Tag Archive | mother

Gang Stalking – Grow up, Americans, and stop harassing your fellow citizens!

English: Barack Obama delivers a speech at the...

English: Barack Obama delivers a speech at the University of Southern California (Video of the speech) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Cute Little Girl in Pink Dances on  Beach duri...

Cute Little Girl in Pink Dances on Beach during the Kite Festival. (Photo credit: mikebaird)

The woman whom the police shot in Washington was a target. I know she is.  I listened very carefully to what everyone said about her.

They drove this woman so crazy all she wanted to do is die. That’s why she went through the gate. She wanted to end it all.

This woman’s next door neighbor said she was very quiet and kept to herself. Her neighbor said she never caused any problems.  She got fired from all her jobs. and recently had a baby. And she used to hear voices  telling her President Obama was talking to her. The perps talking to her, of course.  Why would an employer fire a woman who was a good worker?  He fired her because he was probably told to do it.  And here she was pregnant, hearing voices and without a job?  The bastards just drove her insane.  And her mother was definitely involved in her stalking.  She said her daughter was acting crazy.  How would she know?  She didn’t live with her daughter? The next door neighbor said she wasn’t crazy, Why would the mother say she was?  Because the mother was a no-good mother.  She was harassing her daughter.  I have no proof of any of this, but this woman was another victim of gang stalking. All the signs are there.  A good, decent woman driven to insanity by those freaks of nature who should all be in prison!

It’s happening more and more. Every week we read of someone just losing it.  And all the experts come out of the woodwork to say she was insane.  A bunch of idiots they are!  They don’t  know shit!

Now, a little girl lost her mother. A mother who loved her from all accounts I’ve read. She took really good care of her.  If she’d been crazy, she would’ve mistreated her daughter, but she didn’t.

Another day, another victim of gang stalking.

When the hell is this going to stop???  How many more people are going to get killed before something’s done?

Wake up, Americans!  Wake up to the damage you are doing to your fellow citizens, and stop the nonsense. Grow up!

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Gang Stalking – They will not beat me down.

"I Am Tired" - NARA - 558861

“I Am Tired” – NARA – 558861 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: A sign warning about pesticide exposure.

English: A sign warning about pesticide exposure. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’m able to get on my computer today.   I don’t know how long I’ll last.  So if I disappear, they’ve gotten into my computer again and messed it up.

Today, the weather in Vegas is gray, dark, rainy and miserable.  Just like I feel.

The hackers won’t leave my computer alone.  The anti-virus I got is practically useless.  No matter what anti-virus I get, they get into it and put malware in it.  I really don’t know why there is even  anti-virus, none of them  works.

Not only are the perps not leaving my computer alone, they’re making my life even more miserable than usual.  When I used to live in my last apartment, I got sprayed with brown pesticide all the time.  All my clothes had stains on them.  I had to throw my clothes away because they were so badly stained.  And then I wrote about the pesticide and it stopped for a while.  But they’re going after me with the pesticide again.  They spray it into my apartment all day and at night when I try to sleep.  Not only are they hitting me with electricity,  spaying me with pesticide, heating up my bedroom like a sauna, waking me every two hours, smelling up my apartment with some kind of gas and just generally making my life unliveable, they’re trying to screw with my money. They now have a file on my debit card.  I happened to see it as I watched the anti-virus try to clean up the garbage they put into my computer. Why do the creeps need a file on my debit card?  Only one reason, so they can cause havoc in my account. I don’t have enough to worry about, now I have to worry that they’re going to take my money out of my account.  I’m worried that  one day I’ll go the bank and won’t find any money in it.  And believe me, that’s a real possibility.  It the sort of thing they do to other targets.

I must tell you, I’m just so tired.  The bastards just never leave me alone.  It’s harass her, harass her, harass her.  Don’t give her a minute of peace and quiet.  Just keep dogging her until she can’t stand it and breaks down.

But as tired as I am, they will not win, because I won’t let them win.  If I have to cry, I’ll cry, but it’ll be in such a way that they can’t hear me cry.  I won’t give them the satisfaction of hearing me cry.  Or see me cry.  Never!  They’ll make fun of me if they hear me cry, and I won’t give them the satisfaction.  I’ll show no weakness.  I’ll keep holding my head high.  That’s the way my mother taught me to do it.  She always held her head high no matter how hard things got for her.

And some day, they’ll get what’s coming to them.  That’s also what my mother told me.

God, I miss my mother!!!

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Gang Stalking – Let the tears come.


Tylenol (Photo credit: raspberries1)


Breakfast (Photo credit: brixton)


cry (Photo credit: the|G|™)

This morning I woke up feeling feverish and chilly, and felt a lot of stomach pain. And totally exhausted.  I did not feel like getting out of bed, but I forced myself to get up and have breakfast.

