever, ever allowed to say ‘no’ to any amount demanded for a student loan.

What? Your college demands a million dollars a month in tuition? Oh well, here it is. Have fun with your million dollars a month! There is absolutely no limit to the enormous amounts they demand for their tuition. And so, the prices of everything in the universe can go higher and higher and higher without limit, because banks aren’t allowed to refuse to give people college loans, and then chase them down, torture them, and garnish their wages when they’re ninety years old and on Social Security. Yep. They do that.

This entire town’s fake wealth is fueled by those infinite,
un-refusable college loans. The flood of fake, forced, stolen, printed money washes out of Penn State into this entire town, making the prices of everything go up BECAUSE THEY CAN. We have people in this town who can afford to pay $50 for every McDouble sandwich they eat at McDonald’s, for every meal, every day. I can buy ten McDoubles and eat them for all the meals every day of my life, and each McDouble is $50, for $500 a day, but who cares! I work for Penn State! I get the highest wages in town, for doing nothing!

I was disgusted by that when I did the temp job at Penn State, where I had to sit around and let the students in to take their tests on the computers. They were not using their people productively. Those people sat around and did nothing for large amounts of time. All of them were very relaxed and easygoing, in an extremely low-pressure environment where you could just wander around and have hour-long chats with somebody if you felt like it.

I am not saying that this is objectively wrong or objectively bad. I actually believe that ALL HUMAN BEINGS DESERVE TO LIVE THAT WAY. Every human should have the right to a relaxed, low-stress, easygoing lifestyle. But no! Some of us have to slave away at extremely high-pressure jobs where we physically have to RUN from one place to another, literally, because we are so understaffed that only three people are operating the entire store at McDonald’s (while a fourth person is washing dishes, because 1. he’s new and hasn’t really gotten confident enough yet, and 2. he’s so exhausted from working too many hours at his other job, and also killing his body by WALKING LONG DISTANCES because he has this delusional belief that exercise is good for you, and starvation and weight loss are good for you, and he’s trying to avoid getting addicted to illegal drugs again. That’s one of the other EII / INFJ socionic activator relations to me, Jim, who is also working at Taco Bell.)

My battery is dying. I didn’t charge the computer completely. I have to finish this up, or else decide to go outdoors in the rain and go to a public place where I can plug this in.

Anyway, I’m saying that the only reason those people at Penn State can afford to have employees who just casually stroll around and have hour-long chats, while being paid $500 an hour, is because they are allowed to charge infinite amounts of money for a tuition that the banks cannot refuse to give loans for. They can demand a million dollars a month in tuition, and the banks cannot say no to giving every person who asks for it a loan to cover that tuition. So they do! Because they can!

Then they pay their employees, who are all Gamma Quadras, like ESI / IFSJ (I feel timid about reversing those letters, but it’s meaningful: the function order is shown from left to right), to stand around and do nothing for $500 an hour, while the rest of the slaves have to kill themselves to earn $1 an hour.

I cannot work in that kind of environment – it sickens me. I can’t work surrounded by ESIs who are doing nothing but slowly strolling around having hour-long chats. I need to actually do something useful. That doesn’t mean I necessarily want to race back and forth through McDonald’s to every position to help our three-person crew (with the fourth person as the dishwasher) operate the entire restaurant, like we did yesterday. I don’t necessarily want to do that. I want to work FOR MYSELF, gathering and hunting for my own use, producing crafted items for my own use, my own fur coats from my own hunted or farmed animals. I want fur coats.

I actually might have more time before I have to get up and plug the computer in. This isn’t Terraria, so I’m not likely to lose any data. What I mean is, the computer warns me that the battery is dying, and then, it automatically shuts down. But you’re able to restart it and override the dead battery thing. You can still use it, and use up every drop of battery until it is physically incapable of operating for another second. It will do that if you turn the computer back on. However, if you are playing a large, bulky, memory-hogging game like Terraria, and if the battery completely dies for real, all of a sudden, in cold icy weather while you’re camping in your tent, so that the ice cold temperatures make the computer run more slowly and make the battery not work as well, then, unfortunately, when the (my computer just now automatically hibernated while I was writing this sentence) computer shuts down, it loses your Terraria character and the whole world she was in, which happened to me.

Terraria automatically saves the game while you’re playing, but apparently, it’s possible to interrupt the process somehow, and lose everything, even though it did autosave not long before that. I don’t know how it works or why it wouldn’t be able to recover the previous autosave, but it couldn’t.

However, if I’m using something like Notepad to write, in warm weather (it’s been up to almost 70 degrees the last couple days!), and the battery shuts down for real, I won’t lose much, maybe just the last sentence I was writing, or maybe nothing at all. I’ll save it frequently.

It actually takes Terraria several minutes to shut down, or start up. I have the Windows Task Manager open all the time, and I can see ‘Terraria’ appear in the list, then sit there for several minutes, while its memory usage goes up and up and up. The same happens when I quit Terraria – it takes several minutes to disappear from the list. So, whatever it’s doing, whatever it’s thinking, whatever
memory-rearranging and game-saving it has to do, it takes a long time, and I must have interrupted that process when the battery died for real that one time, in cold weather when the computer just could not run fast enough. I notice my batteries die much quicker when it’s cold. They last forever when it’s warm.

Terraria isn’t written in assembly language. I need games that are, like Roller Coaster Tycoon. But that’s a whole other project, and it requires drug use. I cannot make my brain ambitious enough to do such projects unless I am using herbal antidepressants or ‘tonics,’ like ginseng, and caffeine pills, and bottles of Coca-Cola, which contain trace amounts of cocaine residues from the decocainized coca leaves that are in them.

Every celebrity is an illegal drug user. They all use cocaine. I became even more convinced of this when Jim got back from visiting California this past week. Jim (from McD / Taco Bell) told me that it seems like everybody in Hollywood is smoking marijuana or doing cocaine, and somebody came in and openly asked for some drug while he was getting a haircut. They asked for a ‘line,’ quote unquote, of ‘protein powder.’ You don’t do ‘lines’ of protein powder, and you don’t need to buy protein powder at a hair salon.

