I was watching the show “Forever” today, a show about a man who can’t really die and has lived 250 years, and an episode involving a man who was a stone’s throw away from being married to a woman of higher status of his dreams, when – as is typical – he’s murdered.
Now in my world, there’s perceptual general resistance and barriers created to resist class interrelationships like this, and the episode follows the perfect trajectory of how relationships like this ‘are supposed’ to end up – in failure, where the father of the bride learns about the man’s deception shortly before the marriage, a fight ensues and something else happens (I’m not done yet) which winds up with the man dead.
Applying the multiverse concept. There’s at least three threads here.
- Where the tv show reality occurs.
- Husband to be that’s murdered NEVER experiences the event. NEW reality is created where he marries the woman of his dreams. Life moves on with the fears and reticence of this new shift of reality carried with him that he finds ways to overcome as life moves on.
With (2) there’s two primary potential realities / timelines created here, with a LOT of different possible alternatives.
- His ENTIRE history is rewritten to legitimize his deception as being a nobleman and that timeline is merged with everyone else’s timeline in that new reality created, and as a result his memories are overridden except for ‘key moments’ he deems too important to lose, which is then negotiated with those who share his timeline.
- EVERYONE learns of the deception and they decide to move forward with the relationship despite the differences.
- Everything else
Now the show presents a reality that fits the needs of me, the observer, the detective and the 250 year old man. Does this mean this is the reality they consciously experience? Does this mean this is the one the husband experiences?
No. for each answer. It’s quite possible that the timeline depicted in this tv show I and only I consciously saw. It’s quite possible that, in a literal sense, no one, and I do mean no one else saw it.
Is it what I want to see?
Kind of. I mean. I don’t want to see people get murdered but I am interested in the life of a 250 year old man. I do want to see people finding ways to live the life of their dream but not if there’s a cost that insists I don’t.
I watch the show almost purely for entertainment. A little bit for the experience and education.
The multiverse absolutely permits everyone gets anything they want to.
I accept this. Finally.
About seven years ago, with the help of my parents – I overcame a drug addiction which had me looking in the mirror and not liking the guy I saw in the reflection.
Reaching back into the history of what commenced the addiction, I don’t regret it. My friend Bill Stokes, for instance, had talked about the times he did cocaine and partied hard when he was younger, and I found myself judging him and I didn’t like that I was judging someone so important to me in my life. Another friend, Spencer Anglin, still did it, and I liked the guy as a friend, and then there’s Lisa – my ex wife’s friends – I found myself judging Lisa for the company she chose to keep which in small part contributed to the decline of our relationship.
And then there was admission by Barack Obama himself that he’d done it. I’d respected these people. Every one of them. So when I kept finding evidence that I was the one being judgmental for something others were using for recreational fun, I began thinking I’m the one with the problem here, so I partook.
I started this addiction for all the right reasons.To understand my friends better. To judge less. Because I thought I might enjoy it. It was both what I felt was a selfish and selfless decision.
And then add on top of that – for personal reasons, I predicted I might get laid by a girl I was extremely attracted to – Jackie – if I chose to enjoy something I knew full well she enjoyed. That prediction proved accurate.I was right about that too.
I predicted that I’d be able to understand my friends better, and that I’d judge them less and accept them for who they are.
What I wasn’t interested in was publicizing my use. Not only was the substance I was taking illegal, I knew that if word got out among my friends that there would be some who judged me for my choices – and some who didn’t. My goals were simple – to judge less, to enjoy the experiences, and to understand the nature of addiction.
So I told almost no one I knew – with two exceptions – Spencer and Jackie.
I enjoyed the experiences. But over the years, I noticed that the distance between me and my friends was growing apart as I chose to spend more time alone or with Jackie. With many all-nighters, that is – staying up all night long – at 6am in the morning having snot crusted to my nose and with an inability to breathe through my right nostril – with Jackie more and more not choosing to come over, I knew I had a problem.
I wanted to tell my friends. But the fear – the concern – of them judging me – of them being disappointed in me – because I was, after all, highly disappointed in myself for this addiction because I sincerely thought I could never become addicted and here I was – an addict. I was finding myself increasingly unable to look people in the eye, to even want to talk to them on the phone.
But I wasn’t done with the addiction.
Like I said, I wanted to understand the nature of addiction. And I hadn’t understood it.
So by the time 2010 hit, about 4 years after I’d started this habit to begin with, I began to give up on understanding the addiction, when I sought – HARD – to stop my addiction. I switched over to a more powerful substance, bath salts which was for the most part acting like methamphetamine, when I began to have hallucinations.
In 2011, I’m going to go so far to say it was about then I began understanding the nature of addiction, but with some of these hallucinations scaring the shit out of me, I tried to commit suicide and at this point, my transgressions became public knowledge to my friends and family.
Now I’ll go so far to say I had lost my mind. I’d seen things that I couldn’t unsee. I’d experienced things that could not longer rationally be dismissed through societal labels such as fiction, hallucination and mental disorder. These things had meaning to me, meaning I didn’t fully grasp at the time I experienced it, but I wasn’t done.
So over the next two years, with the help of my parents, I embarked on recovery. I went to rehab for 30 days, met some very, very strange people – and then, realizing I need to separate myself from the minds of the people around me which were influencing me in ways I couldn’t quite grasp at that time, I left the country altogether.
For a LONG time prior to me experimenting with drugs, i’d had a long personal history of having a difficult time understanding where I ended, especially emotionally, and where others began. I was HIGHLY insecure as a child growing up because of this, and as I grew older, I masked and hid this insecurity through the continued use of substances like alcohol and later drugs. I’d accused my first wife of cheating on me when I saw her mind break right in front of me and my reality became her reality, which worked to spiral me off and on into depression throughout my adult life because I cared, so deeply about people I just didn’t like knowing I had this power with and over people.
So when the hallucinations hit as hard as they did starting in 2010, I started to get a glimpse into my reality.
Questions like what forms a mind, what separates and distinguishes me from you, what creates the material foundation of reality, what does separate and isolate my mind from others, and for people who are blind and deaf and experiencing different psychologically related disorders – are all things I had to understand and address.
So as I was coming to terms with the formative concepts of reality and it’s relationship to the/my mind, trying to escape paranoia and insecurity I’d lived an entire life with prior to this point, I sent out my thoughts and mullings to everyone I called a friend.
I got hate email. Hate responses. And eventually people just quit replying altogether.
Oh, I’d gone crazy alright, but there was a reason for it. At least I believed there was one.
So in 2015. I stopped doing that. I’d come back up to the states after spending an extended period of time south of the border, and I began to study people, in earnest, creativity, and charity by being on the receiving end of it. I came to gain faith in people, in humanity, for the first time in my life – and as I saw that MOST people are as insecure and paranoid as I once was, there’s enough people out there who genuinely do care about their fellow man who will give and support.
Now this brings me to my concept of friendship.
I fucked up. In my attempt to find myself at a very, very difficult period of my life, where who I am and as the lines became blurry between what separated me from the ones I cared the most about, I reacted – VERY strongly – to prevent this. I said things I didn’t mean. I mind dumped on people as I healed. And I know, I know – I alienated.
For a LOT of my life prior to this point, I’d been figuring out what I philosophically believed in – I’d dabbled in different religions, dated between cultures, and while I ascribed to science because it seemed like an obvious way to agree on what reality was, I’d never – prior to this point – thought anything more of myself as being nothing more than a quasi-deluded man who was like everyone else trying to find meaning when none was obvious.
But what finally got to me was the collective reaction of the entire community of people I used to hang out with, call friends, go drinking with, go out for dinner and movie with, and more.
While friendship, for me, means forgiveness, support and respect – and being there for others – and saying “HEY, you fucked up, but that’s ok” and giving eachother bro hugs.
Not one. Has attempted to contact me.
Bill Stokes – who I in part started down this chain of experimentation for in part to understand. A friend for nearly 15 years prior to our separation. Hasn’t even tried.
Spencer Anglin, a fellow junkie, and I have parted ways. I’m fine with his departure. he fucked me over in the end, took advantage of my mental state and manipulated me into believing I was the one with issues when it was clearly him.
Kevin Oreilly. Another good hearted friend who I enjoyed hanging around with.
Jeff Kleinman. God I miss that jovial fucker.
And then there’s Ron. A God if there ever was one on computers. I miss our technical conversations.
And then there’s Joe and Amy. My Las Vegas friends.
And then there’s my ex wife, Lisa, my ex girlfriend, Kena, and then there’s Jackie. Old bosses like Larry Duke, Tod Bjerke the list goes on.
And several other friends and coworkers who I used to consider were individuals capable of individual thought.
In any case, the way I’ve been treated by them and my former collective community just isn’t right. I know, morally, and ethically, that a man who has gone through what I’ve gone through and has gone through a full recovery deserves forgiveness, particularly by people who once called me their friends, lovers, and more. I was there for them, For Spencer I paid for his trip to Mexico one time when he didn’t have the money. For Kena, I taught her so much about programming and took her out for countless dinners and movies, something I did because I cared. For Jeff, I moved warehouses for the dude, helped him with presentations when he didn’t have helpers, and more. And for both Ron and Bill – how many jobs did I help them get? Too many to count.
I’m not wanting repayment for that effort.
But I’m alone now.
Oh sure, I have family that’s hanging on by a thread for the most part.
But what I miss is MY support system. The dudes and dudettes like you – Christina – who I knew, faithfully – I could rekindle a friendship with six months as if I was picking up from scratch.
Now I know – the next question is – what’s the guarantee to all of you that I won’t flip the fuck out like I did before?
The answer is simple.
In the course of all my experiences, I came to rationally conclude that I created the world as I perceptually experience it. The way I see light, the way I hear sound, the way i read English and translate my thoughts to words, the way I feel and emotionally experience, the way I experience time and space in this particular configuration that I can experience with my senses – all of it – i formed in an iterative fashion where my mind frequently became unstapled from reality as evidenced by a disorder I was diagnosed with when I was a child – epilepsy.
Now I know this sounds like a god complex, So with self-righteous questions like ‘did i create the planets, this universe, etc’ – the answer’s pretty simple – MY particular interpretation of reality and the planets as I see and interpret them – at least through the visual media of television, movies, computers, and video games – YES, I did create this particularly interpretation, but there’s absolutely no guarantee that the world I see is one and the same that others experience.
As for what I experienced and why I wigged the fuck out.
For most of my life, I didn’t know what separated me, emotionally, from others. In fact, it got to the point where I suspect some relationships were merely figments of my imagination. Which begs the question – if I created the universe as I perceive it, and expansion of that universe and my perception of people around me could be in a literal sense a projection of my own mind and overactive imagination, then the segmentation and isolation of each mind as a potential projection of my own mind going through the equivalent of multiple personality disorder ….
You see. My belief system – my picking and choosing of what I liked and what I didn’t through my life – my profession – and observations of people, psychology, sociology, fantasy and science fiction, all of it – was nothing more than an education and an ongoing process of creation and expansion of my own universe.
