God, I’m Under A Yet Another Narcissist, Again – My Life As of Now, Part 2

Among Isat’s hoarder tendencies is that she doesn’t want me to throw away those those plastic milk jugs. Ones that I suspect are tainted with BPA. Strangely she only has about 6 of them as far as I can see. Perhaps someone in her family is throwing them away? She said today, “We save these”, and earlier on the 4th day I moved in, maybe longer after that, she’d also said not to throw them away. And not long after I’d moved in, Yenti had said that “we” (the Mormons) didn’t believe in the last days or in survivalism, yet not long after that, Isat said she’d bought MRE’s in case of a disaster, and that earthquakes had happened before in Nevada. She suggested that she was going to get a barrel to fill with water when I suggested getting emergency water since you could live without food longer than water, and sterilizing it with chlorine pills, but she said there was some other way which I thought those pills were, but then I realized it wasn’t chlorine but neither of us could remember what the chemical was. She also said I should fill those milk/juice bottles with water in case of an emergency. When I suggested she get spears, she asked if it would be better to get a gun. I also suggested as I did earlier when she expressed distress over her electricity bill ($500 a month) that she get a solar set up, but she said instead she’d get a little one.

On the 24th, Sunday, she turned the heat on, and it was unbearable. She and Yenti were gone so I wasn’t able to rest in my room because I thought the control was in her room and I didn’t want to violate her privacy. When she came back many hours later, I asked about it and said I was very hot because of it, and her reply was (and remember this is many hours later), “Buttercup is cold.” When I asked if there was a way to stop it in my room, she said, “No” and then went to it and lowered it to 73 degrees Farenheit, but still wouldn’t turn it off or set it to automatic. So I had to wait for her to leave. Tis is a woman who when first taking me in to live with her said, “You’ll be treated like one of the family.”

It’s now 6:01 PM and the sun is still somewhat bright. I think about five days ago, one time she knocked on my door at 8 AM, and without a word left, and when I immediately opened it, found a vacuum right next to it. Talk about “rude” and “arrogant”. That’s almost like her standing in front of me out of the blue and pointing to a vacuum while starring at me. And what would that mean, am I supposed to be psychic Miss “I don’t like to talk” Isat? And wow, is that supposed to be the model example of a loving person and Mormon, an anti-social person? What if, in the morning, I’m going to the bathroom and Isat knocks, am I to shout from the bathroom while taking a shower or brushing my teeth? And if I don’t answer will she take that as a sign of rudeness or disobedience or not behaving like a family member?

About forty-five minutes ago I thought about going to their church and to suggest that he slyly somehow get Isat to give me a regular schedule rather than being subject to her narcissistic mood swings and assumptions about me “not finishing” or not having done anything and arbitrarily telling me when to rest and  work. But the thing is, there are a much higher amount of narcissists in narcissist spawned cults, so I have a higher risk of encountering a narcissist pastor who may side with Isat and who may tell her to bring me to church and wait for me to quickly convert or get rid of me for risking making their “Church” look bad by me spreading word about her being a bad person and therefor bad member. Even if I merely say that Isat is getting senile, if the narcissist pastor in one of his mood swings thinks, that because I’m not Mormon, that that’s “criticizing” their Church, which is a “no-no” in Mormonism, or might illogically think that I’m risking their income by upsetting a tithe-payer to their church, then I may end up back out in the desert. And just by mentoning Isat and Yenti and their son in their house by name, I risk some malicious narcissist Mormon using their geneological database to look them up to find out who I am and get me kicked out for daring to criticize his precious leader Joseph Smith. And how many Mormons who read this fully (and how many will read it carefully in the biased lifestyle they were raised in to walk away in anger from anyone who “has already made up their  mind about the Church” as if making up your mind is bad in and of itself, and merely because they “made it up” to be opposed to the bad things they learned about it, as if you must approve merely because of some shallow “good things” Mormons claim to do, or many even and ignore any bad, no matter how severely bad that fruit is. As if you should only focus on that one percent of the fruit that isn’t rotten and ignore the rest of the mushy slime it’s leaving all over your hand just by holding it, or the foul stench you smell from smelling it.

It’s now 8:32 PM. Isat and Yenti left with some family members of theirs. They’ve been gone for about one and half hours now. I’ve done a lot of cleaning, including of some of my property that I salvaged from the dumpster. Some of them smelled very bad. I’m getting read to get on the Internet to ask DJ to help me get a desk tonight or tomorrow that I hid in the desert and while I look through some bags of my stuff that I left there. I had told Isat not long before she left, that I would put salmon out to defrost, and that I would find it back in the refrigerator. And she told me it was her doing that, and that she was doing that in case we forgot it was out and it spoiled and to keep the dogs from eat it spoiled and that it boiled quickly so it wasn’t a big deal. However that was a ridiculous and rude thing to say, because I didn’t say I did that for the dogs, but it was meant for me, and my way of saving her power. And her stove had poor efficiency and she knew that. Strangely, she wouldnt use her microwave as I sometimes did to feed myself. I had even told her that I ate the salmon raw, so for her to put it back in was yet another callous act that showed she had narcissism disorder. It was also rude in that again, she was showing more concern for the dogs that me or the rest of her family. For example, her son Tai will almost entirely eat Cup of Noodle soup because, as I predicted he’d say when I asked, “It takes too long, and that’s all they’ve got.” Maybe it wouldn’t take so long if his mom wouldn’t sabatoge his or the rest of her family’s efforts to get things done quickly, and in a rational way. It was also ridiculous because salmon doesn’t spoil that fast. What’s also ridiculous is that she told me many days ago, with a smile, that she always burns things when I told her I wasn’t always good with not burning food. So, if it’s the case she’s always burning things (and I found evidence of that when I found burned hot dogs not long after moving in) due to her poor memory, then why not try mine? And why worry when her and the rest of her family and I am often in the kitchen, and as I said earlier, told me to constantly watch it. Such is the mind of a narcissist.

Consider this too, concerning Isat’s rude comment that I shouldn’t complain: when I was talking with DJ in the garage on the 24th, I asked if he wanted to go inside to eat, or for some other reason, and he said, “I don’t want to go inside because of the smell.” Consider that I’d cut, in my opinion, more than half that smell away, and he’d only briefly come in; if all my work and hard cleaning and bleaching for days didn’t get rid of the extremeness of that bad smell from her dog, how then can Isat say I shouldn’t complain about the conditions of my stay? I can’t even get a guest of mine in for more than few seconds without them curling their nose and leaving in disgust? That’s reasonable and not something to complain about on top of her bad treatment, her rude and irrational behavior towards me, the stuffed, dirty, smelly room she gave me, and her persistant delaying or refusal to get genuine deodorizers and air purifiers or to put any she has to work, and her turning on the heat on despite it making me miserable so that her heavily diseased dog won’t shiver, and when she has plenty to cover it up with and the money buy a room heater for it?! And it is in that room most of the time, sitting depressed and in pain, and moves it’s head away and holds it up when I try to pet it, and me not even touching it. And consider this: When I first told Isat I had psoriasis and that it got worse with stress, her reply was, “You need to relax.” So, I need to relax by cleaning nonstop and resting, sleeping, waking and going to the bathroom at her whims? That’s her idea of relaxing and a good life? No wonder her daughter wasn’t able to keep her room clean and their parents won’t ask their son to work for them. My guess is that he’s paying them to leave him alone so that he can live life like a normal person. And how’s this for relaxation, the Sunday before the last one, Yenti, when I asked if he wanted anything done, he replied, “Sunday is a day of rest.” But when I told him about a immature argument/little fit one of my supervisors, “D.B.” at “The Golf Park in Vienna” where I used to work over me saying I didn’t think it was right to work on Sundays, Yenti then changed his story to, “Sometimes you have to.” And last Sunday, when Isat went off to do her bood work job, and she turned around in her parking lot, and her last words were, “Daniel, try ot throw out some trash.” And that I did as I showed with some pictures and videos that day when I cleaned her office and majorly renovated and beautified it that day and the next. But did she show appreciate for it, as I said earlier, “No.” And instead she even said, repeatedly, to clean the beautiful futon I put in it, while ignoring that the couch by it she regularly sleeps on apparently, is horribly filthy and no doubt saturated with the stench of her diseaesd dog and her step daughter’s German Shephard, Brutus.

It’s now 8:51 PM, and I’m sitting painfully on some large rocks by a building to access the Internet, typing on a laptop with half it’s screen being impossible to use.

(I went home at about 9:45 PM, after finally, after days of not having done so, opening up some tabs – in my browser – to check the world news.)

