Post on Facebook Following Parsons Green Terrorist Incident

Latest Development With My Neighbour

I’ve written about my neighbour before, how he keeps banging and shouting at me.  He’s been doing it for months, especially when I have my music on, even if it’s not particularly loud, at points where I feel it begins to open up.  He does it when I’m singing as well, even when it’s not loud, and it rarely is, I’ve been that intimidated in recent months.  He used to say he liked my singing.  Now he seems to be using my points of openness to command me like a dog.  I know he’s having problems, and I have said repeatedly that he should go to the police, but he seems to prefer to make me feel miserable.  Recently I’ve been finding ways to yield and not vent, to go inside myself, but sometimes I boil over and, after about two hours of it last night I decided I’d had enough.  The thing is, he sometimes sounds so pathetic, it goes right to my heart.  But there is nothing I can do.  The power is in his hands, and he prefers to use it towards me.

I’ve been feeling really desperate about this for ages.  I reported it to the council, I told them everything, including the fact that I was getting hysterical and shouting back and that I was concerned for him and that we used to have a good relationship, or so I felt, even though, on closer examination, the harassment from his household started quite early in my tenancy, but it only manifested as one incident which I felt to be a shocking and outrageous invasion of privacy.  Someone from the council came round and he told them there was no problem, that I had a lovely singing voice and was very supportive.  I’ve not been able to be ‘supportive’ towards him for ages, and don’t see that as my role anyway, even if he wants to co-opt me into it.  I just wanted to be a good, friendly neighbour, and tried to be that for ages.  Recently I have been feeling so desperate and angry I have sometimes been channelling it into thoughts like he will die before me, hopefully.  I can’t always just make my anger go away, it won’t always dissolve, sometimes it’s just overpowering and won’t be transformed into anything else, and I’ve usually felt I have to find a way not to vent it on him outwardly so I’ve been letting myself think these thoughts.  Often, if I haven’t said anything, he’s just kept going, and I’ve kept feeling destroyed by it, and sometimes when I have shouted at him to stop I have felt I should have done it before, that he has just been taking advantage.  Why don’t I just go round?  I’m often embarrassed, and he is crafty and a liar, in my eyes.

Last night he yelled out while I had my music on and I interpreted it as ‘no’, so eventually I shouted back, ‘yes, actually’.  I can’t remember if he was still yelling out at me when things eventually blew last night, but I shouted through my wall for him to stop harassing me, and he gave one sharp bang, which really upset me, and I shouted at him to stop, and he gave another, deliberate and well placed bang.  I was outraged and beside myself, seeing this as violence, at least on a psychological level, and thinking it was sadistic, cold, cruel and calculated.  So I shouted at him to leave, because he wasn’t going to drive me out.  Then I shouted that, if he banged at me again, I would call the police.  My hysteria kept coming in waves as everything was suddenly silent and I interpreted it as contempt and that he only goaded me to make me break down and that he enjoyed the show.  In my desperation I told him I was finished as far as he is concerned, that there is no longer any good will coming from me towards him, and that I couldn’t wait for him to die, and I wouldn’t be sorry, and I hoped it would be soon.  I told him I wouldn’t apologise for what I had said, and that he could live the rest of his tenancy next door to me knowing that this beautiful, kind, loving, talented woman just wanted him to die.  Judge me, if you like.  I’ve taken all I am prepared to take.  I can’t stay open to this kind of behaviour, and won’t.  I decided he needed to know exactly how he was making me feel and that he needed to deal with that.  I’ve decided he’s not reasonable, he just wants to appear that way.  He is a complete coward.  He’s been doing the same stuff this morning as well.

Also, I have recently stopped feeling obliged to put my bins out every time the collection is due, because I have very little waste, and it has also turned out for me to be a way of living my life here on my terms and not feeling controlled by other people’s timetables, as if I have to keep jumping to it when other people and their routines seem to say I should.  Premier Christian Radio has, on several occasions recently, made a thing of talking about putting bins out, together with other things they target me with, and I’m wondering if he has talked to them.  I’m feeling ganged up on, again, as I believe, in actual fact, I am being.

Today I’m Going to Write About . . .

The feeling that I can’t write.  No, I’m not, I’m going to write about the fact that my head feels numb.  I should have taken procycledin but I didn’t because Tracy was on and I didn’t want to ask her.  Also I’ve had a glass of wine and I’m about to have another.

