Putting on a 'display' to scare off competitors

10:53 AM 7/20/10

Yesterday I went out and got a bunch of cardboard out of the dumpsters at McD. I don't mind messing around in McD's dumpsters because I'm an employee and I'm so familiar with those dumpsters already, even though I wasn't at my own store. I need cardboard for my drug residues at home. I put it in certain places, like to cover the floor of an area with the residues, or to use as a box to put things in to keep them off the floor and away from other contaminated objects. I go through a lot of cardboard, but it's free, except the cost of the effort of getting it and bringing it home.

I slept badly. I put down a plastic drop cloth over my bed. It was meant to cover the residues that seemed to be on my bed. However, I still couldn't sleep. My skin stuck to the plastic and it moved with me every time I moved. The murderers were bothering me too, attacking and forcing me to stay awake. I still felt like there was ephedra on me somehow. I know from experience that ephedra can go through plastic, and I have to use paper or cardboard instead. Paper has worked very well all this time, but plastic is somehow too thin and it seems to be permeable to the ephedra molecule. I think ephedra might be a nonpolar molecule, but I'm not sure. I just wasn't ready to get all the cardboard and paper out of my car and set up the bed. That will be today's project.

The drugs need to be patched up very soon. They are making me more aggressive than I should be. I am ashamed to tell about what happened with Carrie, but I ought to tell about it, I think. Sometimes I do things that I feel ashamed of because of the drugs pushing me to go against my better judgment, or I say something to someone in a way that is too rude or ungrateful or something.

Here is the Carrie situation.

Several months ago, I first saw Carrie when Curtis brought her into Weis and walked around with her, and then brought her over to introduce her to me. We talked a little bit and she was nice to me.

A while later, maybe a few weeks or months, I forget, I decided to try to find Curtis on facebook. I found him and asked him to be a friend. But before he even responded, Carrie responded first by requesting me to be a friend. And she saw me in person and asked me if I had gotten her friend request, because she said that sometimes she sent a request and people didn't get it. (I can relate to that.) So I said yes to her, and Curtis said yes to me. I was temporarily his friend on facebook, but that didn't last long. I did it because I wanted to see updates about what was going on in his life, because there was a chance that he was going to go to jail for drunk driving. I didn't want him to just disappear without me knowing what was going on. So I wanted to see facebook.

I have written a couple of emails to Carrie. Once I wrote to her because she broke up with Curtis. I told her a couple of things: 1. that I was interested in him, and 2. that I wanted him to be happy, which meant that he needed a stable relationship with somebody who wouldn't break up with him as a way to 'punish' him, control him, or because of something trivial and petty.

She responded to me and said that I would never be able to understand what had happened between her and him. She said that he needed to figure some things out before they could get back together. Also, she advised me that I should shave my mustache and cut my hair and put on a little makeup if I wanted to get a guy. (If I wanted to get just 'any guy,' I don't need to do anything at all. I can go to a dating website and find, literally, THOUSANDS of men, and that is not an exaggeration, who would go out with me this very instant, the way I am - but they're guys who I find unattractive, because I am very picky, and because I'm a skinny-guy-o-phile, whatever that is.)

I had some help from 'the voices,' who put words into my mouth. I don't know what I would have said in the real world. Probably nothing at all. They made me say, 'I'm not here to talk about how I style my hair,' or something like that, 'I'm here to tell you that I want him to be happy and that means he needs someone who won't break up with him.' I don't recall my exact words.

That conversation ended, after a few letters, and we let it go.

But I have written to her again just recently. I was panicking, and I was on drugs, like I have been over the past couple weeks with my drug residues. It's intensifying my emotions and making me more aggressive and making me more emotional. I WANT to get rid of the drug residues. I don't want to live this way. I am not doing this on purpose. But it's impossible to explain to any mainstream-world people who have no idea that you can handle a few seeds and a few tiny plant sprouts and then contaminate everything you own, forever and ever, with drug residues that go through your skin and cause intense reactions from a tiny microdose.

I was panicking because he told me he got thrown out, and he was moving in with Carrie, and he's about to lose his license, so she'll be driving him. Because of panicking, I wrote to her too, before I talked to him on the phone and had my questions answered. There are situations where I can do something socially inappropriate because I am so scared of losing someone that nothing matters anymore. 'They,' the voices, are comparing it to the time when I was courageous enough to ask Martin to give me a hug, because I knew I was losing him when he went away for the summer at the end of the semester. I can do things like that when I am scared of losing someone, when it's the last time I'll see them, when something important or terrible is going on that makes it so nothing else matters. So I didn't care much about what Carrie thought, or how she might feel, or whether I was being cruel to her by talking to her about her boyfriend, I just did it, I sent her an email.

