Saturday, 27 August 2016

Asha Baliga

I unfortunately just found out what REALLY happened to me at RMIT in that 2002. I know it does sound insane, like why would I be worried about that at this stage, first of all, but the thing is that I never succeeded in getting my permanent academic position despite having been offered one in Brazil by 1999 and having been offered another in Australia in 2001. The reasons behind this all are unbelievable, such as worst world atrocities caused and ran by Brazilian people for more than fourteen years with me living in Australia in a permanent manner since 2000, never sending Brazilians any news whatsoever about me, etc. Not even my mother knew my physical address in Australia, as for the information I myself gave people. She was the only one I would trust almost completely in Brazil before I left. I normally am so discreet in all I do, imagine when I am being careful, which was the case with Brazilian people since at most 2000, like they were in the notebook called Super Dangerous. All that matters to me is information, as I told Trevor Skinner in that end of 2001, so that I realistically hide is information from people when I classify them as dangerous, imagine Super Dangerous.... . 

I gave them no info, but there was a Trevor who unfortunately was at least: Judith Cook from VUT, Equity; Cameron Plant, who had just said he loved me, and God knows who else, but it looks like a hell lot of people. I myself however was made believe that he was exclusively the government of Australia, authority for law and order, like a representative. Who made me believe that was Judith Cook and himself. 

Oh, well, back to what happened there: Somebody, apparently Prof. Dr. Barry Jones, found this SERC thing for me: A place supposed to be completely safe, especially in terms of IT, and that was a main problem I had at VUT. 

Apparently somebody ALSO got my Danny (as for back then, someone I thought could be a good partner), and that was apparently my mates there, Kate Morioka and Nikola Kerkezenov, like my ex-mates from QLD, 2000.

Prof. Dr. Barry Jones still retired early apparently to ALSO give me his chair at UQ in that 2002, so that I had permanent academic position and man waiting for me in QLD that year, all coming from heavens indeed, given what I was going through, like due compensation and relief, also justice.

Oh, well, I had accepted taking a new project at RMIT because of crimes suffered, some of them already atrocities, in Academia, this since at most UFRJ (one year and a half of postgraduate studies at UFRJ, three years and a half in total that far). That would have been a weird agreement pack I proposed to Equity VUT/Australian government through Trevor Skinner.

I told Trevor where to get the paper for this project, what the project would be, and still told him with whom to get the supervisory lines that Horadam would use to help me conclude the PhD requirements with success. 

I did not know that who was going to have the agreement package project was Horadam. It was just supposed to be RMIT, Mathematics. It was her, however, who had it. I had been advised by Elaine Martin, postgraduate coordinator, to browse for a supervisor in the next university and therefore to speak to each possible supervisor before deciding for one of them. 

Basically, I am so non-racist that it took me 14 ys+ of martyrdom to notice what Asha had done to me. Judith Cook said, right in the beginning, like in comparison to how long it is now, that it had been the EOC woman, the Indian, and therefore two black women now. I later on would still find out, just recently again, that the student union leader for VUT was involved with my postal theft, another black person. Bill Blyth is who basically sealed my destiny in what regarded Small Worlds, the project I had under Asha, which was about human networks and disease spread. He replaced the HOD exactly when I went for him because of Asha's actions: She dropped the project when I already had meaningful results, paper, and thesis. Another black person. 

To make it all worse, Carla appeared at a certain stage over the Internet in the period and claimed full responsibility for all I was enduring since 2000 in Australia. Another black person. 

We are basically facing a surge of black people then. This is racism of the worst type as possible: Blacks against whites. Let's not forget that the reason why the USA did not restore my human rights, and their FBI even came to Australia in 2008 for that purpose (episodes with the NSW police, trial of skipping the federal government), was Obama, another black person. 

