KARBYTES_JOURNAL_2022_ENTRY_361


KARBYTES_JOURNAL_2022_ENTRY_361


12_NOVEMBER_2022: The following GitHub and Internet Archive links lead to some files which I uploaded today after copying those files from optical discs which I had stowed away in my room.

I was not able to make zip file uploads and downloads (and uploading each file one at a time to GitHub was very slow) while using my laptop at my dad’s house (using the Wi-Fi and my Anroid phone mobile data). I was able to upload one file at a time to GitHub slightly faster after walking up the hill about 50 meters from my house but saw that the zip file upload and download was very slow.

I noticed angry fat women standing on the side of the road on my way to my house. I think that Steve might have been hired by my dad to make sure that I cannot have a career in my dad’s house. I also noticed that my dad took the cymbals off the drum set and that his car was gone and that some other person’s car was parked in the driveway (and I think that is because today they are having band practice and/or trying to psychologically torture me by making me feel deprived of creative outlets).

I think that civilians and cops disapprove of me being so “self indulgent” and think that I need to put in a cage and deprived of happiness and free time because I apparently had “too much” of those things (and other people’s happiness depend on me being deprived of happiness). I think that people resent me for preferring to be alone instead of being more of a socialite and social conformist. Me minding my own business is apparently very offensive to others because it makes it look like those other people are not essential to my happiness (neither as companions nor as gatekeepers). I am nevertheless trying to avoid dealing with other people as much as possible because they mostly get in my way, slow me down, and sabotage my enjoyment of life.

(Other people are gathering me where I try to work to tell me to stop and go away. Meanwhile, people on the side walk (usually a woman, a man, and a dog) smirk and watch the show about “the war on Karlina”. I have been fighting to upload the same zip file multiple times from the area near my dad’s house. I literally might have to go to Dublin and use the Whole Food Wi-Fi because I am being censored up here so that I do not have a high standard of living and so that my time and energy is wasted for other people’s sadistic amusement and desire for retribution against me for what they perceive as “bad” behavior).

As I walked back to my house, a big red SUV with Hispanic guys followed me and turned around as if to make me feel oppressed, cornered, and intruded upon. That was after me saying while walking away that, if I could, I would commit genocide against their entire race because those people seem to be slowing me down the most and causing me the most unnecessary suffering out of any group of people. Then again, I could be wrong. It just seems like they are the most likely type of people to harass me in public and to act antagonistic towards me.

The dog next door has been barking as though it were an alarm going off because thoughts which do not support the status quo have been detected near the premises.

* * *

It is a little after 5PM. The sky looks overcast and the sun is already down. I was able to get the second GiHub repository and Internet Archive zip file upload complete by getting very close to the router in the living room. I want to nullify what I said about wanting to commit genocide. I would choose to kill myself so that many can live (because, if I do not, other people will say I deserve to be tortured and maybe murdered afterwards). I know I am a big “show off” and spend “too much time” “obsessing” over myself (according to my most ardent critics and saboteurs). If I am remembered for one thing by the humans, it will be how deeply self absorbed I am and how much I single-mindedly labored away on art projects which may or may not be of interest to people other than myself for my own gratification (and how I tried to be unabashedly self loving and self indulgent even though doing so seems to go against the social mandate that I deprive myself of solitary pleasures so that others feel less deprived and that I allocate more of my attention span to paying attention to other people and to not being so self aware; to neglect myself more so that I am not accused of neglecting whoever I am supposed to be serving and working to earn the approval of other than myself).

Let my story serve as a warning to other people if they think they can just do whatever they want to without getting punished and obstructed by other people. There do not seem to be very many humans who are able to get away with so much self indulgence and self publishing (open source) digital media onto the Internet (with the intent of being discoverable and accessible to the general public (i.e. to any person with an Internet connection and compatible hardware and software to access the digital media I have created and uploaded to the Internet (particularly to my WordPress websites, GitHub repositories, and Internet Archive library)).

I am scared of other people and believe they want to see me in pain and want me to suffer. I believe that many people want me locked up in a cage and unable to pursue my artistic endeavors (and whatever else I want to do which does not require that other people micromanage how I implement those endeavors). If other people cannot control what I do, they do not seem to want me doing it.