After breakfast, I took a Tylenol and walked around trying to feel better.  But I didn’t.  I still felt awful, and decided there’s no way I’m going out today.  So I made my way back to bed.  It was really good to be under my cover.  The warmth made me feel a lot better.  I laid my head down, and the tears came.  I didn’t cry, the tears just came down.  And I let  them come.

I thought of my mother and about how much I miss her.  And I thought how many times did she cry silently, and  I wasn’t aware of  it.  I’m sure my mother cried a lot of silent tears, but I never saw them.

I know why the tears came.  I’ve forced myself to keep going no matter what.  To write my blog, and be.  No time for tears.

With all the stress I’ve been experiencing lately, I didn’t  let my guard down.  It’s go, go and do what has to get done.  There are people all over the world who have worse lives than I do.  At least I have a place to sleep, eat, keep warm, so I shouldn’t feel sorry for my self. I should be grateful for what I have.

But the constant harassment never lets up.  It’s electricity hitting me all the time, being followed every minute, cars honking, people constantly laughing at me with their smirky laughs, at night someone unlocking my door, hacking into my computer, my phone, filling my apartment with terrible smells, clothes disappearing from my closet, people aping everything I do, etc.  It gets very tiring.  I never get a minute to just relax and think.

To just sit and think is a luxury for us targets.  It is a luxury we’re not allowed.

Every minute, it’s make them miserable, drive them crazy, make them want to end their lives, do something that will make them commit a crime so they end up in jail, or in some mental hospital.

There is no time for crying, or we won’t survive.

But our bodies know us better than we know ourselves, and they come to our rescue.  They make us cry and let out all the nasty stuff building up inside of us.  If we don’t let out the tears, we would explode.

So I’m grateful for the tears.

Contact info: http://neverending1.WordPress.com

Gang Stalking – Regrets, I have more than a few…

New York Paintingc_LR


Death (Photo credit: tanakawho)

Live from Las Vegas (Frank Sinatra album)

Live from Las Vegas (Frank Sinatra album) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I was thinking about some of  the bad things that have occurred in my life.

Of course, my mother’s and father’s deaths really hit me hard.  My mother’s death especially, since she died after my father. After my mother died, I felt lost.  I identified so closely with her.   After she died, I had no connection to anyone and a darkness came over me.

And I remember the time I entered an elevator and a man pulled a gun on me.  He called me a bitch and told me to hand over my wallet.  Of course, I did what he said.  A year later, the postoffice returned my wallet to me.  The thief put the wallet into the postoffice box.

And then, there was the time I was crossing the street and a man ran me over with his car.  He tried to beat the man next to him to the light.  He  knocked me down.  I passed out and, when I awakened, I was on the street and I could feel the car tires  rolling over my legs.    I was afraid to move  because I thought something really bad happened to my legs.  But I finally got the courage to move my legs and they were okay.  To this day, my right leg still hurts.

All of the above things are terrible things to happen to someone,  but, nothing, nothing is as terrible as what’s happening to me now.  In two of the above, I was lucky.

But nothing, nothing is bad as the gang stalking, except for the loss of my parents.  If I ever thought in my wildest dream, I’ d have this happen to me, I’d definitely would have chosen a different route in my life.  I think about all the choices I made.  Why didn’t  I go right instead of left?  Why did I ever move to Las Vegas?  Why didn’t I just stay in New York?  Why didn’t I marry the man who asked me to marry him? I could have lived in Europe.  Why did I move where I did?  Why? Why? Why?   My life would be so different.

Since my life has led me to where I am, why?  Why am I here?  Am I here to learn something?  And if I’m to learn something, what it is that I’m supposed to learn?  Is the rest of my life going to be miserable as it’s been?  Am I never to have some joy in my life?  Am I going to be alone for the rest of my life?

I guess I took the road less traveled and I’m paying for it.  I remember seeing a video of Frank Sinatra singing  “regrets, he had a few.”  I wish I could say the same.

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Gang Stalking – Wanted: Justice.

Trayvon Martin Protest - Sanford

Trayvon Martin Protest – Sanford (Photo credit: werthmedia)

Trayvon Martin Protest - Sanford

Trayvon Martin Protest – Sanford (Photo credit: werthmedia)

Older refrigerator model, with freezer compartment

Older refrigerator model, with freezer compartment (Photo credit: Wikipedia)This refrigerator looks just like mine.

I’m sure almost everyone has heard about Trayvon Martin, the boy who was killed by a neighborhood watch volunteer.  I heard his  mother remark this morning that a lot of young, black boys get  killed, but the media ignores all the killings.  And then she goes on to state how the media is always writing about young boys killed  in Afghanistan and how awful it is,  but ignores the same thing that’s happening to black boys  in America.  I agree with this statement.  It’s the same thing with us targets, nothing is ever written about the harassment we have to deal with every day.  Why is that?  Why is the media not writing about all the young black boys killed? Or how many citizens the U.S. is targeting?  They’re probably afraid.  Journalists  today don’t have the same spunk of old-time journalists. They just basically regurgitate what someone has written.  They don’t spend a lot of time chasing down a story.

