WE – DO NOT AGREE!

Coffee and breakfast in its usual format has been delayed because – there is a problem.

I have a problem.

I need your help.

The Bluetooth got to report it before I could get my head well enough to my computer as it seems the competition within the workforce is set to hurt me.

A bad connection has been made.

I am uncertain if it was done intentionally or not, however a bad connection has been made.  A bad connection to food, cooking, feeding people, being creative in the kitchen – don’t forget my apron post – and creating in my head with the event that took place on 4/24/2018.

A person can crawl out of the desert, but how long does it take before they are able to function well?

My head, my brain was getting better, but they have interfered with my body causing more delays as my skin is on fire, my head hurts, my sleeping is all wrong, and my body is lethargic.

All I want is to be able to have clothes that are clean, smell clean, the whites are white and not dingy, the colors are bright and not dingy.  Yet, I am treated to shrinking of my clothes, altering them to shrink, cutting my clothing so I must mend them, soap that doesn’t clean and on and on.

I watched Who Framed Roger Rabbit basically because I was told to.

You and they have yet to figure out my mind and brain are miles and miles away.  I am so far ahead.  My mind doesn’t work the way you have allowed others to be a part of.

It has been a revelation to understand that YOU do not know why this has been set-up the way it has.  I do.  I have.  I haven’t even had to think about it.  Because it happens that fast.

Let me go back a moment.

I ordered my Sherlock t-shirt on the computer in the garage of my Plant City home.  Just as I ordered my art posters from the computer in the garage in my PC home.

YOU do not understand that my garage here in this house – is my brain.  Left and Right hemispheres of MY brain.

How is it that you have allowed people to be in charge over me, handle me, yet have no idea whatsoever what it means?!

The original blueprint has been stolen, or altered, mislaid, or never communicated.

Somehow along the way it was turned into black and white, men vs women, vision vs copy, on and on – this was never the original context.

There is no choosing when it comes to your brain.  You use both parts of your brain.  Both the left and the right hemispheres.

It is not a matter of parents, mother or father, California, or a black woman, or a baby, or anything that has been made up since moving here.

The garage is my brain.  Orange and green are both my brain.  You have lied to the world allowing them to believe it could only be one.  You have lied to the world allowing them to believe it is something is never has been, never will be, never could be.

Now, my brain has been in trouble for weeks now.  It is getting better, however adding problems and pressure are not a good idea, or work, or help.  It is causing delays.

I needed help.  I need help.  Because I am hurting.

I placed my head on his chest near his shoulder.  I needed to be comforted.  I needed a place to lay my head.  It helped for a moment.

Now, let me write about the man in the green t-shirt.  With the circle and the equal sign.  Truthfully, I have no idea what that means.  I was not looking at his t-shirt.  I was looking at this big, strong, tough man who was worried.  Worried, concerned, upset, worried, not frightened – worried.  He had security problems written all over him.  He was silent, yet he was screaming security problems, they have no idea what they are doing, what they are allowing, what they are getting involved in, what they are opening everyone in the building and beyond up to.

I also saw his wounds.  He was wounded.  If not physically, it has left places all over him like bullet holes, yet bigger.  He is a tough man he can take care of himself, he takes care of his family, but he didn’t want to be there.  In that building.  Or involved at all.  He was worried.

With a punch of my fist – shutdown.  I do not believe I wrote well enough about the shutdown.  If my mind was a building full of steel doors feet thick and miles high with the punch of my fist I closed every single door immediately.  If there were people in the building that might have been…

I caution everyone to not allow my mind or opinion to be the final word or – I am running into interference while I am writing in my own home at the moment.  This needs to end.  They need to vacate the premises immediately, without delay, never to return.  I am not God or all knowing, so please do the work.  Do not only listen to me.

If my mind was a building full of doors, I closed them immediately.  If there were people who could have been trapped, hurt, injured, or killed by the doors closing it had to be done for there was not one second to lose.  It had to be done.  I was not going to allow that terrorist in my building.

He was a man.  Middle-Eastern.  Terrorist is the nicest word I can use for I do not know a word for a man like that.  He is educated.  He has wealth.  He has real estate.  He is intelligent.  He has a family.  He is more than a problem.

Complete genocide.  It has taken me time to get to write this because it takes time to return from an event like that.  Complete genocide of the entire human population.  Please read carefully because I am not leaving anything out.  He would leave the Earth intact yet destroy the entire human population.  Complete genocide.

So, I wonder why this man is alive.  Why this man is alive still.  He is needed?  You think you can get information from him?  You won’t.  You won’t get anything from him.  You need his family?  You need his connections?  Or no one has been able to impress upon those in power his mind?