I understand I sound a bit like a pouty victim and someone who has a sense of being ostracized and persecuted by other people (and that I might come across as delusional for the things I have done and said). I figure that this is a phase I need to go through in order to get to the other side of a “dark patch” in consciousness. Perhaps that is not a very accurate description of what I am attempting to implement. Perhaps I should stop trying to explain myself so much and just do whatever it is I want to do. (It is hard for me to “shut up” when others keep talking at me and harassing me. I feel compelled to keep talking out loud and explaining myself because doing so seems like appropriate self advocacy instead of just letting other people interpret what I am doing and spin it in their own narrative. People are free to spin whatever narrative they want to about anything. (Maybe they are not free to do some or even all things. Maybe free will is an illusion if not intermittent. I think that humans do have “godlike” powers to generate original artistic visions and to physically manipulate their environments to make such visions come to fruition as more than just mental phenomena confined to their own imaginations but, also as relatively physical artifacts in their environment).

I am afraid that even if I do my best to conform to society and to speak “out of turn” as little as possible I will still be bullied by other people. Therefore, I think it is best to assume that I will be bullied by people no matter what I do. (I might spend most if not the rest of my life enduring horrific psychological torture (and other forms of torture) by people who want me to suffer and to feel unwelcome in human society, undeserving of happiness, and tortured into doing things which they want me to do for their sadistic and fetishist amusement). I will assume that humans generally regard me as someone to get beaten up on their behalf and for their amusement. Few humans seem to be interested in doing anything other than making their wait to die as comfortable for themselves as possible. They do not seem to want to promote a universal basic income for all people, the automation of as many jobs as possible, a radical switch to ecologically sustainable infrastructure, and other futuristic ideals I support and which most others seem to dismiss as impractical and unimportant.

* * *

I think that people hate me (or, the very least, dislike me) for appearing to be so self absorbed as a person. I am afraid that they do not want me to be happy unless I become a lot less self absorbed looking. Perhaps they want me to feel as deprived of personal space, comfort, and societal opportunities as a homeless person until and unless I rent my own place to live (and work a full time job in order to afford that change of address).

* * *

In case it is not obvious to whoever is looking at the files referenced by the GitHub and Internet Archive links on this web page, I think most of that content from over a decade ago is cringeworthy as fuck. I think I am orders of magnitude more talented and witty now (but I have not done much music recording lately because I have been too busy working on this website (and I think that is appropriate because I am able to communicate more salient information sans the cringe via the medium of HTML, CSS, and other “programming languages” (but especially using HTML and CSS)).

* * *

Some people seem to think that the following is the harshest “truth” I could admit: that even if I merely think that I am being mistreated, other people will use that as justification to mistreat me (which is an example of the old adage “Stop crying or else I will give you something to cry about”). Apparently, I am supposed to be terrorized into complaining as little as possible and to reframe what I have called mistreatment towards me by others as totally appropriate human behavior which I am “bad” or “irrational” for construing as anything but “good”. Perhaps those who insist on such a setup want me to feel placed in an “impossible to win” situation in which I cannot help but think dissenting thoughts and feel dissenting emotions while I am punished for enabling rather than preventing myself from thinking and feeling such dissent.

P: “Don’t bother treating Karlina as anything but an inmate and/or a crazy person who needs to be ignored, treated with callous disregard, lied to, and placed in uncomfortable circumstances in order to cure it of its narcissism. Until Karlina is reformed to what is deemed appropriate (or until/unless Karlina’s ostracization and imprisonment period ends), Karlina is to be ostracized and subject to harsher than normal treatment (because Karlina’s reputation is worse than most people’s reputation is (and Karlina has the reputation of a delinquent, repeat criminal, and conniving crook).”

R: “Well said, P. I will see to it that karbytes (I mean Karlina) is treated according to your suggestions.”

* * *

(Breaking the fourth wall, perhaps): I seem to be involved in a tricky battle for sanity in which I am trying to resolve “cognitive dissonance” related to me sleeping outside and feeling the need to rent a post office box and to wear a persecution complex out of self defense. I do not think I should just do what my mom seems to want (which is staying indoors at either her house or my dad’s house the vast majority of the time and to sleep indoors at those locations and to not rent a post office box). To make it harder for my situation to be construed as having my mail intercepted, I still strongly support the idea of me renting a post office box (and I have an appointment to do that within the next two weeks so that I can have my renewed driver’s license mailed there instead to the house where my dad or one of his minions might attempt to confiscate it for the sake of keeping me mired in a power struggle and feeling abused)).

