black coffee again

11:43 AM 6/9/10

Coffee without cream today. They finally caught on that the cream problem was real.

I've gotten an answer from his girlfriend (or, the boy toy's girlfriend, whoever that boy toy is). I'd like to be in a mellow mood when I answer her letter, which is one reason to have sugared black coffee instead of coffee with cream. The cream messes up my mood so much that I could never talk to her in a calm, nice, mature way.

I was thinking about my shield again, and thinking of what I need to buy at Lowe's. Right now the shield isn't even put together enough to test it yet, but they're jumping ahead to the next layers that I want to put on it, and the first two layers are still not done. (Ceiling tiles and aluminum foil: reduces ambient background noise, and reduces ambient background radio such as cell phones and FM music stations).

I'd go in it and then do self-improvement the way I used to when I was younger. I'd think about what really matters to me and what I really want in life. I'd set goals and make plans for how to achieve them. I'd ask myself 'why?' and look for the answer, without some fake answer being given by the voices. I'd motivate myself to do difficult things that I don't want to do, but which will benefit me after they're done.

I'm always being burned whenever I try to do ordinary tasks around the house, especially at the moment when I try to switch from one task to another. At that instant, I notice attacks the most. When I've finished one thing and need to jump instantly into the next task, instead of a quick jump I get buzzed and zapped and distracted. I have to hypnotize myself for an instant to see myself doing the next task that I am about to do, and in that moment of self-hypnosis, either 1. I get attacked, or 2. I become aware of an ongoing attack which suddenly becomes noticeable when I am in self-hypnosis. This causes me to wander around inefficiently while I'm trying to work.

There are other things that make me work inefficiently. I really do have food-sensitive, chemical-sensitive ADHD. It makes me hyper, restless, uncomfortable, and irritable, and it does a lot of other things to me. When I was a child, I was always so uncomfortable that I could never have calmed down enough to focus on a difficult task. I also have some problems when I'm wearing my work uniforms. There's a chemical on them that I'm trying to wash out, and it lowers my blood pressure somewhat. The incident a few days ago, with low blood pressure with almost fainting and passing out, was a virus. Another lady at McD said she had exactly the same thing, but with her, it involved vomiting too. She told me she knew some other people who were also passing out and vomiting. I was sick but I didn't eat a lot and so I probably was lucky enough not to get the vomiting. Even though that incident was a virus, I still do get slightly lower blood pressure from wearing my uniforms. When my blood pressure is low, I can't force myself to hurry no matter how hard I try. I have to raise my blood pressure in order to hurry.

The attackers make me do things inefficiently at work, but again, it's made worse by problems and vulnerabilities that I already have. They are adding to something that already exists, or taking advantage of a weakness. I know this, because some days it's better than usual, whenever my chemical sensitivity problems are better than usual, when I'm wearing new clothes that don't have drugs on them, and that kind of thing.

I used to be able to think about my work routines and I'd troubleshoot problems. I could also ask if something could be done a better way. The murderers destroy my thinking so that I function at a stupid level all of the time, and I just blindly do a routine without questioning it, instead of thinking of better ways it could be done.

That is one lucky thing about being 35 years old, and having lived in another location: For whatever reason, the earlier part of my life was very different from right now, either because 'the system' wasn't as bad as it is now, there were fewer attackers with worse technology than there are now, or because I lived in a location that wasn't being attacked as badly. Whatever it was, I remember a time when things were different, so I have a sense that something is wrong. If I grew up feeling the way I feel now, I wouldn't know that it could be different or better than this.

Harry Browne said the same thing. He said, he actually remembers in the past when doctors made house calls. That was something that really happened in the real world. You could call the local doctor, and they had time to go to your house and visit you while you were sick. This is unthinkable nowadays because the government has destroyed the medical system. In the past, it wasn't as government-controlled as it is now. It's important for people to remember that it doesn't have to be this way. That's how I feel about my mental experiences: it doesn't have to be this way, and it wasn't always this way, and it isn't inevitably this way. It can be different.

*******
There is something that could result from my describing the incidents with me and my friend. If he reads them, he could become so self-conscious that he will stop himself from doing or saying anything when I'm around, because he knows that I'm taking mental pictures of him and writing them down in my journal. I feel like, sometimes, I don't really care if that happens, because we'll never be together anyway - it's hopeless and he's gone, he's not part of my real life. I might as well write my memories and reminiscences, it seems, because he never will be part of my life. That's how it feels sometimes. To not write, to refrain from writing, about him, still wouldn't do any good. I don't see him enough, and he won't see me or talk to me outside of work, and he won't be part of my real life.