Let me tell you, he would destroy every human being without thinking about it.  His life is not something he values.  Human life is not something he values.  If the planet means something to him.  Use it.

However, I do not know why this man is still alive.

I wrote, the world was not going to end because I spoke to Barack Obama, then I get a man like that sent from a great distance to me.  And, they expect and expected me to immediately – IMMEDIATELY – go back to business as usual.

They have no idea what they have done, nor do they understand as they should never be allowed back in ever again.

I deleted a game program from my computer because of it.

It has caused a problem with my special conversation as I understand it as a job.  I will not be able to think of it otherwise in this capacity.

Heavy doesn’t help.

I do not apologize for deleting a newspaper from my tablet either.  I must do what I am able to in order to preserve my brain since you have allowed people to be in charge of me, over me, and handle me who are incapable of understanding or have the intelligence to understand.

The event of 4/24/2018 has caused all writing to be delayed as I am trying to recover.  Inadequate sanitation is shamefully unacceptable.  It only further delays recovery time.

If that was Matthew Rhys on Tuesday, I believe I said it was David at first because it was David Wolfe on the motorcycle.  Placing a connection.  I couldn’t understand it because the man I saw was too short to be David.  If I had to guess.  The reason he did not read as an actor must come (please do not read into this word, fuckers) from all the people he has been around for research and help in his role.

All of these that I write about or think about I do not receive confirmations or denials about.

Also, to clarify since as I wrote earlier YOU do not understand what I understand.  The reason for the police lane is to allow for other traffic to be placed around me and no other reason.  You have allowed for punishment, etc. to take place that were never a part of the original plan or intention.

My head is not in a good place.

Heaviness is never a help.  It slows me down more.

The second visit to the dentist was upsetting, uncalled for, and unnecessary.  You have bad handlers around me who should never be involved and should be removed immediately, vacating the premises never to return.

They do not understand.

The voice I heard of the Eastern-European man on Tuesday – if what I saw was true – if she is over him.  If she is the manager or handler of him – she is not his equal.  He out-matches her by a lot.  All information he gives her could be filtered because he is capable of using her without her knowing it.

That great big mountain of male flesh you let me look at was a sight for sore eyes.  I said in my head he had a weakness.  He doesn’t like people very much.  It is hardly a weakness of any sort, but if your job is to read people and you don’t really like people in so much as he does not go out of his way for people it can be a weakness.  It is hardly a problem those in the rest of the world would understand.  They asked me to see and that is the only thing that stood out.  Otherwise he is as solid as he is built.

Truthfully, I am uncertain anyone wants to read these.  Yet, these people are placed in front of me.  I cannot help the way I see them.  It is something I have always had.

Pet food.  This is something I see around him.  He is involved with pet food, animals, he comes from a famous family.  He is a wonderful family man.  He is the kind of man who plays board games with his family and enjoys them.  I heard he lives a charmed life.  I said, no.  He has a nice life.  He has not had it easy.  There was meanness and fighting when he was younger.  Not charmed.

At the Red Sparrow screening, a woman with brunette hair wearing a white zip-front hoodie appeared after my Guinness purchase.  I said, loyal.  I said in my head, he would be so proud.  That woman is so loyal and in love with her husband, her family, and the life they have made – he, her husband would be so proud, ‘til the end of his days, he would be proud if he could see her the way I read her.

Also, at the Red Sparrow there was the sophisticated man who was surprised I spotted him so quickly.

My Earth Science teacher was the one who mentioned in class that driving was creative.  I remember him speaking although I was not paying much attention to much else.

There was the military man with the sluggish brain.  It is not due to age.  I said, if he has been overseas he should go on a cleanse.  It is possible to eat food that could have had a parasite that you would ingest, and it would live in your gut.  Jordan Rubin, Garden Of Life.  I suggested a holistic approach to health, perhaps his house needs a specific eye, and there is a loss of communication in his relationship that is causing strife.  Help him, please.  I gave him a kiss on his forehead, is what I said.

Does anyone really want to know these?

I an uncertain I should be writing these at all.

My skin in burning.

I have a heavy bowling ball in my stomach.

I need to lie down again.

I have lost all desire for food.

You think I’m following you, I’m not.

You think I read a newspaper article, or read anything and I’ll change my mind, my choice, my route, I don’t.

You think I see someone wear a color, clothing, or the way they do their hair and I’ll change, I don’t.

You think you can sway me with pornography, sickness, and simpletons, you haven’t.

You think you can own me?

You can’t.

You think you can direct me?  You don’t know how.

I am faster than you.

I am smarter than you.

I know more than you.

I have done this,  lived this longer than any of you.

I can out wit you.  Make you laugh without trying.

You have to injury me to slow me down, so you can catch up.

I am prettier naturally because I don’t have to try.