I would love to move onto not feeling the need to keep reporting abuse committed against me by other people. It helps to eliminate things in my life which make it easy for me to be abused by other people. Rather than focus on censoring myself to not complain about other people’s conduct towards me, I think the path of least resistance is making myself as invulnerable and predator-like as possible. Either be prey or else be a predator seems to be one of the unspoken rules about how to survive in this society. A woman is generally regarded as prey unless she has an alpha male to be her protector and keeper. I am deliberately trying to masculize my appearance so that I am treated as a man instead of as a woman. (But a man without a woman to call his subordinate is treated as a rebel in need of reformation). My life seems to be about how to live as a single and childless person who is as empowered, intellectually independent, and able to optimize its use of resources as possible. (Many people probably say I am cheating by living with my parents rent free and relying on them for 100% of my financial income). I did put a donation link on the home page of my websites such that other people should be able to send me donations so that I can receive money from people other than my parents, but almost no one has sent me donations other than my mom. Perhaps that is part of my “punishment” and or “rehabilitation” to make me a better servant to society and not so self indulgent, pampered, and free to do my own thing. (I thought that getting a job would help me get more money to do my own thing, but my experiences of working over the past few years have suggested that I get a better deal just being a full time self taught student aspiring to become a software engineer while my parents support me to live relatively inexpensively). Unless my parents die, I do not think I have to worry about being forced into homelessness. Hence, I will try to stop worrying myself sick about such a thing and assume that I will not get any poorer than this for the rest of my life.

Perhaps I am too lazy to be a full-time software engineer and would be better off doing a part time job which would allow me to continue to live at least as cheaply as I currently do but with the power to save more money than I spend at a rate which is not ridiculously slow (according to me). Perhaps I will do “onsite” data entry work at some office in Oakland or Berkeley. Perhaps I will do mail sorting. Perhaps I will work in a cafe. Perhaps I will have to settle for full-time employment. I think the previous sentence is true. It is probably too late for me to work part-time (but maybe it is not). I think it is best to not worry about jobs for at least one more month so that I can focus on getting my mind “cleaned up” and organized (and my personal websites as ready for the new year as possible).

* * *

While uploading a zip file of photographs I took with a digital camera in February of 2007 (which was before I ever owned a smartphone), I enjoyed listening to a recording I made in the lost files in which I was playing some electric guitar jam late at night and my brother stopped by my bedroom to tell me to turn the volume down and he asked if I was recording that session and I said no. That was like being a fly on the wall observing a snippet of my life many years ago. I also got up to make start a pot of coffee in the kitchen. While I was doing that, I heard someone scratching at the cat scratching post and saw Brea sharpening her claws and stretching her ligaments for climbing and for catching prey. She walked up next to me and I gave her a plate of wet cat food and a bowl of fresh water. She wanted none of those things and was sitting with her back turned towards me; waiting for me to follow her lead. She lead me to the front door where I let her out. I stepped outside to check the weather. The sky had some cirrus clouds but was mostly clear with stars visible. The air was cold but not uncomfortably so (and I am wearing three jackets, basketball shorts, and running shoes with socks (because without socks is smelly, painful, and gross).

I was trying to read more audio file compact discs, but the data on those discs seems to have been rendered irretrievable (and I suspect that humans did that deliberately).

Even though there is no cymbals, I might as well just play the drums anyway. (I remember my dad having two sets of drums and one of those sets was in the living room but he took that one out and made it seem like he wants to prevent me from getting as much drum practice in as I think I deserve because he has two sets of symbols but decided to make his drumming about me not being able to drum at the same time. I’d be playing the drums without cymbals just to feel the rhythm and not to do those cool effects I was doing on the cymbals). I guess I need to save up for my own drums if I want to be able to drum without being impeded by jealousy mongering jerks. (If you wonder why I avoid family gatherings and have stopped giving people presents on holidays and birthdays, it largely because my family of origin have been inconsiderate towards me and seemingly even deliberately cruel towards me. I rather shamelessly exploit them economically and do not enjoy their company. (I might wait until my dad comes back to ask him to restore the drum set to full functionality so that I can use it tonight (and not worry about waking up the neighbors because it’s a Saturday night and I assume no one has to go to work tomorrow within hearing range of these drums (and even if they do, oh well. I have limits in terms of how much I am willing to put my life on hold so that other people can feel comfortable)))). I remember hearing my dad say as I was walking into the garage to play drums one night, “She doesn’t sound so good after this hour.”

