Sunday, 29 November 2015

My Life in Brazil before I Came

I am thinking of finding a more secure place for a while and I just noticed that as soon as I wrote parquetry for reasons of describing an episode I went through when I was about five years old with my father, all the properties appearing on where I am, those for rental, seem to have parquetry. I then decided to describe the way in which I used to live in Brazil before I came to see if I finally get an apartment that could at least match my standards before coming for a price I can pay. 

My existence became gambling since that horrific end of 2001: That seem to have sealed it all. If I can guess what the others are thinking and what they will do based on what I do, then I will choose the right thing for me. Since I am realistically a disaster at gambling and I had no idea regarding the fact that my existence could become what the others think or want, as it is all these 14 + demoniac years, nothing works as it should or very little does, and that includes no post for sure for extraordinary 10 years (at most 5% of the postal items directed to me will ever reach me, especially in what has to do with my PO Box in Melbourne).

I used to live in a two-bedroom, fully carpeted, apartment (apart from the two bathrooms and kitchen, which were all made with tiles on the walls and nice flooring of the type stone on the bottom). It was also air-conditioned, latest model, which, despite being modern, left a big sweating box outside. Inside it was all elegant, however: Just a tiny rectangular-sort of piece. I had a microwave, which I was always using, and an adult-sized fridge with a very decent freezer. My living room had modern TV and video-machine. I had an ensuite and a normal bedroom with bathroom in front of it. Two BIRs with mirror on the door, about five doors, weak wood. I also had a large desk, very comfortable, with a desktop on it and a printer. 

I used to do gym close to the security building where I lived because there was nothing else around. That was a suburb, about 30 minutes away from the city and about one hour from the military club. I also did some acting together with a local group, some private tuition, sometimes at my place, very rarely. The building had intercom and a security door which was very far from the doormen, who used to be there 24/7. The person had to ring for me to authorize their entrance and the doorman would still check them in. 

There was a bar, where I frequently went for nibbles, such as sandwiches and drinks, and a playground plus ample garage. 

Our lobby had mirrors and two lifts. 

My white Gol, a zero car, was at the garage close to the time I moved to Australia. 

The apartment was just for myself and my boyfriend, if I ever had any.

I once shared it with an uncle of mine who I used to care a lot about and I thought that he was a good friend of mine: Murillo Francisco de Assis Puget. He created financial problems for me in the period, along with others. He is one of the so few people in Brazil that I know have denounced the atrocities I endure to the authorities, despite being somehow active part in them. He denounced all to the Catete Police Station, where I put one of my denouncements, this time involving those who lived there, including him. I did mention him as a reference name and I was sure he would tell the truth. He so did. The civil police there alleges it is all a federal issue, apparently, and that is why justice and restoration of rights have never happened. The most they did was sending one of their male cops to accompany me here for a while. That was by the time I was at the Maze in Sydney. The police station chief was a woman and I spoke to her on the telephone once. She was also black and carioca.

I was supposed to share it with my father instead, but my father died in a car accident in 1991, so that I ended up there on my own or sharing with my boyfriend, whoever I was with, or sharing with my uncle, what lasted for a few months. 

I used to work to the other side of the train tracks, so that I would go by car and park at Senai/Cetiqt every day. That was the safest and the only real safe way to do things. I would then get my air-conditioned, perhaps 2.0 or a bit less, car, cross the tunnel and go to the school, where I worked every day from 7 AM to 5 PM if I recall well.

Senai was the best academic environment I have ever been to in Brazil because of Miran Steves, I reckon. His ideas were usually exemplary. Every Christmas, each one of us would get a Christmas basket from Senai, for instance, and that basket did contain quality products that we were all very happy to get. It was a family basket, so that it lasted for a really long time in my hands. We had a huge ball cheese, good cheese, strawberry jam, and lots of other nice items in it. It was really nice and big enough. 

We also had a refectory inside of the premises and we usually would have lunch there, all of us. The food was very reasonable and pleased us all. 

By the end of the year, we would have an end-of-year party all together.

The place had swimming pool, but I myself would not go there ever.

We still had a snack bar, manicure and lots of other things inside, so that it was full of life and community feeling.

