8:21 PM 8/11/10
I visited Peter in the hospital today. They did an operation on the artery in his left leg to improve the blood flow to his foot. He says that the pain has been greatly reduced.
I have a bunch of different things to say, but I don't know if I'll be able to say them all.
the dream
inception
socializing
edward cullen
myspace
curtis (that's always in the list of topics)
I saw the movie Inception. I liked it and I might see it again. Somehow it didn't 'push my buttons' in quite the right way to make me feel strong emotions. It might be because there was too much music throughout the whole movie, constantly. I like it to be a little quieter. If I watch it again, maybe I'll figure out why it didn't quite work for me.
There are people who create every dream that I dream every night, just like in that movie. But it's not just one dream, and it's not to accomplish some big important purpose. I am just an ordinary person and there is no big purpose other than to entertain some people who are using software and equipment for purposes that they shouldn't be using it for. I don't know what kind of software or what methods they use to create my dreams, but I do know that all of my dreams are fake. I don't know when was the last time I had a real dream. They are doing it for harassment reasons, for entertainment, and probably, because somebody somewhere paid them to destroy my life, for unknown reasons.
I am familiar with something - I could relate to the victim, the target, in that movie - the guy whose corporation they wanted to break up. When he reconciled with his father, it was supposed to be a big, emotionally moving moment, something deep and wonderful and special. But it was fake, and it was done for somebody's purpose, and that purpose had nothing to do with helping that guy to develop himself spiritually. That guy thought that he was experiencing spiritual development, spiritual growth, by realizing that he shouldn't be like his father. But it was all fake and manipulated. My experiences are just like that. I had fake religious experiences when I was doing therapy with Judith Swack, and they were so fake and cheesy that I couldn't possibly have ever believed they were real. I don't know what her OTHER clients experienced, but if theirs was as fake and cheesy as mine was, then there must be a lot of other disillusioned people like me - I can't imagine ANYONE would believe it.
******
I think it was last night that I sent an email to Curtis. 'They' gave me a dream when I took a nap afterwards. Supposedly, he was grateful to receive the email. So they gave me a sexual dream. I'm actually not really angry about this particular dream. It was sort of cute. But I have to explain the story behind it.
The voices called me the 'COW' - Creepy Old Woman - as a joke, because I don't look really old, and sometimes, young guys find me attractive - though I haven't actually hooked up with any of them yet. So when we say that I'm the 'COW', we don't really mean it, it's a joke. (But when I get an email from Curtis on MySpace, which he claims he doesn't remember sending, because he was drunk all that week, and the email says that I'm 35 years old and it gives him the creeps, THAT, on the other hand, is NOT funny, and in fact, it hurt me very badly and I haven't forgotten it. As usual I question whether he really sent the email or whether it was from the hackers.)
*taboo alert* - I've been paying attention, in the last 24 hours, to my feeling of anxiety whenever I talk about a social taboo. Anytime I say some theory or belief of mine that I know most of society disagrees with, I feel this sense of anxiety, and it's exactly like in the movie, Inception, where all the 'subconscious projections' suddenly turn their heads and look directly at you, because they've detected an intruder. I get that feeling that all of society turns its hundred million hostile faces towards me, when I speak of a social taboo. There is danger in speaking a taboo. You can get committed to a mental hospital. You can get convicted of harassment or other crimes. You can lose your job. You can destroy your reputation. Many dangerous things can happen to a person who speaks a social taboo. 'We' have been paying attention to my social instinct in the last few days, as we study my Ichazo's Instinctual Stackings. The social instinct seeks protection and empowerment within larger social groups, and it fears displacement of your social position or harm to your reputation.
The taboo was: Hackers, unknown people, are reading my email, watching everything I do on my computer, and interfering with my life, for their own malicious reasons. They interfere with my emails, and I have gotten emails claiming to be from a particular person but which were written in a different style, as though some other person wrote it. This is all taboo - you can't just walk out on the street and talk about this with the average person. They will think it's a conspiracy theory and you're delusional. Hackers, however, and other groups of people, might agree with you, because they know it's possible, and they know people are malicious enough to do that. So some specific groups of people will believe you. That's my opposite of the hundred million hostile faces. For every million hostile faces, there are a million smiling faces somewhere else. You just have to find them.
So anyway, I am the COW. And because I'm the COW, Curtis is 'the bull.' So in the dream, they portrayed him as a black bull. Why was he black? Because he's another Angus cow, like I am. I'm an Angus cow, because I'm not a dairy cow: I don't have big boobs. And the Angus cows are beef cows, which means they're meant to be eaten. So that's why he was a black bull. Come to think of it, he doesn't have big boobs either. He was a rather small black bull, the size of a large dog, and he had long soft pettable fur, not like the usual fur on a cow or bull. I was sitting in my front yard at the house in West Virginia. That's probably because I was writing a note about my father's money, wondering about how much I will inherit someday (and may that be a long, long way off, I'm not rushing it). So that's why I was at that house, because I guess my brother John and I will inherit the house.
So this black bull runs up to me, and I get scared of it, because who wouldn't be scared when a big, scary, dangerous animal runs up to you. It laid down on its back in the 'submissive' position and wanted me to rub its belly. And I know which incident this is referring to. That was the time when, not too long ago, I was getting soup from the soup bar and Curtis came up to me and stood very close and called me some erotic words including the f-word and magnetically pulled me towards him to touch him. But instead I started laughing, the worst possible thing I could have ever done, and I lost an opportunity. So in the dream I didn't start laughing, I just rubbed the bull's belly like I was supposed to, and then I was jerking him off - I could feel the soft-hard skin sliding under my hand - and (I can't write this) he came on my leg, and I moaned when he came. And then he was relaxed and peaceful.
Then in the next dream he was a 'dragon,' and I've already blogged about the dragon some time ago. Curtis also has a dragon decal on his car. The dragon was dignified and serious and unapproachable - different from the black bull in the other dream. I think he was a pale, lavender purple color, but I'm not sure. I don't know why he was that color. The dragon was talking to me, unlike the bull, who said nothing, and the dragon told me things that I can't remember - I never can remember what they say in the dreams. Somehow I ended up climbing up on the dragon's head and then massaging its neck, all the way down its back, and I had something on my hands, something slippery like shampoo. I was stroking the dragon's back and I don't remember how it ended. I think I slid down its tail and landed on the floor. That was because I've touched Curtis's back once in a while in the real world, and I tried to tell him that these were not just casual, friendly touches, because I never touch anybody - I was touching him because I was sexually attracted to him, and all of the touching was sexual, not friendly.
Like I said, I didn't get mad about the dreams, because they were actually sort of cute and enjoyable.
I'm reading Twilight. When I told my brother I had seen the movie and I liked the soundtrack, he had a sort of 'ick' reaction, and I understood - originally I felt the same way. He had heard that the movies weren't very good. Actually, I myself feel that the movies weren't very well done, but I'm reading the books now and I like the books better, I think. They are not a life-changing masterpiece but I'm enjoying them. And I will probably enjoy them more as I go along. I didn't like Harry Potter at first, either, and before I read it, I was very strongly anti-Potter because it was so popular, and, in my experience, if something is very popular, it's something I won't like. I have an almost physical instinct to avoid everything that's popular, and look for little-known, esoteric, obscure things that nobody else has found. Still, now that I've read Harry Potter, and now Twilight, I'm in with the popular crowd on this opinion. But I can't use those books to tell me whether or not I'll like somebody. If somebody tells me that they like Harry Potter, I still might not like them overall as a person.
Anyway, Edward Cullen laughs at Bella a lot in the first book. It happened often enough that I noticed it. I wondered about this because I have accidentally laughed at Curtis several times and felt terrible about it. It usually ruined some opportunity or destroyed the trust that he feels for me.
Something that I'm feeling while I read the book is a frustration that they can't spend enough time together, and instead, they just have these special moments, with big spaces in between where they don't see each other enough. I know *exactly* how that feels.
I don't remember what specifically I was going to say about MySpace. I've been trying to socialize, to meet people online, and I'm only doing it little by little. I don't like meeting new people whenever I still have an obsession with one specific person in my mind, someone who looks more beautiful and more attractive to me than all these other people I'm meeting. And I'm afraid that I'll abandon them, the new people I meet, if Curtis gives me the slightest sign of being friendly, if he gives me any hope of a relationship outside work.
I think I'll post this now. The title turned out to be somewhat ironic. It's not really about socializing.
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
easy pickings
10:15 AM 6/29/10
Warning, this one's really long. I couldn't stop writing. Today, I actually put the tag 'true romance' on my blog, because I looked at a true romance magazine yesterday, and I saw that this really is the genre that I am writing.
The 'easy pickings' strategy.
They woke me up this morning with the 'psychopath' feeling. There is this 'feeling,' a very specific feeling, a feeling of profound and extreme distrust, which represents the idea of a psychopath. I had to fight against the 'psychopath' belief system.
The 'psychopath' idea started a long time ago. I remember when I was a teenager, I was probably being interrogated by some attacker, but back then, I thought that it was a 'psychic' experience that I was having when I talked to voices in my head. I was being interrogated by someone who wondered if there was such a thing as absolute evil, and they were distrusting, and they asked me if *I* was evil. A soulless robot, unable to feel guilty about anything. Everything it does is insincere. Everything it does is manipulative, done to accomplish a purpose. I was aware of this idea all the way back when I was a teenager. I remembered it again in 2000 or so when I read John Douglas's books about serial killers. (It can also be called a sociopath. There are some slight differences between them.)
Maybe they woke me up with that feeling today because yesterday I wrote about the 'killing your best friend' dream. I'm not sure if I'm the best person to explain this, since it's not really 'my thing.'
If I wander too far off topic, I won't be able to explain the 'easy pickings' idea. I'll just say that really quickly and then go on to the other subject. The 'easy pickings' idea is this: Curtis is impossible to reach, by phone, email, text message, or even handwritten note. He responds to them, by changing his behavior, by being more trusting and affectionate towards me after reading a note, but he doesn't respond to direct questions or do things I ask him to do.
