Hi blog friends!

Hope this post finds you well. Let me know how you’re doing via email, text or leave a Facebook comment if you like. If it helps – which Judy would you rather take advice from? Judy Jetson, Judge Judy or Dame Judi Dench? For me, it would depend on the issue at hand.

Thank you to those who’ve reached out and engaged so far. It really does mean a lot to be able to develop friendships, get to know you and/or catch up buttercup.

Despite a tiny bit of upheaval due to the mercury retrograde happening now, there’s really no new news to report this week. Things are relatively stable and steady here. Paul and I have learned as we mature in our lives that, along with feeling comfortable, steadiness and stability in body, home and life are the best things that anyone could ever ask for.

Outdoor temperatures have cooled and beautiful inspiring golden sunrises have been gracing us with their presence almost every morning. We have also been continuing to enjoy our days and our time as best we can. I spend most of my time taking it easy and doing something creative or caring for us or our home when I feel up to it, and Paul spends most of his time contributing to online forums, completing online surveys and curating the shows that play on our TV. He also does a nightly radio show over on Mushroom FM. Tune in if you enjoy top 40 hits from the 70’s thru today – 11pm PT.

Oh! Some positive new things that have happened – Paul found more bundled subscription memberships to connect us to. Sam’s Club and Walmart+, Uber Eats and Amazon Prime and Lyft with DoorDash. If those services are important to you, you might want to check out those bundled memberships as well.

I also received an email from Amazon letting me know that the Bodum french press 34 ox coffee maker no longer meets current consumer product safety standards, and I have been advised to stop using it.

I was also notified that after 13 years of working and almost $1,200 earned, I have finally received my Pro Bronze seller badge over at Zazzle dot com. It doesn’t entitle me to the guaranteed monthly payouts that I’d really like to be receiving, but it does signify a job well done. Thank you so much to those who have supported my Zazzle creations along the way. It’s been my pleasure to make the mugs you’re sipping from, the notepads that sit on your desks and make you and the children in your classrooms happy, the Post-it notes that are stuck to your bathroom mirrors, and the greeting cards that have made your birthdays and holidays special. Cheers to many more! BTW, Cute Snail and I have some new fall and winter coloring postcard packs that you might like to check out. They are pay what you want with suggested prices included. Links to 100% FREE fall coloring postcards can be found on our blog. Links to FREE winter coloring postcards (including Christmas, New Year’s and Valentine’s day) COMING SOON!. Single coloring pages and coloring books are also still available for download as well. And – shares of your color ups, gifting or decorating stories are always welcomed on one of the Cute Snail Community Gallery walls.

That’s it! If my brain and body feel up to writing, I’ll see you again next week. If not, I’ll see you the next time we do. May we all wear our days and our time with ease. 👍

❤️ Juliet

IMAGE ID: A collage of pictures I took when Paul and I went out for a stroll yesterday – sunshine in a blue sky, and a cool looking leaf on the sidewalk.

————-

About Me | Email | Download (And Shop Cute Snail) – Scroll down to the bottom of this page if you’d like to subscribe to this blog.

A liberdade dela é o nosso espetáculo. Há cento e cinquenta anos que aplaudimos o assassinato de uma mulher cigana e lhe chamamos tragédia.

§

Na sexta-feira, 30 de outubro, fui ver Carmen, de Georges Bizet, ao Centro Cultural de Belém, com uma pergunta que trazia de casa e que a récita só agravou: Carmen é kuir? Não por ser uma mulher dona do seu desejo, que essa é a resposta fácil. Se o for, é por outra razão, e para a encontrar é preciso perguntar menos quem é Carmen e mais o que fizeram dela.

§

Paris, 1875

Carmen estreou na Opéra-Comique, em Paris, a 3 de março de 1875, com música de Georges Bizet e libreto de Henri Meilhac e Ludovic Halévy, inspirado pelo romance homónimo da ópera de Prosper Merimée (1890), publicado pela primeira vez em 1845 no periódico Revue des Deux Mondes. A data importa. Quatro anos antes, na primavera de 1871, os operários de Paris tinham tomado a cidade e governado-a durante dois meses, numa experiência de autogoverno popular que ficou conhecida como a [Commune de Paris ](https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/CommunedeParis)e que Marx (1871) analisou em Der Bürgerkrieg in Frankreich (A Guerra Civil em França), publicado em 1871. O governo francês, refugiado em Versalhes e chefiado por Adolphe Thiers, mandou o exército reconquistar a capital. Na última semana de maio, a Semana Sangrenta, milhares de communards foram fuzilados nas ruas e muitos outros presos ou deportados. Depois do massacre veio a ordem: entre 1873 e 1877, a França foi governada por uma coligação conservadora e católica que se chamava a si própria Ordre Moral e que prometia restaurar a religião, a família e a autoridade. Bizet, republicano, começou por desconfiar da Commune de Paris, mas a repressão horrorizou-o. As circulaires (ordens) de Thiers eram, nas palavras do próprio Bizet, “de véritables monstruosités”, como o refere J. Bétine (2021). Não terá sido por acaso que, nesse clima, escolheu pôr em cena um desertor feito contrabandista e uma operária cigarreira cigana, a gente que a boa sociedade burguesa queria fora de vista. A sala era o pior lugar possível para isso. A Opéra-Comique era um teatro de famílias burguesas e, frequentemente, local de encontro para jovens casais, e uma mulher que recusa o casamento era ali uma provocação à ordem doméstica. A crítica recebeu a estreia da obra com frieza e escândalo. Bizet morreu três meses depois, sem saber que tinha escrito uma das óperas mais representadas do mundo.

O enredo pode resumir-se em poucas palavras: em Sevilha, Don José, um cabo do exército, apaixona-se pela cigana Carmen, operária numa fábrica de charutos. Por ela sacrifica a carreira e o noivado com Micaëla e torna-se contrabandista. Quando Carmen o deixa pelo toureiro Escamillo, mata-a à porta da praça de touros. Repare-se em quem é o sujeito das últimas frases é D. José, não Carmen. E a escolha não é inocente. Há aqui um paradoxo que importa sublinhar: a ópera chama-se Carmen, mas a história é de Don José. É pelos olhos dele, o homem que a vai matar, que a conhecemos à saída da fábrica de tabaco, e é a ruína dele que nos ensinam a lamentar. Como nota J. Bétine (2021), Carmen fica reduzida a objeto da sua própria história, e o público aprende com José a irritar-se com uma liberdade que não compreende. José não ama Carmen. Ama a ideia que faz dela, uma Carmen que não mude e caiba num casal estável. E, ºorque não encontra essa Carmen idealizada, tira a vida à Carmen real. Bétine (2021) resume o programa de D. José numa fórmula pertinente: “La liberté mais dans une boîte”.

Carmen é cigana, operária e senhora do seu desejo. Ainda assim, a ópera mais aplaudida do mundo precisa que ela morra.

No texto com que o Centro Cultural de Belém apresentou esta Carmen (ver imagens abaixo), lê-se que “[a] história da cigana que não hesita em morrer em nome da liberdade e do amor permanece um dos mais impressionantes e duradouros mitos contemporâneos sobre a misteriosa natureza da Mulher” (negrito meu) — Mulher, com maiúscula. Umas linhas abaixo, lê-se que “subsiste o elemento essencial: Carmen, a anti-heroína fatal, mantém-se como o centro inflexível de todas as versões”. A encenação, transportada para uma Espanha franquista (ainda que o franquismo tenha ficado armariado), cumpriu o programa à letra até à navalha do quarto ato, num mundo arrumado entre homens que desejam e mulheres que são desejadas. Saí do Grande Auditório com a Habanera na cabeça e com uma pergunta que não me larga: porque é que, mais de cento e cinquenta anos depois da estreia, ainda chamamos mistério àquilo que já tem nome? E a resposta começa nessa frase, que essencializa a categoria Mulher duas vezes: na maiúscula e na “natureza”.

