Friday, 27 May 2016

If Someone Asks You about Me

What I truly believe has happened to me in life, actually probably since a few years before I leave Brazil, is that I have this really attractive male cousin called João Carlos Ricci Terra, who was the only one in the family, apart from me and Jayme, who really looked like a First World person, like perhaps a native white American, 100% American, or at most an European of white ancestry. That was outstanding beauty and exoticism for Brazil, especially Rio de Janeiro, where João Carlos was born, and to where I was dragged against my will when I was nine years old (I was born in Porto Alegre, RS, where the dominant phenotype is my phenotype in most of it, mostly Italians and Germans are my original people). 

João has magnificent blue eyes and is completely white, like of paper color, just like his mother. Jayme was also like that. Jayme is also blue eyed, but his eyes are less expressive than João's because João is also blonde. Jayme is also kinda blonde, but his blonde is not as expressive as João's, I reckon. They are both very tall men, as for Brazil, but really not tall enough, as for Australia. I was very tall in terms of women, as for Brazil, but my body was delicate and slim, different from the Italian, Brazilian or even the Australian dominant body type. Jayme got knocked out by Nelson and Léa at an early stage of his life. Well, also by his own mother and father, but just because of the pressure of Nelson and Léa, very unfortunately. Both Nelson and Léa were way less interesting and attractive and energetic and pleasant than Jayme, and therefore, given Brazilian and family culture, they really massacred over him. Perhaps based on what had happened to Jayme, my parents and all others decided to protect me a little from Nelson and Léa, but I finally got hit, despite my herculean efforts not to go through the same. As I spoke to that Trevor trying to protect myself forever, trying to finally get saved forever from Nelson, Léa, Bradley, and all associated marginals, I ended up getting precisely the opposite, only God knows why. Brazilian or family culture (like my original family's culture) include destroying people who could be greater than them if they are older, as said in several other blogs. People like me, Jayme or João Carlos, of extremely exotic type when compared with all other family members, much more likely to succeed in anything they do, starting with how attractive they look when compared with the others, would become targets of everyone else, especially if ever spending time in places like Rio, where they are mostly black and criminal, where they mostly live to literally attack, and violate white people, to injure them to maximum degree, and it is all gratuitous. 

Anyway, João had a lot of concern with mental illness, and so did I, mostly because we were always sure, all of us or many of us, that Jayme never had any problems in his life, rather the opposite, like he was one of us, and we find it hard to understand why he ends up in the way he does. I myself think I am sure of this why, as I told Trevor, but people like João could have difficulties in believing that it is all realistically done with all intention on earth by those who cannot accept that the other is so special in all senses, like Jayme was always wanted, always invited, absolutely always, like you will hear from Nelson, who destroyed him, that he was chased during the school breaks by the girls. This is something you never see happening, not even in Brazil, place of prostitutes, as they say: He was really really cute. There was something in his eyes, on his semblant, something really really heavenly. As I said, Diego Talavera was ALSO like that when he was born: His eyes had a magnificent color. I think they were ALSO blue. And he was full white, like us, the others I refer to. Diego goes through a process of criminal termination of all his enchantment (I described this on another blog post), and, basically, demoniac possession, for I have no other way to put it. It seems that João is the only one who really escaped all these atrocities that destroy anyone who is of exotic physical type in my family, even because the own João seems to have destroyed me, as unfortunately as it may seem. I really trusted that he was my best friend in the family because one, he also chose overseas, English speaking cultures, and First World people, two, he had my physical type, and three he was intelligent, for he would not succeed otherwise. I told Trevor that, what is very unfortunate, because, from all I infer, it was precisely João who was ruining my life in Australia since 2000, it all having started with the detective that he would have sent to find out information. That then made Rogério attack me since back then instead of being together with me somehow or at least not attacking. It is all very unfortunate. When I spoke to Trevor, I still had a lot of love for João, for, believe it or not, even having any joy because of a relative is a rare event in my life. João had given me some small joys or reasons to believe that he was more of a pleasant company than a harmful one. When I spoke to Trevor in that end of 2001, I remembered what I always remembered in terms of his person, which was his care, the care of being nice to me, a little girl abandoned to the old people and their needs, him giving me some reason to live, to have joy with my existence: He carried me over his shoulders on the street, and actually down the street. I was so little used to human contact and kindness that I worried all the time about his welfare: I actually thought that he could hurt himself, that perhaps I was too heavy or something, believe it or not. It really did not matter how long that lasted for or why he did that, but I perceived that as a really generous gesture of his, given what the others did, like if you consider what I did for Diego myself, what included carrying him infinitely many times like that, then he did nothing, but if you consider what I myself get from those damn relatives and Brazilians in general, that was a treasure of no dimension, so that this is the drama of the really neglected kids, those who suffer harassment since little: Unwanted attention at waste, and very little wanted attention. I had him in my heart and mind as a true hero, like compared with those monsters who had my surname, he was a god, basically. We tend to hang on to the least worst, as I keep on thinking: When the hell is deep enough, whatever drop of holy water that you get you spend the rest of life saying thank you, I reckon. Anyway, I actually only carried Diego on my shoulders for remembering how nice the feeling was when he did that for me. I never forget this particular day when I and Rogério were still a very respectable and loving couple and he came in my direction when I was carrying Diego like that, like we met a sort of half way between his home and mine. That was beautiful to see because Rogério also had exotic type, as for Rio de Janeiro, and so did his entire family, apart from the parents and sister (he had beautiful blue eyes, even though none of the eyes that I here mention had half of the beauty Danny's eyes had). It was him, blue eyed, white, tall, slim, and me, green eyed, white, tall, and slim, plus Diego, who was also blue eyed, and white. It was like a typical American or European family perhaps, and I am very much into photographic memory, like I picture things more easily than I can write or describe them orally, and I am also very much into aesthetics, like since little I have a passion for beautiful looks, beautiful things, etc. Rogério was not the same as us, however, because he was a bit ugly, like he had a twisted nose and bad hair, already a bit of a black person. No wonder he ended up joining the black people and attacking my basic rights to exist ALSO in Australia and already in 2000. 