The reason why famous people and television stars and musicians are able to do what they do is almost completely 100% because of illegal drugs like cocaine. Unfortunately, this includes the things that I love the most, the things that represent the deepest longings of my soul, the music that moves me the most strongly, and the
Transcendentalist philosophers whose writings were influenced by the newly discovered cocaine from the newly invaded South America, during that time period. They also used opium, and maybe opium isn’t as popular, or maybe it is, in the form of heroin.

But all of them, all of them, have this fake happiness and fake ambition and fake talent which is caused by the drugs they are using. Without those drugs, there would be no celebrities and no Hollywood and no history-making.

I want to live in a world without any drugs. Not even caffeine. Caffeine is a tool of slavery. It enables people to force themselves to go to work and produce money for the slaveowners every day. Tobacco is also a slavery drug. In a world without stimulants, people would lack ambition, and they would only do the minimum necessary to survive. We would live a subsistence lifestyle, because nobody would want to CHANGE THE WORLD and MAKE HISTORY and DO SOMETHIN HUGE due to the fact that they were under the influence of drugs.

In a drug-free world, people have children who are lacking
deformities. Alcohol and tobacco and caffeine probably caused a lot of the deformities described by Weston Price, although I am not saying that all deformities are caused by that – I wasn’t feeding my guppy fish any drugs, and they had guppy babies that were all deformed, and back then, I didn’t know what caused it. Guppy fish cannot have properly formed babies if you’re only giving them fake fish food from the store. They grew up with their backbones all twisted and bent.

Slave animals, such as farm animals, will also produce babies with extreme and severe deformities, even though you’re not giving them any caffeine, tobacco, or alcohol, if you are only feeding them garbage and fake food while keeping them trapped indoors so they cannot seek food on their own, or trapping them on land with depleted soil that has no minerals in it. That was documented by Weston Price too.

So some of it is because of sheer malnutrition. But not all of it. Active poisoning with harmful substances, and not merely a lack of needed substances, is the problem. If you take away the harmful substances, such as phytic acid, an anti-nutrient, or the drugs and chemicals and heavy metals, then our bodies are able to utilize smaller amounts of nutrients more effectively. We need higher doses of nutrients if we are killing all the nutrients with anti-nutrients and poisons.

I was reading about hopniss, and found some web pages talking about how animals, such as horses, respond to poisonous plants. Deformities of the babies, bone deformities, were one of the effects of farm animals eating poisonous plants.

Oh my god, I am freezing. I had to go outside the tent to go to the bathroom, and it has started pouring rain. My tent thermometer says it’s about 68 degrees F in here. I just have to dry off. When I camped on Mt. Nittany through all of winter, I would defecate into a plastic bag and throw it out the door, rather than go outside in 8 degree weather. Then later on I would remove the plastic bags and clean up all the mess. That was something I just didn’t talk about very much. Not all the details of my life are pleasant and idyllic.

Okay, I have on a warm blanket now. I guess I will just stay here till the battery totally dies. I’ve had a small amount of instant coffee. When the battery dies, I will be left with loneliness and boredom, so I will want to leave and go someplace to plug in.

I want to live in a world where a drug-free lifestyle is supported by the whole community in every way, where it’s physically impossible for the members to go get drugs. They won’t be paid with money in dollars, or something, and since they receive no pay, they cannot buy drugs. We’ll be paid with barter, as volunteers. We’ll work on the land, receive food and a home and community support, but receive no dollars. People will hunt, gather, farm, and fish for themselves.

Fishing is only possible in a world where the rivers haven’t all been dammed up. That is another can of worms. Blow up the dams! Why can’t those stupid terrorists ever do anything USEFUL for the world? Blowing up crowds of innocent civilians is pointless. If you want to blow something up, for God’s sake, go find a dam to blow up, and do the environment a favor! We don’t have enough environmental terrorists nowadays. Terrorists need to get their priorities straight. If they want to stop the USA from invading their Middle Eastern countries, then they could help us out by freeing us from slavery, and one sure way to free us from slavery is by breaking all the dams on all the rivers so that we can fish. Then, we won’t need to buy fish delivered from faraway locations across the globe, so we’ll need less oil stolen from the Middle Eastern countries. Problem solved! Blow up some dams, you stupid terrorists!

Note: Terrorists are a fake phenomenon which is paid for by the very same government that condemns it. We are giving them money with one hand, and killing them with the other hand. I am not saying that this is done by the exact same individuals within the government, or the exact same organizations within the government, but since the government is an enormous, bloated bureaucracy whose revenues and expenses are totally undocumented, it’s easy for shadow governments and secret agencies and corrupt people to do whatever they want, with trillions of dollars.

Nope: terrorists will never blow up anything that will actually improve the world by its absence. There are indeed things that could be blown up, which would leave the world a much, much, much better place afterwards when they are gone, and dams are one of those things. REAL targets that REALLY NEED to be blown up and destroyed, to have a REAL BENEFICIAL IMPACT on society by their absence, will never be destroyed. Blow up the prisons and free the prisoners! Nope, it will never happen. State-sponsored, state-paid terrorists will never actually harm the state. Similarly, the one airplane that was destined to hit the White House was, miraculously, crashed in Pennsylvania before it reached its target, wasn’t that right? Oops! The people who actually matter never get killed by terrorists! I wonder how THAT happens?

No state-sponsored terrorist will ever blow up a Monsanto factory to stop the production of pesticides and herbicides. No state-sponsored terrorist will ever blow up a factory that produces weapons of war for the government’s military. Why aren’t the terrorists blowing up the factories that produce guns, bombs, tanks, and drone airplanes (operated by cowards who strike from afar while sitting safe and comfortable at no risk to themselves) to bomb Middle Eastern countries, which would actually make a difference in the war? Because terrorists aren’t real. They don’t exist. They are a state-created, state-sponsored phenomenon, paid for by the state, approved by the state, allowed by the state, encouraged by the state, and enabled by the state.