A Mulher com maiúscula

Vale a pena demorar na maiúscula. Escrever Mulher assim, no singular e com letra grande, é afirmar que por baixo de todas as mulheres concretas existe uma essência comum, anterior à história, e que essa essência é um enigma. Simone de Beauvoir desmontou esta operação em 1949. No tomo 2 de Le Deuxième Sexe, Beauvoir (2014) mostrou que o mistério feminino é um dos mitos mais confortáveis que os homens inventaram: dispensa-os de compreender, transforma a incompreensão em fascínio e faz da mulher o Outro: “On ne naît pas femme : on le devient”. Judith Butler (2023) foi mais longe e perguntou se a própria categoria mulher não é produzida pelas normas que dizem apenas descrevê-la. Federici (2017) dá a este argumento uma data e um lugar. A natureza feminina que hoje parece eterna foi fabricada à força, entre fogueiras, leis contra vagabundos e a invenção da dona de casa. Aquilo a que o programa do CCB chama natureza tem história, e aquilo a que chama mistério é o que essa história fez às mulheres que não couberam no molde.

Há ainda uma camada que a maiúscula esconde. Carmen não é apenas a Mulher: é a Cigana, com a mesma maiúscula. O texto essencializa duas vezes, primeiro o sexo, depois a raça, e cola uma à outra até a liberdade dela parecer um traço étnico, coisa de sangue mais do que de escolha; aqui apetece desviar Beauvoir e afirmar que “On ne naît pas gitane : on le devient”. Os povos ciganos existem e continuam a ser perseguidos. O que se fabrica é a cigana do mito, a sedutora indomável, a cartomante, a que traz a desordem no corpo. Fabricou-a o arqueólogo de Mérimée (1890), com o seu capítulo etnográfico. Fabricaram-na a polícia, o palco e o programa de sala. E continua a ser fabricada, em 2026, por uma frase que confunde uma mulher com um destino.

A cigarreira

Esquecemo-lo com facilidade, mas Carmen entra em cena a sair de uma fábrica. Na Sevilha de Mérimée e de Bizet, as cigarreiras eram centenas de mulheres fechadas na fábrica de tabaco. Ao intervalo saem para a praça, fumam e provocam os soldados, e os homens esperam-nas como quem espera um espetáculo. Minutos depois, Carmen marca à navalha o rosto de uma colega e é entregue à tropa. A ópera abre com uma operária indisciplinada a quem é dada ordem de prisão.

Silvia Federici (2017) mostrou em Calibã e a Bruxa que a passagem do feudalismo para o capitalismo exigiu disciplinar corpos, e que o corpo das mulheres foi o primeiro território dessa disciplina. A capacidade de trabalhar, de parir e de desejar passou a ser vigiada pelo Estado, pela Igreja e pelo marido, e posta ao serviço da acumulação. Federici chama a esta ordem o patriarcado do salário: ele recebe, ela depende, e o trabalho dela em casa desaparece da conta.

Carmen escapa a tudo isto ao mesmo tempo. Ganha o seu dinheiro. Não tem marido nem casa. Quando larga a fábrica, é para o contrabando, fora também do mercado legal. Antes de ser sedutora, Carmen é perigosa, porque não está ligada a nenhum homem nem a nenhuma propriedade.

A mulher que lê as cartas

No terceiro ato, nas montanhas, Frasquita e Mercédès deitam as cartas e veem amores e riquezas. Carmen deita as suas e vê a morte, primeiro a dela, depois a dele. Quem lê o destino é a cigana. No romance de Mérimée (1890), este lado é ainda mais nítido: Carmen é feiticeira, e quem a narra é um arqueólogo que a observa como a um espécime. Na edição em livro de 1847, Mérimée acrescentou um capítulo final que é um pequeno tratado sobre os ciganos, os costumes e a língua. A mulher acaba transformada em dado etnográfico.

Federici (2017) descreve a bruxa como uma figura fabricada. Era quase sempre uma mulher pobre, muitas vezes velha, curandeira ou parteira, que sabia de ervas e de formas de evitar a gravidez, vivia fora do casamento e tinha uma sexualidade que os inquisidores imaginavam insaciável. A caça às bruxas correu a par da perseguição aos vagabundos, com leis feitas para quem andava sem terra e sem senhor. A cigana junta num só corpo a bruxa e a vagabunda: lê o destino, não tem morada, não obedece.

Carmen chegou dois séculos depois das fogueiras, e não sendo, com certeza, uma das bruxas de Federici, é, sem dúvida sua herdeira. No palco da Opéra-Comique já não se podiam queimar mulheres, mas aceitou o legado da figura e encontrou-lhe outro fim, outra forma de a matar.

Micaëla ou a mulher domesticada

Micaëla não existe em Mérimée. Foi inventada pelos libretistas, e percebe-se para quê. Chega da aldeia com uma carta da mãe de Don José, algum dinheiro e um beijo que a mãe lhe pediu que entregasse. Vem buscar o filho de volta para casa, para o casamento, para a ordem heteronormativa.

Federici (2017), no seu livro Calibã e a Bruxa, mostra que, depois da caça às bruxas, se impôs um novo modelo de feminilidade, o reverso exato da bruxa: a mulher casta, passiva, obediente, poupada e dedicada ao lar. Micaëla é esse modelo e Carmen é o seu negativo. A ópera precisa das duas, porque a divisão entre elas é a própria mensagem. Judith Butler (2023) chamou matriz heterossexual ao regime que só reconhece quem alinha sexo, género e desejo numa linha reta até ao casal reprodutivo. Carmen deseja homens, mas o desejo dela não se troca por casa nem por filhos, e por isso fica no limite do legível. “Misteriosa” é a palavra que o programa do CCB encontrou para esse limite.

Há uma terceira mulher que a ópera não imaginou. Em Combats et métamorphoses d'une femme e em Monique s'évade, Édouard Louis (2021, 2024) conta a vida da mãe, Monique. Monique foi dona de casa desde muito nova e foi humilhada durante anos por um marido que acabou por a pôr fora de casa. Anos depois, viu-se presa a outro homem que bebia, e a insultava e ameaçava. Telefona ao filho a chorar, e a fuga faz-se: com dinheiro, com um quarto, com alguém do outro lado da linha. É uma Micaëla que sai de casa e sobrevive. Leio estes livros como creio que Federici os leria. A liberdade de uma mulher pobre não se mede pela coragem dela, mede-se pela porta que lhe deixam aberta. Carmen tinha coragem de sobra. Não tinha porta.

Recusar ou entrar na linha

Logo na primeira ária, Carmen entra e avisa-nos da sua própria lei: “L’amour est enfant de Bohême, il n’a jamais, jamais connu de loi.” No fim, diante da navalha, diz a mesma coisa por outras palavras, e desta vez a orquestra cala-se enquanto ela canta. Só entra entre as frases, a rasgar o silêncio “Libre elle est née” e “et libre elle mourra!” Na praça de touros, a multidão responde-lhe sem a ouvir: “Viva! Viva! La course est belle!”

