This is what happened to me yesterday, on March 22, 2013.
To people who aren’t familiar with the other of this blog, who know nothing about me even, my name is Daniel. I’m a Christian, logician, rock collector and I think of myself as a freelance Internet teacher, as in I teach through the Internet. Among my various disabilities I have dyscalculia and near severe psoriasis on my scalp. I have a bio where you can read more about me in general and why this journal exists, here. I’ve made many attempts at attempting to be a successful author, but due to a devastating burglary in about 2010 and many other misfortunes afterwards, including more thefts, and various corrupt people I would encounter making life extremely difficult for me by stealing from, sabotaging or harassing me (I had some cyber stalkers stalking me for 5 years) my plans for publishing some books on religion, logic, science and history never happened. When, in about 2011, I began being harassed by certain mentally ill neighbors again, and bully apartment management and a bully maintenance man, and bully neighbors (two of which had narcissism disorder) and bullied out and harassed of the apartment by them, which also included landlord retaliation, I was worn down, including by the stress of dealing with a dad with narcissism disorder who made things worse for me while forcing me to move rather than fight the harassment in court, as he usually did.
My dad would always oppose me when it came to fighting such harassment, regardless of who it came from, because, as a narcissist, he wanted me to be in complete agreement with him, even his insane reasoning, and me having rather tended to want to be perfectly logical, couldn’t tolerate his illogical statements and wishes, and would politely often disagree, and he would go into a tantrum over it often, and then I would get upset too, and 99.9% of the time, as with all narcissists, he would simply blame me as the one who was doing the arguing (as if mere argument is bad, and in my case he wanted me to believe that any arguing against him was bad but that he could do no wrong). Because of that, my dad had an especially resentful attitude towards me, repeatedly saying I was unthankful for anything he did for me (it’s a childish bully tactic and mindset that narcissists have that they resort to making such accusations). And since I wouldn’t be in complete agreement with him, or not often, he welcomed such bullying against me because to him that confirmed that he was in the right, and that that showed that because I couldn’t supposedly get along with anyone, or the police (as he claimed often in his arrogance, anger, assuming, or delusion) that therefore that showed I was wrong to argue with him too. That put my books on hold, especially when a police officer with a malicious neighbor, a dad, made false accusations against me and got another dad to join in. I hid those books away so that they couldn’t be stolen, and they are still hidden away. When I moved nearby, I unfortunately had put myself under evil management. Sigh.
Soon after I started finding incredibly beautiful rocks at about the time I had planned on publishing them. But in the past three or four months the apartment management, Brenda Camacho and Ally, and the maintenance supervisor of Mesa Club apartments, Alex, harassed and bullied me and Brenda and the corporation over her illegally evicted me without an emergency reason and improperly (Brenda pretended to have given me a five day notice before giving me a 24 hour summary eviction). I found a large amount of irreplaceable and very beautiful fossils, druzy rocks, and fluorescent ones, and what appear to be pseudomorphs (minerals that replaced the original minerals of other rocks, for example gypsum replacing quarts and other odd specimens which turned out very beautiful and unique looking. As a result of Brenda’s harassment, I made a camp in the desert nearby preparing to become homeless as no tenant lawyer would help me since they wanted $300 an hour, and I could only pay for two hours in a month, and one tenant lawyer wanted $5000 down despite me letting him know I had clearly documented evidence of harassment, landlord retaliation and an illegal eviction. Brenda had gone so far as to allow two unknown strangers to enter my apartment and throw away an enormous amount of the rocks I collected, which would have included the types I mentioned and beautiful decorative rocks in addition to that meant for terrariums and aquariums and as display pieces on tables or shelves.