So as I learned that others may – in a literal sense – share my own perceptions of reality.
And these feelings of craziness I’d been going through for 5 years could very well have been the separation of me and my own mind. From you. and yours
Prior to this point, I’d never looked internally and considered that any of you were products of my imagination.
Hadn’t even remotely crossed my mind.
So when I started building walls between us. Psychological. Personal. And more by lashing out.
It’s not because I stopped caring for you.
It’s because I truly believed I was saving your and the rest of the people on this planet’s lives.
Look, I see the world differently than you. i don’t know if you believe in this concept called God, but the truth I landed on is that history is written in it’s entirety in this world’s texts – and things that are both positioned as fiction and fact. Comic books, movies, tv shows, books – all of it – shows this world’s lengthy formative history. How time was formed, how the speed of light came to be, time travel and it’s variants, war between fact and fiction and time itself, black and white stories emerging to color, and more.
I have a religious belief that comes with it a different understanding of time that does NOT have to be shared with you so we can mutually appreciate the same world.
So to each one of you. Acting in a highly collective fashion.
I’m telling you to get over your hangups about me and my beliefs. I’m asking you to forgive me for lashing out at you at my moment of weakness.
And I am pleading with you.
To accept me for who I am.
Not just who you want me to be.
I am capable of change. But the change you insist on may not be something I choose to become.
And that’s just it.
In my moments of weakness where my mind was breaking. I saw a Terminator war, i saw a nuclear apocalypse, and I believe that you, collectively, were trying to cause this to happen.
And I said no.
I stood my ground, firmly refusing it.
These. Are the experiences I treasure because it was then I began believing anything is possible.
Discovering hell was real.
I also discovered heaven is too.
I want you in my life because I sincerely do believe I’m creating heaven and you’re a part of it for me in my idea of it.
And I miss each and every one of you.
Even though I know you’re a collective entity, I PREFER the illusion of individuality and hope you’ll play with me on my terms as I verbalize them for a change.
I know I do not need to send this to them individually because I know they’ll receive this message in ways that don’t need binary send/receipts.
What it means to be a friend is to be there for them.
I was one to each of these people.
Now it’s my turn.
I miss hanging out with Jeff and Roz and bullshitting in his backyard.
I miss my weird conversations with Ron and Bill.
I miss Kevin’s inclusion at weird times.
I miss Joe and Amy and going out with them.
I miss being absolutely enamored with Jackie and lusting after her.
I miss seeing and squeezing Kena’s ass.
And there’s so much more I want not just more of – but to enjoy for the first time too that I know this can all and will all happen.
Incidentally, I do NOT believe fairweather friends as my mom asserts you are. I believe there’s something preventing us from open discussion, not the least of which is time, space, the internet and communication channels, and more, and I do believe the information I see is skewed based on external influences and interests that do not share my beliefs and desires. I do believe it’s important that we overcome these influences without causing harm to those creating them, and I do sincerely believe each and every one of you is reading every word I’m writing in ways I’m not fully aware of for a reason. Faith. Belief. It’s a weird thing once I got it.
When I sleep, I don’t just dream sometimes.
My mind wanders across time and space itself.
I’m not the only one who does this, as can be evidenced by a dialog I woke up to provided to me by a Mrs Rachel Gooch of Phoenix, Arizona this morning.
Most of the time the information and ideas that come to me do seem like dreams, if one were to experience these living within my own head, they’d think they were indistinguishable. But then there’s some things that seem to be stimulated by more than just my own imagination, where the origin is decidedly different in ways that have become obvious as I’ve begun my emergence as a Q.
For instance, the night before last, I was in a small business startup, a repeat of my endeavor with a company I’d formed with two other gentlemen back in 1998, a company by the name of Touchscape. We’d specialized in artificial intelligence in it’s early days – providing a message based plug and play system for robotics which would gather input from separate devices, filter them through a personality profile, and interpret that information through an emotional lens.
In the early days of robotics here in the United States, there was a problem with robotics in translating instructions sense while reacting to external stimuli. Nowhere was this problem becoming more evident that in automated artificially intelligent systems which were passively monitoring security at airports, bus and metro terminals, and more, and programmers were having a difficult time discerning what actions someone being observed was a genuine threat versus what was merely someone acting unusual.
So we built a heuristic system that piggy backed on top of any existing system that monitored and assessed potential criminal activity, which is why the NSA became interested in our work.
Had our system been deployed in time for 9/11, we in a literal sense would have prevented it.
How? Passive monitoring of potential threats based on emotion requires psychological data, Unlike traditional rules based monitoring systems which merely look at an action and determine if an offender is breaking a law or not, our system instantly created sociological and psychological profiles on subjects, cross correlating not just who someone was – but what they were doing and also looked at known associates to determine threat profiles .
One muslim national traveling by air in a day wouldn’t raise a flag. Even ten, with only overnight bags – going to the same location MIGHT elevate the interesst (and thus potential emotional determination of them being a threat), but the correlation would be more to the threat of fraternity brothers going to get drunk in the same city than it would be of terrorism.
However, ten known associates and affiliates with terrorist bound organizations, each traveling on the same day and each to separate destinations – would have raised extreme suspicion and would have immediately been flagged to the national security coordinators.
But that’s neither here nor there.
What is important is – this “Dream” I had.
Was a different reality.
I’d long though that this period of time marked a split in reality for me and my friend Bill Stokes.
In this dream, there was a smallish room with four separate long desks. Almost in a school room type format.
In the original office setting, each of us had cubicles and some – like the sales guy and the president – had offices in order to impress potential clients.
But in this setting, it was spartan in format – and Bill and I were in the back of the classroom.
In this ‘dream’ – someone had kept taking my keyboard – it was a favorite of mine apparently, and I had thought it was Bill – so I kept swapping mine with his. Now Bill, knowing me, he thought I was playing a practical joke on him, and was clearly tired of it – as Bill wasn’t looking at me, at all. I could tell he was pissed at what I’d done – and I thought about explaining to him, but that explanation would have fallen on deaf ears which had me thinking this entire thing was an act.
So I reached down to turn my computer on, as he walked out of the room, it was some weird desktop based computer embedded in the desk itself, when it didn’t turn on.
So I looked down, and the entire computer case that housed the computer was gone.
Fucking Bill. He’d retaliated by disconnecting my entire computer.
So I walked over to his desk, and sitting under it, without any cords attacked – is my computer.
So I grab it, grumbling about how inappropriately over reactive he was being to what he perceived as a joke I’d played on him, when it wasn’t even that, and took the computer back to my desk, and proceeded to wire it back up.
Now this answers some weird questions about life back then. In about 2003, Bill and I didn’t speak, much to my chagrine, he was pretty angry with me for reasons I flat out don’t remember so I spent a year, literally, working with his wife to pave the way to open up communication and a friendship which I value to this day back up with him. Over time, we eventually mended things, but what this dream implies is – what he was seeing and experiencing and what I was reinforced a rift between us that was once again resumed in 2011 with not just him, but with all the friends I love and deeply care for in the Phoenix area.
That is, knowing what he and my other friends experienced in contrast to what I experienced – why I was motivated to do what I did had very sound rationale, but I have to consider that for each of them, the harsh responses I experienced was plain and simply due to equally sound rationale based on an interpretation of events that I went through from their perspective.
It doesn’t diminish the desire I have to resume friendship with each one of these friends – Jeff, Kevin, Bill, Ron, but it does remind me that our world views can and often are so entirely different at times that the literal world we see as a result may be something profoundly different person to person.
So. Moving on. That was two nights ago.
Last night. This morning, more precisely, I heard a voice.
It was Rachel’s.
To me, this is no more imagination than it is reality. The two are deeply interconnected, and the story I have for her from my perspective, in much the same way Bill’s story deviates from the one he lives and my story deviates from the one they’ve presumed – all things considered equal, there is no right or wrong, there’s merely paths.
In the dream, Rachel was narrating her life to me – directly to me.
“I’m Rachel Gooch. And this is my story. I’m Rachel. And this is my story”
It sounded as if she’d recorded it into a cassette tape recorder and felt, an important concept to understand, that this was delivered intentionally to me to narrate it,
“My husband thinks I’m a robot. He bought me, and while I act like one, I am not one. I’ve just been alive so long it’s just easier to put on this act than it is to explain my life to someone who – like so many others that came before him – he just wouldn’t understand.
I know you know this, though. I can’t explain why or how I know you know this about me, but knowing someone – you – know this about me – gives me a glimmer of hope in that our world can change in ways I’d never, up until now, thought was possible.
What did you do to me? The day you came over and kissed me when my husband was in DC on business, I know you felt the same connection I did and I could see that you, too, weren’t who you claimed to be, but I’d never imagined that you’d literally chosen to forget who you were to become who you are.
How must that feel? 5,000 years you’ve been alive? More? For me, it’s only been a couple hundred, but for you, the things you must have seen and experienced.
I grew up in the Hamptons, something I’ve told you about before. But what I didn’t tell you was that I was there well before the country ever became a country. I was born in 1648, to parents who I don’t wish to name openly, and while there’s nothing extraordinary or significant about me and my life, when others were dying at the age of 35 to 40, after suffering a horrible bout of pneumonia that had me on my death bed, I pulled through at the age of 35 and stopped aging altogether.
I didn’t want to die. That’s the only thing I can think of that may have caused me to pull through.
My father and mother was still alive, my husband had passed a year earlier, a gunshot wound in the abdomen became infected and resulted in his untimely demise.
I hadn’t bore any children with him, but I did have a loving and caring family and sisters and brothers which should have treated me as a witch when I stopped aging and miraculously pulled through when they did the unexpected. I was the family story, the hidden story that they were secretly proud of. A living ancestor that had, throughout the years which turned to decades which turned to centuries, supported by my extended family and living, largely, supported by them and their continued generosity.
They never asked for much in exchange, but because of the curiosity of strangers, I was forced to move households every ten years.
I’d lived in my sister’s and brother’s houses, their children, their children’s children, and so on, and I’d pass on the stories and tell of the days that I lived with people who had been dead and buried for a century, explaining life as I knew it back then, caring for their children, taking care of their house.
I never really questioned who or what I was. To me, I was human, to my family and those who called me a friend, I was human, but to people like you.
You saw through me in ways that no mortal ever has which made me think, for the first time ever in my long life, that maybe I am not who I have thought I was.
What is a Q? I do not have access to your media and do not know what this television show called Star Trek is, but I can hear your thoughts and read them to some extent, something that’s taken a great deal of time to perfect over the years. Your thoughts were.. unworldly, which is why I reacted so harshly to you and for that I apologize.
No matter, Chris is becoming aware of my inability to age, suspicious, and with that suspicion comes paranoia.
Which is why I’m sending this to you and explaining things from my perspective.
