The unspoken hopes and dreams, and how much time is left to do them

I’m still in the tent, but I switched over to the laptop because my phone battery was dying.

I think I said most of what I was thinking in the previous post. It’s just that I was struggling to understand something about Mom’s death, something I can’t really verbalize.

I noticed that some of my feelings have changed. At first, I felt as though Mom was still with me, as though she was almost like my best friend. She came with me in the car whenever I drove to Green Bank WV and Snowshoe WV. She went on that adventure with me. It was also because of her that I started looking into going to school again.

There is something that has to be clarified, but it’s hard to explain. It’s almost as though with Mom alive, I was being ‘held back’ somehow, and now that she is dead, I am suddenly set free to do more things than I could do before. I don’t think this is really true, but it *seems* that way. I had wanted to have children and I had wanted Mom to meet them before she died. That didn’t happen. I had
unexplainable reasons why I did not want to go back to school.

Because of the electronic mind control, which constantly zaps me when I try to think, and also the electromagnetic background noise which seems to be associated with the cell phone networks and probably other radio sources as well, I’m not able to troubleshoot my own thought processes anymore. When a thought process is malfunctioning, it causes me great distress, but I can do nothing about it. When I was younger, before the severe attacks began, I used to be able to go inside my own mind and troubleshoot the thought processes that were malfunctioning. I could analyze everything, ask myself some questions, have insights, fix the broken logic, and change my own mind, change my own beliefs and perceptions, so that I could take appropriate action and not feel internally conflicted anymore.

Nowadays, that is hopelessly impossible to do. I have to passively wait for the electronic mind controllers to change my mind for me, if there is a problem that needs to be changed. I have to passively wait, sometimes for decades, while they do absolutely nothing to fix or improve my situation, while I suffer, while I know perfectly well that something is very, very, very wrong with my life and with my thought processes, my perceptions, my attitudes, the conflicts between my thoughts and my feelings. I cannot do a single thing on my own to fix those things. I cannot look into the future, see a pathway to where I want to go, and start taking the steps down that pathway that will take me there to that goal, although I could do that exact thing in the past before the severe attacks and severe noise interference began.

So, for whatever reason, the controllers decided that upon Mom’s death, they would suddenly change something in my life, and they decided that now, for whatever reason, it is suddenly okay for me to move back into an apartment and try to go back to school so that I can get a better job.

So it might superficially *seem* as though Mom’s life was somehow preventing me from achieving anything, and suddenly, upon her death, I’m free to achieve things. Merely by existing, far far away, back in West Virginia, while I was in Pennsylvania, she was somehow magically holding me back and dragging me down. I don’t really think that’s true. I know what happens when I try to look inside my mind and troubleshoot my broken thought processes. I know what happens when I try to look into the future, look down the path ahead, choose which path I want to take, and take the steps to actually move down that path in reality. I know that I’m being prevented from doing all that on my own. But suddenly, by magic, something changed right now because Mom died.

But there are a few tiny grains of truth in this idea. I know that I am motivated by not having enough time. I know I used to be able to write an essay for literature class only minutes before going into class, and (with a particular teacher, at least) I would get a 100% on that essay. I think that was probably Mrs. Schuda, if I can remember her name – she might have been a little too easy, but she was very, very nice, and I loved her, in a way. I wasn’t able to write an essay, or do a project, weeks or months in advance, and stretch out the plan of what I was going to do over all that time. It could only be done frantically at the very last minute, or not at all.

This applies to life, as well. However, by the time you realize that death is inevitable, and death is close to you, and there’s no time left, you’re also physically sick and weak enough that you’re not able to ‘write that essay’ at the last possible second. You can’t go on a scuba diving trip when you have agonizing pain from cancer, cachexia, starvation, thirst, malnutrition, drug overdoses, and daily drug withdrawals, causing you constant nonstop agony and making you so weak you can barely stand up. At the last minute, when you suddenly realize you ought to have gone on one more scuba diving trip before it was too late, that’s the time when you are no longer able to. It’s not the same as being able to write a good essay half an hour before class starts and getting an A+ on it.

So, there might be grains of truth in the idea that Mom’s death is motivating me to do something. I have seen death with my own eyes. I knew Mom didn’t look good, the last couple times I visited her. She had aged badly. She looked more wrinkled than she should, more hunched than she should be (she had fallen from the hayloft, broken her back, survived, and recovered without paralysis! and healed!, but it left her with a stooping back), and somehow, more gray and withdrawn and unhappy than she should be, as she faded away into the backgrounds in all the photos I saw of her, on other people’s facebook pages, from the past couple years. Gray, gray, gray. That color – it was wrong. Her skin was gray, although not literally outright gray. Lack of color saturation? A lack of redness? A lack of warmth, a lack of blood flow, something, something undefinable. She was not flourishing. She was fading.