It’s now 11:44 PM, and I had done more work, cleaning off my own things and Isats. And my psoriasis has flared up greatly and I am itching like crazy from how she treated me today and remembering all of this Hell she’s put me through and no thanks to Yenti, who like the youth pastor of GV Christian church, did not warn me that Isat was mentally ill. And he is an ex-police officer, so he knows that warning people about criminally minded people is the moral thing to do. How long do you think I’ll be able to stay under Isat’s crippled, decayed, horribly smelly, failing wing? It’s 6:19 PM, and a few minutes ago I heard a hard knock on my door, should I assume it’s Isat wanting me to do work or check to see if it’s one of the dogs trying to get in as they sometimes try to do? What kind of life am I going to have living here with this new madness?

It’s now 11:47 PM, and I really want to post this story on my blog now, before tomorrow comes.

It’s now 1:43 AM, the 27th. Instead of going out to post this to my blog earlier, I instead to remove the horrible bed that used to belong to Isat’s daughter, which wiped me out. I put it in her choir room not knowing if she’d allow me to throw it out or not without her exploding in anger and because I didn’t know if the trash disposal company would throw it out or not being that it was a queen sized mattress. I’m exhausted, and my scalp is still severely itching.

It’s now 3:15 AM, and I finally got back on the Internet a few minutes ago, and a few minutes before that I found Isat had been boiling a slice of salmon for a little longer than it should have been. She was apparently on the Internet again, and still keeping me from using the wifi and despite seeing my laptop on a kitchen table when she came in a few minutes after me turning off the stove and chopping up the salmon for her dogs, (yes, she feeds them in the middle of the morning, and and a result they make am abnormally huge amount of poop in their backyard more quickly than is normal for dogs that eat a proper amount), not asking one word about whether or not I was able to get on the Internet successfully since days ago despite me saying I couldn’t back then. And she said, “I thought you were asleep,” and I replied, “I couldn’t sleep because I was in too much pain.” As always, she asked, “What?”. She always, and I mean that literally, asks, “What” after I speak. Apparently she’s hard of hearing and for no reason I can figure out other than her being a stingy or prideful person, won’t use a hearing aid). But so I repeated and added, “because of all the moving.” She of course gave no compassionate response, let alone any response. She did offer me the salmon meant for the dogs though, but being that she’s a narcissist and knowing she valued her personal dog more, I dared not eat from it.

It’s now 3:26 AM. And to any of you fault finding Mormons who want to accuse me, in your hypocrisy, of being a fault-finder, arguing that in my retelling of the past days of my life, especially over Isat, and second her husband and third her son Tai: try living my life and in the situation I’ve described, then you can judge, and on top of that, as I pointed out: stop being fault-finders yourselves by calling me one, without evidence and when I’m pointing out worthy criticisms to note. Stop trying to sugar coat and blind everyone from reality so that you can keep up your lying without having to feel even a tinge of guilt or worry that you’ll be found out as false teachers and blind followers. And, this is literally in my estimation, about 85% of the things Isat has said to me, the rest being worthless talk. And she herself said to me in anger, “I don’t like to talk much”, so then, I’m truly pointing out the little she has said to me each day, from before the 20th of March up to now, the 27th. If anyone is a fault-finder, it’s a narcissist and Isat. Furthermore, to cover up the acts of a cruel animal abuser would indicate that you who want to make, “You’re being a fault-finder” hit and run jabs are narcissists yourselves or heavily deluded by your Mormon brainwashing. To long abuse an animal is a clear sign of an unkind, unloving and evil person: “Whoever is righteous has regard for the life of his beast, but the mercy of the wicked is cruel.” – Proverbs

It’s 4:35 AM and I managed to post what was before this sentence. I’m stressing over my stolen bike pumps and none being around to pump up my bicycle tire or my wagon wheel and having to drag that thing all the way back to my apartment, weight it down and somehow disassemble my desk and then drag that weight back to Isat’s house. I’m exhausted and haven’t slept.

It’s 5:24 AM, and I just went to the kitchen and to my true amazement I found Isat awake and feeding salmon mixed with dog food to her and her step daughter’s dog AGAIN. So she’s feeding them nearly hourly, in the early morning! UGH. Why not use that energy to do actual useful WORK? Because: she’s a narcissist, and narcissists hate what they perceive as lowly peoples’ work. Now to try to get out of this house again and try and retrieve the rest of my trashed property.

It’s 9:11 AM, WOW: About 15 minutes ago I got back from hauling another load of my property, well smellified from the dumpster. I carted it up 3 miles, exhausted from the start, and when I finally got back home Brutus the German Shepherd began licking me to death, something he’d never done before, and Isat right away came into the backyard where I’d collapsed on my butt in exhaustion. AND ONCE AGAIN SHE REPEATED SHE DIDN’T WANT MY STUFF SHOWING ON THE SIDE, REPEATEDLY TELLING ME ABOUT THE “TRASH” ON THE SIDE AND ME AGAIN AND AGAIN TELLING HER IT WASN’T TRASH. GOD, DAMN, ugh, relentless idiot. Then she gave me a bag of quarters, saying it was $20, and asked, “Is this enough for the bins?” (I told her there were $2 bins at Lowe’s). And I asked if it was okay if I took a break after some more stupid small talk with her about where I’d just been and what I’d just done. And she indicated it would be okay if I took a break, and I got up and she asked if I was going to use my bed (I’d put the disgusting felt one that her daughter used in the choir room lest she freak out about me throwing it out and the trash disposal guys leave it out and she freak out over that too). I thought she meant as in my bed I used to replace it, which if she did mean was a dumb, dumb question since OF COURSE IF I MOVED THE OTHER ONE OUT! And it was stupid either way she meant it, as in the one I brought or that she let me use, because why would I if I intended to use it?! And I tell her why I didn’t trash it and that I could clean it and she tells me she’d like me to put it in her room (and remember she has two, being that she claimed Buttercup’s was hers in her odd lie). So I asked, “Which room? You have two.” And she said, “The master.”

After that I asked her if where a nearby grocery store is because her daughter left lots of pennies (but also so I could have a convnient place to get food of my own liking rather than having to beg her unreliable do-what-I-feel-like self), and asked if I could put it in a penny machine, and she says twice emphatically, “Oh no, they charge a lot.” Okay stingy hoarder, okay. So then she looks down at this brown rug she left out, a piece of… and asks me to clean it and that it’s for her bathroom. So, not having taken my break, I say, “Okay, I’ll clean it right away,” and did so and put it in her bathroom. When I come back I see Yenti, in the same clothes from yesterday, and chat with him and he somehow noticed the rear tire on my bike was messed up even though I couldn’t tell from the same distance and told him about how it popped while I was moving stuff yesterday. And while doing that, I’m wiping the kitchen counters and clean a dish, again, so Isat would shut up and not treat me like shit again, implying I was slacking off. Then she expressed very slight disaproval over me using a certain darkish rag, not white and clean, to wipe the kitchen counters (and cabinets down, which she didn’t watch me do) and makes some sort of disapproving sound, and then turns to open a drawer of white cloths, then closes it, and turns to these two ugly rags like she did yesterday sitting on the counter by their ugly microwave, and for the second time asks if are mine and for the second time I say “no” to, and she says, “You can use these,” and I tell her I didn’t do that because for wiping things down because I felt that since they were so dirty I was only putting filthy back on what I just wiped. Then, she, confirming what I suspected from day one when I suggested using bleach on Buttecup, and I told herher remembering I’d used bleach to clean various things about a week ago I think, said, “You can use bleach (to clean the dirty cloths). Then I told her she ran out, but that I has my own (bleach). Then she said, “Yes,” and something I can’t remember, and then said something that was almost exactly this, “When you use bleach, remember that there’s such a thing as using something too much (and I knew what she’d say next because she was a stupid person), because the germs will get resistant, and then it will be of no use anymore, so use as little as possible, okay?” UGH, NO: GERMS DO NOT BECOME RESISTANT TO BLEACH, ANYMORE THAN THEY BECOME RESISTANT TO TOO MUCH SUNLIGHT OR TOO MUCH WATER: SOME THINGS THEY CANNOT GAIN RESISTANCE TOO, JUST LIKE WHEN YOU LET YOUR DOG GET TOO SICK AND TOO DISEASED, SO THAT IT’S SKIN IS PINK, RAW, SAGGING WORSE THAN AN ELEPHANT, ENCRUSTED WITH YELLOW FLAKING SKIN AND COVERED IN BLISTERS: IT WILL NOT GET USED TO THAT AND FEEL BETTER! Ironically, and hypocritically, on top of everything else, either the day before or this morning, probably the day before, I was going to feed the dogs some salmon mixed in with their food, and trying to save time and because it was faster, I asked if I could just mix it in with my hands as she stood near me, and she said, “If your hands are clean” (yeah I’m going to try to food poison your dogs so you can throw a tantrum again and have a nervous break down and try to stab me under the pretense of having killed the dogs and your continually tormented punching bag, Buttercup), and the irony was that the bowls were filthy, and as far as I could tell, before having finally washed them today, saw they were slime filled with various things in them indicating they hadn’t been washed for a long time. It’s incredible too that, her, knowing I was doing research on the Net to save Buttercup from anymore misery and having told her Brutus was starting to show signs of skin infection cut me off from it. To me that was a sign that she truly was trying to cause these animals continual suffering. And, if she does have Baron Munchausen by proxy (I’ll call it BMSBP) as I suspected after short while of living there, then that combined with her narcissism disorder puts the pets and everyone’s lives at risk of this woman. And she is doing harm by having everyone live under this dust and seemingly black mold infested house. I offered to write letters to the owners for her, and send them pictures to show that they need to clean out the dust, and she said she would like that to be done, and yet she’s freaking out instead over me not continually monitoring the kitchen and not immediately not making all my property nice and neat after an epic nightmare struggle getting it here. She’s wearing me down and stressing me out so much so that I can’t do what’s best to get done first. And her continually trying to keep me working obsessively on trivial things first with no schedule may actually be her way of trying to thoroughly make me feel like she’s not doing anything wrong, but rather I am, so that she feels safe that I’d never report her for hoarding or animal neglect and abuse.