Philippe Besson escreveu o reverso do grito de Carmen em Arrête avec tes mensonges, o romance autobiográfico que publicou em 2017. Barbezieux, França, 1984. Dois rapazes do lycée Élie-Vinet amam-se às escondidas. Um, Philippe, é filho de um professor. O outro, Thomas Andrieu, é filho de agricultores, meio espanhol e desejado pelas raparigas, e é ele quem impõe o segredo. No fim do verão, Philippe parte para Bordéus, e Besson resume essa partida numa frase que eu conheço de cor sem a ter escrito: “Je rentre dans le rang.” Volto à fileira, entro na linha. A frase seguinte é “J’efface Thomas Andrieu.” Philippe aceita o caminho que lhe traçaram, os estudos e a carreira que esperam dele, e enterra o amor por Thomas. Entrar na linha, rentrer dans le rang, é, aqui, entrar no armário.

A expressão vem da caserna: é o soldado que regressa à formação. Don José conhece bem esse gesto. No segundo ato, quando o clarim chama os soldados ao quartel, ele quer voltar às fileiras — “Tu ne m'a pas compris... Carmen, c'est la retraite… Il faut que, moi, je rentre au quartier pour l'appel.” ­—, e Carmen troça dele, imitando o toque do clarim — “Ta ta ta ta, c'est le clairon qui sonne!”. E percebe ali que ele nunca deixará de ser um soldado obediente. Mas “rang” quer dizer também posição social, e Philippe, filho de professor, regressa ao lugar que a escola lhe reservava. Thomas fica no seu. Trabalha em Espanha, volta à quinta da família, tem um filho. Em 2016 suicida-se. Philippe Besson escreve o livro dedica-o à sua memória.

Carmen recusa “le rang” e é morta por isso. Thomas entra nele por inteiro, “le rang” que a sua classe lhe destinava, e a linha mata-o na mesma, só que lentamente, numa pena cumprida dia a dia, durante trinta e dois. É neste dueto que encontro resposta à pergunta com que entrei no CCB. Leio Carmen como figura kuir, não pela ideia liberal de uma mulher dona das suas escolhas (isso seria demasiado fácil), mas pelo que ela recusa. E o que ela recusa é a economia da posse, com o seu casal, a sua propriedade e a promessa que amarra. Conheço os dois caminhos. Quem cresceu com um desejo que não cabia no guião sabe que a escolha raramente é entre a liberdade e a morte. Costuma ser entre duas maneiras de pagar por esse desejo: à vista, como Carmen, ou em silêncio, como Thomas.

Mas não devo ficar apenas nisto. Carmen foi escrita por homens, para um público que a queria ver, e a liberdade dela é também uma fantasia masculina de liberdade. Podemos aplaudi-la durante três atos porque sabemos como acaba: no quarto ato, a liberdade dela é condenada à pena última, e o libreto entrega a José o papel de carrasco. A bruxa continua a arder, agora por outros meios. Sublinho e deixo esta tensão em aberto, porque é nela que o mito vive.

A navalha de Don José

Don José é cabo de dragões, navarro e filho obediente. Por causa de Carmen vai preso, perde a patente, deserta e acaba contrabandista. Fez tudo por ela, diz, e é isso que ele julga que lhe dá direito sobre ela. Mata-a à porta da praça de touros, no momento em que lá dentro a multidão aclama Escamillo. A ovação ao matador cobre o assassinato de uma mulher.

Raewyn Connell escreveu que a violência faz parte da dominação masculina mas é também a medida da sua imperfeição. Quem precisa da faca já perdeu a autoridade que reclama. As últimas palavras de José dizem tudo: “C'est moi qui l'ai tuée! Ah! Carmen! ma Carmen adorée!” Confessa e reclama a posse no mesmo fôlego.

Em Portugal, o Observatório de Mulheres Assassinadas da UMAR registou 22 femicídios em 2025, todos cometidos por homens, a maioria na casa que a vítima partilhava com o agressor (Armada et al., 2026). Em mais de metade dos casos houve armas brancas. A navalha de Sevilha chegou às nossas estatísticas.

Em 2018, em Florença, a encenação de Leo Muscato pôs Carmen a arrancar a pistola a José e a matá-lo, para denunciar a violência contra as mulheres. Houve vaias. Mas a ação passava-se num campo rom, e o próprio Muscato admitiu que esperava a polémica por aí, e não pelo final. Não veio. Para salvar Carmen, ninguém pensou em tirá-la do lugar de cigana, a Outra que o mito precisa que ela seja. Inverter o final não chega para desfazer o mito. É preciso desmontar quem o conta.

O que fica

O aplauso no fim de Carmen tem sempre qualquer coisa de estranho: aplaude-se uma voz e um cadáver ao mesmo tempo. Não peço que se proíba a ópera nem que se lhe reescreva o fim. Gosto demasiado daquela música e é por isso que não posso fingir que é inocente. Peço outra coisa, mais difícil: que uma instituição pública deixe de escrever “natureza da Mulher”, para mais com maiúscula, onde devia escrever história. Essa natureza foi fabricada, e o mistério que a envolve tem nome e Federici ensinou-nos a dizê-lo. Quando é história, chama-se caça às bruxas: a longa operação que produziu a mulher dócil e fez da insubmissa uma bruxa. Quando é notícia, chama-se femicídio. Carmen não morre: matam-na.

E continuam a matar-se mulheres, aqui, nas casas onde vivem, sem cenário, sem plateia, sem aplauso.

———

Referências

Armada, F. C., Dias, C. M., Pontedeira, C., Iglesias, C., Silva, L., Souza, T. M. C., Rodrigues, L., Medeiros, M., Figueiredo, S., & Magalhães, M. J. (2026). Dados 2025 – Relatório Anual do Observatório de Mulheres Assassinadas. UMAR – União de Mulheres Alternativa e Resposta. www.umar.pt

Beauvoir, S. de. (2014). Le deuxième sexe (Tome 2)—L’expérience vécue. Editions Gallimard.

Besson, P. (2017). Arrête Avec Tes Mensonges—Prix Maison de la Presse 2017 (1st ed). Julliard Editions.

Bétine, J. (2021, fevereiro 21). Carmen, l’amour d’aimer. https://rebellyon.info/Carmen-l-amour-d-aimer-22913

Butler, J. (2023). Problemas de género: Feminismo e subversão da identidade (N. Quintas, Trad.; 1.a reimpressão). Orfeu Negro.

Federici, S. (2017). Calibã e a bruxa: Mulheres, corpo e acumulação primitiva. Editora Elefante.

Louis, É. (2021). Combats et métamorphoses d’une femme. Éditions du Seuil.

Louis, É. (2024). Monique s’évade: Le prix de la liberté. Éditions du Seuil.

Marx, K. (1871). Civil War in France.

Merimée, P. (1890). Carmen. https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Carmen_%28M%C3%A9rim%C3%A9e%29/Texte_entier

Besson, Philippe (2017). Arrête avec tes mensonges. Paris: Julliard.

Bizet, Georges (1875). Carmen. Opéra-comique em quatro atos. Libreto de Henri Meilhac e Ludovic Halévy. Paris.

Butler, Judith (2017). Problemas de Género: Feminismo e Subversão da Identidade. Tradução de Nuno Quintas. Lisboa: Orfeu Negro.