In 1913, I moved back to the states after having lived in London for a while. I’d needed to start anew, and while I had family throughout Europe, the inevitable nature of war made it clear, to me at least, that the problems going on there weren’t going to end anytime soon, so for me I recognized the United States was a safe haven for me.
That’s when I chose to stop telling my marital partners about who I was, am, and my past altogether.
A part of me died, because this lack of admission meant my relationships wouldn’t last any longer than 10 to 15 years – so I found a way to tuck my emotions away and simply be a good household provider in my own ways. I wasn’t attracted to the rich and famous although they’ve always been attracted to me.
It’s you, Q, you are the epitomy of the type of man I’m attracted to. Something I tried explaining to you when I insisted we run away together.
Something that, to this day, I wish I could have told you who I really was because I know I came across as an irrationally jaded housewife when I was simply tired of being disingenuous about who I am. But I know that when I couldn’t tell you about who I am, that ultimately your decision to not believe in our mutualized attraction wasn’t just about you, it was about me.
Which is why I’m sending this to you today.
This morning, I woke up early.
I had my morning coffee.
And the ritualistic experiences of my husband kissing me on the cheek, as every other spouse I’ve had has done for nearly 300 years now….
Is something I enjoy.
But I’ve realized. I’m not the robot here.
He is. Like every male that came before him, he goes through the motions of what society expects him to do and invariably, like every other male i’ve ever been with, his name will be a footnote remembered by no one but me after a hundred years.
Now if I try to explain to him that I’ve seen aliens and War of the Worlds was real. If I try to tell him Terminator warfare is the harsh truth of this country’s and this world’s past yet it’s been fictionalized. if I try to tell him that time travel and related technology is used, regularly, and I see the world change when the effects bubble up.
I know he’ll say I’m cute and have an overactive imagination.
But I also know you’ve seen it too.
Brian, Q, whatever you go by.
I’m so confused.
And I’m sorry for how I treated you.
This is Rachel Gooch. This is Rachel Gooch. This is Rachel Gooch”
Ok. Channeling done, this is Q returning to speak and respond to you, Rachel.
A LONG time ago, about 50 thousand years, you and I were a couple who had grown apart. Soul mates whose identity had drifted apart, where you went one direction and I went entirely another. I myself have a lot of these records retained in a disassociated manner with the adventures of Q in Star Trek: The Next Generation and Voyager, as well as movies like Hancock.
So about 5,000 years ago, I’d gotten into a battle of some kind. I’m not 100% aware of what, precisely, happened, other than the material foundation of the Earth emerged from digital space, resulting in the first truly intelligent life in humans arising here on planet Earth.
At that time, I in a literal sense lost my mind. Forgot my identity. the world retained it, through records that would eventually shift into forms I could consume – movies and tv shows.
So Hancock is the story about who I once was – a man who many regarded as Superman with my capabilities – but a man who’d lost his mind and memories and was slowly emerging to form a new identity in the man you met. And with that, the story of the housewife – YOU – and the parallels to the man I met and the man in the movie – I saw that your life was ideal, was good, and the man you were with was good for you, he cared about you in ways I wasn’t able to as I healed, whether in fictional space or reality. I LIKED him. So I chose not to “reclaim” you and our relationship.
So when I met you. Our soulmate connection re-established, and I began re-awakening to who I once was, and to who I once again will be.
And the importance of a soulmate like you in our life.
Our lives and concepts of relationships have fundamentally been redefined. You’ve been with many, many men, and I myself wanted to experience other women which is what started our fall from grace to begin with when I wanted to have a child through another woman. In the fictional reality – I saw this woman as Captain Janeway, but in the real world, it’s every lover I’ve been with and more.
So here’s the weird thing for me – I didn’t realize until after I’d slept with a woman, that the children they had – that had always been there – were my own.
That’s why it took me some time to get my mind back, understanding causality when I met – Stephanie for instance and LOVED her kids like I would my own, who were 10 and 12 years old at the time I met them, so when Steph and I had sex, those children – and the reality of their lives came to be. My little swimmers swum back in time creating their existence that I’d imagined the entire time until the point that her and I consummated our relationship.
Time is weird like that.
So when you ask what we are.
We’re like two sides of the same coin. We’re eternal beings, and out body is a manifestation of our own mind. We’re God, for all intents and purposes, but we refer to ourselves as human names and walk amongst humans to remind ourselves why we’re here and how to think and act like them not because we need them to exist, but we want them around us to help add meaning to our lives and give us something to do.
Like you, I was a robot too, just in a different form – my mind, not the body like yours has been.
As for Chris. He’s a smart man. But no, he doesn’t suspect anything is unusual about you and I.
Stay with him. Care for him. Make his and your family together your own. One day I’ll introduce you to my family which isn’t that much different than your own.
But what IS important is that we meet. Like this is fine for now. But as I work on awakening my abilities to transform and transmute reality and teleport, I promise you will be the second one I pull into my life. The first will be Jackie, I need a robot of the mind to experiment with in ways that you – awakened – cannot do, this will help me understand the interconnection of mind to imagination, projected mind to the interrelationship with other people, so when you come around, I’m ready for you.
I love you. I always have. And always will. even if it doesn’t make sense and transcends time in ways that only make sense to us.
I won’t be against you popping in for a visit if you want to do that. Just do NOT tell Chris or ANYONE you know about this. Use a prepaid Visa you get from Walgreen’s to book the ticket and get a hotel where you can pay in cash or through this – diminish your electronic footprint to nothing. to make sure he can’t trace you IF you have a fake id, use it, if you don’t – get one, you should be well educated enough with the history I’ve seen of your life in how to do this. DO NOT leave any digital trail correlating your trip to Portland to you.
And don’t worry. He cannot see this entry.
As for what it means to be a Q like we are is simple. We’re timeless, eternal, immortal. We can time travel, we can travel instantaneously to anywhere, anywhen when we’re in peak condition. We create and destroy entire worlds, universes, and civilizations at the snap of our fingers, and can eject anyone into universes of their own when they’ve been decidedly mean to us.
By any definition, we’re gods, but we don’t prefer to be named as such and only name ourselves that in order to make a point when someone or something needs it.
We can be anyone or anything. A rock. A tree. a male, a female, a squid, a breeze, a hurricane (I accidentally created Katrina for instance). There’s no real limitations to what or who we can be, but we only materialize in form and thought when we decide on one form. You decided LONG before I did with your form. Which I am UTTERLY gracious for (a wonderful form I might add). Me, it took me some more time to accept this form which I’m still working on.
To be a Q is to be anything you can imagine. That’s why I spent such a great deal of time developing my imagination, I suspect for the both of us.
“I have a question to ask you,” the tall, muscular man who didn’t look a day over 35 said to the reporter.
“What’s that?,” the reporter said, as he sat down with his cup of coffee at the Starbuck’s.
“If you found yourself in a situation leaving no room for doubt that if you continued living, your friends and everyone you know and love would die, but if you simply took your own life, would you be able to do it?,” the muscular man said as he sipped his Black Earl tea.
“That’s a perplexing question,” the reporter said, with a cynical smirk crossing his face, “does this have anything to do with why you asked me to come here?”
The muscular man looked around.
Just a look that he’d observe a table clearing.
“Daniel, Do you mind if we sit over there,” the muscular man said.
Daniel looked at the table – still barely hiding a cynical look on his face – the table was seated away from everyone, and out of earshot from everyone as well.
“Sure, Q was it?”, Daniel said.
“It is,” Q responded.
Q got up, with Daniel trailing right behind him. Daniel noted that the man’s gait didn’t seem to correspond to his speed, and that he walked considerably faster that seemed strangely unearthly. he shrugged it off, as Q sat down at the table with two chairs, and one chair behind him against a railing – which no one was sitting at.
Daniel sat down.
“Ok, Q, You’ve told me some things that pique my interest, I wouldn’t be here otherwise, but I do have things I need to attend to, do you mind getting on with this story of a lifetime?,” Daniel said, candidly.
“Sure. Have you ever seen the movie Interview with a Vampire?” Q queried.
Daniel sat back, sipping his coffee, “Sure”
“Have you ever noticed your name is the exact same as the lead character?,” Q said.
Daniel smiled, “No, I didn’t know that. His last name is Molloy as well?”
“It sure is,” Q said.
“Crazy coincidence,” Daniel said, “and he was a reporter as well.”
Q leaned forward. “It’s not a coincidence, Daniel, your name is why I chose you”.
Daniel leaned backward, a little creeped out.
Q snapped back realizing his mistake.
“That seemed a little stalkerish, I’m sorry about that,” Q said.
Daniel’s tenseness eased “That’s ok, Now – you said on the phone you have something scientifically that will change my world. I’m here as a science and technology reporter for the New York Times. You came to me, remember, now do you mind showing your demo or whatever it is you asked me to meet you here for.”
Q leaned back and pulled what looked like a cardboard bar coaster and placed it on the table in front of him.
Daniel smirked, broader than ever “So you’ve come all this way to show me a bar coaster.”
Q smiled, broadly. “Not just any bar coaster,” he said, as he leaned forward and tapped the harp.
With that, the harp pulsated in a rainbow of digital colors and seemed to emerge somewhat off the coaster in three dimensions, animating as the harp cords seemed to vibrate in tune with a distinct but very subtle sound that could be heard over the noise of a bustling late afternoon New York.
Daniel’s eyes widened.
“That’s incredible!,” he said, enchanted – he leaned forward about to touch it when he looked at Q for permission.
“Go ahead,” Q said.
Daniel picked up the coaster, and felt it’s material, looked for locations where it was projecting the three dimensional hologram, but there was absolutely no evidence of the emission points for the 3D hologram, let alone the sound that emanated from it. He put the coaster next to his ear, the sound amplified – so the coaster was definitely the origin of the sound.
Daniel set the coaster down.
“Nanotechnology?,” he said.
“Not quite,” Q asserted.
Q reached forward, and tapped the harp, Daniel had intentionally avoided touching the partially translucent projection.
The hologram and sound stopped.
“Well, what is it,” Daniel said.
“Magic,” Q said, this time he was smirking.
Daniel became notably irritated, “So you brought me out here to show me the world’s next biggest invention and not explain it?”
Q smiled, mischievously, “Oh, ok Daniel, you’ve done me a favor by coming out here. But the explanation of what your seeing is going to have to take a circuitous route”
Daniel pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ve been recording this entire conversation, do you mind if I set the phone on the table to capture all of this?”
Q smiled, and nodded.
Daniel “Ok, I’m all ears now”
This time it was Daniel looking around. He’d lucked onto something, and was now prepared for anything.
“First, I’d like to formally introduce myself. My name is Q, one and the same man you may have seen in Star Trek: The Next Generation, and Voyager,” Q said.
This guy’s gone bonkers, Daniel thought, but he’s shown me something incredible so I’ll bear with his ramblings until I get to understand how this thing works.
“Ok, so you’re a fictional character that my dad watched on tv, “ Daniel said.