I knew that is what she did, because there were witnesses who saw them take things out of my apartment and directly throw them into the dumpster. A noise maker and guy who harassed me for months, who lived below me, who broke into my apartment (and he was never evicted for it despite Brenda claiming he was), he had been woken up at 8 AM by the noise and confirmed he saw these men throwing my things out. Another who lived near the dumpster where these men were throwing my things out was so upset by the noise that he wrote down the license plate number of the truck they were using. And two homeless people who regularly dumpster dive at Mesa Club Apartments, both of whom hate me, even they admitted to seeing two mystery men going into my apartment, and that soon after saw an enormous amount of rocks in the dumpsters and one of the homeless people, a female, said she saw the rocks strewn about on the ground below them in addition to being in the dumpster.
I found some of them and found some that were even outside of the dumpster behind it. That is how hateful Brenda can be, in that she will personally go out of her way to drive a knife into you, at least in my case. When I called on March 22 to arrange for a time to retrieve my items, she advised I come the next day at 8:30 AM to start getting my stuff out, and said I had till 4:30 PM. But she didn’t open the door at that time, and so I ended up wondering what to do since she said I was banned from the office even while living there legally, with my rent fully paid off and not in violation of the lease in any way, and that I wasn’t allowed to talk to the office, but could only talk to their legal department. I wondered if I should go to Fox News and scare her into giving me the full amount of time she was supposed to give me by their inquiring of why she was harassing me and bullying me and breaking the law, especially when I repeatedly told her I was disabled and even showed them proof in their fourth inspection by putting my medicaid card on my bed which Ally or however he name is spelled, photographed it. I wondered if I should call 311 for help. And I wondered if I should have gone to one of my acquaintances among which was an elderly “vet” who would beat his dog when he would run out to me to greet and lick me when he’d take the dog to poop out in the desert. This man had narcissism disorder and yet adamantly claimed to be a Christian, which is a contradiction in a way since a Christian is supposed to love everyone equally, especially other Christians, however narcissists think of themselves as superior to everyone else or almost everyone else, and he is always insulting me. And he was almost always home, because of his bad leg, but I knew it was also because of his bad personality, and had formerly been a severe alcoholic. I did go to him, and got more insults from him, including, “I don’t want to see anymore of you today” and “I don’t want to be bothered”. Great Christian huh? But he did give me some needed help, even if begrudgingly when other neighbors wouldn’t open their doors, or wouldn’t talk to me, or purely insulted me like this one Mexican alcoholic noise maker there who walks his German shepherd around often, who goes out in public drunk. That man was so evil that when I informed him his bike was stolen (I saw it earlier and saw the cable was cut and thrown on the sidewalk nearby, and called the police when he wouldn’t) that he blamed me in public for stealing his bike, and asked if I had drugs on me. I asked him eventually, “Are you drunk” and he was but wouldn’t say. And then I asked him, “What would you have had me do, not tell you what happened?” And his reply was a sad sounding, “Yes.” And on the 22nd, after having moved out the bulk of my property from my apartment, with the exception of two couches and a bed, I encountered him, drunk outside again, with his usual prideful smirk, and again began insulting me, telling me not to live out in the desert, asking me various things that led to me telling him I was disabled and getting disability income,, and him immediately responding with, “It’s not good to leech off the system,” as if he knew what I’d been through, how bad my disabilities were, whether I was deserving or not, and if he wouldn’t take social security money when he got it and as if I’d never worked or had no intention of working, or never made any money legitimately and was an unhelpful person like himself. He then said, “How old are you? Twenty two, twenty eight?” Obviously asking to somehow shame me and perhaps follow up with, “You’re this old now and still don’t work (for money)? What’s your excuse?” And then said, “You lift up large rocks, I’ve seen you” as if I can do that nonstop or had and that my disability prevented me from lifting anything heavy. I told him I planned on putting the rocks I found and bought in a museum and he asked, “Oh which museum?” I replied, “They aren’t in a museum yet,” and he replied, “Why not? Which museum are you going to put them in?” or something very close to that, and I replied, “My museum.” And then he gave a “good luck you.” I noticed the somewhat old woman he was talking to was completely silent and drinking alcohol from a glass with him. In the past he used to blast his stereo well past ten, so loudly, it could be heard at