Anyway, the point is that Agnella Ricci Terra had actually told me, as I tried to release myself from the obligation of taking care of my own mother, what I do since at most five years old, and get her to finally take responsibility for her sister, perhaps in exchange for the so much my mother had done for her and her son in life, also for her own mother in her place, since she was the eldest, that she was going to ask João to watch over me in Australia. As she said that, I did panic, for I know my relatives very well, and there is absolutely nothing that they have not destroyed in my life, this since I am very little, instead of helping, doing their share, etc., and I am sick of saying that even in blogs now. Even simple poetry presentation Agnella and Hermolga had been able to completely ruin together. I then said no, for her to not even attempt to do such a thing. What I now believe is that she kept her idea and went to the end instead. Since it was never to help, she first had contact with Rogério and he asked her to check on whether I had somebody in Australia in 2000 or not. João then sent a detective and took pictures of me with another man, Rian, pictures that said nothing, like we were just hugging and kissing in the sun, in a park, but pictures that could mean, to Rogério, that I had someone else. I have already explained in several places this story of mine with Rian, I reckon, Rian Aldridge. We just kissed and hugged, mostly because he wanted, like I was there to actually visit the Blue Mountains with him, and I actually did not have any expectation whatsoever in what regarded sex or intimacy, and I swear to God that I didn't. I was there as a genuine tourist, as for free time (we were both serving IBM). It is just that, when we met at the train station, it was something like unavoidable: He was there to have stuff with me for sure, and I myself was not prepared to say no or to play hard to catch, rather the contrary, I reckon. I was so excited with all, like I had passion for IBM, Olympic Games, and all that I was experiencing in Australia that far, including close contact with the English men, that I could not help myself. I had seen Mr. Fisk at Fisk Schools and I never forgot his manners and his kindness. I also had one of the best times of my life with that little group in terms of learning, and that lasted for as long as we had Emília as a teacher. Mr. Fisk's family built that course with their hands, basically. I then got a really good impression of the English. In compensation, I had had English classes with an American woman, and that was the one that made me end up at Fisk Schools, when, in principle, her classes should be enough to teach me English: Her classes were the end of the world and taught me nothing apart from confusion. She was a native American woman. I also had dealt with John Casti, who I took to be a native American man, and I actually hated him in terms of personal contact: I thought that he was a person of very little generosity, and understanding in terms of life. He had, in my opinion, abused by much my good will. That is actually the reason for me to be upset with Five Golden Rules and not accept his offer, of translating his Cambridge Quintet. I also got upset with Anna Fillipecki for this one (she is the one who got me the idea of translating FGR for him). I had already met Carrie, João's wife, and I hated her too, like I thought the woman was a person of, once more, very little discernment and generosity when it came to life. I couldn't believe the things they offered me in exchange for my precious friendship, support, and even services: Casti wanted me to marry him, basically, and perhaps work as his gardener. Carrie wanted me to be her nanny. She still stated that I ruined her fruits as I, with all patience on earth, tried to wash them in water and soap, as my father used to do, especially after I noticed something nasty over them, which she later on would let me know was wax, put on them so that they would look good when they weren't. I hated her. With this, I felt really happy when I listened to Priest and he had an English accent, when I met Barry Jones and he had an English accent, and when I met Shaun (sorry for the spelling, but he is also a violator, so damn it), and he had an English accent. Also Rian was English, I found out, just without the accent, what is a shame, as for back then, when I really loved their accent, their language, and all else about them, the English people, who I took to be the cleverest people on earth that far. Anyway, I was all happiness and joy when I met Rian there and it just came automatically, I cannot even explain. I only know that that is all I could do, like he was completely sure that that was what should happen, and my body did what he expected, which was kissing him in the way that he wanted. That was awesome, but also weird. Anyway, it was not supposed to be, that was not my intention, and we did nothing beyond that. The picture however traveled oceans, ended up in Rio, in the hands or imagination of Rogério, and that was when I got him to attack my life in Australia in worse ways, very unfortunately. 