Do you feel hot?  I’ve told you that it’s done by a large hair dryer, and that’s true.  I forgot  something else they do to heat  your body.  There are granules they spray on you.  These granules look like dry laundry detergent.  They’re about the size of a dot.  If you get these granules on your body, you feel the heat.  Usually these granules stick  to a part of your body that has an electrical mark, or a sore.  When you feel the heat, just try to remove the granules.  Just feel your back,  your leg, or wherever you feel heat and remove the granule.  Immediately you will feel cool.  A lot of these granules hit  you during the night.  The granules get into your bed, so make sure you get up and remove the granules from it.  If you have a sore, cover the sore with a band-aid, or a big cotton bandage.  The band-aid and the cotton bandage prevent the granules from sticking  to your body.

My refrigerator stopped working, so I notified the office.  And guess what?  They brought another refrigerator into my apartment that’s already been tampered with.  There are  sensors in the temperature gauge, the back of the refrigerator is missing, the front removed, the back, and the electrical cord tampered with, too.  I’ve never seen a cord that looks like the one they put into the socket.  I’m sure another target was using the refrigerator.  I see a lot of people move into the complex and move out almost immediately.  Because this place is really awful.  The management spends all its time harassing targets, and recruiting gang stalkers.  I can tell when a target lives in a certain apartment. The front of their apartment always has cigarettes  butts in front of it, papers, the grass is extremely dry, their air conditioner is sunk in, and they never, ever come out.  Maybe at nighttime, I don’t know.  But these people all hide.  I’m think I’m the only who goes out in the daytime.  I once put a note in everyone’s door who I thought was a target.  I included my phone number and asked if they’re being harassed. Never got one response.  I know if all the targets got together we could work together to protect ourselves and give each other tips on what to do.  I tried, but got nothing. I think some of them don’t even know what’s going on.  They know they’re being harassed, but that’s it.  If they only knew it’s the government, they’d be very surprised.


Gang Stalking – PostaDay 2011 – Where do you find strength?

English: Toruń, St. Mary's church, epitaph of ...

Image via Wikipedia - Fortitudo (strength)

Well, what I just typed someone ( government hackers) erased, so I have to begin again.  I guess they didn’t like what I wrote.

Here, I go again.  I hope I’m able to finish what I started before they erase it again.

As I stated, I don’t get strength from God.  If there is a God, why is he allowing what’s happening to me to continue?  If God is all-good, why doesn’t he end what I’m going through?  And I don’t get strength from my family.  My family chose to believe what some government stranger  told them about me.  They didn’t even want to listen to what I had to say, not one of them.  And I always thought that family was the one constant in my life.  And it turned out not to be true. So I don’t get strength from my family.

So the only one I can get strength from is myself.  I’ve found that I’m a very strong person.  I always knew I had my mother’s strength, but it took gang stalking to bring it out.  It’s no longer dormant.  I have a lot more strength than I ever thought I did. And this strength I have will keep me going through the worse of times.

Countdown: 43 blogs to write.

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Gang Stalking – Off Topic – PostaDay 2011 – Starting a fire; and missing my mother.


Image via Wikipedia

christmas 2007

Image by paparutzi via Flickr

Česky: pečené vepřové, bramborová kaše English...

Image via Wikipedia

I thought of my mother all day today.  I remember how at Christmas she used to get up early, start cooking to get ready for everyone who was visiting us.  She’d start cooking the pernil, roast pork, which takes a long time to cook, about 6 hours, or more.  She did it Puerto Rican style.  Take the roast pork, cut slits into the pork, add garlic, salt, Sazon (Spanish seasoning), pepper and some other spices, put the spices into the slits and, when finished, put into oven. It’s absolutely delicious!  When the roast pork comes out of the oven, the skin is very crispy, and the meat is very tender inside. She’d also make rice with gandules (a Spanish pea), pasteles (sort of looks like tamales, but larger. Only made on holidays, takes too long to cook).  And my sisters would make potato salad, ham, mashed potatoes and some other things.  We never ate as well as during the holidays. Me, I was never invited to cook.  Everyone would laugh if I mentioned anything about helping to cook.