I see him as an 'at-risk youth.' He doesn't mind the idea of going into the military. He doesn't wear a seat belt. He gets drunk and goes driving his car. He lost his license but I know he is still driving, so sooner or later, he might possibly have another conflict with the law again.
Some of this might possibly fit the description of 'poor judgment,' in the description of what happens to a fetal alcohol syndrome baby. It changes the brain in ways that cause a person to have learning disabilities and poor judgment. His condition is mild, because they say that the more facial deformities you have, the more severe it is, and his face is relatively normal, except that he might have a cleft lip scar - there is a scar above his lip and I don't know if it was caused by an accident or cleft lip surgery. He might have a slightly reduced philtrum, the groove that runs from the nose to the lips, but if I recall, it looks like he still does have one. I'm not sure. I can't usually get a close enough look. Okay, I looked at a photo, and he does have one, but it isn't a very deep one. It varies from person to person anyway.
The TV show that I watched at Peter's house a few weeks ago showed 'at-risk youth' going into the military, and some of them came home and committed crimes and ended up in jail.
I don't want anything to happen to him, and it's clear that he is an 'at-risk youth.' In that respect, he is a victim, someone born with a problem or tendency that isn't his fault, born into a world that wasn't able to fix the problem. At the same time, there is only so much that I can do. I'm too poor to bail him out of jail or buy him new cars. I can only provide moral support. I can be someone he runs to whenever his girlfriends break up with him. But I live too far away to easily give him rides in my car, and anyway, I don't want him getting any drug residues on his shoes, and I'm the weird lady with plastic all over her car seats, so it wouldn't look good to have me driving him up to his friends' houses or wherever he was trying to go. So I can't even do much for him. And if I can't contact him and get a reply by any means, email, phone, or anything, then I can't even talk to him and find out what kind of relationship he would be willing to have with me.
So when I say 'easy pickings' I mean that sooner or later I just can't waste any more effort trying to do something that can't be done. I can find easier people to 'hang out' with, people who I can actually reach by phone or email. Even if it's not his fault, even if he can't answer the phone because he's being attacked, even if the phone calls don't get through, and those things aren't his fault, still, I can find people who are easier to reach. I can't do much for him anyway. I can enjoy his company, and he can enjoy mine. Other than that, I can't do much.
'They' have this idea that he represents 'the enemy,' in a way - that the button-pushers, as I call them, the people who are actually operating the electronic harassment equipment, the computers and devices and weapons being used to attack me, are in a lot of ways just like him. That sounds like 'the military' to me. The 'at-risk youth' go into the military, and they do what they're told, and they can't build a better life for themselves because they have reading and writing and math disabilities, and poor judgment, and poor self-control, and the military offers them a better paying job. And apparently the 'button pushers' are in a similar situation. They get paid to do what they do. So 'they' want me to see him as a lovable version of 'the enemy.' Look at what your enemies would be if they were cute and lovable and someone you felt attracted to and devoted to, someone you couldn't help loving no matter what they did to you.
I have to quickly mention the reason why I made the name 'button-pushers.' When the attacks first began, I assumed that the voice I heard in my head was actually being sent to me by the person who was saying whatever I heard. Like, if you heard a famous celebrity speaking to you (and no, I didn't usually hear the voices of celebrities, but this is just an example), you would believe that that person, theirself, was operating the equipment and talking to you. (I'm having a grammar problem. I don't like how English doesn't have a genderless pronoun for 'they' and 'them' with 'self.' You can say 'themselves' if it's plural, but you can't say it if it's singular. I want to say 'he or she himself or herself.' You know what I mean.)
To make that more clear, let's imagine that I said something to somebody else, like 'Hi, how are you?' and someone else recorded me saying that. Then, somebody plays back the recording, and beams it into somebody's head, so they mistakenly believe that I'm the one pushing the buttons on the device that's beaming it into their head, and I'm right that very moment saying 'Hi, how are you?' I would get blamed for talking to them, because it was MY voice they heard in their head. It's a way to trick someone into attacking innocent people. 'I kept hearing YOUR voice in my head! You must be an attacker!' But actually that's not true. It was recorded earlier, and even though it's my voice, I might have nothing to do with it at all. I'm not the one who tape recorded it and then beamed it into someone's head. The voice you hear might not actually be sent to you from the person who spoke the words.
After my cat Alexander died, it was a week or two later, and somebody beamed a recording of Alexander's meow into my head. His voice was recognizable. You can recognize a cat's individual voice the same way you recognize a person's. It was perfectly clear. Obviously, since I had seen Alexander's dead body and buried it myself, I knew Alex wasn't alive, and he wasn't meowing to me, and he certainly wasn't pushing buttons on an electronic harassment weapon. That's a clear demonstration showing that the voice you hear might not be the same person operating the equipment.
So I had lots of times when little scripted scenarios were going on in my head, in the beginning, especially back when I was using St. John's Wort, and I would fight with the voices and tell them I wanted to kill them and I would fantasize about killing them. They would respond by doing even more things to torture me and make me enraged. That is why I call them the murderers, because they REALLY DO try to enrage the victims and make them go postal and go out and shoot people. They REALLY DO try to make you do that. It has happened to me, except usually when they do it to me, they claim they're trying to protect me and prevent me from doing anything. I think that I have had an easier time than many other electronic harassment victims who describe much more horrible things happening to them.
The scripted fantasy scenarios would often involve a 'nice' person who was trying to help me, and I would respond by getting enraged at that person and threatening them. After a while, I realized that the 'nice' person probably wasn't the one actually pushing buttons on a device to put their voice in my head. In fact, the 'nice' person might, for all I know, be someone far away who thinks he's having a 'psychic experience.' He might fantasize that he's astral-projecting into the mind of someone who 'needs help,' when actually, a 'button-pusher,' the person operating a piece of equipment, is recording everything he says, beaming it into my head, and beaming my replies back to him. He and I are talking to each other through a system controlled by the murderers, but neither of us are actually operating the system. We both might interpret it as a 'psychic' experience.
That's the reason why I made up the phrase 'button-pushers' to refer to the people who are actually operating a piece of equipment, as opposed to the people who are speaking, the voices I hear, the people who interact with me - they might innocently think they're just having a 'psychic' experience with me.
Every time I write about something like this, I get attacks from people who try to imitate whatever I was describing. But those imitation attacks are usually the cheap, low-tech attacks, the kind of equipment that you can build in your own home. The attacks that I'm describing are much quieter and more subtle. The low-tech attacks usually silence my entire brain, put me into a trance for a second or two, and override everything I was thinking and doing, for a second, and if it goes on too long, I forget everything that they said to me while I was in the trance. I can only remember the last little bit of what they said. And it often has poor audio quality, like a badly tuned radio with static. Those are the low-tech attacks.
The high-tech attacks are much quieter, and they don't put me into a trance quite as badly. I feel like I can still remain conscious and functioning while I talk back to them, instead of being completely silenced and disabled. So I can have an actual conversation with the voices, while still being awake and not getting my brain 'shut off' and put into a temporary trance while a badly-tuned audio voice blanks out everything in my mind for a few seconds. It feels more 'real,' like 'psychic' experiences would feel.
I remember reading about a spelling bee contest. There were only a few kids left. When the one kid went up and it was his turn, he started to fumble on a word he couldn't spell. Suddenly, he collapsed to the floor. Then he stood up, and miraculously, he was suddenly able to spell the word he couldn't spell! It came to him in a vision when he fell to the floor. Can you say 'blatant, broad-daylight, cheating?' Somebody was betting money on him, I'm sure, and to win their money, they would use any means necessary to tell him how to spell his word. But the particular type of attack that they used is a blunt, clumsy, low-tech attack that causes you to black out and go into a trance, instead of being able to continue standing up and staying awake. Most of the time when I hear voices, I'm able to stay awake and look like everything is normal. But the spelling bee kid - and yes, I think he won the competition - was attacked by someone who didn't have the means to do a more subtle attack.
(The same kind of thing is able to help you win or lose a sports bet. You can cause someone to trip and fall, do something clumsy, that kind of thing. There are many ways electronic attacks can influence a sporting event. It would be like Hermione using a Confundus charm - except this is muggle magic. And they like to see themselves as doing magic, and they like to make references to Harry Potter, but in reality, it's a much more sad situation than that.)
Well, I am going to go back to the beginning and pick up a topic I left off. This is the topic I didn't feel like I was an expert on. I can give it a sympathetic view now.
When I first started noticing the computer harassment, it was the year 2000, and I had started visiting chatrooms and talking to Nerdman. Nerdman did a few things to me that I didn't understand, and wasn't expecting, back then. For instance, he talked about sex in a symbolic way, and I took him literally and didn't notice the sexual symbolism. It was his way of being secretive and superior to me - he ALWAYS used a secretive, intellectually superior way of talking, using big words and obscure references to literature, to say things without saying them, and I found it annoying, because sometimes I would figure out that it was sexual symbolism, or at least, later on I figured it out. He was talking about a 'goat', and the 'goat' fell into a 'hole', where it 'died.' And actually, I find this very annoying and irritating when I write about it - I can't even laugh about it now, years later. That's how annoying it was to me. I HATE when people are being secretly symbolic and using it as a way to be superior over me when I'm taking them literally, when I am a trusting innocent person and someone else is secretly insulting me, thinking he's superior because I'm too stupid to understand what he's talking about. The 'goat' was a penis, the 'hole' was a vagina, and 'death' meant that the penis had an orgasm and wasn't erect anymore and became soft again. To me, goats, holes, and death were all literal. So I was chatting to him in the chatroom and I was upset because he was talking about the cute little goat dying again and I just thought he was being weird and I couldn't explain it. Ha ha, very funny.