I’ve borrowed a book from the library called ‘This Is Madness’.  It’s a compilation by three young mental health professionals from the 90s.  It talks a bit about empiricism – ‘if it works, keep using it’, but that really it is about controlling behaviour on the ward rather than about sickness.  Talks about lobotomies and how neuroleptics (renamed anti-psychotics for political reasons) do the same thing and how they alter the brain.  I should think they also alter experience.  I feel very tired because I didn’t sleep much last night, until I played some Michael Mish on my mp3 player.  I fell asleep half way through but it was around 6 am by then, and people were beginning to move and slam doors.  I had an 11 am appointment which didn’t materialise until 1 pm.  Also it has been decided that doors should be locked at weekends as well as weekdays.  Terry came around saying time to lock up.  That was the first I knew of it.  At first I thought it must be Friday and I had made a mistake, then I thought maybe Terry wasn’t with it and he thought it was Friday when it was Saturday.  But no, we now have to lock up every day.  No rest days.

I’m censoring myself as I write today, because I think I’m being bitchy if I write what I have on my mind.  I’m going to uncensor myself.  I was thinking about Tracy and the time she said I wasn’t powerful enough to ‘have her job’, ie to cost her her job.  It was when we argued about what time the TV went off.  Although there is a notice up now saying 10.30 it often doesn’t happen then.  But it was her attitude, and her assumption that I’m ‘not powerful enough’.  I was told today that there was no reliable witness who saw me kicked so nothing was going to happen about it.  I’m wondering if it is in the same league.  I’m wondering if we are deemed not reliable because we are mental health patients.  If so that is definitely discrimination, isn’t it?

Tracy and Sharon both turn away from me and are nice to other people.  Tracy just ignores me, Sharon is rude to me, all the time.

I feel ill now whereas I didn’t so much before.  I have lost my alertness and sharpness, and a lot of it I can put down to emotional suppression.  I’m ever so tired, and I feel irritable.

I’m hoping I might be moving out of the hospital soon.  I’ve been told that unless I have lived in Nottingham for three years out of five I am not entitled to bid for housing but that I can go through the homelessness system.  If I do I’m hoping that will mean I will get at least a temporary flat and not get shoved in a hostel long term.  If so they have made a real mess of my life, if I end up being shoved in a hostel or B&B

This Morning

So, what happened this morning?  R in the wheelchair told me it was either Sue or Sharon who said she had legs, she should use them.  When she told me that they were both sitting opposite me and she just said the one sitting opposite, so that is as close as I have it for now.  They started whispering together and laughing.  It came up about Sue swearing at me and telling me no one liked me again, and she said I had no proof.  They told me I was boring and my blog, which they say they haven’t read, is boring.  They told me I don’t know how to use my brain and that I am paranoid.  Sue said I was paranoid when I was saying about her swearing etc.

OK, I don’t have proof, but she and I both know, and I know she is lying.  She lies even to say she isn’t lying.  What sort of person says that another has no proof when they are expressing that kind of concern and offense?  I believe I should not need proof.  They have almost absolute power over me and I think that I should not need proof in the same way that a person reporting a past sexual offense against themselves does not need it.  We are that vulnerable.  I hope it turns out that I do not need proof.

They were all shouting at me this morning and laughing at me and letting other people, patients, shout at me.  They kept taking their side and using them to have a go at me.  I tried to talk to the doctor about what was happening and they wanted to hang around outside the door and watch, as if I was dangerous, so I said I would talk to someone else.  Jesus said the same thing – why have you come at me like this?

I couldn’t eat lunch, it was too spicy.

Whatever these people want, I will not work with them.  They are Nazis.  I will not have it said that they are working with me by my consent.  I’m not sure what they think they are trying to achieve, if it is not just trying to disempower and humiliate me.  Helen was there again, Steve who was responsible, so I was told, for the decision to not even help me with my bed.  Steve stayed laughing in the background, the women worked me over.