They cannot make a real difference in anybody’s lives. They cannot free anybody from slavery. They cannot end a war. They can blow up citizens who are deemed as worthless by the government, without ever killing any particular individuals whose absence would improve the world. They cannot free slaves. They cannot kill slaveowners. They cannot kill mind controllers. They cannot destroy mind control systems. They cannot destroy factories that produce chemicals or weapons of war.

Terrorists cannot bomb anything that the mind control system won’t let them bomb. They can bomb trivial targets that have no helpful impact in their absence. They can’t break the fences. They can’t break the walls. They can’t disempower the slaveowners. They can’t destroy the controllers.

So anyway…. Dams. Wetlands. Fishing. Self-reliance. I’d live in a community that supports my drug-free, caffeine-free subsistence lifestyle. I would not be pressured to ‘change history.’ Instead, I would live a mundane life, where my achievements were low, and nobody would expect me to be a super overachiever. People would expect me to do whatever my drug-free brain and body were capable of doing, even if those were lower expectations than we have now, even if my potential was lower than it is now with drugs.

I need to make a Terraria knockoff. It could be called ‘Contraria,’ Eric’s suggestion (ex-boyfriend and still a good friend Eric, not Eric from McD), because I had said the character would just go to bed and sleep and refuse to obey the game controls.

Anyway, one thing that I find ridiculous in Terraria, as much as I love the game, is fishing. The stupidest way for any human being to fish is with a fishing pole. Primitive tribes do not sit around with fishing poles for hours waiting for one single fish at a time. They build fish fences that channel large numbers of fish into one place and then they net them all. Terraria lets you build walls and fences. Why can’t we channel huge numbers of fish in Terraria when we can build all these walls and we have 999 dirt blocks in our inventory? You should never have to sit there patiently waiting for one fish at a time with a fishing pole.

Now, granted, Inuit (Eskimos) actually wait for a *seal* to come to a fishing hole. That’s different. A seal is a huge piece of meat that will feed an entire family, and it’s worth sitting there waiting for. But when they fish, they wait for the entire herd of salmon to go upstream to spawn, and they catch hundreds of fish at a time in narrow places.

Similarly, you should be able to do something about the ‘line breaking’ problem. I didn’t understand it till I read the wiki. Often, when you’re fishing, you’re about to catch something, and when you pull it in, it disappears and there’s no fish. They say this means the fishing line broke, and the only thing you can do about it is wait for the Angler to give you the high-test fishing line that never breaks. You have all this ore and all these materials, and cobwebs can be made into silk, but you can’t make your own high-test fishing line, or a fishing net? What? Terraria, come on!

And, oh yeah, Tungsten. Don’t get me started! Tungsten is garbage! Millions of tons of tungsten ore, and it does nothing. You can make a few weapons and tools out of it, which quickly become obsolete. Then you can make tungsten bricks out of it, and that’s all. So you can build houses out of tungsten brick. I did that, and still have, like, a bunch of inventory slots that still have 999 pieces of tungsten in them.

Tungsten makes light bulbs! Did you people forget about the REAL light bulbs invented by Thomas Edison, the light bulbs that radiate a pleasant warmth which we’re not allowed to have because of this delusional belief that they contribute to global warming? Tungsten filaments are used in light bulbs. Tungsten is also used to fill the inside of drilled-out bars of gold, because it’s the only thing denser than gold (except, maybe, radioactive elements or something weird. It’s the only cheap, nontoxic thing denser than gold.)

And why don’t we get lead poisoning from mining lead? Lead poisoning should give you a ‘slowness’ debuff and a ‘confusion’ debuff, where you go the opposite direction from where you clicked (those debuffs actually do exist in the game).

I make fun of Terraria because I love Terraria. I need to make a knockoff where these things happen. It won’t be based on sexual symbolism, but I should make a few things that make fun of the sexual symbols in Terraria. Angel statues don’t do anything? Yes they do! Angel statues are connected to deeper internal tissues, which are much larger than what is visible from the outside, and these tissues become engorged when the angel statue is turned on. (Angels are labia, female genitals. Look at an angel, and you will see the head of the angel, which is the clitoris, and the flowing robes and the angel’s open arms and wings, which are the spread labia. Angels welcome you (the penis) into heaven (the womb), where you will experience ecstasy (orgasm) and then die (the penis goes soft and loses its erection), and be reborn (fertilize an egg and make babies) and gain eternal life (continue the life of the human species as a whole).

All sexual symbols are annoying to me. I think it’s something to do with socionics. I use Model B. Oh AND BY THE WAY, how can I have 3D -Fi along with my +Te if I’m in the same QUADRA with somebody who has +Te/-Ti as their base function? I’d be in a different quadra altogether if +Te/-FI with an F as in Fecal Material is my creative function. Whoever told me that, in that forum where I was talking about Model B, and somebody is misinterpreting Model B and claiming that Bukalov said that +Se and -Ti could not be blocked together – that claim is fecal material, BS. There is no reason why +Se cannot be blocked with -Ti. I’m gonna clear all of this up when I get an EEG cap and start reading people’s brains to determine their personality type. Then we won’t need to rely on just a model. I’ll be able to see stuff happening instead, in the real brain, and I won’t have to have these concepts where, for some strange reason, +Se cannot be blocked with -Ti and therefore my creative function has to be +Te/-FI with an F, which makes it impossible for me to be in the same quadra with the LSE / ESTJ who has +Te/-Ti as their base function! (Or ETSJ, to show the function order.)