If you don’t know what BMSBP is, it’s a kind of supposed mental disorder, supposedly, in which a person harms of tries to give the appearance of harm to some living thing under their care other than themselves in order to gain attention for it. All the literature I’ve read and shows I’ve watched about it have always indicated the harm is done to a human, however in this case it appears to me to be a dog

Then she tells me, ugh, for the second time to not let it stay on the floor, then mentions that I left a bucket out, and that the dogs might drink it because they wouldn’t know any better. Which reminds me: when I had come back that morning, she also asked me to train the dogs to poop only in a certain far off corner by watering the whole area where they pee and poop (meaning watering a huge area of gravel and wasting a massive amount of water just to get them to go to the corner. The problem with that is the German’s Shepherd’s obsession with water him getting out all the time to bite at it. And one time accidentally but my finger in his obsession and caused me to bleed. And Isat again mentioned that the electricity bill was very high and that therefore when I was my clothes to use cold water (oh yeah did I mention their washer is shit and they have no dryer? Can I complain yet?!), so I again recommended a solar power kit and she suggests using a do it yourself kit and that a book she has on it says it’s easy. What she meant most likely was ASSEMBLING THE SOLAR CELLS YOURSELF. THEN DO IT YOURSELF Isat, DON’T REALLY ON ME FOR THAT WHOSE ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR CLEANING HELPER. Then I mention how the shower takes forever to heat up, and she acknowledged that very slightly, and I told her how I only took a 3 minute shower because I forgot my soap, and she replied, as I thought she would, “Isn’t there soap in there?” and I tell her the obvious: I didn’t want to risk offending Vai, and she replies, “What’s wrong? It’s all in the family” in a “what’s the big deal?” tone. Then I went to pour water in the dog bowl from one of the milk jugs I’d filled with water, and one of them yesterday I’d repeatedly washed out because she apparently put soap in it. But so I poured one and it foamed a little, so I asked, “Did someone put soap in this?” and Yenti made some sort of sound, and Isat made some reply I can’t remember, but then she said, “Remember, those are my two children,” UH YEAH Isat THAT’S WHY I ASKED IF SOMEONE PUT SOAP IN THE WATER, GOD, DAMN, STUPID, UNGRATEFUL. UGH. At that point I left, because I couldn’t take her insane hateful inconsiderate speech anymore. It’s now 9:41 AM. I’ll try to post this new part soon.

It’s now 3:13 PM, I had to sleep. I tried to sleep, but 4 minutes ago Isat kept knocking on my door and despite me saying “Hello” in tired misery, having barely if at all slept, while in pain, she comes in, and comes up with what I knew was a fake excuse to do so: she goes into her daughters closet (and she implied many days ago that all the clothes in her was her daughters) and says, “I’ve got to get my clothes” and begins making frantic hurried sounds and “uh” sounds like she’s working hard to get them out fast. Then I said, “I can’t sleep, I keep having this dream and then waking up, it’s about working, not cleaning but moving,”, I made up the dream part kind of, I was rather dreaming with my body so to speak, as in feeling the pain of all that work and listening to the sound of traffic which was keeping me awake, but I was lying, just to let her know I was miserable and not being lazy. Narcissists are paranoid and suspicious and easily upset if you don’t do what they want. Remember: they are very callous to the feelings of others. So then I told her I couldn’t sleep because of the sound of traffic, and that was because I had the only window that opens, opened, for fresh air and to keep the heat from building up and so that somehow any bad dust might escape. Then I say to her, “I can put that in a box if you want” and can’t hardly open my eyes because I had them closed for hours and was dehydrated a lttle. I had even asked what she wanted to do with all the stuff in this room (and much of it was junk) followed by, “Do you want me to put it in boxes?” and she said, “Yes.” And this was about a week ago. So then Isat, while making those struggling sounds to remove the clothes, says, “It’s like a nightmare (referring to my dream comment)” and then said, “Uh (as in a sound of struggle removing the clothing), so much junk.” Then she suddenly leaves. So out of the blue she needs junk clothing? And when she left I, after about four minutes of trying to work myself to get up, I look at the closet, and it appears nothing had been removed. It’s 3:23 now and I just turned around and looked again: it does seem a little like she removed something now that I look harder with my eyes refreshed a little. I’m truly sore and in pain and feeling like I’m on the verge of a headache. But how is that for privacy? So, what if I was naked? I had no bed sheet, one pair of dirty clothes, no spare shirt, just one, with an uncomfortable red one in the garage as far as I can remember, and I suppose a hamper full of some used clothing somewhere among my piles of things, but I haven’t seen it if I ever did retrieve it. Can I live like this, can I live in such a place where Isat violates my privacy? What kind of Mormon is this? What happened to the universal rules of not violating a stranger’s privacy and on top of that: that of the opposite sex? And on top of that: isn’t it common sense not to pester someone whose going to be working for you to keep you from being miserable and in pain, and after they’ve just massively exhausted themselves in some epic or near epic struggle against evil people? I’m in a world full of zombies it seems. It’s now 3:31, and I don’t want to live here anymore. I’m looking forward to meeting a very lively and friendly business man I met about a week and a half ago maybe. He offered to help me look for gold, opals and geodes as I’d planned on doing now for about two or three months. I hope what I find will get me out of this zombie nightmare. It’s now 3:35. I’m sitting with one leg folded on folding chair that I padded, and looking at my bed, thought of getting one of those things that allows you to have a veil going around your bed. That way if Isat does such a thing again, she won’t, Lord willing, see that I’m naked.

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God, I’m Under A Yet Another Narcissist, Again – My Life As of Now – Part 1

Today is March 26,2013.

(Note: I’ve changed the names of the family I’m talking about to protect myself from retaliation by Mormons who might be able to find out who I am from the unique names of the Mormons I mention in this account of my life this month).

Incredibly, as I suspected just two days after having moved in with this elderly Mormon woman “Isat”, I have come under the rulership of yet another narcissist directly in my life, Isat herself.

So, after having fought the homeless ones off in the desert, and my former apartment manager’s harassment, who was also one, I now realize I am under yet another. This is the “Mormon master” I have been speaking about. To explain shortly, in order to avoid being homeless and stuck in the desert with violent and theiving narcissists (due to my narcissist apartment manager forcing me out illegally in more than one way), I had accepted the vague request from an elderly Mormon Samoan woman named Isat, whom I met at a Walmart parking lot there while asking around for change. I met her at night, and she was clearly very exhausted after a while of talking to her (I found out she worked very long hours and at least according to herself, didn’t need much sleep). At first she told me I could stay with her if I did some cleaning around her house, and I’d be aloud to eat their food. She said “their” because she lived with her elderly husband and her direct son, who was grayhaired. She warned me that her dog was smelly. Having met another awful narcissist, the elderly narcissist stalker “JB” from the previous apartment I lived at, who had gotten me in much trouble by harassing me in various ways, who told me that her apartment was bad too because it was a mess (her carpet was filled with swirls of dark armpit hair looking swirls from her dog’s hair, and her lack of wanting to work to clean her dog), and it was an amazingly horrifying sight, I knew to expect something bad. I thought however the smell would be tolerable. It was barely tolerable and I had trouble falling asleep from it. In Isat’s house it too had much dog hair everywhere, including on the bed I was given to sleep in the room I was permitted to use. There was also much dust on the ceiling fan and black mold hanging from the vent. And there was a huge amount of shed pet skin from her diseased mange-ridden dog “Buttercup”. And about Buttercup, she looked like it had diseased pink elephant skin, and it was covered in various large patches with yellow and very off white flakes of skin, as if almost it had psoriasis. It’s skin overall was pink, except perhaps where there was much crusting. It also has one very prominent boil-like protrusion near it’s spine. It sheds a massive amount of skin in a short while. She is also a hoarder, and over the past, I think 10 days since I’ve been living with her, I’ve done a massive amount of cleaning for her. I did however as soon as I moved in, literally, started doing research on the Internet for Isat to find out what was wrong and how to cure it since she didn’t want to take it to a veterinarian, not even after a year. And who really knows how long it’s been since she did that since narcissists are liars. She however showed no thanks for that. Not even when one or two days later, I spent 2 hours of my personal time trying to see how to cure it and let Isat know this! And whenever I’d found solutions to the odor, Isat wouldn’t follow through with them, for example using a activated charcoal bed, or air purifier or a skin cream that apparently could cure mange and other dog skin problems. When I suggested one cream, she mentioned one that didn’t work, and when I reminded her again maybe two days later, she went back to point out that same OTHER type of cream and how it didn’t work. She pointed it out merely because they sounded similar, even though there was no evidence they were. She might as well have been confusing two different dogs merely because they had a similar appearance or were both called a “dog”.

