Awful flu-like illness; Jesse wants me to go to Washington, the crush, sorting my belongings

I feel like a train ran over me. I’m typing on my phone so this will be brief. I wish so badly I could take a few days off work and stay in bed.

The storm drain is not an option. I walked only a short distance into it, and lost the connection to my cell phone, and did indeed hear less electromagnetic background noise when the cell phone was unreachable.

However, the air quality was bad. I don’t know what was in the air, but it was stale, and I would not walk in there without a scuba tank or something to breathe with. It’s big enough to stand up in. I could feel something wrong with the air making me dizzy, and there was no breeze moving through the pipe, because it was a very long pipe with no visible end in sight. I even felt dizzy for several minutes after leaving. It’s not safe.

I wanted to experiment with meditating while shielded, but I won’t do it while suffocating. I did still hear a voice. It told me to hurry up, at one point, and it told me "Time is always with you," as if to imply that they were using time waves to put voices in my head.

I am usually skeptical anytime someone on the internet suggests that the attacks are some super duper awesome high tech thing. I tend to assume their technology is not much different from the mainstream, and that it’s simply difficult to shield oneself from anything at all no matter how low tech and mainstream it is. I don’t like to put them on a pedestal and say the people attacking me have technology 10,000 years ahead of ours, or something. I think that’s disinformation. (Anything that makes the attackers seem intelligent is disinformation. My definition of intelligence is that which tolerates the free will of other living creatures.)

Jesse wants me to go out there to Washington state to stay with him. I want to go too, but to actually do it is harder and more expensive than he imagines. I don’t want to abandon my cat Jacob. I also don’t want to leave behind all my stuff in the tent.

I am trying to sort my belongings. I worked on it the other day, and discarded three whole trash bags of stuff, but there is a lot more paper to sort through. There are things I must sort several more times before I can decide to get rid of them. The warm weather is EXTREMELY helpful. But now I am dying of the FLI (flu-like illness), and wasted yesterday in bed. I was so tired, I only managed to go out and get food, walk a short distance into the storm drain, and do nothing else but sleep all the day and all last night, although I woke up many times. I wanted so badly to continue sorting my belongings yesterday on my day off. I’m so sorry jesse, I know you want me to hurry. I am so, so sick I can barely move. And I have to go to work today.

I got sick immediately after burning some mainstream poison candles. I love candles and was writing in a notebook one night with the candles on, outside the tent, not inside it. Candles are toxic because they are made from petroleum. I am unable to obtain beeswax or tallow candles to test them because I can’t make a trip to the health food stores easily without a car. Taking the bus to go there is an all day project. I might still have irritation from beeswax and tallow candles too, I don’t know. I only know these mainstream candles irritated my throat and sinuses, and within a couple days after that, I caught this horrific cold. This is a demonstration of the fact that people who live in smoke polluted cities catch more colds because their tissues are already irritated and vulnerable.

I am combing my hair to go to work, but it isn’t conditioned so it’s impossible to comb. I wish I could call off, but I am able to stand up and walk. I really want a real shower at the YMCA but didn’t get to go yesterday due to lying in bed half dead all day. My tent is still comfortably warm, but we’ve had ridiculously warm weather in the seventies and sixties.

I am really trying to go visit Jesse now for real. I must pack up my stuff and get rid of as much of it as possible. There are two large plastic tubs full of paper that must be thrown out. They will be sorted into: garbage, for current use, and to save. I have sentimental things in there. I cannot just chuck the entire tub into the incinerator. It requires me to look through them.

I need to go back to struggling to comb my hair. I want a few days off. I want someone to replace me at Maki Yaki.

My "crush": it breaks my heart to think of going away and leaving him. I am not his dual – we are identicals. He is so sweet though. I know he isn’t a future husband. I know how relationships with socionic identicals feel. But still he is the closest person available and I love whoever is closest. I just want to feel what it is like.

But to directly ask him to contact me, to text me, on a piece of paper handed to him, the only way, is such a violation of nature. Primitive man did not hand people pieces of paper saying "text me", they just touched someone until it smoothly led into a relationship. In the workplace, I cannot. Disapproving, hostile, jealous forces surround us. When I become a business owner, I’ll make it an official rule that sex is allowed in the workplace as long as you can still get your work done. Problem solved!

I’ve noticed suddenly that all the other women seem to want him too, now that I am giving attention to him and jealously watching how everyone else interacts with him. Another girl, who I finally decided might be a lookalike (ILI-INTP), often stands beside him and projects a connection between them which I see in her posture. I always think, "Grr, don’t stand so close to him." I really internally growl every time I see her with him. Myro is also fond of him, although I don’t growl at Myro, I just hope to avoid a territorial dispute. I feel like "He’s mine!" "No, he’s mine!" except it is all unspoken.

I feel bad for both Myro and Mike because I, too, was in a semi-dual relationship and I remember it – there is a feeling that something is missing, that neither can be exactly what the other needs. I know.

Today is gonna be a REALLY bad hair day. I just have to put it in a bun again. A bun usually means I wasn’t able to comb it. My hair is a tangled wad right now. Oh, I don’t want to go to work!!!


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