the other end of the apartment complex. This wasn’t a person who appeared to have any friends, but just people he’d be around now and then due to where he lived. The closest thing he had to a wife was his dog. I know some of you may be thinking, “Maybe he’s just bitter about some tragedy in his life and is taking it out on you and others,” but a narcissist is also bitter because of being told off even in a good way as a child and due to how they were raised, becoming deeply resentful at that criticism, rebuke or what they merely felt was some great and unjust humiliation, perhaps knowing it was just but being in denial over it due to being raised to think they could do no wrong or deserved whatever they wanted. It’s hard to have compassion on someone who hates you for helping them, then almost a year later of not talking to you, seeing you are a hard worker, then insults you for being a leech, and as if he’s paying any great amount of money and that it’s all going to me. I did notice he said, “off the system” rather than “off me” or “us” as in the woman he was with too to try and pull her into his attack on me, regardless, he left me out of this “system”, as if I put no taxes back into it and as if I in some way was able to live a tax-free life. I had at total of at least five neighbors with narcissism disorder at Mesa Club, not all who lived near me, and none were as smug as him. He was an exceptionally bad one, who couched his hate in a smile. There were an additional three homeless ones out in the desert, one of them, Virgil, an alcoholic who even when not drunk loved to shout “kid toucher” and “pedophile” at me in the hearing of the residents in order to ruin my reputation with the residents there and to try and get me killed. And that was after having helped him in the previous apartment I lived at, having let him sleep over and hang out a few time at my place to smoke and charge his laptop and batteries. He hated me when I asked if he’d be quiet while I was talking on the phone, because, rather than going into a well cleaned and organized room I prepared for him to be alone in peace, instead would watch a movie on his large laptop loudly, and I had asked him to politely be quiet. The look on his face when I said that was one of, “Man you’re bothering me again?” I had never “bothered” this person ever however. And then his hate had apparently become extreme when one day I wouldn’t wash his clothing. I had a strong hint something was wrong with him when he first charged his laptop at my apartment, while sitting down, and me asking about his family situation, told me that his brother didn’t want him around because, Virgil’s brother said, “You’re a destructive person, and that if he caught him around he’d call the police.” Some might wonder why a narcissist, a vain person would admit to that, but a narcissist who doesn’t think he’ll get attention by being good, because he desires much attention, will then try and get it by pointing out how bad he is, or Virgil told me this in order to gain sympathy from me, perhaps hoping I’d think his brother was wrong since Virgil was still being nice to me at that time. To me, that Mexican neighbor who was insulting to me was as bad as Virgil, but was self-controlled or wealthy enough to not end up homeless, despite also being an alcoholic.
Virgil’s harassment at Mesa Club had worn me down a greatly, and made my psoriasis much worse (psoriasis flares up from stress). One morning, when Virgil and Josh were headed for Mesa Club, to walk through the parking lot again as they usually do, he saw me with a neighbor I just met who offered to cut and polish the stones I found into jewelry. But Virgil scared him off by shouting, “Kid toucher!” at me. And very strangely, a neighbor had come out of no where and put his hand on my bike, even touching one of my hands a little, and when I was holding a hatchet in my other hand (I was using it to try to split rocks or cut wood to make a campsite), and this stranger holding a drill in one of his, this stranger said, “I love a good fight! Come on man (he said to Virgil), he’s not going anywhere.” And then the stranger looked at me and said, “You’ve got a hatchet, but I’ve got a gun” and I’m not sure, but seemed to make a pathetic motion with the free hand as if to indicate he had a gun tucked in the back of his pants. But the third neighbor I ever had while living in Mesa Club Apartments, an alcoholic narcissist too, had used that trick on me once to fool me into thinking he was about to shoot my dad, so this time, it didn’t phase me, and this crazy guy did a poor fake-out on top of that as he showed a little fear about my hatchet. I then said to him, “Don’t ever touch me again,” and to my amazement, he got an amazed look on his face, like, “What, you don’t want to fight, and you’re mad at me instead?” And what was this stranger thinking, that he could force me to fight with a drill or his imaginary gun. And if I was a violent person, why would he think I might not chop him down, literally? Some days, maybe months later, when I mentioned that stranger to “schizotypal” Josh, he too was amazed at how he came up to me and boldly with excitement blocked my path the way he did. I never did find out how that man was. I wondered if he was high on meth when he came out to stop me.
