Professor Normal

JOURNAL ARCHIVE: Posted by H.V.O.M at 9:07 AM Sunday, March 18, 2012


I remember writing about something similar in my private journal on my private internet-connected firewall-enabled Microsoft Windows personal computer back when I lived in that apartment in Kent Washington State in the first half of the year 2005.

I remember I was writing in my journal about my questions about how scientists could depend on their methods of measuring the size of the universe. I had read a little about it and I wondered how those measurements were affected by the bending of light as it traveled through the universe and especially at those extreme distances. If gravity bends light then how can you measure the shift of the wavelength and use that to determine distance? That was what I was wondering about in my notes. Thinking about it more I wonder if it matters though. I can think of some reasons why it might not matter. I don't know. I don't work in that field.

So anyway, I was also thinking again about how I went to the police department in the City of Kent Washington to complain about Microsoft stealing my identity and of how I was falsely imprisoned in the mental health unit for three days at St. Francis Hospital in Federal Way Washington.

They drugged me secretly right from the start so my willful consent is completely destroyed right there, right from the start. I was just expecting to talk.


[JOURNAL ARCHIVE 18 March 2012 excerpt ends]










http://www.chakoteya.net/movies/movie7.html

Star Trek Generations


(Soran is studying Geordi's VISOR)

SORAN: Marvellous technology. This is a remarkable piece of equipment.

LAFORGE: I'm glad you approve.

SORAN: Not very stylish though is it? ...Have you ever considered a prosthesis that would make you look a little more, ...how can I say? ...More normal.

LAFORGE: What's normal?

SORAN: What's normal? Well, that's a good question. Normal is what everyone else is, and you are not.

LAFORGE: Why don't we just get down to it? What do you want?

SORAN: As you may or may not be aware, I am an El-Aurian. Some people call us a race of 'listeners'. We listen. Right now, Mister La Forge, you have my complete attention. I want to listen to everything you know about trilithium.










http://www.chakoteya.net/movies/movie7.html

Star Trek Generations


[Bird-of-Prey bridge]

LURSA: Did you get anything from the human?

SORAN: No. His heart just wasn't in it.










JOURNAL ARCHIVE: posted by H.V.O.M at 6:54 PM Saturday, September 03, 2005


Miles to go before I sleep

My trip to Gas Works Park wasn’t the first time I made a date with a bridge. To date it has been the last. I have become quite the expert on west coast bridges thanks to the internet. When I first made the decision to end my suffering, I didn’t yet know how I would do it. I had several ideas. One was just to cut my wrists. Another was carbon monoxide poisoning. I don’t have any guns so that was out, although it was the method I would be most confident about being fatal. There were some days early this year when I would have certainly used a gun on myself, it was just that painful to me feeling like I had no privacy. One of the first days when it was really excrutiating to me, this feeling that I had no privacy, I started writing about it in my journal. I was losing it. After a while I abruptly decided to just leave and go drive around for a while. As soon as I walked out of my apartment, a van with markings on it indicating it was from some mental health hospital turned the corner and drove right by me. You just can't tell me that was a coincidence. I had been seeing too many things like that happen, like the purple van. I don't know if some bonehead was try to "send me a message" like some moron that doesn't know how to talk, but all it did was reinforce the feelings that people were following and watching me. It also reinforced something else I had learned. Every time I caught them off-guard they screwed up just enough to give me some new clue. If not for that, I probably never would have noticed them. Eventually I became consumed with being unpredictable. But that also produced a lot of stress and anguish. All this anguish I was feeling was from the pressure of all these people watching me from the shadows. I have completely lost my private life. I feel like even my dreams are manipulated. I have seen too many examples to prove that loss of privacy.

So eventually I settled on jumping off a bridge. Something about drowning seemed like a fitting way to go out. I thought about just walking into Lake Coeur d’Alene and just hold myself under the water, but I decided against it. I had given that method of dying a lot of thought in the years following an incident where the Iranians nearly sunk us with an anti-ship missile in the Persian Gulf and from the months of wondering daily if we were going to silently run into an anti-ship mine just like our fellow ship experienced halfway through our deployment and from the distant thumping sound of countermeasures launching when an enemy fire control radar scanned us and from the unmistakeable machinery noises of the missiles going to the rails at any hour of the day or night while I lied there staring in the semi-dark at the ceiling of my coffin-like bunk six inches from my face wondering if the next sound I heard would be the sound of our missile igniting or whether it would be the sound of a bulkhead exploding from the impact of a missile on us or whether I would just hear nothing at all. The only bridge I knew about was the Golden Gate Bridge in S.F. I started researching it and found a lot of information about it and I was convinced the jump would be fatal, either from the direct impact or because it would knock me out long enough to drown.

