Category: Uncategorized

Upon my usual approach – mind you, I would have been on time, but the train held me up – I was stopped – this is how it works for me, an unseen, a feeling, an instinct, a pull, gravity, all of these it is not one specific every time – by a man at a table.

Let me paint this, so you can see too.  I see guns, I see military training, I see heavy concern.  It is as if he is wearing another layer of clothing over him weighing his shoulders down.  His whole being says worry, concern.  As if he just stepped out of a meeting where national security on a personal level was being threatened.

This is just a glance.

As I continue, I see another man, similar in job and training to the man at the table.  Yet, well below his pay-grade.  He places a water bottle – the connection being my favorite brown-eyed man who helped my mind heal and rest one morning – by his ear.  This man was wearing an orange-ish t-shirt.

While in the restroom I changed placement of my water bottle because I heard the White House guard days previously, and I saw his ear spliced together in something I was looking at.

Because I have become concerned, worried about my safety, and worried about the level of publicity my blog receives.

There was a lot of code last night.  It was like an automated computer, or program feeding ideas into my head.

I stopped.

It was too much.

I wanted to sit and watch the scenery.

Brain-tired.

I will never understand the code for shopping.  Only buy this coffee, only buy this soap, only buy this t-shirt, only buy this and that.

It’s unnatural.

You would go crazy too if you were only allowed to walk a certain path, I can’t even think of all the ways they kill my creative thought process with what has taken place since 2012.

All I wanted to do was write when I moved here.  I have never been allowed to do that.

I saw Jeremy Renner on a motorcycle last night.

I saw James Franco last night, so I was made immediately unhappy.

Truth be told all these years of surveillance have squelched any desire I once had for acting.

Puzzle Pieces:

They want to know why I watched Don’t Mess With The Zohan.  This is a father memory or connection.  My father told me he thought I should be a hair dresser.  Not President, or an executive, or a powerful woman capable of greatness.  He thought I should be a hair dresser.  There is nothing wrong with being a hair dresser.  It is the fact that I saw him as he saw me in that moment.  Menial.  It is heart-breaking to see your own father not believing in you.

One of the greatest presents my father ever gave me was a necklace with my name misspelled in Hebrew.  He replaced it with another necklace spelled correctly.  I have since had to pawn these items just as I had to pawn items when I was living with a man.  So, that I can be used as a documentary subject rather than being able to live my life.

The present was not my father’s idea, he had help.

Going back on a diet since it appears that I wrote about weight-loss, so now I have to prove I can lose weight again.  I’ve been buying diet pills, fat-burners, and laxatives to combat the weight problems being delivered and altered after the fact.

This has not been enough to correct the weight problems I have for no reason.

I am overwhelmed already, and it is only Sunday.

Where is my worker’s compensation?

Where is my paid leave?

Where is my help getting my brain back healthy?

I went to a roller derby – unlike any roller derby I’ve ever seen before – where I was being talked to through another person.  I was sitting next to Stephanie Cruz because there was something odd about Kat that night.  He said through Kat, I looked nice.  That he liked women dressed casually as I was.  Wearing my favorite ball cap (Disney) because it fits my head the best, my Portland t-shirt (because its vintage) and jeans.

This is also the roller derby where David Esposito was disguised or dressed as a woman.  Does David Esposito = ed?  Education?  Because David Esposito at The Container Store seemed lazy to me.  I was trying to get promoted so I could afford to live on my own, the way I want to live.

As a birthday gift I gave David Esposito organic chocolate stout by Samuel Smith.  Because it had exceptional flavor.

I hear this in my head every day.  I messed up.  I = I, messed = me, ss could be secret service or stazi ss or something else, ed as in education, up = PU, as in stinky.

I believe people think there was a connection made to me viewing Star Wars and my favorite brown-eyed man.  It is not in my mind.  Because that man was similar but not the same.

Heavy head and doubts fill me.

Great unhappiness is my life.

Barely functioning.

Barely able to get out of bed for more than a few hours at a time.

My pupils are still dilated and fixed.

