Terrorism and Surveillance ((Part 8))

As always, I’m hesitant to post anything, and this. I’m not sure why we all second guess ourselves so often. But it happens. Writing, then, and in turn, seems to be that which gets past all of the hesitancy. As I wrote the following, I was applying for jobs and making friends. This is a bit counter to the post itself. So, writing can then be said also to be that which causes enough reflection to make us hypocritical. Maybe sometimes. The post.

I am tired. Maybe even a bit worried. Because that’s the point. The intention is to keep me so tired and running that I can’t move on with my life. Certainly not with any semblance of normalcy, or quality of life. I look on to others now, doing normal things, and feel as though my rights have been taken away. I haven’t done anything for this to be the case, and so feel that the summation of my life lacks fairness, definitely these days.

I shouldn’t be treated this way. Either way:

I AM dealing with it, but NOT getting used to it. I don’t WANT to get used to it, to living this way, in a war with at least a team, all by myself. No thanks.

My point here, in this post, will be to outline how this “crap” is setting me back. In some ways, I’m probably giving my stalkers too much information about me, the kind of stuff I don’t want them to have. But, as I have told my therapist: if writing this stuff up saves even one person from dealing with anything similar, then all has been worthwhile.

The writing, not the stalking.

The stalking is shit. And will remain as such. Alright, let’s get to work.

Before doing so, let me say: I hope you, too, dear reader, hear this final phrase in the voice of Lawrence Tierney. You know, from Reservoir Dogs.

Applying for Jobs

So, I know I’m supposed to be applying for work. I know where to look and how to apply. But, seeing as I’m never left alone long enough to make any real progress to that effect, I’m not sure what to do. I could tell, as I left Colorado, that the derailing of my job search was/is part of this all. I had applied for two positions in November, literally right before leaving. Literally. So Millennial.

So what.

I had applied, to those two jobs, both of which felt well within reach; well within a response at least. I feel as though I should have heard something by now. I even called one of them recently, and nothing still. Radio silence. I have/had taken this to be a campaign against my gaining employment. It could just be that my “teaching docs” weren’t very good when I applied. It could be that they know me too well to hire me. I’m not sure what I mean by this, but my personality CAN take some getting used to. I am OK with this, and so have been many cool others. In some positions, I thrive. Quite a lot. I am the best of the team. In certain others, I am merely a member of the same.

As I write this here and now, I realize that I too am a bit responsible for any delays in my looking for work. I could be applying to something right now, instead of typing up this post. Of course, my plight is a hard one and so I find myself placing my energies wherever they will go, whenever they’re available. I slept all day yesterday. This should give you some indication of the energies resulting from the act of being stalked. It takes a lot of effort to be stalked, probably more than it takes to stalk, if I had to guess.

And guessing is about all I have left.

I don’t know why I have “made the list,” and why they’re actually treating me like I deserve to be there. I am not Snowden. I have done nothing to almost anyone. I should be able to apply, without being bombarded with damages to my things. I should be left alone, hiking, and enjoying my life.

But this is not what is going on.

What is going on is that I apply and it goes nowhere. Even my dissertation committee seems to lack any excitement in responding to me. This could be due to an issue in my email client, but maybe it isn’t. Maybe some of the people I know, and should know, have been instructed that I am not to be trusted, that I am being “investigated.” This is no investigation. It is torture. Nothing more, nowhere less.

Beyond those two jobs in November, I have applied to two more. Nothing there either. Maybe this is how academic hiring is these days. Maybe my teaching documents really ARE that bad. I thought they were good. There’s also the concept that I am applying for these positions rather late in the season for it. Either way, I have no choice. I did not choose to be vandalized, my privacy ripped open, and all for nothing. I did not sign ANYTHING for this.

If you ARE one of the employers I have submitted an application to AND you happen to see this, then please chime in to let me know:

THERE IS NO CONSPIRACY.

While you’re at it, feel free to let me know whether

CONSPIRACY THEORIES (DON’T) EXIST, IN GENERAL.

Whatever.

I had a radio station finally respond recently telling me just this, the other day. The first one, not the second. Still, I get the feeling that their response could have been instructed, if only to make me question everything, yet again. That’s one radio station down, several others to go. If this is NOT a smear campaign, then that would be nice. Nicer still would be if my vandals took to another hobby. And not one involving small damages all over my things.

MOVE ON, DEAR VANDALS; YOU CAN SUCK, BUT PLEASE SUCK ELSEWHERE

I’ve had enough suck for now, for life. I don’t want anymore suck. This sucks.

Mates and Girlfriends

As you can imagine, having to look over my shoulder all the time is not so good for my love life. It’s also lame for my friendships too. Still, I AM making friends, as I have always done. I am friendly, and approachable. But things are not the same anymore. I get a sense, now, that others are being told false things about me. Why do I feel this way? Well, my friendship arcs seem to be broken. They follow a much more negatively accelerated paths these days. And, like I’ve said before and elsewhere, it used to be that I would make friends with someone, as me, through ACTUAL conversation, and things would sour ONLY IF I actually did something wrong. Now, things are souring even when I do nothing at all, good or bad. It’s like they’re trailing after me to make sure that I have no support, not even a passing mate. Why are you doing this to me? Do you even know why?