So I left my apartment to drive down there and get it over with. But first I decided to stop out at my favorite little resort city of Coeur d’Alene because I have such good memories there of the Ironman triathlons I have been in. I was also going to stop about halfway out there in the middle of Washington state and look at some cliffs I had read about. Maybe those would work. I found some, but I wasn’t sure about it. I could just see myself jumping and then lying there in the sun for a few days with a broken back and vultures pecking at my eyes. Later I would reflect to myself that the problem with cliffs is you don’t know you are at one until you are looking over the edge. So I keep traveling and stopped in CDA, going down to sit by the city beach where the Ironman swim starts. And then the weird stuff starts happening again. I am completely absorbed in my problems, but then I start seeing weird things happen. I count four distinct groups of people that I can tell know who I am. Their behavior is a direct result of me being there. I had been so absorbed that it caught me by surprise to see what these people were doing. As I was driving away later, I would think more about it. And I realized what was happening. They were staging something around me and someone else was taking pictures of it from behind me. I have noticed a pattern of people taking pictures of my back. Here is a link to a photo of me in a 2003 triathlon where you can only see my back. I am the one on the very right edge, second from the top. I am mostly submerged in the photo but there is enough there for me to recognize. Even at that time I had a strong suspicion that people out there knew who I was. I think this picture may have been the one that started the trend because I made note of it when I saw it.

So that just gave me more reason to keep driving and get this over with. This is insanity. I am nobody. Why does it feel like people know who I am? I feel like I have crashed on to The Planet of the Apes. Then something else happened. I had crossed the state line into Oregon and I was heading west along the interstate making my way to the Portland area where I would turn south. I was in Oregon, it was night, and I stopped at this convenience store. There were two people behind the counter and one made a strange comment to another that I initially dismissed but then it started gnawing on me as I was driving. One asked the other something about whether she wanted to help somebody or another. The other replied that she “didn’t care”. I thought about that a long time because something about it was nagging me. And then again I realized they knew who I was. I had no idea where I was, I had never even driven through that area, I couldn’t even pick it out again on a map, it was just a random stop I made at some store, but yet these people know who I am. It is staggeringly insane. I am Truman freakin’ Burbank. So I thought more about those comments. I realized that they knew who I was, they knew I was on my way to die, and in response to a question about giving me any help, the answer is “I don’t care.” That really hurt. Even after all this anguish I had been feeling, something new would come along and teach me another lesson about pain.

I would keep thinking about it more but I later reached a different conclusion. Maybe they didn’t actually know where I was going. Maybe they didn’t know my plans. They knew who I was but they didn’t know what I was planning to do. They thought I was just taking a road trip to try to clear my head or something. I was still a trivial person to them in the sense of leaving me alone, concern for my private life was just a triviality, but maybe what the other person meant was that she didn’t care about my private life. She was trying to express that she objected to the way I was being treated and she didn’t want to participate in it. Later, when I was near Portland and literally at another crossroads, going south meant death, turning north meant going back to my apartment to continue looking for clues that would steer me out of this tormenting experience, it was that alternative interpretation of her comments that made me turn north, along with another reason I will describe later. I had to give it a lot of deliberation because I was almost out of money and if I wanted to go south again, I would have to do it on foot.

That wasn’t the last time someone’s behavior influenced me into not jumping. Something like that happened early into my journey to Gas Works Park. But I’ll write about that later. There are some other details about that trip through Oregon that I want to describe, but I’ll save that for later too. This is exhausting. I have been fighting with this for years now. I just wish I could get back to work and feel again like I am making a difference. Only then can I get back into my Ironman triathlon pursuits. I was planning to complete at least one Ironman triathlon every year until I get too old to finish one. That is the good life for me. This, today, these past few years, is just torture. What have I become? Who am I? Is this all happening because I have become The Runaway Geek?


[JOURNAL ARCHIVE 03 September 2005 excerpt ends]










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Waterworld [ RACKETEER INFLUENCED AND CORRUPT ORGANIZATIONS US Title 18 ]


Shouldn't be doing that. You're gonna get in trouble.
Ha. That's right.
You're not afraid. You've got your pet freak comin' to rescue you.
He's not a freak, and he can take you anytime.



- posted by H.V.O.M - Kerry Wayne Burgess 7:20 PM Pacific Time Seattle USA Monday 10 June 2013