Due to Brenda’s harassing me, which was greatly working up my dad, and causing arguments between us, I prepared a fourth campsite, one nearby so that after I moved out my property, could then move out quickly to another place. And Brenda did, as I feared, scare my dad off the lease. He had been paying my rent and utilities, which I couldn’t afford. It went past $800, even though all I had was a substandard one bedroom apartment with a crumby view due to the refuse and ugly desert marring the decent scenery. In addition to that because Brenda wouldn’t do her job and trespass the harassers, like Virgil and six tenants who had harassed me after Virgil worked them up into paranoia (and they worked each other up into a paranoia), made it much less worth living there. Because of all that it was more worth $359 in my opinion. The first two tenants who had harassed me, an obese couple with a little boy, were clear narcissists. They were so hateful they ended up breaking up, with the woman kicking out the man very loudly and hatefully, and I managed to record on audio a little of the break up. Unfortunately it started when I was far out in the desert, so I didn’t record the part where the woman said to her husband or boyfriend, “I’ve supported you all this time and you’ve treated me like shit!” I think she said it twice even. And he didn’t reply back with but a few whispered replies in a shamed tone. He wouldn’t even look up, and despite being tall and muscular (at that time, either a little before the fourth of July or a little after he had become “buff”). I think his name was “Bob”. I remember the license plate of the woman was 9MYTIME, and she drove a black 4×4. It was fitting what happened to him because he in a worse way, by adding to what Virgil did, and so did the woman, as in extending what Virgil said, tried to get me killed to and said to one girl who had been walking with me, “He’s a bad man,” and scared her off. Later I heard Bob say to the police something like, “She said he was talking to her, but she said, ‘I’m not going to say,'” and he said it with a mocking voice, as in was mocking how she replied, as if Bob were a brat 6 year old angry that she wouldn’t tell him. Sadly that recording has probably been deleted, unless the police stored it in order to somehow make a case against me one day as a child abuser. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did. And don’t assume I think all police are bad, I know for a fact not all are corrupt or rather, as God might say, “Some police try to right, but often failed.” For example, one who showed up on the day I was moving out of Mesa Club, near the end of my time or past it (Brenda reneged on giving me till 4:30 PM as I’d signed on a paper, and instead gave me till 4), and he was the only one, told her I had 30 days to remove my property, so she said aloud, “Monday at 8:30 AM”. If she is more evil than I think, then she’ll even go against what she said in the hearing of the police, as she did today, after having told them I had till 4:30, now that I think about it.
I ended up being forced to live near in order to move my property out quickly (which would have been much harder, especially being disabled when it came to direction finding and my ability to walk on flat ground without my foot muscles tearing soon after from doing so had I chosen to live farther away or hidden in some awkward place to live, like some mythical troll). I also had two neighbors with IQ’s a little below normal, one of whom was a compulsive liar, another who was carelessly insulting and admittedly lazy, and despite that, advising me on where and telling me I should move my property way out somewhere else in the desert, as if I were Superman, full of limitless energy and invincible to pain. Another advised I do that too, and he seemed to be a narcissist but he never did make any direct insult to me verbally, but was very cold, arrogant acting and seemed to enjoy yelling at his dogs more than paying attention to me. He seemed to have some deep seated anger problem. I noticed when I first met him he said he didn’t drive, but biked, and showed me the big calve muscles he had, but not more than a few days later I saw him driving around in a truck, one he said he’d use to help me move out, but reneged on due to his wife criticizing him about helping me, a stranger, and as far as I remember gave no explanation for the contradiction. He was however happy to give me inside info about the staff, and was quick to acknowledge what was obvious harassment towards me by Brenda. Not all narcissists will deny what’s obvious, but, I really don’t know if he was one. I think he was just very bitter about life, but hid it well with smiles. I got the impression he was a false Christian, but I barely know anything about him. I think if I gave him a great gift, it might change his outlook very much in life.