The last two images included in this journal entry depicts a single anniversary card (from my four-year anniversary with SED).

(I just called my dad on the phone and he said he moved the drum set which used to be in the living room up to his band mates’ house in Colfax because it is easier to leave it there than to keep having to take it apart and reassemble it. He said he was about five minutes away and that I could play the drums with the cymbals when he gets here with them. I told him I made some coffee. He said that sounds great. Meanwhile, Steve has been chilling in his room playing the guitar. Brea is in the garage and my dad is pulling up the driveway in his car and Brea is going out there to greet him. Well, forget all that stuff I said about people being mean to me on purpose. I hope this is all just to make things better for everyone. Let’s try to have a nice rest of the weekend, shall we? Okee dokee. I’ll do my best. Let’s just keep it cool and fun and keep putting out good vibes only (or at least fake that we are)).


“Ancient” Files Backup # 0


GitHub_repository_release_zip_file_(GitHub): https://github.com/karlinarayberinger/merced_manure_sound_files_karlina_beringer_2008_to_2009/releases/tag/merced_manure_sound_files_karlina_beringer_2008_to_2009

GitHub_repository_release_zip_file_(Archive): https://archive.org/details/merced_manure_sound_files_karlina_beringer_2008_to_2009-merced_manure_sound_file_202211


“Ancient” Files Backup # 1


GitHub_repository_release_zip_file_(GitHub): https://archive.org/details/the_lost_files_karlina_beringer-the_lost_files_karlina_beringer

GitHub_repository_release_zip_file_(Archive): https://github.com/karlinarayberinger/the_lost_files_karlina_beringer/releases/tag/the_lost_files_karlina_beringer


“Ancient” Files Backup # 2


GitHub_repository_release_zip_file_(GitHub): https://github.com/karlinarayberinger/photographs_2007_by_karlina_beringer/releases/tag/photographs_2007_by_karlina_beringer

GitHub_repository_release_zip_file_(Archive): https://archive.org/details/photographs_2007_by_karlina_beringer-photographs_2007_by_karlina_beringer


“Ancient” Files Backup # 3


GitHub_repository_release_zip_file_(GitHub): https://github.com/karlinarayberinger/korrupt_el_mundo_2009_to_2010_karl_beringer/releases/tag/korrupt_el_mundo_2009_to_2010_karl_beringer

GitHub_repository_release_zip_file_(Archive): https://archive.org/details/korrupt_el_mundo_2009_to_2010_karl_beringer-korrupt_el_mundo_2009_to_2010_karl_beringer


“Ancient” Files Backup # 4


GitHub_repository_release_zip_file_(GitHub): https://github.com/karlinarayberinger/karbytes_beginner_bytes_computer_science_2010_to_2015/releases/tag/karbytes_beginner_bytes_computer_science_2010_to_2015

GitHub_repository_release_zip_file_(Archive): https://archive.org/details/karbytes_beginner_bytes_computer_science_2010_to_2015-karbytes_beginner_bytes_co


* * *

Deliberate Break

* * *


image_link: https://github.com/karlinarayberinger/KARBYTES_JOURNAL_2022_PART_16C/blob/main/front_of_anniversary_card_from_SED_2012.jpg


image_link: https://github.com/karlinarayberinger/KARBYTES_JOURNAL_2022_PART_16C/blob/main/front_of_anniversary_card_from_SED_2012.jpg



image_link: https://github.com/karlinarayberinger/KARBYTES_JOURNAL_2022_PART_16C/blob/main/inside_of_anniversary_card_from_SED_2012.jpg