Anyway, I was gonna say, in the Model B that I use, -Se/+Si is my ignore function, and I believe that sexual pleasures are probably included with +Si, although I’m not sure of this. This would be why I am an anti-sexual prude, why I have a strong aversion to speaking verbally about sensual pleasure, although I am capable of using it for myself, NONVERBALLY, in my socionic Id block, at a three-dimensional level. I cannot even say something as simple as ‘That feels really good’ while receiving a back massage, due to my severe restrictions on expressing sensual pleasure verbally.

Anyway, it’ll all be cleared up when I get my EEG cap and start reading minds. I’ll be a mind reader and everyone will hate me just like I hate the mind readers now. Except I’m joking – using an EEG cap is NOTHING compared to the mind reading being done by the mind control system, which uses radio frequencies over long distances and which is unavoidable and inescapable. An EEG just passively sits there and passively receives the signals, without attacking the brain, whereas the mind controllers actively attack everyone’s brains with active signals.

Passively receiving signals is one of the most harmless things you can do while eavesdropping on someone. If all that they ever did was passively receive my signals, without interacting with the victim at all, I would not mind it anywhere near as much. But no, they have to INTERACT WITH THE VICTIMS and fantasize that they are in some kind of ‘relationship’ with me, as their little pet. They have to SEND SIGNALS BACK TO ME and put voices in my head and try to have conversations with me and control me and prevent me from existing, which is SOUL MURDER, the permanent loss of life over time, which cannot be undone. Even though my body does not die, the hours and years of my life are permanently gone and cannot be brought back. Those were hours in which my soul should have existed, but did not, due to the mind control.

They rationalize that hey, no real harm is being done, because we cannot see any physical bruises visible on the outside of the body! No physical injuries that you can see externally, so you’re just a whiner complaining about first-world problems! Get over it, whiny baby! You’re just being ‘suppressed,’ not ‘soul murdered!’ ‘Soul murder’ is too extreme of a term to use for this! You don’t actually DIE!

But the hours and years of my life are lost forever and cannot be brought back. I cannot rewind 41 years of life and go live them again as a free soul without mind control, and then see what my soul would have done if it were not being controlled, and what I would have become, what kind of person I would be, what kind of life I would live. None of that will ever happen. That possibility, that scenario, is lost forever and can never be brought back. The only scenario that could happen now is if they turned off all the control systems this instant and set me free, but I would have still lost 41 years of life. I might have 50 more years ahead of me (I say I’m hoping to live to be 120, so it should be more than 50), but 41 years were lost, and all the development that I would have done is lost.

I’m hungry, and I’ve only had coffee and butter cookies, Danish butter cookies in the cookie tin. I think I had a slim jim too. And I’m ovulating, so I have the LH hormone.

Yeah, the line was *really dark* on the test strip. I *might* still produce enough sex pheromones, but only for another day or so, to tempt Jesse into having intercourse with me. Maybe the LH hormone does actually make me grouchy and bitchy like I have PMS. I don’t know much about all the hormones because I had no need to know about it.

I would stop bitching if I ate some real food. Then I’d sit and play Terraria. I need to take a shower, but maybe I will do that tomorrow. I also need some clothes that I can wear to Jesse’s house, but I will have to do that tomorrow too. I will have to miraculously somehow squeeze all these errands into tomorrow. Jesse will arrive later in the evening.

I’m not even joking, I’m serious. I just remembered something somebody said. I briefly had a relationship with a guy who was Egyption, and NO I DO NOT WANT THE MIND CONTROLLERS TO GIVE HIM THE SUGGESTION TO CALL ME ON THE PHONE AND WISH ME HAPPY HOLIDAYS AGAIN, because they did that last year. I dunno, maybe he will and maybe he won’t.

Anyway, this guy had language difficulties. He had an accent and was hard to understand. When he was about to have an orgasm, he would inform me, ‘I arrive.’ What??? How did they get that? That means he would have somehow been given a synonym for ‘I am coming,’ which means that, even in Egyptian, the phrase ‘I am coming’ is used to describe having an orgasm and ejaculating. Do Egyptians use that exact same phrase? Surely, no bilingual dictionary would have told him that ‘I’m having an orgasm’ translates to ‘I am coming,’ and then tell him that it’s okay to use the word ‘arrive’ because it means the same thing as ‘come.’ How did those synonyms get twisted up along the way to make him think it was okay to say ‘I arrive’ when he was about to have an orgasm? I don’t get how that happened. Somebody really really messed up the translation along the way, except it’s confusing, because they must have had the right translation to begin with (‘I am coming’), and then, for some reason, changed it into a synonym for ‘come’
(‘arrive’), but it had been right before and didn’t need to be fixed or changed.

Oh well, that was an amusing memory, I just thought of it because I was saying ‘Jesse is coming later that night,’ but I don’t want to mean that he is ‘coming’ like having an orgasm, even if that very thing does actually happen. I don’t like words with double meanings, now that I am a victim of mind control where they use that kind of thing on me all the time, and all the dreams I am forced to dream at night, which are fake scripted dreams written by the mind controllers, use those symbols.

Sometimes the dream writers are nicer to me. They gave me a dream where I was fighting a cute cougar, which, obviously, represents ME. The cute cougar was all furry and fluffy, like a cougar costume, with soft curly woolly fur all over its legs, which represents the fact that I do not shave my legs, although the fur on my legs is very disappointing for anyone who loves fur, because there is hardly any of it and it is very thin. So I was fighting this battle with a cute cougar who looked like it was just a cougar costume, except it also had a cute face that didn’t look like a mask with eye holes, it looked like a real animal’s face. But it was cute. It had extremely long, sharp, curved claws that were digging into my hands as it grasped my hands. It was standing above me while I was lying in bed. Its lower feet were sort of crossed or something, in such a way that they were crossed while pressing down on my own feet. It was like a reflection but… crossed. Are they saying something about a socionic mirror relation, maybe? It was like a mirror. It was also like a molecular isomer, where something is in the wrong position and cannot be a direct mirror relation. That reminds me of the messed-up Model B that I am complaining about, where I cannot be the mirror relation of the LSE if my creative function has +Te/-Fi instead of +Te/-Ti.