It is a shame that those people decided to badly violate my rights as well. Anna Filipecki and Edimando Cordeiro are apparently the worst ones. They seem to be interfering with my Australian affairs, very criminally, since at most end of 2001. None of them ever spoke to me before doing that. 

I spoke to Anna Fillipecki when I was in Brazil in 2003/4 and she denied having anything to do with anything that happened in Australia, but she mentioned that she would like to give her husband to me or something to that extent. She told me he was a physicist, like her ex-husband. She had already committed several crimes against me at Senai/Cetiqt, Anna Fillipecki. Novelty was Edimando Cordeiro, whose conduct that far I saw as at most unethical, but not really criminal. He married a female student from Senai and started dating her whilst teaching her. I am not sure about how old she was, so that there is a chance his conduct was already criminal back then. 

Some of his ex-students, black females, seem to have defamed me here. At least once I think I met one of them face-to-face, which was when I visited a courses provider. I was after a job. She bullied me as I passed and I then identified her as a Senai student, but not my own. 

I left Senai in shock with all that I had gone through there in the end, specially the death of the doorman, whose life I did all I thought I could to defend, as I told on another blog post from Blogger. I got really disappointed with Anna, who told me that basically I lost her on that day for bothering about that doorman. She told me that there were oppressed and oppressors and if I chose to defend the oppressed, I basically would end up like them. All that has happened to me in these last 14 years plus is definitely what I would classify as her face, very unfortunately, so that I did indeed end up like the doorman.

I did insist in defending his life and I then got the worst as possible from her from there onward.

As I said on another blog here, this so nice and hardworking man lost his life for a black kid who shot him to death simply because he had removed it from the swimming pool, which belonged to our students, as it was his duty, on a weekend. He did not touch the kid or anything, just made sure they would be out, but when they went out they put some bullets, empty capsules, on his hand, and said that the next ones would be inside of his body. 

I asked to leave the place and we organized things in a way that I would get the most of it, as for financial allowances. 

On top of my private classes, acting, and all that, I still did some translation work and programming whilst I was there. I worked as hard as I could my entire life and, in particular, when I was there, all I could think of is how much I would like to never have been in Rio, so that I worked as much as I could to put money together and pay all the missing installments of the mortgage, as well as all expenses of the place. I paid as much as I could in advance, so that I decreased the time of the mortgage in an extraordinary way, finishing paying it quite a few years before the set date. Nobody ever put a cent there apart from me since my father stopped putting his money in, what happened as soon as he died. Murillo, whilst sharing the place with me, did contribute with something. I take that to be subletting. I think he paid 100 bucks or something like that to me per month. He was really nice and helpful at all times he was with me or around me, and that is why, amongst all my relatives, I had chosen him to favor. Once, I had to punch a hole in the wall to put a hammock in the living room and he was there the entire day, with the drill because he claimed that the hole was not appearing, believe it or  not. I left for work and he was there. I arrived from work and he was there, with the drill on. Oh, I just loved that uncle! He did annoy people quite a lot, and did annoy me sometimes as well, and sometimes very badly, but, compared to all my other relatives, apart from mum, dad, and myself, he was gain, like he was the only one to give me a positive overall result, I reckon. I sometimes made things like party sweets and took to his house when we were not sharing a place. Rogerio got really upset one of those days, on which I took him with me. I had prepared what is there called negrinho (little negro), which is a sweet made of sweetened condensed milk. Rogerio liked it very much, but was completely against me helping uncle Murillo and giving him some for some reason. That was a dish with perhaps twenty to thirty of them. I hate cooking and that was unusual, but I knew he would appreciate that and I then took to him. My grandma used to help him a lot and give him some serious pampering, including things like that, before she died. I really adored my grandma.  

I remember having invited him to share the place with me for getting really upset with Rogerio. He was finally with a little job in teaching, working in a place in the South Zone, and I then demanded that he helped me with something, even if it were a bill. He rejected the idea badly. He had two or four hours of teaching per week. I then decided that Murillo would be there even to prevent me from being with him again, basically. 