I noticed that whenever I showed clear anxiety and stress over my apartment manager throwing out my huge amount of valuable property, and whenever I strong suggest or lightly ask if she’s help me get it out, she would show faint concern or forget about it, or behave in such a way as if it was the lowest priority out of anything. Keep in mind she’s also a Mormon, and Mormons are supposed to have a massive network of help (though I’ve found over the years that Mormons often fail each other, or perhaps it’s that they extend so much help to others or certain Mormons that they end up with little to nothing for other Mormons). She was also showing clear signs of depression, and so I felt even more uncomfortable about asking her for any help.

I had asked Isat the next day after having first lived with her to let me move into that room and that I’d clear out from the smell, because I could here her son Tai clearly going to the bathroom from mine (our rooms are connected by a bathroom with poor sliding doors!). Isat with a kind of embarrassed look told me I couldn’t move into it because, “That’s my room” as in Isat’s. If she’d said it was Buttercup’s that would have been more reasonable to me, because that isn’t Isat’s personal room, she sleeps in a master bedroom or her office room. So, right away she lied. And after perhaps a days, I noticed Isat had disabled the Internet wifi so that I couldn’t use it even though she knew I was heavily dependant on it for communication, and needed it to fight my former apartment manager’s illegal malicious acts against me by trying to have my property thrown on and to communicate with others to help me move it! I noticed also when I said to Isat a few days ago, “The wifi isn’t working, I thought you disconnected it, that’s why I go out to use the Internet, I thought you did that so that I wouldn’t spend a lot of time on it” that rather than saying, “No, that’s silly,” instead she sat at her laptop, crouched, near her PC, saying, “I don’t know why it’s not working, the modem is acting funny, my laptop isn’t connected to it” or she said “connected to the modem” as if thinking I might think that. And yet I saw when she had left a few days, maybe two or three before that day, that she’d removed what she knew was this device that was necessary to connect to it, which she herself taught me. And I noticed an odd looking wire going into her laptop, and she seemed to crouch in such a way as to hide it when she said “My laptop isn’t connected to the modem”. I also noticed she never uses her laptop anywhere else but next to the modem. I know for a fact I could easily connect to the Internet throughout the house, even outside, though poorly, so I knew she was lying.

On the first or second night, Isat let me know she was trying to use vinegar on Buttercup’s skin to cure her. After her telling me why she wouldn’t (pat with a cloth) vinegar all over Buttercup’s body at once, which was because she had some raw skin areas (she said she “heard” that vinegar could help a dog’s skin problems), and so I said, “Why not just put the vinegar all over her body all at once (I meant as in dunk it in) and kill it all?” . And she winced at me a little and with a little stern voice said, “First do to yourself what you’d do to her, it WILL hurt her.” Well yes, sometimes medicine and needles hurt, that doesn’t mean stay alive as long as you can already in pain to avoid feeling a needle prick. Just before or after the suggestion to use vinegar all over her if it truly worked, I suggested she use diluted bleach, and her reply was, “But bleach contains chlorine”. Ironically Isat is a blood worker, even dresses in a nurses outfit. Her daughter also studied anatomy, I even found her anatomy notes all over her bedroom, which Isat didn’t bother going through it seemed to remove all the things that might embarass her daughter to find (yet another sign that Isat had narcissism disorder).

About four days maybe after I’d been living there, Isat was having trouble getting a song from one of her CD’s copied, so I tried my best, and clearly something was wrong because the CD was scratched and her PC’s CD drive was poor. So I tried a few simple programs to copy the one track and her husband suggested copying them all, so I tried. But not even my laptop which was fine would do it. So Isat asked if I’d finished and I said I hadn’t and explained why clearly and quickly, and she gave me more time. She then soon after got upset that I still hadn’t succeeded despit me explaining why, like that I was in the middle of downloading a program that might work for damaged CD’s and then she started shooing me away on her third asking if I’d succeeded. And after a short while, during which I spent organizing her mess of Mormon and Christian music sheets scattered about (which I’d greatly organized by then at her request), she came out and said, “I did it, it was simple with a resentful look.” And I asked, “How did you do it?” And she said she’d used Windows Media Player as she’d done successfully before, and I said that I’d tried my best. She then replied, “I think you’re problem is that you think too complex, and not simple.” Narcissists often insult people for being simple and not more complex in their intelligence, but as with narcissists, they are arbitrary and careless with their insults, so they may say the reverse of what is true in their “correcting” of a person. For example they may say, “Well you’re too smart, that’s why you’re failing,” or “You work too hard” or “If you’d work more you’d get these things done faster.” I found it typical then of her behavior to show zero thanks in my doing anything great for her. Early on I’d even written down for her my email and asking her to her face to make me a list of things to do. And she told me the next day she didn’t want to have to tell me what to do but that I should just figure it out for myself. So I replied, “I know, you want me to be like a maid.” Her husband laughed when I said that. So much for getting specific directions. I noticed then when I cleaned one section, she replied, “Don’t touch this counter” in a rude way. So, can I get those instructions Isat?

And here is why I finally concluded about an hour and thirty minutes ago that she’s a narcissist: Last night, when she had family over to visit her husband Yenti (because he’d recently about two days ago experienced severe “gout” pain recently that hindered him from walking), after the kids and their parents left, I spoke with Isat in her dog Buttercup’s room. I sat against the wall near a bathroom door connected to the room while talking with Isat about the recent goings on, and as usual, about how to cure her dog’s mange, and I kept repeating myself as usual as to what to do (and the cures are simply and inexpensive). Isat sat on the side of the bed near this horrid looking dog that was clearly in pain. She said, “Where’s Buttercup?” while going into her room, thinking something was wrong, because with all the family over for hours I suppose, she should have been running about trying to get their attention. My guess is someone or some of Isat’s family told her to go away because she stinks badly. Buttercup will go away when you tell her too (but annoyingly she’ll never sit or lie down if you tell her to). So as I said I sat against the wall and Isat on the bed and faced Buttercup. She did the usual talk about her dog, and I again suggested the cure I knew of and asked if she was going to get it, and instead she said, as usual when I suggest what to do, that she’d continue to apply vinegar to Buttercup’s spine, because she thought it was helping (there was some hair growing over the spine, but it was clearly not getting better after the ten days I’d spent seeing the dog). Buttercup put her paw on Isat’s hand and looked Isat in the eyes, and Isat whinced with a smile back at the dog and said in a “awww isn’t that sweet” type tone, “She’s such a dainty dog, she’s so…” I forget the rest. But what I was seeing was like something out of a horror movie, because this dog was clearly in great suffering, it’s eyes always red around, and dull looking and always weeping yellow a substance, and there was Isat saying, “You’re so sweet,” cold to the dog’s great and continual suffering, even when a horrid stench was emanating from it. When I told her that one of the problems causing Buttercup’s allergy was the huge amount of dust I found on the ceiling, and that I resented the thought of cleaning it myself since he house owners were supposed to take care of that, she said, “Yes, but it has to be done” and then referred to them as, “those creepy people”. Consider the irony of her saying that, after what she just said to Buttercup in the dark room we were in with the only light coming in from the hallway. On top of that, Whitney told me that the ownership had recently been switched out, so how well could Tasi have known these people enough to know they were truly creepy. It’s also something to note that these days using the word “creepy” about someone is a cliche used by narcissist adults, who imitate the conniving, low blow, cheap shot attacks they hear from immature and childish young adults and kids.

