WE – DO NOT AGREE!

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.

I am not scared of that egomaniac attention seeking whore!

Michael Wayne Brown is out of my life!

If you were wondering that lousy criminal will never again touch me mind, body, or soul.

You see I’ve been to Russia and back. To say the least of people I’ve seen.

So, you can STOP force-feeding me!

 

 

 

I will not believe this lie any longer.

I have been horrifically shamed into believing I had to prove my sexuality – that I am straight, never been any different my whole life, that I only like men, that I am not a child abuser.

I will not believe this anymore.

It has only been used as a means of control.

To humiliate.  To shame.  To disgrace.  To make me cower.

Because in this house they had a year, plus all the surveillance that has been done for decades before there was not a moment in all the years – I mean decades that I was unaware of until these last few years – they had full access to the strength of my character.

I will never again believe I had to have sex to prove I was straight.

They believed they could continue the fake dating as another show.

I will never again believe otherwise.

When it was made known to all parties early part of 2014 it should have ended then.  None of this should have continued.

The damage to my friendship with David Wolfe is catastrophic and incalculable.

The damage to all the relationships I had with friends past a point of no return.

Everything should have been cancelled once I knew it was not real.  I have never played pretend.  This is all real to me.  Every day.

Every day I am left alone with no one to talk to, hear me, comfort me, dry my tears, or have any male intimacy at all.

You could see my upset, anger, and displeasure with David Wolfe while I was at The Container Store, yet they continued knowing I was not pretending at all.

Real damage was being done.  Real damage has been done.

As to the event of 4/24/2018, I do not now nor have I ever needed a surrogate father.  I already have a father.  My head was hurting, my body was hurting, and there was all this commotion and chatter in my head as I was trying to sleep.  I needed a place to lay my head, so I visualized a man willing to let me place my head on his shoulder.  For a breather, for comfort.  I visualized the best looking man I’ve seen recently.  It doesn’t mean there is anything beyond that.

If you could live my life on my side you would understand how to believe anything more can only be flattery.

It is not real without the flesh.  It is not the same in person as it is when you visualize.

He may know me,  but I do not know him.

I believe I have heard him, however there are a lot of voice tricks being played.  So, I will not allow myself to be deluded with lies, falseness, and flattery.

I know what I look like anymore.

What happened tonight – was unacceptable.

I have nothing I need to prove to anyone.

It was unacceptable.

You are relieved from being a visualization anymore.

We are not special friends.  I do not need you to replace my father or become a surrogate father to me.

Wow, that was really hurtful tonight.

Unacceptable and hurtful.

Boom, boom, boom, my head tonight.  Boom, boom, boom, boom.  Boom, boom, boom.  I want to unscrew it and release some pressure.  Boom, boom, boom.  Feverish.  And, dread as I start toward that building.  It fills me with dread.

It is startling to me that what seems obvious is not clearly understood by all parties and persons.  If it is they are allowing misconceptions to continue when they know it is not the truth.

Upstairs Downstairs heathered green door versus orangish copycat.  Also, in that kitchen the view is of the water rather than the traffic.  There isn’t any reason it shouldn’t have been Upstairs Downstairs.  There isn’t any reason I shouldn’t have my Thursday and Tuesday.  I felt like it was a plot to destroy my affection for Thursday to get rid of him.  It was either both or none.  They and I should never have been placed in such a way.

Is this true?  Was it at Rio Bravo?  I think it is called Tres Amigos now.  My brother and I had been looking at new townhomes, places to stay pending the sale of our home when we stopped for dinner.  We had looked at a unit in Phase 1 here that had water damage on the roof very similar to water damage I had in my room in PC.  It was a better unit than this, more spacious, an actual laundry room and not a laundry closet.  There was no electricity on in the unit.

When Creggan and I stopped for dinner, Rachel phoned that she would meet us there too.  She showed up after we had eaten with ice cream from Cold Stone creamery.  I remember excusing her odd behavior.

I’ve been wondering if my brother really had a choice to teach between University of Alabama and San Diego State.  He should have gone to California.  He would still be teaching.  This is a puzzle piece too, graduation is about my brother’s graduation from USF.  A friend my brother had at USF.  It has nothing to do with me graduating from an affair or dating experience.