In the last six months, I became vice-manager of the building in order to raise the value of the property. I then raised its value from miserable 20 K to 50 K. I actually also managed to sell it to an ex-fellow of mine. He had studied with me somewhere, perhaps UERJ, postgraduate course (we sit for an entrance exam and pay a fee: It is not public). 

I had to drive people and carry old women by the arm, on top of visiting banks and others, in order to clear the apartment because my father had left it with a lot of problems in terms of documentation. 

I had built and organized an enormous wooden shelf, made of real wood, in the last bedroom a relatively long time before I moved, I had painted things with my hands, I had added beautiful vertical curtains to all pieces of the place, and I still had helped adding divisions to the shower cubicle whilst I was there. 

I meticulously split all my collections of bits and pieces of paper and tagged them all, also keeping them inside of folders, so that I had even Primary School exams in the plastic folders that I kept over that long shelf. 

It was all very much my taste, including the metallic pieces of furniture. I had a single metallic bed, green, and a shelves rack, metallic and green, which I really liked because it was the best way to keep insects and other things, such as dust, away. 

I would sometimes call a cleaner to come around, perhaps weekly, once, so that I would not have to do things myself, and I would frequently order pizza from the places around, since I really love pizza and it is so practical! I could get gigantic pizza, made of Catupiry and chicken as well as others for 10 reals, which is like 10 AU$ in 2000, when I came. Sometimes my fridge would have just the gigantic pizza and juice and I would feed from it for two days even, believe it or not.

The delivery people were usually quite nice and well behaved, so that nobody thought that was a bad thing in the building.

I tried to have two dogs when I was becoming braver and could keep away from Rogerio for longer (he was a total pain and only pain after the first two years were over): one, which I called Puppy, and even took pictures of, was a Fox Terrier and was given to me as if she were a male, that being the only reason why I bought it. My ignorance of nature issues is realistically legendary, I must confess. I took her to the vet for vaccination and that is when I found out that it was a she. I still remember the female vet taking a scoff at me, calling me mum, and saying, mum thought you were a he, baby, or something to that extent (SOB!). I used to cover the entire place with newspaper, since I was an avid reader of the news, before departing. Very unfortunately, despite my efforts of even locking Puppy in the kitchen before I got out, she would invariably end up by the bathroom sniffing my hair, hanging on to it, and would then come all happy when I arrived, but, as soon as party was over, I would notice what she had done and the place would be all badly pooped, like invariably. I got tired of Puppy really quickly. I had to clean all every day and she would never stick to the kitchen. Sometimes she would rip the paper off and I would have to de-stain the carpet. I then did get rid of her, passed her onward, unfortunately. The second dog was quiet as heavens. Cute in all senses, but cried during the entire night for me to take him out to pee and poo. By the seventh day, I was with bags in my eyes, both, and I thought that that was the same hell as having a baby: It is just that I never wanted to have one! It would be easier and more logical having one if I kept it, so that I also passed that one onward, very unfortunately. I also thought he could die if I left him on his own, since he would never get out of the box and would always cry to poo and pee. When I got to the pet store, he flew from the box to the hands of the seller and it was just lucky that he got it, basically. I tripped over something at the entrance and, definitely unexpectedly, he ended up there. I got a real shock and thought I was gonna kill the creature. The seller got really mad and was almost calling me assassin. It was all nonsensical. It was brown and I have no idea of the breed, but they told me. 

I was OK in the building, they seemed to be nice people. The woman next door to me was a pain and really prostitute-like, so that I did endure a bit more of real loss and pain when Rogerio and her were both around, very unfortunately. She had a husband and everything, but the figure was legendary in the building. Coincidentally, the husband was manager when I was vice and he also came up with stuff to my side, so that I felt really disgusted about them all in the end of my period there. 

I used to like my bar attendant, and she served me always with a smile and conversation. She took care of the bar with her husband, and I love this sort of thing, of family-like business, since this is what I got from the Italians where I was born (Porto Alegre). I think her name was Valdice. That one I really liked and admired: Just the fact that she had a real family and served us well every day, that she had no bad day, and therefore was something just like me, was a real blessing. Perhaps her husband was called Fernando. I used to do gym and stop by there to eat the hugest sandwich she offered. They all scoffed at me because of that. 