At some point during our conversing I mentioned my dyscalculia problem and she replied, “Yes, I think there is something wrong with your memory because I noticed you don’t finish what you start” (as in cleaning jobs) and I replied, “I stop if I think there is something more important to do, like vacuum something” (but she was also just wrong, because I do finish cleaning the dishes or vacuuming the rugs and then move on if I can or take a break when I’m done. Further, how in the Hell can I finish when I have no scheduled hours and if I’m a live in servant? My job would never be finished since things get dirty again, especially when they let a German Shephard roam around shedding hair nonstop and quickly dusting up and covering their rugs with hair every day. And she didn’t specify what she meant by “don’t finish”. Narcissists should being that their minds are illogical and diminish the work of others to less than it is, as if they’ve done nothing or worthless work. So I was again insulted.

But even then I wasn’t totally sure Isat was sick, even though I was thinking she probably was. Either just before or just after that conversing, we went to the office which was on the other side of that bathroom, and she again mentioned this odor hiding spray she’d used and marveled a bit at how it had (masked) the smell, and me having just done a major and clear anti-hoarding clean up of her office was completely ignored by her which I think I was amazed at, but I know I was disappointed at. So I said, “And remember did a lot of vacuuming and yes I know you’re letting me live here” in a humorous voice, and she with a kind of conniving tone in her voice and winced eyes, creepy smile and with, it seemed a to me, a slight of shaking of her head,  replied, “Yeees so don’t complain” without a pause after the “Yeees”, even though there was not a trace of complaint in my voice. I was simply pointing out that me having vacuumed up the massive amount of pet dander, including Buttercups horrid cheese-smelling skin was clearly a help. But Isat, clearly being a narcissist, rather focused on her own “work” obsessively and pridefully and considered that of others to be of forgettable value.

On the 22, at night, I found two kind strangers with a truck to help me retrieve some of my property, one was named Robert, though it was, his girlfriend if that’s who she was, who’d right away and happily encouraged him to help me in the first place. But so they helped me unload my things at night at about 12 onto the front of Isat’s house, or rather her’s and Yenti’s. Isat had either then come out or just arrived and took out about two bins from her car. She had just gotten off works perhaps, and I suggested she back up closer to the side of the house where some already were so she didn’t have to walk such a long way with such heavy (rock-filled) bins. And I had shown her valuable rocks already to let her know they were not junk. And almost right away, and repeatedly, told me she didn’t want the things out there in front. And me not saying I would do such a thing, and not intending it, said I’d move them. And she said I could rest and do it in the morning. Instead, so she’d shut up about it since she wouldn’t let it go, I moved it immediately, and amazingly this had no impression on her, even though during all this moving I’d always found the time, and at the risk of losing very valuable property, not to just do cleaning, but decorating her house. I’d even allowed her to use my own kitchen utensils and superior cookware. Hers were all cheap and breaking down, except some glassware she had stored away in a counter near her piano, the one she didn’t want me to touch, even though nearly above it was a nasty black mold infested filter that I’d spent over an hour cleaning.

Either the next day or the day before that I think, during the day, Isat let me know that she used to hate dirt, and would have her family clean everything repeatedly. I said, “Like using bleach on doorknobs?” and she replied, “Yes.” But then she told me that that kind of treatment was “not good for them” so she wasn’t like that anymore. Yet a few days ago Isat expressed concern over me bringing in my rocks because of the “dirt” (she’d seen how messy my apartment was after the break ins, but forgot that it had been gone into illegally and treated rough to take things out) and I reminded her I’d washed most of the rocks off. What was also silly about that is that most of the rocks were in bins and I told her that my intent was to put them all in bins. I had to repeat myself about that at least three times.

Then, this morning, on the 26th of March, that I’d asked Isat if I could have $25 to pay off a laborer to help retrieve my things, and she said she had no more cash (her car was also broken down), that I then told her I’d go out and promise them later payment (I get a small and pathetic income from the SSA, who have been cheating me since 2005 out of thousands of dollars). I told her it would be quick (the other three or four times I took to retrieve my property took many hours during the day). So, first I did some house cleaning, knowing that Isat would act like I’d done nothing as usual, even though I’d done a major clean up.

First, before leaving, knowing Isat was an unthankful and demanding person, I did some dish cleaning and put in dog food and some Parmesan cheese in it since they wouldn’t eat it without something more tasty than that, and would if I put in cheese.

I biked a little out to use the Internet (because Isat had rigged it so I couldn’t use it while lying about not knowing why I couldn’t connect as I said) and saw if anyone was still offering help which I’d asked for through Craigslist. But thinking I’d have a better and quicker chance getting my stuff with the help of one of the Mexican laborers, I, after using the Internet a little, biked down with my laptop to Home Depot to find some day labor help, my bike bag, which had been getting destroyed from my frantic searches for help (because I’d forget to secure the straps and they’d tangle in the bicycle tire) which had my laptop in one bag, again started snagging on the one surviving strap (the other one the day before was ripped off in a tire snag). And when I got to Home Depot and opened my laptop, and after begging a little for help, unsuccessfully, I sat and opened my laptop and saw that half my laptop screen had been broken, apparently from hitting against my bike’s rear rim/wheel during the snagging. And one of the Mexicans with a truck whom I’d begged then and the day before saw that and heard me complain. He immediately then said, “Okay I’ll help you, come on.” And again I’d make it clear I’d give him $5 right then and $25 on the 1st of next month if I could, or as late as the 3rd. When he found my apartment he helped me, and I found out who the two Mexicans were Brenda has used to throw out a huge amount of my property on the 20th because I could see them (though didn’t realize it right then) parked out behind where I was going to park to retrieve property of mine I’d put there the day before to get later). I immediately went to let that guy know not to throw that out, and saw Alex the supervisor telling them to throw it out, but he weaseled away into my apartment to avoid me as soon as he saw me driving up to them. I saw the licenese plate and saw it was “609 YAB”, and later remembered how one neighbor who was by the dumpster they were using said that he rembered that on the 20th when he saw these mystery men throwing my things out, that “6 and 9 were somewhere in there”. They seemed to be day laborers as I’d suspected after having been around them, and them being identified by one neighbor (the horrible homeless narcissist April) as “two Mexican guys with a black truck”. And it was two Mexican guys with a black truck. The one who drove me there, Manny, let him know the rocks he’d thrown out and was about to throw out again were meant for a museum, and the Mexican man (who’d come out of the car by then), asked if that was so, and I told him it was. I didn’t notice but I think he felt bad. He told me that he’d put my things in black bags so that I’d know what was mine when I begged him to put them in the desert. But he wouldn’t because he said he was being paid $400 to remove my things that day and I could hear from his voice he was worried about not getting the payment. When I called for the maintenance man he completely ignored me though I noticed him briefly glance out the window to see what I was doing. So I got back to this horrible house I’m staying at and Manny pointed out at this time my rear bike tire had popped. Wow, how many things can go horribly wrong in one day? And more horror was to come. Then I told him I’d pay him on the first, and told him $40, and he was upset, and said he lost time that he could have used to make money and said, “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” and yet I’d repeatedly said I would pay him the rest later, and repeatedly told him right there and then to come back on the 1st, and he said, “It’s ok, it’s okay,” but I could tell he was disgusted and he drove off.

Then I decided to use my wagon after a few minutes of anxious thinking and decided to go dumpster diving if I had to and use my wagon. And after walking about three miles with my wagon, I did so, and was covered in the stench of my own rotten food slime. I got a lot out and save a lot of rocks, but hardly everything. After some humiating property salvaging I started back and noticed after a few minute of walking that my cart/wagon wasn’t rolling freely like it did the last time I used it to transport my property so I checked the wheels and they all turned smoothly, then I noticed while rolling it almost right after that the front right one had gone flat. So I was almost half dragging this heavy smelly wagon up about 2 and a half miles. It was embarassing, and once again something got damaged, this time the bottom of a smooth ironing device. If you know anything about irons, the bottom must be smooth if you don’t want to damage your clothing. The day before when frantically cleaning out and salvaging some apartment property, I threw out one big rock and of all the places to land it struck one of the most expensive items I’d put out onto the desert side, my food vaccuum storage device. It still seemed to work right though and didn’t crack to my surprise. I still haven’t tried to see if it works though.