I can see myself. I am not really healthy. The fact that my hips have gone bad (unless I stop coffee, which causes the pain to go away immediately! but drinking coffee makes the pain come back) at the age of 42 is an extremely bad sign for my future. I also have a slightly stooping back. I have done drugs that deplete the minerals from the bones, for many years now, because of slavery. These things are not the way the body is supposed to be. We are supposed to be healthy all the way to 100, and then, we can continue living another lifetime until 150 or 160, although we will be wrinkly and stooped.

I read a story of somebody who went to visit an old woman who they claimed was a supercentenarian, although I don’t remember how old they said she was. There were people who claimed she was *really* old, like maybe over 120. The writer described her as being stooped so far over that she was sitting down, hunched over, when he (or she, or whoever) went to interview her. Other people claimed they had always seen her around the town when they themselves were children, and they were all very old now too. People had to bring her food to eat because she couldn’t really walk around very well or do things for herself. I don’t know where she was or what her name was. I only remembered this story because it showed me that you can be stooped over, but still be healthy enough to continue living for many more decades, even though you can’t stand up straight anymore. I just always think that if you are stooping, it means you are extremely unhealthy and you have so many problems that you can’t possibly live very long, and this story contradicted that.

However, I still believe in the other stories I have heard, where people who are 110 are standing up straight and they look healthier than people who are in their 60s. That is the way we are all supposed to be, every one of us.

It’s 11:24 am. I have to go to work overnight at 11 pm. If I’m going to do the laundry, if I’m going to go online and look for apartments, if I’m going to email Dad and tell him about my apartment hunting project and ask for his help, I have to do it soon. My day doesn’t exist – there is no time. I am supposed to sleep sometime during the day so that I can be awake tonight. I really want to do the laundry now that I have money again. Dad did send me some money to help me.

Mom’s death – I was trying to use it to understand the fact that there is no time, in the more general sense, in the larger scale. I’m 42, but I have no money, and a terrible job, and no boyfriend currently (not a real boyfriend, just someone who I can see once in a while if I feel like it), and no real good friends either – I have some friends, I have Kat and Charles, but I can’t be totally open with them about everything. I can’t explain it all to them.

I have this vision of something – the hopes and dreams – and I need to tell it to someone who believes in it. They have to believe in it the right way, and respond to it the right way, and understand it the right way. I can tell my hopes and dreams to Kat and Charles, but they don’t really understand them, and they don’t communicate the right way about them. I need a particular kind of feedback, a particular kind of interaction.

If this is how it is, then how am I going to make any of those dreams happen? How can I make even the most trivial dream happen, the dream of traveling someplace, and it doesn’t even matter where I travel, to travel anyplace interesting at all, and to do some things which are expensive, to do a scuba trip like my parents used to do, and to do some skiing trips (although the risk of sudden death is pretty high from skiing, as I saw when I went to Tussey Mountain a few years ago, when I had just met Jesse not long before, and I remember, I tried to invite him to go with me, but he didn’t go, and I saw how it was possible to run directly into a tree, and die instantly, if you made the slightest mistake).

I want to fly a plane, I want to ski, I want to scuba dive, I want to cross the Arctic and the Antarctic with dog sleds, I want to go whale hunting, I want to ride a ship across the ocean, I want to go into outer space – but how can I make even the smallest and most trivial of those hopes and dreams happen, when my life is the way it is right now, and the shadow of death is over me, maybe not right away, but a long, faraway shadow that I can see coming closer, closer than I would like it to be, closer than the 160 years I was hoping for? How can I make even the smallest dream happen? I can’t even drive a car to Altoona, just down the street from me.

I want to write more songs! Writing songs was extremely important to me, although I tended to do it when I was using herbal drugs, and I don’t want to use herbal drugs anymore. It can still be done without drugs, although less spontaneously. I wanted to make cartoons. I wanted to play the violin or some other musical instruments.

The time for me to do these things is getting smaller and smaller.

The time to do the laundry is also getting smaller. Maybe I can finish this and get up now. It is not easy to do.

My blankets are still covered with pesticides. If I quit coffee, I will still be in that situation, where I have chemical-induced chronic fatigue, until I do a decon. It’s not possible to wash these sleeping bags, even in the largest washers at the laundromat. I tried. I tried washing this brown one, the thickest one meant for the wintertime, but when I took it out of the washer, it had dry spots that hadn’t been touched by water or soap at all. It’s too big and heavy for any washing machine. When I have this fatigue, all I do is sleep, and go to my job, and then sleep again.