Well, one day, I forget how it started. Something happened that caused a disruption. I forget what it was. I said he was having trouble writing, or something, and there must be an earthquake going on and the building was going to collapse, or something like that. I was being literal and I was pretending. But he responded to this by starting up his sexual symbolism again. So he went along with the pretending and then he said that I, Nicole, was in the building and a piano fell on me and I died.
I wasn't expecting that he would kill me in a chatroom fantasy. I didn't know about electronic mind control back then, so I can't say whether my feelings and emotions were real or fake. But I felt an intense, humiliated, violated, traumatized feeling, and an extreme distrust and fear. I started to think that he actually might be a serial killer, someone who enjoyed killing people, for fun, for sexual entertainment. I felt extremely disrespected. To even TALK about killing someone, to talk directly to the person about it, to say things like 'I'm going to kill you,' is very disrespectful.
That was when I started reading the John Douglas books. I also read fiction books that Nerdman himself talked about. One of his favorite authors was Richard Powers. In the Richard Powers books, there were several scenes where a woman died, and the narrator of the story was fascinated with the woman's death. Nerdman also talked about other movies and stories that involved the death of a woman. There was one, and I hope I can remember the name of it - 'In Dreams.' It's a movie about a teacher who starts having a psychic connection to a serial killer. She uses the psychic connection to go find him, and I'm giving a spoiler here, but, in the end, she dies, although he does too, and it's supposed to be a happy ending because the serial killer is defeated. But in reality, the death of the woman is the main focus of the movie.
Back then, when this was going on, when I felt extremely disrespected and traumatized because of Nerdman talking about my death, and giving me references to fiction books and movies about the death of women, I started to *HATE* anybody who connected death and sex.
There are actually lots of movies and stories that show the death of a woman, and that death is the highlight of the movie, the most important thing in the movie, the thing we were all eagerly waiting for. Some people watch the movie, and see it as a tragedy, and say, 'Ugh, I didn't like that movie, that was a terrible ending, I wish she had survived.' That's *MY* response when I see those movies. And some people just like tragedies, and they enjoy being sad and miserable, and even if it's isn't a sexual fantasy, they just want to see a movie with a sad ending because they like sad endings. They watch Romeo and Juliet and they think it's 'cathartic', and they think it's romantic that Romeo and Juliet are 'together in eternity.' (I'm thinking of 'Don't Fear The Reaper,' a Blue Oyster Cult song, and I actually like that song. There was a remake of it recently.) Other people, however, think it's a happy ending BECAUSE the woman died. To them, it's the sexual fantasy that nobody else can see, and they're secretly enjoying it while everyone else is responding in a different way.
Well, over time, I gradually stopped worrying as much about this. I found out that I was being electronically attacked, and mind control was real. I used to fear that I was being stalked by a serial killer, but when I found out that mind control was real, I decided that if they wanted to kill me, they could do it anytime they wanted to, and I had no control over it. So why worry about it. There's nothing I can do. They can push a button, and cause me to have a car accident. They can make me sleepwalk, and go kill myself in the middle of the night, without knowing I did it. Maybe they can push a button that will directly shut off my brain or suffocate me or make my heart stop beating. I don't know what they can do, but I know enough to realize that if they wanted to kill me, they would and they could, at any random moment. That actually made me LESS worried, strangely enough. It was a sort of grim resignation. It was the realization that there are people attacking me and it's up to them whether I live or die, because I don't know who they are and I can't retaliate, I can't fight back. I can only focus on those things that I have control over, instead of worrying about things that I can't control.
It can give you a false sense of security. You might think you're safe from everything, because the mind controllers are watching you constantly. But that's not true either. You still have to take care of yourself. They don't control every molecule that moves in the universe. They don't control every random accident that happens. And there's more than one group of people controlling things. There isn't a monopoly, one single ruler of the world controlling everything. Instead, there are different groups and individuals fighting for their territory, fighting to control particular people, fighting to 'own' particular 'slaves' who are high value to them. One person's slave might attack another person's slave. It isn't all controlled by the same person. There's more than one 'ruler of the world.' There are many, and they're not all friends with each other.
Over the years I mellowed out a little bit and I don't worry so much anymore if I see people connecting death and sex. It's actually pretty common. There are different ways people do it. There are subcultures and fiction stories and movies that do this in different ways. Vampire culture, vampire movies and stories, that's a way of talking about erotic death. I don't freak out about it as much as I used to.
They brought Curtis into my life, and I say that 'they brought' him, because, by coincidence, he suddenly started working with me right after Martin left, and the voices talked to me about him immediately, and he was exactly the kind of guy that I would like, and I liked him as soon as I met him. He has this status: 'Curtis can do no wrong.' No matter what he does, I always like him again, and I can't help it.
I've seen his MySpace page, briefly, although I can't go there now, and he has erotic vampire-goth images on there. He also has similar things in his facebook page. I have to add something that I forgot to mention. Although it sort of seems like erotic death, it is also an expression of his own unbearable pain and suffering. I had to go look at the images again, on facebook, and some of it is about suicide. It fits with the 'screamo' genre of music, some of which I listened to, that expresses the unbearable pain by screaming. This is something that I sympathize with. However, in this blog I was focused on the 'erotic death' interpretation more than I was focused on the 'unbearable suffering' interpretation, but I had to mention it.
Some of it came from his mother, and it's an accepted thing in their family. His mother seems to be a sexual instinctual type too, and she has lots of tattoos, and some piercings, and she accidentally attracts men without wanting to. It happened when she worked at Nittany Mall McDonald's with me, years ago, for a short time before she quit. That's how I met her. She used to talk in a flirtatious way with the boss, but she might not have realized how flirtatious she was being, and how much she encouraged him. It wasn't long before the boss did a real-life, blatant, sexual harassment incident with her. (He did similar things to a couple of other women who worked there, too, but fortunately, he didn't do anything to me - I wasn't his type, and he wasn't mine, and I couldn't stand him, and I found him sexually repulsive.) She was doing overnight cleaning, and he asked her to meet him in the bathroom for something, in a few minutes. She assumed that he wanted to show her some task or cleaning project she was going to do. It was unexpected. She walked into the bathroom and found him standing there with his shirt off, and he asked her to massage his back. She told me this story, and she was ashamed and disgusted and afraid. I don't remember if she actually DID massage his back, or if she walked out, or what. I don't know. After that, she was talking to me about it, and other people, and she didn't know what to do, and she wanted to tell some authority about it. And I don't remember who she told, but she just quit and left after a while. It happened to some other people too, and that manager still works at McD, but he went to a different store.
I didn't know she was Curtis's mother. Once, I saw her walking around Weis, before I knew Curtis, before he worked at Weis. I saw that she was walking with a young guy in his teens, and for some reason, I thought he was her boyfriend. I'm not joking. I really, actually believed that she had a very young boyfriend. I didn't know he was her son. When I saw them together it seemed like they were dating, not family. One reason that I didn't understand was because he seemed too old to be her son. She's in her thirties, and he's in his late teens, so she had him when she was in her young teens. Something about them, their behavior, their intimacy, gave off boyfriend-girlfriend vibes when I saw them, and I felt a combination of disapproval, envy, and amazement. (Yesterday when I was writing about the 'weird dream' idea, where something really strange is happening but everyone thinks it's normal, the voices were mentioning another 'weird dream' idea, which was: 'You mean, I can fuck my mother FOR REAL, like I always wanted to?' That was partly referring to his mother, but it was also referring to me as an older woman only one year younger than his mother.)
So after he and I knew each other - I didn't recognize him as 'the guy I once saw walking around with Sabrina' - he informed me that I knew his mother, Sabrina, and she worked with me at McD years ago.
When he told me this, I was shocked and stunned, and then I became distrusting and afraid. I had a very intense reaction of fear and distrust. I remembered Sabrina getting sexually harassed, after openly flirting with the manager, and encouraging him. I had already gotten a crush on Curtis, who did the same thing, openly flirting with me and encouraging me. So I got scared that he was going to turn around and say that I was sexually harassing him. I felt very afraid and distrusting after that. I reacted very strongly when he told me who his mother was. He seemed to enjoy my reaction - he smiled, I think, if I recall correctly, because he could see that I was shocked and surprised - but he didn't understand all the things I was thinking and all the things I was afraid of. I can't remember why I thought he enjoyed the reaction. To him it might have seemed like I was afraid of her, afraid of Sabrina somehow. I think that's partly true, I probably am afraid of her somehow, or threatened by her, and jealous of her. I can't explain why but he seemed to enjoy my reaction.
The vampire-goth culture seems to come from her, and I don't know how much of it comes from within Curtis himself. Some of it might be because that's an accepted thing in their family. Tattoos are an accepted thing in their family, and she has lots of tattoos. I don't like tattoos, and 'the voices' were threatening me, telling me that they were going to force him to get the urge to get more tattoos. That scares me, because I see it as permanent destruction of beauty - I don't see it as making him more beautiful or more attractive. He has freckles all over his arms. He has tattoos on the underside of his arms, but if he got new ones on top of his arms, it would destroy the freckles so that you couldn't see them anymore. And not just his arms, but all of his skin, I see it as being destroyed instead of enhanced by tattoos.
Some of the vampire-goth culture, in his pictures, in the images he collected off the internet, has erotic death themes. Or not necessarily erotic, but creepy death fascination, a focus on death, an interest in death and corpses. I saw this early on, in his jewelry - I loved his jewelry right away, and I was always asking him about whatever he was wearing. He has little metal skulls attached to his shoelaces and I remember commenting about those a long time ago when I was getting to know him. Somehow, 'Curtis can do no wrong.' When HE has an eroticized obsession with death and goth and skulls and vampires and blood, somehow it's sexy when it never was before. He once told me that he wanted to buy a hearse, and put a coffin in the back of it (and although he didn't explain this, I understood that you're supposed to have sex with someone in the coffin in the back of the car). He put dark tints on the back windows so you can't see inside. He's decorated parts of his car with neon lights, and he's put in his own stereo with a sub-bass, and he showed me these things. I never cared about those things before, I never liked neon lights added to cars, I never cared about what kind of stereo someone has, I never cared about tinted windows, but suddenly, when HE did it, I liked all of those things, they were great, they were sexy.