Well, I then believe that it was actually João that was called by my own mother as I entered a crisis, and I entered a crisis mostly because of her call to me. I could not manage to move out of Bradley's apartment, perhaps because I was in fear that my mother would take my life from me, as it apparently happened, like she was once more obsessed with my company, thanks to a lot of atrocities in the own Brazil which included (now I know) criminal delay in visa provision. I knew Bradley was attacking me criminally and yet I was unable to get rid of him, as I told the VUT support people back then. This on top of betrayals and all else. What I believe, and please understand that if there is one thing in life that I give everyone else but nobody gives me is information, is that João then installed a camera in my Charnwood apartment, but Bradley took it out. With this, I lost my only opportunity of being known by João in terms of who I really was. João then started relying only on the word of others, as he told me he was doing when I called him in 2002: That he would only speak to Bradley, not to me. I then have been a victim of this sort of choice and his power over the entire human kind for now more than fourteen years I believe. It is all a shame: If all these forces were used in my favor... If any of these people ever proceeded like my true friends, relatives or partners, then I probably would have no problems in life, so: Oh, dear!

Anyway, this all is to say that if you are ever approached by a Brazilian and they ask if you  know me, helping me would then be saying that you know me with all certainty on earth (since the problem is that João does not think he knows me) and I need these things (of course, you would understand that João, like every carioca/person from Rio is a marginal, a psychopath, but there is no law and order, nobody for my basic rights for more than fourteen years, and that is why this is better than nothing): a permanent academic position in the USA (preferably Texas), Mathematics, Real Analysis, and having a really young man, from secondary school, hopefully going through his first sexual experience, as a boyfriend, so that I would have a chance to have a chance in all regards. He is a marginal, and still responsible for all, so that he will not be willing to give me justice. All we can hope for is this sort of thing. And perhaps have your ears covered with cotton as you speak to him because I was told that he may like playing weird games with your ears (like the witches, dwarfs from hell or whatever: It may be a joke, but it may also be true, is it not?). The important thing is saying that you do know me, regardless of how, and you know that that is what I need. Never say more than that and never expand either: Very few sentences, only one thing, so that he does it. I think that, in this way, it will work. Say that my heart and soul belong to Hamish, this Adelaidean-Australian man, for now quite a few years, so that it would be nice if he could organize things in a way that Hamish could go with me. This is all very important because things start, in the end of 2001, with me being sent at least four senile men as possible husbands or lovers or whatever, and it seems to me that I suffer atrocities all these years, so that, for instance, Priest is not told to have harassed (that would probably have been, as said before, Bradley's idea), but to have been corresponded, and the same with Crippa, Renato, and a few others. On top, so that they think that I was into old men. Men of old age go abusing me and using the academic job and achievements all these years to try to get me, basically. There is only God, as I keep on thinking. Even the cops sent old men to me (Adelaide) in a way to make me think (this time) that I would only be served by them (police!) if I did these old cops, their bosses, believe it or not. I still think/hope that they are all bugged in their heads and that is why they act like this. I still totally believe that the Australia I thought I knew and was passionate about in that end of 2001 is the actual Australia. 