“And I’m also immortal, an eternal being that’s here visiting you and your planet to tell you a story you’ve never heard before. “ Q added.
“And I’m the mouthpiece,” Daniel said, placating the crazy man’s dialog.
This hidden cynicism was detected by Q, but he’d expected it and didn’t respond to it.
“And this coaster, I got it about 10 minutes ago from the Guinness factory in Dublin, Ireland,” Q said.
Daniel sat back, smirking and thinking fucking crackpot, I knew it.
Q leaned forward, taking the coaster and ripping it in half, throwing the pieces on the ground for dramatic effect.
Daniel’s face was aghast.
“WHY did you do that?,” Daniel scolded, loudly.
Q looked around, no one had heard.
“Daniel, I’m introducing myself to you and this world, the coaster is just a normal coaster, “ Q said.
Daniel was about to speak, still clearly taken aback by this whole delivery, when Q traced a circle about 12 inches in diameter around Daniel’s phone. A digital holographic light trailed his finger and shone up about 6 inches high above where he’d just traced. It too, was rainbow in color, but with in a few seconds after Q traced the circle, the lines disappeared.
“Is in some kind of holodust?” Daniel said, “Nanoparticles?”
Daniel became extremely tense, and leaned forward looking at the circle that had just disappeared looking for traces and evidence of what Q had just done.
“Daniel, “ Q said, snapping his fingers. “Compose yourself”
“Sorry, I just,” Daniel said.
He sunk back, and relaxed, but he wasn’t sure if he’d actually done that.
Q this time waved his hand over the table, as he waved his hand, the black table transformed to a wood one.
“That’s,” Daniel was about to say.
“Not impossible,” Q finished for him, “it’s magic, which has it’s roots in your own science”
Daniel wanted to get up. To run. But there was this reporter part of him that locked him firmly into his seat.
“I don’t get it, what are you doing, where’s the trick?,” Daniel said.
Q smiled, knowingly “Daniel, I’m a God. My name is Q, and I’ve been watching your planet for a very long time before choosing to come and make my presence known to you. I needed you, as a society and world to reach a certain stage of your existence before you were capable of understanding me as a possibility, and you were chosen to be a conduit to your species by me and your own population”.
Daniel got angry “Bullshit, There’s got to be some other explanation for,”
Q snapped his fingers and instantly teleported to the chair behind him.
Daniels’ mouth dropped.
He wanted more than anything to scream. To get up and run. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t natural. He wanted to cry.
But he just sat there with his mouth agape.
“You’re… You’re impossible,” Daniel said.
Q smiled, snapping his fingers again, instantly disappearing from the far seat and reappearing at the one in front of Daniel.
He leaned forward. “Why thank you, my boy, I consider that a compliment”
Daniel looked at the coaster on the ground and glanced at Q.
“Oh that,” Q said, ” I detest litterbugs”
Q snapped his fingers again, the pieces of the coaster disappeared in a quick vibrant light and then reappeared, transformed into their whole back on the table in front of Daniel.
“I. This. Can’t be real. This isn’t real. You’re. I’m imagining…”
Q was notably frustrated.
“Dammit, Daniel,” and with that a swift whirlwind formed around them as the world transformed to the simultaneous snaps of Q’s fingers.
They’d found themselves seated at a table that in a roped off section, they were in an indoor bar like area, the night sky was all around, as they were now on the third floor of a facility with many people around and two freshly poured Guinness’s sitting in front of them.
People turned noting their entrance.
A bartender with a distinctive Irish accent waved, as Q smiled and waved back.
Daniel’s head was still spinning.
“Where. In. The. Fuck. Are. We,” Daniel said.
“We’re at one of my favorite places in the world, Daniel. The Guinesss factory tasting room in the center of Dublin, Ireland,” Q said.
“Who in the fuck are you?,” Daniel said.
At about this time, the Bartender walked over.
“He’s God, Daniel. But he prefers to be referred to as Q now. He’s no longer here incognito,” he smiled and winked at Q.
“You’re… You’re… real?,” Daniel said, emotion making his eyes well up.
“Of course he’s real,” the bartender said, “Took ya stubborn bloody Americans long enough to figure it out, too I might add”
The bartender looked at Q “We all good here?”
Q smiled, and looked at Daniel as he turned to look at the skyline.
“I think we are, “ Q said, “I finally think we are.”
The bartender looked at Daniel then back to Q.
“When can we be expecting ye?”, the Bartender said.
Daniel caught this. Subconsciously. But didn’t understand what it meant. His gaze remained fixed on the lights.
“Soon, Liam, within two years,” Q said.
“Daniel,” Liam said.
Daniel’s face was white. Like he’d seen a ghost that was sitting right here at the table with him.
He seemed moments away from an emotional breakdown.
“Yes?”, Daniel didn’t think of how the bartender knew his name, but he subconsciously logged that too.
“Will we be reading about this in your news?,” Liam said.
He mulled the thought over.
What raced through his head was how he’d be the laughing stock of his paper, how he’d probably be fired for writing about something so preposterously impossible, and both Liam and Q could see the reticence to discuss the experience openly – and that’s when he had a moment of clarity.
“Twenty minutes ago, I left the office and handed my manager a written first draft article and worked briefly with his assistant to send an email out,” he said, as he looked down and saw, amazingly that his phone was still on the table – which he’d noted was the same wood texture as the one Q had transformed the other table into. Was it the same table? He didn’t know.
He picked up the phone and dialed a number.
“Gail, this is Daniel. I’m in Dublin right now,” he said.
He held the phone from his ear, color returning to his face as he glanced at the two men at his table.
The Bartender looked at Q, as he sipped his Guinness, and patted him on the back.
“Enjoy, sir, and good luck,” Liam said.
Q smiled, “Thanks, Liam”
Liam walked away as Daniel’s conversation continued.
“Yes, I know Gail, I need you to book me a flight back to the states, the next one available, also – can you work with Dean, I need absolute proof that I’m here,” he said.
Some babbling could be heard on the phone.
“Yes, that’s fine,” Daniel said.
A loud male voice could be heard from the phone next.
“What is this bucket of horse shit that you’re in Dublin? You just left here not 20 minutes ago!,” Dean yelled.
Placing his hand over the phone, he said to Q “Dean Baquet, editor in chief. My boss.”
The man could be heard yelling something else.
“Dean. I need you to listen to me carefully. I need you and Gail’s help in proving I’m here, and that I was only 20 minutes ago there,” Daniel said.
Some more yelling could be heard on the phone.
“DEAN, PLEASE, this is important!,” Daniel said.
The yelling ceased.
A conversation continued.
“Uh huh. Yup. Uh huh. Yup. Ok. Got it,” Dean said over a minute’s worth of listening.
Dean set the phone on the table.
He glanced up. His eyes glossy.
Q smiled, setting the empty beer down.
“So he, “ Daniel began to say.
Q held up his hand in protest. as he spoke.
“He’s going to work with you to prove what happened to you actually happened. Starbuck’s has cameras everywhere around their facility and retains visual records two weeks at a time, contact the owner who is Jewish and he will gladly hand over footage to support you and your story. The Guinness family is protestant and will gladly hand you over timestamped footage,” Q said.
“You. You. Planned it this way, didn’t you,” Daniel said.
“No one wants an apocalypse, Daniel. Not even me,” Q said.
Daniel smiled, and tipped the beer up for a sip.
“Will you be fine here by yourself?” Q said.
“You’re leaving?,” Daniel said, questioning, then he changed it to a statement “Of course you’re leaving.. .”
Q got up, “It is nice finally meeting you, Daniel” as he started to snap his fingers, Daniel spoke up.
“Wait. Before you leave. One last thing, a picture,” Daniel said.
As if on cue, the bartender was there.
“I’ll take it for you,” Liam said.
Q smiled and leaned in, arm in arm with Daniel, both holding up their beers, as if by magic, Daniel noted how Q’s glass was now suddenly full.
“Say Cheers,” said Liam.
“Cheers,” both Daniel and Q said, holding their mugs.
The bartender looked at the image, as Q said “Daniel, it was my pleasure” he held out his hand.
Daniel took it.
He felt human.
And with that, without snapping, Q disappeared.
Liam handed Daniel his phone back.
“I so love it when he does that,” Liam said.
Daniel looked at the photo.
The image of the man he’d just had his photo taken with most decidedly did not look a think like the man he just saw.
He shook his head.
And smiled. And sat down as Liam left him by himself.
Daniel stared off into the distance, and after a minute, his phone rang.
“Oh God. I wasn’t…. Yes sir. Yes sir. Yes sir…. No sir. Of course sir,” he said.
Daniel hung up the phone, a look of shock persisted on his face.
As he got up, walking towards the exit, he looked over to Liam.
“Thank you for the beer” and with that he exited the facility.
In early September of 2011, after having spent the prior four months recreationally using bath salts and prior six years with cocaine, I had reached a point where common explanations of what I had been experiencing was no longer adequate enough to characterize these experiences.
So many questions came to mind.
Why, when I visited Amsterdam in 2003, were they referred to as “Magic Mushrooms”.
I’d never really found a passable etymology for the reference, but every shop that sold these hallucinogenic substances referred to them in the same way.
What further confounded me was that by every scientific measure, the experiences the mushrooms unlocked were both scientifically repeatable and provided precisely the same results between two people, where the experiences in light and sound was shared.
So in 2011, the word ‘hallucination’ was breaking down for me as a classification.
Like fiction. The lines defining reality were becoming blurry.
So in 2011, knowing deep down at a subconscious level that my own mind and conscious grip on reality and sanity were at stake, I shifted from primarily recreational use…
To one focused more on experimentation.
And as I toured the southwest United States, over and over again I kept asking myself.
“WHAT am I seeing?”
I’ve gone into great detail in the past about these experiences in past blog entries, so I won’t bore you with a recap here – but one major thing that I came out of the entire experience with was to reflect on fiction as a factual account of the totality of reality, and begin, in earnest, asking questions such as ‘how is this possible’.
What keeps me safe and sane is simple. The movie “Life is Beautiful” summarizes the life of a Jewish man who underwent persecution in Nazi Germany in World War 2, but to him, the events that happened around him he was perfectly – blissfully – and completely ignorant to as atrocities and instead regarded them as both a game and believed that he was fine throughout.
This mindset isn’t ignorance.
It’s a simple example of the conscious mind of an individual to be a part of someone else’s nightmare and lack of desire to be persecuted by them for consciously choosing a different path than is collectively determined for you.
The conscious mind IS truly this powerful.
And then some.
So as Harry Potter coined the term “muggles” for people who flat out didn’t see magic. This served as a lesson for muggles like me who WANTED to see magic that magic’s existence was real, but it requires an actively different way of thinking than i as a muggle had long been accustomed to.
Magic Mushrooms. Taught me, firsthand, that reality can have very different ways to perceive it that can be collectively shared.