Well, basically, Asha made me not have a working space at SERC by assigning a seat that was not proper for academic work to me in that 2002. Other people had proper desks: space to work, adequate seats, etc. I got a seat of the type sweat factory in data entry instead. There was absolutely no desk space to go with and everyone around me who worked with Science seemed to be unable to advance every day I was there for. They all would always say the same thing and they would also clearly look idle during the entire shift. The sabotage then started with the workplace. Basically, the only guy who could progress in that situation of sitting in front of an old computer, with tower and all, on a seat that was of the industrial type, and therefore did not support our backs or anything, and in front of a row of computers, one close to the other, was the IT guy, Paul. I did notice that there were plenty of academic tables around, so that I did beg Asha to take one of those. Horadam actually got a very comfortable desk and room in front of the seat Asha assigned to me. There was a small room to the back of where I was that seemed to be full of reasonably comfortable academic tables as well, so that I did ask her to move to there. Asha said that I could not go anywhere else, as if forbidding me. She said that Horadam told her that those tables, as the back, were kinda reserved or something. Later on, we would get some nordic students, all temporary, sitting there. That was obviously where I was supposed to sit, since the whole thing could only have been about me, to help me be protected and have exactly what I asked Trevor to have, what included proximity to the people I had judged most similar to me in Australia, and those were the nordic people, just because, first of all, the own native Australians kept on asking me if I was from Norway and things like that, like when we first conversed, but I also had contact with at least a couple of girls (Osa and perhaps two others, whose names I now forgot) who were from the nordic countries and we did seem to have some similarity. Asha practically forbid me from going anywhere else, so that I would be stuck with those seats in the middle and the sweat factory scheme, what would obviously lead to me asking to stay at the main building, where the other people from Mathematics were. I had also said that I seemed to get along in a fantastic manner with postdocs, so that they did put the postdocs around me there, at SERC. Everything would have been fantastic were it not, first of all, that imposition regarding the seats. 

Several other things were done that destroyed what should be my paradise at work. One of them, the most critical in my humblest evaluation, is that, after I had everything ready to present, paper, meaningful results, and all, and everyone else was presenting their research to the fellows at SERC, I asked Asha to present there and she again practically forbid me. Presenting my research results there was of fundamental importance to secure my niche and the continuation or good finalization of the group work, with me then finally getting my so dreamed title, and, if they finally helped at least with information, the job at UQ, Dr. Jones' vacancy. 

I now see that Horadam probably never said such a thing to Asha and Asha acted at all times with the intentions of realistically ruining my life, career, and chances. It is all very unfortunate, but it is precisely because I am not a racist that I, first of all, did not reject Horadam's imposition in that 2002, which was having Asha in the middle, between me and her. It was Horadam that presented the paper to me and offered the PhD. When I accepted, and once more that was exactly what I had asked Trevor, that paper and the lines and all else, so that nothing of that must have come from Horadam, she then said that I had to accept Asha as a supervisor instead of her. She let it clear that I had no choice and it was either taking or not, basically. 

I said to Trevor that I believed, at that stage, that it would be possible that I would only graduate if my supervisor were a woman, since in Brazil things seemed to be a bit like that. I also mentioned however that Australian native women seemed to frequently be lesbians like Patricia Petersen or bisexual or whatever, so that I feared ending up suffering the things I had suffered with Florica and Patricia again, for instance, and I then wanted to beg him, always assuming he was the government of Australia, to find a way to put another one, who were not a lesbian, in the middle, between me and the lesbian, so that she would not feel attracted to me, would not want stuff. Given that she imposes Asha, the assumption should be that she was a lesbian. She did wear pants almost all the time or all the time, but she had long hair, like Prof. Brown from UQ, had curves, and said she was married to a man. Asha then put me in front of her face and room at SERC, what was even odder: If the whole purpose of her being there was to make sure the supposed lesbian would not feel hurt from me rejecting her or something, why did she do that? They seem to have done exactly what I said back then, so that Asha was always attacking me, no doubts about it, I now see. I don't think that Horadam, assuming she is bisexual, like Florica, Patricia, Bradley, Rogerio, Reginaldo da Silva, Alexandre Magno, and others would end up saying on a really good day that they decided to tell the truth that they were, would impose Asha to me but like to keep on starring at me at SERC, so that Asha obviously lied and, once more, sabotaged absolutely everything with all atrocity on earth since the start. It is all very unfortunate. She would perhaps have been chosen by the Indian woman from EOC, which I think was my suggestion to Trevor, and that is when Judith Cook would have told me the truth. The Indian woman did get removed from EOC after I told them what Cook had told me, so that they must have blamed her too. 

(will continue soon. Feeling a bit tired now)

Saturday, 13 August 2016

Eating Paper: Can You Cope?

Upon feeling hunger, they say the human being will eat is anything, like it is just a matter of time. Some people survived tragedies by drinking their own pee and eating their own poo. Several cases exist in which the fellow who refused to do it died. Australia had a woman eating flower on TV recently, like the decoration or something, but flowers are now in salads for long, so that that is not a biggie anymore. We also know of at least one famous airplane crash where the survivors were those who did not refuse to feed from the corpse of the others. In the slums, in Brazil, it is not missing kids who grew up eating rats, like that sort of animal is not missing around there, and at least they get to eat meat or something. The scoff of the oppressors over everyone else is so huge, however, that Rede Globo (the same one that seems to sponsor all attacks I suffer in Australia since at most 2005, since, first of all, they refuse to publish about them) suggested that the poor could use nails to make soups that contained iron, so that their kids would not be short of it.