That feeling of futility always changes the instant somebody replies to me. If a real person speaks back, suddenly all of the bad feeling is gone. Suddenly there are consequences to talking about someone. It was strange the one time when I had gone months and months sending emails to Martin and not getting a reply, and then, I wrote him a big note on paper, and a few days later, he handed me back a note on paper, and it was the first thing I had heard from him in ages and ages. It was a terrible, terrible note, and I memorized every word, but I was grateful to hear someone speaking back to me instead of ignoring me. He said, 'Nicole, I read some of your note. Honestly, I've tried avoiding you because of an e-mail you sent me, and it was from you. You wrote about us flirting, and I never considered anything flirting. I was open for a friendship, nothing more. I feel I already have a good thing with a girl from home. Sorry, Martin.'

A strange thing happened when my ... my not-really-a-friend, my temporary workplace friend, was texting with me. There was a glitch where the same message got sent to me three times, and then somebody wrote something, which disagreed with his behavior in the real world when he saw me later on. It contradicted him. He told me to stop giving him paper notes, or at least, that was how I interpreted it. He may have been referring to something else when he said to stop. It was unclear. The text message glitches made it confusing. When he saw me later, he was worried and anxious, and he asked me if I had a note for him, and I said no, you told me not to, and then he looked even more anxious. At first, I was glad to be getting a reply in the text messages - that was what I was talking about up above - a real person was answering me, instead of ignoring all the text messages. My whole attitude and my whole writing style changes drastically the instant someone really answers me back. So I was there talking to a real person for a few minutes before we got cut off. Before that happened, it was a great relief to be talking to someone and getting a reply from them, instead of sending notes into silence and never hearing anything back. But I don't know who I was speaking to in the last bit of the conversation.

I had said I was going to describe things that had happened in the past with me and my, I can't even call him a friend today. That would be a crisis of faith, I guess. 'They' forced me to go chasing after him anyway. I wouldn't have even tried it at all in the real world - I knew it was hopeless. My co-worker. To describe things that happened in the past, because I don't believe anything else like that will ever happen again in the future. They were things in the past, and there won't be any more of them. That's what it feels like.

He liked me when I was on drugs. This is one thing that hurts me a lot. I was accidentally on drugs some of the time when we were working together, because there was drug residue on my uniforms. It was St. John's Wort and it made me so much more pleasant and friendly that it seems like he only liked me because I was on drugs. He'll still talk to me nowadays, on the rare occasions when I get to see him, and I'm not really on SJW now (except a tiny bit once in a while from accidental contamination incidents). But if I try to talk to him when I'm off drugs, I'm more sad and grim and serious, and worried and hurt and anxious - all of the negative feelings. I'm much harder to like when I'm off drugs.

When I was on drugs, I had the courage to touch him. I had no fear. I did a few small things like tap him on the arm or pat him on the back, and even though those are just little things, they were wonderful and I remembered them. I stopped doing those things when I cleaned up the drug residues on my uniform.

I'm not sure if I'm ready to describe the incident with the swords. I've had coffee, but not breakfast. Coffee by itself isn't enough.

Writing about the past as though there is no future. In the past, he worked in the evenings, which means he was often working alone. He'd come to me asking for help or advice about something, because he was new. I didn't hesitate to talk to him and spend a few minutes with him, because we were alone. There weren't any other managers around and nobody would be there pushing us to keep working and to hurry up.

Then a couple things happened: he had a car accident, and considering the fact that he has a bleeding disorder, I think he is lucky to be alive, because people with bleeding disorders sometimes die in a minor car accident if they get an internal injury that won't stop bleeding. His accident hurt his back and his neck. The injury kept on hurting. I don't know how to describe this, but my feeling about him changed: there was a traumatized feeling and I - I don't know how to explain this. I felt like it was my fault, but no, not really. I felt like he didn't like me anymore. And also I think he left the evening shift partly because it's hard to take out the trash if you have an injured back - you have to lift heavy boxes up into the dumpster, and the position is really bad even if you DON'T have a back injury, so that was hurting him, and he changed his work schedule to go on day shift instead of evening shift, and it was after his car accident. I felt like he wasn't relaxed and happy anymore, because now, he was in pain, and I had to worry about whether he was comfortable or not. I still don't know if he feels okay, or if he is still in pain. I would want to know. And I would wish I knew some way to fix it, but I don't.