I have more scars than you.

I think more than you because I can think.

You have been ass-backward all along.

You think you can get inside my head and know me?  You wouldn’t know where to look.

You think you know what is going on, you don’t.

You think you are telling me, you aren’t.

I am the one who is constantly straightening you out because you are wrong.

You will always be wrong.

You were never going to win.

Because I am not a game.

Hello, my name is Cherith.  I think better than you ever could.

Proven.

Time and time again.

 

What a horrible night last night!  Surrounded by selfish fucking women!  It’s not enough that I am unable to be apart of the world, have relationships, have friends, have men in my life, I am surrounded by women who believe it is their right to demand my time sacrificing of myself to keep them out.

I am sick of it.

This storyline of a marriage I have instinctively not trusted from the beginning.

It has been proven to me that men and women will say anything in my head.

It has been proven to me men will say anything in my head to get me to masturbate or sleep with them so they can watch.  Sick!  Gross!

I deserve to have a man for real and not have a man assigned to me.

Yesterday was not good, so I am unable to see a continuation or repeat of the same filling station.

I am sick of seeing special or wonderful men only being led like a dumb-bell-lina when I know in my head and heart it is for a fact it is untrue.  Stay away from me.

Punished with extra calories for no reason.  Treated like a slave.

Sick of the lies, deceit, and games.

Can, I please have my eyesight back?!

While reading Bartleby the Scrivener I stopped after a few paragraphs.  Because the oddest thing happened to me – I could see Herman Melville.

I saw Herman Melville as he loved to write.  Sitting in a corner of a pub, drinking while he wrote.  He loved the sound of words, and he would roll them around in his mouth.  Finding the word, he felt was the best.  Round and around in his mouth.  Sometimes stopping to watch the people carry on in the pub sorta like watching television.

It was such an odd experience.  I saw it with such detail and clarity, I told my brother nearly as soon as I saw it.

After reading more of the story, I saw more of Herman Melville in my head.  He had health problems.  Small and easily unnoticed.  Nothing that would have been detected or cause for alarm in a doctor’s office or visit.  Yet, it caused problems with his mind effecting his relationships with his family and eventually his work relationships.

It could have been something as minor as a vitamin or mineral deficiency.  Today it is possible to not receive enough B-vitamins in our food and diet, so I could only imagine back in the 1800’s where refrigeration and ice where not standard to keep food from spoiling how easily a diet could keep you alive while your organs suffered borrowing nutrients from one another attempting to breathe and keep blood purified.

Island living was something Herman Melville was surprised to find out how much he enjoyed.  The cold, damp, wet weather of Northern winters could have been a little too much of a burden on his system.  It could have been a fabric that bothered his skin.

I saw wool.

I saw itchy wool.

It could have been a sensitivity to the material, or something in the process that his skin did not react well to, yet it was enough of an annoyance that it created conflict with his thought mind.

Shouting at others and unable to make up for it afterwards.  Not wanting to either.  More than a temper, conflicts, personality clashes.

Then, there was the enlightenment that the Anglo church was not the only place God existed.  People of different nationality and races could also have worth, be Godly children.

Then, I don’t know what happened.  Something on the island, the food, the weather conditions, sanitation, something happened where he started to disconnect not just from his family and home.  Herman Melville started to disconnect from the world.

I am uncertain that any of this could be determined to be true so many years after his death.

However still, I saw it.

I saw Herman Melville in my mind’s eye.

Imagine a place where you could create a real-life battle of dark vs. the light while using real people.

Like a chess board of black and white with real people as the players.

This is something I will be writing more of in other pieces because the destruction of such an infantile thought process to allow to take place with real consequences is obscene.

For in my reality what has taken place is that black men, African-American males are sometimes good and sometimes bad.  They add mega mass calories to food this is not good.  They stink, are foul-smelling to a repulsive degree, also not good.

Yet, black woman.  African-American females are the ultimate villain, destroyer of all things good, and represent filth and germs, stink and foul-smelling, repulsive to the nose.

You should be swearing.  You should be screaming, swearing, and cussing in your head as you read this.

My exasperation is beyond words.

It is repugnantly vile this story-line was ever green-lit.

My face and body are on fire as I am icing my body, wet wash cloths on my face to keep cool.

Disgusted.

You go way too fast anymore.

I am no longer in Los Angeles swerving in and out of traffic, nor am I on vacation.

The back log in itself presents a tremendous pressure in and of itself.  To me alone do I feel the pressure.  Then, I have in my head someone giving – I should say, shoving – information they either want me to write or a chore list of things to do while I’m driving home, waking up, or trying to get enough coffee in my system I don’t immediately want to start crying, curl up in the fetal position, or crawl back to bed pulling the covers over my head to rest my bones and weary mind.