I did not like one of our doormen because he seemed to be very scoundrel-like and frequently skipped what he had to do. He was there because he created a mafia-feeling, told me my neighbor when we were both administering all. I was about to leave the building anyway, so that I did not insist on getting him out. He was also an old man and we have this tradition, of not letting them down by the end of life or close to their retirement time, if nobody fired them that far (in Brazil). 

In general, the building was family-like, I reckon, and my father chose very well. It is a real shame that his trip to Porto Alegre was a one-way sort of deal, quite sincerely.

I only had one party there, a birthday party. That was an idea of my boyfriend and Tarcisio Dantas was one of the people who attended. Unfortunately, the boyfriend and his friends almost destroyed our lift that day by jumping inside of it. I got a wonderful tart from Tarcisio and he said he made it himself. If I remember well, it was in the shape of a heart, and it was the most delicious thing I have ever eaten in my life (also because he said he made himself, of course). It was a gigantic brownie, but the best I had ever tasted. He actually had really nice brownies at home too. Wow! What a wonderful taste. He attended with a woman who he introduced to us as his girlfriend. I am a really reserved person and I really do not like opening my home to others. I think that home really is a personal space. My boyfriend is the one who insisted and I then did that. The event would never repeat because of the incidents with the lift: I really do not tolerate vandalism or things like that. It was nice in the rest of it. 

I still studied at UFRJ at night soon before coming to Australia. In my last months in Rio, I taught at a course called Superior, a course that taught adults in the evening with the intentions of preparing them for the university. The owner of this course was quite nice and generous with me, so that I did regret quite a lot having chosen Anna Fillepecki instead of him to list on my resume, since I believe that is how she ended up attacking me in Australia. This man was really nice, definitely not a sexist, and I unfortunately cannot recall not even his name. I used to go there by bus, I think I had already sold my car, and I do not recall the name of the suburb or his name for some reason.




Wednesday, 18 November 2015

Wine and Food

For those who don't know, there is some art involved in drinking wine whilst ingesting food. 

Lea Maria knew all about it and even had a chart: For instance, fish should be eaten with white wine and red meat with red wine. 

That is actually based on scientific studies of how the palate reacts to the contact with those elements, believe it or not.

A bit of research, for instance, brings some results on matching wine and food.

Match Food with Wine is a good place to look for what wine matches the type of food you will consume: Just click on the option Find a Match and then enter whatever you want to have with wine in the white rectangle.

There are still the details, such as that Port Wine should probably be a dessert wine (On Port), and therefore be consumed after the meal is over, perhaps to declare to our stomach that it is all really over. 




Asylum and First World

From reading Tracking, we think of quite a few things, such as biotechs and people bugged in their heads against their will, but what most comes to us is that we really will have even more struggle here in Australia than we currently have in terms of, for instance, job market. Our situation is already desperation: We kill each other for tutorships, basically. These are positions that are temporary, which will give us an income that equates, or is lower than, that provided by the dole. 12,000?

First of all, the roots of asylum seekers' acceptance are in the fact that they are being kicked out of their original Country, so that they never really intended to leave it, like, if it depended on them, they wouldn't. Well, that means that they actually liked or even loved their original last world countries. 

In this case, it can only be part of the logic involved that any last world Country would make them happy: As happy as they were in their original countries, from which they never intended to move.

Why is it that this onus ends up always on the First World Powers then? 

That will slowly change the First World Powers into last world ones. That sounds stupid. 

If anything, we should try to change the last world ones into first world ones, is it not?




Sunday, 8 November 2015

Cleaning and Joint Work

Since the beginning of what I call my martyrdom, in that end of 2001, I keep on wondering, and I was actually already, when I spoke to Trevor, wondering about that, about whether I am guilty of some violence/aggression/crime that I suffer.

With time, I got convinced that every victim who never found ethical services in the authorities for law and order, especially in a timely manner, if left on their own, starts wondering about that sort of thing: Why me, what have I done to get this, why God let this happen precisely to me, and etc.

