A Puling Post in Two Parts

7:52am; Another day has dawned, the first voice sounds before I’m even out of bed.

This little “gem” here is in 2 parts:

1. Were there ever good times?
2. I was a target before all the shit hit the fan

I.  A long time ago, there were good times, very few of them, but I used to remember being alive, not dead.  I used to laugh, I used to joke.  I used to have clothes in bright colors.  I wanted to stand out and not disappear.  I’d laugh loudly in public to attract hopefully (male) attention.  I never got much.

  • I used to have fun at family/holiday dinners like Passover, Thanksgiving, the Sabbath, and most times that Grandma was invited to eat with us at home.
  • We used to go on hikes when I was younger.  Hikes seemed to bring out the best in my irritable and critical parents.  All that fresh air?
  • Saturday morning was sort of fun since Mother could not cook so we had to go out to 7-11 for coffee and to bring bagels back to the house for breakfast.
  • When I was living in the group home I had a friend who brought a small coffeepot with her and we would share coffee every morning together.  She turned on me when targetting began.  She had a sad story but the last time I saw her was the bus and she was perping me.  At the end of our “friendship” she invited me to go rollerskating with some of her friends and stood me up without explanation.
  • Bingo volunteering with Grandma.  We’d work in a stinky smoky room on the bad side of town but the proceeds helped out her charity.  We’d sell these little scratch ticket thingies called “pickles” out of a bucket during breaks in the action.  I forgot if they had cash prizes.
  • Late nights after dates or after going to a bar to dance or even a party–at coffee-shops.  I had a boyfriend.  All the rest of the people were his friends,  of which he made it abundantly clear when we broke up.  He went on and on how they hated me.  But, at the time, it was fun going in a large group sitting in a coffeehouse and being rowdy.  How soon those times would end.
  • Sitting outside at night with family.  At home on our patio, at my grandma’s patio at her house then her little bitty patio at her apartment where she’d still plant her tomatoes and petunias.  I’d look at the stars, we’d all chat.  For some reason my family would want to go in pretty fast when we sat outside at home.  We’d sit for hours outside in summer on my grandma’s old patio which was called a “breezeway”.
  • Going out the New Year’s Eve before I became a target and getting drunk.  Very drunk.  Being sick the next day but still going to the local arcade/bowling alley center we had here.
  • Shopping trips with Mother or Grandma before the perps ruined it
  • Sitting on a porch while this man I met at a 12-step group played guitar.  There was a small group of us that sort of ran around..about 4 of us.  I went around with them every Friday.  We’d go to a meeting then go somewhere for coffee or something else.   We’d go to this one man’s apt then he moved to an apt in a house and we got to use the porch to hang out on.  Grandma always made me call her once each time I was out 🙂
  • Long walks in the park by myself in fantasyland.  ( I was already getting perped but I’d crank up the music) and walk 4 miles then go out and get the most decadent dessert I could.
  • Day trips with my friend where she’d let ME drive.  The freedom of the road was very healing after being cooped up in a small apartment and using the perp filled bus all the time.
  • Collecting and pressing flowers more recently for my little job that the perps messed up.
  • Enjoying books on long summer days at the park a few years ago before the perps imposed a 50 page a day limit on how much novel reading I got to do a day.  I imposed a limit on myself to only read Christian Novels and now I’m sorry.  I still have missed many great classics and great new books I’ll never read unless I can get free of that vow.
  • Getting saved at my first church and being really involved at the church–at first–then the pastor and his wife went away and the other guy who became the pastor I only saw on Sundays.  I have a bitter memory of those times as well.  The time spent involved at the church as a new Christian was fun before THAT was taken away as well.
  • Even fantasizing helped even though I’m not supposed to do it as it’s an affront to God.

The idea of “diminishing returns” comes to mind:  as the years went on any “fun” time I had got ruined by the perps more and more.  Soon, even special Birthday dinners were served by perp waiters and waitresses.  I could no longer shop at the mall as they were filled with perps waiting for me.  As the years have gone on I spent more time alone or only with my friend at home or on walks.  Going in public has become awful.  For one year, the perps “forbade” me to eat in restaurants and told me to eat takeout or 7-11 because I was a “dog” and did not need to eat in restaurants.

I never went to Prom or any other fancy dress event except my sister’s wedding.  I was perped there as well.  I was miserable and paranoid.

Has anyone ever read the Joyce Carol Oates story “Thanksgiving”.  It’s about a family going through a gruesome time in what seems to be a nuked out town and in the end the daughter and her father are driving back from the gruesome town to their home and either dad or daughter says “oh hell” and then you know they are in hell and probably all died together.  You never knew they were in Hell.  It’s like targetting.  You look around one day and realize you are living in Hell and life has ceased.  It might have been gradual, a slow stepping down, but here you are and there you were a few years ago. It keeps getting worse, too.  I once posted on my old blog that I thought I was dead and no one told me.  I wondered if I had died in a plane crash in 1987 and was now in the outer rings of Hell for eternity.  She also did a story on the devil, FYI called Arnold Friend about how a “nice” affable guy seduces a teenage girl and she finds out he is the devil.  I miss her writing even though it was out there and touched on taboo subjects.  Glad there are many good Christian Novels out there that are fun to read and not preachy.

II.  I was a target before all the shit hit the fan.

Once upon a time, long before all the shootings, Columbine, 9/11, Waco, OK City, Ruby Ridge, the Movie Theatre Shooting, Sandy Hook, and Boston I was being oppressed by the targetting system.