What have they done in my head?

Is it the food?  Have they drugged me?  Is it the soap or detergent?  Is it in the air-filter?  Have they done something to my carpeting?

Where is the cause coming from?

Or, is it just the events of 4/24/2018 that I am still recovering from?

To be clear, it was the event of lighting burning my back and neck that sent my car in reverse.  To not go back to damage done.  Yet, no matter what I do they are building with balsa wood all around me.  So, if after 1,000,000 steps, turns and directions if I did not turn a knob to the left it all comes crashing down.  And, I am supposed to understand and figure out why.  When my mind is light years away staring at the con in the corner trying to figure out how much time he’s done, will he do it again, and why he is at my gas station.

I will never understand the food, coffee, soap, clothing, and fashion code.  These things are redundant and meaningless.

Only wear a certain color on a certain day, only display a certain message here or there.  These things mean nothing.  They are baseless in value.  They lack in all ways emotional depth.

Lying in bed I am trying to understand the damage done to my head, so I can return.  Exercise again.  Be healthy again.  Be productive again.

Blunt force trauma on the side of my head is the best way I can paint that damage.

I see pictures on top of pictures.  Displays one over another.  Glued or welded together unable to separate.  Slammed into my head with such effort it has reduced most of my other brain matter to a gelatinous mess.

There were several people in my head-room on 4/24/2018.

The damage was the effort of more than one man.

I am trying to understand how it is possible that Sims4 and Virtual Reality were able to take over every facet, area, situation, and direction of my life?

Especially now, having proven that my mind is greater than any program always has been, always will be.

I believe the world is confusing a Hollywood director with me as a twin for POTUS.

This is untrue in every and all ways.

I have a voice and a mind.  Thoughts that create pictures, and I see great things.  And, some not so great.  Frightening truth be told.

I do not need a mouthpiece.

I do not need a man to stand in front of me to speak my words.

I am no one’s puppet on a string.

So, get it straight, yet again.

Miss writing in food.

I miss desire.

Must lay my head down.

What have they done to my head?

Don’t know if this is true or not.

The size of my pupils tell of the trauma done in my brain – still.

Grave concern fills me after seeing the Religious Experience.

Truth be told I don’t feel safe going to the movies.

It is either true or not.

Real or not.

Please do not confuse adoption with POTUS.

This is not the same.

What is going on?

Something he is working on or me?

A little scary here.

If it is not a true threat, they need to step down.

Sent away.

Nicest thing any one has said to me in a long time if that really was the green t-shirt telling me Miss Understanding.  It brought tears to my eyes.  As every day there feels like a new way to beat me up.

Meghan McCain, I heard her voice.  She was careful and considerate.  Making me wonder what it was they used to get her to speak to me.  I strongly said in my head you are not authorized to be here.  Get out!

They are going to use this, but they have it wrong.  It is a set-up, a stunt they use over and over.

Meghan McCain you were used.  I was used.

It is time for the man behind the curtain to leave.

Before I step into the building on May 15, 2018 I have shut my head, my brain down.  It takes me nearly all night to understand why.

Sometime after 2 am I say in my head, who’s here?!

Then I start looking in my head for them.  Are they criminal?  No, they do damage.  They do not break the law.  It is the cyber-bullies!  These posers and punks that I cannot stand.

Let me paint the picture of their interaction in my head, poke, poke, poke, tee-hee, tee-hee, tee-hee.  Poke, poke, poke, sniggering, sniggering.  Juvenile, child-ish, immature.  INAPPROPRIATE! 

OUT!  Get OUT!  This is my brain-head!  Get out!

This is their idea of a test.

I want to rip their heads off for their lack of compassion, understanding, and thought-process.

If you missed it I will say it again, it is time the man behind the curtain left!  It is because of these cyber-bullies pushing buttons, creating NOISE in my head, then placing someone like Meghan McCain in my ears and head to get a reaction out of me, so they can blame it on ignorance and hatred of her sexuality, politics, or family.

This is an untruth very, very, very close to criminal behavior.