The loneliness of being a victim, the complete abandonment in terms of respect, care, solidarity, and etc., the impossibility of doing something yourself to get rid of the atrocities you endure, the absurdity of depending on others to enjoy basic rights, and others really make of it all something way heavier than it would be otherwise.

Because I know the police of Australia, together with the authorities for law and order, are actively involved in all, to the wrongest side as possible, since at most that end of 2001, I engage in this sort of concern quite frequently: So, they have judged me and they then decided that I was worthless and my only perfect life and body and career could simply be wasted by marginals from last world, more specifically from Brazil. How can I prove to them that I am neither worthless nor less valuable than any of the marginals whose atrocities they are unconditionally supporting all these years?

I have already tried to expose the life of a few of the marginals online (Example), even because they make sure mine is exposed to maximum to every sort of person since at most that end of 2001, I have already tried to prove my value in Science and teaching by getting endorsements (Linkedin), compliments on specialized sites (Students and Language), and others (, I have already tried to write popular books, even about jokes (Jokes) and homosexuality (Terra Australis), I have already tried to compose and sing and prove that I also had some value in Arts in general (Music), I have already tried to do so many things since that end of 2001, it is unbelievable.

Decided for believing that the police, federal and civil, of Australia does not care about my scientific value, I then come up with this one: I am quite helpful even when there is no need. I really go the extra mile to please even my servants.

I have not only recorded where I am staying to show my three-month mess to my candidates to cleaning (the usual cleaner could not come and it was a miracle that I could finally afford their services, since I was actually cleaning myself, what costs me quite a lot in all senses, and this is all because of highly criminal inspections that happen quarterly where I am at the moment. I am sure this is against human rights, but what about all else I endure since that end of 2001? Something wrong with the entire human kind: It is precisely human rights violation that nobody cares about in the way that they should. It is precisely when you suffer human rights violations that you will never find a way out in the system, especially if it is all caused by the own authorities, as in my case), but I also have disconnected my equipment, and rearranged all, so that they could easily move around and do what they had to do, believe it or not.

Please remember that I then have to put it all back to place after they finish.

This is just to say I do consider us a team even when people are supposed to be servants.

My grandma and my mum, also the greatest victims of all of the violence of their relatives their entire lives, also always treated the servants with a lot of respect and consideration and were always quite helpful, always almost working with them, as if they were part of a team, a family.

In the case of my grandmother, she would quite frequently personally instruct the servant in the ways of cooking. I think she had the entire Ana Maria (this book had at least one thousand pages) in her head, with no lie. I watched her doing that a countless number of times. And she had a lot of patience, so that she was a really good teacher. So was my mother. I definitely think I inherited their teaching powers plus my father's.

Anyway, it is really repulsive how being kind with those in an inferior situation in life does not pay: The amount of people that have violated my rights all these years and who they are still shocks me. Not a trace of guilt. I don't get not even a witness' letter from any.

I am in real shock as to how much Anna Fillipecki, Lea Ricci Pinheiro, and Renato Gaui Filho committed no mistake when saying that the world splits into oppressed and oppressor and if you choose defending the rights of the oppressed whilst your natural class is that of the oppressors, you will end up just like them.

Even though this teaching is powerful, it still does not tell you that the own oppressed you favored so much when naturally belonging to the class of the oppressors will realistically never help you save yourself and will still frequently do precisely the opposite.


Anyway, the second movie shows the place after I stepped (on the same day as the movie) on the bathroom with my cheap thongs, which cost me 10 bucks and I got from the most popular shoe shop in Australia because of the crimes I endure (they steal millions from me in intellectual property since 2001, but I cannot ever have not even a regular job all these years, so absurd it all is) but stain wherever I step that is wet. Even so, you can tell, since this is a three month period with no cleaning properly said, like at most I would wipe a thing or another once in a while, that I am really really nice, like really neat, the dream daughter, especially for my mum, who was an adorer of perfect cleaning and perfectly cleaned places. You definitely should see what the others did. The first movie shows the place after I spent some time preparing it all for the cleaners.