So, on the 22nd of March, as I was saying earlier, but veered away from with tangent stories, I had been wondering what to do. I had decided to walk to Fox News to get the most impact, knowing time was running out quickly, but then I saw this certain maintenance man repeatedly driving by, starring at me while I was talking to this bitter guy I mentioned, starring at me through his car, which was creepy to me. So the bitter guy drove off after a little chat with him, some of which I mentioned here. Then I saw a police car driving through, so I thought, “I’ll talk to him and get my apartment unlocked and then go to Fox news.” Instead, about four policeman came, harassed me a little over me recording with my camera what was going on under the pretense of it not being needed since they already had theirs and to keep the peace. And one, apparently lying, also claimed they had a witness I broke into my apartment, and that “with some research I’m sure I can find out who he is and then I’d have to arrest you” if I didn’t start moving my things out in the 2 hours I had left. When I told him that was against the law, as in to rush me out like that, he said, “That’s a civil matter.” The police are supposed to record audio while talking to you, and it’s kept for 90 days, so, a more accurate version of what was said can be heard I think.
Brenda pretended that she knew nothing about the two mystery men who went into my apartment that I told the police about. And when she finally unlocked my door, and still prevented me from simply going right in, but rather let the maintenance supervisor, Alex, in first to take pictures while the door was closed, and yelling at me for recording with my camera, still denied knowing anything about it, and instead said, “Do you know how many times this apartment was broken into and the door left open? Three times, recently!” Very soon after she reneged on the form she had me sign giving me till 4:30 PM, and verbally said, “I was wrong, you have till 4.” Her saying that just added to me shock of what I saw when I went into my apartment, I felt like my head was a bell and I’d been hit with a large hammer on my bell of a head.
Why would these men, if they were simply thieves, target to steal (or throw away): pumpkins on my deck and a cactus? And why target bags of heavy loads of rocks, chairs in my deck when the things of value, also stolen, were my electronics, (like my camera, laptop, speakers, and computer monitor) and the rocks that clearly stood out as beautiful. Why go for bags and that would take a huge amount of time to go through and throw them straight away into the dumpster, along with my clothing, as the homeless people said they saw thrown away with these rocks? In addition to that, why throw some of my very large beautiful rocks that weren’t hidden in bags out into the desert, where I found them? Is that what thieves do, make noise everyone will hear during the day and waste time chucking large rocks out of a deck for people to see and possibly get hit with? I noticed two of my large shiny heavy yet portable computer speakers, were lying near my bed. Why would thieves ignore those and target extremely heavy bags of rocks, not to steal, BUT TO TRASH? DO THIEVES CARE ABOUT DUMPING ROCKS INTO A DUMPSTER. DOES THAT MAKE THEFT EASY?
I met some kind strangers at night on the 22nd, by the Smith’s nearby, one named Robert, and I can’t remember the girl’s name who encouraged him to help me a little. They had a truck, which is what I needed to move out quickly and efficiently, which is why I started talking to them. I met them after much searching who helped me move my remaining property to a safer location, but this was at about 11:20 PM, after I was now super exhausted and in pain and very thirsty, and not having eaten during the rush-out. It had mentally severely wrecked me to have had to remove all my remaining property out in less than two hours, a very, very heavy amount, and it was more like less than an hour of time since much of it I had spent trying to get through to Nevada Legal Aid, unsuccessfully since 555-1212 Information operators kept giving me the wrong number (I had to go to their website which a disabled neighbor helped me out with) in order to find out how to fight a false claim that I only had 2 hours to move my property out, and it was a Friday, and the court and legal helpers, including attorney’s wouldn’t be open till Monday, so I was desperately going around trying to get neighbors to call them and find out for me, but many wouldn’t open their doors, or weren’t home, or had to tend to something, only a disabled woman in a wheel chair helped me successfully with that as she let me get on her laptop to look up the right number. I forget what apartment she was in, but God may bless her for her help.