I asked her some questions like whether he had to pay rent. She responded mostly by telling me that I should get over Curtis, that I was too mature for him and that I needed to find myself a mature guy. (This is laughable for someone who is learning that I can call myself a hebephile or an ephebophile because I am so strongly attracted to teenagers, and grown men are mostly unattractive to me.) She put on a big loud 'display' on facebook, on her status updates, talking about how wonderful he was, how great it was to be with him, how much they loved each other, and he responded the same way and wrote much the same thing under her comments. I'm calling it a 'display' because I've been thinking of this as animal behavior, where an animal puts on a display, making loud noises or fluffing up its feathers to scare off the threatening competitor, that kind of thing. A display.  On FB she said things like, 'Sorry to all the girls who wanted him and can't have him, I've got him and I'm not letting him go,' that kind of thing.

'Displays' are something that I actually like about Curtis. He instinctively does them. Once we were in the back room and I was pushing a cart and going somewhere when he stopped and talked with me. Some other guys were there. I was talking to another guy at first, and then Curtis came over to the cart I was pushing, touched it and leaned on it, became the center of attention, and talked to me and blocked out the other guy who was talking to me. He did it in a subtle, quiet way, a minimal way, just a few small things to take my attention away from the other guy, to stop that conversation and make me talk to him instead. And the other guy sensed it, and he looked down at the floor. I don't know if he was angry, he probably was. The other guy stopped talking to me. I called it a 'display,' a social display saying that he was my first priority, and again, this was subtle. He does little things like that frequently.

He also 'brownnoses' me, and that's not my word, that's somebody else's word, because some of the other guys said he was a brownnoser. There is no reason on earth to brownnose me. I am nobody. I'm not a manager, I'm not anybody important, I'm just another employee. He flatters me and calls me his pet names, and he often does it in front of other people, sometimes in front of customers, sometimes in front of an 'inferior,' or a new guy. The other day he called me his name in front of the new guy, to show that he has something special going on with me and the new guy shouldn't try to compete.

No, I don't think that I'm actually all that special to him, because he does this kind of thing with lots of different women, and he is popular with women, and they all seem to be fond of him, although they haven't all tried texting and calling him and giving him notes and doing all the other things I have done. Most of them probably haven't tried to take it outside the workplace. Many of the women are older than he is. I don't usually get a chance to see him talking to young women his own age. From talking to him, I know that he is almost always dating somebody, although he might go a month without having a girlfriend if he breaks up with someone. He has mentioned several girlfriends over the year that I've known him.

('Why didn't anything get done?' 'I was writing.' I was thinking of asking someone to help me by calling me and checking to see what tasks and projects I had gotten done this week, and asking me (compassionately) why things didn't get done. Writing is all I ever want to do. I haven't played video games in a while, thank goodness, but when I have them, video games are all I want to do, until I win.)

It's strange to me, my blog is getting read by a steady number of people. There is always someone reading it even on the days when I haven't posted anything. People are finding me in the google results, and the ones that are getting the most hits are the same subjects that I'm fascinated with. For instance, one of my most popular posts is 'Yulia Tyroschenko,' and I might not be spelling that correctly, where I wrote about how I googled her and tried to find out whether that braid around her head is fake. Everyone else wants to know the same thing! That tells me that I'm not the only one, that LOTS of people are interested in long hair and unusual hair styles, especially if they see it on celebrities, politicians, and other people in the media. All I have to do is talk about celebrity hairstyles and lots of people will start reading my blog, I guess. But anyway I get the impression that a lot of people are finding certain blog posts, particular ones, in google results, for subjects that a lot of people are googling. It doesn't necessarily mean that they permanently subscribe to my blog and they keep reading all my romance-novel, love-story, diary-entry blogging. They might only read about Yulia Tyroschenko (or whatever) and then never see me again. Still it's interesting to see the steady stream of people looking at my blog.

Getting me a social life... Somebody other than Curtis. It's always been very difficult to make me be sociable. This is a brief history of my social life:

Elementary school: I didn't have a 'friend group.' I usually had just one best friend, and barely saw anyone else, though I might visit someone else once in a while. I played with toys, and read books, alone, or with my brother John - and I loved my brother dearly and we both felt that we were the only people on earth who understood each other. (Yes, we fought sometimes when we were kids, and it wasn't always perfect, but in general we had a good relationship.)