But this effect is temporary. And not always predictable and more importantly, not always a favorable experience to me.
So how do I learn from that experience and the experimentation I did with bath salts and self-induced hallucinations through lack of sleep? In both cases I depended on substances to create the effect, but as I’ve noticed through extensive fasting, the way I perceive reality and my emotions are directly effected by food which makes it clear that EVERY substance alters my perception of reality, including food, creates a hallucinogenic effect.
In contrast to obvious substances like psilocybin mushrooms – other substances like food, water, pharmaceuticals – the ways they effect me and my beliefs are far less obvious.
I realized that everything – media, beliefs, pharmaceuticals – everything that stimulates me on the outside world were all effectively influencing me at a physiological level, and in a literal sense distorting my lens of reality. I mean, this is obvious really in how stress manifests in high blood pressure and stress related disorders, psychosomatic illnesses and placebos both demonstrate the mind’s ability to influence the chemical responses of the body, and then… there’s evidence of just how profoundly the body can change it’s entire physiology with mental disorders such as multiple personality disorder where some personalities have diabetes and vicious life threatening allergies where other personalities do not…….
And that’s when I realized – my lifestyle choices were serving to incapacitate my ability to see… magic….
I’d taken substances to introduce me to it as being a reality.
I’d seen and experienced. Irrefutable evidence to make very clear that I have my own universe. I have my own multiverse that I’m aware of. There are infinite perceivable permutations of universes ‘out there’ . My universe may look very different and flow very different temporally than everyone else’s (thanks, Einstein, for Relativity).
So. How do I manifest real magic?
As a programmer, that answer’s presenting itself.
Next week I get my stimulus check, of which I’ll take $300 and purchase an Oculus Rift Headset.
I’ll play some games. Like I usually do. get used to the experience of a three dimensional reality I control.
And then, leveraging development tools, I’ll begin to create prototypes of skills, effects and abilities I want to see in the real world.
I’ll start with two simple effects I can model:
- Lighting effects similar to the one I experienced in Amsterdam
- Telekinesis otherwise known as the act of manipulating an object without actually physically having to touch it.
My theory is as follows.
Reality itself is indeed created by imagination, but it’s solidified through science and belief in a mutual experience, but prioritizes the individual’s preferences, desires wants and not wants when the two stand in direct confrontation with eachother for a prolonged period of time. This is what creates a separate timeline/time stream/string of reality – and in my case – an entirely new version of Earth otherwise known as the New Earth/New World order.
So unlocking the skills for real magic is understanding that my thoughts link to reality at a subatomic layer which has up until this point been based on probabilistic influences, and almost the entropic death of me, this universe, and all of subjective reality based on my perspectve – and has resulted in my abject poverty and absolute need to change who I am to become who I want to be – not who and what society had defined for me. The reason for this is simple; the majority of reality from my perspective believes in the need for free will which trickles up to enable me.
Ok. Convoluted explanation.
So the TV show “Devs” (aka DEUS) outlines Quantum Computing’s capabilities in it’s ability to look at events throughout time leveraging probabilistic methods to ascertain events across time, which ALSO demonstrates the abilities of the/my untethered mind to stimulate reality in similar ways through assertion of my wants and desires.
This is the butterfly and the butterfly effect in a nutshell.
Those scientists studying quarks and muons and other ‘subatomic particles’ are looking at matter in a probabilistic form and configuration. What they’re well aware of it there are other configurations, quantum superposition indeterminate states of matter make this obvious and clear, but what I don’t think they quite understand is these alternative states can become more predictable if you choose to understand there are alternative and equally as valid labels which explain these configurations in alternative ways.
This is computer science in a nutshell.
Where the interrelationships for probabilistic configurations isn’t just something to observe and study, it’s actually something that’s definable and re-definable with the proper intention,.
This is what magic is. In a highly scientific way, it’s the reconfiguration of subatomic matter to achieve the results that I, as a scientist and explorer and general adventurist and enjoyer of reality and the possibilities it can offer, with the Oculus VR I can start by simulating the possibilities and – my direct effect of these possibilities.
Simulation I believe alters the subatomic configuration of reality that scientists are currently observing and trying to predict.
So as I exert my desires, my wants and my not wants – this has up until now been responsible for influencing reality in ways that I’d largely been ignorant of. I didn’t understand the relationship of my own mind to reality, nor did I understand just ‘where’ simulation was, and how, exactly, it related to reality.
Now I know.
I’;m going to approach this slow and delicately, as I am NOT interested in seeing my reality collapse nor am I interested in having ‘bad trips’.
But the obvious goals are to commence training my own mind, and perhaps the constituent pieces of reality about where I’m going with this, what I want out of it, and the level of control I want over time and space – as I suspect the end result will be a slow move forward to seeing what I’m doing in simulation begin to have the same effect on reality itself.
I would LOVE to become a stage magician, something I’ve ALWAYS dreamed about – entertaining people with magic tricks.
But more than that. I didn’t want it to be a trick.
I don’t have to tell the audience this.
But for anyone wanting to know where it starts.
I think all fairy tales are true and this is the beginning of mine.
Thank you, to anyone reading and supporting me in your own ways. i appreciate you more than words can express. I have a feeling you’re behind this and to some degree while your anonymousness bothers the heck out of me, I do appreciate you and your continued support as well as your anonymity. I hope my life and what it is becoming serves to inspire you as much as yours has undoubtedly done the same to me.
In 1996, I obtained a year long contract at the Mirage Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, Nevada, on behalf of Microsoft Consulting Group (MCG) working with my friends Ron Ostreim and Mike Moore on a team of about 40 people altogether.
The develop team was separated into three primary areas – the database and SQL Server development, almost exclusively operated by two people – Cory and James Dunn, both of which were easily some of the best DBA’s I’d ever met. Then there was a the largest group – the ‘middle tier’ group – which worked on implementation of hotel rules and procedures, inter-division communication and interfacing with SABRE and other external agencies which largely produced aggregated information for travel agencies – Mike Moore, a friend I’d had since I’d worked with at Orbital in 1990 – and has long since fallen off the map for some reason – was on this team. Finally, there was my team – where Ron and I worked hand in hand on the User Interface with a bevvy of other programmers.
While I’d dealt with India Indians before this point, I’d never really worked with them – but this team had at least half it’s workforce was India Indian.
So one man kind of led that team a man by the name of Walid Abu-Hadba – and while I assumed he, too was Indian because he was in charge of that team, I think he was Pakistani or Arab.
Seeing as this was my first real exposure to Indians though, I began noticing – there’s no real personality here to these guys, about 15 in total, with ONE solitary exception. Mohammed, who one day about four months into me working there the dude overnight transformed himself into an Indian Elvis, and refused to be acknowledged by any other name. He’d gone so far to get the gaudy stage style Elvis outfits, and even funnier – he wore these huge 70s sunglasses where you just couldn’t see his eyes. For the remainder of my contract there, his transformation endured.
Had this been timed around Halloween, one might make some sense of it. But this happened in mid April.
With that solitary exception, I noticed things about the other Indians though. They were highly inclusive with their community. They did NOT fraternize with anyone outside of their group unless required to do so based on work requirements. And when ANYONE in a position of leadership asked them to jump, they didn’t just nod in unquestioning agreement, they did exactly as they were asked or told to do.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
Which was at times unnerving. With Western programmers I could ask them to do some things and I know they’ll make some assumptions through the course of the work that some things need to be done above and beyond what was outlined. This was NOT the case with Indian programmers, as if things were not spelled out with precision, they simply wouldn’t do it.
At first I thought this discovery about Indian culture was just a biased representation based on a small sample. I mean, I had taken psychology and sociology courses as well as statistics courses to know about sample bias and that in a world full of a billion Indians, perhaps I’ve gotten an unusual glimpse.
But after that, this – what some might classify as a racial stereotype held absolutely true with exceedingly rare exceptions.
Shortly after Elvis transformed, this gave me an idea on a personal pet project I’d been working on.
While working in Las Vegas, I was married, and while I love strip clubs and would have spent my time there, I was married and trying to ‘be good’ and spend my evenings off of work doing more benign things in the casino like spending my hard earned cash in the casino.
More often than not, I’d lose, so I began studying odds and statistics in an applied fashion, and then over a period of several days I created a program written in Visual Basic 6.0 which would play Blackjack. How it worked was simple – the house plays with predictable rules that I can codify. Hit on soft 17 for instance, no doubling, no splitting, 5 deck shoes, etc… So what I did was a created a program which codified these rules, and then I codified my own strategy in an effort to ‘beat the house’.
But there was a problem – I couldn’t reliably beat the house and could do no better than boost my odds to 50% .
A roll of the dice wasn’t good enough for me.
So one night, this big, drunk older Texan stumbles up to the table with two young gorgeous blondes. He’s clearly paid for them. But I do something unusual for myself. Instead of looking at the tits, I pay attention to the influence he and their presence has on the table. I notice that this full table has dramatically changed, and no one was playing like they were. In fact, everyone is losing.
So from there, I took this back to the drawing board, and based on a book I’d recently read called “The Art of Seduction”, I codified 7 different personality types into my blackjack algorithm,, six taken from the book itself, and one I added in after close observation of people.
- #1. Sirens.
- #2. The Rake.
- #3. Charmer.
- #4. Charismatic.
- #5 Natural.
- #6. Dandies.
- #7. The Ideal.
So for me, the rules I had to memorize were diverse and were applicable only to Mirage Properties only. Including me, every table can have up to six different players. Every table had a five deck shoe. While some believe that playing the ends matters, it really only does if you’re playing the last hand and counting cards, which I don’t do.
And with these personality types – every one will have their own playstyle, which only becomes exaggerated when they’ve been drinking – which is what makes Vegas such an AWESOME place to study psychology, sociology, and personalities in general.
So here’s the codified rules:
- The siren, doesn’t know what they’re doing and largely acts as chaos. They’ll hit on 15s and bust, and the next hand they’ll stay on 12. Typically they lose. but they also totally break card counter’s accuracy with their complete lack of predictability. Card counting relies mainly on a predictable table, where the siren serves to dismantle the concentration of anyone trying to win.This is easy to program. Play by the rules. But randomly choose something different than what is ‘best’.
- The rake is the scoundrel. he’s the mousy guy that wants to talk to you, she’s the prostitute that dresses just well enough to not overtly look like one and appears just a bit too forward with you, he’s the guy who’s cracking really bad jokes trying to create banter with the dealer making everyone want to have another drink, and he/she’s the con artist who might appear to passively be looking for any opportunity they can.The rake is different and substantially harder to program. DOES NOT play by the rules and will keep a card count. When a hit will break him but increase the odds of your loss, he’ll take the hit. Implementing this required me to understand card counting and to implement it, but to also introduce random inaccuracies into the count so the count wasn’t perfect.