14_NOVEMBER_2022: On 14_NOVEMBER_2022, I was able to copy audio files off of some compact discs which I was unable to extract files from a few days ago (but I figured out how to today). The audio files are in a GitHub repository named korrupt_el_mundo_2009_to_2010_karl_beringer (and there is a corresponding Internet Archive zip file) because that is the name of the music album which those audio files were originally a part of back in 2009 and 2010. Those audio tracks are evidence of my voice going through “puberty” after starting testosterone injections for the first time. (I stopped taking the testosterone in 2010 at SED’s insistence but have started the testosterone injections again this year less than two weeks ago). (While I was transcribing those files, the bullying voices from law enforcement kept making whimpering, whispering, sniveling, anxiety inducing sounds and saying demoralizing things to me such as, “You have nothing to do but play with your mouth,” and, “Are you almost done,” and, “You’re only allowed to be depressed”. The voice which is making those harassing sounds at me sounds babyish, shrill, demure, high pitched, small mouthed. “She” seems to be mad at me for not being more of an indentured servant, social conformist, and homebody. “She” seems to disapprove of me not sleeping indoors and for not working full-time making as much money as she thinks I should (and I think she might be working for AJP in order to force me to pay him money as ransom for him essentially holding my hostage by forcing me to be harassed by those voices from “law enforcement” (and those voices might be from sources other than the United States of America’s government and, instead, people AJP met overseas or else in this country and hired to stalk and harass me)). It could be that those voices are from American law enforcement and that they are trying to torture me into thinking and acting more supportive of those who I have criticized. I currently think that the most likely explanation for those voices is that they are from local law enforcement and they are trying to discourage and punish me for wanting to be a man instead of a woman (because the source of those voices is politically conservative and opposed to transgendered and gender nonconformist people existing. They seem to think that boys and men are supposed to be super macho while girls and women are supposed to be super feminine. Honestly, I have been getting many conflicting messages from that source (and the source and messages vary seemingly as a function of where I am located, what I am doing, and what I am thinking about. Perhaps those voices are just trying to keep me “on hold” and bogged down with filibuster “conversation” topics designed to keep me from doing what I would otherwise do and what law enforcement does not want me getting into))).

 

The Internet at my dad’s house is painfully slow. Hence, I’m going to go walk over to my mom’s house to use the Internet at her house because it is faster over there. (One last thing: I think that the voices I am hearing from law enforcement have forced me to become a faster talker who enunciates its words faster than I used to (and the recordings of my old voice show how sloppy I was with speaking). Today I sound like a different person. Not to brag, but I sound like I could be a radio announcer or a commercial voiceover and I am much quicker to come up with witty and articulate replies than I used to. In other words, I have been trained to become rather skilled at improvisation).

Great news! While digging around in boxes of old stuff in my room, I found my old Lelo vibrator and charger! Now I can have intense orgasms at the touch of a button (clitorally, vaginally, and even anally)! It’s a pink relatively straight phallus which is velvety smooth and which has a variety of different vibration settings. (I was able to have a quick and intense orgasm with almost zero effort using that vibrator tonight. Having that device definitely upgrades my standard of living).

In addition to getting the korrupt_el_mundo_2009_to_2010_karl_beringer files uploaded to the Internet and linked to this website, I plan to do the same for some videos I made over a decade ago about computer science and other “random” topics which are still available on YouTube.

* * *

On a rather depressing note as I walk past the ranger’s station south of Lake Chabot, I have been yelled at by that voice which has been described as a “baby faced male” and it has been telling me to stop moving and “Bye Karlina” in a snarky tone and I heard it say twice that “the wedding is off” and that it’s just now starting to want to stop treating me like a second class citizen. I have a dread-filled suspicion that the “baby faced male” is AJP or someone AJP hired to do AJP’s bidding and that if I contact him even once I will get punished. I am trying my best to just “ghost” him in the hopes that he will eventually leave me alone. (Perhaps this is him retaliating against me for insisting to be involved in his life for longer than he wanted and as punishment for “getting too close” and the punishment he wanted inflicted against me is the long term and inescapable experience of being raped, tortured, and prevented from being able to focus on my own life). It feels like he is trying to prevent me from enjoying a single inhale or exhale. I can also see a cartoonish “baby faced male” talking in a high pitched and angry voice and smiling and looking angry while literally climbing down my throat and behind my eyes to “pull strings” back there. He is also whisper yelling insults and taunts which feels like being breathed onto and inside of.

* * *

I have had an experience similar to what I described while on even higher doses of shrooms. (Right now I also hear the buzzing “zzzzz” sound which sounds like an angry man and quick jab-like scolding phrases from “baby faced male” such as “nope” and “sssshtawwwwwwp” which sounds like a poisonous snake inside me trying to constrict me to the point that I am paralyzed from the agony of being tortured by those cartoon characters who just want to silence and incapacitate and terrorize me and keep me on hold). What is particularly depressing about dealing with those cartoon bullies is that they seem psychopathic (sadistic and lacking in compassion for me) and less conscious than most humans (as though they are some kind of robot designed to mimic some human behavior but not human enough to feel like a real human to human interaction (such that law enforcement (or whoever) is intentionally trying to deprive me of a real sense of human connection because they force me to interact with and be harassed by sub-human bullies)).