Centro Cultural de Belém (2026). Carmen de Bizet. Texto de apresentação. Lisboa: CCB.

Connell, R. W. (1995). Masculinities. Cambridge: Polity Press.

Federici, Silvia (2020). Calibã e a Bruxa: As Mulheres, o Corpo e a Acumulação Original. Tradução de Pedro Morais. Lisboa: Orfeu Negro.

Louis, Édouard (2021). Combats et métamorphoses d'une femme. Paris: Seuil.

Louis, Édouard (2024). Monique s'évade. Paris: Seuil.

Marx, Karl (1871). The Civil War in France. Londres: Associação Internacional dos Trabalhadores.

Mérimée, Prosper (1847 [1845]). Carmen. Paris: Michel Lévy.

Observatório de Mulheres Assassinadas / UMAR (2026). Dados sobre mulheres assassinadas em Portugal em 2025. Apresentação pública, 6 de março de 2026.

Rebellyon.info — Carmen, l’amour d’aimer

#cuir #kuir #carmen #bizet #federici #femicídio #ópera #feminismo #anticiganismo #CCB

Por Orlando Figueiredo, desde as margens.

---

I dont know how i feel anymore. i dont think ive known for quite some time, actually. its like theres always something going on in my head, i ague with myself more than i speak to anyone else, i dont even know what im arguing about half the time. i just know that im tired of hearing my own thoughts all the time. ive tired to ignore them, distract myself, keep myself busy, anything really. sometimes it works. sometimes it doesnt, i spend my days trying not to think, and my nights doing exactly that. i dont know how people deal with themselves. i never learned how to deal with myself, clearly. ive spent so much time trying to uderstand what goes on in my head and im still no closer to understanding anything. im starting to think that im not meant to be part of anyones life. everything seems to go wrong eventually. doesnt matter how good things were before i arrived. whenever i step into someones life, something goes wrong. whatever was suppsoed to be sweet about it. whatever was supposed to be good. somehow gets ruined along the way. sometimes its my fault, sometimes i dont even know what happened, but the result doesnt change. something breaks, someone gets hurt, and im left standing there. everything i touch just gets ruined or fades away. i dont know what is it about me. i dont know why things have to be this way. ive tried making sense of it, but theres only so much time you can look at the same thing before stop expecting a different result. a cruel soul, a curse, whatever name people prefer. ive heard enough of them, they dont affect me. and i dont really care. but it really hits differently when it someone i deeply adore with my whole soul. it is different when i think about angel. ive ben thinking about her quite a lot lately. about her days, her life, the things shes got going on. an i keep getting this... impression that things are good when im not around. then i come along, and theres another problem. another argument, another mistake, another personality i need to fix. another thing she has to put up with. i dont know to explain it without making it sound like im keeping a record, but i notice these things. i notice everything. i notice when something that was suppsoed to be nice turns into something difficult because of me. and i feel terrible about it. i dont know what she sees in me, honestly. why does she still want me? why would she want someone who seems to bring trouble wherever he goes? i know ive promised her things. a family, a home, somewhere quiet and safe. i wanted to give her a life where she could finally put her worries down and just. be happy. i wanted that more than you could ever imagine. but i dont know if ican give her any of it. i can barely keep myself together. theres so much i havent dealt with, i cant run away from my past. i cant undo it either and the consequences that dont care how tired i am of dealing with them. and my head. god my head is a mess. im tired. i dont know what to do with all these thoughts. sometimes. i tihnk she would be better off forgetting about me entirely. not having to wonder where i am, whether im alright, whether ive made another mess of things. just living her life. having her normal days. meeting her promises and plans without having to carry mine alongside them. i dont like admitting that. i dont even know whether i believe it every time i think about it. but it keeps coming back. i cant picture a future with me in it. everytime i try it gets blurry, im not supposed to be here, im supposed to be dead long time ago and now that im here. i dont know what to do with myself most of the time. i dont know what im waiting for, i dont know. just. maybe me staying away from her will get her used to me not handling all of this anymore. i dont know how ill get from where i am now to the person i promised id be for her. i dont know if i can outrun everything thats following me, i dont know how much longer i can keep this up. shes a poor soul.

I dont know what im supposed to do with any of this i dont know what i want, ive spent most of this going around in circles, and i could continue doing that without arriving anywhere. i just wish i knew what to do with myself. its 7th of november. you know whats funny? the number seven always been cruel to me.

Sicerely, That's all. you can stop looking at me now.

In the bar I sat like I had been planted and let you break me like a wind forms direction. You said: she doesn’t like that we’re so close.

I boughed, my hands holding my head like glory vines. Tears slept in their branches.

I moved toward the door.

The rain had formed my back into a sorrow

denying the light

of how you could be my whole world of words —silenced in a storm.

——-

I am still addicted to the river of you,

chasing you downstream

watching you leave

like a branch over Niagara.

#poetry

Publicat la 29 noiembrie 2017


Cuibul vulturilor stă acolo sus, deasupra ceții, cu Königssee în stânga și Salzburg-ul în dreapta. Când l-a vizitat, Dinu încerca să facă legătura cu secvențele din filmul din copilărie. Oare unde era telefericul?


Aici accesul se făcea cu un lift într-un puț vertical de câteva zeci (o sută?!) de metri. Urcase din Grödig, în apropiere de Salzburg, cu telefericul pe Untersberg, dar asta era pe partea cealaltă a văii.


Da… Trebuia să se mai documenteze. Fusese surprins să constate că drumul pietruit, „decorat” cu o mulțime de tuneluri, fusese construit în doar doi ani. Doi ani! Nici nu avea rost să se enerveze gândindu-se la ritmul de melc cu care se construiau drumurile în țară. Așa că înlătură ca pe un țânțar gândul care se conturase ca un nor negru. Preferă ordinea și rigoarea nemțească și aerul curat din Alpi.


La urcare lăsă mașina în parcarea (cu plată, evident) special amenajată în apropierea drumului ce șerpuia până în vârf. Autobuzul îi ducea pe turiști până în parcarea de la intrarea tunelului ce ducea la lift. La ieșirea din lift, cabana de piatră și vederea panoramică. Avu noroc de vreme frumoasă și atmosferă limpede. În dreapta, Austria, în rest, Germania. Berchtesgadener Land, cu indicativul BGL la plăcuțele de înmatriculare.


Da, lacul îi atrăgea privirea. Salzburgul îl vizitase în câteva rânduri. Acum trebuia să meargă la biserica Sf. Bartolomeu, la care se ajungea doar cu vaporul. Și se duse. Pe la mijlocul traseului, căpitanul opri ambarcațiunea și le ceru turiștilor să facă liniște. Trecuseră deja de punctul de maximă adâncime: optzeci de metri! Deschise o trapă mascată și scoase o trompetă.


Făcu un pas pe marginea înaltă a ambarcațiunii și fredonă câteva acorduri. Se opri. Liniște. Muntele-i răspunse cu aceeași „voce”. Din nou căpitanul îi cântă muntelui, dar de data asta un pic mai mult. Muntele se grăbi să-i răspundă. Căpitanul continuă dialogul, iar muntele intrase în joc și conversația continuă fără pauze. Aplauze!