My brother doesn’t like every person.  My brother has a slow-thought process in comparison to me.  As soon as my brother moved back home he took off for hours and hours.  This was Christmas Eve or nearabout.  Hours he was gone.  It was unusual.  When I asked him about the time when he got home, his response was odd.  I had to let it go because I needed his help.  I let a lot go because I needed help.

So, our neighbor Rob did a lot of talking.  I always felt he was a go-between.  Especially when he told me I was getting skinny – early 2012.

At the restaurant my brother kept asking me questions where I couldn’t hear him.  It was maddening.  But, I needed his help, so I didn’t get upset or yell or anything, I let it go.

I believe this is where I was assessed.

I remember trying to imagine my life in that unit with the electricity turned off.  As I tried in all the places we viewed.  I didn’t want the upkeep anymore of the half an acre we had in PC, yet when I looked at all these places great dissatisfaction took to my mind.  None of them had any outdoor living.  None.  This balcony here is not outdoor living.  There is no place to grow a single plant or anything, or sit.

I told myself I would be so busy with my new life I wouldn’t miss it.  But, that is neither true nor the case.

Crying at work tonight because there isn’t any reason I couldn’t have met a real man once I moved here.  Every man I’ve met has been married or gay.  Every man.  It pushed me into dating and sleeping with a man I didn’t want to.  But, there isn’t any reason I haven’t been able to meet a real man of my standards in all these years.

Before I forget, this storyline of a black woman and a Latina are both versions of me.  They are the same.  There is no choosing.

I miss my mother.  Remembering how problems started at her nursing home I had to let go of because I couldn’t get upset over what I couldn’t control or take care of anymore.  I am ashamed of people who have used her.

BTW, the lavender eyes in Sims4 only looks like “Erin” because of a survey question I answered and none other.  Don’t get it wrong.

Showing off a little with some hair dye.  I saw all I need to see.  He’s good.  Yeah, he looks innocent, however I saw him with a gun very well and lethal so…A long-term goal you have planned for him.  This man doesn’t work for Amazon or he would look like me – homeless.

The other good looking one – a photo, is it also a few years old?  I see a wealthy family.  I see trouble.  Or am I wrong?

Does everyone know all the full details wanting to see if I guess correctly?

If it was me I wouldn’t be sharing everything I write with the world.

Yeah, yeah, I am working on starting an outline for the WTC.  It’s a big story for me, so it will take some time.  And, my head is boom, boom, boom.

Who is it that benefits from the stories here and the stories there?

Why is it…I feel I am being patronized, placated, and flattered for no reason.  I said so while working tonight.  Because it seems obvious to me, so why flatter me to burn my face off and add bulk to my laundry soap, etc. etc.

I don’t know why we were going so far back to my Dillard’s manager 1992 or 1993?  God, he was good-looking.  6’3” blonde hair, green eyes, he had been a quarterback in high school if not college.  He had jock all over him.  Fairly to-do family which is how he got the job because as it turns out he spoke to me when he first started working it was only a few sentences if that when I understood he was homophobic, racist, and not that bright.  Yuck!  Not attractive anymore.  Am I dumb?!  Couldn’t I just overlook those…well, what I saw in him.  Nope.  I wonder if I would be happier than I am now if I did and could.  So disappointing.  Unfortunately, I was right it was true.  Lacking in character, and on and on.  Looks, but no substance.  Boring.  Pass.

________________________________________________________________________________

Tell me you’ll take me on that trip, that one we’ve talked about to Thailand, Vietnam, or Asia – anywhere.  Somewhere where we’ll go walking one night or is it late afternoon that happens into night eating meat off of the same stick, stopping for a sticky sweet, walking, then another morsel or two.  Where it is just you and I, you forget just for a few hours with me, and the world is a different place because we are in it together.

Tell me you’ll find and hire that pet sitter that will take care of my fuzzy babies, so I don’t have to worry all the time.  You’ll place them in front of the camera to make sure they are who they say they are.

Tell me you’ll buy me those silk short pajama’s you want to see my skin in.  Walking around a hotel room with you.  Where the problems of the world fade away for just a few moments.

Tell me you’ll do it if only in my head.