After all that struggle I somewhat rushed to take a shower, a mostly cold shower without soap that lasted about 3 minutes because I decided to use some soap. But instead I spent my time looking for some alternative clothes to put on then the nasty bacteria tainted ones, and not seeing my personal germacidal citrus spray I put around my waste a new trash bag to rush to find it in the garage where I thought I’d left it. But I saw Isat in the kitchen where the garage is past, so I went back to my room, and then I saw the spray on my desk, so I began spraying the clothes I had just taken off. I’d suggested the night before using it on Buttercup, but she said, “But is it safe?” And I was surprised she’d asked because she knew I’d was looking out for the health of the dogs and pointed out that her feeding Buttercup hotdogs might be bad because Buttercup might be allergic to it. And yet Isat still persisted afterwards. Then all the sudden two days after me pointing that out then began feeding them cooked salmon, and only would used cooked samon. I suggessted Tuna instead since it was cheaper and she said that that was a good idea, but never went through with it.

So after spraying my clothes and having nearly just put them on, except my shirt and putting on some new socks as I was about to, and only having my cap and pants on, Isat knocks on my door (I forgot to mention Isat loved to knock on my door early in the morning to wake me up, not saying a word, if she couldn’t see me right away, and said to me about 4 days after I moved in, “wake up early”, as in about 8 AM as is taught for Mormons by their leaders to do). She then had me follower her to her kitchen (I put my shirt on, and there was nothing on my messed up feet – I have a high arch problem, so I walked awkwardly to her right away) and she turned around after getting there and said to me in a stern and near frantic voice, “I don’t want to have to repeat myself, I don’t like to repeat myself, I want you to clean, that is why I brought you in, so I told her I had cleaned and she raised her hands to each side of her head, with her hands open and straight up and in a stern angry voice said to me, “Don’t speak! Listen, I don’t want to have to repeat myself! I told you not to feed the dogs cheese, why is there cheese in here?” I had sprinkled MY OWN parmesian cheese at first and in later days, hers into their bowls when dog food was in it, because they wouldn’t eat their food, so Isat thought, when they should, and I could see that they did ignore it for a seemingly unusually long time. And three or four days after I moved in, I had told Isat that I didn’t mind living outside in their backyard, in a tent (or shed) so that they could rent out my room and get $600 amonth, because that was a lot of money to lose every month and that could be used for a solar power system). She replied, “I just want you to clean.” I told her that I was very concerned about money because of her distress over her power and water bill and the large amount of water being wasted and the energy being used by her vacuum every day (to suck up pet dander and hair) and that my dad had raised me to be stressed out over money. and that I was more concerned about her family then myself.” Her reply was, “Good, I’m glad that you think that way,” and she emphasized that point again in some other way, but I can’t remember how. So I told her since she was trying to save money I did so, and she said, “I’d rather feed the dogs salmon to make sure they are healthy” (or something similar but not as intelligent sounding). Then WHILE USING MY NEW-LOOKING MIXING BOWL (in comparison to her thin beat up little ones) FOR PANCAKE MIX, STIRRING IT IN FRONT OF ME, said with contempt, “The amount of money it costs to buy the salmon is nothing to me, like that cheap cheese” or she said something very similar. If that is so why didn’t she buy by now the dog saliva allergy testing kit I told her I found only for $128 about two days ago? Why not have Tai walk to me to Home Depot or Lowe’s to buy more bins for the rocks she doesn’t want anyone to see or my other property that she keeps saying she doesn’t want sitting the way it is at the side of her house!? And why did she assume I only had a little property? Just before or after the suggestion to use vinegar all over her if it truly worked, and her reply was, “But bleach contains chlorine”. Why doesn’t she buy bleach regularly and instead let it run out to nothing? Am I also to be her counselor and so remind her of what she should do? One of the worst things about narcissists is that you can’t correct them hardly without them resenting it, even when you are very polite. They see it as combative, complaining about them, being unthankful and/or you being stupid. She has money now in her bank and can use her credit card. And why when after berating me in the kitchen (and more to that story after this) when I saw a pest control man she called to spray around, wearing a mask, did she not show one word of concern when I pointed out he was wearing a mask, and must then be using something toxic, and that that perhaps was what Buttercup was having an allergic reaction to? (though I did notice later he went to the door asking if she wanted him to spray inside, and she declined his offer, perhaps before she had till I mentioned this, but still, she she’d no thanks for me looking out for Buttercup). And speaking of the mixing bowl, earlier, I think two or three days ago, I’d made some of my own rice, not from Isat’s supply, and she knew it wasn’t hers and I know that because she expressed that in some way, BECAUSE SHE WAS EATING IT, KNOWING IT WAS MY RICE. So now is it, “What mine is yours and yours is mine”? So I get to eat her food and she gets to eat mine? Wow, so I can’t use her cookware or utensils to make food that I buy for myself but must share it with her on her whims? Is that a great deal?  Do I have unlimited money to share with her? When she wants my things hidden from site outside and I can use my tarp from my camp site 3 miles away, should I go get and risk her throwing another tantrum over everything not being constantly clean and neat or should I use my own money to buy another $60 tarp? What a narcissist. I remember about five days ago, she said, “You’re dad’s Jewish, he must have money.” Strangely when I told her some day or days before that that I was half Jewish because my dad was, she said, with an awkward hesitation in her voice, as if struggling to say it, “We too are Israelites.” and wouldn’t look me in the eyes like she believed it but as if she was programmed to mention that when hearing someone say they were Jewish. I knew that she was taught that from other Mormons, and no doubt repeatedly told that by her leaders.

She also said something like, “The kitchen is the most important area, I want you to constantly check the kitchen, then the outside. I don’t want to have to do this stuff myself!” I kept trying to tell her I’d just gotten back and was trying to get my things right away so they wouldn’t be thrown away, and she gave a pathetic, “I know about that already” response, yet didn’t say she cared of course, as a narcissist is typical of. She did also say, but only because I pointed it out, “I know you’ve done a lot of cleaning.” Also Isat, I went out of my way to do a lot of beautifying, which though was obvious, it was only when I beautified her bedroom door way did she say it looked good and might get more flowers to put by it. I also did research to help her dogs, that wasn’t part of my cleaning job. I also cleaned her air ducts, which is the job of the people she’s renting from to take care of. I also helped organize her hoarded junk, not part of my job, yet clearly something that needed to be done since it was accumulating nasty dust.

Yenti was walking around Isat as she was saying this and acting as if nothing bad was going on. He’s also an ex-police officer from Samoa. He doesn’t seem to have NPD and is a friendly guy. He also seems to know Isat well enough to avoid upsetting her as much as possible. For example I took out Isat’s old ugly gray plastic decaying vending machines from her/their garage to be able to clean that crowded filthly place more easily. Yenti kept expressing concern they’d be rained on (it almost never rains here, and a Polynesian of all people should know the difference between a desert and a tropical island). When I got home not very long after, after having neatly lined them up outside against a wall where they wouldn’t be noticed hardly, I saw someone had put them back in. I asked Isat if she did it and she said she hadn’t (not many days after Yenti had a gout attack I mention later). I suppose perhaps he was concerned over Isat freaking out over that, but if that were so, why didn’t he just say, “Isat might get upset seeing them outside, it’s just better to clean them here in the garage and clean around them”? That’s not too hard of a thought is it?

I’d even told Isat and Yenti early into moving in that my spine was arthritic and couldn’t then work easily or nonstop, and even let her know I was disabled and that running heavy property back and forth like Brenda was doing was damaging my knees badly. Isat herself said what Brenda was doing was “unreasonable”, “stupid” and “evil”! I also told Isat that I had a bad psoriasis problem on my scalp, similar to her dog’s problem with it’s skin. But being that she clearly didn’t want that dog cured but to stay in pain, and therefore had no compassion for it, she clearly had no compassion for me being in pain either. It was all acting on her part. She was probably happy that Brenda was doing what she was so that I’d spend more time cleaning at her (Isat’s) house.

So, there I was, being insulted and like I was a little child, then she asked why I didn’t clean before I left! Grrrr! and I said I did, and she talked over me saying, “Listen! I don’t like to talk much! I don’t want to have to clean the kitchen! I don’t want to have to tell you what to do, just do them.” or said, “I don’t want to do things around the kitchen!…” Now that’s not how the conversation exactly went, mainly orderwise, but those are statements she made. The point is that’s a very close replica, and I mean very close of what she had said to me. It was incredible: I’d just gotten back, and after a hellish near dragging of a heavy amount of smelly things, smelling myself and them the whole way, and as soon as I got back took a shower in an amount of time many people would be disgusted over, and having barely used up any time after that, there Isat was yelling at me for not finding the time to clean and oh God no, feeding her dog’s cheese when she took no time to play with her dogs or pet them and showed no real concern for them, even though I did, even with Buttercup! She also told me, I think almost after all her berating, that when I mop the kitchen floor not to leave it wet. What? Why if she hates to talk would she be playing Captain Obvious? It was stupid for her to mention that too because I’d repeatedly expressed dread over her slipping on very slippery office rug she stupidly keeps half inside her rug floored office and half outside on the slippery tiled floor, and sometimes outside of it. That rug is moving all the time always out of place, yet no matter how many times I tell her to get a rug holder, she doesn’t care or forgets, as if she doesn’t care about her own life or thinks she’s too smart to slip, even in her elderly and slow age. It’s also a danger to Yenti who has a problem walking, especially now, and with their German Shepard running around hyper at times. Also, I had after mopping, twice, walked all over the floor with a towel beneath my feet to make sure it was dry. But that’s how narcissists are: negative assumers. And now that I mention that, I have a related thought: It could be a sign when a kid’s parent keeps saying, “Clean your room” with no care if it’s already been cleaned and no matter how many times their kid says is it clean and shows it is clean, that that parent is a narcissist.