I’d like to go back to having girlfriends and the fun that having them brings to my life. I used to take trips, make dinners, and kiss them up and down. I used to have a lot of fun with my girlfriends. Heck, some of my fondest moments and memories come from precisely these things. Lauren and I used to go to the beach, get lost, and then find ourselves again. We would eat subs and drink tea. It was all so normal. And relaxing.

Not now. These days I am ME AND ONLY ME. This too I did not sign. I never agreed to go so long without holding someone’s hand. And, no, I don’t want to hold the hands of some information-gathering intercept. I’ve had enough of that, which is to say: too little too much. None, here, is more than enough. I’d like to chat with a real woman about real things. I’d love to have the support, without being too much. Currently, my life is way too much.

I used to walk into a bar and leave with a friend, sometimes an ACTUAL MATE. I remember meeting Maria ##1 in this way; at an all-you-can-drink affair in South Tampa somewhere. Then, another Maria over some consulting; and a few Westerns that we weren’t really paying attention to anyways. The rain was too nice for all of that. I could list ALL of my girlfriends here and how easily I met them so, but I won’t do that. I don’t feel like it. I feel like relaxing, and in doing so, finding love, actually.

As my friend Bob once said, “You ain’t gonna find them out here.” He was, of course, right. As he gazed upon the craggy grass field about us, noting the miles between us and the nearest woman. Even then, things might not be so compatible.

I WANT things to be compatible, instead of questioning.

How is a Targeted Individual supposed to date? How are we supposed to spend ANY quality time with ANYONE? I have no clue. I am: CLUELESS.

Friends too. I want to go back to talking to my friends, to not being so alienated all the time. It has and had been years since I genuinely spent any length of quality time with any of my friends. Yes, we text, and send funny pictures and statements, but I don’t get the same sense anymore. I don’t feel the same. And that was BEFORE all of this, before Allan took to damaging my things. Why? Why have I allowed myself to live in this way? And why are they kicking me down when I am down? All due to me being smart, alienated, and homeless? Well that sucks, because those things suck anyway.

Now, it COULD just be that breaching 40 means living like this, mostly in solitude and largely without new acquaintances. I don’t know. It could just be that I’m so down from all of this that I don’t notice well relationships forming, and so do not form them well. How am I to make lasting friends with a man, or ANYONE, I believe to be an intercept? What about that beautiful blonde that’s obviously too young for me, but very much intriguing given her love for my music? I can see her when she walks by time and time again. I can feel her looking at me, and can sense her crush. To have her crush is better than being crushed.

She smiles at me, as I apologize for falsettoing in her face. She says it’s fine, as I falsetto again. She turns about, smiling, as if being falsettoed at was/is an enjoyable experience to begin with. Even when the singer in question is some 12 years older than her. This isn’t all about music and singing either. It’s about a man, who LOVES BEING IN LOVE, but never finds himself there. And, to the tune of it being much harder than before, it’s even harder now. I can feel it. The stream is so much harder to swim, and most of the fish, from left to right, have been spoken for. Is this turning 40? Is this a midlife crisis being energized to misery by more than a few soulless dicks?

Once again, I don’t know.

Hobbies. Music, and Art

Math. It’s a simple four-letter word. But, doing so can be anything but simple. For most, the barrier (to math) comes in the form of their brain not being matched for the task (at least not without tons of effort and work). For me, the issue is different. I can do the math, easily, but am devoid the mind-space. They don’t want me to do the things that I love. And so I don’t do math. Sans recently. Without being harassed, however, I can sit down and work on wild, theoretical ideas, without ever seeing a clock, without ever seeing any time pass by at all. It’s beautiful. The things I make are beautiful. Now they (maybe ACTUAL LIZARDS?) seek to add less beauty to the world. Imagine all of the progress they are deleting in chasing intellectuals down, hunting them, for things the constitution has never disallowed. Imagine nullifying the country itself through decay and indecency, illegitimately.

I shouldn’t be chased around all the time. I shouldn’t have to worry. I SHOULD be able to do the things I love to do. Hiking, biking, math, and music. I haven’t written a song to completion in quite some time, in months. All I have is bits and pieces, and to me, that’s not enough. I enjoy to smile when I ride my bike. They damage. No wit, the last time I rode my bike, some weeks ago, they got into my car and snagged up my clothes. All to intimidate me into NOT riding a bike. Why would ANYONE, soulless or otherwise, seek to take such enjoyment away from the life of another? Who could EVER be that psycho? I was happy before they started attacking me. I was motivated and living more progress than ever. Then, NO. Fun is not for you. Life neither.

LIFE IS NOT FOR YOU.

Now, I won’t go into any details on this one, but please allow me to say: they have also taken other things away from me too. I spent last Friday in a parking lot, instead of camping. Because: Sabotage. They NEEDED me to have less of a life that day, to have less fun. How pathetic are those that chase the good to make the world less than great? I’m sorry for being talented, for making wonderful things. No, I am not. I won’t say that with any semblance of honesty, ever. I am not sorry. I will never be sorry for such a thing.

What I will do is keep trying. This is hard, though, as I am being attacked, likely by my own country, or what was once my country. Definitely by psychos.

Now, lest you think this post has been nothing but complaining, victimization, and misery. Let me tell you here that I still smile. I still have my youthfulness. I’m still eccentric. If anything, I’m learning to be more like myself.

In a nutshell, I’m rejecting their purpose.

To wit, I think I’ll go apply for a job.

I might even make a friend.

And do some math.

Q.E.D.