Anyway, here it is, my house wonder:

Movie to show the mess:




Sunday, 1 November 2015

A Really Old Problem

In the end of 2001, I was in shock for, amongst others, being stalked as I went up my new street, Charnwood Road, which really pleased me, by a red Toyota. Inside of this vehicle there were two AU blokes of young age, both unknown to me. I assumed they were undergraduates from the university I was working at that year, VUT. They said stuff to me, but I find it hard to remember exactly what.

They went accompanying me (and frightening me quite a lot as they did that) up to the door of my building, which was on the very top of the street.

One side of the car had been painted with the word Ethic and the other side with the word Ethics. I immediately thought that it was as if a foreigner had said it to one side and as if a native had said it to the other side.

That image still haunted me recently because I am still suffering atrocities that derive from those initial criminal actions nowadays. For instance, I get at most 5% of my post where I currently am in Australia. Everything comes via post, including job opportunities. Post is everything to us, is it not?

Other things are way more valuable however and those ALSO have been stolen from me since back then.

Anyway, I tried to register a denouncement against those two and their car at the police station in Melbourne, VICPOL, that end of year. VICPOL refused putting that in their records, even though this time I was prepared and had pictures of the car, which was parked on one of the lowest corners of my street on the said date.

I ended up criminally, and very violently, forced to go back to Brazil in 2003, and I really never wanted to have any more contact with any South American that be not at most my mother and myself for the rest of my life as soon as the airplane took off in that 2000 or as soon as it started flying to Australia.

I went all the way down there and I still had no clues about the ownership of the vehicle or what it meant. I had questioned Judith Cook about it, already sensing that she was involved. I then told her that ethics and ethic was very heavy for people from research like me, that that impressed others negatively, that if she was playing or something that she used another word, so say Rian, because of Rian Aldridge, an ex-fellow from IBM. Almost next day, if not next day, the painting on the car changed from ethics and ethic to Rian, believe it or not. In this way, I was sure the lady had to do with it. Even so, I begged her to give me details about the car many times and she refused to do that. She still gave me a call in 2002 to basically laugh in my ears with her entire set of fellows. I had been told that she could be a bit mental, but the person who said that decided that perhaps I should see her in the end, so I went.

The car looked like the car in the picture below and had a plate that read NOI916.

Its red was way more impressive, however (lighter and brighter). 

I came back from Brazil, had asked questions to as many people as possible in both countries, and I still knew nothing about who did that.

I suffered way more crime in Brazil than I was suffering in Australia before going to Brazil, things having started with the theft of my Toshiba notebook inside of the bus terminal. A gang formed by a black carioca woman who worked at the Internet kiosk, the owner, and the black carioca cop whose station faced the kiosk, which was inside of the terminal and surrounded by cameras, stole it. 

I came back to Australia ASAP and that was in 2004. I had taken a leave of absence from RMIT, so that my job and scholarship were waiting for me. Shepherd did not accept Liu's work on the thesis (he had revised it with all care on earth and had some suggestions in terms of wording in a few places) and refused to evaluate it or pass me. He then imposed that he signed his name on my paper as if he were the main author, but he wanted to give me nothing in exchange, not even an Honors Title. He did not want to serve, check my thesis, or anything, and still refused to take Liu as a co-supervisor or consultant. He asked me to withdraw after I insisted in having Liu in our team and only letting him be the main author if he let me have one title in exchange for my extraordinary efforts under his supervision, what was happening since Asha dropped her project with me. 

He was already attacking me with civil crime together with Bill Blyth before I go to Brazil, so that I decided to simply do what he was saying. Back then, I was already enduring about six years of crimes of academics against me. Because of the car, I imagined that they were probably accusing me of something, that perhaps I was not the only one to have accusations against the other and offer even material proof at least sometimes to support my claims.

VICPOL would still not accept registering my denouncements about NOI916 in 2004, so that I moved to Sydney. In Sydney, their police finally accepted registering the denouncement and taking note of all. They also uploaded the picture of the car that I had. 

Different from Brazil, they told me that I had to be able to guess the name of the owner of the car for them to simply confirm. In Brazil, they would reveal all to me. I tried a few names, such as Neal, Abdulah (he said he had a car like that), Plant, and etc. Nothing worked.

The police station where I registered my denouncement, Ultimo station, was shut down.