In 1987, there was still a cold war, Reagan in office, no internet, no cell phones, but “car” phones that you could tell by the twirly antennae on the back window.  People in the US, for the most part, were happy and free, everything is relative.  You could go where you wanted, do what you wanted.  No cameras all over.  NO gun check to get a gun.  Real blue skies not obscured by the ugly milky chemtrail clouds that keep in the sun but don’t bring rain.  Maybe they brought all the snow, or, did SOMEONE explode a nuke somewhere and the fallout is causing a mini nuclear winter?  (my kind of questions upset people).  It’s late April and it’s February.  One snowstorm after another.  What happened to “global warming”, Gore???  Nothing is green, all is bare, and the little that came out is frozen and dead.

My targetting started in 1987 long before most other targets who noticed theirs usually after 9/11 especially after 2003.  When they started it on me it was GRADUAL back then:  they had LOTS of time to play me.  Like a cat playing with a mouse.  I’d get to run awhile and then the cat would show up again.  They did not take away my family right away.  It was the early 90’s before I really discovered my life was fucked up beyond repair.  I ran to church to get saved hoping God would run in and deliver me.  Guess it does not work out that way.

Back then the evil that is now was lurking, it hid in the dark where it belonged…not out on the streets creating mayhem.

While you were free, I already was targetted.  Before people had the Internet and Alex Jones, David Icke and doom and gloom ministries…(give us your money and we’ll sell you GOLD.  Now, give us your GOLD and we’ll sell you freeze dried FOOD.)  HAHAHAHAH.  After the price of Gold went up so much.  Someone is making lots and lots of money.  A nasty wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Back in 1987 the sun shone on Saturday Morning, America was the Greatest Country on Earth, Russia was the Evil Empire and China was Untouchable.  Watergate was a bugbear of the past.  There were REAL Christians then, who acted like Christians.  The last few visits to church I’ve had I have found nests of perps.  Still, I was already being held back, held DOWN.  I had a suspicion others in my life were being held down as well but had no idea why including members of my family.

Back in 1987 music was fun and lighthearted unless you liked metal like me.  Even some of the metal was fun..the “hair bands” were party bands but I always had to have the real heavy serious stuff.  There was hope everywhere.  America was the land of hope, of second chances, third chances.  I had hope for the future, at first.  It was slowly taken from me as the years went on.  By the time I applied for benefits in 1999 I knew there was no hope for me to work.  My hope was taken from me like a slowly growing cancer (or slugglish schizophrenia in Soviet Russia???) that starts so small it’s unnoticed–a few cells.  When I finally confronted the fact I was a ti in 2005, it was Stage III.  Now it’s terminal.  I have no hope, no joy, no life, no love to give.  It has all been burned out of me.

Even if it all ended tomorrow, I’ve seen and experienced the ugliness too long.  I’ve changed–I’m darker–the light can’t reach me even when I try to reach for it.  Now the Bible is a book full of dark warnings against sinners, not the book of Hope I was told it was.  Even in the New Testament.

I have had this long running fantasy that I’m put into time as the person I became without targetting and all the tragedies personal and national I’ve suffered.  I still keep the dark memories of this “other time’  It’s like parallel universes. I”m imposed on MYSELF.  It’s like the US if 9/11 and all that other crap didn’t happen.  I’m put into the body MY BODY of a lighthearted slightly weird but fun friend and family member who becomes dark and angry and distant as me and my dark memories overshadow the “light” version of me.

Am I able to shake off the darkness?  Do I alienate the people around me?  Hopefully, I’d try and compartmentalize the memories and live on, wiser but not too nasty to be around.  Oh, it would never work, though, my head would always be over my shoulder looking for early signs of targetting.

In another fantasy, I “walk in” to a person’s body who is about to die but I live there.  I take my memories with me.  The person I “take over” is so very sick and disturbed (end stages of eating disorder and drug addiction, cutting et al) even I am an improvement to their mental state.  Only weirder.  I think I have Asperger’s.  I go on to live life in the same parallel universe mentioned earlier–sans 9/11 and all the other crap  since 1987–weirding out my “new” family but eventually making friends and getting employment.  I still look over my shoulder and keep quiet on matters of politics etc.  Finally, I leave the country for good to work as a missionary.  I get married in the field and have children and only return to the US for visits.  Would I be happy?  Would the Day of the Lord be set back?  In the parallel universe the baddies are having a harder time getting their act together.  Fantasies are all vain imaginations…according to God.  Dreams can be good if they are constructive I guess.  Sometimes reality is too hard to take and I still catch myself fantasizing.

Back in 1987, I had fantasies all the time, but I also thought I’d have a future in real life, somehow, even after the hospital and all the running away crap.  When the perps showed up, I only had a year of college left.  My grades were up, my weight was down, and I guess the jealous little psychopaths could not allow me to live my life.

P.S.  People are saying those Russian brothers (Chechnyan?) didn’t do the Boston Marathon bombing.  If these brothers did not do it, why were they at the event with backpacks?  Lets say for a moment they didn’t do it.  The news agencies say the brothers were “radicalized” by the Syrian version of Islam.  Is this little event gonna justify a NEW war, this time with Syria?

Were they there on orders by the FBI (since they worked for them) and then the bombs went off but not by them and they were picked up?  Sounds unlikely, but what about the photos of Navy Seals.  Americans killing Americans to start another war because we need constantly to be at war to distract the people from issues at home?  Maybe like it was in 1984?


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