So I was fighting this cougar mirror and yelling, ‘Mom! Mom! Mom!’ My mother is also my mirror relation, an LSE / ESTJ / ETSJ. But I was yelling to Mom for help. And when I woke up, they told me Jason was calling his mom to protect him against me because I was the cougar attacking him, and she told him to just give the cougar whatever it wants. But I first contacted him while I was under the influence of Brittany’s birth control pill secondhand residues that I got while hugging her. So it was unusual behavior, which I cannot explain or apologize for. And once it began, I could not stop it or change it, because I didn’t want to, but I would not have begun it. We have walls between us. We do not approach each other or breach these walls. Eric is the same, we get within millimeters of each other but do not touch, and constantly navigate an avoidance of touch, always aware of the other person’s position. There is an anti-touch wall, a repellant.

After I was lying in bed for a while after this dream, I heard someone shouting from the path below me. I have said that my tent is on the opposite side of the path from the little debris stick house that somebody else built, which has been there for over a decade and the wood hasn’t rotted, and I know this because I found it in, like, 2003 or so. I’m directly opposite that stick house, which is in the middle of the creek on a little island.

Somebody shouted, ‘Nicole! I tried to call you!’ I looked on my phone later, and there was indeed a call from an unfamiliar number, although it did actually show the number. I wasn’t sure if I heard that shout correctly, because people often do run down the path shouting various things – two guys (probably gay) were running down the path shouting ‘Marco!’ ‘Polo!’ playfully at each other. I once encountered a pair of guys walking up the path out of the darkness together in the middle of the night (probably gay, once again). When I hear gay guys, I feel a mixture of disgust and envy and jealousy. I claim that I am gay-tolerant, but I actually am sort of disgusted by it, but yet, I leave them alone. But I am also jealous of them, and I also am very fond of a lot of gay men who I know in the workplace, genuinely fond of them.

So I wasn’t sure if it was just somebody shouting something, because I am hard of hearing, and the noise of the highway is surprisingly loud here. So somebody shouted something that sounded like, ‘Nicole! I tried to call you!’ and there was indeed a number on my phone. How would I not hear the phone ring? I was sleeping, and dreaming of a cougar mirroring me with its legs crossed somehow. The lower legs were crossed, but the upper arms were open. That means that I’m not having sex with Jason, but I am hugging him. I did not hear the phone ring while I was dreaming this dream and shouting for my mom to help me. Jason’s mom divorced them and left. I don’t even need to meet their father to know that he must be the SLI, and she must be the IEE (or the less compatible socionic type if she isn’t an IEE). The IEE is always the one who leaves, and the SLI is always the one who stays and takes care of the children. The SLI is the responsible one, and the IEE is the one who goes away to find better opportunities elsewhere in faraway places. So the mother is the Huxley and the father is the Gabin, and I am not going to go meet their father and find out that he is my dual, which is what the voices were
interrogating me about the other day. If I go live with Jason and Eric and then find out that their father is my dual, what should I do? Nothing, because that will not happen. The father is surely the SLI, and I know this without even meeting him. The mother who ran away will be the non-SLI, or the IEE, in the relationship. She isn’t necessarily an IEE, but she is the non-SLI. I cannot imagine a situation where an IEE father would have been left behind to take care of the children, while the mother, who is some sensing type, went away and abandoned them. Sensors usually stay and do the practical things. I know what situation I am going into.

I’m hungry. I feel like I might possibly just lay down again when the battery dies. I don’t know. The rain is awful, but it’s warm at least. I might not feel like going anyplace in the rain.

I can’t hear very well, so I don’t know if somebody really shouted that or not. I wasn’t sure if I could hear Max meowing when he went away, either, over the road noise. I thought maybe I heard him, but I wasn’t sure, and I couldn’t walk, I was too exhausted, I was forced out of Mary Jo’s house and I carried the cat carriers, and couldn’t find where I put the tent, and I walked back and forth down the path, then laid down on the dirt beside the cat carriers, hoping nobody went for a walk down the path and saw me. It is a horrible memory. Max died. I opened the carriers when I finally found the tent, and he followed me up to the tent, but then, he walked away into the bushes, and I had to lay down because I could not walk another step. I had carried all my bags of belongings up and down the path to the tent all night long, while the evil bitch who wanted me to neuter Max wanted to make sure I got out of the house the next day, on the 15th of August. I don’t think she even rented the room to anybody else. She just wanted me out because I disagreed with her about the rightness of universal cat neutering and universal cat litter prevention and universal domestication of cats, when they are capable of living outdoors, if they are born and raised feral.

I couldn’t hear Max meowing for sure, although I thought I heard it, vaguely, over the road noise. I couldn’t get up because I could not walk. And the next day, I could not hunt for him because I was busy re-applying for my McD and Taco Bell jobs. I was quitting the Manpower job. And the assignment ended at the university, but I didn’t want to do some other Manpower assignment anymore, I just wanted to go back to fast food, because it wasn’t working out. Objectively I don’t want to be doing this either, but if I work for a temp agency, it has to be done better. I can’t get up for an 8am job.

So I spent that next day applying for the jobs. So I didn’t hunt for Max that day. And I went home that night and thought I heard the meowing. But then, Max never came when I called, after that. For several days I hoped I would find him in the woods somewhere and he would run out to meet me when I called, but he did not. Then I found his body beside the road. I got rabies for a second time after handling his body, because rabies is chronic in pets who have been vaccinated. Chronic nonlethal rabies is normal. I got rabies from that. I didn’t claim Max died of rabies (another blogger thought that’s what I meant). He got hit by a car, probably because the mind controllers forced him to go to the highway and run out in front of a car, or forced a car to run over him.). But I got rabies because chronic rabies lived in his brain while he was alive, without killing him. All pets live with chronic rabies after being vaccinated. That is why dogs go crazy and become violent after being vaccinated.

