All Baths Must End

This is the official post saying that this is the end of the blog! Thank you for reading.


Jurassic World movie (spoilers and weird interpretations)

I’ve read enough conspiracy theory / new age websites to guess at “hidden messages” in movies, so I’ll go ahead and give it a shot.

The big dinosaur (main villain) = the old white draco elite ET(s), or white reptilian royal(s).

Raptors = the illuminati “blue blood” family members and cabal members who have defected and end up helping the Earth Alliance/Resistance, or Secret Space Programs (SSPs). These represent folks who used to be the bad guys but are now fighting for the good guys (with questionable ethics or goals, at times).

T-Rex = one of the SSP groups? Or an ancient underground civilization? Old enemies of the dracos?

Water Dinosaur = Another SSP? ETs who are just “passing by” and happened to get caught up in the fight?

Chris Pratt’s character = Earth Alliance? The Resistance? SSPs/military?

Mass of people in the middle of the park, wondering what’s going on out there = me.

07 / 07 on the back of the seats of the wrecked car = the seventh of July? (Mass arrests? The Event? Full Disclosure? Who knows.)

As you can tell by the number of question marks, I’m guessing at a lot, here.

On the topic of dates, I think this is the first movie I’ve noticed that begins with a Christmas/snow theme and does not premiere during that holiday season. Therefore, I had the impression that the movie was rushed (or else was late in getting to theaters).

So at the end, there were three strong groups (Raptors, T-Rex, and the water dinosaur) that tag-teamed the white dinosaur. Bam, bam, bam! And the white one couldn’t really deal with all of them at once like that (and “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” concept was at play, there).

The final take-down was perfectly timed, I thought.

Supposedly, the Illuminati/Cabal/Whatever let us know what they’re planning before they do it (often through movies like this), and supposedly the “magic” can work for the positive, as well. IF that is so, then the “good guys” (Earth Alliance, SSPs, Solar Warden, Illuminati defectors, positive ETs, etc) may be planning a big tag-team take-down of the “bad guys.” If they’re hoping for “permission” of the masses, then you’ve got mine, partly. You guys have my conscious permission to tag-team the reptilians and bring them in to have trials for crimes against humanity (along with the others). If that’s even possible. I have no idea, really, but the thought of rehabilitating the reptilians and having them be loving and kind again seems nice, rather than just killing them.

Just based on ideas I picked up from some of these sites:

There’s also Vigilant Citizen, but I haven’t really gone there in a few years.

Seeking advice on feeling lovable and worthy (and seeing family members as such)

Bashar’s advice (through Darryl Anka) has been great for me and helped me to live a much better life (internally, especially. Like, in my mind and heart). Bashar suggests (and I’ve found this to be true so far) that the negative beliefs about ourselves will never be really found to be true, if we dig a little and look at them.

Most things I can solve on my own by just thinking things through, but now I feel stuck on something and I thought it would be a good idea to ask the WordPress community about it.

I’ve been watching seasons one and two of Breaking Bad (Netflix series) and I find myself feeling uncomfortable watching the relationship between the two sisters because it reminds me of my own life. I feel like the pregnant one could be my sister and the other would be me (although I do not feel compelled to steal).

I currently do not talk to any family members (blood/biological) or their relatives. I feel like I need to hide myself from family members for some reason, as if it’s completely dangerous to be honest with them; I feel compelled to lie to, say, my sister, and keep some shallow façade of happiness and “everything’s ok” (or at least I did in the past, when I had contact with any of them). Whenever I tried to be honest, it seemed to cause negative effects.

I have the idea that if I show them my true self, then I (and they) will find out what a horrible, bad, evil, worthless and unlovable person I really am.

The question I then posed to myself is: How can I show myself (and maintain the belief) that I am actually the opposite—lovable, worthy, good, nice, whole, peaceful? I feel like I am already these things, but when I start thinking about family members, it’s easy to forget.