Near the end of the time Brenda gave me to move out, actually over the time, Brenda stood in front of my apartment with her arms crossed, like some sort of hard gym teacher, and the supervisor Alex crouched next to her, watching me. I told her she was a bully and what she was doing was illegal and asked her why she didn’t open my door at 8:30 like she said she would, and she said, “You weren’t here? Why didn’t you go to the office and tell me?” I told her I already called her, so why would I have to do anything else? she replied, “So don’t tell me what to do.” She also mocked me saying, “On your knees” when I argued with the maintenance man over his disrespectful attitude towards me. And for some weird reason he kept shouting at me, “Don’t say my name!” even though I didn’t find out his name till around 10 PM. I think they all suspected they were being recorded, and he didn’t want his name being mentioned. Brenda also gloated, “Where’s your attorney?” even though I never said I had one. I replied, “You know they’re all on the other side, because that’s where the money is, not with the tenants.” And she had no reply. I noticed that Brenda and Alex moved far away when I had this exchange with Alex. Alex shouted, “Just get your shit off my property!” and perhaps told me to shut up first, and I replied, “This isn’t your property,” and he replied, “It’s more mine than yours, you’re evicted,” and I replied, “I was illegally evicted,” and he replied, “I’m not apart of the process.” I also called him a dupe and a new world order slave (that’s when Brenda said to me, “On your knees”, while I was nearly on them), because he bought Brenda’s claim that the guy who broke in was evicted. I said, “Does he look like he’s evicted?” And Alex threw a littler tantrum over that, and that’s when he started saying, “Don’t say my name.” He also said, “I’m religious!” and “Don’t you think I have feelings?” “I feel for you man,” and “I’m just doing my job,” and I replied, “You didn’t have to come into my apartment,” and he gave no response to that. And soon after getting my stuff out, and searching for help to move it, April and Virgil were already there trying to steal from me, and Virgil becoming paranoid showed he stolen some amber from me, and he knew what it was to my surprise, surprised because I thought he was very ignorant. He started repeatedly claiming I had kimberlite, which is sometimes a sign of diamonds beings around, which was an absurd claim, but he apparently was trying to get me to admit to having found diamonds, which I didn’t except maybe one exception, but I’m not sure. Later April claimed he took it merely to upset me and would have given it back later. Yeah, right. He gave it back and failed to steal from me because I got there in time and the suspected I was recording them as usual and saw other neighbors were near their decks watching. Virgil kept arguing with me all the way back to my camp, trying to pretend to be a nobel guy, trying to justify his going through my things and stealing from me, admitting to having slandered me to the residents there (which ruined my reputation among some of the tenants there and deeply tainted others so that no relationship could be made). Virgil at one point shouted to me, “You’re a narcissist” out of the blue, thinking he was being recorded, as if I had no other recordings of me pointing out that he was one before that and that he was simply parroting me to make it appear as if he was giving the first and just diagnosis and that he saying I was one “first” would put him in the right and make me the parrot. So, yes, he is stupid. Virgil even admitted to stealing my tent at that time (which exhausted me trying to get back, with the police repeatedly refusing to help me get it back, even with the regular scare tactics they use on me, like claiming they had a witness to me breaking into my apartment so they could move on to their next mission). And all that struggling to get my tent back sapped so much of my energy I failed to make it to court on time to “stay” the 24 hour eviction notice I had even reported Virgil and his partner Josh somewhat near the beginning of 2012 for harassing me and stalking me on the property, showing the staff video of this, but they refused to trespass them, pretending that because they lived in the desert, they couldn’t ban them from the apartment property. And yet, despite me living in the desert after the eviction, I was trespassed. So, Justin breaks into my apartment, and there’s a confession in a police report to this, he’s not evicted, homeless guys living in the desert aren’t trespassed after harassing me on the property and disturbing other residents (these residents were a couple who were harassing me as I showed the staff, who weren’t evicted for it, and one of those neighbors also harassed another neighbor out of the blue for the appearance of that neighbor’s dog which I caught on video), BUT I AM EVICTED, BECAUSE…?