Creating a problem in my head, then placing a voice in my head to respond to are not the same thing at all!

If I were you Meghan McCain I would be just as upset as I am.  These cyber-bullies do not “teach” anything other the lack of their own moral character.  If I were you Meghan McCain I would be ashamed that you were used in such a way.

It is very close to criminal behavior.

As if I for one moment give a care about another person’s life or sexuality except when it causes harm to another person or themselves.

Have you had to go on trial to prove your sexuality, Meghan McCain?  Or anyone else in the entire free-world?!

No, I thought so.

But, I have.  For years.

I made this comment in my head several weeks ago, remember Matthew Shepard?  Beaten to death for being gay and left to die on a fence.

I thought it had happened in the 80’s.

No, it was 1998?!

Have we learned nothing about each other and the world?!

This is 2018?!

We are still killing each other and fighting each other because of sex and gender?!

I want to scream and yell and tear my skin off I am so upset by these notions in this day and age!!!!!

Co-exist?!

How many years has this PR band-wagon been playing?

I used to buy into this notion that it was acceptable and correct to co-exist.

I say NO!

No, it is not enough.

And, no it is not the way it should be – EVER.

It is not enough to say that it is acceptable to live on the same or different sides of the street.

This is it?!

This is all that we as Americans, citizens of the world, human beings are ONLY capable of – existing?!

I demand more!

I demand that we think more!

I demand that we believe more!

I demand that what we do as a nation, as a society, as people is more than exist with one another even if we never meet in our entire lifetime.

What we create, what we put out in the world, what thoughts we create, what worlds we imagine are more than existing.

It has nothing to do with sex, gender, or color it has to do with belief!  With believing in people!  With believing the possibility for more in people IS POSSIBLE!

If you are wondering about the connection or puzzle piece between the McCain’s and me, it is my conversation with Stephanie Meyer.

I told her in my head of my belief in the power of people.  In believing in people.  It has nothing to do with their body, the size or shape of them, the color of their skin, their nationality, their country of origin, their hair color, eye color, sexuality, religion, or anything other than the power of believing in people.

That possibility exists within people.

Because of this conversation I was electrocuted.

Let me paint this picture for you.  Could you believe it was possible that saying and having such thoughts of truth could bring condemnation upon yourself?

Effects were used to burn my skin, it felt like I had been struck with lighting down my back and neck.

How do I get to get help for that?  How do I get to explain that?!

I had to keep working.  After being electrocuted.

This first time was not enough, they had to up their own stakes by placing a terrorist in my head.

How is this possible to allow?  To allow to continue?

Every day is not enough to simply NOT kill each other.

Fighting over matters that are not problems should never take place.

You and they failed to understand I can see and read brains.

Do not get it confused Meghan McCain was careful and considerate even after I told her to leave.  The blame belongs with the cyber-bullies who have not been challenged to heart-think with their mind.

So, I challenge you, cyber-bullies put down your VR, take a step back, step out of the shadows and into the light, allow the fresh air to breathe life back into you.

It is time you remember you are more than your job, paycheck, or clothing.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Because I am at a loss as to understanding the soap and coffee situation.  Because of the events of 4/23/2018 and 4/24/2018 I feel more delays in my writing are happening.

I have to go back to bed.  To lie down.  To rest.

But, what I want are vitamins, clean skin, lotions, the smell of perfume, water as I am so thirsty, clean clothes.

I don’t know how to get that.

Here are the events as they happened to me on the day of May 14, 2018.

I will not speak in actors – this is a bad connection for me.  I will simply write it as it happened to me.

Before I start I am at a loss as to understanding why it was necessary for me to change my internet service provider.  Here is the example: it must have been before 2004 as my mother was still able to speak when I had gone to the post office to pick up the mail.  There was a Verizon truck that was following me, listening to me – I do not understand the why.  I told my mother about the event.

I believe now that my mother had to have been spoken to or with either directly or indirectly.

Still, I am at a loss as to the why in all of this.

Why bother with me?

Why listen to me?

Why follow me?