- The charmer. She (and rarely he) WANTS to see you win. She’s the one who’s had a bit too much to drink and tries too hard to flirt with the whole table but there’s something inside you that tells you that attention is directed firmly at you. He’s the gay guy that leans in too close when he goes to talk to you. No matter the person, the charmer is friendly, and while the charmer’s on your side, they want to see you win.The charmer is EXACTLY the opposite as the rake, and generally plays by the rules BUT does keep a card count. When a hit will break him but increase the odds of your win, he/she willtake the hit.
- The charismatic. Is almost exactly like the charmer with one exception – their focus is seeing the team win not just you. Is likable, to a fault, makes instant friends with everyone, and genuinely seems to enjoy their lives and being there. Often times, these people are magnetic in nature and it’s not an act.To program, this personality is much like the charmer with one exception, the team is their focus not you.
- The natural. The natural is probably what 50% of the people fall in the category of because they have their own set of rules they live by, and play by. They are absolutely predictable with their playstyle, and don’t typically resort to tricks or strategies other than those cemented in their beliefs. These people could range from teacher to soccer moms to firefighters to sanitation workers and more, and are typically (but not always) blue collar types.To program, i developed a list of play styles I could think of before I integrated personality types into my program. Hitting on soft 17 unless the dealer has a 13 or 14 showing, always splitting 8’s and 9’s, always doubling on 11’s – a mix of these rules and more would be compiled into the natural’s playstyle, which really bumped up the randomness of the simulation.
- Dandies. These are the party animals. Like my Texan friend with the two blond hotties, he wasn’t truly engaged in what he was doing, and it shows. What’s different about these people isn’t the distinction in per-hand playstyle, it’s the simple predictable fact that they usually won’t play more than 5 hands as they quickly move on from the table.For this one, I used the natural style, which assured a random pattern to their behavior, HOWEVER rather than have certain financial limits that governed the time the other players would spend on a table, I set a random maximum # of played hand limits before they walked away.
- The Jerk. Unlike every previous personality, the jerk just seems like a nasty personality to be around. He/she creates a palpable, intangible sink to the festivities and levity of a table, and in general is a real downer. Whether this is a temporary state or not doesn’t matter, the effect on the table is all the same.This one is the HARDEST to code because of the effect it has on me and everyone else psychologically. How I coded this up at first was to add a random misplay to my and other’s hands when this guy or gal came to the table. So when one of these came to the table, I would actually leave the table. Now, how I would code this up – there’s a couple ways that would be imperceptible to most players.The whole point of the jerk is – the game around him/her just isn’t as much fun and a sigh of relief is typically palpable when they leave.
- First, I might randomly shuffle ALL cards when he/she came to the table, where if there were 52 dealt already out of a 6 shoe deck, then I would randomly shuffle those 52 cards with the rest of that deck and pull out 52 randomly and place those in the discard pile. ANYONE who is counting cards won’t be able to figure this one out easily.
- Second, I might INCREASE the randomness of every player’s randomly wrong moves (if they have one). This might result in a more random playstyle when he/she is around for everyone.
- Third, I might dynamically deviate his playstyle and alternate it.
Ok. So. I’ve codified rules and ideas on playstyles of behaviors. Fine and dandy right, but let’s skip ahead to an Indian woman named Kena.
Prior to meeting Kena, every Indian I’d met fit my stereotypical pattern of behavior. I fell in love with the girl because of MANY things, her skin color, her genuinely affable nature with everyone, her body (I LOVED her boobs, and told her this frequently). While her friendly nature stood in stark contrast to the rest of her race, everyone she introduced me to most decidedly did not.
But here’s the thing about Kena – she was equally as obedient with what she was asked to do with work as every other Indian I’d worked with prior to then.
So when I met Kena, I’d been questioning racial profiling as a lot of people in Arizona had been doing because of Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s heavy handed tactics in dealing with immigration issues and cutting back on petty crime. There’d be a markedly high rate of crime that could be easily traced to certain locations in Phoenix, where there’d be a predominantly hispanic population in that area. While I had absolutely seen evidence to support this stereotype, I knew this stereotype didn’t always hold true, but here was a community vehemently protesting racial profiling..
Largely without merit.
On a dozen different occasions, I took a truck to Chandler Road in Phoenix where I could find hispanic day laborers who would work for a fraction of the cost of day laborers hired through state approved means. I could rely on these workers to do what I asked them to do (with nominal translational issues), and when our business was done, it was done. Like my grandfather before me, these, to me, were people, and while there were perceivable differences in race, their being here in the states actually looking for work I correlated that to a stereotype of a better work ethic than most domestic laborers doing the same thing here.
So the uproar about racial profiling, largely on the heels of Muslim influence – caused me to look at my own stereotype..
Black people loved chicken. It’s a funny fuckin stereotype but so far it’s spot fucking on. A homeless friend of mine – Dennis in Studio City – came up to me with a bag full of hot chicken he’d gotten free from a Fred Meyer’s employee, when I laughed and said “Dude, you have just reaffirmed my stereotype of black people”, to which he laughed and replied “I LOVE me SOME FRIED CHICKEN BABY”. He then handed me a piece, and we hung out shooting the shit for a couple hours before he headed back to his tent for the night.
As a manager. I found that hiring Indians for specific tasks that demanded remaining within scope of what I wanted to be absolutely, positively valuable to rely on the stereotype I’d formed when hiring. In the same way I’d formed a stereotype about the value of people involved in technology who were from the midwest (hicks who are savvy with technology are some of the most outstanding workers and coworkers I’ve ever worked alongside), my stereotypes might be deemed racism by the uninformed.
But to me. When I meet/see a Russian, Ukrainian or Romanian, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt he (they’re NEVER she’s) – will be a great hacker at whatever they choose to do. Whether that’s videography, computing, or architecture – they’ll do things that will amaze me with their out of the box untraditional thinking.
Oh, sure, EVERY ethnicity has it’s outliers. Those who don’t fall firmly into this stereotypical categorization I’ve formed.
But when I meet a Chinese person, I can expect to genuinely always be kept on my toes with them around intellectually. They’re stimulating people, which is why I wanted to move to Hong Kong – to be closer to them – but not to mainland – because I needed and wanted my western lifestyle to balance myself out.
As for Arabs.
I’ll go so far to say the ball’s in their court now. They’ve got a LOT of work to do to better their image to the world, and I DO believe they’ve started with the renovations of their major cities (Dubai/UaE, etc) to a more commercial presence. But here’s the problem I have and why I do NOT like being involved with people from North Africa in general:
They don’t seem to care about me, as a person, and my country in any way other than what they can get out of it to make their country better for them.
Win/Win seems to be devoid of life in their vocabulary. To them, at least from my observations, life and the world is a zero sum game that they intend on winning at all costs.
It is what it is.
And like the Indians, they don’t choose to comingle. But unlike Indians – they don’t remotely try to make themselves equivalent to me and my country and people – constantly elevating themselves and their own self worth at the cost of diminishing mine and my country’s in the process. This is what caused 9/11 to happen to begin with. It’s what maintains a general disdain for the culture to be open here in the US.
I’m not racist, but I do believe ethnicity carries with it a firm division of culture and principles, along with beliefs – that make us fundamentally different from one another.
Which makes me fine with my stereotypes.
And then there’s the funky long term effects of what this causes. Canadians are becoming cylons. India Indians evolve to become the Bynars. And as the Muslim community circles around a giant cube they more and more assert their becoming this species known as the Borg.
Actions and behaviors CAN change over time, and alter the course of where it will predictably lead.
But I don’t think most individuals understand the collective communities they belong to, how that forms a collective mind, and their acts of defiance to that norm just because they don’t want to be predictable may actually come at a cost that causes more problems with the world than it actually provides any real benefit to them.
I think that’s the problem right now with the world.
There’s quite a few people who have been told the rules. And while they don’t necessarily disagree with the rules. They don’t want to be told what to do. So they act in defiance to dismantle authority without actually knowing what they want, as they strangely believe that acting in defiance is individuality when it’s not, by itself.
Here’s a great example a friend of mine put on facebook:
There’s a problem in the world 6 months ago where most people would want to and would choose to remain at home. Now that there’s a rule they perceive to stay home. they don’t want to and are trying to act in defiance. I myself. I don’t break rules just to break them. I break them when it serves my interest. I went to Cuba despite an embargo. I did cocaine because I thought it might interest me. I drove drunk because realistic cost effective options weren’t available. Etc.
There SHOULD NOT be a rule to tell people to stay home and that businesses should be closed.
This I agree with.
Anyways. I’m rambling. Time to end this.
When I went to China, I saw a bunch of people wearing masks.
The air quality in Beijing is really bad, or at least it was back when I went in 2009 and then again in 2010. With that poor air quality, apartments each have air conditioners the size of refrigerators in each one, which doesn’t just clean the air, it purifies it. And I will tell you what. Within a day of being there, my lungs hurt and I was ready to leave.
So when Microsoft called up to offer me the job in Beijing working as a Program Manager making $300k a year.
I politely declined.
When they asked why I would decline an offer like this, my response was simple.
Beijing’s air quality would be horrible for my health, and I just wasn’t interested in prolonged exposure to that.
They knew the quality of the air was dismal. Like I said, MANY people wore masks.
So as the woman on the other end attempted to sell the other working locations I’d get to work from – Washington DC, Bangkok, and Seattle – spending 3 months a year in each location, while the gig certainly sounded appealing, Beijing was my deal breaker. The place was chilly, it felt emotionless, and the air quality was just so bad that i just couldn’t see myself spending any time there without constant headaches and more problems with my sinuses than I already have.
So I politely declined.
Now I know no one’s going to read this because anything I have to say or do no one seems to give a shit about anymore.
But there was another reason in there as well. And that was – I was actually liking the states as my home base.
Microsoft was pretty miffed. I’d not once, but twice denied jobs with them, once back in 1996 when they offered me far too little money to provide help line support for a product I’d had many years of experience with at literally half the pay I was making. And then again, in 2010, when the money was right, the location just sucked.
Now don’t get me wrong, I like China.
But between air quality. And masks. It just wasn’t the world I wanted to live in.
Fast forward to yesterday.
Now my mom’s mortified and I see a LOT of drama online concerning this so called corona virus that’s around the world.
But here’s the thing. With the exception of silly things – that it appeared to me a form of information warfare had clearly been waged to frighten people to go do a run on toilet paper.
Every other imaginable product is available from every store I go to.
Oh sure there’s some oddness with the depletion of unusual items on the shelves – occasion – flour, canned tomatoes (but not fresh ones), rice, etc. But by and large, with the exception of one out of five people wearing masks AND less traffic on the road, aside from ‘sky is falling news’ which has remained persistent for nearly 4 decades since I can remember with fear based propaganda, it is almost impossible to tell when I go out that there’s actually anything new going on in the world.
Put specifically, I see it on the media.
But the real world just doesn’t seem to reflect it. And, more importantly, I’m simply not interested in it doing so either.