I had the same reaction to his image collection. I liked all of it, even though years ago I *hated* anybody who connected death/murder with sex in any way at all. He has one image of a man and woman kissing while one of them holds a gun, and the other holds a knife, if I recall, each one about to kill the other. It actually reminds me of an image I drew, years ago, when I was painting with the Caran Dache aquarelle crayons. I drew two people kissing and I drew their tongues twisting together, and it was a beautiful, sexy, erotic picture. I want to scan, or photograph, my paintings and put them on the internet someday, but right now, they're in a box in the storage unit. I used to draw and paint a lot and I sometimes drew erotic pictures, sometimes pictures of people kissing and touching each other. The images he collected reminded me of my own drawings, except there was the goth-like, vampire-like focus on blood, death, murder, suicide, and similar themes. But I felt the sense of them, the passion they express, and I understood it.
I just remembered two things that happened. Don't let me forget - one was the butt tattoo, the other was the handcuffs. I have to tell both stories. There was a girl who worked with us for a short time, and her name was also Becka - there were two people named Becka. She saw me talking to Curtis, and I hadn't mentioned anything to her at all about having a crush on him, about how much I liked him. I hadn't said anything. But she saw the way we talked to each other, and she said, 'Nicole's going to get your name tattooed on her butt.' When she said that I started laughing uncontrollably. It was so perceptive and accurate even though I hadn't told her anything. I was embarrassed, but I had to admit she was right, it was true. I didn't say anything to her, I didn't tell her how I felt about him, but she could tell by watching me.
The other incident: Christina was talking to me, and I forget why she said this. Something about committing a crime, or getting in trouble for doing something, or having to call the police. We were joking. She used to live next door to Curtis before they moved, and so they knew each other for years, and she's friends with his mother, so she's been to their house and she knew about his collection of knives, swords and other things. So she blurts out something like, 'We can go get Curtis's handcuffs,' or 'We can put Curtis's handcuffs on you,' something like that. My reaction was to get very embarrassed and I started laughing. The next thing she did was call him over to talk to us, and she told him that I wanted him to put me in his handcuffs, and I said, 'SHE'S the one who said that. *I* didn't say that!' I was laughing. 'Mortified' would be the word to describe it. This was another one of those rare exceptions. I never thought about handcuffs before and I wouldn't have wanted to be handcuffed, but with him, the idea of it was sexy.
I said that 'button-pushers' refers to the people who are operating the mind control equipment. But I sometimes say it in a metaphorical way too. He pushes all the right buttons in the right order - whatever he does it somehow works out and I like it.
I don't remember if I was supposed to go back to an unfinished topic or not, so I have to reread this...
My understanding of the death-sex connection is that ... well, this is hard to explain. Sometimes, something reminds us of something else. Or it's an image, or feeling, which is exaggerated or made more extreme. There was a word for this. I was reading about it recently. I was reading about instincts and about how animals respond to certain triggers or images. If you exaggerate the trigger image, they will respond more strongly to the fake thing than they do to the real thing. An example is a brightly colored fish. The male fish is brightly colored, and any males who see him know that he is the enemy, and they will attack. But if you make a fake fish, and the fake one is even more brightly colored than the real one, they'll attack the fake fish and ignore the real one. If you exaggerate or intensify the trigger image, they'll be more interested in the fake thing than the real thing. You can also put fake pheromones on something, and animals and insects will be more attracted to that than they are to the real animals putting out their pheromones, because the fake ones are so much stronger.
Some sexual fetishes, in humans, seem to be like that. It exaggerates something sexy, making it more extreme, so that you like the exaggerated fake image more than the real one. It's not just images, it's also sensations and ideas. If you make them more extreme or more exaggerated then they trigger sexual feelings more than the real world does. I respond very strongly to the image of pregnant women's bellies. The bigger they are, the more erotic it is. When I see it, I'm not thinking in a lesbian way that I want to have sex with the woman. I'm thinking of my own desire to have sex and get pregnant. I feel a sort of empathic sensation of my own belly being pregnant, and a feeling of envy, when I see someone else's.
It's similar to the gluttony fetish, but not exactly the same. The gluttony fetish exaggerates or makes extreme the sensation you feel in your stomach from eating. It happened to me the other day. I had just eaten and I took a walk, and one of the places I went to was a park with swings. I always like to swing on the swings. But swinging with a full stomach gave me an intense tickling sensation in my stomach, and it was somehow extremely pleasant, and extremely unpleasant at the same time, so I stopped swinging. That tickly feeling is involved in the gluttony fantasy and with bingeing and purging behavior. I'm phobic about vomiting, and I will do *ANYTHING* to avoid vomiting, but at the same time, I know how it feels to get a sort of 'reward' sensation after vomiting, maybe an opiate release? I don't know. A feeling of great relief and pleasure after the vomiting is over, a flood of numbness and relaxation - still, for me, it's not worth it, and the fear of vomiting is much worse than any 'reward' for vomiting. But some people don't mind it and they don't mind bingeing and purging. The gluttony fetish exaggerates and makes extreme that tickly sensation in your stomach from eating, and it exaggerates the images, and the empathy you feel with those images. It's not just the stomach, it's the entire abdomen that's able to feel that way, and it can sometimes happen with hormones or drugs too, anything that's an aphrodisiac. The aphrodisiac can make your abdomen feel that way even if you haven't eaten much.
So I think that the death-and-sex connection is something similar to that. After an orgasm your entire body relaxes and becomes limp. It was an extreme experience similar to dying, similar to being killed. That is how I understand it.
Other people interpret it differently - to them, if you kill someone, it is about domination and power, about ownership, about being superior to the person you killed. That was how I felt whenever Nerdman pretended to kill me in the chatroom, when I wasn't expecting it - I felt that it was a terrible, disrespectful act of domination, something meant to humiliate me and make me feel small and helpless, and I did *NOT* enjoy it. It wasn't erotic at that time, in that way.
It's hard to describe where the boundary lines are, where the gray areas end, because the vampire-goth fantasies also have some domination and control themes, but it's much milder and it doesn't offend me. This is partly because vampires are doing something that I actually enjoy: biting people on the neck. That by itself is erotic, and it's enjoyable to the person being bitten. Nerdman, on the other hand, was just interested in the death itself and it didn't even have any connection, by my understanding, to doing something that would have been enjoyable anyway. With him, it was clearly meant to make the other person feel inferior, stupid, worthless, small, helpless. I can't really explain. Some of it might even be because the vampire images are usually people who I see as sexually attractive. Being dominated by someone sexually attractive is different from being dominated by someone sexually repulsive.
I just remembered a story I read somewhere which was supposedly true. There was a guy exploring in Africa, and he was attacked by a lion. The lion grabbed him in his mouth and shook him. He described having a sensation of being pleasantly relaxed and submissive and helpless, like it wasn't real, and like he wouldn't mind dying. He wasn't afraid, while it was going on. I forget how he survived - maybe someone else was with them, and the other person killed the lion or something. I can't remember where I read this story. But I think that somehow, people know about that feeling, and it's involved in domination/submission fantasies and vampire fantasies.
I can't even really talk about these things without worrying that they will be taken the wrong way. I don't enjoy being humiliated. But for the past couple days, the voices have been talking to me about someone enjoying humiliation. It's because I laughed at Curtis when he walked up to me and was talking to me and calling me a nickname - there's a word for this that I can't remember. What are those nicknames called? There's a word for affectionate nicknames that lovers use for each other. Pet names? Something like that. I like the ones he uses - they're actually meaningful. It's not something like 'hello, my little love muffin,' or something like that. 'Love muffin' just doesn't sound sexy to me. I really WOULD laugh if someone called me that. When he calls me names, I laugh, but not because it's a ridiculous name like 'love muffin.' I laugh instead because the name is too flattering, too much of a compliment, something too good and too nice to be true.
Like imagine that there is a very fat woman, and I don't mean to insult fat people, and actually I'm interested in what causes obesity, and I don't think it's the fat person's fault at all - so I don't like to insult fat people, ever, although I called Carrie fat in my blog, after she advised me in an email that I should get rid of my mustache, and she labeled Curtis 'the dumbass'. But imagine there is a fat woman, and she's a terrible dancer, but she pretends to get up and dance around, and she's not really serious about it. But someone watching her says to her, 'You are a graceful ballerina,' and he says it in a dead serious voice, and he means it, and she bursts out laughing/crying because she knows she isn't really graceful, isn't really a good dancer, isn't really a ballerina, she's just an ugly, fat woman pretending to dance as a joke. And again, please do not take this as an insult to any fat people. I am just trying to think of the best example that I can, and this is always the example that I think of. Maybe it's something 'they' put into my mind. But that's how I feel when he calls me the flattering nicknames that exaggerate how beautiful and wonderful and special I am, when I'm not really as beautiful, wonderful, and special as the things he says I am.
But I feel like I really AM special and wonderful, though, because I choose life, and I am surviving something terrible. I feel that I am a unique, wonderful person that nobody understands, someone undervalued by the world. So when he says that I'm special and wonderful and unique and rare, I feel like it's actually the truth, like he can see inside me to where I value my own life, where I value myself, where I choose to live. But he couldn't possibly understand that. He couldn't possibly see that. He can't see inside my soul. No one can see my soul, because I am the victim of a crime, I am a mind slave, I am a zombie, with my soul suppressed by the constant attack following me 24 hours a day. So I laugh because it's impossible, and I cry because I really, really need it to be true. I want someone to see me and understand me and value me the same way that I value myself. When he says these things, it seems like he does understand, but I think he can't really.