I think many humans are aware that I am going through what I describe but those people are siding with my tormentors and are refusing to tell me that this is the case so that I can only interact with them while they deny they know that this is going on and such that I am coerced into acting like their subordinate. I get the sense that many women are treating me like an unruly spoiled minor to be given the cold shoulder, condescended to, demoralized, and deprived of happiness.

* * *

I wanted to be clear that the “baby faced male” sounds like a female (and she most resembles the description in journal entry # 41 of the Karbytes Journal 2022 section of this website). I think that “she” is either AJP or else a human and/or an AI impersonating AI speaking in a high pitched voice in a snarky and oppressive fashion. That voice seems designed to deprive me of thoughts which would bring me comfort. It seems that it is designed to make be feel punished for wanting to be as self loving and self absorbed as I really want to be.

* * *

Without exaggeration, I am, by far, the kindest human presence I have ever known. What’s in my imagination seems more beautiful that what exists outside it. Most other people seem like impatient, unfriendly, territorial, violent, controlling apes compared to me. I have a very good reason to want to keep to myself. I doubt very many humans meet my standards of what it means to be what I consider to be a good friend of mine.

* * *

As I approach Chabot Road while descending the road which connects the ranger station to the main roads, I admit that I am scared of my mom and have felt that, for my entire life, she is more like an angry, traumatized dog than a human because she acts like a robot more than a human (and I have felt deprived of a human mom for what seems to be most of my life). Perhaps I take after her: the neurology of a human who is actually very emotionally cold and conniving but who can sure make it seem like it has human emotions. Then again, maybe that’s how all humans really are: pretending to be emotionally warm but are really just putting up a humane facade to hide how cold and calculating and unsentimental they really are (perhaps even from themselves).

* * *

Okay, one last blurb to append to this journal entry…I feel that I am squeezing out all of my secrets onto the World Wide Web such that I will eventually have nothing left to squeeze out (i.e. no more secrets left to hide). I am afraid that, once I become that “hollowed out” and infiltrated by other human intelligences outside my own (nervous system or, more accurately, the “software” which that nervous system hosts), I will be seized by those outsiders and rendered their puppet; someone who can hardly move or speak voluntarily. I’m not very worried that will happen, but I am very worried that my overall experience of life will get progressively worse over time (even though I am trying my best to enforce the opposite trend (including by trying to convince myself (and hence effect a self fulfilling prophecy) that my overall experience of life will only get progressively better as I age)).

* * *

Okay, one last paragraph: I think that the more intelligent a person is, the more humane that person tends to be. It seems like there is some kind of covert “zombie apocalypse” occurring in which many people are being assimilated into emulating that “baby faced male” and hence implicitly promoting a norm that people are only lukewarm kind at best and only kind to their familiars. I have always wanted to break away from such a trend (whether that trend is actually occurring or merely imagining it is) and be a philosopher loner who feels a kinship with wild animals and humans who are similarly “tuned into nature” (and such humans tend to be less judgmental, controlling, impatient, and mean than what seems to be normal and promoted by law enforcement and other “spin doctors” who use bullying and fear mongering tactics to enforce social conformity to the callous, apathetic, urbanized, and tribalistic zombie apocalypse cult I described in this paragraph). I hope that all humans are liberated from that misery mongering prison and able to evolve to become more genuinely respectful, caring, aware, and open minded.

* * *

I felt the need to add this one last blurb: as I was walking up my mom’s driveway, I noticed that my dad’s car (which is a big imposing SUV) is parked in front of my mom’s garage instead of “my” car (and he used to always park in front of “my” car such that it was blocked in and I had to beg him to move out of the way if I wanted to use it). I was dismayed to see him sitting in his car smoking a cigarette (and since Steve has been away for several days and nights in a row, my dad has been smoking cigarettes more than ever in his house such that I cannot help but conclude that my dad is trying to terrorize me into being homeless and deprived of a good career path). I hear voices which sound like him taunting me in creepy ways especially at night and near my old house. My life feels nightmarish and punitive against me while I suffer alone while other people act impatient and angry at me like I am in a society where people just want to put me away in some kind of jail or mental hospital or hostage situation so that I am effectively removed from society. I have the dread-filled suspicion that my dad is waiting with great anticipation and white-knuckle determination to see me have a devastating nervous breakdown and never recover such that I stay mostly bedridden, socially isolated, and senile and dementia ridden before my time. These are not the most flattering things to say about the people in my life but it is how I really feel.

