Oh well! After this morning’s dose of wise words from Maw about working to stay afloat financially and just like the morning gray clouds parting ways to clear blue skies, it is with sad revelation and with inner reflection to accept my fate spiritually and resign my high standards of parasitism to my parental units and my bad attitudes of laziness to my boring life style by the filing of an UI claim with the EDD.
The complaint of wasting my time at home, upstairs in front of the computer room means nothing to my progress and money that could have been given to those who have treated me well as their house guest is justified. Plus, as part of the oratory befits a teacher in disguise, I’m not getting any younger and the prospect of meeting my significant other while on the job sounds promising enough to Maw and her hopes of me moving on with my life.
Egad! I could die from the embarrassment, my pride shattered of ‘wishing on a star’ to be free from the system of hard working taxpayers and away from the faces of strangers with fake bitchy attitudes, back stabbing behaviors and gold wearing gossipers. The extra stimuli that would ride up my nerves, like loud, sudden noise could be minimized by avoiding work all together, which is next to impossible in this area or anywhere for that matter. A company of barter trading sovereigns would have been more conducive to my ongoing ideal of pacing my life in a calmer and more relaxed manner. And, yes, a happy heart resides in happy home.
Staying home is more rewarding by far without the rat race mentality leading to stress from urgent deadlines or caffeinated highs from coffee supplemented with donuts and bagels. Home is where I could play with four chatty parakeets of ‘happy bird, happy bird’ excitements; behold the beauty of sylphs and the disgust of chemtrails; enjoy the company of my parental units with normal affairs of morning mass, doctor’s appointment and grocery shopping; post my thoughts on discussion forums about anything at all; upload my photos on my weblog and to sleep whenever I felt during the daytimes – mid-morning and sometimes around 03:00PM during the hours when the ‘prana dip’ is high.
While my all seeing eye and other psychic abilities are being opened slowly, my eyes will now browse the want ads. Job hunting will now resume to the covering of expenses brought about by my maleficent encounters with the worshippers of Mammon, a bunch of online Zionist-based investors of German Jewish ancestry meeting via Yahoo! Messenger seven (7) years ago. And this was all because I wanted to meet ‘friends’ by an old personal ad placed online since 1998 by the same free service online.
The price I paid then was neither free nor is the buying of friendship. The price comes not from losing my chance of security with all its fine benefits that goes along with those trusted individuals or my hopes of freedom with all its unknown amenities that befits the most speculative associates but from the ongoing enslavement in a virtual reality of lies — many layers upon layers of untruth, like a flying bug snagged in the web of a hungry, blood sucking spider and the delaying the long, overdue contracts with death.
The ‘dances of death’ has been tried and tested many times over with two or more of his relatives to the recent death of the Mormon leader on Sunday, January 27, 2008. My only regret is not being able to prevent my angered thoughts from expressing itself in this dimension. My only request has been to help me overcome such resentments to their deceitful acts and intentions and probably for my own protection, whatever the case may be.
As far as a case like mine in concerned, there is nothing more far-fetched that could be done to rectify damages done or emotional hurt in the current justice system that frowns upon whistleblowers, whose only protection is unanswered prayers to an unseen, god-like entity amidst the opinions of biased judges. The future is bleak, I’m afraid, whereby bank accounts are not frozen but drained slowly as if giving of life’s precious fluids in the form of servile kindness.
My first act of kindness was towards a fellow with buck teeth. He is the poorest of his relatives and rightfully so, a standard ‘Christian’ with foul-mouthed sentiments that runs to the high heavens. I don’t blame him as he has reported others involved prior to my discovery over the course of these ‘hold-ups’ — as exemplified by his recant of a story back in high school days when two black guys threatened him at gun point. They may have been ‘men in black’ to intercept him. But I was found by him anyway years later.
As facetious as my story may appear, there is reason to believe that fateful event was primarily by the horse’s mouth, a Mormon, whose claim of my being his ‘best friend’ and a ‘right hand’ is equated to the likes of Masons and their ‘Supreme Being’ (whom I assume is a non-existent entity overseeing a secret society for the few willing recruits to their project — Axis of Egos).
My ego was high, like my shiney forehead, but my heart was pure then and now. As ‘buck teeth’ and I stood at the door way to a motel room, I saw the fat one sitting down in a chair on the left side of the room while he watched television. I blurted out my intention to what I thought benefited the many and to his surprise covered his mouth with both hands. I felt something was true and noted my observations to this day without ever realizing what I got myself into other than what was told to me at the time.
A few days later and at around 10:30PM, the arms of the fat one wrapped around my being, embracing me in the small motel room while in front of three adults and one child. Our small world passed by in the span of one minute — immortalized by his islander son’s singing the lyrics on his groups hit CD. Resistance was futile as I struggled a bit but relaxed to what seemed like an eternity by the same hands that will seal my fate.
But fate continued to present itself into my routine time and time again via phone calls, paper trails and leg work. The work keeps me busy physically but mentally is quite draining. The last bleeding outlet is a free service, ‘PreyPill’. Two others services — the ‘Westernized Unit’ and the ‘Moron Game’ — blocked me from further activities due to some compliance issue and has suspended my account online, respectively. My imagination came up with all sorts of reasons to explain why I may have been placed on a special list. So far, I’m an idiot.
And stupid people like me continue to do stupid things and we never seem to learn from history, such as never talk to strangers especially online. And two years ago attested to my hardest lesson yet: It was a chatter, who claimed to have met with foul play. And I played along foolishly thinking I could make a world of difference by participating in what appears to be legitimate. I couldn’t tell the difference but I let that go after one month of emotional trial and blogged about my personal experiences in short stories and poems.
Blogs do nothing more than contain some juicy material about many unexplained mysteries, spiritual or paranormal without much scientific evidence to provide as proof for the skeptics and debunkers except a few photographs, some of which are fuzzy and blurry. It’s the interaction that counts more with my most recent ‘friends’, who happen along and made their marks into my pages for the public to read. So to this day I could only hope all is for the good regardless of some specially trained people whom I may never know in person or ever see again in this life time.
‘They’ are of course everywhere: viewing my world through my mind’s eyes; watching my every move through their parked vehicles; monitoring my online activities through their tracking programs and making themselves known once in awhile with synchronous events, like chemtrails being laid directly over my home; popping sounds from the television or walls; numbering systems appearing as code; images of heart shapes in everyday objects like clouds and food stuff and sounds of happiness from nature (especially parakeets) and wisdom from people (especially Maw who mysteriously seems to recap thoughts I’ve previously entered electronically via my blogs).
However, certain activities seem to have been decreasing steadily, especially online: Noone wants to chat with forte and my emails are pretty much empty. Lately, I’ve received zero Nigerian e-mails ever since Dateline NBC aired the segment(s) on these scams, which is my greatest bane from the likes of bush whacking, Pete and pals whose dark actors can’t seem to stop taking greedy folks for what they are worth. Instead, I’ve been getting those ads for computer support and, well, physical enhancements for the male gender. This is totally a ‘yuck’ factor.
So far despite the concerted effort to tame my two middle fingers pointed upwards into the clear blue skies, I’ve learned that no matter what happens in the end the central theme remains: ‘I will always love you’. This is could not be more eloquently expressed than in this morning’s ‘romantic’ short story authored by a forum member, ‘Extralien’ and entitled: ‘This was her moment’ about Miss Clairidge and her stallion BlackBerry. And of course there is always a good laugh to be had, discounting any ‘bad’ effects upon the unwitting ‘victim’ in this game of life. I call out ‘Touché’ to those who know how to have some fun, too.
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