KARBYTES_JOURNAL_2022_ENTRY_350
To make a long story short, I learned tonight that I’m better protected from the rain in a tent than I am attempting to sleep without a tent anywhere in Castro Valley (and I left my tent folded up inside of its case at the “Turkey Tree” in Dublin). I’m writing this note now on my Android phone while huddled underneath my sleeping bag (which is wet from the rain and which I hear the continuous thud of large drippings of rain water falling onto it as I lay in that doorway on the ground floor of that Lutheran church while the ground I am on is soaked in rainwater). I have been laying here for several hours in shock over the kinds of noises I have been forced to listen to against my will from law enforcement and from thinking about how fucked up my notions of human existence really are. It really does seem that things get worse over time and that my hard work is punished rather than rewarded and that I deal with people who are more sadistic and inconsiderate towards me than are benevolent and considerate. I still have yet to gather my steel-toed work shoes and large orange poncho which are locked inside the car at my mom’s house. It’s about 4:30AM now and the rain has been falling heavily for hours nonstop. I’ll just hike up to my dad’s house first, drop off my stuff in my room there, hike to my mom’s (and attempt to get the key to the car without waking my mom), take my belongings out of that car, put the car key back in the key cabinet in my mom’s house, hike back to my dad’s house to drop off my shoes in my room, dry my clothes in the dryer, and then head back out into the elements and wait until 11AM to go to my appointment at the UPS store to rent a post office box. I am not comfortable spending more than an hour at a time inside my dad’s house because the cigarette smoke inside that house is rampant. I am not comfortable spending more than twenty minutes at a time in my mom’s house because she seems to have no life outside of trying to trap me with her to be her torture victim.
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I am at my dad’s house now in the garage typing up this note (and I intend to add more text to this note after I retrieve my stuff from the other side of Castro Valley). The “voices” I hear constantly in this house sounds like my dad whispering, snickering, and breathing heavily in an anticipatory and sadistic way. I think that is law enforcment trying to impersonate my dad’s voice so that I feel deterred from spending time at this house so that I am forced to spend as much time as possible loitering outdoors and where other people can more easily track my whereabouts and demeanor (for their pleasure and security of course). The world seems to favor those who drive big gasoline guzzling cars and who shun introversion and intellectual rigor. (I have said this many times before but both the Wi-Fi Internet and the Internet hotspot I attempt to set up with my Android phone at my dad’s place is very unreliable and slow and my phone often shows zero bars in terms of connectivity. I think that I am being prevented from being able to be a full-time student (or even a part-time student) and from working remotely (for the comfort and sadistic pleasure of people who rejoice in me being deprived)).
Perhaps I am being punished by law enforcement for thinking unflattering thoughts about women and for not enabling women to be submissive, underachieving, complacent, and stationary domestic servants who are practically raped into being self-sacrificial for the benefit of chauvinist dictators whom society seems to revolve around serving first and foremost.
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I just got back from jogging most of the way to my old house (i.e. my mom’s house (i.e. the house which was my legal address from 1992 to 2016)) without a backpack on and without my phone (just my wallet) to retrieve my old tattered backpack containing the steel-toed work shoes which Tesla issued to me in 2020 when I was onboarding to become an employee at the Fremont factory and the large orange poncho which is sufficiently large to cover both my body and the backpack I would be wearing.
While walking back to my current legal address (i.e. my dad’s house), I was thinking that one advantage to being employed full-time as a warehouse employee doing regular shifts is having some structure to my routine which will make it easier for me to fit more of a personal study, sports, and arts routine into my life than being unemployed. I figured that I would get the same amount of personal goal-oriented stuff done if I have a job than if I do not because personal goal-oriented tasks (which is contrasted from employer-assigned tasks) tend to take up the maximum amount of “free time” which I have available to spend (or exist inside of). I thought a good shorthand term for that tendency to use up all my free-time (and the implied incentive to cram as much tasks into my life as I can stand to) is “osmosis”.
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If I knew with a sufficient degree of certainty that either one of my parents (and perhaps other persons) was trying to interfere with my career aspirations and lifestyle goals, I would sentence those persons to be swiftly murdered if I knew that I would be allowed to carry on with my life as though their death was treated by the government as an accident (i.e. the product of “natural causes”).
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