I think that who really destroyed my perfect everything on earth was Bradley Paul Neal. I think I am sure that if he did not call because of his spy on my road in that end of 2001, Trevor would never appear, and it is only Trevor and what I spoke to him that made all my martyrdom possible. It is also only Bradley and his friends that determined my failure at RMIT and in Australia and my heinous return to Brazil in that 2003/4. I now understand that justice had happened in the Australian way in that end of 2001, but, as it is their way, they told  me nothing officially or face to face. Because of that, Bradley could destroy and nullify everything and still injure me for life, this even physically. It is all a horrible shame. I think that Cameron Plant was fired, as he should have been, from ANZ, IT. I believe that he then got the job with Smith & Klein because of João Carlos, who dropped his to give it to him (he worked for them), and we then went from justice to nonsense and support to crime. I think Bradley was told to leave me alone, and take a prostitute in my place, and that was Katia Moura. He was told to do with her what he and Cameron wanted to do with me. That was also fine. But Bradley then came back to me and it looked as if I wanted that, even though I was protesting and doing all that I could to get rid of him all the time, but still get protection against Brazil, my PhD title, etc. I think Priest was told to stop harassing me, and he then invented that he was helping me professionally instead, so that it was not harassment of sexual nature. He invented that I had no talent, and perhaps had bad English, so that what he was doing was taking care of me, similar to what Rubens Crippa or the own João or even Patricia or Eva Stenzdur or Florica or Sever or George or Cameron would be saying to justify their crimes. All was then withdrawn and taken to be what Priest had said because of James Harland, Notre Dame Journal, and RMIT plus Bradley. You know what I mean? I also think that both Patricia and Stenzdur, two of the prostitutes, were put out of the academic environment, but at least Patricia returned recently, being supported in all that happened by Kaye Marion, Irene Penesis, Julie Saunders, and Lally, since they were all prostitutes as well (Kaye told our entire department about oral sex with Pavarotti when he was married; I caught Irene being massaged on her back by the fellow who was teaching Calculus, but he was married, this in her office; Lally was told to have paid a visit to the backpackers where Thomas was staying and I believe I saw him with her herpes recently (lip), but she was the girlfriend of an Australian native man who was from Melbourne University; and Saunders was at least with Alan Lebel, who was pregnant together with his Australian native partner). I think that João got his story reinforced, like the story he was told, probably by Léa: That I was a schizoid or had been marked as such in Brazil. The thing is that Léa got me her friend, a hypnotherapist, who was also a psychiatrist, to converse with me, and even run a few hypnosis sessions. Her friend then had pity on me, liked me as a human being, and kinda let me know her intentions. He never did what she had asked him to do, and she asked him to do that because all she thinks in life is getting my father's money, this since she was little, and the only way she could put her hands on that money was if my mother died (criminal or natural death), and she succeeded in interdicting me using the Brazilian law, and what she asked was that he classified me as a schizoid. He never did that to me, and he had enough honor not to do that, but he said, in front of Rogério and her, just for fearing both in the same way that I did, that he had done that. It would be impossible that he had done that for several reasons: If I were classified as such by him, I would have to have seen him in the condition of psychiatrist, but he was a taxation officer who was doing hypnosis with me instead, not even therapy. In second place, who knows of a schizoid who has been formally told to be that, and is allowed to go around without medication, and frequent attendance to a psychiatrist's office? That would be calling her friend insane. It is obviously not possible. As another point, even if I had been some day formally classified as that, people are seeing me, and they then know that I cannot be a schizoid, for no schizoid can take a tram, and go to work every day without medication, so that I couldn't possibly be one of them, like everyone knows that they would not be able to be at work not even three days in a row at the same hour on their own without medication. I know this conflicts with me saying that I thought that Sever was a schizo and Florica a bipolar, but what I meant is that Sever had higher degrees of schizophrenia than most of us, since the psychiatrists say that we all have all mental illnesses by default, and it is all a matter of degrees, so that I