Then I had the idea: Maybe I can work backwards. If others are a reflection of me, then maybe I can switch to seeing/believing that they are not horrible and evil—no one is. (I can label everything as positive, no matter what it looks like on the surface.) Since my family is a reflection of me, I can use that reflection to then think and believe those same positive things about myself.

And it works! …For about 5 minutes. Then my mind (for reasons I don’t yet consciously understand) goes back into fear. I find myself obsessively thinking about them some days, and not thinking about them other days. I don’t really grasp why I forget the positive person I want to be and I feel ugly and bad, and ashamed and embarrassed. I don’t understand why all of my wonderful, new, positive views slip away when it comes to family members. Why is it difficult to maintain? What am I missing, here?

Additionally, since the family members are not in my life anymore (except in my head), it should actually be quite easy to change the way I view them, because they are not here to contradict me. The only thing contradicting me is myself, my mind, my memories.

I know I haven’t given much information in this post, but based on what you’ve just read, what do you think?

My solution to the “Gypsy/Rom beggar problem”

Allow the gypsies/rom to make their own decisions. Their experiences and perspectives are valid; otherwise they wouldn’t exist. If I have an interaction with them that causes me to have emotional experiences that I don’t prefer, then ask myself: What do I have to believe about myself in relation to this situation (or a person or life in general) is true, in order to feel what I’m feeling? It’s likely that I’ll uncover a negative belief about myself that is not true.

This is inspired by Bashar (not the politician from the Middle East, but rather Darryl Anka) and I feel like this currently works for me.
Bashar home page link.
Wikipedia link.

I am sharing it so that you can see this as one possible option for you to consider.


After moving from the United States to Europe, I was unsure about how to handle or deal with the sight of, and interactions with, beggars who come mostly from Romania.

I’d not been satisfied with other solutions I’d come up with over the past one and a half year. My obsessive thoughts would include gentler, kinder actions such as teaching them English or giving them educational/skill books in the Romanian language; unfortunately my imagination would include more violent thoughts, as well, which would merely result in me feeling annoyed and guilty.

My ideas, however, would always include some kind of arrogant element of the idea that their lifestyle is not ok and they need to change their lives into something that I believe is more suitable for modern/western society. My fantasies of “helping” them often snow-balled into me being some type of parent or babysitter, taking over their lives for them like a well-intentioned dictator because of a belief that they are incapable of living a proper life… whatever that meant.

Eventually, I concluded: Instead of trying to heal them, why not heal myself, instead? That’s kind of one of the ideas behind that first paragraph, up there. Now I feel more free and relaxed; not so stressed-out.


Since moving to Europe in 2013, I’d emptied out the box in my brain that was labeled: new age ideas, spirituality and conspiracy theories (yes, they were all lumped together). I’d decided that I was done with all of it. I attempted to fill that box with scientific and rational ideas, but I found myself lacking the spiritual component that I used to have, say, 5-6 years ago, with the starseed / light-worker meditation group.

In January or February 2015, I couldn’t take any more of the angry, frustrated, empty feelings and I wandered back to some YouTube clips of Bashar. What he said made a lot of sense and I figured that as long as these spiritual beliefs bring joy and purpose, and aren’t telling me to go out and murder others, then what does it matter if it is seen as silly or crazy to others? The experience of joy, love, and moving closer to being my authentic, happy self, is real and it gives me a better life.


When you have emotional experiences that you don’t prefer, ask: What do I have to believe about myself, in relation to this situation (or this person, or life in general), is true, in order to feel what I’m feeling? It’s likely that you’ll discover a negative belief about yourself that is not actually true.

Feeling Disillusioned After Dec 21, 2012

I was totally ready for whatever changes that the New Age internet people and the whistle-blowers had predicted for December 21, 2012. They had all seemed so convincing. The body language of the whistle-blowers in the YouTube interviews and the lecturers of New Age spiritual ideals were genuine and honest.