For all you tenant attorney’s out there who wouldn’t offer me a payment plan, remember Brenda’s words, “Where’s your attorney?” Yes, where is my attorney? Who is going to sue for me, at least for a “pay only if you win” case? It appears Brenda is right for now: A landlord can repeatedly break the law and get away with it, because all the tenants are too poor to afford a lawyer, and as the ACLU repeatedly tells me basically, “We’re too busy with other cases right now and only help people with cases that affect others, sorry.” Yeah, so police harassment and stalking doesn’t affect others, landlords successfully getting away with bullying a resident doesn’t affect others. Wrong.
If anyone out there can help me sue for harassment, retaliation, property theft, negligence in protecting my property from theft, the damage that happened to my property from being forced to move it out in an absurdly and illegally small amount of time, the mental distress including the humiliation of being rushed out of my apartment and the thefts that happened to me out in the desert due to the surprise retaliatory eviction and the harassment I repeatedly went through out there, please do so. My paypal email is email@example.com. I think I have to wait 5 days to have money sent to me, by mail, after it’s deposited, and that’s only if I request it. I could link my bank account to it so that the money would eventually go into that.
For those of you wondering why I didn’t sell my rocks, I tried but Wells Fargo which I used to have, a certain employee there, despite recognizing me, refused to close my account which I wanted to do, because they didn’t give me sufficient notice that they changed their plan on me and were now charging for not having a certain amount in whatever it was I had and which I also tried to close because charges were coming through I didn’t approve of from Amazon, trying to make me pay for their 2 day shipping service after I had already cancelled it in their free time to try it. It ended up being closed after I was $160 in dept. I had planned on selling the more common of my rocks through ebay, and getting the money through paypal into that bank account, and thinking my credit was ruined at that point, wouldn’t get one any time soon, and not wanting to deal with paypal and their aggravating requests to fax them things about you to prove you are who you are if you want to do certain things, I put it off, hoping I’d find such awesome rocks that I’d get funding from some businessman to put them in a museum of my own making like I wanted to, and make money from the museum, being in charge of my own hours so that no one could fire me for my dyscalculia problem. For those of you wondering how a disabled person could get so many rocks and heavy ones: It was by sitting down often, drinking a lot of water, walking very slowly, biking rather than walking sometimes, and though I had high arches, walking on rocks and soft dirt supported my arches unlike flat ground, which allowed me to walk pain free in the desert without limit, unlike the flat ground of the city. I also used a large wagon to bring in some heavy loads, which later was stolen after about three weeks of having it. It had cost me about $230, and a year later it dropped to $69. The thing is toxic too. I also had to rest for a long period of time after bringing in many rocks. On top of that, the hellish psoriasis I have on my scalp was a major deterrent to me being able to think clearly. And not just that, but harassment from the homeless in the desert, police (and at the latest apartment the police were harassing me, and stalking me, over false accusations from a mentally ill woman at another apartment complex months earlier about me supposedly harassing her and which later magically converted to “stalking”. She was an elderly woman with narcissism disorder who had been stalking me. I have “stalking” on my record now, to make a long story short, I’m sure you can figure out why unless you’re a psychopath, narcissist or stalker yourself, and therefore having a predisposition to accussing everyone of being evil who claims not to be, or to having committed some crime they claim not to have committed, and since those types are are naturally paranoid and not trusting anyone due to their mental illnesses or in the case of a mere stalker, an evil way of life that causes.
Things are looking up despite a lifetime of Hellish experiences though, not just in the end, but it seems to me if I can manage to keep the occasional evil thoughts I have that come from my heart into my mind from coming about in my mind as often, that God will bless me more and I may find gold, opals, fossils and perhaps in a month or a few months from now, jewelry grade diamonds, as I found a location where I can obtain them doing my own digging.
I can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org