___________________________________________________________________________________

To clarify – baby is not an actual baby, or pregnancy, or any such notion that has been played.  Baby.  Is adoption.  I am not the baby.  Because he messed up.  I can almost see him.  Surprised.  Allowing softness to seep in, allowing for the possibility of something other than what has been his life.  A future long and full.  He messed up.  Premature.  He couldn’t go back.  But, there could be the possibility of adopting a baby.  That is not the same as carry a child to term which is no longer possible.

46 years old and the idea of adopting a baby…

Still no food writing.  Soup is about all I want and can manage.  Maybe some sourdough or rye Melba toast.  Perhaps some crackers.  That’s pretty bad.

Do you know they went out of their way to break my water and ice, A/C, electrical outlet, dryer, and so on because I was about to go through bankruptcy, and they wanted to immediately place me in debt to this house?  To be in debt again.  To this house. Not for something I want.  But, to this house.

How I would love to go back to Asheville, NC for a week.  Spending time in that great small town of Asheville.  Going through the Biltmore again.  However, I will not set off again with less than $100 for gas, food, and lodgings as I have been made to do in these last few years.

I know now that I was being listened to when I spoke of Anderson Cooper and him talking about the death of his father.  How money became the number one conversation topic.  My heart went out to him when I heard him because I saw him as a child and as an adult.  Now, get over yourselves I don’t care never have it is not the same thing as sleeping with a man.  I saw him.

Yeah, I know.  La Haine is the reason for the French President’s visit to the White House.  La Haine is a great film which is why I watched it in my home.  I am way ahead of you.

You know, there is no way that I should have been given a citation for the first accident since I was in the correct lane.  He hit me.  He swerved to me.

Looking back in my mind my memories MUST have been altered, tampered and messed with.  Because they do not match.

Upon impact I was in the correct lane.  I was not in his lane.  He hit me in my lane.  If he hadn’t swerved into me, he would have hit me – if at all – at the rear.  Then, I open my eyes, my car had to have spun around because I did not move my car, I couldn’t it was totaled, I am out of traffic, on the shoulder.  His car had no damage whatsoever.  How is it possible?

It is not just upsetting to be in an accident, I was unemployed at the time.  Now, I am in debt when I was clear of car payments on the Corolla.  I thought it was David Wolfe who sold me the car insurance on my Honda.  He is a better actor than I thought.  I said at a Christmas dinner, the man who sold me the insurance would have been a better match for Creggan than Roy.  I never liked Roy.  It had/has nothing to do with the color.  He has never been genuine, so how could I want that for my brother.

Problem came into my mind a few days ago.  I feel as though about a year and a half ago, I was given – during sleep – a mind trick about my teeth.  There is a panic, a distrust, a worry, concern, I don’t know an exact word other than a heavy burden of not wanting to take care, clean and brush, and floss my teeth.  Also, it goes along with personal hygiene, exercise, and a proper diet.  So, someone around a year and half, or a little more ago someone did a terrible, terrible not just in my head, but also in managing and handling me.  I can’t quite see it in my head.  I feel it about in there.  It is pretty pervasive.  Hard enough I am not given proper soap, a constant soggy crotch still, then I have this like a mist in my head damaging circuitry I had worked so hard to place i.e. diet and exercise.

I am struggling still six years later to survive.  Not just to live, but to survive.  There isn’t any reason I shouldn’t be employed with greater pay.

This is a jumbling of so many conversations.  By the way, please stop flattering me with men like that.  I know what I look like anymore.  I used to be pretty without trying.  Remember a few years ago when I turned the television on standing in my kitchen in a negligée sans makeup hadn’t brushed my hair yet, and I was pretty enough to be on television.  However, NOW I am not allowed and able to be properly clean.  In part because I am now longer able to make my own decisions.  Choose whatever products without any ad placements on any such nonsense.

The first car trip to the west coast should never have taken place as such.  The manipulation during my sleep sent me driving to the west coast without all my money, passport, or my cats.  I believed I would have been able to drive back and get them after I had found a new place to live and stay.  But, that was never going to be possible.  So, why bother?  Just to get footage from my vehicle of me driving?  I have all the camera’s covered because I am not able to do things like stop for a coffee, or drink water, chew gum, or eat anything in my car.

So, the Bluetooth, surveillance, my previous computer, and so on all knew I wanted to go to Vancouver again.  I made sure my passport was current.  I had Canadian money.

You stole my life from me by not allowing me to be able to make decisions on my own any more.