Why, why, why, why, why not just leave me alone?

Since, it is impossible for me to give up the way I see things just as it is impossible for me to voluntarily stop breathing as it is for every person – anyone heard of a suicide by voluntarily ceasing to stop breathing?  I didn’t think so.  It is as if to say I can command my heart to stop beating as well.

I cannot.

Forget the traffic it was not a help.  However, I did hear in my head on the drive, a powerful man.

I responded with, a powerful man to whom?

Walking in to work, I hear a man’s voice – I see him at the guard house of the White House.  He is slightly bored.  This only has to do with the amount of activity at his job.  It is not the same as I see in a lot of men I am around.  This is not a critique, or a statement about his work.  It is simply what I saw in that moment.  I said in my head, he likes his job, it is a cush job.

Then, I hear a woman’s voice – I see a small office of multiple computers.  Is there a window?  Because it is lit artificially.  This is her office where she works.  I don’t see anything else.

Walking on my regular path, I am stopped to speak.  I see him immediately in a hydroxy cut shirt, however I must speak to another man.

Small talk.

Cut the small talk.

You both know why you are here.  You know what is about to take place.  You know what is going on.

I don’t.

Cut the small talk.

I could work on that because in all of this I am not good at it since I am at a lack of understanding.

Still, cut the small talk.

How can I help?

As I am working, I look and listen to HC shirt.

Bluetooth and surveillance knowledge: CH is my name’s abbreviation.  When I would write to my mother CH was my name, my sign name, how I communicated with my mother.  So, you understand the significance it was used in Seattle back in 2013.  Signs all over Seattle with HC written on them.  I did not understand what they were for, why they were being used, so I never followed them.  Also, Firestone.  The envelopes from Firestone had HC in a circle printed on them for several months in 2014.

HC shirt has kept his mind clear, his job, education, finances this kind of stuff I do not see in him.  He has an important job, but here is the problem.

Overwhelmed.

Hiding – not willing to divulge full details.

Not wanting to share.

Hiding is the best way I can describe what I see.  If you asked him a question he would answer truthfully.  It is not a matter of not speaking or sharing the truth.

He does not want to believe – the threat.  That this can happen.  That this could happen again.  Our way of life is threatened every single day.  Isn’t this the reason why our military is in use?  At home and abroad.

I ask myself questions, is he underfunded?  No.

I don’t remember every question at this time.

Is he under supported?  Yes.

This man.  HC shirt does not have the support he needs.

How can I help?

Another man’s voice.  You want me to give an assessment, and evaluation of this man’s military career?  He does not pass go.  Conduct unbecoming.  Is this true?  It is what I saw.  Is it true?

I am in the room with everyone.

And?

Unafraid.

Unashamed.

Unimpressed.  Here’s why: they set it up, so I would be out of my mind sick.  I was nauseous, I had very little sleep less than a few hours.  The best way I can describe it would be alcohol poisoning.  I was not hung over as I was still sick two days later.  It wasn’t really alcohol poisoning it is simply the best way I can describe it.  I was unable to move quickly, think as fast as usual.  Not to mention the everyday soggy underwear I have to live with, and what feels like hydrogen peroxide bubbling on my vaginal lips and pubic hair.  And, you think it is real when I flip camera’s off, yell at people, etc. when you have no idea what I am dealing with on a daily basis.

It had been set up, so I belonged there.

I am in the room as it happened in real time.

This time is difficult to explain, to describe.  I took time in making sure, of validating, of checking my well of truth before rushing to my computer to write about it.

I cannot see the exact actions that are taking place.  It is serious business.  This is not child’s play.  This is not a game.  This is not a test.  This is happening.

The best way I can paint the picture is it felt like a mission.

I can’t breathe.  Something is stopping my lungs from expanding.  I can’t breathe.  I speak it in my head, I can’t breathe.  Then, my breathing returns.

There is a problem.  Is this true?  I see movement while their eyes are elsewhere?  Is this true or staged?

Then, it happens again.  I see it from a different direction.  Is this true?  Or is it staged?