never meant that Sever had like full on schizophrenia. That would imply, once more, that he would not be able to ever work regular hours if he were one of those. Of course, I don't actually know if he does or does not take medication, but I assume that he doesn't, even because the symptoms would not be present if he did. He needed medication, as for my evaluation, and that was mostly to stop intellectual/brain damage, as I explained to Trevor, but also to stop the possibility that he would keep on calling us, the members of his group, names, and also so that he would stop expressing paranoia toward us, like just to mention a few things. What is fearful in mental illness is not the damage to us, but to themselves, quite sincerely. The only mental illness that should scare people to death does not seem to affect them at all: Psychopathy. Psychopaths do not show any signs of being such, I am afraid. They are people who look quite normal, like João Carlos, Rogério, Cameron, Trevor, Cook, and Bradley. Fear those! And fear those with your life, with all your being: See my case. All other mental illnesses, I am afraid, harm only the victim of the illness, nobody else. As explained to Trevor back then, it is not that I thought that Sever could hit me, but he abused me verbally, abused others, was violent in general, and clearly had a non-scientific and non-mathematical attitude, this to the point of stopping speaking to me after I changed supervisors (stopped having him as a supervisor or as the main supervisor). And he actually got to the point of threatening me through his friends/colleagues. He was and is a psychopath, and he also connects to terrorists. This is not a joke, and I was so scared of them (all) that I went to see the support services people on the hope of organizing a strategy. See what happened to me and to at least thousands of people, including top researchers/academics, and this is only because we simply tried to do the right thing for Science, for Mathematics, and for ourselves. Have mercy! I now believe that I only got the next-door neighbor, who I believe caused the Trevor Effect, because Sever did not go only after Tony Milone: He went after Judith Cook as well. I believe that the same people always have the same effect, so that Cook was probably helping me that far, but then got scared enough and decided to basically attack with him. Because he did that, we got the lady who said she was Italian, the lady who oppressed me through Shirley, who got me to speak to her against my will, and who passed my address to the marginals who ultimately caused all the atrocities I now endure for more than fourteen years in First World democracy. Please remember that I ALSO think that Sever got Gani, for instance, to threaten me at work, and that he also got both Eva Stenzdur and Florica Cirstea to destroy my environment in the 7th floor room, where I was so happy that far, to which I went after getting a new supervisor, who I was also very happy with that far. Sever had basically warned me: That I could have no supervisor that were not him. Every time I approached the topic with him, he seemed to become a changed person, quite sincerely. Yet, when he got me as a student, he said that he was offering himself for not being able to think of anyone else that could be my supervisor at that time, so that it was definitely as if I could get another later on if I wanted. Tony Sofo did ask me if it could be just me and him, without Sever. I unfortunately did not realize what that was in time, I reckon, since I answered in the Brazilian way (like not choosing sides, in fear), and I then said that I did not have anything against Sever still being my supervisor and Tony being perhaps in the middle, like communicating with Sever directly himself, so that he would be a second supervisor or a co-supervisor. Sever did not want to drop, and that must then have caused the explosion that determines the end of my life at VUT, I now reckon, and perhaps the end of my life in general. I put several possible stories to Trevor, each one depending on who had sent him. I told him that if somebody had sent him to kill me, since I had so much threat in those regards in my head, soul, and heart that far (Hyde, Sever, Bradley, etc.), that he did the story that he actually did. He himself however told me that who sent him was Cook, so that she wanted to kill me too, I infer. 

Anyway, please do that if any person who could be informing Brazilians about me and what I want approaches you, and that should help somehow. Only the banner in a live show with real time transmission can save me and guarantee justice, this for long, but, in second place, comes this sort of help, OK?

We must do whatever we can to protect each other's rights. Observe what the government, and others do in general, and learn our chances, of the good people: Really really help with whatever you can whilst there is still time. 




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