And when that happened, I found out that he didn't wear a seat belt in the car. I felt angry and I wanted to blame him for getting hurt in the accident, because he didn't have on a seat belt. And he still doesn't wear them, I think. He doesn't care if he dies, or he wants to die. And I would have tried to stop him from feeling that way and from doing those things, but I can't. So when he had that accident, I felt like all of my friendship had been no use to him at all. I thought that I mattered to him, but it turned out that actually, he didn't care if he lived or died, he didn't care about anybody, he didn't have any reason to live.

Last week I saw something awful. There was a guy on a motorcycle driving in front of me down the bypass. So we were going over 60 mph. He didn't have on a helmet. And he was 'driving erratically.' He was weaving through the traffic and speeding up and going very fast, and he was tilting way over to the side, and then the other side, and lifting up his arms, and that kind of thing. I could tell he was on drugs and something was wrong and he was suicidal. He was not just having fun. I knew he was on drugs and he couldn't feel anything. The way he was turning and leaning way, way over on the motorcycle - I knew that very soon, he was going to die, and it might even be later that day, farther down the road. I didn't want to see it when it happened. Drugs do that to you. They make you lose your fear and become unable to feel anything. He looked like that.

My co-worker, I can't call him a friend today - he isn't that bad, not like that guy on the motorcycle, but he's driving a car without a seat belt, and he was getting drunk and then driving in his car - he told me he stopped drinking, and I hope that's true, I hope he hasn't started again. I want to stop him from doing those things, but I can't. Whatever is wrong in his life, I want to fix it so that he cares about living, and so that he knows he's taking a risk and he's in danger. But I don't have any influence on him and I'm not even part of his life at all. Whatever I say, whatever I want, whatever I feel, doesn't even matter.

So that changed the way I felt about him, after he had that accident and I found out he didn't even have a seat belt on, and I had the feeling that he didn't care if he lived or died. It was like I couldn't trust him anymore.

I'll see him if we work together during the daytime, but we won't talk together, not for more than a few seconds. There are other people around. There are several female managers, and I get this feeling that they are guarding him. He might think that's silly, but I get the feeling that the three female managers all are protecting him, and they're all attracted to him, and they all feel like he 'belongs' to them, and I can't talk to him if any of those female managers are around. I feel like a competitor, and like they would retaliate if they saw me as a threat. I can't even speak to him or approach him if any of them are around. It's hard to approach him even if there are no managers, if he only has another co-worker nearby, but I can sometimes do it, but it's very awkward and artificial and uncomfortable. I have to force myself to do it. The one time recently when I approached him, it was an accident, because I actually had a reason to go get something from his department, off the shelf, and on my way over there, I walked near him, and he called out to me, so I went over to him.

So I will see him from a distance, but not talk to him, and I can enjoy just having him somewhere nearby and knowing that he is in the area. That is all I will get from him for a while, just knowing he is nearby. I'm not giving him handwritten notes anymore either - I have been trying to use email instead, and trying to actually get replies instead of just writing a big long note and then not getting an answer from him at all. Some of the paper notes asked direct questions, which he never answered. I can't just keep trying something that doesn't work.

He's safe as long as I can see him at work, but when he leaves, he gets in his car, and I don't know if he uses his seat belt or not, and I don't know if he is trying to live a long time or not caring if he dies tomorrow. From one day to the next, I don't know what's going on.

**********
Losing my religion:

His girlfriend did, actually, email me back. She gave the expected reply: You should cut your hair, put on some makeup, and shave your mustache, and if you want my help, I can show you how to do those things, and then maybe guys would like you. That was inevitable - they always say that. I have to see through it, and look for other pieces of real information, real feelings and emotions behind what she says. So I read the note deeply, looking for implied feelings, hinted in the words she said.

I won't be 'losing my religion' to get him to like me. That isn't going to happen. He adjusts to my religion, or nothing. It means, he gets used to me being the way that I am. Not only that, but I don't think it would work, anyway. I could cut my hair, put on makeup, and shave my mustache, and boom, all of a sudden, he would break up with his girlfriend, and he would be having sex with me that very day. It's not like that. I have a lot of problems in my life that he doesn't want to get involved with, and it has little or nothing to do with just having a mustache and dreadlocks and whatever other non-mainstream grooming preferences I have. I have visited fetish websites where the guys talk about how they love female body hair, including mustaches, and no, they're not joking, they really love these things. That is the person I'm looking for, someone who desperately wants what I have, and can't find it anywhere else.