That remained in my mind until recently because I was still getting crap from quite a few academics. For instance, I wrote to the HOD of Philosophy of CUNY to ask him to let me give some talks on my solutions there and he refused to give me a chance by saying that they did not have any programmed events. In Academia, we create space when the person is visiting, regardless of who they are, so that that is all abnormal, and one could easily say criminal. I was from Australia, had gone all the way, and etc.

I then thought and thought much harder recently and got to the conclusion that that car probably belonged to Richard, an owner of a private tuition business in QLD, a fellow from one of my philosophical disciplines at UQ. I forgot his surname, but, until recently, I had one of his business cards. I think it was something like Krista. 

He was a gypsy and we had conversed a few times. He seemed to be interested in me on a personal level. I was not interested in him on a personal level, but let myself converse with him to see if we could collaborate in something. I could be interested in teaching for his business, for instance.

Patricia Petersen once met me on her own in the postgraduate room in my free time, postgraduate computer room, and I then let her know that I had a boyfriend that I liked very much, Danny Gil. It was only me and her and it was our spare time when I said that. She told me she was a Sexologist and I had some spicy question for her that had to do with Danny and that is why I decided to tell her that.

I also tried to learn about her book from herself, but she could tell me absolutely nothing. She told me that it was available in the library or something. 

I meet academics and I am always an academic when I meet them, I suppose. That far, I saw her as an academic, since that is how she was introduced to me.

Well, someday we were together in a pub because of a conference somewhere, and I think it was the one in Newcastle, where I presented my solution to The Sorites. My solution was a bit disguised because of Priest's request to me. 

It was me, her, and a lot of other people from our Philosophy Department (UQ). Richard was close to me for some reason at the table. We were conversing about something that related to my solution or to Philosophy, whatever. Patricia then turned to us both and said, all of a sudden, as we stopped to pay attention to her, who had just turned her attention to us, that I had a boyfriend. I did not understand much, but also had nothing against it, since I really wanted nothing personal with Richard and I am faithful to my boyfriends. She then said nothing else, like nothing else before or after. I and Richard were left wondering for a while, but kept on going with whatever we were doing, which I think was eating lunch or dinner. 

Richard was going to record Hyde's presentation on the solution he supported in terms of the Sorites Paradox on the date I presented mine at Newcastle or the day before. I then asked him to record mine too. He said he thought that was unethical. I recently remembered that he had a red car like the one in the picture, that he showed it to me, and that he said something to me that involved the word ethics, so that it was probably his car on my road that day. 

In this case, what is meant is something I cannot guess, but it obviously has to do with whatever Richard thinks. Perhaps he did that so that I remembered him, what did not happen in time. Shockingly enough is the impact that this all might have had on my career since then: I actually put the picture online in order to try to get answers. I was very confused about what was ethical or not in that end of 2001, since I thought almost everyone was being unethical with me and I did not see them thinking that they were doing that. 

It is all a shame: So many years wondering and feeling a bit guilty for imagining that the First World had different rules as I see, for instance, happening with Translation and Interpreting, and it was Richard, the gypsy from Queensland, who put the car there. All he meant is that he could not help me, more than likely: He PREFERRED Hyde or something. He thought it was a fight or something. 

I remember telling him, because he was a native, that Hyde did not want to supervise me not even in the condition of consultant. Yet, he seemed to love The Sorites, had an entry on the Stanford Encyclopedia, and etc. 

It was soon after I told him that that they both came up with Hyde's presentation. I think mine was already scheduled when they did that. 

He was also the one to tell me that he was going to record Hyde's. I then thought it was a disloyalty with me to highest degree, since I was the one talking about the topic with him and etc. 

Here, with my buttons, he might even think that he was protecting my interests, like perhaps making sure everyone knew Hyde's choices, so that he would not steal my theory or something. 

I would not have a clue: Poor Marcia and Australian plus Brazilian mysteries of which she is a victim, about which she can always know very little, and not enough to save herself from their consequences in time. 

Richard, if you are alive and out there, please manifest yourself. If not, someday I will know all for sure. May God help me, so that it happens whilst I am still alive. 