I want to find another boyfriend, someone easier to reach, someone who will actually answer me, meet me, talk to me in person, when Curtis won't or can't. That's what I meant when I said that sooner or later I have to give up and go after 'easy pickings' instead, because it's impossible to actually be with Curtis in the real world, when I can't get him to respond to me except at work. I need someone to get to know the real me, to know the hell that I live in every day, not just from hearing voices but mostly from the drug residues and chemical sensitivity and chronic fatigue - to see through all of those problems and see that there is still a living soul underneath it - to see into my cage, to see that I am still alive even though I look like a zombie on the outside and I cannot speak my own words or make my own choices while being controlled.
I think that's enough for now.
Warning, this one's really long. I couldn't stop writing. Today, I actually put the tag 'true romance' on my blog, because I looked at a true romance magazine yesterday, and I saw that this really is the genre that I am writing.
The 'easy pickings' strategy.
They woke me up this morning with the 'psychopath' feeling. There is this 'feeling,' a very specific feeling, a feeling of profound and extreme distrust, which represents the idea of a psychopath. I had to fight against the 'psychopath' belief system.
The 'psychopath' idea started a long time ago. I remember when I was a teenager, I was probably being interrogated by some attacker, but back then, I thought that it was a 'psychic' experience that I was having when I talked to voices in my head. I was being interrogated by someone who wondered if there was such a thing as absolute evil, and they were distrusting, and they asked me if *I* was evil. A soulless robot, unable to feel guilty about anything. Everything it does is insincere. Everything it does is manipulative, done to accomplish a purpose. I was aware of this idea all the way back when I was a teenager. I remembered it again in 2000 or so when I read John Douglas's books about serial killers. (It can also be called a sociopath. There are some slight differences between them.)
Maybe they woke me up with that feeling today because yesterday I wrote about the 'killing your best friend' dream. I'm not sure if I'm the best person to explain this, since it's not really 'my thing.'
If I wander too far off topic, I won't be able to explain the 'easy pickings' idea. I'll just say that really quickly and then go on to the other subject. The 'easy pickings' idea is this: Curtis is impossible to reach, by phone, email, text message, or even handwritten note. He responds to them, by changing his behavior, by being more trusting and affectionate towards me after reading a note, but he doesn't respond to direct questions or do things I ask him to do.
I see him as an 'at-risk youth.' He doesn't mind the idea of going into the military. He doesn't wear a seat belt. He gets drunk and goes driving his car. He lost his license but I know he is still driving, so sooner or later, he might possibly have another conflict with the law again.
Some of this might possibly fit the description of 'poor judgment,' in the description of what happens to a fetal alcohol syndrome baby. It changes the brain in ways that cause a person to have learning disabilities and poor judgment. His condition is mild, because they say that the more facial deformities you have, the more severe it is, and his face is relatively normal, except that he might have a cleft lip scar - there is a scar above his lip and I don't know if it was caused by an accident or cleft lip surgery. He might have a slightly reduced philtrum, the groove that runs from the nose to the lips, but if I recall, it looks like he still does have one. I'm not sure. I can't usually get a close enough look. Okay, I looked at a photo, and he does have one, but it isn't a very deep one. It varies from person to person anyway.
The TV show that I watched at Peter's house a few weeks ago showed 'at-risk youth' going into the military, and some of them came home and committed crimes and ended up in jail.
I don't want anything to happen to him, and it's clear that he is an 'at-risk youth.' In that respect, he is a victim, someone born with a problem or tendency that isn't his fault, born into a world that wasn't able to fix the problem. At the same time, there is only so much that I can do. I'm too poor to bail him out of jail or buy him new cars. I can only provide moral support. I can be someone he runs to whenever his girlfriends break up with him. But I live too far away to easily give him rides in my car, and anyway, I don't want him getting any drug residues on his shoes, and I'm the weird lady with plastic all over her car seats, so it wouldn't look good to have me driving him up to his friends' houses or wherever he was trying to go. So I can't even do much for him. And if I can't contact him and get a reply by any means, email, phone, or anything, then I can't even talk to him and find out what kind of relationship he would be willing to have with me.
So when I say 'easy pickings' I mean that sooner or later I just can't waste any more effort trying to do something that can't be done. I can find easier people to 'hang out' with, people who I can actually reach by phone or email. Even if it's not his fault, even if he can't answer the phone because he's being attacked, even if the phone calls don't get through, and those things aren't his fault, still, I can find people who are easier to reach. I can't do much for him anyway. I can enjoy his company, and he can enjoy mine. Other than that, I can't do much.
'They' have this idea that he represents 'the enemy,' in a way - that the button-pushers, as I call them, the people who are actually operating the electronic harassment equipment, the computers and devices and weapons being used to attack me, are in a lot of ways just like him. That sounds like 'the military' to me. The 'at-risk youth' go into the military, and they do what they're told, and they can't build a better life for themselves because they have reading and writing and math disabilities, and poor judgment, and poor self-control, and the military offers them a better paying job. And apparently the 'button pushers' are in a similar situation. They get paid to do what they do. So 'they' want me to see him as a lovable version of 'the enemy.' Look at what your enemies would be if they were cute and lovable and someone you felt attracted to and devoted to, someone you couldn't help loving no matter what they did to you.
I have to quickly mention the reason why I made the name 'button-pushers.' When the attacks first began, I assumed that the voice I heard in my head was actually being sent to me by the person who was saying whatever I heard. Like, if you heard a famous celebrity speaking to you (and no, I didn't usually hear the voices of celebrities, but this is just an example), you would believe that that person, theirself, was operating the equipment and talking to you. (I'm having a grammar problem. I don't like how English doesn't have a genderless pronoun for 'they' and 'them' with 'self.' You can say 'themselves' if it's plural, but you can't say it if it's singular. I want to say 'he or she himself or herself.' You know what I mean.)
To make that more clear, let's imagine that I said something to somebody else, like 'Hi, how are you?' and someone else recorded me saying that. Then, somebody plays back the recording, and beams it into somebody's head, so they mistakenly believe that I'm the one pushing the buttons on the device that's beaming it into their head, and I'm right that very moment saying 'Hi, how are you?' I would get blamed for talking to them, because it was MY voice they heard in their head. It's a way to trick someone into attacking innocent people. 'I kept hearing YOUR voice in my head! You must be an attacker!' But actually that's not true. It was recorded earlier, and even though it's my voice, I might have nothing to do with it at all. I'm not the one who tape recorded it and then beamed it into someone's head. The voice you hear might not actually be sent to you from the person who spoke the words.
After my cat Alexander died, it was a week or two later, and somebody beamed a recording of Alexander's meow into my head. His voice was recognizable. You can recognize a cat's individual voice the same way you recognize a person's. It was perfectly clear. Obviously, since I had seen Alexander's dead body and buried it myself, I knew Alex wasn't alive, and he wasn't meowing to me, and he certainly wasn't pushing buttons on an electronic harassment weapon. That's a clear demonstration showing that the voice you hear might not be the same person operating the equipment.
So I had lots of times when little scripted scenarios were going on in my head, in the beginning, especially back when I was using St. John's Wort, and I would fight with the voices and tell them I wanted to kill them and I would fantasize about killing them. They would respond by doing even more things to torture me and make me enraged. That is why I call them the murderers, because they REALLY DO try to enrage the victims and make them go postal and go out and shoot people. They REALLY DO try to make you do that. It has happened to me, except usually when they do it to me, they claim they're trying to protect me and prevent me from doing anything. I think that I have had an easier time than many other electronic harassment victims who describe much more horrible things happening to them.
The scripted fantasy scenarios would often involve a 'nice' person who was trying to help me, and I would respond by getting enraged at that person and threatening them. After a while, I realized that the 'nice' person probably wasn't the one actually pushing buttons on a device to put their voice in my head. In fact, the 'nice' person might, for all I know, be someone far away who thinks he's having a 'psychic experience.' He might fantasize that he's astral-projecting into the mind of someone who 'needs help,' when actually, a 'button-pusher,' the person operating a piece of equipment, is recording everything he says, beaming it into my head, and beaming my replies back to him. He and I are talking to each other through a system controlled by the murderers, but neither of us are actually operating the system. We both might interpret it as a 'psychic' experience.
That's the reason why I made up the phrase 'button-pushers' to refer to the people who are actually operating a piece of equipment, as opposed to the people who are speaking, the voices I hear, the people who interact with me - they might innocently think they're just having a 'psychic' experience with me.
Every time I write about something like this, I get attacks from people who try to imitate whatever I was describing. But those imitation attacks are usually the cheap, low-tech attacks, the kind of equipment that you can build in your own home. The attacks that I'm describing are much quieter and more subtle. The low-tech attacks usually silence my entire brain, put me into a trance for a second or two, and override everything I was thinking and doing, for a second, and if it goes on too long, I forget everything that they said to me while I was in the trance. I can only remember the last little bit of what they said. And it often has poor audio quality, like a badly tuned radio with static. Those are the low-tech attacks.
The high-tech attacks are much quieter, and they don't put me into a trance quite as badly. I feel like I can still remain conscious and functioning while I talk back to them, instead of being completely silenced and disabled. So I can have an actual conversation with the voices, while still being awake and not getting my brain 'shut off' and put into a temporary trance while a badly-tuned audio voice blanks out everything in my mind for a few seconds. It feels more 'real,' like 'psychic' experiences would feel.
I remember reading about a spelling bee contest. There were only a few kids left. When the one kid went up and it was his turn, he started to fumble on a word he couldn't spell. Suddenly, he collapsed to the floor. Then he stood up, and miraculously, he was suddenly able to spell the word he couldn't spell! It came to him in a vision when he fell to the floor. Can you say 'blatant, broad-daylight, cheating?' Somebody was betting money on him, I'm sure, and to win their money, they would use any means necessary to tell him how to spell his word. But the particular type of attack that they used is a blunt, clumsy, low-tech attack that causes you to black out and go into a trance, instead of being able to continue standing up and staying awake. Most of the time when I hear voices, I'm able to stay awake and look like everything is normal. But the spelling bee kid - and yes, I think he won the competition - was attacked by someone who didn't have the means to do a more subtle attack.