Someone could argue that yes, it IS because of the way I look, and maybe it is, but that doesn't matter, because I am not going to change this. It is very important to me.

She didn't explain why they broke up, and also, she didn't mention having a 'boy toy' who might possibly be him, instead of calling him a boyfriend or whatever he is when they're officially dating. She just said that they broke up because of something that I would never understand.

There is a conflict between what *I* would do, versus what *they* are trying to make me do. They want to make me continue trying to get him to be part of my life, to bond with me in a long-term way, as a friend, or as an adopted family member, or something like that. A real, serious, long-term bond that will not be broken. Meanwhile, I already felt sure that this was not even possible or worth trying. I would drop the attempt right away and not even bother to try. I would just let him go, grieve, and get over it, and go after someone who actually *wanted* to be with me. When I even THINK about grieving and letting him go, I get attacked instantly by people reminding me of all sorts of little things that make it seem like I shouldn't let go of him. (They say stuff like 'Let the little kid die,' and other horrible things.)

Anyway, if I adopt him - and that is an informal adoption, not something where we would actually fill out paperwork - then it means, I want whatever he wants. If something makes him happy, then I have to accept that. That includes his girlfriend. It also includes his ex-girlfriend, the mother of his child. Those people become 'in-laws.' So I would have two adopted daughters-in-law, and I have to accept them. This is the idea that 'they' are showing to me, and trying to get me to accomplish. I am supposed to adopt him and give him some kind of protection and benefits from being in my family. This is supposed to mean that if I get rich someday, I share the wealth with him and also the in-laws. It means that if our society crumbles and the financial system is destroyed, I am supposed to find a way for him and his family to continue putting food on the table and working at a job. There are a lot of things that are beyond my power to do, and 'they' fantasize that I can offer him these things, when I'm nowhere near ready to be able to offer any such thing to anybody. That's the kind of idea that they are always putting in my head.

It reminds me of Judith Swack again. She said that the, ugh, I can hardly write this. The 'Satan Seduction Pattern' is something where 'Satan' offers you a bunch of things you want, and you have to resist the offer and you pray to God to give you everything you need. That was part of her BS therapy. After quitting therapy with her I decided that she herself was playing the role of 'Satan' and using electronic mind control on her clients to make these 'patterns' seem to be happening, so that her clients would pay her to 'fix' the problem. It's like a protection racket. You pay the mafia to 'protect' you, when in reality, it means, you pay the mafia not to attack you. The mafia is the enemy, and you pay them not to attack you. That's like Judith Swack and her therapy. So when these insane ideas are in my head about what I'm supposed to 'offer' him, it reminds me of her and her 'Satan Seduction Patterns' and all of that crap.

That's why I'd like to get inside my shield and look at the reality of this situation without any fake insane ideas in my head. First, if he doesn't care about his life, he probably won't be 'saved' just by being my friend. Whatever is making him feel that way, it's probably too big for me to fix. I'm sure all of his OTHER friends are just as concerned about him as I am. Why would I have some special power that they don't have? Especially when they're all closer to him than I am, and they know him better than I do. I hardly know him at all - he's a co-worker and we've had a few conversations. I can tell there is a lot more to know.

'They' also want me to offer to help him pay his child support. And right now, I am financially so insecure that even though my parents are sending me money to help pay my rent, I STILL cannot make a profit and save any money, because I have to waste money on a lot of things as I deal with my drug residue contamination and other problems. There is no way that I would actually be able to give him money for real over a long period of time. Not only that, but it might do more harm than good, because I know from experience how it feels when somebody keeps giving you money, while you're having problems. It prevents you from learning how to support yourself on your own, and it prevents you from being frugal. (However, I am being attacked, and everything I do is partly the result of the murderers forcing me to do things, so technically it is not really my fault that I can't save any money or fix my problems.)

'It's not my fault.' That's a strange thing to say when you've read books like Nathaniel Branden and Ayn Rand and all the other people who say you must take responsibility for your actions, and not blame other people for what you do. But I have learned that electronic mind control is real. Because of that, I know for certain that a great many things REALLY ARE 'not my fault.' It's strange to say that, when I used to believe I was responsible for my own actions. It's the opposite of all the authors who I respect, it's the opposite of everything I believe in the real world. In a world WITHOUT mind control, then yes, you should take responsibility for your own actions. In the real world. That's not where we are now. We are in a world of people forcing us to hurt ourselves and undermine ourselves.

I knew this blog would wander from topic to topic, and not really get anywhere. I need to eat something - that's why I'm not focused.