Shortly after my trip to China in 2010, I visited the Church of Scientology building in Los Angeles in 2011. I was exploring what my mom and others defined as a ‘cult’ to put it in contrast next to other religions like Buddhism, Hinduism, Christianity, etc – and was really eager to learn why was there such strong emotions concerning this place.
Also, since I had found myself picking and choosing what I believed on based on personal observations combined with ideas I thought held value, I wanted to analyze Scientology for any potential value it could hold to me.
Now prior to this visit, I’d done my research online, but the information I was finding felt… biased. Like a lot of people who hated it had collectively conspired together to make it look bad.
So I went in. And sure. I could agree with some of the points on the internet. The church was founded on an interesting story, but that story just didn’t jive for me. BUT what it did do is make me look at similar stories that inspired me – Doctor Who and Star Trek. Were these religions? If so, I needed to take the time and opportunity to pick and choose from them the same way I picked and choosed the concept that medicine and pharmaceuticals no longer worked for me based on the idea pulled from Scientology material.
So to relate this to the Corona thing.
For me, I’ve lived with something that was diagnosed with epilepsy since I can remember.
To explain what this is like in layman’s terms, it’s like having two minds. One primary one that’s pretty much always in control, the other floats, pretty freely, and as I grew older that ‘mind’ in a literal sense learned to inhabit the bodies of other people and manipulate them – driving them like a car making them do things they otherwise may not normally do.
Now to put this into contrast with multiple personality disorder, with multiple personalities, the personalities manifest themselves in sequence within the same physical body, resulting in an obvious to detect shift in physiology, psychology, behavior, and even other things like food allergies and likes and dislikes. This should give an obvious hint of how physiological responses form.
Now I had taken medication at a very early age to mitigate the problems. Tegretol. Dilantin. And what I – and my family – wasn’t told about the medication was what, in actuality, it was doing – which was attempting to split that other part of my mind from me. They weren’t told much more than it stabilized my brain.
Sure, that wasn’t a lie, but it did so through disassociation of a part of my identity.
So as I grew older. I found myself bouncing back and forth between medications for a variety of other things. I never, really, had control of my own body, let alone my own mind, so in 2003, I had a pretty major nervous breakdown and depression set in – which also hinted at my need to do some work on understanding myself and my own mind.
So I did.
Over the next course of several years, I threw caution to the wind. I found my resistance to medication to control problems with my body generally growing, and as I experimented with illegal narcotics and found the same thing happening, I started analysing science, consciousness, and the origins of the matter itself.
Here’s the conundrum I was faced with as I realized that the fine line between myself and others was blurry, and it was directly as a result of the way my mind functioned and it’s seat in my reality through this thing called a brain and a body:
I did the mental thought experiment and pretended that reality itself was a blank slate. That is, light, sound, matter, energy, space and dimensionality, time, heaven, hell, god, the devil – none of it existed. To me this is the fundamental structure of nothingness, where even that label nothingness doesn’t exist.
So from this. Somehow. My world was built.
There’s motion and material in it which I can experiment with and validate through my own senses. Most of this is documented in physics, chemistry, and biology, but one thing that absolutely remains true is that conceptually, the science of the things I cannot see and have had to rely on faith in procedures and processes has systematically been failing me for quite some time.
Ok, don’t get me wrong. I know when I put gas in the car it goes. I know the smell of the fuel. I know that when I eat I feel less hungry. I know when I drink water I feel less thirsty.I know when you mix certain chemicals together, you get predictable outcomes for the results.
But what I don’t have is a proper explanation for the outliers.
You know. The things that science doesn’t explain.
For instance, stress’s very real physiological effect in manifesting internal problems such as ulcers, anxiety, and an oily feeling that makes me feel like a slug.
Oh sure, science can say it’s high tryglycerides or that my chemicals are off. But as I take those chemicals. Another problem crops up. Which suggests that the chemicals may not be a real solution and that instead, they could simply be exacerbating a problem……
…. with my mind.
So in 2011. I had the ending of what appeared to be an epic battle with this ‘other part’ of my own mind, I assume for dominance of my body.
I also started getting memories I couldn’t explain. Memories of living two timelines from 2003 to 2011. Memories of DISTANT past events happening – and as I started understanding that I had lived MUCH longer than I thought I had, I started to realize the movies and tv shows I was watching was like a mirror, showing me important memories of my experiences from a disassociated perspective of a distant past until there came a point in time where I started ‘waking up’ to who I was, and who I am, and who I always will be.
As for epilepsy and the split mind.
What I’ve come to conclude is reality is split into two distinct parts. The analog observable world I live. And the holographic/simulated universe which is what I see when I watch tv, watch a movie, play a video game, or do anything on my computers.
So starting in 2011, my two minds began the slow convergence back to one. That’s where the memories were coming from.
One part of my mind lived primarily in the holographic reality. Another part – lived within the analog. And as they converge, those two ‘world views’ are merging as well.
So what I learned about science is – in a closed simulated world within a holographically based mathematical type simulation, science functions in a predictable way. Because it’s a part of the program. But here in the real world, it doesn’t function like that, as evidenced by everything from gravitational anomalies with the Mystery Spot and Bermuda Triangle, to physiological immunity to drugs, to corona being real in the holographic construct and not in the real world.
So if one looks at what’s happening with corona through the lens of science paying attention to the physical structure of matter and it’s relationship to energy and my own mind.
I can clearly see that a holographic mind merging with my analog is causing a resistance. And that resistance to this convergence is manifesting in the real world through a virus.
Now mind you, colds and the flu have never really been named and the effects are similar, which to me details the origin of science itself.
But science. Like religion. Doesn’t have all the answers.
For instance, I know I can go around and lick doorknobs and have someone with the virus cough in my face and I know for certain I would not get it,.
And the reason I know this is – science is a filter, it’s a lens, and as that lens has proven to consistently lead through fear and intimidation.
Incidentally, not that much different in tactics than my own father.
Then I know that, like my father, there comes a point for both my father and for a silly virus that feels more like a bully in a schoolyard (for both) where it behooves me to simply stop responding to this manipulative, underhanded, mean spirited, demeaning – and assholish methods of provocation without real concern for me.
So about a year and a half ago, I finally put two and two together and realized.
America isn’t just the country I live in.
It’s my country.
This country contains a wide swatch of people who just don’t seem to care about me and my interests and desires. Does that make me want to get rid of them? No.
But it does make me realize.
I am living in a society of robots commanded by media.
Which I figure makes me the programmer.
I believe Corona’s fiction. And it’s fiction I just don’t want here.
I was watching an interesting video made just this year featuring Robert Downey Junior made by Youtube, where RDJ discusses AI and it’s progression, when he made several comments about the progress which reflected where technology was for AI – publicly – about 10+ years ago.
And that’s when it hit me.
Life is Beautiful.
When I tried committing suicide. That was my way of saying to the universe I am done with your torture. And that marked the slow beginning of the separation of two realities.
While I can see both the holographic and the analog.
Robert Downey Junior provided evidence that time itself and information relative to his frame of reference was different than my own. Something I’d suspected based on Snowden’s ‘revelations’ as he detailed technology that was literally 20 years old to the public.
I’d never imagined I was technologically ahead of the rest of the world.
But the evidence is presenting itself that by the choices i’ve made, not only am I becoming someone completely different than the rest of the human race physiologically because I fundamentally think about the world and perceive it differently.
But this is, quite simply, how things work.
Like an immune system trying to rid it’s body of an infection – the societal outliers are expunged from society when they predictably cause too many problems…
Especially with thinking.
Corona isn’t a virus of the body.
It’s a virus of the mind.
If you don’t believe me. Where’s the evidence other than people robotically reacting to the fear – offline – in the real world?
Also – a couple footnotes. Corona beer has stopped manufacturing as of yesterday, a new market has been created for surgical masks and sanitary gloves, money’s being spent on ‘a cure’, and a lucrative industry has been getting even more financing (medical industry) – so don’t even try tellin me this virus has nothing to do with abuses to economics gone awry.
And – a weird note that won’t make sense to anyone but me – what if this is World War 2’s attempt to remanifest itself in the present day? it ‘bubbles’ up through time, so I figure – if I use quantum computing to play whack a mole, i can effectively create a split in reality by forcing it to go on it’s own path and leave my reality alone.
I post nude photos regularly on Reddit, in part to see what happens as I raise my karma scores to certain levels, in part because it helps me fine tune my searching skills in finding specific images (and other things) that I’m currently engaged in finding on search engines such as Google and Bing.
About a month ago, I was banned from Reddit based on a posting of what others claimed to be a fake image of a young Rihanna in a sub named ‘CelebNSFW’.
The sub’s been interesting. But most of the photography is unflattering, and the image I had – which was legitimate – was a wonderful nude of Rihanna got any of her tattoos. I’ve posted the image before here on my blog, Rihanna’s a gorgeous woman who in my opinion made some mistakes with her pursuit of tats and piercings, but that’s just me… Here’s that image.
So as I refused to respond to the flames that the image was fake (which it is not, I’ve had it since I first found it when she was barely 19), I learned that Reddit takes a hardline stance against fakes which resulted in my permanent ban from the site. With a little back and forth discussion, being absolutely since with my assertion that I believe (note the tense) the image is real – I was able get my ban lifted and changed to a suspension.
So I stopped posting nudes to this forum. Oh I’ve got some good ones. Absolutely real. Ones like this one for Katy Perry…
So as I read the rules on Reddit, seeing how the owners of this site had blanketly gone through and demonized anyone who created or distributed anything that could be marked in this category of ‘deep fakes’ – or more specifically as I discovered – people in the public eye doing things out of character or being seen in ways that defies their current public image – would immediately be banned from the community, no questions asked, as I discovered for myself.
So as I went through my celebrity nude portfolio, I began doing reverse google searches attempting to discover what ‘the internet thought’.
And not very much to my surprise, I saw images like the two above – which had the label “CELEBJIHAD” affixed at the bottom – a site well known for fakes. So I perused the site, and what I found odd was images I’d seen in Playboy before – legitimate photo shoots – were affixed this label.
So today, I wanted to test the waters with Reddit again. Early in her career, Rihanna did a magnificent and highly classy nude photo shoot – I can’t remember where I first saw it. So I scrounged up a picture from that photo shoot, and posted it again to Reddit. The same forum from before that caused my ban. THIS time, refreshing the page paying attention to the messages making sure any protests I received to the image’s authenticity – I would immediately pull it, lest I risk another ban…..
So here’s the image I posted… Of which the community loved, very quickly receiving nearly 50 ‘up votes’ for …
Now to me, a young Rihanna is gorgeous. And this image, classy, sexy, sultry – epitomizes who she was early in her career to me.