I need to make permanent changes in my life so that this pesticide problem stops happening forever and ever. I need to make permanent changes to how I live, to how things are done, so that I will never be exposed to pesticides like this, and so that I will never have to keep throwing things in the garbage, things that cost THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS, TENS OF THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS IN THE GARBAGE. It is a huge amount of money that I have lost because of decontamination. I need to live completely differently to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I don’t merely want to prevent it, I want to make it possible to fix it when it inevitably happens.

The only way to fix it is to throw stuff away a lot, or have some way of cleaning them, which might mean I need to purchase, and own, my very own largest size industrial washing machine, or something, instead of going to a laundromat. If I throw stuff away a lot, that means I have to have a gigantic income of thousands of dollars a month to compensate for having to throw away belongings that cost tens of thousands of dollars. I will have to live inside a very small house which is extremely easy to clean because it will all be on tile floors, where you can mop them every day as needed. I cannot have a single carpet in the house.

Okay… I need to shut this down, and then, get a bag, and put some clothes in it, and find my laundry soap. My body hurts and I don’t want to get up.

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5 Responses to “The unspoken hopes and dreams, and how much time is left to do them”

  1. nebbie916 Says:

    Safe Cat Food on Astrologyzine: http://www.astrologyzine.com/safe-cat-food.shtml

    Pet Population Control on Dogtor J: http://dogtorj.com/main-course/food-intolerance-in-pets-and-their-people/is-the-pet-food-industry-in-the-business-of-population-control/

    How long can a cat live? on the Natural Cat Care blog: http://www.naturalcatcareblog.com/2011/09/whats-your-opinion-about-cat-lifespans-i-need-your-stories/

    All three of these websites say that a cat’s optimal lifespan is at least twice as long as the cat’s average, 12 to 15 year lifespan in the US. The Dogtor J website says that the optimal lifespan of cats is 40 years, whereas the other two websites say that it is 30 years. Many cats have lived over 20 years and some cats have lived over 30 years. There are even unverified reports of cats living over 40 years.

    Oldest Cats on messybeast: http://messybeast.com/longevity.htm

    The unverified claim of a 43 cat is of a farm cat. Farm cats have the opportunity to eat mice, rats, and insects, the diet that they are meant to eat in nature.

    So why is the average life expectancy for cats said to be only 12-15 years when they can live well over 20 or even 30 years?

    Do you think that indoor cats are living less than 20 years because of the crappy dry food diets many are given?

    Which other factors (like vaccinations, indoor air quality, household toxins, litter box dust and toxins, spays and castrations, and low-quality, grain-based cat food) are contributing to the shorter-than-optimal (which is 40 years) lifespan?

    Indoor air quality and flame retardants can cause a cat to have hyperthyroidism as well.

    As for the litter box issue, you can teach a cat to use Purrfect Potty (now called Kitty’s Loo) to avoid having to deal dust and toxins of the litter, as well as avoid the stink, dirty paws scooping the litter, cleaning the litter box, and changing any parts to the litter box if it is automatic.

    Kitty’s Loo: http://www.thepurrfectpotty.com

    Why is the outdoor cat life expectancy said to be much lower that the already paltry 15 years given for indoor cats when many barn cats (which are mostly or completely outdoors) live over 20 years?

  2. nebbie916 Says:

    One of the benefits of Kitty’s Loo that is cited on its webpage is that you don’t share your toilet seat with the cat, like that would be any less sanitary that sharing your toilet seat with other humans. Doesn’t that sound kind of funny?

    I get that other cat toilet seat trainers, like City Kitty and Litter Kwitter can be messy in the training stages, but the main reason Kitty’s Loo is more sanitary is because the cat is squatting over a hole over the water in the toilet bowl rather than stepping in litter, soiled or not, to do its business.

    Kitty’s Loo has other benefits, including
    1) More natural: cat has a clean place to go each time like it does in nature
    2) More efficient: toilet is much harder to get too dirty and stinky for a cat to use, so there are fewer accidents for that reason
    3) More environmentally sustainable: a lifestyle of using strip-mined material (if clay litter is used) in order to eliminate in and for landfilling of bodily waste and litter is hard on the environment and can’t be sustained in the long term
    4) Healthier: toilets don’t bring about allergies or asthma or hide urinary problems the way litter does

  3. Anonymous Says:

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  4. Anonymous Says:

    http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?96172-I-can-See-It-Now-Jails-For-Insolvent-Robots

  5. Anonymous Says:

    How To Make America Great

    So when did America become a land where everyone just sits back and expects the President to solve everything? Because that sounds an AWFUL LOT like the monarchy we broke away from in the first place. This country was designed for its citizens to be involved. SO STOP FUCKING BITCHING- GET THE FUCK OFF YOUR ASSES- AND GET INVOLVED.

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