No free time. I haven’t understood this yet.

There is no free time. There is work, sleep, and commute. There is eating time, and grooming time, where I comb my extremely tangled hair and then wash it in the sink.

If laundry will be done, it must be done in between these other things. I must do my taxes, hunt for an apartment, go to West Virginia on April 8 for Mom’s remembrance, which Sue announced on Mom’s Facebook page, apply for financial aid to go to the vocational school, and also, fulfill all my hopes and dreams.

I have been thinking of Mom’s death. "They," for many years, have made me fantasize that I would live to be 160 years old. We kept adding to that number (I’m thumb typing this on my phone in the tent, so I’m not writing as quickly as I would like to). It began with 100 years old, and then we started aiming for higher and higher numbers.

It is possible to do, but you can only do it by being born in a society without any Weston Price deformities, no chemicals, no drugs, and maybe there are special substances like RAW apricot oil that might help (I was reading about the Humsa people or something like that, in Pakistan, who used to live to be 150 before modern culture invaded them).

But me, I am not born in that culture. I have Weston Price deformities, and I’ve been vaccinated. I’ve been exposed to pollution and drugs and malnutrition my whole life. My hip joints are very bad now that I’m drinking coffee again. Like clockwork, the more coffee I drink, the worse my hips get.

I’ve seen Mom’s death. I see the shadow of death over me, too. It might be a long, distant shadow, but it might not be as far away as I would like.

Mom’s life went wrong. I can’t say these things at the remembrance ceremony, the things I really think, because I have controversial beliefs, many of which are negative, when this group will want to be positive.

But I think Mom did not have the best kind of true love, because I believe in socionic duality. I also believe she did not fulfill anywhere near her true potential. She had hopes and dreams she never told anyone, and when she died, when the sadness came over her face, which I gently rubbed away with my fingers, that look of sadness, when I saw it and all I could do was sit up very straight, hold her hand, tremble, and let the tears pour down my face – that moment was when she knew for sure that all her hopes and dreams had died, and there would never be a chance to do them now, those secret hopes and dreams and wishes that were never spoken.

We don’t know what those hopes were. But I remember, she traveled and went scuba diving, in the sunshine, in the past. Surely she wanted more adventures like that. I know I still do. I want to go scuba diving too. I want to travel to the sunniest places, and also to Antarctica, and the moon.

It’s like on that movie, "Inside Out," where Joy has to ride the wagon out of the memory pit by herself, leaving the imaginary friend behind (what was his name?), and he says "Take Riley to the moon for me." Then he fades away.

This evokes a strong emotion – I cried so much watching that movie – but at the same time, I don’t believe hopes and dreams and wishes have to die, and I don’t believe they are nothing more than childhood fantasies.

I’m some kind of weird communist nowadays. I don’t have a label. Surely there is a label for me. But I believe there is so much wealth in the world that every human being on earth can afford to go to the moon. This enormous, infinite wealth is being kept away from us all. That is only the tip of the iceberg of what we can do.

The wealth is being drained from us both covertly and overtly, directly and indirectly, in ways that we can see easily, or cannot imagine or understand. The invisible things – lack of opportunity – the whole world could be completely different from how it is now, but we can’t imagine it. "Flying cars by the year 2000," that kind of thing, but much more.

Mom’s life went wrong partly because of all that, and the same for me.

Also, electronic mind control has made it all go wrong for all of us.

I don’t feel comfortable talking openly to the group about this – wait, my phone battery is dying, let me send this.

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