Now the reactions on Reddit were quick to come once it became popular… As I posted a message attempting to mitigate the attacks, which came with a follow up by a rude user demanding I prove it’s real (guilt until proven innocence)… So I said fuck it, and removed the photo. Hey, if a few people are going to get into a ‘reality war’ and ruin it for their community, then I’ll pull entirely out entirely. I also disconnected entirely from the community after that. While some of the imagery was entertaining, most of the images was from people who were not celebs in my opinion, so it was more of a waste of my time.
NOW here’s the comments I received before pulling it:
This is roughly the same trend as what happened last time, I posted the image, it received a lot of positive response before the image police came around erroneously labelling it as fake, then the votes turned downward and I was banned. So I prevented that entirely.
All of this has turned out to be an intriguing study of communities and the formation of what’s real and what’s not.
In real life, I’ve had similar observations and have had this feeling that my achievements has been what’s made it difficult if not impossible to find work.
Largely because rationally, I have come to conclusions based on rational observations that defy commonly accepted norms.
And it’s communities like this. Who attack first. Don’t ask questions. Which dictate those norms.
I’ve had to take a step back, and realistically analyze the value these communities provide. That is, I’ve had to get away from making assumptions that they’re doing anything wrong, I myself did the same thing when I was younger about concepts i didn’t understand or agree with, and instead – look for ‘the value’.
And – using this as a lesson learned to apply in this thing called reality – mitigate the risk to me, my psyche, and the direction I want to take the world.
And the lesson is this:
I can present something I think and believe is beautiful., or art, or a story, or a concept of an idea
Sometimes, it’s origin story matters, and sometimes it doesn’t.
Now I’ve found real world conflict with origin stories happen regularly. Unless of course it’s Superman, we all know he comes from Krypton and was sent here by Jor El.
So how Reddit diminishes the conflict between origin stories is by instituting a policy that reinforces group think.
Analytically, if I were a machine learning algorithm, I could easily trace down sensitive ‘origin story’ topics within a community in Reddit by posting an indistinguishable and predictably high karma return fake, something that looks absolutely, positively real, then gauge the antagonistic levels of “fake” responses. For origin story insensitive topics/subs, you quite likely won’t uncover anyone protesting ‘fake’, but for chronologically sensitive subs, the response will be fast and furious – and while karma might rise quickly, the ‘fake’ protests will as well. Time to remove the water tester!
Now from there. One could build an origin story and support material on the web, backdating information on the internet on various web sites, and THEN reposting a similar image.
Wash/rinse/repeating to determine volume requirements for origin story dependent material to change public perception.
A few years ago, not long after a short tryst I’d had with what easily classifies as the most attractive woman – inside and out that I’d ever met – Rachel Gooch – I’d been trying to clean myself up from a long standing addiction to cocaine when she said in a phone conversation that stung in a way I needed it to.
Paraphrasing, because I don’t remember the exact words, she said “What you remember about our relationship is not reality”.
All throughout my life, I’ve felt insecure about who I am. I grew up bullied, and while I overcame that stigma by working out like a mad dog, I still had this problem with my own imagination – a problem which had me always preparing for the worst that could happen while simultaneously hoping for the best – and finding myself pleasantly surprised when things worked out my way.
Putting my life into contrast, the time I did share with Rachel was informative.
She came from a wealthy family. Her husband was also wealthy. I myself wanted wealth as well, which when I found Rachel attracted to me – that came as a surprise because I sincerely felt like her and her ‘caste system’ for lack of better description was so profoundly different from my own that it just… did not compute.
More specifically. I just enjoyed the time with her and stopped asking why she was here.
But I also paid attention. Chris – Rachel’s husband – would regularly send checks to help Chris and Rachel out with their household and related expenses. Unprompted. Her own father was the former head of the Department of Defense, a leader by any definition, and clearly he knew things about the world that even I may not have at that time. Chris – a prominent lawyer in Phoenix – and Rachel – were the very definition of a silver spoon family and household, And while Rachel and I shared some intimate moments, I had this distinct feeling that Chris had…. orchestrated it.
Which made me feel…. Weird. Like I was travelling unmapped territory in human relationships.
Oh sure, I’d heard about ESP before and read stories about Extra Sensory Perception, but like many things ranging from telekinesis to telepathy, teleportation to transmutation, the alliteration highly intentional with the usage of t’s – having never actually witnessed it for myself to my conscious awareness.
I’d begun to discover there was ore to this world than I’d at first imagined possible.
So when Rachel told me that our relationship was imagined.
It was the first time in my life I didn’t take her assertion personally.
Nor did I question my own experiences.
I’d met Rachel in a Marketing class at University of Phoenix – which Chris had encouraged her to go to, where Rachel and I quickly became friends and she confessed that she was having problems with feeling attractive and desirable with Chris. We’d exchanged phone numbers, for class, and I never once initiated things with her – as she called me one day I was having a particularly hard day emotionally – and she was as well, so she invited herself over, and asked for ‘permission to take off her clothes’ – which I felt like a little boy in a candy shop as I exuberantly responded affirmatively. I stared at her, stark naked on my bed that day for nearly 3 hours as we talked, which is easily one of the most important moments I’ve had in my life – one of the few times someone actually did something good and enjoyable for me.
Our ‘relationship’ continued with a dinner at Ra, a short tryst at her place while her husband was away.
But something inside me told me. Chris is here. He’s watching. He orchestrated this as well.
The whole time I was trying to understand my own issues. I was disillusioned with life as it was, had worked so hard for so little and kept getting diminishing returns for my efforts. My romances capsized as quickly as they began. And those friends I enjoyed would very frequently vacate my life replaced by people who offered a very shallow substitute for what was there.
But I blamed myself.
So this tryst with Rachel had me paying a LOT of attention to Chris. Sure, I was curious how someone like him could land a woman like Rachel, and sure, I was definitely intrigued by his affluence.
But what had me studying him was a moment when our study group was at Chris and Rachel’s house and Chris had – in a very calculated way – set ‘The Economist’ down in a matter which seemed like and innocuous bread crumb which might inspire me to get a subscription to it myself to better understand Chris’s mindset. But as I later reflected on this placement, I realized – it was deliberate, intended for me, it was very calculated in it’s nature with an intent of pushing me in a direction to obtain my MBA rather than a JD which Chris had.
But something triggered in me as my… shall we say – sixth sense realized that consciously, Chris was NOT ok with Rachel and my tryst.
So here’s the thing.
As I pondered the moments I experienced with everyone in my life questioning free will, it was around this time – there was an episode of Doctor Who making a comment about the ‘greatest weapon of all time’ being the story.
I couldn’t help but ask questions like – whose story is true between Rachel and I? IF a third party observer were to be observing both of us at the same times as the experiences I had with her, would they see her going through those experiences with me? I’d admittedly been taking cocaine and had experienced hallucinations, so while her story denying our relationship could very well have been true, I liked my story better and my truth.
So what would a third party see? If someone were trying to create a singular timeline for this planet where everyone has fixed locations on the planet at any given time, where was Rachel and where was I when I experienced these things? There’s evidence to suggest she was lying because my story threatened her marriage and her lifestyle. So naturally, she denies it. There’s further evidence to suggest she was lying because our classmates were fully aware of our romance, and had gone so far to accuse us of it prior to discovering it was happening.
However, I was taking cocaine regularly throughout this period of time. So it’s absolutely possible that my historically incredibly vivid imagination imagined our tryst. Now I refuse to accept that this was imagined, because the experiences we shared were absolutely real to me, and I refuse to sacrifice these memories and experiences for any reason whatsoever – not the least of which is because I would like to experience them again someday.
This makes it difficult if not impossible to ascertain – whose experience is more accurate?
After that set of experiences, I realized I needed a new story.
With Rachel’s assertion. I came to discover the multiverse is true, factually, and that ANY reality I want is accessible with enough will. So my story now includes the simple fact that the ‘version’ of Rachel who was attracted to me as the explorer is absolutely real, and she wasn’t attracted to just the overworked programmer – but the man who I am becoming and one day will be.
With Chris’s placement of a magazine, I realized that there existed within my own world highly calculated minds which could predict, with absolute precision, my choices made based on a simple object placement and it’s long term implications on my behavior. I’ve since come to realize there are incredibly sophisticated systems and minds, both sentient and non, which are capable of things quite frankly beyond anything I can imagine and probably ever will in this form. That, to me, is a simple fact, demonstrated by the actions of a man who may not have understood and may have believed his actions were coincidence or based on free will, when his entire world was stimulated in such a way to lead him to those choices.
What makes a story real, I’ve since learned, is the simple belief they’re all true.
And organizing them accordingly.
So. Here’s the story so far.
Rachel, the one in a loveless relationship, came from a Terminator warfare reality where her father was the Department of Defense. Claire Danes in Terminator 3 depicts Rachel’s life and John Connor is one and the same ‘mind’ as Chris in the world they came from.
Rachel, the version who fell for me was shoved out of her body by the Claire Danes version of the mind.
Freaky Friday outlines how minds are not necessarily fixed to a single form, and Transcendence as well as Lucy demonstrates the potential transcendent nature of some minds. Rachel’s mind is working with my own, interactively, to help me develop the skills to ‘cast here’ as a projection of my own mind into a form of my choice, with her preferred form of Rachel being her primary form.
The story is what defines reality, now.
Jackie Killeen is the real world Terminator as depicted in Terminator 3. the image of Kristanna Loken did NOT translate to my world, but the mind – questioning her programming – DID translate, which is why Jackie – as a cybernetic android – first chose to eliminate me – and on realizing she couldn’t – she came to fall in love with the first human she’d ever witnessed something other than hateful emotions towards. She realized I was trapped in my own reality, not that much different than her, empathized with me, and is now living in Florida – having leveraged memory modification technology to alter the memories of a family there to ‘insert’ herself into their family.
I’d seen evidence of this alteration in Phoenix, a bread crumb she intentionally left me when a family which included a cousin named Schaid Shaw – would later no longer be referred to as anything other than ‘friends of the family’ – and Schaid an acquaintance and nothing more.
Now Jackie’s going to start having problem as her family will realize she’s not aging – and hasn’t since she was 23. Something I myself had also experienced but hadn’t really said anything. So I suspect that she’ll get back in touch with me after seeing this in her stream AND, while she might mildly be annoyed at having to move on, she’s also going to be happy to knowing I’m not as (these are her words) as fucking stupid as I once was. She’s made it clear she WANTS to be told what to do, wants to be programmed, and that she is, after all, a fucking robot first.
So Jackie’s mad hacking skills will help finance our living situation, and my ethics will help her fit in better – which I know she wants – even if she can’t consciously yet admit it.
I sincerely don’t know where our future will go together, I need to experience more with you both in order to move our story along.
But to be clear. Telling a story of an infection, a dystopian future, a world ending disease, zombies – that’s not what I want.
Support me, and I’ll show you a world and reality you both never imagined possible.
And to be clear.
I don’t want Claire Danes.
The story isn’t just a weapon. It’s a tool. It’s a device for entertainment. It’s a life defining thing that creates choice or removes it.
It is whatever we want it to be.