(The same kind of thing is able to help you win or lose a sports bet. You can cause someone to trip and fall, do something clumsy, that kind of thing. There are many ways electronic attacks can influence a sporting event. It would be like Hermione using a Confundus charm - except this is muggle magic. And they like to see themselves as doing magic, and they like to make references to Harry Potter, but in reality, it's a much more sad situation than that.)
Well, I am going to go back to the beginning and pick up a topic I left off. This is the topic I didn't feel like I was an expert on. I can give it a sympathetic view now.
When I first started noticing the computer harassment, it was the year 2000, and I had started visiting chatrooms and talking to Nerdman. Nerdman did a few things to me that I didn't understand, and wasn't expecting, back then. For instance, he talked about sex in a symbolic way, and I took him literally and didn't notice the sexual symbolism. It was his way of being secretive and superior to me - he ALWAYS used a secretive, intellectually superior way of talking, using big words and obscure references to literature, to say things without saying them, and I found it annoying, because sometimes I would figure out that it was sexual symbolism, or at least, later on I figured it out. He was talking about a 'goat', and the 'goat' fell into a 'hole', where it 'died.' And actually, I find this very annoying and irritating when I write about it - I can't even laugh about it now, years later. That's how annoying it was to me. I HATE when people are being secretly symbolic and using it as a way to be superior over me when I'm taking them literally, when I am a trusting innocent person and someone else is secretly insulting me, thinking he's superior because I'm too stupid to understand what he's talking about. The 'goat' was a penis, the 'hole' was a vagina, and 'death' meant that the penis had an orgasm and wasn't erect anymore and became soft again. To me, goats, holes, and death were all literal. So I was chatting to him in the chatroom and I was upset because he was talking about the cute little goat dying again and I just thought he was being weird and I couldn't explain it. Ha ha, very funny.
Well, one day, I forget how it started. Something happened that caused a disruption. I forget what it was. I said he was having trouble writing, or something, and there must be an earthquake going on and the building was going to collapse, or something like that. I was being literal and I was pretending. But he responded to this by starting up his sexual symbolism again. So he went along with the pretending and then he said that I, Nicole, was in the building and a piano fell on me and I died.
I wasn't expecting that he would kill me in a chatroom fantasy. I didn't know about electronic mind control back then, so I can't say whether my feelings and emotions were real or fake. But I felt an intense, humiliated, violated, traumatized feeling, and an extreme distrust and fear. I started to think that he actually might be a serial killer, someone who enjoyed killing people, for fun, for sexual entertainment. I felt extremely disrespected. To even TALK about killing someone, to talk directly to the person about it, to say things like 'I'm going to kill you,' is very disrespectful.
That was when I started reading the John Douglas books. I also read fiction books that Nerdman himself talked about. One of his favorite authors was Richard Powers. In the Richard Powers books, there were several scenes where a woman died, and the narrator of the story was fascinated with the woman's death. Nerdman also talked about other movies and stories that involved the death of a woman. There was one, and I hope I can remember the name of it - 'In Dreams.' It's a movie about a teacher who starts having a psychic connection to a serial killer. She uses the psychic connection to go find him, and I'm giving a spoiler here, but, in the end, she dies, although he does too, and it's supposed to be a happy ending because the serial killer is defeated. But in reality, the death of the woman is the main focus of the movie.
Back then, when this was going on, when I felt extremely disrespected and traumatized because of Nerdman talking about my death, and giving me references to fiction books and movies about the death of women, I started to *HATE* anybody who connected death and sex.
There are actually lots of movies and stories that show the death of a woman, and that death is the highlight of the movie, the most important thing in the movie, the thing we were all eagerly waiting for. Some people watch the movie, and see it as a tragedy, and say, 'Ugh, I didn't like that movie, that was a terrible ending, I wish she had survived.' That's *MY* response when I see those movies. And some people just like tragedies, and they enjoy being sad and miserable, and even if it's isn't a sexual fantasy, they just want to see a movie with a sad ending because they like sad endings. They watch Romeo and Juliet and they think it's 'cathartic', and they think it's romantic that Romeo and Juliet are 'together in eternity.' (I'm thinking of 'Don't Fear The Reaper,' a Blue Oyster Cult song, and I actually like that song. There was a remake of it recently.) Other people, however, think it's a happy ending BECAUSE the woman died. To them, it's the sexual fantasy that nobody else can see, and they're secretly enjoying it while everyone else is responding in a different way.
Well, over time, I gradually stopped worrying as much about this. I found out that I was being electronically attacked, and mind control was real. I used to fear that I was being stalked by a serial killer, but when I found out that mind control was real, I decided that if they wanted to kill me, they could do it anytime they wanted to, and I had no control over it. So why worry about it. There's nothing I can do. They can push a button, and cause me to have a car accident. They can make me sleepwalk, and go kill myself in the middle of the night, without knowing I did it. Maybe they can push a button that will directly shut off my brain or suffocate me or make my heart stop beating. I don't know what they can do, but I know enough to realize that if they wanted to kill me, they would and they could, at any random moment. That actually made me LESS worried, strangely enough. It was a sort of grim resignation. It was the realization that there are people attacking me and it's up to them whether I live or die, because I don't know who they are and I can't retaliate, I can't fight back. I can only focus on those things that I have control over, instead of worrying about things that I can't control.
It can give you a false sense of security. You might think you're safe from everything, because the mind controllers are watching you constantly. But that's not true either. You still have to take care of yourself. They don't control every molecule that moves in the universe. They don't control every random accident that happens. And there's more than one group of people controlling things. There isn't a monopoly, one single ruler of the world controlling everything. Instead, there are different groups and individuals fighting for their territory, fighting to control particular people, fighting to 'own' particular 'slaves' who are high value to them. One person's slave might attack another person's slave. It isn't all controlled by the same person. There's more than one 'ruler of the world.' There are many, and they're not all friends with each other.
Over the years I mellowed out a little bit and I don't worry so much anymore if I see people connecting death and sex. It's actually pretty common. There are different ways people do it. There are subcultures and fiction stories and movies that do this in different ways. Vampire culture, vampire movies and stories, that's a way of talking about erotic death. I don't freak out about it as much as I used to.
They brought Curtis into my life, and I say that 'they brought' him, because, by coincidence, he suddenly started working with me right after Martin left, and the voices talked to me about him immediately, and he was exactly the kind of guy that I would like, and I liked him as soon as I met him. He has this status: 'Curtis can do no wrong.' No matter what he does, I always like him again, and I can't help it.
I've seen his MySpace page, briefly, although I can't go there now, and he has erotic vampire-goth images on there. He also has similar things in his facebook page. I have to add something that I forgot to mention. Although it sort of seems like erotic death, it is also an expression of his own unbearable pain and suffering. I had to go look at the images again, on facebook, and some of it is about suicide. It fits with the 'screamo' genre of music, some of which I listened to, that expresses the unbearable pain by screaming. This is something that I sympathize with. However, in this blog I was focused on the 'erotic death' interpretation more than I was focused on the 'unbearable suffering' interpretation, but I had to mention it.
Some of it came from his mother, and it's an accepted thing in their family. His mother seems to be a sexual instinctual type too, and she has lots of tattoos, and some piercings, and she accidentally attracts men without wanting to. It happened when she worked at Nittany Mall McDonald's with me, years ago, for a short time before she quit. That's how I met her. She used to talk in a flirtatious way with the boss, but she might not have realized how flirtatious she was being, and how much she encouraged him. It wasn't long before the boss did a real-life, blatant, sexual harassment incident with her. (He did similar things to a couple of other women who worked there, too, but fortunately, he didn't do anything to me - I wasn't his type, and he wasn't mine, and I couldn't stand him, and I found him sexually repulsive.) She was doing overnight cleaning, and he asked her to meet him in the bathroom for something, in a few minutes. She assumed that he wanted to show her some task or cleaning project she was going to do. It was unexpected. She walked into the bathroom and found him standing there with his shirt off, and he asked her to massage his back. She told me this story, and she was ashamed and disgusted and afraid. I don't remember if she actually DID massage his back, or if she walked out, or what. I don't know. After that, she was talking to me about it, and other people, and she didn't know what to do, and she wanted to tell some authority about it. And I don't remember who she told, but she just quit and left after a while. It happened to some other people too, and that manager still works at McD, but he went to a different store.
I didn't know she was Curtis's mother. Once, I saw her walking around Weis, before I knew Curtis, before he worked at Weis. I saw that she was walking with a young guy in his teens, and for some reason, I thought he was her boyfriend. I'm not joking. I really, actually believed that she had a very young boyfriend. I didn't know he was her son. When I saw them together it seemed like they were dating, not family. One reason that I didn't understand was because he seemed too old to be her son. She's in her thirties, and he's in his late teens, so she had him when she was in her young teens. Something about them, their behavior, their intimacy, gave off boyfriend-girlfriend vibes when I saw them, and I felt a combination of disapproval, envy, and amazement. (Yesterday when I was writing about the 'weird dream' idea, where something really strange is happening but everyone thinks it's normal, the voices were mentioning another 'weird dream' idea, which was: 'You mean, I can fuck my mother FOR REAL, like I always wanted to?' That was partly referring to his mother, but it was also referring to me as an older woman only one year younger than his mother.)
So after he and I knew each other - I didn't recognize him as 'the guy I once saw walking around with Sabrina' - he informed me that I knew his mother, Sabrina, and she worked with me at McD years ago.