It started because I was told I needed to be out of my room so they could do a cleaning audit, and I let them bully me out.  I wasn’t dressed, I hadn’t showered.  When I pointed that out Sue gave me an empty stare and said ‘tough’.  I’d had a bad night because a woman on my corridor kept slamming the door again, I think it was Kerry, but I’m not sure.  It also could have been staff.  When I wanted to go back in my room Sue was sitting there and she said ‘she won’t come out again’, then we got into an argument about my right to stay in my room, and the fact that they can’t manhandle us out if we are not a danger to ourselves or anyone else.  As I said last night, they know it is the only place I have and they are taking full advantage of that. They were saying the other patients were all out and I said they didn’t have to be because the law protects us.  They were goading me, with complete disrespect.  They stripped me naked and insisted I stay among them in my distress, with them tossing me around on their horns.  I’ve had the hospital as my only home for nearly 16 months.  It has always been untenable.  I told them I would probably be gone within a month because accommodation and discharge is being talked about, and one of them threw up their hands and said hurray, or something to that effect.  Two of the other patients started on me, one said I should be in prison or in a hostel and that they were going to phone the police.  She got on the phone and asked for Scotland Yard.  I told her I would happily be in a hostel but they wouldn’t let me go.  I’ve got to wait until after 4th September when my Care Co-ordinator gets back from leave, unless I can find out from my advocate that there is a quicker way of doing it.

I had a dream last night that I was looking after Brian May’s house for him while he was away.  I also dreamt about the whole of the original Queen cast, but their hair was up in frizzy bunches on each side of their heads, while they were singing.

Oh, apart from putting me in the wrong all the time they asked me if I wasn’t sick of the sound of my voice.

Of course my constant fear about my blog is that it isn’t making the difference I want it to make, that in spite of all the clicks people don’t read it and they do think it is boring.  All I can say is that I am a real person coping,or trying to, with a terrible situation.  And I think I have something to say which should be taken seriously and should make the difference I keep saying I want it to make for myself and for others.

Unsolicited, Detailed Police Antics in a New Place

On Sunday morning 5th February between 9 and 10 am I was in the O2 Shopping centre at Finchley Road, NW3.  I have never been in there before or got off in the area for years.  I had noticed an express hotel while passing on a bus and although they had no rooms, they were happy for me to buy tea and coffee through the night and buy breakfast.

I decided after standing at the bus stop for a little while that I would go in and see what was there, see if I could get a cup of coffee.  I went into Starbucks at just after 9am.  A young policeman came in directly behind me and as soon as I had finished asked for a fuckochino.

I’m sitting in Caffe Nero at the moment fighting for emotional possession of what should be mine to possess, where they have repeatedly looked at me as if I am a nuisance since I came in, and they are trying to do some sort of operatic thing behind the counter.  I’m finding it distracting and an act of sabotage, at least in terms of emotional connection, so my writing is hurting me.  I heard something recently which makes me feel that the police might have leaked a photograph of me to people and places like these, or maybe this is just the way they deal with people they really don’t like the look of and don’t want around.  I say again, schizophrenia is imposed by ruling dishonest savages and is not inherent in the person.  They advertise free internet here, but seem to be doing everything they can to distract me in my use of it.  It is not supposed to be their creative space to the distraction of the customers.  If I wanted opera I’d pay for it or find it on the internet.  I certainly don’t want to be involved in an angry psychic improvisation in a way that totally grabs at and demands my attention, for whatever reason.  It is 8.07 am at Canary Wharf.  It seems there is a wave they grab at with singing every time I start to think and feel.  I feel fear and distress and hurt and anger.  Betrayal and discrimination.

But back to Starbucks in the O2 shopping centre at Finchley Road.  And if I don’t manage to write all I know is in me to write, I might hopefully be able to come back to it later.  These coffee bar people seem to think they are the new 5 star hotel staff or the aristocracy themselves, but that goes for all service staff everywhere, in my experience.  Always imposing themselves, no discretion or sensitivity.  They have the rights, they say in writing, and their power is always upheld.  But we are paying and they are the paid.  So if they distract or impose themselves it is an act of theft, as much as anything.  I know my recent writing must have done the grapevine, and they are deliberately trying to distract me.  That is harassment.  I’ve never been in here before.

I asked the policeman if he had asked for a fuckochino, and his mate (3 or 4 others had joined him, including a woman.  I only remember one but maybe there were two) said to him ‘did you ask for a fuckochino?’ and he said ‘yes, I did’, and they made a joke of it.  I talked about verbal assault and harassment and went and sat down with my coffee.  I sat in a corner as far away as I could manage in the hope that it would keep them away from me, and also there was an electrical socket to plug my laptop into, which was what I needed.