I got a reputation for being a bad cook after burning a hamburger in the oven.  This is what happened.  One day I was home by myself.  I got hungary and went to the refrigerator looking for something to eat.  The only thing I could find was beef.  I took out some beef and made a hamburger patty.  I put the hamburger patty on the oven grill, no pan, nothing.  I checked the hamburger a few times and the patty seemed to be cooking all right.  The third time I opened the oven, the oven was on fire (this was a gas oven).  I didn’t know what to do.  So I went out into the hallway and cried out that the oven was on fire.  A man, about three doors down, heard me screaming and came to my rescue.  He ran into the apartment, turned off the oven, and smothered the fire.  And then he went over to the window and opened it. Then he asked me, what was I doing?  I told him I was cooking a hamburger.  He told me that I couldn’t just put a hamburger on the grill. I had to have a pan to catch the grease.  After the man left, I went to the window to get some fresh air.  I looked down and saw about 30 people looking up into our apartment, all laughing. The word already had gotten out about what I’d done.  For about 3 or more years, I had to listen to people ask me if I had started any fires lately.  At first it annoyed me, but after a while, I laughed along with them for what I did.  So no one would trust me to cook anything.  If I volunteered  to cook,everyone would start to laugh.

But, anyway, I always think of my mother during the holidays.  I really miss her.  I hope she has a very Merry Christmas wherever she is. Love you, mom.

Countdown: 44 blogs to write.

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Gang Stalking – Off Topic – PostaDay 2011 – Who is your favorite parent?

I don’t have a favorite parent.  I loved them both.  I can’t say that my parents were perfect, because they were far from perfect.  They were just two human beings doing they best with what life dealt them.

I loved my father in a different way than I loved my mother.  My father was the one who went out to work, and brought home the bacon. If it  hadn’t been for him, my mother would have been out working.  I remember being a little girl and getting excited about my father coming home from work.  It made my day.

My mother stayed home, took care of the family and made sure the world was a safe place for all of us.  She cooked, cleaned, took us to school, and listened to our problems.  She made sure my father ate and stayed healthy.

So I can’t say I have a favorite parent.  They were my parents.  I accepted them as they were.  And best of all, they accepted me as I am.

Countdown: 123 blogs to write.

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Gang Stalking – Off Topic – PostaDay 2011 – Who is the most patient person you know.

The most patient person  I know, it’s certainly not me. I can’t think of too many people who  I think  fill that criteria.

The only one I can think of is my mother. My mother is no longer alive, but she was the most patient person I’ve ever known.

My mother was not a woman to lose her temper. In all the years, I knew her, I can think of very few times when she was not patient,  or angry.

I used to get angry when I was younger and saw someone be rude to her and keep her waiting. I used to think to myself why doesn’t she say something. But she never did. It used to annoy me to see someone keep my mother waiting for no reason. I wanted to shout at them and tell them to serve my mother, but I knew not to say  anything.  She was patient to a fault. And no matter what someone did, she was always polite and full of patience. I sometimes considered my mother a saint, and today more than ever.  And she always said “thank you” to someone who did not treat her right.

Now that my mother is gone, when I  don’t feel patient, I think of her and a calmness comes over  me.  I think about what she would do, and do it.  I realize she was right not to get upset.  Getting upset does  not  serve me well.  I  stay calm and do  not start screaming and yelling at someone for causing me  to be inconvenienced.  It only gives them power over me.  My mother knew that, but I didn’t.  Mothers are always right.  Love  and miss you, mom.

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Gang Stalking – PostaDay 2011 – Pick a topic from yesterday, and write about it.

Pick a topic from yesterday, and write about it.

If you chicken out, write about why you’re afraid to write about one topic from your list.

As I stated, I’m not afraid to write about anything, but there are certain subjects that make me very emotional.

One of those topics is writing about gang stalkers and the things they do to me. I don’t like to write about this subject because whatever I complain about becomes the thing to use against me.  If I complain, let’s  say, about being sprayed when I’m taking a walk, I can assure you, they will up the ante.  More gang stalkers will come out of the woodwork ready  to spray me. Or if I complain about my clothes being torn, more of my  clothes will get holes in them.  If I complain about clothes  stolen, more clothes get  stolen from my closet. If I complain about a color I’ve worn and they’re all wearing it, I’ll see even more of the color I complained about.  If I complain about food stolen out of my refrigerator,  I’ll find that my food is disappearing very quickly. 

The  gang stalkers will read my blog and learn what I get emotional about.  The gang stalkers will then begin mentioning my family, mother, loneliness, etc.  The women/men will put on an act  of being very much in  love to  make fun of me being alone.  They’ll mention something about family, or mother, and really dig it into me.

But I know how they work, so I’ll be ready for them.  I’ll have to be a real zombie for the next few days.  If I don’t show any emotion to the things they mention,, they’ll begin doing else to me.   But they’ll keep at it for a while,  just to annoy me.

To all the gang stalkers I say:  What goes around, comes around.  And gang stalking will not last forever.  It will eventually come out about what all of you are doing.  And I’m so looking forward to that day!  I’ll have my camera ready to take your pictures,  and I will put them on YouTube so all the targets can see what you look like.  You’re all a sorry mess.

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