I bought it—lock, stock and barrel. I thoroughly mentally prepared myself for anything and everything that had been predicted—whether it was Planet X approaching, pole shifts, aliens landing en masse, or the crash of the U.S. dollar and martial law. I was ready to help humanity cope with some Great Revelation of Reality, including revealing myself as… (broken drumroll) …a star seed.

A month or two into 2013 and I began to realize that no great change had happened in December.

I gradually questioned the whole New Age ascension and Love stuff, and the dozens of conspiracy theories with their stories of black ops, mind control, chemtrails and alien cover-ups.

I felt awful and embarrassed. Disillusioned.

Everything suddenly seemed like a lie and I realized that it was I who now had to deal with my own revelation of reality to myself. 

I felt betrayed by the New Age community, abandoned by the non-existent alien beings, and angry at the world for not changing into the lovely, ideal bliss that we envisioned. I began to see the Law of Attraction as straight-up bullshit.

By summer 2013, I started to give up. Over the following 6 months, I quietly unsubscribed from all of the emails and blog updates that had anything to do with 2012 predictions and conspiracy theories. I gave up the New Age stuff. I no longer struggle with knowing what to trust because I have removed myself from those online circles where people talked about that kind of stuff. What kind of stuff, exactly? Anything that could possibly fall under “new age” and “conspiracy theory.” I’ve dumped it all out.

I don’t even know what is predicted next, or what the newest whistle-blowers are talking about. I vaguely heard something about Prism and Edward Snowden, but I didn’t care anymore—I didn’t want to get dragged down into it. And I don’t think I’ll go back.

I am visibly happier now in my life, especially with where I live and who I’m with, yet I have an amount of sadness that reveals itself occasionally whenever conversations or thoughts drift towards spirituality. Not always, but often enough to annoy me and leave me with a desire to figure it out and fix it.

August 18, 2011 (Women’s Homeless Shelter)

August 18, 2011

So I think I’ve covered the basic story, up to entry into the women’s homeless shelter in the main city.

[Reference posts: August 17, 2011 (Build-up to the Homeless Shelter, Part 1)
August 18, 2011 (Build-up to the Homeless Shelter, Part 2)]


That night, I drove straight from the suburbs into the city. I checked in to the shelter around 9:30 or 10:00PM. I was so nervous that I didn’t eat anything, despite being offered dinner several times.


In the lobby area were an Asian woman with gray hair, and a black woman.

I sat next to the black woman (looked like some Native American in her, too) named Dee. I’m not sure how to spell her full name. Her voice was very comforting, soothing, and she had a kind aura/energy. She and I are becoming friends quickly, because we connect on some important beliefs about the truth of our world. She believes in Jesus, but also speaks out against the lies and corruption of religion. She knows about the Illuminati and chem trails, etc.

She felt timid about talking about feeling like she’s not from Earth, or feeling like “home” is now somewhere besides Earth…

…Timid, because in this shelter, there is a fine line between sanity and insanity.


All the stereotypes of homeless people are found here—most residents have some type of mental and physical illnesses. People talk to themselves, etc.

I found one young woman (not Dee) with whom I can have conversations about 2012, Reiki energy, spirits, and chakras. Unfortunately, this is also the same young woman who says she conjures Jedi Knights and Sith Lords in her bedroom, and transforms into a werewolf on the full moon, with all 100% seriousness in her face.

People scream at 1:00AM, people cuss each other out, people get possessive over chairs during meal times, and nearly everyone smokes, here. Many people have asked if I work here. I’m sure I have “suburban, college girl” written all over my chippy, cheerful forehead. But I find that I have a better time blending in with the crowd if I frown, stare at the ground, walk slower and drag my feet.

Lots of folks are “ticking time bombs”—frustrated at life and ready to yell at the next person who approaches. Lots of people blame others for everything that goes wrong.