Anyway, they sat level with me, but on the other side of the room.  They sat there effing and blinding loudly for ages and no one challenged them.  They were talking about crazy, crazy cat and vegan frappacino, which is something I had quite a lot in Starbucks when the weather was warmer.  They have told me their syrups are all vegan, so I have it made with soya milk and without cream.

Shortly after they started this a man came in with his young daughter.  I think from memory she was around 10 years old.  I had noticed her on the escalator earlier.  She had lovely long red hair.  They sat in front of me facing me, and I hoped they wouldn’t leave as I saw their presence as my safety and protection.  But these officers must have gone on for about 20 minutes or more in this vein, and eventually one of them said something about the position being clear.  They seemed to be watching my reaction and gathering from it that I was not going to get involved, but blog.  Soon afer he said about the position being clear I said my position was that I didn’t like them sitting there harassing me and using that language, which anyone else might have been arrested for, and talking about crazy.  Although they went quiet as I was speaking they didn’t acknowledge me, but I think they left in a sort of silence a minute or two later, no apologies to me or to anyone else.

Afterwards I sat there confused, feeling as if the attention was a positive thing and that it would be treacherous, unreasonable and perverse of me to find anything wrong with it and to try to expose it.  I thought they were trying to centre with me, perhaps, and stripping themselves of all decency to make me feel secure and communicate that they wanted to talk to me and wanted me to trust them.  What else, after all, is supposed to be communicated by their lovely smart uniforms and their clean, fresh appearance?

Then I thought what if it was someone else being treated like that?  If I accepted it as positive for myself it would be saying it was OK to do to someone else.  And at Heathrow I was arrested for swearing.  Mine was in desperation and anger but theirs was a constant stream of non-stop, jocular, almost barrack room stuff.  And there was a little girl and her father hearing it all.  Recently they have been saying to me that there are children around when I have been angry with them, and I have said that I didn’t care.  In the situation it was emotional blackmail.  These officers did not care that this little girl was party to this behaviour.  I’m not sure they thought about her at all.  They could see her.  When they have challenged me with the statement that there were children around, I couldn’t even see them.

I was thinking last night about something I have read quite often, that there are people with such low self-esteem that even negative attention is seen as something to be desired.  That is me.  In the presence of such a clean image, even if they are acting like that, I feel like such a low life that I deserve it, or that they are even engaging in an act of kindness to tell me that they are approachable.

But yesterday I thought (I have just looked at the girl behind the counter.  She looks very angry and defiant of me.  She knows as well as I what they are doing) would anyone want their mother or grandmother or wife or daughter or any other female to be treated that way?  If I ‘OK-ed’ it for myself, would anyone else thank me for that?

I stopped to think just now and when inspiration began to come, when I started to level out with my own emotions and thoughts, one of the girls behind the counter said ‘here we go again’.  It is a deliberate act of control and sabotage.  They have just started singing again in the same harassing way.  I was not going to write about them, but since they are taking from me the things I am wanting to write about, they have brought it on themselves.  I’m not sure who they are doing it for.  Every time I stop to feel an emotion they whine it out.  That is a statement of fact, not hatred speaking.

I can’t go into it in depth in these conditions, I can’t access depth language and expression or thought or memory reconstruction, but I was feeling that I have lost my sense of where the boundary lines ought to be, that I felt guilty about not accepting their behaviour with gratitude in the first place, and that I still do.  The officers were completely inappropriate in their behaviour, and it would have been equally inappropriate with or without the presence of the child, and whether it had been public or private.

So that is it.  That is that incident from Sunday.  There were about 4 or 5 others over the course of the weekend, but this one was completely unsolicited in a place I have never been in before.  I’m almost afraid to make such a categorical statement, but I believe it cannot be OK.  However extraordinary the situation, proper procedure and approach should always be adhered to.

I told the girl’s father that I loved her red hair and thought it was beautiful.  I did think it was beautiful, and I wanted to say so, because there are so many instances of redheads being bullied and I read about one recently, and I wanted to affirm her.  Afterwards I felt as if I might have been stupid.  I tried to stop the father as he was leaving and apologise if my comment had been stupid, but although I think he heard me say ‘excuse me’ he didn’t stop.  At the time I only saw them as being a protection for me.  I didn’t think about them being equal victims of the situation at all.