* * *

I just finished talking to my parents “in person” in my mom’s room. It was not the most pleasant conversation ever, but I thought it was necessary. Both of my parents seem to think I “hear voices” as a result of being mentally ill and that I should see a mental health professional. My mom says that I look like a homeless person and that is why people do not want to hire me. I told her that I thought I should try to get a job in the information technology industry and that I have not had a good job since I was a programmer at Lawrence Berkeley Lab. My mom said that I was not a programmer. I told her I was because a lot of my job as an intern there was programming. (I am afraid that my mom does not really think I am a programmer and that I should instead settle for being a “basic bitch”). That last sentence seems to be at the core of why I do not seem to really be on good terms with my parents. (I talked to my dad a little more outside when my mom said she did not want to talk anymore and my dad said he never wanted to prevent me from being able to be a programmer or a geek. I thought he was being quite sincere. I want to believe that he is not opposed to me having a career in the information technology sector. I think my parents (mom especially) has a hard time thinking of me as a programmer or information technology professional because they have been accustomed to thinking of me as a mentally ill person who can hardly take care of basic responsibilities). It is hard living in a situation where I am the only person who I am currently in regularly communication with who seems to see me as perfectly mentally healthy who is definitely a geek who has been isolated from other geeks for too long. Perhaps the most important idea in this entire Karbytes Journal 2022 section of this website is that I need to do something I genuinely love and not just to make money (and what I genuinely love is information technology and metaphysics because both of those academic disciplines support my greatest mission in life: to as closely as possible attain omniscience, omnipotence, and omnipresence (and that involves being able to reconstruct and to preserve realities in verbatim communicable formats (especially as software which can be verbatim represented across multiple machines as sequences of binary digits))). What I live to do more than anything is to use psychedelics, to study the subjects which I think are relevant as deeply as possible, and to create, publish, and preserve a palace made of web pages and computer code as my greatest legacy and artistic contribution to humanity (and whatever humanity evolves into and whatever may exist in parallel with humanity which is at least as intelligent as humanity).

I am sitting in my old room at my old house as I update this web page close to midnight. The voices from law enforcement are caustic, condescending, and emotionally invalidating. I crave the companionship (or, more accurately, the fellowship) of science, technology, and philosophy geeks. I think we would have much higher quality conversations than what law enforcement personnel seem to facilitate. I think that law enforcement tends to enforce that people default to thinking and behaving like “basic bitches” who are, in my opinion, not very smart, interesting, kind, brave, or fun.

I hear the coyotes howling in the distance through the window of my old bedroom. I also heard a short siren sound from a police car (which may have set off the coyotes).

* * *

I am happy to see that Casey the cat was hiding in my closet and has come out to greet me and is licking herself on the chair next to me. I am also happy to see that my mom sent me $40 via PayPal. I called her on the phone to ask her to make that transfer but just as I did I saw the email message pop up in my Gmail inbox which said that she sent the $40. I will try not to waste any money for now on. Also in my inbox was a promotion for a new book written by Paul Austen about microdosing psychedelics (and the e-book is currently available for $1 on Amazon). I looked at the free sample introduction and read some interesting history about psychedelics. I might as well buy that book because it seems well written and informative and relevant to my goals in life.

* * *

15_NOVEMBER_2022: It is approximately 5AM on 15_NOVEMBER_2022 and I have been up all night (and do not plan to sleep for at least a few more hours) backing up YouTube videos to GitHub. I am still at my mom’s house and I have been hanging out inside my childhood bedroom. I noticed that my dad’s car is still parked in the driveway. I guess no one wants to go back to my dad’s house tonight! (I do think this side of Castro Valley is less depressing than the other side because there is more room to sprawl out on this side, a view of the San Francisco Bay Area, and less of a feeling of being “boxed in”. The other side of Castro Valley reminds me of being stranded in (relatively homogeneous) suburbs while this side does not feel so cut off from open spaces).

* * *

My next task today is to back up the current version of Karlina Object dot WordPress dot Com (before I refine it more).


This web page was last updated on 15_NOVEMBER_2022. The content displayed on this web page is licensed as PUBLIC_DOMAIN intellectual property.