I’d want another cat. But I won’t buy one. What I actually want… are my children. They are my main focus. And my farm animals.

Will I go eat? Will I plug in the laptop? Will I try to maybe wash my hair in the sink at the laundromat? Instead of showering? But I need to wash off all this itchy laundry detergent. Traces of it are still on me. Maybe Jesse will invite me to shower at his house. I think I did that once before, but I don’t remember why. Why would I need to shower over there, if I was living in an apartment while I was dating him?

The cougar has its legs crossed, but its arms open. I have to make a date to go to Jason and Eric’s house to meet their father and see if he will let me rent a room. He isn’t a dual, he is a SLI. I need to learn how to make motorized bicycles, and if possible, how to hunt and eat animals, from both of them. Unfortunately I have no time for projects when I am working so many hours to pay rent. Living there without paying rent is too much to expect of them.

I’m at the laundromat. I found something special at Snappy’s: organic apricots that have no sulfur added! I never even looked closely at those before. I saw the packages but never read what was in them. They have several different organic dried fruits there. I will have to try a new one every time. The apricots are brown like they’re supposed to be.

A hole opened in the sky, and I got to see some meteors. There were clouds over everything, but one big space opened up, when the wind was blowing very hard. I thought I wouldn’t get to see any at all, but I did.

Jesse comes home tomorrow. In reality I probably ovulated once and for all today. I was just sort of leading up to it before. The line was really dark and I felt the tiny icepick stabbing me in my lower right abdomen. I don’t always notice those tiny stabbing pains, but I am not always eagerly looking for them and counting the days till they happen. I might normally pass it off as a gas pain or something. Or a parasite biting the inside of my intestines or something, I dunno.

If I were trying to get pregnant, now would be a good time. Jesse and I haven’t agreed to get me pregnant yet, and I have no method of supporting myself without working at a job yet.

I’m done working. Tuesday… Jesse will be here.

December 13, 2015

I actually did not really feel like I was ovulating – nothing unusual, not like yesterday. I was less affectionate and less needy. The line on the urine test was darker today and it was definitely positive for ovulation. I was actually just kind of bitchy and grouchy almost like I had PMS. I was spontaneously moved to write a poem and send it to Eric about how we were struggling at work today, which is weird and which I usually would only do if I were on drugs. I think I am scaring them, Eric and Jason both. Maybe I can tone down my craziness? Too much craziness at once is overwhelming to people.

Tomorrow, I need to get some clothes that I can wear to Jesse’s house. I will also need to take a shower.

I made it. An interest rate hike this Wednesday? Pffff. I’ll believe it when I see it. I’ll believe it when SANTA comes down my CHIMNEY and … lol, I can’t complete that sentence.

December 12, 2015

I didn’t hurl, and I’m probably not going to, hopefully.

The news has been telling people, constantly, over and over and over and over, that sooner or later, the Fed is going to increase interest rates. They do that, hoping that the market will ‘price it in before it happens.’ Or some bullshit which is unnecessary.

I’ll believe it when I see it. If interest rates really do go up this Wednesday, I’ll…. fill in the blank. I’ll do something. I’ll kiss Donald Trump. (He has nothing to do with it. That’s just something the voices in my head suggested.)

If interest rates really do go up, it will be such a trivial amount, and they will probably keep them at this trivial increase for such a long time that it won’t even matter.

I’ll be reading Antal Fekete again, because he has an interesting perspective on the money system. I’d like to know what personality type he is, and I’ve tried to figure it out before but was never sure. Probably an ILI / INTP, I’m guessing, but I could be wrong. He could also be an Alpha NT too. I don’t know.

I probably am ovulating… When my favorite coworker/SLI came in, (I didn’t say this out loud), I was like, ‘Eric! Eric! Eric! Eric!’ and wanted to hug him, and he looked like the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I was wanting to lean against the store manager when he was helping me in the grill today. I seriously am never this huggy/friendly/lovey unless something is going on with my hormones.

The money system…. an interest rate hike. Supposedly it’s ‘already been priced in’ because they’ve been warning us for, like, the past TEN YEARS OR SO that maybe, someday, interest rates might go up again. Over and over. Every single time I read the news it’s, ‘Interest rates might possibly go up sometime soon! Better get prepared!’

Tuesday: Jesse will fly on a plane to Baltimore, and then ride home in the car with his family later that evening. He says he will be there for a short time and then he will come looking for me. I won’t be working that day, so I’ll be either in the tent or else sitting someplace probably playing Terraria or feeling sorry for myself or something, who knows.

Oh… my… gosh. I had one of those conversations. The Christmas music was playing. The store manager is an EII / INFJ (or IFNJ, as I’m calling it now, to emphasize that feelings are first, then intuition, with the proper function order, and to discourage the J/P switch for introverts). I heard ‘Hurry Down My Chimney Tonight,’ or whatever that song is called, and I was like, ‘Ohhhh! I HATE THIS SONG!’ And he said, ‘You’re not allowed to hate this song. Why do you hate this song?’ So I explained that it was not ‘child-friendly.’ And then I also said I didn’t like the entitlement attitude, bring me lots of material goods right now. He said that was missing the point of the song, which was something else, and I said, ‘Yeah, I’m not even going there,’ or something to that effect, I forget exactly what I said.

I told him, I’m the kind of person who never notices the double meaning of something, and then somebody tells me later on, and I’m like, ‘Oh, is THAT what it was all about?’ So yeah, ‘hurry down my chimney’ is sexualizing Santa Claus, which is disgusting. Who wants to have sex with Santa? Even if you know Santa is actually your own husband buying toys for the kids. It brings to mind the Santa image. So little kids don’t understand that the ‘chimney’ is actually the vagina and she’s talking about Santa Claus having sex with her. She needs to get Santa to bring some large, hard, hot, smoking logs of wood to put down the chimney to light her fire, or some crap like that.