La biserică, pauză și un tur pe poteca marcată prin pădurea ca un parc al unui castel. Puțin mai sus, pe firul apei, ducea la o capelă. Cei echipați, documentați și dotați cu hărți continuau pe traseele turistice. Dinu făcu stânga-mprejur spre debarcader…

Concert, turism, încântare. Drumul spre casă…

This post is part of the RPG Blog Carnival: Underworld & Wilderness Adventures.

As soon as I announced the carnival, I received two submissions, one in a comment of the original post, and one via discord. The former is Roll 4 Ruin: Classic Dungeon Generator by Nocturnal Peacock. It contains 184 illustrated dungeon elements to roll (think chambers, corridors, and similar), making it a lovely complement to AD&D DMG Appendix A.

The second contribution was Keep on the Marches by my friend Ian E., a set of procedures for wilderness adventures as well as for generating random wilderness. On 28 pages it covers wilderness sequence of play, climate, terrain, biomes, movement, animals, navigation, exploration, vehicles, tracking, mishaps, weather, exploration, random lairs, random features and structures, random terrain, random settlements, and more.

Both resources fit the theme perfectly, and are worth checking out.

P.S. Do note that you do not have to write 10+ page documents to contribute—all blog posts are welcome as long as they are on topic, within November, and linked to the RPG Blog Carnival.

#RPGBlogCarnival #OSR #Resource

51 Ways To Tell It's Summer

Published: 24 December 1996
Source: Mail & Guardian

Listen, I've been told that I'm not really a Capetonian, because I don't like snoek. Not because I don't eat fish, but because I don't like snoek. If I liked snoek I wouldn't be so negative.

I could, in a club listing, mention all the names of the DJs that play in different clubs, but you would find that after going to all the clubs enough times to notice, they all play the same music. Like I could tell you different things about different clubs, but in the end it's always 7am and getting hot and you feel guilty because you should be at the beach, but you're in a night-club.

Which is not to say that the clubs are not good; that it's not beautiful, this city. It's so goddamn beautiful. Everything, all the time. It's just a different beauty for those of us that live here. What I'm trying to tell you is that it's all about how things appear. It's all about appearances. Everyone is trying to compete with the mountain. And if you've been away or never been here before, it shocks you. You may not notice, but suddenly you are competing as well. And in that competing there is a comfort. You want to be taken at face value, which allows you to take all that surrounds you as it looks on the surface: beautiful.

Listen, I live here. How do I know it's truly summer?

1 I went to my favourite bar on Friday night and recognised nobody. I felt like a stranger at my own bar counter (Capetonians think that everything is theirs).

2 You turn a corner and find yourself in a roadblock. You don't panic because you are not drunk and you aren't carrying anything. After passing through unafraid, but unstopped, you realise you miss the adrenalin rush so you contemplate getting drunk and trying to get through later.

3 And then you whisper to yourself: “A roadblock. It must be summer ...”

4 Everyone has new sandals and white feet.

5 It's so beautiful that it depresses you a little.

6 The second roadblock of summer. It's Monday morning at 2 am. You turn a corner and find yourself approaching a roadblock. You haven't slept; you are very drunk; you have a poppers stain on your shirt. You make it through but you are no longer sure if you miss that adrenalin rush.

7 The Twinkly Sea project has passed into memory.

8 You start meeting so many backpackers and “adventurers from around the world” and beautiful German models (one of whom will eventually drive you to ruin due to her ferocious drug habit and lack of money sense) that you feel like part of the international community.

9 You find yourself taking a hit of amyl nitrate to get up.

10 You feel guilty because you haven't been to the beach.

11 It's too hot to go to the beach.

12 You contemplate buying a scooter.

13 You try to promise yourself you won't go to the River Club on New Year's Eve and it starts getting on your nerves.

14 You can remember your drug dealer's phone number off-hand.

15 There are 20 people from Jo'burg sleeping in your lounge.

16 There are four people from Jo'burg sleeping in your kitchen.

17 There is a girl from Germany sleeping in your bed.

18 But it's platonic and anyway Ecstasy takes away her sexual desire.

19 You fall in love every day. Every moment of every day.

20 You can't do anything about that because there is too much choice.

21 It's almost time to go back to work.

22 You decide to quit your job.

24 And go off into the country.

25 You feel strangely empty, but you don't mind, which is, in itself, strangely relieving.

26 You discover you have learnt how to identify most foods in German and can say “my little cabbage” in French but find yourself slowly losing your grasp of your usual advanced English vocabulary.

27 The water at Clifton is warm enough to swim in. There's always something to do and never enough time. You find yourself at a new club opening every night. It's 7am and you haven't slept and you want your mummy. It's 8am, you haven't slept and you want an ice cream. It's 9am and you want ...

28 It's too much.

29 It's not enough.

30 There's a cold front coming in.

31 You order another Long Island Iced Tea.

32 The days slip by. Your attention span is so short that you can only think in lists.

33 You find yourself saying “it's so goddamn beautiful” at least three times a day.

37 It's so goddamn beautiful.

38 Another day slips by.

39 The third roadblock of summer doesn't bother you as you are now taking the back roads as a matter of course to avoid the traffic.

40 You recognise everybody.

41 You discover that your electronic phonebook cannot handle foreign address configurations.

42 It's so goddamn beautiful.

43 Your evenings are constructed from conversations with other people about their memories of them.

44 You stop taking your own car to the beach.

45 You're so tired.

46 It's too hot to sleep.

47 You know the Rikki's number by heart.

48 Your drug dealer is giving you bulk discounts.

49 You have no money left, but you always manage to find some.

50 You constantly have sand between your toes.

51 Your hair is a shade lighter.

And then imperceptibly it's over, the roadblocks stop, the tourists go home, the beaches are accessible and well ... There is no one sleeping in your lounge. You still have at least two months of solid beach weather ahead.

You went to the River Club on New Year's Eve.

Your drug dealer has been arrested. Apfelmus has slipped from your daily consumption. You go to your favourite bar and discover your friends are all back from New York and Amsterdam and Mozambique.

You are taking the main roads again.

It's so goddamn beautiful.

Lydia's Weekly Lifestyle blog is for today's African girl, so no subject is taboo. My purpose is to share things that may interest today's African girl.

This week's contributors: Lydia, Pépé Pépinière, Titi. This week's subjects: Friday Office Fashion, Thrift sales are up, Cursed by Gold? Free pads? Room with a view, and Mussels at the Cyril Restaurant and Grill at the Bulgarian Cultural Center

---

Friday Office Fashion: Casual, But Don’t Overdo It. It’s Friday, the weekend is calling, and suddenly your corporate wardrobe starts whispering: “Jeans. Sneakers. Oversized everything.” But for the Accra corporate girl, Casual Friday doesn’t mean looking like you accidentally took a wrong turn on your way to brunch. The goal is relaxed, stylish, and still very much boss-lady appropriate. Think smart jeans with a crisp shirt, tailored trousers with a chic polo or knit top, or a relaxed midi dress paired with clean sneakers. You can loosen up without losing the polish. The secret? Keep one structured element in your outfit. If your trousers are casual, wear a polished blazer. If you're wearing denim, add a sophisticated blouse and elegant accessories. Balance is everything. And please—Casual Friday is not an excuse for bedroom slippers, overly distressed jeans, or that tired T-shirt from university. Your Friday look should say: “Yes, I’m ready for the weekend—but I can still handle a 2 p.m. meeting if necessary.” Because being comfortable is great, but being comfortable and effortlessly stylish? That’s the real corporate girl flex.

