I had a bunch more stuff to say on random subjects so this is the ‘annex’ post.
MySpace Sucks
I can’t get onto MySpace anymore, because I’m using the library computers, and MySpace wants me to update the browser before I can even LOOK at the page, and I don’t have the authority to update the library’s browsers. I can’t even CHOOSE between ‘view the old MySpace here’ and the new page. You’re just forced to go to the new browser-challenging page, or nothing at all. This angers me. I like simple HTML web pages that ANY browser can view. You go there for a purpose, and the purpose is NOT to see advertisements written in the latest, heaviest, slowest, bulkiest, most complicated programming languages available.
I only got onto MySpace in the first place because my ex-boyfriend’s daughter used it, years ago, and she wanted me to get my own page. So I did it for her. Then, my old classmates from West Virginia started finding me there. But I don’t like web pages that have so many graphics and ads, because I usually use a slow dialup connection. I want basic, simple web pages where you go there to DO something, not watch big complicated cartoons and advertisements and movie previews playing.
So I keep hearing voices telling me that my MySpace page has the wrong instinctual stacking listed for my personality type. I think that the last time I updated it, I might have written sp/sx as my type. I’m not even sure that I have the instinctual type there at all, and I can’t even VIEW the page with this browser anymore.
Well, so, the last couple days, they started telling me that actually, sp/sx really IS the correct type, and all the other ones that I’ve been writing about are wrong. It’s impossible to know, because there are false personas forcing me to be someone I’m not, all the time. Many of the words that I’ve written over all these years have been lies that were told by the false personas, and they don’t represent the things that I’m interested in, the things that I value, the goals I want to achieve, the things that are important to me.
Something they’ve been mentioning again in the past few days: (This happened months and months and months ago, but they were reminding me about it.) Martin mocked the ‘I’m getting tired of this’ letter as though he had RECEIVED that letter FROM ME. Meanwhile, I received that letter from someone claiming to be him, someone who sounded like a nagging old lady. I’d have to read it again, but it was this big warning, supposedly from him, that he was ‘getting tired of this’ and ‘I really will call the police’ or something, blah blah blah. Martin was taking photos of things that came from letters he had received from me. Some of them were letters that I actually had sent (yes, I wrote something about a photo of myself giving someone the middle finger), but he did a photo of himself climbing into a pile of spare tires, as though mocking a letter I had sent him. I didn’t send that – I RECEIVED that letter from his address. I haven’t looked at his page in months and months and months, since I started using the library computers, so right now, I have no idea what’s going on.
I’m trying to remember some of the other random things I was going to mention. I was going to say something about the cloak. I wore it while walking down the street in the middle of the night, when the ice sculptures were sitting there still covered up, the night before First Night.
Some drunk people (I assume they were drunk) were on the opposite side of the street. A guy saw me in the dim light, and shouted, ‘Frodo!’ His friends started laughing. I smiled at them but didn’t know what to say. He shouted it again, ‘Frodo! Where’s Sam?’ I said, ‘I’m sorry, I’m not Frodo.’ But he insisted. ‘Where’s Sam? You can’t abandon Sam! Don’t leave him!’
I said, ‘I’ve always been loyal to Sam!’ This satisfied him, and he and his friends relaxed, and they said a couple other things, still laughing, and walked away.
So the cloak is recognized as an elven-cloak of Lorien, at least in dim light from across the street. And I’m five foot two, maybe short enough to be a hobbit.
I’m guessing it was a puppet incident and that he was given the idea to call me Frodo, and it probably wasn’t his own idea.
I’m pretending to be, not a hobbit, but Arwen the elf. The elves had a problem of not producing enough children, and their race was slowly dying off, even though they had very long lives. Arwen stayed with Aragorn after she had a vision of her future child.
I see myself as a different instinctual type depending on what mood I’m in, and when I’m in the Arwen mood, I see myself as sp/sx. That’s what type she looks like, to me. ‘Mystic, mate, quiet supporter.’
I know there are more things I was going to say, so I will log in again when this session ends.
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