A few minutes ago the girl behind the counter said loudly, angrily and challengingly ‘I’m spiritual’.  She has loudly said ‘sorry’ a couple of times, but not to me, though it was meant for my hearing.

A few weeks ago I read and commented on a blog called ‘disable me’.  I feel as if I am being conceited even to mention it and to say this is a deliberate attempt to disable and control.  The way she is talking at the moment I have an image of someone parading themselves angrily on a platform and insisting on being acknowledged and looked at.

Finished 9.32 am

She has just said ‘baby’.  And now she is singing Cum by ya, and has gone into mocking singing.

Edit 9.42  They are openly and derisively miaowing at me.  It is savage.

My post tagged ‘police’ half an hour ago is not showing

Link here.  Why is this not showing, WordPress?  Censorship, harassment, terribly cynical of someone, inhumanly so.  Frightening.  What is the agenda here?

Edit note:  It’s been taken off the Christianity page as well, and it was definitely relevant.

Look, this is embarrassing for me and it should also be embarrassing for you.

It should be embarrassing for you because you say you stand for free speech, freedom, openness and open society – don’t you?  Those of us who are regularly censored know that is not the whole truth, if the truth at all.

It is embarrassing for me because I believe in open authority and politics.  Anything less says the populace is somehow inferior or not well enough informed and doesn’t have the same right to information.  It casts secrecy over things which should not be secret.  The ‘wrongdoer’ sometimes doesn’t know that is what they have been identified as, rightly or wrongly.  It allows one group to identify itself as right against another they identify as wrong, including in international politics.

It says that the person or people the various authorities identify as wrong are the whole cause of the problem and the authorities, and those who establish, employ and use them, are good and right-minded people, and also pure in word and action, or at least justifiable and ‘not guilty’.  People are criminalised just by the approach of the authorities to them, whether they know it or not, and whether or not they are actually criminal.

I believe in openness.  We are all as good and all as bad, we are all to blame and we all have the same rights and responsibilities.  Mistreated people are angry, and some angry people do harmful things.  Unequal relationships are a form of mistreatment.  Unequal vulnerability, unequal disclosure, people in authority or positions of influence who see themselves as being authority rather than serving in administration of what is appropriate to their job.

This is all old hat and I believe all right-minded people agree with me.  With me.  (I said it twice because I couldn’t decide which would communicate most effectively, bold or not bold).  Every day WordPress and other media still use language and material packaged together in a way that is relevant to me in constantly updated ways.  This creates a feeling of obligation and relationship which, I believe, is inappropriate to my actual situation, especially where nothing explicit, by way of committed communication, is ever entered into.  My neighbours know this too.  Hence the violence and harassment, even if it is inexcusable.  To have this kind of fluffy, feel-good, earnest or even comedic communication in the middle of a violent and undefined reality is not appropriate and not helpful.  It makes the problem worse.  Sometimes it isn’t comedic, sometimes I believe I know it is downright sinister.

So you are playing with my mind and reality.  Me, one individual who writes my blog.  The problem is, you do this in domestic and international politics as well, and your designated baddies know that, some of them are vulnerable and some of them are not, some of them have power and in their rage or confusion with this kind of communication can do catastrophic things.  I’ve written about Gadaffi before.  He is in the news at the moment.  I watched a film recommended by a friend, called Zeitgeist, which talked about the language used by the media and politicians around 9/11, and watching the news I’ve been observing the same thing here, at least with CNN, the channel I can get on my TV here.  It is an agreed, asserted view for presentation which is short of whole and little short of legitimised playground bullying and retaliation.  A club for fighting cats and dogs and gossip circles and sending to Coventry.  Ooh, nasty.  I have news broadcasts in mind.  We are all influenced against the love that we are by watching and listening to this.  Some of us are targeted to be influenced, as individuals and groups, and not just what we believe.