Nothing I wanted to do, I have been able to do.

On the car ride to the west coast was when this all started that I was no longer able to pay outside as I have always done before.  I had to pay inside.  It has caused me great unhappiness to say the least.  It is not natural to me – is one way to put it.  For so many reasons I prefer not to pay inside.

Also, I had a conversation with Joe at The Container Store about my family history as it was told to me by my mother.  I guess I find it hard to believe, yet I have no reason to doubt it.  I don’t believe my mother would make up a story.  According to my mother my great-grandmother is from the House of Orange.  If not full lineage, she is related to the House of Orange yet married a commoner because she loved him.

There were a lot of family conversations about heritage and my family tree.  I remember in Carmangay with my mother at Pete and Connie’s home they were discussing the family lineage.  At the time it was difficult upon hearing the names of people to place them, so I could order and organize them in my head.  As I am a visual learner.  It goes with the dyslexia.  I have worked very hard to over-compensate for my auditory-dyslexia.  It has been taken advantage of greatly in being able to move me about rather than listen to my logic.

So, I have a soggy crotch again because I parked next to a tree?!  Are you fucking kidding me?!  What gives anyone the right to do that?!  That doesn’t make any sense to me.  Here’s why, I protect myself by not stepping over the black outline stop.  I protect myself over and over by not doing things.

You find ways to invade my house and make up excuses for your behavior.

At this point you can forget me writing about Barak Obama and Donald Trump.  Along with a few other pieces.

I want another job.

I am no longer changing the tape machines.  Forget it.  Stop wasting my time.

I want another job.

I want another job.

Sweating to death for no reason this is going to be another week of the same.

I want another job.

I want another job.

No more writing about food.

I want another job.

I do not want to be FORCED to be around David Wolfe and family anymore!!!

I want a life of my own without ANY OF THEM!

My anger, frustration, disappointment, outrage, and hurt goes beyond just the Wolfe family.  I’ve had it with all persons I’ve seen in these last six years!

I want another job!

He is very far away from me.  There is a sadness there, I question.  It feels like it is not enough for him.

I question his approach to me, I believe, I feel, he should have done differently.  He’s chosen to step back, and coordinate as if I am a member of his team.  Talking at me, telling other’s to handle me as if I am a member of his team.  When he has felt and seen me differently.  So, I question why it is not possible to treat me more like a person with special knowledge and access and less like a person needing to finish tasks, chores, or a list of assignments.

He has grown greatly dissatisfied with the arrangement recently.

He is slightly frightened of me – this is a good thing.

Doubts circle his head.  Does he receive flak because of me.  Because I am only a civilian who comes from nothing?  Yes.

Astonished to find out he wanted me to visualize myself in dresses like those not off a sale rack, at a function where money was so abundant.

Outside a small town in Texas – oh, there are a lot of problems in my head going back to the first drive – I parked at a nursing home.  Why, I don’t know.  I was told to.  Walked around the landscape, through a neighborhood, there was a big cross, a school, more neighborhood, I got back to my car as the sun had just gone down.  The lights of the town below in front of me were twinkling in the dim light.  It was a beautiful picture.

Jerry Jones.  There is an unspoken connection.  He does and gives a lot away for those persons not seen.  A lot.  He feels it is never enough.  He’s probably right.  However, he gives to them.

While at Hilton, a trainer complimented me on my outfit.  I remember because as I can describe it now, it was not a compliment from her.  I was wearing denim overalls with a light sage green cardigan.  I had a scarf around my neck.  Make-up and hair neatly done.  I probably had my Sak’s Fifth Avenue loafers on, the shoes I don’t see.  See, I may have been overweight, yet in my head – I was not.  So, I didn’t read as a heavy woman.

My brain is too tired.  Synapses dulled, hurting, greatly unhappy.

You should know I am a little upset with you.  You are selfish with my time.  Greedy.  Am I disagreeing with you or someone else?

He wanted me to visualize me at a fancy function, in a gown.  It is not just because I wrote about it.  Then, what I get is bowling ball food, food and drink keeping my head unworkable and in bed.  Indigestion.  Bloating and pain.  Body unclean.  Leaving me un-wanting to brain-speak.

Yeah, you have approached me incorrectly.  Because you are dishonest in your feelings.

Lying down again.  Wash cloth on my head.