Kids have no idea that’s what they’re talking about, and then, when we find it, it’s like we’ve been tricked. Somebody was tricking us by talking about secret things right in front of faces, and making fun of us because we were fools who took it all literally.

And it opens that other can of worms, which is that Jesus Christ himself is nothing but a phallic symbol. That’s blasphemy. Millions and millions of people take the Christian bible literally, believing that a real, actual man, literally died, and literally came back to life, and he literally made a whole bunch of ‘loaves of bread’ that ‘rise’ and ‘smell like fish,’ or something, which is what
uncircumcised penises smell like. So we have infinity loaves and fishes that all rise up out of nothing by a miracle, because Jesus loves to go around giving erections to big groups of men.

Anything or anybody that dies and comes back to life is a phallic symbol. Kenny on South Park is a penis. Jesus Christ is a penis. The Guide in Terraria is also a penis. You have to kill the guide later on, and ‘killing the little man’ means giving an orgasm to a penis. The ‘little man’ who is the son of, or the child of, a larger man, is always a penis, just like Jesus is the son of God, or he is sometimes called the son of man. I didn’t notice this on my own, but the voices in my head noticed it – in Terraria, the voodoo demons are carrying the guide voodoo doll between their legs like a penis. I didn’t even catch that, mostly because I didn’t really get a good look at them, since I was fighting to save my life and was more worried about pressing buttons and clicking things and not really looking at the demons in detail. You have to kill the demons, get the voodoo doll (penis), and then either drop it into lava to kill the guide, or go kill the guide yourself. He comes back to life, just like every penis always does.

After you do this, large parts of the world are covered with ‘pearlstone,’ which is semen. Again, I didn’t notice that myself, the voices in my head told me. I know about the ‘pearl necklace’ but didn’t catch the reference to pearls.

I don’t like it when people talk about secret things right in front of my face, while making a fool of me because I’m taking it literally. Somebody did that in a chatroom. I didn’t know about the idea that ‘killing something is always a reference to a penis having an orgasm and going soft afterwards.’ So this guy kept talking about killing goats, and I didn’t know he was talking about masturbation or sex. I don’t like being made a fool of.

Imagine all the Christians who feel like fools when they find out that Jesus is a penis who dies and is reborn again, and the loaves of bread are also penises, and since everyone in the USA is circumcised, nobody is familiar with the fact that penises are SUPPOSED TO smell like fish if they still have a foreskin on them, so they don’t catch the reference to fishes and they don’t understand what that means. But I do. He even says, in the bible, something like, ‘I’m directing this towards THOSE WHO HAVE EARS TO HEAR.’ This means, not everybody can HEAR HIM, or understand the symbols. Nobody knows what he’s talking about, except a select few people.

People…. take… the bible… LITERALLY. Phallic symbols! All of it! A bunch of creepy weirdos and pedophiles who play with their penises like little puppets and make up little stories about their penises, because they have nothing better to do in their spare time, since television and pornography hasn’t been invented yet! That’s all the bible is! It actually makes me angry to find out that everything everywhere is nothing but a phallic symbol. I don’t like being tricked.

So Santa’s coming down the chimney and blowing a wad of presents all over the living room, which, I guess, is the womb. So the living room has to absorb the load of wet, slimy presents from Santa and make babies out of them. So the living room’s babies will be, I guess, little baby houses. Maybe like dog houses or something. So the house has babies after Santa comes down the chimney. I dunno.

My boyfriend is still in Washington.

trying not to hurl.

December 12, 2015

I went into the bathroom, and it looked like somebody had vomited in the toilet and it hadn’t completely flushed, because of our !#@%#$@%^ water saver toilets that are automatic and that don’t use much water. I didn’t go in that stall, I went in the other one to avoid it, but even so, just going in the bathroom at all was enough to give me the virus. Now I have inhaled the virus and I’m struggling to hold down my vomit for the next half hour that I have to work. I ate something because I was really hungry but I keep feeling like I’m going to throw it back up.

That exact same scenario happened, twice a week, every week, for about three months, while the swine flu was going around. That was when I worked at Weis Market and the bathroom had no ventilation at all.

So I caught the swine flu twice a week every week for three months, and nearly starved to death, and lost like fifteen pounds and looked like a skeleton. I wrote about it in my blog somewhere and called it the ‘swine norovirus,’ but that might have been in my old MySpace blog which doesn’t exist anymore, I’m not sure. I’d have to do a search for it to see. Or it might be in the eagledove9 blog at blogspot.

People get the norovirus every single time a large group of people travel to go to either a football game or a basketball game. Hundreds, or thousands of travelers come into town, bringing the norovirus or the swine flu, twice a week every week, like clockwork, every single time there is a football game. This went on for the entire football season, nearly killing me. I didn’t just have one single incidence of the virus, I had it repeatedly over and over and over and over, and fought it off, dozens of times. I couldn’t just get immune to it so that I was asymptomatic. No, I caught it and had symptoms every time, but it went away after 24 hours like the norovirus, but it was the swine flu.

Being ‘immune’ to a virus does not mean that you have no symptoms. It means that the symptoms are not very severe, and they go away after a day or two.

I bought ginger yesterday, but don’t have it with me. It has sulfur in it, unfortunately. There is no need for sulfite in dried ginger!

I think I was ovulating, because I was preoccupied with wanting to touch people and/or fantasizing about sex all day. I was wanting to touch or be touched, more than usual. I ovulated a couple days before Jesse got home, just like I predicted I would. So we are going to have a neutral, asexual visit from him. I’m in the friend zone. No pheromones, no sex.

no time to write; may have had the LH surge?

December 12, 2015

1:54 PM 12/12/2015

I accidentally left my netbook at home yesterday. I used it to play Terraria the night before, and it wasn’t in my backpack, it was on the floor of the tent kind of under some blankets and stuff.