Middle school: Best friend Rachael. A couple other friends, but they didn't really understand me, and I couldn't be alone with them. They usually worked best if it was me, Rachael, and the other girls together in a group. Being alone with the others was awkward, nothing to talk about, nothing to do, no chemistry.

High school: I started dating Terry and spent most of my time with him, and the rest of my time with Rachael. Sometimes I sat at a table in the morning and talked with the group sitting there, but I didn't really care about them or open up to them. Still, it resembled a group.

College: This was my strongest 'group' time. I had several friends and we went everywhere together. We were all in the AP group, Advanced Placement, for people who got good grades in high school and had taken AP classes and AP tests. We had a few college credits already because of that, so we took different classes than everyone else did, and we took them together, and we lived in the same hallway in the same dormitory. Our little group went to the cafeteria together most of the time, and the center of the group was Valencia, who talked the most, and told the most stories, and made everyone laugh. Any one of us could be alone with Valencia, but we (the rest of us) could not easily be alone with each other. Valencia was able to be everyone's best friend. (This might mean that her instinctual stacking is So/Sx, the 'best friend.' She always had multiple friendships. And she was a comedian, making jokes, making fun of people in a gentle way, and 'comedian' is another thing associated with the So/Sx type.) Still, the rest of us could eat lunch together if we couldn't find Valencia to 'glue' the group together, and I got along well with Jessie, the girl who had some disease that made her unable to walk straight and keep her balance. So Jessie and I often ate together.

Eating meals together was the most important social activity we did. I will always miss that. In fact, the books about intentional communities say that eating meals together is, almost, the number one most important thing that a community needs to do to guarantee that it 'feels like a community' and stays together. Eating meals together is crucial. You can't build a community and actually FEEL together unless you eat together. And you will probably remember the same thing, eating meals in the cafeteria in school with your group of friends, and how that was 'the' social time period where everything happened. (Although I guess things happened during recess, too.)

After college: Total isolation. I became a hermit. I had a couple housemates, but after moving into my boyfriend's house, I didn't keep in touch with the old housemates. Then I moved into my own place, alone, and sometimes visited my boyfriend, and that was all. Now, I'm not with him anymore, and the only boyfriend I have is the guy who's married, who I can't visit freely, and he's sick, and we don't do much together except go to the store. Plus, I'm in Pennsylvania, far away from my school friends. So the online world is where I read about things other people are doing, and that's about all I have.

I would be more sociable IF:...

if the people believed some of the same things I believe. I need to be around people who can tolerate the idea that maybe, just maybe, they don't know all that there is to know in the world. They have to be just a little bit open minded about the unknown, the strange, the weird, the secrets and conspiracy theories, the UFOs, psychic powers, ghosts, the mind control systems, whatever. (No, I don't worry about UFOs, and in fact I never think about them, but that's just an example.) They don't necessarily need to dwell on those things, they just need to be SLIGHTLY open to the possibility of them, and SLIGHTLY interested in things that are strange and unusual. Slightly aware that the world isn't just a simple place where everything is what it seems. My entire life is lived in a world of strange things that nobody else knows about, and I can't even begin to get close to somebody if they can't tolerate the slightest hint of strangeness.

If you've read Harry Potter, then think of it as, you're making friends with Luna Lovegood. You will have to get used to hearing unexpected comments about things you've never heard of before. There's always some weird long story about why she does what she does. She wears shoes to bed because she sleepwalks, but somebody's stealing all of her shoes, and she suspects nargles are behind it, so she wears a charm to repel the nargles. As for me, I take off my shoes before getting into your car or your house - although I might not take them off before getting into the car, but I will really, really feel guilty if I don't - because there are drug residues on the bottom of my shoes that will cause you to have extremely severe insomnia, and you won't know what's causing it, and you'll go to the doctor and get addicted to sleeping pills because of my ephedra footprints. Trying to explain that to a closed-minded 'mainstream' person who believes that the only truth is what the government and the television tells us is true...

I think I'll go ahead and post this... I need to do some projects today, and I'm focused on patching up the drug residue outbreaks... I also need to make a 'smaller infinity,' get rid of some contaminated belongings in the storage unit, so that the contamination isn't infinite, so it won't last forever, so I don't feel hopeless about it.