People say he is detached from reality.  I felt sorry for him, he looked confused.  Is he detached from reality?  He’s been made the baddy for years and years, and the media says he is detached from reality when he says all his people love him.  But I don’t believe that.  I believe all his people do love him, even if many of them oppose him.  I believe that love is the basis of all emotion and behaviour in every human being.  Most of us don’t understand that, we are not taught to.  The Bible says God is love and that we are made in His image.  Therefore love is also the foundation of our personalities, if not the whole of who we are (as it is for God, in whose image we are made), whether we realise it or not.  When that knowledge is undermined, not recognised about each other, or otherwise becomes emotionally and behaviourally perverted, that is the problem.  Yes, Gadaffi’s people all loved him.  Yes, they fought him (it is a psychological truism to say if you fight with someone you love them.  They have power with you somehow.  Somehow they matter to you.  All emotion, at root, is a manifestation of love, even if it manifests as guilty political manoeuvring and fear of loss of power and position or anything else, or of exposure.  Even if it manifests as anger or hatred or violence.  It is all a sign of our basic feeling and knowledge of connection).

I cried, a little, at what I saw on the television about Gadaffi last week.  I think presenting the news in that way, without the human angle and understanding and acknowledgment on the part of the controllers of communication of their own contribution to the awfulness, is in itself dangerous to society and inhuman.  It helps to make the poor despots what they are.  They are not playing for sympathy. They truly are worthy of our sympathy (they feel like we do, feelings which should not be put down as being out of touch with reality, and wrestle with issues as we do), and our own acknowledgment of how we have contributed to who they are, rather than helping them, through identification with them rather than setting ourselves apart or thinking ourselves better or wiser, to become something different.  Politics should be personal, right to the top and across nations and ideologies.  We need to be able to understand each other’s ideologies and converse and debate and argue with knowledge and respect.  We have to understand each other’s versions of reality so we don’t say someone has lost touch with reality when they don’t conform to our own idea of what reality is or should be.  The view that someone of a different culture and religion or ideology has lost touch with reality should never be put out through a news agency, even if only said in frustration.  It is my belief that this is often, if not always, just a manifestation of ignorance, of not knowing and not understanding, and not knowing how to set about finding out.  Or not caring, which, moralising as I sound here, must be worse.

Christian Life College, where I used to go, talked about two different sonship states.  One, we are sons of God by creation, and for some, we are sons of God by being born again.  That is how it was presented.

I would say that even if we believe in heaven and hell and that Christians go to heaven after death, we are all the children of God by creation at least, if that is what we believe, and if we believe that, we have to know that, on earth, we all have the same rights, whether we have the same religion or not, and an obligation to respect other people and make sure we recognise those rights in all our dealings with them. Including the right to intimacy and vulnerability, and openness and full disclosure, to expect it and to give it, both ways, in every relationship which involves power and authority.

The New Testament letters of the Bible, written to Christians, says honour all men (includes women and children), and that if you do not love your brother who you have seen, how can you love God who you have not seen?  We all share the creation sense of brotherhood.

So we need to be more open, when it comes to power and authority.  You choose your friends, but in your established authority and power relationships you have no choice, either party, unless the person in authority is able to lose and give up their authority and power and everything that goes with it.

That is far more than I wanted to say, but it is now said.  And that is why I for one don’t like my mind and conscience and emotions being played with by the removal of potentially sensitive posts, whether ostensibly for my protection, better criminal-catching, or any other reason, especially when the only direct communication I get from the same authorities is that which takes away from me.

100%, Consistent Love and Complementary Proteins

I left a comment on Tommy Boyd’s blog on Friday, about how the way people treat me sometimes makes me feel, emotionally, that I want to hit back.

At the time I left it, I was aware, listening back, that it seemed as if my comments were being tracked by the radio hosts I was listening to.  When it got to the time that I left that comment, the host who was on at that time said something sarcastically and derisively about unfailing love.

Apart from the obvious fact that it is God who is perfect love, and not me, I wasn’t aware he had access to my unpublished comments in the middle of me writing them anyway.  Well, I was, and have been for ages.   Unless it is a psychic thing, and I don’t think it is.  Sometimes, but probably rarely.

So it is stalking and harassment.  Hostage-taking and keeping, maybe.  And they love bomb you like a cult.

That kind of sarcasm, if it factored in something in Biology, for example, would be called an inhibitor or a limiting factor.  It is something I came across when I got interested in vegetarian food and was given a couple of books which went into detail about it.  Talking about available protein.