When he told me this, I was shocked and stunned, and then I became distrusting and afraid. I had a very intense reaction of fear and distrust. I remembered Sabrina getting sexually harassed, after openly flirting with the manager, and encouraging him. I had already gotten a crush on Curtis, who did the same thing, openly flirting with me and encouraging me. So I got scared that he was going to turn around and say that I was sexually harassing him. I felt very afraid and distrusting after that. I reacted very strongly when he told me who his mother was. He seemed to enjoy my reaction - he smiled, I think, if I recall correctly, because he could see that I was shocked and surprised - but he didn't understand all the things I was thinking and all the things I was afraid of. I can't remember why I thought he enjoyed the reaction. To him it might have seemed like I was afraid of her, afraid of Sabrina somehow. I think that's partly true, I probably am afraid of her somehow, or threatened by her, and jealous of her. I can't explain why but he seemed to enjoy my reaction.
The vampire-goth culture seems to come from her, and I don't know how much of it comes from within Curtis himself. Some of it might be because that's an accepted thing in their family. Tattoos are an accepted thing in their family, and she has lots of tattoos. I don't like tattoos, and 'the voices' were threatening me, telling me that they were going to force him to get the urge to get more tattoos. That scares me, because I see it as permanent destruction of beauty - I don't see it as making him more beautiful or more attractive. He has freckles all over his arms. He has tattoos on the underside of his arms, but if he got new ones on top of his arms, it would destroy the freckles so that you couldn't see them anymore. And not just his arms, but all of his skin, I see it as being destroyed instead of enhanced by tattoos.
Some of the vampire-goth culture, in his pictures, in the images he collected off the internet, has erotic death themes. Or not necessarily erotic, but creepy death fascination, a focus on death, an interest in death and corpses. I saw this early on, in his jewelry - I loved his jewelry right away, and I was always asking him about whatever he was wearing. He has little metal skulls attached to his shoelaces and I remember commenting about those a long time ago when I was getting to know him. Somehow, 'Curtis can do no wrong.' When HE has an eroticized obsession with death and goth and skulls and vampires and blood, somehow it's sexy when it never was before. He once told me that he wanted to buy a hearse, and put a coffin in the back of it (and although he didn't explain this, I understood that you're supposed to have sex with someone in the coffin in the back of the car). He put dark tints on the back windows so you can't see inside. He's decorated parts of his car with neon lights, and he's put in his own stereo with a sub-bass, and he showed me these things. I never cared about those things before, I never liked neon lights added to cars, I never cared about what kind of stereo someone has, I never cared about tinted windows, but suddenly, when HE did it, I liked all of those things, they were great, they were sexy.
I had the same reaction to his image collection. I liked all of it, even though years ago I *hated* anybody who connected death/murder with sex in any way at all. He has one image of a man and woman kissing while one of them holds a gun, and the other holds a knife, if I recall, each one about to kill the other. It actually reminds me of an image I drew, years ago, when I was painting with the Caran Dache aquarelle crayons. I drew two people kissing and I drew their tongues twisting together, and it was a beautiful, sexy, erotic picture. I want to scan, or photograph, my paintings and put them on the internet someday, but right now, they're in a box in the storage unit. I used to draw and paint a lot and I sometimes drew erotic pictures, sometimes pictures of people kissing and touching each other. The images he collected reminded me of my own drawings, except there was the goth-like, vampire-like focus on blood, death, murder, suicide, and similar themes. But I felt the sense of them, the passion they express, and I understood it.
I just remembered two things that happened. Don't let me forget - one was the butt tattoo, the other was the handcuffs. I have to tell both stories. There was a girl who worked with us for a short time, and her name was also Becka - there were two people named Becka. She saw me talking to Curtis, and I hadn't mentioned anything to her at all about having a crush on him, about how much I liked him. I hadn't said anything. But she saw the way we talked to each other, and she said, 'Nicole's going to get your name tattooed on her butt.' When she said that I started laughing uncontrollably. It was so perceptive and accurate even though I hadn't told her anything. I was embarrassed, but I had to admit she was right, it was true. I didn't say anything to her, I didn't tell her how I felt about him, but she could tell by watching me.
The other incident: Christina was talking to me, and I forget why she said this. Something about committing a crime, or getting in trouble for doing something, or having to call the police. We were joking. She used to live next door to Curtis before they moved, and so they knew each other for years, and she's friends with his mother, so she's been to their house and she knew about his collection of knives, swords and other things. So she blurts out something like, 'We can go get Curtis's handcuffs,' or 'We can put Curtis's handcuffs on you,' something like that. My reaction was to get very embarrassed and I started laughing. The next thing she did was call him over to talk to us, and she told him that I wanted him to put me in his handcuffs, and I said, 'SHE'S the one who said that. *I* didn't say that!' I was laughing. 'Mortified' would be the word to describe it. This was another one of those rare exceptions. I never thought about handcuffs before and I wouldn't have wanted to be handcuffed, but with him, the idea of it was sexy.
I said that 'button-pushers' refers to the people who are operating the mind control equipment. But I sometimes say it in a metaphorical way too. He pushes all the right buttons in the right order - whatever he does it somehow works out and I like it.
I don't remember if I was supposed to go back to an unfinished topic or not, so I have to reread this...
My understanding of the death-sex connection is that ... well, this is hard to explain. Sometimes, something reminds us of something else. Or it's an image, or feeling, which is exaggerated or made more extreme. There was a word for this. I was reading about it recently. I was reading about instincts and about how animals respond to certain triggers or images. If you exaggerate the trigger image, they will respond more strongly to the fake thing than they do to the real thing. An example is a brightly colored fish. The male fish is brightly colored, and any males who see him know that he is the enemy, and they will attack. But if you make a fake fish, and the fake one is even more brightly colored than the real one, they'll attack the fake fish and ignore the real one. If you exaggerate or intensify the trigger image, they'll be more interested in the fake thing than the real thing. You can also put fake pheromones on something, and animals and insects will be more attracted to that than they are to the real animals putting out their pheromones, because the fake ones are so much stronger.
Some sexual fetishes, in humans, seem to be like that. It exaggerates something sexy, making it more extreme, so that you like the exaggerated fake image more than the real one. It's not just images, it's also sensations and ideas. If you make them more extreme or more exaggerated then they trigger sexual feelings more than the real world does. I respond very strongly to the image of pregnant women's bellies. The bigger they are, the more erotic it is. When I see it, I'm not thinking in a lesbian way that I want to have sex with the woman. I'm thinking of my own desire to have sex and get pregnant. I feel a sort of empathic sensation of my own belly being pregnant, and a feeling of envy, when I see someone else's.
It's similar to the gluttony fetish, but not exactly the same. The gluttony fetish exaggerates or makes extreme the sensation you feel in your stomach from eating. It happened to me the other day. I had just eaten and I took a walk, and one of the places I went to was a park with swings. I always like to swing on the swings. But swinging with a full stomach gave me an intense tickling sensation in my stomach, and it was somehow extremely pleasant, and extremely unpleasant at the same time, so I stopped swinging. That tickly feeling is involved in the gluttony fantasy and with bingeing and purging behavior. I'm phobic about vomiting, and I will do *ANYTHING* to avoid vomiting, but at the same time, I know how it feels to get a sort of 'reward' sensation after vomiting, maybe an opiate release? I don't know. A feeling of great relief and pleasure after the vomiting is over, a flood of numbness and relaxation - still, for me, it's not worth it, and the fear of vomiting is much worse than any 'reward' for vomiting. But some people don't mind it and they don't mind bingeing and purging. The gluttony fetish exaggerates and makes extreme that tickly sensation in your stomach from eating, and it exaggerates the images, and the empathy you feel with those images. It's not just the stomach, it's the entire abdomen that's able to feel that way, and it can sometimes happen with hormones or drugs too, anything that's an aphrodisiac. The aphrodisiac can make your abdomen feel that way even if you haven't eaten much.
So I think that the death-and-sex connection is something similar to that. After an orgasm your entire body relaxes and becomes limp. It was an extreme experience similar to dying, similar to being killed. That is how I understand it.
Other people interpret it differently - to them, if you kill someone, it is about domination and power, about ownership, about being superior to the person you killed. That was how I felt whenever Nerdman pretended to kill me in the chatroom, when I wasn't expecting it - I felt that it was a terrible, disrespectful act of domination, something meant to humiliate me and make me feel small and helpless, and I did *NOT* enjoy it. It wasn't erotic at that time, in that way.
It's hard to describe where the boundary lines are, where the gray areas end, because the vampire-goth fantasies also have some domination and control themes, but it's much milder and it doesn't offend me. This is partly because vampires are doing something that I actually enjoy: biting people on the neck. That by itself is erotic, and it's enjoyable to the person being bitten. Nerdman, on the other hand, was just interested in the death itself and it didn't even have any connection, by my understanding, to doing something that would have been enjoyable anyway. With him, it was clearly meant to make the other person feel inferior, stupid, worthless, small, helpless. I can't really explain. Some of it might even be because the vampire images are usually people who I see as sexually attractive. Being dominated by someone sexually attractive is different from being dominated by someone sexually repulsive.
I just remembered a story I read somewhere which was supposedly true. There was a guy exploring in Africa, and he was attacked by a lion. The lion grabbed him in his mouth and shook him. He described having a sensation of being pleasantly relaxed and submissive and helpless, like it wasn't real, and like he wouldn't mind dying. He wasn't afraid, while it was going on. I forget how he survived - maybe someone else was with them, and the other person killed the lion or something. I can't remember where I read this story. But I think that somehow, people know about that feeling, and it's involved in domination/submission fantasies and vampire fantasies.