Thrift sales are up. It’s not only in Ghana that we like to scout for nice dresses from second-hand shops or cheaper still, from bend-down boutiques. Europe is playing its part as well. Websites like Vinted and Depop offer second-hand dresses and other items directly from seller to buyer (with a commission for the platform of course). Sales are up 60% compared with the previous year. What used to be shameful (wearing second hand stuff, meaning you were poor) is now becoming trendy and world environment saving. Next thing we’ll be re-exporting our selected finds to where they came from. Anyway, if you say recycling, Africa has always been in the lead.

Cursed by Gold? Those who are in farming will know that it is more and more difficult to find farm labour. One of the reasons?? The youth goes for galamsey, and once they have a little bit of money they leave the country. And typically it is the more entrepreneural ones who will decide to leave, so we’ll be left with the laggards, and without gold.

Free pads? H.E. John Dramani Mahama once proposed this so that girls could continue to attend school, but in our society if you say menstruation pad you almost say unspoken words and his proposal was ridiculed. But we should talk about this, it’s an ever reoccurring issue, and there is nothing ridiculous or dirty about it. In France the compulsory universal medical insurance reimburses two reusable pads and menstruation panties per year for girls up to 26 years old. At the same time the products must have been technically approved, so they do not contain dangerous chemicals.

Room with a view. I decided to have a few days away from the rush and booked a room in Afiki hotel in Ankwanda (a small fishing village), 20 minutes after Elmina. The room has views of the village and the sea beyond, with a very good view from the balcony. Nice and relaxing. They have a medium sized pool as well and are right on the beach. About as close to paradise as you can get. The place is not that popular and room rates are a bit okay. Many similar places on the sea now charge between 1500 and 2500 GHC per night… But hélas, paradise eluded. The room itself was okay, with a nice bathroom, but the view was onto a few heaps of garbage and blocks and a lot of goats. Standing on the very narrow balcony didn't change much except that looking into the direction of the sea you now also saw the back of a staircase. Moral of the story: ask for pictures before you book. And the next night the villagers were having a festival, the very “hotel beach” was full of littering people and a huge sound installation which even the room window could not filter out and I had dinner in the open air hotel restaurant with earplugs in. I had meanwhile changed to a room which indeed had a reasonable view, but the lighting was only one lamp on the ceiling, no bedside lamps. This bathroom was funny, it had a big window towards the room with a curtain in front of it, so if you wanted you could observe what was happening there from the room itself. Rooms…..

Mussels at the Cyril Restaurant and Grill at the Bulgarian Cultural Center (10 Kakramadu Road, Cantonments, Accra). I was told they had fresh mussels again, and indeed they were huge and fresh and nicely cooked with some spices and carrots. I think it’s the wife of the manager who does the cooking. She previously had a restaurant in Amsterdam, and I’d say she knows what she’s doing. The typical Ghanaian mussel can be found at low tides on rocks at the beach, but they are small, maybe biggest is 2 inches. But these are from Japan, up to 4 inches. Bought in Tema. Strange? They stick to the bottom of ships and thus travel the world. They had a big all comprising fish dish for 2 as well with crabs, prawns, shrimps, oysters, clams, lobsters, squid and octopus. Finger bowls provided. I had grilled chicken there the other day as well, nicely grilled and juicy, also recommended.

Lydia...

Do not forget to hit the subscribe button and confirm in your email inbox to get notified about our posts.

I have received requests about leaving comments/replies. For security and privacy reasons my blog is not associated with major media giants like Facebook or Twitter. I am talking with the host about a solution. for the time being, you can mail me at wunimi@proton.me

I accept invitations and payments to write about certain products or events, things, and people, but I may refuse to accept and if my comments are negative then that's what I will publish, despite your payment. This is not a political newsletter. I do not discriminate on any basis whatsoever.

She continues to grow and light up our lives with every smile.

For whatever reason, going from month three to five felt incredibly long. Almost longer than going from zero to three months. I think it's perhaps because life was a bit busier as we had more visits with family, doctor visits, holidays, and the like.

Our little girl is growing incredibly fast, something I'm sure every new parent says. Her gummy smile is what gets me. All it takes is just one of those and I'm filled up with love.

We are heading into the big holidays at the end of the year. More visits, a couple more doctor visits (including the big six months).

Almost a year ago, our nephews visited. The youngest was six months old at the time and I remember thinking that in a year, our child would be a similar age.

It's wild that we are now living that reality.

#personal

Nov. 6, 2026

Recently, my partner and I purchased a house. Owning a home was not something I ever dreamed of, but in this area, rents have gotten so high that owning a home is about the same price, or in our case, far cheaper.

We were able to pay for our house in cash. Again, not something I ever dreamed would be possible. My partner's Grandmother left her a sizable inheritance. Not a lot of money to an actual rich person, but a hell of a lot of money to a poor person. She didn't want to eat into these savings too much, so we were initially open to getting a medium-sized mortgage to cover the difference after doing a large down payment.

Then my parents entered the picture. They have been super supportive of our relationship and our decision to live relatively close to home, near a cool town they love to visit. Way back in the early 80's, their parents had covered the cost of their home, so they wanted to that forward to us. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, they also wanted to show their support for my sobriety and recovery (3 years + 8 months sober!). They see all the healthy changes in me and wanted to show their support by giving us this huge, financial gift.

We knew relatively early on that they were going to help out with the cost of the house, because they mentioned it no longer after we told them we were looking. But we didn't know initially that between their contribution and my partner's, we would be able to cover the entire cost of the house in cash.

For about three months, we looked at place after place without ever really finding a perfect fit. Some properties came close but were ultimately ruled out for various reasons.

After seeing about twenty properties, we finally saw “the one.” We loved the vibe even before we set foot in the house. There were beautiful, old trees throughout the yard, a patch of woods, a fire circle, some grape vines on an aging arbor. This place was cute! Plus, it had solar panels! Also, it was listed at $41,000 below our original budget, right when we were starting think we might need to loan additional funds from my parents to afford house that was actually “turn key,” as opposed to the overwhelming number of homes we saw listed way above their current value, in need of a lot of work.

We decided that we wanted to submit our bid before we pulled out of the driveway. Our Realtor was actually finishing up a brief, much needed vacation, so she wasn't even the one who showed us the property. I imagined her doing all the paperwork while crammed into an aisle seat on a crowded airplane.

Just as we were submitting our bid, we found out there was another bid already submitted. Crap! We knew that this meant the house was probably going to go for more than it was listed, something we were hoping to avoid due to the fact that despite it's relatively modest price-tag for the area, it was listed well-above it's most recent appraisal. But we had agreed we were willing to negotiate up to $16,000 over the listing price. Again, we were thinking: “Hey, it's more than this property is probably worth, but we love it, and we'll still be under our original budget. Let's do it!”

Suffice it to say, the process went way faster than either of us expected. For about four days, it felt like we were on a roller coaster that I did not on even plan on getting on. The other bid had an escalation cap of $318,000. We outbid them at $322,000. This should have felt like a success. We had finally found our place, won a competitive bidding war, and still came in under budget. For perspective, we were willing to go up to $400,000 with additional loan money from my parents, so we should be celebrating, right?