I hear celebration and congratulations.  I say, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  Because however, drastic and fatal the event may have been it is not over.

I simply cannot celebrate.

Today, I cannot celebrate.

I see in my co-workers they are not aware of the events that have taken place in my head.  All night, I see they have no knowledge of what has taken place.

Specifically, this is done because of the night of 4/23/2018.  As I hear President Trump through a slightly-varied voice of my favorite brown-eyed man.

I disagree a lot with this brown-eyed man.  He doesn’t want me to disagree with him.  There is confusion between us as to the difference between aguish, upset, unhappiness in isolation, and disagreement.  He doesn’t want me to be upset with him, however I am greatly unhappy with the arrangement I do not get to change, alter, or control.

I hear in my head they want to know how I knew it was President Trump speaking.  This takes a few minutes to clarify.  I understand because I read on every person’s mind, White House, White House, White House, White House.  It’s like being yelled at as I walk by.

Because as I enter that building – usually before I enter – there is such noise in my head.  NOISE, NOISE, NOISE, NOISE, NOISE, NOISE.  A lot of what happens in my head amounts to reverberating noise that travels throughout my whole body.  It is not simply a matter of hearing in my head.  It is NOISE.  NOISE.  NOISE.  NOISE.  NOISE.  NOISE.  NOISE.

It is a wear, and wearing on me, my body, my system, etc.  For $12 an hour.  I mean, give me a break.  Cut me some slack.

Speaking and hearing in my head are hard enough, then there is so much of this other program that generates and creates nothing but problems for me to work around and through.

I yelled at the brown-eyed man on April 23, 2018, I would do it again.  He should be so lucky that I wanted so much, I was feeling so much that I yelled at him.

However, it is not a good working practice this is the conflict for me.  The two cannot exist in the same space.  It is either one or the other.  Because the loss of intimacy in my life is unbearable.  It creates falsehoods – this is the best way I can describe it.

I stop everyone and everything suddenly and immediately.  Fighting in my house.  There is fighting in my brain-house.  I CANNOT HAVE THAT.   I WILL NOT HAVE FIGHTING WITHIN MY OWN HOUSE. 

That building is an extension of personal brain-house there cannot be any room for fighting within.  It is unacceptable.  Unacceptable.  I will not allow it.  I have zero tolerance for in-house fighting.

I leave work early because I am too sick.

Upon returning home, reading the newspaper, I see his picture.  Photoshopped, altered in many places.  This dead body picture was taken while lying on the ground then photoshopped to appear as if he was sitting.  I see blood splatter all over his clothing that has been photoshopped in black.  The head is different from the body.  The turban is different than he would wear.  The eyes have been photoshopped, so they appear alive when the two bodies are dead.  The head is altered to make the body and head appear as one when they are different.  His left hand had been moved to take the photo from where it lay.

I am uncertain if that was everything.  Those two men in the photo are dead.  Or am I incorrect?

The size of the man’s hand is significant.  Ask my favorite brown-eyed man.  Or maybe he doesn’t want to share pillow talk with the entire world.  It’s a brain thing.

Is that everything?

Timelines and deadlines are unrealistic.

The budget I have to work with is unrealistic.

Puzzle Pieces:

Do not forget it was me on the first date in my home that said Event Television.  Referring to The Royal wedding of Princess Diana and Prince Charles, and events that became Event Television – ET, Spielberg, VR.

Or am I wrong?

Overloading on photoshop at the moment.

You gave me a picture of his eyes.  I feel I am being used with him.  I don’t feel it is real for him.  I feel you use him to get to me.  In part because of all the bulk and mass you add to my food making me diet when I would not need to otherwise.  In part because I see women all around him.  In part because I am where I am, and he is where he is.  And, all the food problems, bulk problems they are problems and code I am unwilling to work for.  They should not be problems.  So, I don’t like him and send him away because of the food problems.  How could I when she uses him to create problems for me?

Stop using him.

Stop using his “voice.”