I can't even really talk about these things without worrying that they will be taken the wrong way. I don't enjoy being humiliated. But for the past couple days, the voices have been talking to me about someone enjoying humiliation. It's because I laughed at Curtis when he walked up to me and was talking to me and calling me a nickname - there's a word for this that I can't remember. What are those nicknames called? There's a word for affectionate nicknames that lovers use for each other. Pet names? Something like that. I like the ones he uses - they're actually meaningful. It's not something like 'hello, my little love muffin,' or something like that. 'Love muffin' just doesn't sound sexy to me. I really WOULD laugh if someone called me that. When he calls me names, I laugh, but not because it's a ridiculous name like 'love muffin.' I laugh instead because the name is too flattering, too much of a compliment, something too good and too nice to be true.
Like imagine that there is a very fat woman, and I don't mean to insult fat people, and actually I'm interested in what causes obesity, and I don't think it's the fat person's fault at all - so I don't like to insult fat people, ever, although I called Carrie fat in my blog, after she advised me in an email that I should get rid of my mustache, and she labeled Curtis 'the dumbass'. But imagine there is a fat woman, and she's a terrible dancer, but she pretends to get up and dance around, and she's not really serious about it. But someone watching her says to her, 'You are a graceful ballerina,' and he says it in a dead serious voice, and he means it, and she bursts out laughing/crying because she knows she isn't really graceful, isn't really a good dancer, isn't really a ballerina, she's just an ugly, fat woman pretending to dance as a joke. And again, please do not take this as an insult to any fat people. I am just trying to think of the best example that I can, and this is always the example that I think of. Maybe it's something 'they' put into my mind. But that's how I feel when he calls me the flattering nicknames that exaggerate how beautiful and wonderful and special I am, when I'm not really as beautiful, wonderful, and special as the things he says I am.
But I feel like I really AM special and wonderful, though, because I choose life, and I am surviving something terrible. I feel that I am a unique, wonderful person that nobody understands, someone undervalued by the world. So when he says that I'm special and wonderful and unique and rare, I feel like it's actually the truth, like he can see inside me to where I value my own life, where I value myself, where I choose to live. But he couldn't possibly understand that. He couldn't possibly see that. He can't see inside my soul. No one can see my soul, because I am the victim of a crime, I am a mind slave, I am a zombie, with my soul suppressed by the constant attack following me 24 hours a day. So I laugh because it's impossible, and I cry because I really, really need it to be true. I want someone to see me and understand me and value me the same way that I value myself. When he says these things, it seems like he does understand, but I think he can't really.
I want to find another boyfriend, someone easier to reach, someone who will actually answer me, meet me, talk to me in person, when Curtis won't or can't. That's what I meant when I said that sooner or later I have to give up and go after 'easy pickings' instead, because it's impossible to actually be with Curtis in the real world, when I can't get him to respond to me except at work. I need someone to get to know the real me, to know the hell that I live in every day, not just from hearing voices but mostly from the drug residues and chemical sensitivity and chronic fatigue - to see through all of those problems and see that there is still a living soul underneath it - to see into my cage, to see that I am still alive even though I look like a zombie on the outside and I cannot speak my own words or make my own choices while being controlled.
I think that's enough for now.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
hearing voices when i wake up
and yeah, when i say 'i was reminded about...' it DOES mean: i was asleep, and i woke up hearing voices, and they wanted me to post a blog. the voices were the usual whispers, i think. they were not the good audio quality. i don't remember enough because i was half asleep at the time. there is a lower level of whispers, which is still in the very high pitched range, but slightly less of a whisper, and more like a normal voice, and i think that's where it was.
anyway they were concerned that i would cause more confusion if i was saying there were only five emails, and didn't mention that i got two more emails from facebook. they were the less pleasant emails. i wasn't sitting there happily rereading the unpleasant ones, but instead, the early ones when it almost resembled a normal friendship between two people who are able to communicate with each other.
after i posted the blog, i heard them talking about the fact that i had posted a blog as though i had heard what they were talking about... if that makes any sense. i heard them talking about the blog i had just posted. they were wondering what it meant, if i meant that i was hearing voices. i was too tired to restart up the computer and write another blog. the idea was: we were just here discussing this, and then she posted a blog about it as though she could hear what we were saying.
then i went back to sleep again at some point, although i was having some trouble falling asleep, because i've been getting hit with stimulant drug contamination. but i did fall asleep, and when i woke up again later, i was being bombarded/brainwashed with positive messages about martin, that he was a good person and that he still needed my communication and my support. i don't mind as much being brainwashed with GOOD messages about somebody. i wouldn't want to be brainwashed with BAD messages about somebody.
after i read the old emails last night, i called his phone, with no hope that he would ever answer it, and found that the voice mail is still there and he still has that number. it's hard to talk, so i didn't say anything.
i have considered the idea of going through the emails i sent, and tearing them apart - writing in another text color which words seem okay to me and which words seem like artificial words inserted into the text. this is a big project. i've looked at at least one email like that before and it made me angry. it was this email that spoke to him like he was a child, or at least that's how it looked to me. that was shortly after it seemed like he had stopped answering. i was already anticipating exactly what was about to happen: months and months of not being answered, while i would probably be forced to do degrading, humiliating, self-destructive things to try to get his attention. i didn't know what they were going to make me do and i was terrified that it would result in another arrest. the house is contaminated with herbal drugs that hit me once in a while and affect my moods and behavior. when that happens i do impulsive things.
knowing about transdermal contamination is one of the most important things people need to know, but don't have any idea about. all herbs will do it, if you grow medicinal herbs as live plants, and if you merely even handle the SEEDS. all i did was handle some seeds, and grew a few small plants that sprouted and then seemed to die off. (i found out that i was accidentally using soil filled with a walnut tree poison called juglone, which kills other plants. i had gotten the soil from outside my house.) that was enough to contaminate a lot of my belongings, my laundry, and the carpets. this would be very important if you were growing herbs that were more dangerous or illegal.
pharmaceutical drugs do it too, but you don't necessarily need to worry about ALL pharmaceutical drugs. i wouldn't worry too much about a bottle of ibuprofen. it's when you get drugs that really affect your mental state, or cause severe side effects or withdrawal effects, that the problem occurs. people will mysteriously go crazy and nobody knows why, because they are being exposed to low levels of a drug going through their skin. if it's psychiatric drugs, then the results are pretty bad. other kinds of drugs will cause withdrawal effects, which can be dangerous. once you wash off the contaminant, you will then go into withdrawal.
and yes, it can cause weight gain. i look at the news articles where they say that 'weight gain is contagious' and they say that when people are friends with each other, they all overeat together, which explains why a whole group of friends are all overweight. i have a different interpretation - i usually assume overweight people are hanging out together because thin people don't understand what their life is like, and i think that's the main explanation. but the other theory could be that a thin person might gain weight by being exposed to whatever drug/poison is causing the other person to be overweight.
anyway they were concerned that i would cause more confusion if i was saying there were only five emails, and didn't mention that i got two more emails from facebook. they were the less pleasant emails. i wasn't sitting there happily rereading the unpleasant ones, but instead, the early ones when it almost resembled a normal friendship between two people who are able to communicate with each other.
after i posted the blog, i heard them talking about the fact that i had posted a blog as though i had heard what they were talking about... if that makes any sense. i heard them talking about the blog i had just posted. they were wondering what it meant, if i meant that i was hearing voices. i was too tired to restart up the computer and write another blog. the idea was: we were just here discussing this, and then she posted a blog about it as though she could hear what we were saying.
then i went back to sleep again at some point, although i was having some trouble falling asleep, because i've been getting hit with stimulant drug contamination. but i did fall asleep, and when i woke up again later, i was being bombarded/brainwashed with positive messages about martin, that he was a good person and that he still needed my communication and my support. i don't mind as much being brainwashed with GOOD messages about somebody. i wouldn't want to be brainwashed with BAD messages about somebody.
after i read the old emails last night, i called his phone, with no hope that he would ever answer it, and found that the voice mail is still there and he still has that number. it's hard to talk, so i didn't say anything.
i have considered the idea of going through the emails i sent, and tearing them apart - writing in another text color which words seem okay to me and which words seem like artificial words inserted into the text. this is a big project. i've looked at at least one email like that before and it made me angry. it was this email that spoke to him like he was a child, or at least that's how it looked to me. that was shortly after it seemed like he had stopped answering. i was already anticipating exactly what was about to happen: months and months of not being answered, while i would probably be forced to do degrading, humiliating, self-destructive things to try to get his attention. i didn't know what they were going to make me do and i was terrified that it would result in another arrest. the house is contaminated with herbal drugs that hit me once in a while and affect my moods and behavior. when that happens i do impulsive things.
knowing about transdermal contamination is one of the most important things people need to know, but don't have any idea about. all herbs will do it, if you grow medicinal herbs as live plants, and if you merely even handle the SEEDS. all i did was handle some seeds, and grew a few small plants that sprouted and then seemed to die off. (i found out that i was accidentally using soil filled with a walnut tree poison called juglone, which kills other plants. i had gotten the soil from outside my house.) that was enough to contaminate a lot of my belongings, my laundry, and the carpets. this would be very important if you were growing herbs that were more dangerous or illegal.
pharmaceutical drugs do it too, but you don't necessarily need to worry about ALL pharmaceutical drugs. i wouldn't worry too much about a bottle of ibuprofen. it's when you get drugs that really affect your mental state, or cause severe side effects or withdrawal effects, that the problem occurs. people will mysteriously go crazy and nobody knows why, because they are being exposed to low levels of a drug going through their skin. if it's psychiatric drugs, then the results are pretty bad. other kinds of drugs will cause withdrawal effects, which can be dangerous. once you wash off the contaminant, you will then go into withdrawal.
and yes, it can cause weight gain. i look at the news articles where they say that 'weight gain is contagious' and they say that when people are friends with each other, they all overeat together, which explains why a whole group of friends are all overweight. i have a different interpretation - i usually assume overweight people are hanging out together because thin people don't understand what their life is like, and i think that's the main explanation. but the other theory could be that a thin person might gain weight by being exposed to whatever drug/poison is causing the other person to be overweight.
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