What would we say about the people who have a choice and decide for eating things such as paper in our world and time?

Marilda Ziglia, a cousin of mine from Porto Alegre, where I was born, daughter of Aunt Ilda, who was the aunt I most liked before coming to Australia, is ten+ years my senior, fellow of Lea Ricci Pinheiro and Obama, generation-wise. Once I was staying at her mother's place with her, like me and her on our own. That was when she showed me how to eat toilet paper, like believe it or not. 

Marilda was really creepy her entire life: At a certain stage she had a skeleton that used to put a hand out to get coins when we put the coins in front of it. 

That was still an activity, which, according to her, she used to do with Cristina, her best mate, like after I refused to join her in the banquet, despite being so much younger, she came up with that: Cristina does it or something. That they used to spend quite a few minutes doing that. 

Oh, well, I think that it was Marilda's plague then. I recently kept on thinking of her and how easy it would be for her to save me from all the atrocities I endure, like she could send her son to TV with the banner or something. I then recalled how creepy she was, and I recalled this story with the toilet paper in particular. Her mum gave her enough food and she was even a bit overweight, so that it was a shocking thing. 

Some men eat the poo of women and call that sex. I have seen them even on TV doing that, like live. If they do not get locked in for that one, I think she is OK to be amongst us, is it not? I am thinking, like, if we consider just this one. 

Oh, well, but she is not so OK since I started suffering these atrocities: She is not saving me and she can do that. 

The point of this post was however that I recently got Coles, one in two supermarkets that we have in Australia, like, quite sincerely, they may say whatever, but there are only two, Coles and Woolworths, swapping some item from my online order, as it is unfortunately, very unfortunately, their habit, like as if I don't know what I want. I did notice that when they swap they usually put a more expensive item, such as this one. Problem is what I got this time: The thing looked like a cake, first of all, but it was supposed to be bread. The packaging makes you think it is a cake. Then there is the smell: It also smells like cake. It would be OK if I had ordered cake and if I liked cake, but I actually almost hate cake, as for daily life, and I ordered bread, sandwich, hardcore bread: Pure natural blessing. I ordered the great black king, Rye, and another one, also black, perhaps wholemeal, and they replaced my blessing with gluten-free WHITE bread that looks and smells like cake. As if it did not suffice, after I eat the thing, and the taste is not so heinous if you toast it, it did give me the sensation of having paper inside of my mouth and stomach. What was not my surprise: I looked at the Helga's package and it did say CELLULOSE. Gosh! I now pay to be poisoned. 

I don't know, but in the past we used to think that paper and chlorophyll are things we cannot digest. If we cannot digest, we will be wasting our organic resources, but we may also be poisoning our system, like I don't know, perhaps it remains inside or causes us digestive trouble. I had to lie down and remain like that for the effects to pass when I had six slices. The mouth and the stomach feel pretty bad and it seems to be fermenting inside of us. I suppose Marilda is there, not even one health problem that I know of. Notwithstanding, her son was born without the lid of the head or something like that.  I think that one died because of that. The doctor, back then, blamed the dogs for all. Well, the ugly beauty is called Hydroxypropyl Methyl Cellulose, and it receives the number 464 in the chemical list. I used Google and quickly found Web, which says that it is an additive with no known adverse effects. My mouth is still dry and my stomach is still revolted. It seems to take about four hours to digest. Only this is already trouble, I reckon. People who eat gluten-free food are after healthier eating and this does not sound any healthier to me. Methyl is something I have already seen associated with alcohol, I reckon. Hydroxy whatever sounds like an acid. Dictionary says it is used to produce tears and to disintegrate stuff, on top of being used as a thickener and a binder. I may be wrong, but you are probably going to find some connection between this and Potassium Bromate, which was forbidden in Brazil. In the period of my martyrdom I found Maltitol and Lactitol, for instance, being used in Australian food items. I don't know, but people might want to kill Australians because they destroyed me, because they are destroying me or because they are responsible for all these disgraces all over the world all these years. Any chance? 

When I was in Marrickville, Sydney, NSW, they had just had the nuclear incident in Footscray and the Asian supermarket, which was the biggest in the place, was selling bananas produced in Footscray for a really cheap price. I almost consumed those. Even though they had those huge nuclear incidents in Japan, Australia seems not to acknowledge that and sells their fish in our supermarket. In Brazil, that would all be forbidden. There should be a limit for you not to care about what you do against your own people, your own Country, but, all these years suffering atrocities nobody can imagine I could suffer here, in First World, and the conclusion is always the same: They really don't care.