Wrong. I was so stressed that week, I didn't sleep for two nights in a row. All of a sudden, the reality of owning a home, of committing to live in one place indefinitely with the same partner, of how old the septic tank was (let's not talk about it), of how privileged we were to be able to pay with inherited cash, of outbidding another party that also wanted this house (Sorry, y'all. I hope you found your place!), of not playing our cards right in the negotiating process (I still think we could have gotten it for cheaper), of not owning a home for 43 years, and then in less than a week, all of that changing. I was a rambler and a rover, and a wanderer it seems (Buffy Saint-Marie). I was an addict who ruined an 8-year relationship that ended in financial instability and being forced to live in a benevolent, insane woman's house. I never lived up to everyone's expectations of me, a chronic underachiever, never believing in myself enough to pursue my passions and dreams, always running from life and ultimately myself.

I never imagined how stressful, anxious, and fearful I would feel when we finally signed on the dotted line.

Now, we're most likely going to have a closing date of either Dec. 1 or 2, which is less than one month away. How did all of this happen? How did I go from being at rock bottom four years ago in a failed relationship to owning a home and being in the best relationship of my life? How am I not going to fuck this up?

I've had to use all the recovery tools at my disposal to not freak out on a daily basis since we signed the buyer's agreement. I still get nervous, anxious, and fearful almost every day. I imagine it will get worse as the date approaches, and perhaps even worse than that when we finally move in, and I realize that we made the biggest mistake of our lives?

Or did we? Maybe not. Maybe we did the best we could with the knowledge and resources we had at the time. Maybe we did find the perfect place for us to live and grow together, explore our passions, and build a life through staying put. Maybe this will be good for me. Maybe it will give my life more direction, more stability, more love.

I can only hope so.

Tata for now!

Friday Night Basketball

Tonight my college basketball game of choice finds the Valparaiso Beacons (formerly known as the Crusaders) traveling to West Lafayette's Mackey Arena to play the Purdue Boilermakers in a game scheduled to start at 5:30 PM CT. With this early start time, I should be able to follow the entire game before sleep sends me to bed.

And the adventure continues.

Peu importe les voyages, peu importe les expériences, peu importe les mésaventures, peu importe les malheurs ou les bonheurs.

La seule chose qui compte c’est notre manière de regarder le monde.

Quel est mon prisme ? Quels sont mes biais ?

Le sublime est ici et maintenant. Reste maintenant à s’exercer à le voir, le ressentir.

Tout se passe en nous.

Spanish Love Songs' new album, Future Nausea, came out today. For some reason, I thought its release date was next Friday. Friday the thirteenth, seemed fitting. I guess I was wrong, and I'm glad. Little surprises are always nice.

I have been listening to it alternating with Light Years' Resuscitate, which also released today. Although I have to be honest and say I didn't have any idea when this album was supposed to come out. I actually thought Light Years was long gone, so when they dropped the title track as a single a few weeks ago, I was stoked, but it was totally out of left field for me. It was actually kind of a weird coincidence. Recently I have been listening a lot to their 2015 album I'll See You When I See You, and then boom, Resuscitate makes its surprise appearance.

I can honestly never tell why I'll suddenly be compelled to listen to an old album (fuck, it came out over a decade ago?!) but I can hazard a few guesses in this case. The lyrics on the closing track might give you a few hints. And the opening track always hooks itself into my eardrums, too. It's an upbeat album that somehow meshes with my mood when I'm feeling down.

Which I have been feeling quite often these days. Today, in particular. Which led me to wonder, like the age-old debate over the primacy of either the chicken or the egg, do I seek out this kind of music when I'm feeling this way, or does this music make me feel this way?

To be sure, I was already feeling this way. I guess what I'm saying is, does listening to this kind of music prolong or deepen these moods? Should I force myself to listen to some upbeat shit and just fake it til I make it? Am I just wallowing in it?

I don't have any answers to those questions, but so far I have found Future Nausea oddly uplifting. I felt that way about their last album, No Joy as well. Now that's an album I absolutely love. “Pendulum” is one of my all-time favorite songs, it's beautiful. It's about a difficult period of time, and it reminds me of a very sad thing in particular, but I also feel hope swell within me when I listen to it.

Regarding Future Nausea, while lyrics about turning forty obvious hit me right in the gut, for some reason the resignation of “I thought we put this to bed / I guess we're going again” in the first track really speaks to where I'm at right now. There's hope, there, though. I love the lyrics “But when I was feeling lower than everything else / Every wrong move led me to you” in “See You on the Way Out” and perhaps just the whole vibe of that song in particular.

I'm excited to listen to it more over the coming weeks, to me it feels a bit more like a concept album in terms of how certain ideas repeat and are tweaked as you work your way through the tracks. So, it will take a bit more time to truly trace those lines throughout the album and try to come to terms with what meaning I draw from them. Or something. That's my extremely uneducated take on an album that came out today.

As for the Light Years album, it's good. It's a bit more straightforward in terms of just being pop punk goodness, they've grown a bit since their last album but it still feels very familiar overall. Not going to lie and say it is approaching anywhere near I'll See You When I See You for me, but that's just how it goes. There are certainly some bangers on Resuscitate, though.

I figured I'd try to write something here that isn't just totally depressing cryptic stuff addressed to the no-longer living. So you got my rambling about two albums that came out today. Honestly, not sure it's any better, but hey: JUST. POST.

I'm not dead, at least. FYI.

< Back to the Index

First published in 2008, this article was a watershed in human understanding of our relationships with each other and the world around us. Definitely a must read—today!

This edition of The Doctor’s Notes covers an issue of paramount importance: personal firewalls. Personal firewalls are a vital component to every individual’s mental health, using different methods to filter unwanted psychic energy in the form of entropic resonances.

Entropic resonances transmit energy between individuals and through time, including some forms of information. This information transfer affects the self identity of the individual, plus the ability of the individual to identify other individuals at an unconscious level.

Personal firewalls help control and manipulate this energy, leading to improvements in individual mental balance and health. With advanced research at the Center for engenetics^.org Studies, we have now begun to unlock important secrets of personal firewalls—and what they mean to you.

Understanding Personal Firewalls

In order to understand these phenomena, we must first understand personal firewalls. Personal firewalls are present in all humans, at varying levels of strengths and capabilities.

Focused around the individual’s Heisenberg center, personal firewalls protect against unwanted changes of psychic energy in the individual’s quantum levels. Because quantum levels or “states” determine emotions and more importantly emotional reactions in a given situation, protecting against unwanted changes is a foundation for ensuring mental stability.

Because quantum levels or ‘states’ determine emotions and more importantly emotional reactions in a given situation, protecting against unwanted changes is a foundation for ensuring mental stability.

Personal firewalls themselves have three methods of filtering unwanted energy: quantum energy packet filtering; stateful filtering; and consciousness layer filtering. In the first case, the energy that is exchanged between individuals is blocked at its most atomic level: that of the quantum or “packet” level.

Packets of psychic energy are either blocked or allowed to transfer based solely on the control of the personal firewall. If the firewall is strong, packets from undesirable sources are blocked, while weak firewalls all unwanted negative energy through. This is less than desirable.

In the case of stateful filtering, not only are packets filtered, but also the energy stream that the packets are part of is evaluated as well. By filtering this way, sources can be evaluated along with the kind of energy being transferred.

Stateful filtering explains how individuals may allow criticism from friends, for example, that they would not allow from strangers. This requires a much higher level of control of the individual’s personal firewall, which can only be developed through intensive education and training in the field of engenetics^.org.

By far the most important filtering of the personal firewall is that of consciousness filtering. Consciousness filtering takes place on the conscious layer or the “self-aware” part of the personal firewall that the individual has actual conscious control over.