Now here is what made it very clear Isat was a narcissist: the night before when Yenti had his family over, I had given Isat a green quartz crystal cluster, and for some reason it had gotten a beautiful white encrustation(? not sure what it was) on it which wasn’t there before, but it made it very beautiful unlike when I had first gotten it, as if it were snow covered a little. I didn’t notice that when I was taking it out of my apartment, perhaps it was talcum powder. Regardless, Isat immediately with wonderment said, “This is beautiful.” And not more than 10 minutes after her harash berating of me, calm again, picked up the crystal cluster and said, “I can have this?” And I said, trying to work up some happiness, but couldn’t, turned my head and said, “Of course!” with a happy tone, and she replied while turning to walk away, “I love this, it’s beautiful.” Then, a few minutes later returned to tell me I could have some of the pancakes, and then, “The strawberry jelly and butter are there for the pancakes.” Ironically I’d just used them for that after she walked away with the crystals, but not wanting her to get angry immediately went back to washing the dishes, so didn’t even rest to digest any food (nor had I when I, for speed, microwaved some catfish meat Tai’s friend caught and gave to me yesterday during the day, after seeing me pick up a massive amount of dog poop quickly by hand with a bag over my hand, I think he saw that at least because when I came in he had a “I feel sorry for you” look on his face. And Isat by the way, many days before that, had expressed disgust over me saying I would use a bag over my hand to pick it up. she said, “You’d pick it up with your hand?” And I said, “That’s how those at apartments did, and said she used this (trash-picking up device, it was those kinds that are used by workers to pick up cigarette butts, though when I was about 20 or 21 I remember this horrible family called the “Thoburns”, one of whom owned a “Golf Park at Vienna”, who would have me pick them up by hand, which was a huge pain on my back. I remember one of their regulars, a teacher, asked me why I was doing that, a somewhat elderly man, and asked why I wasn’t using one of those devices, and he said, “You can’t do that, it will mess up your back” or something like that, and I suppose I replied, “I know.” For dog poop however, it was faster and easier, and to me, less gross. Why would I want to look at that stuff for long or play some game nearly with a clamp trying to pick up all the pieces? To me that’s worse. The bag way gets it done faster, and shouldn’t Isat have appreciated that? It’s now 4:10 PM, it was 1:40 PM when I started writing this. My own room is still a mess on one side and still filled in the two closets with her daughter’s junk! I could tell her daughter left in a rush to get away from this nightmare as besides it being filled with junk, the floor was covered, even under books and paper, with Buttercup’s skin. One of the things that amazed me when I saw, especially after now knowing what Isat is truly like, was seeing on her daughter’s wall with regards to how to behave, “Don’t talk back” I think it said, “Don’t talk back to parents”. I still have the paper somewhere. It’s 4:17 now.

Somethings also to note is that having no friends can also be a good sign of someone having narcissism disorder: when I asked, maybe after the 3rd day after moving in, if Tai could help me move out, Isat said, “Oh, he has to work” in a disengenious way. I noticed that often Tai is at home relaxing and doesn’t clean AT ALL, except now and then, his room, and I did see his room was well organized at least in one part, and Isat had to think hard of who among her RELATIVES could help me, and came up with no one, as opposed to being able to simply call a list of a healthy amount of friends. And Isat should have many friends, especially as a rich person and being apart of a large cult that is split into many large “stakes”, at least in Las Vegas. I noticed that Tai is not a Mormon, when I was alone with him I told him about a stalker cop that had stalked me (years ago), and with little and careless thought, he said, “Just kick his f**cking ass.” This was obviously not a Mormon, and I’ve not said one cuss word around him or the others so as to influence them to converse any of them with me in this way. Though last night I was talking with a helpful and friendly person I’ll call “DJ” who did use the f word now and then, and it came out of my mouth too while we talked, and I think one of Yenti’s relatives, a pretty teen girl, heard me talking that way when she listened in to what me and DJ were saying in the garage. It’s not how I prefer to talk if any of you wonder and I do try to avoid it. These days, with all this stress however, it’s extremely hard for me not to speak cleanly even when alone.

It’s not a surprise to me that a Mormon would have narcissism disorder, because they follow the teachings of narcissist: Joseph Smith, and raised to follow his way of life. It’s 4:28 now, I better get to work.

Among Isat’s hoarder tendencies is that she doesn’t want me to throw away those those plastic milk jugs. Ones that I suspect are tainted with BPA. Strangely she only has about 6 of them as far as I can see. Perhaps someone in her family is throwing them away? She said today, “We save these”, and earlier on the 4th day I moved in, maybe longer after that, she’d also said not to throw them away. And not long after I’d moved in, Yenti had said that “we” (the Mormons) didn’t believe in the last days or in survivalism, yet not long after that, Isat said she’d bought MRE’s in case of a disaster, and that earthquakes had happened before in Nevada. She suggested that she was going to get a barrel to fill with water when I suggested getting emergency water since you could live without food longer than water, and sterilizing it with chlorine pills, but she said there was some other way which I thought those pills were, but then I realized it wasn’t chlorine but neither of us could remember what the chemical was. She also said I should fill those milk/juice bottles with water in case of an emergency. When I suggested she get spears, she asked if it would be better to get a gun. I also suggested as I did earlier when she expressed distress over her electricity bill ($500 a month) that she get a solar set up, but she said instead she’d get a little one.

On the 24th, Sunday, she turned the heat on, and it was unbearable. She and Yenti were gone so I wasn’t able to rest in my room because I thought the control was in her room and I didn’t want to violate her privacy. When she came back many hours later, I asked about it and said I was very hot because of it, and her reply was (and remember this is many hours later), “Buttercup is cold.” When I asked if there was a way to stop it in my room, she said, “No” and then went to it and lowered it to 73 degrees Fahrenheit, but still wouldn’t turn it off or set it to automatic. So I had to wait for her to leave. Tis is a woman who when first taking me in to live with her said, “You’ll be treated like one of the family.”

It’s now 6:01 PM and the sun is still somewhat bright. I think about five days ago, one time she knocked on my door at 8 AM, and without a word left, and when I immediately opened it, found a vacuum right next to it. Talk about “rude” and “arrogant”. That’s almost like her standing in front of me out of the blue and pointing to a vacuum while starring at me. And what would that mean, am I supposed to be psychic Miss “I don’t like to talk” Isat? And wow, is that supposed to be the model example of a loving person and Mormon, an anti-social person? What if, in the morning, I’m going to the bathroom and Isat knocks, am I to shout from the bathroom while taking a shower or brushing my teeth? And if I don’t answer will she take that as a sign of rudeness or disobedience or not behaving like a family member?

About forty-five minutes ago I thought about going to their church and to suggest that he slyly somehow get Isat to give me a regular schedule rather than being subject to her narcissistic mood swings and assumptions about me “not finishing” or not having done anything and arbitrarily telling me when to rest and  work. But the thing is, there are a much higher amount of narcissists in narcissist spawned cults, so I have a higher risk of encountering a narcissist pastor who may side with Isat and who may tell her to bring me to church and wait for me to quickly convert or get rid of me for risking making their “Church” look bad by me spreading word about her being a bad person and therefor bad member. Even if I merely say that Isat is getting senile, if the narcissist pastor in one of his mood swings thinks, that because I’m not Mormon, that that’s “criticizing” their Church, which is a “no-no” in Mormonism, or might illogically think that I’m risking their income by upsetting a tithe-payer to their church, then I may end up back out in the desert. And just by mentioning Isat and Yenti and their son in their house by name, I risk some malicious narcissist Mormon using their geneological database to look them up to find out who I am and get me kicked out for daring to criticize his precious leader Joseph Smith. And how many Mormons who read this fully (and how many will read it carefully in the biased lifestyle they were raised in to walk away in anger from anyone who “has already made up their  mind about the Church” as if making up your mind is bad in and of itself, and merely because they “made it up” to be opposed to the bad things they learned about it, as if you must approve merely because of some shallow “good things” Mormons claim to do, or many even and ignore any bad, no matter how severely bad that fruit is. As if you should only focus on that one percent of the fruit that isn’t rotten and ignore the rest of the mushy slime it’s leaving all over your hand just by holding it, or the foul stench you smell from smelling it.