It feels like shoving junk into an overstuffed garbage bin with an eye dropper sized funnel on the bottom expecting every bit of information to fall through the eye dropper as loads and loads of information spills over falling to the floor and elsewhere.

You failed to admit and confess the quick set has created more problems than you can understand.

I do not have a staff.  I do not have hired help.

Then, I have bad food delivered.  Boom, boom, boom heart problems.  Then, heavy food created so that I cannot move or think.  Then, my skin is on fire.  Then, I have dirty underwear.  Then, I have hair falling out or growing in the wrong places.  Sun damage.  Dry skin problems, on and on, and on and on.

You go too fast.  You are missing out on all the details the Bluetooth steals from me.

Its like slamming someone’s head against a wall while the full force of your palm distorts the shape of my mouth and asking me to recite the Gettysburg address from memory.

Ugh!

Enough.

Honey, can I please have my vision back?

I don’t know if someone illegally entered my home while I was away and replaced my contacts with a different prescription or if my vision is getting that bad.

It is not a good sign to have to replace a vision prescription more than once a year.  I cannot see more than 10 feet or so in front of me.

So, I’m never supposed to work again?  How else do I get to work?

Enough!

Send the children and babies somewhere else they do not belong in the workplace.

 

My skin is burning up.

I am overheated.

Do you really want to know about the boil, or acne, or puss-filled germ that landed in my crotch region?

Disgusting.

The only relief I get is to apply water to my skin.

I have no idea why this happened since I still do not understand why I am not allowed freedom of choice.

Losing the light of day quickly, so I am unable to complete this in full at the moment.  However, nothing has gone unnoticed.

Last Flag Flying:

A man edited in the picture – a Unabomber in the making is what I said to myself.  Ask the Bluetooth babysitters that reside in my attic if you want to check.  A dangerous man.

There are puzzle pieces at play, but I must away.

There was pressure again for me to change my car as if my vehicle is the better part of me.

I will remind you of something I heard.

Why change something that didn’t need to be changed?

He is the pants around here.

 

I don’t know what it is.

I felt something a few hours ago like a warning.  A dangerous warning.

A danger stemming from attention.

It doesn’t feel like any I’ve seen before.

Just had to stop to say so.

I want a new job.

Do you have any idea how humiliating it is every day to walk through David’s married legs?

No, we can never be friends ever again.

Every day my life is filled with me trying to live apart to move on from memories of David and all I end up with is humiliation.

As I go to the beach to escape this house and find David in the water with his wife Courtney making a scene as they kiss in the water.  Humiliating me.

I go for a run because I am told I am not able to go running in my own neighborhood to find David in disguise showing me how much better looking his wife is in her exercise gear.  Humiliating me.

No, South Carolina.  I will never believe I was anything more than a job to you.  Regardless of what I think of you.  For you – I was nothing more than a job.  Go down on her.  You were working, and I was a job and nothing more.  Smile or not.  You guys are better liars than I ever could hope to be.

And, for the record, I do not like magicians.  It’s a brain thing.  So, no.  You can keep Edison.

I never loved him.  I never liked him.

How many years David do you think you can keep pretending?  Allowing me no other choice is not the same as love.

Humiliation.

All you have ever brought me – humiliation.

There is all this pressure to do with my blog.  Am I going to keep WordPress or am I going to change to a Winix?  Both are still the same.

Is there a way to reverse this Bluetooth and body button pushing?  Then, I am for it since I never wanted it to begin with.

Is there a way to stop the pressure calories?  I would never do such a thing to another human being.  Especially one I’ve known to have had weight problems before.

I will never love you again, David.  I will never of my own free will be your friend in any way again.

If I could have another job tomorrow – I would leave you so fast.

My brain is still in a bad way.

Actors think it is the same as being on stage.  It is not.

It is not the same.

It is not the same at all as being on stage with another actor when you enter my brain.

It is not the same.

They have lied.

All these years have taught me nothing more than I wish I had never met you.

I will never marry Edison of my own free will no matter how many years you deprive me of male companionship.

I never wanted his body to begin with.

I wanted to be fucked by a man.  It is not the same thing.

My every day is filled with humiliation.  Body shame and humiliation.

This is the cruelest thing a person could ever do to another human being.

And, my writing…I do not give away.  Not to any person.

My writing is in no way an agreement to give or share with another person, company, organization, or affiliate.

No, I will never love you.

We cannot be friends.

You failed to understand my gift to see into other people’s minds.

God, I miss hockey.

God, I miss baseball.

Men and beer, a pretzel, a few bites of hos food…

God, I miss men.

God, I miss men who actually like me, find me attractive, and don’t humiliate me.