Here goes, code:

• Israel = Is, real. For EA, PA – electronic arts, production assistant.  If this hasn’t been made clear by me – this event never should have happened.  I am beyond upset about being labeled as a terrorist.  I am beyond upset about the event of 4/24/2018.  I am beyond upset about the virtual reality.  I uninstalled Sims4 for that reason alone the event of 4/24/2018.
• Reform = from ER.
• Miss Understanding – Miss = SS, IM – Under=Red UN – Standing, Stan D N I G or Stand NIG or both.

N I G could mean several things it could mean a derogatory name that I have never allowed anyone to use while in my head.  It could be an abbreviation.

• Stop using my heart as a means of control. I don’t being lied to.
• Madame Tussaud’s picture – Is this a relative of mine? On my mother’s side?  She is educated.    I didn’t need the Trump hair to get the connection.
• Jared Kushner – dressed as a Florida State Trooper. I will write about what happened in my head on 5/14/2018.
• La David Johnson = Los Angeles, DJ.

Not finished.

Too upset.

More delays.

I am going back to bed.

Uncertain at this moment if this helps.

This is what I saw, I heard I need to share this quickly.

Blonde woman, it is her right eye only.  I covered everything else up to look at her because she is not blonde.

Is it sad?  Grief?  Then, I saw defiant.

Another pic of her eyes only with make-up she was not wearing.  She’s dead?

Because I see trouble.  Uncontrollable, unmanageable, illogical movements and actions feigned in believer beliefs but this is not true.  She is a sick woman.

Let me sleep.

Let me lie here longer.

With eyes closed.  Dreaming.  Visualizing.

Placing my head and mind in order.

Let me sleep.

Let me sleep longer.

Sitting on a lounge chair wrapped up to my neck down to my ankles in an oversized white terry-cloth robe watching the landscape and scenery outside.  The trees gently sway in the breeze, the sound of water nearby, the temperature is cool in the overcast daytime.

He wants to get next to me, hold me.  I send him away.

I cannot deal with his impatience at this moment.

Because if it was up to me everything would be different.  We would see each other face to face, body to body, being allowed to touch in person, grabbing him, pulling him closer as there can be no amount of space between our bodies, no matter how close he is pressed against me, I am still grabbing him closer to me.

Yet, that is not the way it is yet…

So, I send him back to working, nearby, downstairs, below ground, where he has a whole floor if not several floors he works.

Food?

No.

Watching the scenery.  Feeling the outside air, and not forced air-conditioned air on my face and exposed skin.

I am trying to order my brain.  Clearing away.  Creating serenity.

Wide spaces.  No neighbors not for miles and miles.  This is a house, or a spa retreat all to myself and the staff he has for me.

In a room with a bed larger than my own home, I lie down.  I see a window I can look out at the scenery if I want.  He has set about a personal staff to give me what I need.

I ask for tea and a biscuit.  Herb tea with honey.  Arrowroot biscuits, not to sweet or dessert like, just a taste.  It is all I can manage to imagine in my mind.

I miss coffee and breakfast.  I miss lunches and dinners.

However, I cannot.  Yet…

Closing my eyes.  I am still processing.  I am working through.  I am working through more delays.  It feels like more delays as soon as my brain and body, as they both need to work as one, repair damage done.

Weeks away still.  As those with access and means create damage, havoc, obstacles, and interference.

Weeks away in delays.

I wonder if I am good for him?  To be around.  I question the difference in our careers and economic backgrounds.  Would we be good together in real life?  Would we as a couple be accepted by his peers?  By his family?  Or, can we only exist in a different reality?

My silence should be worrisome.

My lack of writing should be cause for concern.

My writing is at a stand still.

They have no idea what they have opened me up to.

I repeat, they have no idea what they have opened in my mind, my body, and my being.

The time for warnings and reprimands – not enough and unacceptable.

I am unable to share in one moment of victory or congratulations because the threat is alive and well.

That is not to say that a job was carried out and completed.  Still, if I am allowed to be honest, a bit sloppy.  HE knows it.

Please, do me and the world a favor and separate.  I want my sense of smell back.  That is all.