I think I might possibly be having an LH surge. The test line was similar in darkness to the control line. However, it might also be because it’s like 70 degrees today. The test strips have been frozen the last few times I took the tests, or almost frozen. Maybe it looks darker than usual because it isn’t frozen today. So I will continue doing the tests to see if the test line gets *really* dark in the next couple days.

I had a couple suspicious behaviors that might indicate ovulation. But I don’t have time to explain, have to punch in.

Taking it easy on probably my last day at Taco Bell

December 8, 2015

I came in to work, and everyone was surprised to see me. The manager didn’t know if I had seen that I was scheduled to work today, but actually I did. The schedule had been put up before I wrote the note giving my two weeks’ notice. So I am working now, although I’m just taking a break at the moment.

It takes courage to do particular sorts of things, for me. If I am not given permission to take a lunch break, then I do not feel ‘entitled’ to taking one. I grew up as a libertarian, and I don’t like the word ‘entitled.’ It has taken some counter-brainwashing, or you could call it corruption, from the voices in my head over the past few years to give me an attitude saying that these bastards need to be required by law to give people breaks, otherwise they won’t, and fuck the libertarians – every single corporation will behave exactly the same way, and there won’t be any ‘competitors’ who ‘steal away’ all the employees by offering breaks to them when other corporations don’t offer breaks. The bastards all have to be forced by law to give people breaks, otherwise approximately 100% of the corporations won’t give any breaks to anybody.

I used to be a libertarian. I used to believe competition existed. I used to believe that if we had faith in the free market, the free market would give us fair treatment and fair pay. This belief system has been corrupted over the past few years, and now I’m swinging in the opposite direction: make me the fucking dictator, and I will write some fucking laws to tell these fucking bastards what to do, otherwise they will all simultaneously do the worst possible things they can think of to do, and nobody will offer any alternatives. That’s how it is now.

I couldn’t punch in, because my employee number was taken out of the system, so I’m unofficially working tonight. I did not feel like begging and pleading the Socionic Superego Bastard for a break, because GIVING PEOPLE BREAKS IS NEVER POSSIBLE TO DO, EVER, NO MATTER HOW SLOW WE ARE AND NO MATTER HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE STANDING AROUND DOING NOTHING. So I just walked the fuck out of the store with my coat on and went over to Weis and bought some cookies. Now I’m sitting in the back room where the dish sink is, blogging, while I’m at work. Fuck ’em.

Jesse’s gonna have to have sex with me in a very dark room. That is all I have to say. I would almost be tempted to buy some concealer makeup and put it on my butt. But I don’t believe in hiding reality. My thighs have rash all over them too, and my knees. I’m pretty sure it was the Tide detergent that set it off.

Well, some dishes are coming back. My unofficial break might be over now. I have some work to do. I did wait until a moment when I’d gotten the dishes all caught up.

A disappointing, blurry, out-of-context, barely recognizable photo of part of my naked ass. Have fun!

December 8, 2015

This is all you’re gonna get, people. It’s really difficult to take a decent photograph of my rash, in a bathroom with dim light, using a camera whose focus doesn’t work properly. I hate autofocus. If I ever buy a camera again, it will allow me to choose manual focus. I’m not going to the effort of getting an extremely high quality detailed photo of my naked ass. I haven’t been in the mood to post naked photos very much. The fact that I’m doing this now probably means that I still have some St. John’s Wort residues in my clothing from when I took that one pill a couple weeks ago.

I can just imagine people reading the title of this blog, and then going, ‘Wow! Pictures of a naked ass!’ only to find that it’s so blurry and so lacking context that you can’t even tell what body part it is. Then they’ll be like, ‘But that’s so disappointing! You misled me into thinking this would be a sexy photo!’ Even though I described it as a blurry, disappointing, out-of-context, barely recognizable photo.

It’s like, when my parents used to warn me that I wasn’t going to be getting a lot of presents for Christmas, and I’d be like, ‘Pff. You’re joking,’ and then, it would turn out that I would actually get a whole lot of really awesome presents. Except this isn’t like that at all. It would be like, actually not getting a lot of awesome presents. I think that happened once, and I think I was shocked. I think there actually was a time when I really didn’t get a whole ton of Christmas presents.

So, these mysterious dots, which I am calling either ‘herpes’ or ‘a herpes-like infection,’ started appearing several years ago, and I sometimes try to figure out where it might have come from. I have a few theories. The outbreaks sometimes happen when I catch a cold, which makes them similar to cold sores (a form of herpes). They also happen sometimes if I use St. John’s Wort, and I did recently. But I’ve also had a horrible rash that was caused by something in my laundry, and that might have been what triggered it this time, I don’t know.

It leaves dark scars on my pale white skin, which are not at all attractive or appealing. It might not be visible in this terrible quality photo, but you might also be able to see my ‘spider veins’ on my legs. Actually wait, that was in a different photo which I haven’t bothered to edit yet. I had to edit this photo so that you cannot see any context, to remove any sexually arousing qualities of the photo, so that it looks like an anonymous piece of flesh without any visual cues. You can’t see any sides or edges or lines or anything that would give the context for which body part it is.

Anyway, I have scars from all kinds of things, and spots, and spider veins. Scars from the mystery cold sore-like virus outbreaks, scars from scratching those awful mites that are in the seats at movie theaters, and that are on the toilet seats in public restrooms, which are invisible and similar to bird mites, which I also got when I lived beside the duckpond, and then some dark blue patches from the spider veins in some places, although nowhere near as badly as my mother had them. Hers were much worse than mine. I barely have any spider veins at all compared to her. Then, last of all, there are small amounts of unshaven hair, but nothing that is visible in these pictures. My thighs (and buttocks) do not have a lot of hair on them. I don’t feel like editing the picture of the side of my thigh. This one picture shows the rash well enough. It’s so blurry that it’s useless anyway, and so were the other ones I tried to take.