All other filtering takes place at the subconscious level, which only extensive training can influence. The consciousness layer, on the other hand, is that part of the individual’s mind of which the individual is continually aware. Consciousness filtering is controlled by the higher brain functions, including the higher orders of the psychological mind.

Quite obviously this energy can have huge positive—and negative—impacts on the psychic well-being of the individual.

Without the consciousness filtering, the human mind would resemble that of lower animals that only react on instinct, such as lizards.

Roles and Responsibilities

With this understanding of the various aspects of the personal firewall, it is critical to have a fundamental understanding of what role the personal firewall performs, and how it prevents the individual from various psychic attacks.

At their most atomic level, personal firewalls protect the individual from unwanted entropic resonant energy while allowing positive energy to be transferred. This is done by controlling the way that the individual’s quantum levels accept or deny the psychic energy quantum packets that are transferred via entropic resonances from other individuals and through time. Quite obviously this energy can have huge positive—and negative—impacts on the psychic well-being of the individual.

One other important function of personal firewalls is to perform what is known as identification translation. Taking place on the quantum packet level, identification translation allows the human mind to determine internally the identity of others around them—and whether they know them at all.

It goes without saying that this translation can be confused—spoofed, if you will, into thinking that the entropic energy source is coming from a known source (normal Gustavian identification translation). In some cases, this will cause the individual to mistakenly “feel” that they know someone, when in reality, they are under psychic attack.

Attacks Through Negative Energy

These psychic attacks can come in many forms as well. One of the basic attacks that individuals face every day is that of information spoofing, also known as lying. In this attack, the quantum energy is transferred (along with information) between individuals. The attack occurs when one individual attempts to transfer negative energy while intentionally communicating false information.

A similar form of psychic attack occurs in the form of communication hijacking. This form of attack occurs when the individual is flooded with a broadcast of entropic energy with false or misleading information. Otherwise known as propaganda, this attack is very insidious on many levels, especially since it can only be prevented by the joint use of stateful and consciousness filtering.

Unfortunately, in today’s modern society individuals are being constantly bombarded with communication hijacking attacks. This must be guarded against in order to help ensure independence of thought and low negative entropic resonance.

By far the most prevalent form of attack comes in the form of denial-of-consciousness attacks.

By far the most prevalent form of attack comes in the form of denial-of-consciousness attacks. In these attacks, an individual attempts to drain the target of all their psychic energy. By effectively being blasted by the attacker on the conscious layer, the individual begins to lose quantum energy at the lower psychic levels that affect the physical body.

In extreme cases, this form of attack can lead to unconsciousness—and even death. Generally these attacks are not that serious, and usually involve someone telling the individual a long story about their childhood, what they did on their vacation or some other boring topic.

A more general form of attack can occur when groups of individuals are involved, such as in meetings. These attacks are known as distributed denial-of-consciousness attacks, or DDOC, and can be just as deadly as individual attacks.

Psychic Combat!

In order to combat these psychic attacks, individuals have a number of tools available to them. One the most important is that of a Heisenberg proxy. The Heisenberg proxy is a manifestation of the individual’s Heisenberg center, and helps individuals maintain their sense of identity in both psychological and social contexts.

Maintaining a strong sense of identity is extremely important in preventing energy loss due to entropy, either due to attacks or due to ambient entropic decay. Through the focused use of a Heisenberg proxy, an individual can maintain control of their Heisenberg center—and their personal firewall.

A strong personal firewall will therefore prevent loss of any energy that is caused through entropic resonant loss. Obviously this will lead to better mental balance and improved physical health.

Knowledge is the Key

Even with the knowledge of these risks and how to combat them that have been gained through hard work over time, much remains to learn. And that is where you, my friends, can help.

Research involves experimentation and extensive computer modeling. All of this is very expensive. So I am asking you to donate what you can to help engenetics^.org learn more about this extremely important subject. Remember, only you can help make the future a reality—today! Ω

Dr. M. E. Tabyánan Executive Director and Founder The Center for engenetics^.org Studies

“The family without personal firewalls is a broken family, indeed.” —Families Need Personal Firewalls (1998)

---

Ask The Doctor!

Question: My family always seems to be fighting. Can I fix that? —Terri Gold, Tulsa OK The Doctor: Families are tough nuts to crack. The difficulty is the balance between positive quantum entanglements and negative ones. A much more important question is the degree of fighting your family engages in. Domestic violence cannot be tolerated, and if this is the case, I urge you to seek counseling immediately.

---

What Others Are Saying

“I owe my strong family life to Doctor Tabyánan. Thank you, sir!” —Brian Packard, Washington DC, USA

“In the past, I was nervous about sex. Now I understand my fears were unfounded.” —Jessica Goodly, Los Angeles, CA, USA

“My life seemed to have no meaning until I found engenetics.org. Now I can see the future with hope. Thank you, Doctor!” —John Xi, Hong Kong, China

---

#thedoctorsnotes #personalfirewalls #heisenbergcenters #quantumlevels #entropicresonances

nous sommes quelques grammes sur des fils tendus

lignes de terre lignes de ciel

divergence au partage des nuages

faut-il vraiment ouvrir nos ailes au vent d'orage

---

photo © Armelle Le Maréchal @Armellemanu@pixelfed.fr

---

nous sommes aveugles poteaux ancrés sur les hauts fonds où se brisent les vagues

nous tenons

l'eau rageuse et l'écume sur nous sans cesse s'écroulent

nous tenons sur une ligne invisible qui va jusqu'aux entrailles de la mer

---

photo © @arkadiusz@pixelfed.social

¿Necesitas saber cuánto pagarías cada mes por un préstamo personal en Perú? El Simulador de préstamos en Perú: calcula tu cuota mensual de CalculaValorHoy calcula tu cuota fija con el sistema francés, en el que al principio pagas más intereses y menos capital.

¿Cómo funciona?

Ingresa el monto del préstamo en soles, la tasa efectiva anual (TEA) y el plazo en meses. El simulador calcula al instante tu cuota mensual, el total a pagar, los intereses totales y un cronograma de pagos mes a mes, con intereses, capital y saldo.

Un ejemplo real

Un préstamo de S/ 10.000 a 12 meses con una TEA del 45% tiene una cuota mensual de S/ 1.013,32. En total pagarías S/ 12.159,89, de los que S/ 2.159,89 son intereses. Si alargas el plazo, la cuota mensual baja, pero el total de intereses sube.

La TEA no es lo mismo que la TCEA

La TEA solo mide los intereses. La TCEA (tasa de costo efectivo anual) incluye además el seguro de desgravamen, las comisiones y los gastos, y es el costo real del crédito que la SBS obliga a informar. Compara siempre la TCEA en al menos tres entidades antes de firmar.

Antes de pedir un préstamo

• Que la cuota no supere el 30% de tu ingreso neto.
• Suma el seguro de desgravamen y cualquier cargo mensual a la cuota ofrecida.
• Recuerda el ITF (0,005%) sobre los movimientos del desembolso y los pagos.
• Puedes prepagar total o parcialmente sin penalidad: el prepago reduce los intereses.

100% gratuito, sin registro

El cálculo se hace en tu navegador y no guarda ningún dato. Es una simulación informativa: la cuota real depende de tu perfil crediticio y de las condiciones de cada entidad.

Prueba el Simulador de préstamos en Perú: calcula tu cuota mensual y planifica tus finanzas antes de firmar.