It’s now 8:32 PM. Isat and Yenti left with some family members of theirs. They’ve been gone for about one and half hours now. I’ve done a lot of cleaning, including of some of my property that I salvaged from the dumpster. Some of them smelled very bad. I’m getting read to get on the Internet to ask DJ to help me get a desk tonight or tomorrow that I hid in the desert and while I look through some bags of my stuff that I left there. I had told Isat not long before she left, that I would put salmon out to defrost, and that I would find it back in the refrigerator. And she told me it was her doing that, and that she was doing that in case we forgot it was out and it spoiled and to keep the dogs from eat it spoiled and that it boiled quickly so it wasn’t a big deal. However that was a ridiculous and rude thing to say, because I didn’t say I did that for the dogs, but it was meant for me, and my way of saving her power. And her stove had poor efficiency and she knew that. Strangely, she wouldn’t use her microwave as I sometimes did to feed myself. I had even told her that I ate the salmon raw, so for her to put it back in was yet another callous act that showed she had narcissism disorder. It was also rude in that again, she was showing more concern for the dogs that me or the rest of her family. For example, her son Tai will almost entirely eat Cup of Noodle soup because, as I predicted he’d say when I asked, “It takes too long, and that’s all they’ve got.” Maybe it wouldn’t take so long if his mom wouldn’t sabatoge his or the rest of her family’s efforts to get things done quickly, and in a rational way. It was also ridiculous because salmon doesn’t spoil that fast. What’s also ridiculous is that she told me many days ago, with a smile, that she always burns things when I told her I wasn’t always good with not burning food. So, if it’s the case she’s always burning things (and I found evidence of that when I found burned hot dogs not long after moving in) due to her poor memory, then why not try mine? And why worry when her and the rest of her family and I am often in the kitchen, and as I said earlier, told me to constantly watch it. Such is the mind of a narcissist.

Consider this too, concerning Isat’s rude comment that I shouldn’t complain: when I was talking with DJ in the garage on the 24th, I asked if he wanted to go inside to eat, or for some other reason, and he said, “I don’t want to go inside because of the smell.” Consider that I’d cut, in my opinion, more than half that smell away, and he’d only briefly come in; if all my work and hard cleaning and bleaching for days didn’t get rid of the extremeness of that bad smell from her dog, how then can Isat say I shouldn’t complain about the conditions of my stay? I can’t even get a guest of mine in for more than few seconds without them curling their nose and leaving in disgust? That’s reasonable and not something to complain about on top of her bad treatment, her rude and irrational behavior towards me, the stuffed, dirty, smelly room she gave me, and her persistent delaying or refusal to get genuine deodorizers and air purifiers or to put any she has to work, and her turning on the heat on despite it making me miserable so that her heavily diseased dog won’t shiver, and when she has plenty to cover it up with and the money buy a room heater for it?! And it is in that room most of the time, sitting depressed and in pain, and moves it’s head away and holds it up when I try to pet it, and me not even touching it. And consider this: When I first told Isat I had psoriasis and that it got worse with stress, her reply was, “You need to relax.” So, I need to relax by cleaning nonstop and resting, sleeping, waking and going to the bathroom at her whims? That’s her idea of relaxing and a good life? No wonder her daughter wasn’t able to keep her room clean and their parents won’t ask their son to work for them. My guess is that he’s paying them to leave him alone so that he can live life like a normal person. And how’s this for relaxation, the Sunday before the last one, Yenti, when I asked if he wanted anything done, he replied, “Sunday is a day of rest.” But when I told him about a immature argument/little fit one of my supervisors, “D.B.” at “The Golf Park in Vienna” where I used to work over me saying I didn’t think it was right to work on Sundays, Yenti then changed his story to, “Sometimes you have to.” And last Sunday, when Isat went off to do her bood work job, and she turned around in her parking lot, and her last words were, “Daniel, try ot throw out some trash.” And that I did as I showed with some pictures and videos that day when I cleaned her office and majorly renovated and beautified it that day and the next. But did she show appreciate for it, as I said earlier, “No.” And instead she even said, repeatedly, to clean the beautiful futon I put in it, while ignoring that the couch by it she regularly sleeps on apparently, is horribly filthy and no doubt saturated with the stench of her diseaesd dog and her step daughter’s German Shephard, Brutus.

It’s now 8:51 PM, and I’m sitting painfully on some large rocks by a building to access the Internet, typing on a laptop with half it’s screen being impossible to use.

(I went home at about 9:45 PM, after finally, after days of not having done so, opening up some tabs – in my browser – to check the world news.)

It’s now 11:44 PM, and I had done more work, cleaning off my own things and Isats. And my psoriasis has flared up greatly and I am itching like crazy from how she treated me today and remembering all of this Hell she’s put me through and no thanks to Yenti, who like the youth pastor of GV Christian church, did not warn me that Isat was mentally ill. And he is an ex-police officer, so he knows that warning people about criminally minded people is the moral thing to do. How long do you think I’ll be able to stay under Isat’s crippled, decayed, horribly smelly, failing wing? It’s 6:19 PM, and a few minutes ago I heard a hard knock on my door, should I assume it’s Isat wanting me to do work or check to see if it’s one of the dogs trying to get in as they sometimes try to do? What kind of life am I going to have living here with this new madness?

It’s now 11:47 PM, and I really want to post this story on my blog now, before tomorrow comes.

It’s now 1:43 AM, the 27th. Instead of going out to post this to my blog earlier, I instead to remove the horrible bed that used to belong to Isat’s daughter, which wiped me out. I put it in her choir room not knowing if she’d allow me to throw it out or not without her exploding in anger and because I didn’t know if the trash disposal company would throw it out or not being that it was a queen sized mattress. I’m exhausted, and my scalp is still severely itching.

It’s now 3:15 AM, and I finally got back on the Internet a few minutes ago, and a few minutes before that I found Isat had been boiling a slice of salmon for a little longer than it should have been. She was apparently on the Internet again, and still keeping me from using the wifi and despite seeing my laptop on a kitchen table when she came in a few minutes after me turning off the stove and chopping up the salmon for her dogs, (yes, she feeds them in the middle of the morning, and and a result they make am abnormally huge amount of poop in their backyard more quickly than is normal for dogs that eat a proper amount), not asking one word about whether or not I was able to get on the Internet successfully since days ago despite me saying I couldn’t back then. And she said, “I thought you were asleep,” and I replied, “I couldn’t sleep because I was in too much pain.” As always, she asked, “What?”. She always, and I mean that literally, asks, “What” after I speak. Apparently she’s hard of hearing and for no reason I can figure out other than her being a stingy or prideful person, won’t use a hearing aid). But so I repeated and added, “because of all the moving.” She of course gave no compassionate response, let alone any response. She did offer me the salmon meant for the dogs though, but being that she’s a narcissist and knowing she valued her personal dog more, I dared not eat from it.

It’s now 3:26 AM. And to any of you fault finding Mormons who want to accuse me, in your hypocrisy, of being a fault-finder, arguing that in my retelling of the past days of my life, especially over Isat, and second her husband and third her son Tai: try living my life and in the situation I’ve described, then you can judge, and on top of that, as I pointed out: stop being fault-finders yourselves by calling me one, without evidence and when I’m pointing out worthy criticisms to note. Stop trying to sugar coat and blind everyone from reality so that you can keep up your lying without having to feel even a tinge of guilt or worry that you’ll be found out as false teachers and blind followers. And, this is literally in my estimation, about 85% of the things Isat has said to me, the rest being worthless talk. And she herself said to me in anger, “I don’t like to talk much”, so then, I’m truly pointing out the little she has said to me each day, from before the 20th of March up to now, the 27th. If anyone is a fault-finder, it’s a narcissist, and Isat. Furthermore, to cover up the acts of a cruel animal abuser would indicate that you who want to make, “You’re being a fault-finder” hit and run jabs are narcissists yourselves or heavily deluded by your Mormon brainwashing. To long abuse an animal is a clear sign of an unkind, unloving and evil person: “Whoever is righteous has regard for the life of his beast, but the mercy of the wicked is cruel.” – Proverbs

And what Mormon after reading this would like to prove to me, with his kindness, putting his money and house where is mouth is, to prove there are good Mormons and that their founder, Joseph Smith, wasn’t a narcissist?

Some of the Hell I’ve Been Through At Mesa Club Apartments, Henderson, NV

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 ifototrick@gmail.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 truthspeek@gmail.com