If I remember it right, proteins are made up of amino acids, the composition of which can be pictured as a star shape with unequal protrusions, the shorter ones limiting the availability, release and utilisation of the rest, and therefore the amount of available protein.  It was presented as a part of the idea of complementary protein, where, for instance, rice and beans complement each other and make more protein available when eaten together than is available if you add them up separately.  Wheat and milk is another one (that was vegetarianism, not veganism).  And there are others.  Some people say that is an outdated theory now, but the diet and nutrition industry being what it is, who knows?  I suppose if it was scientifically proved it must still stand.  It isn’t something which depends on individual metabolism, it is the protein available in combined foods, and that is testable in a laboratory (I think!) before the food enters the body.  Although thinking about it I am wondering how the necessary blending of the foodstuffs would take place apart from digestive breakdown, but that probably shows the limitation of my own knowledge due to inadequate study and experience.

But in relationships, I don’t want people behaving as inhibitors towards me in that way and thinking it is good or clever.  He went on to say something about ‘don’t cry, woman’, or something like that.  But by that time I wasn’t open to anything else which came from him, and I stopped listening.

PS – the WordPress system has just informed me that this is my 275th post and called me a dope.  Honestly!  “Dope!” – just like that.

Bulgaria

If the way these people have treated me is typical, they and their country should self-destruct, and I hope to see it in my lifetime.

All My Stalkers

All of my stalkers and blog readers are pawing over me affecting intimacy and the right to identify and instruct, and not one of them is making proper committed contact.  Is it any wonder I can’t cope with life?

I just got up.  I went to the toilet.  My upstairs neighbours started fluttering over me and expressing signs of distress – because I’m going to the toilet?  Next thing I know, I’m thinking about what I want to say about it on my blog and am trying to approach it kindly, when savage voice zhena (woman) cries out again, straight into my head.

This is constant, I need it to stop.  My eviction procedure has gone into its second stage and so far I have not felt able to touch it – because I just can’t think straight.  So I’m naming names.  Nick Clegg, you lovely boy, don’t just bang about on your podium, imitating, as you think, the banging from my neighbours (assuming that you have read my blog and that was what you were doing yesterday).  Do something!  I emailed you, and you didn’t reply.  Now DO something other than a dramatic presnentation in parliament.  Contact me properly.  Please.  If that is appropriate and not taking what is properly a legal issue and making it a party political issue.

And while I am on the subject of parliament, for the past two days it has been impossible to watch it live streamed on the internet.  What is going on?  I suppose I can safely assume that I am not important enough for it to have anything to do with me.

I’ve sent Joan Ruddock, my MP, all the emails connected with my eviction and asked for replies.  I have received none.  I did this at the beginning, over a month ago.  From something that was said, by her, I think, it appears she is on strike over me until she gets the gratitude she believes she is entitled to, as if I have to prove myself to her.  The first time I went to see her she wouldn’t let me talk and all but threw me out of her surgery.  She stood up to dismiss me in a way which made me feel that if I didn’t go, the next step would be calling the police.  I have mixed feelings about her, I think she has tried to be nice, and I’m really upset about this. 

I was thinking about how I wanted to word that last sentence to most accurately express my feelings and say what I wanted to say, when my neighbours upstairs banged, leaving me with so great a feeling of desperation and outrage and enormity I didn’t know what to do.  Whatever words I had, or connection with the feelings I wanted, they went, as always. I continue to assert it is their awful mix of hallelujahs and violence and personal invasiveness which is causing this.  I say this kind of constant occurence is the result of their witchcraft.  I’m terrified.  I feel raped in my soul.  I feel as if I can’t speak without speaking to them.  I am effectively their hostage.  Or am I just hostage to my resentment and fear of all the prejudice and discrimination I face here continually, because of the way I am dressed and the way I look?  Security people in supermarkets relax when they see me get my money out, and I think that is gross.  Where before they have marched me and commanded me as if I am beneath them.  But I get my money out and suddenly I am not.  I was in Sofia a few weeks ago.  I wanted to be taken to a hotel in a taxi, and several drivers rudely and aggressively refused.

Who are these censorious, murderous dogs controlling the Christianity board?

Display it, move it down and take it off, replace it when challenged so I look like an idiot, then take it off again.  No explanation.  Katie and the Forbidden Male Principle Post, published an hour and a half ago, is now nowhere to be found on this board.  Ignore, reposition, delete, treat as if dead or non-existent, except for electronic and psychological stalking – to a victim of serious church stalking and corruption, so serious it has landed her in a mental hospital.  It is satanic and demonic contempt of human life.  These people who run this board are not acting like responsible Christians, even if that is what they claim to be.