The first night I came here, Dee was talking to the Asian woman, encouraging her to speak up for what she needs. I agree with speaking up, but the part I disagreed with was the reason why—Dee said it’s important to ask for what we need/want because we are customers, here. Non-paying customers, but customers none-the-less; the shelter employees are giving us (the residents) a service, and therefore we are customers. And in the eyes of the “Western World of Business,” this means that we have a right to ask for—and receive—whatever the fuck we want.

So I disagree. I believe we are guests in a home run/owned by someone kind enough to let us in without paying. The food, beds, hot showers, toilets, towels and linens are all borrowed gifts. Aka: Bonuses. Not entitlements to be taken for granted.

Maybe I naturally think this way, or maybe it’s simply because I was previously basically living in a forest, with mosquitoes day and night, limited food, not legally welcome, no toilet, a psuedo-shower, and no laundry ability. (Well, I probably could have used the biodegradable shampoo and pond water for laundry, but I tried to hold off as long as possible on that…)

So this shelter, to me, is heaven. It’s all relative. I don’t really care if the peas and green beans are served luke-warm, or if the only breakfast option is a bagel and cereal. It’s free. And it’s legal, according to the “Almighty System.” (sarcasm)


I think my bed has bed bugs. The sheets get washed by an outside company, en masse, weekly. But there are so many people here. Sometimes the corners in the building smell like urine, but not for too long. They do have a cleaning crew, here.


I use ear plugs at night. It’s almost a nightly ritual for this particular section of the shelter to erupt into some loud yelling in the middle of the night. If it’s not yelling/cussing (“Bitch, please! I will knock you out!”) at each other, then it’s yelling on their cell phones at some guy. And how the fuck do they afford a cell phone if they are living here? I don’t have a phone. Wouldn’t they want to get the fuck out, and into their own space, asap? Priorities, ladies! Well, maybe not everyone needs as much privacy and solitude from phone calls as I do.


This place is designed like a dorm room, with bunk beds separated by corners and walls that go up to the ceiling (like a maze).


People/residents here have “case workers,” but with 170+ residents with people sleeping on gym mats or old karate mats in the basement, it’s a little difficult to get personal attention and help. [The case workers were highly overworked.] So I’ve been asking Dee and other residents for information and I’m trying to take charge of my destiny as much as possible.

The second or third day I was here, I applied for food stamps [the state gives the approved applicant a card that can be used like a credit card, with a set amount of monthly money on it, to buy certain types of food].

A few days later, I searched [using the local library computers] for apartments and found one that works with something called Section 8, which, as I understand it, is governmental financial assistance with housing/rent. I’ve signed up for the “Section 8 Lottery,” which is a drawing held once in a while for people to get random financial assistance. There are rumors that the lottery is fixed and that it goes to friends and family of the people who run the lottery. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was the truth, since our presidential elections are also rigged.

So I think I’m making good progress.

I’ve also obtained a “letter of residency,” given to residents of the women’s shelter after the first 5 days of living here. I’ve used it to get food stamps and to get a library card, so I can stop asking for a Guest Pass to check my email on their computers. The food stamp thing is an electronic card. Most likely, I’ll get $200 per month.


I wish I could have a kitchen to cook something, instead of always eating raw food [from the local grocery stores] or depending on the shelter’s food. They serve meat with every meal.

Tonight, my dinner was a “big ol’ plate of peas,” as the cook/server described it [the only other food on the plate would have been some kind of gross-looking meat], because I’m still trying to remain a vegetarian, although I did recently eat lasagna noodles surrounded with meat and meat sauce.

The $60 from the cop is already long-gone. I spent every penny of it on gas, to get back and forth to work in the suburbs and sleeping at the shelter in the city.

I found a place yesterday that serves breakfast to needy at 8:00AM, right after the 7:30AM women’s shelter breakfast. It’s bagels and Rice Krispies, but at least it’s something. The meals at the shelter feel like they don’t fill me up properly, and I often feel ill and malnourished. And the constant coughing from some of the women here doesn’t exactly help my health.