Obs.: I have never been inside of Richard's car. I know his car in the same way I knew Gani Abdulah's car, from him pointing at it and saying it was his. We conversed very few times, perhaps five at most. I was actually with him when he apparently fell in love with the woman I was sharing house with whilst I presented at the conference. I was actually one of their greatest allies, like the go, go person. I really see other human  beings as fellows my entire life before this all started and I very unfortunately also saw everyone as equal despite my clear intellectual/moral superiority to quite a few since early. I also know I am extremely superior to almost everyone else in terms of wisdom, for people go after me for advice since I am five, people like my own mother, much older. I really can keep myself cold at all times and in any situation and definitely will if I am officially with somebody, which means I do go with them in the open, for instance, to places. I am the sort of person who if I decide for someone, then I so did and there is no point in betting on someone else until they disappoint me to a basic level, so say they have intimate contact with someone else. I definitely don't feel I can trust my men, so far, to the level I can be trusted. One of my biggest searches, as I told Trevor in that end of 2001, was this, like after my achievements and a people plus place of peace: I really wanted someone like I saw Rogerio de Oliveira being with me in our first two years of intimate relationship. He was always including me in all conversations and putting me before everyone else at all times, as it should be. I don't think there is any chance he betrayed me because we both seemed to really cry for missing the other on a daily basis at that stage. We even had transmission of thought, which is something I had with my mother and grandmother too. Time went by, he changed, did more drugs, chose the other side, betrayed, and we then had to split. I think it is waste of my resources even moving for a man who is not going to respect me to the levels I respect them. Unless I am sure I am respected to the heights that I expect, I sincerely do not even cross a block for him. Maybe in the situation of extreme violation of human rights that I endure since end of 2001 I am seen doing things that are very atypical, but it is just not me as me, it is a me', derived from the infinite amount of violence I am receiving from the environment and everyone else, especially authority for law and order, since back then. I do think I am priceless in all senses in a world of prostitutes, basically. I really give myself and I also think that just my intelligence, the information that I hold and can give, is worth the world. I would not be violated so completely and still be alive if they were not stealing my original ideas on an almost 24/7 basis, believe it or not. That is how creative and original I am. I am also incredibly useful and do from swapping light bulbs and fixing outlets to trying to play prostitute, basically, at home. I still like being the boss and won't withdraw from that position if necessary. I rarely commit a mistake of judgement and have infinite wisdom to give. Enough of advertising my personal services here. The whole point is that I really really don't even look to the side if I am in a public relationship with somebody and, for me, public means going out with the person, kissing, hugging, holding hands, showing intimacy somehow. They can get naked, rub themselves against me, offer me the world, and, if I am in what I think is a relationship and I believe there is any chance on earth it will work, I swear to God they will get nothing. If I do go with somebody else, however, I will tell instantaneously that I have done that and I will probably think it is over. It seems to me that who put that car there was Patricia Petersen and that is why Judith Cook knew all about it. I just have to say that Patricia seems to be attacking me since 2000, but I was not really sure about it, like she could also be thinking that she was helping, as I told Trevor in that 2001. If she is saying that I betrayed Danny with Richard, then I only have what to cry about because, first of all, I betrayed nobody and second it should all be at most about Academia, not my personal life, even though I myself do believe it is all connected and Priest could not possibly be married in the UK, as he told me he was, and have Patricia as his official partner in Australia inside of our m├ętier, Academia. In third place, I see nothing on earth that could justify violation of human rights of any sort, not even discrimination when serving people. I also saw Patricia with my very eyes cracking over Ashley, one of my postgraduate fellows whose girlfriend she knew. She did that in our postgraduate room, by the way. I don't know, but, before hearing someone who accuses me of breach of ethics, people should see if that person is really ethical and can do that. What else? To the record, I am so in love with Hamish since we had our pizza day at Unilodge that I really think of nobody else, not even thinking, believe it or not, and, whilst I believe that my situation may be guilty for whatever is happening, so say he is in a situation in which he has to pretend to be with somebody else or whatever, I really will have nobody else, believe it or not, for, for me, the possibility is enough and if I go for someone else, I really do. It all has to start with respect and respect for the feelings of others, for the wholeness of the other, and etc.