I have had a whole day of obsessing as to what the perp's next plans for me, in part fuelled by the eviction stunt (for real), the three way confluence of the "clinical" sources last week, and latterly, that my mother who gave me over to these sickos at birth (IMHO), was "unavailible" (out of town) just when I wanted to sort the financial picture with her tonight (07-16-2006). And she rarely travels by herself, so in the least, it was a in-my-face excuse.
The last time there was something comparable was when I left Seattle, and the INS wouldn't let me back into the US to clean out my apartment. I "had" (read, perp plan) to get someone else to pack, and my parents to fly in and oversee the movers who took everything to storage (also arranged by phone, no mean feat). Then when I found a place here, I had to get a "colleague' (read, perp planted co-worker I didn't know who was involved in this) to drive a truck down and pick it all up and then help me move into the new place. In other words, the perps fully intended to separate me and my belongings and have other people "help" in releocation. What they got out of that piece of venality I don't know, as all the planning for this was a serious pain never mind the INS Border Patrol pulling their guns on me to give me a piece of paper I could of had for the asking.
Now that I will be moving onto the next location, known to me as Torture Pit #8; that will be 8 places in 4.25 years of this intense harassment, as well as some 15 in 20 years of being married before that. I can be quite sure that the perps have me mind-controlled to get antsy and want to move me anytime they want. And they do this to other TI's as well. And the perturbing aspect is that "I" (or perps planting the notion) is put the "clinical" hints together with the forced relocation (eviction) and that spells long term (> 2 months) hospital stay. They had me in for 5 months last time and I suspect they didn't get a whole lot accomplished, even with all the "patients" being gangstalking operatives. (This I know, as I saw the man with the mega-gut have straps under his shirt to hold it onto him, another one who could'nt walk well, just happened to be stepping out once and then resumed his cripple walk act, (possibly a purposeful stunt), and another who was on the phone, saying it was not a "secured line").
Only when they cooked me with more irradiation in 2003 did they get some action in more mind-control results, and they also gave me three more debilitating head pain rounds, though not as bad as those for 9 months in 2002. And I am still cooking, as I have mentioned before, the hallways have a plasmic fog, and if you were to look at me, I have a vibratory nature to my appearance. And they have cooked most places in Victoria as well, as this color vibrancy can be detected anywhere if one stops and studies something. No wonder a number of the swim team members got out of town in 2003, when I came back to swim. Only a month into swimming and I was "informed" that the team were all shilling or hired by the perps. (All those year long absences back east were not for what they said).
Call all of the above "rational paranoia", and it is not a clinical condition in the least. One thing I know for sure, they always have a plan to the last detail, even to where I look at any given second, especially if they have someone planted as a momentary diversion, a common occurence.
And the perps like me to obsess over their planted ideas; either to be totally wrong (often an objective) or else a dress rehearsal whereby they have me mentally walk through their intentions so to be able to control the outcome better by dithering any of the thoughts that do not conform. They do this a lot, subverting intention by first playing the situation in my mind some weeks in advance.
And even if I "save" rent by being in hospital for them, where next? There is too much incertainty. Another recent trick was planting the notion of getting a local call center job; I looked it up, and then the perps blocked the on-line application form (twice). As in, "don't bother". The last time I attempted to put a resume together they dithered me so much that it couldn't be finished. Another "don't bother" as I read it (or was made to understand).
Enough nattering and waxing over major uncertainty.
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