The Encamped Ones and the Elect Ones 101

In organic cotton of white and also colorgrown green and red

The encamped are donned.

Both separated and brought together they are.

Black aprons top off their outfits and they

Live out the rest of their lives

in beauty, productivity and peace.

With good behavior and showmanship of wellness,

the reward to consummate with a love

from the opposite gender quarters to make and grow a child

in this dystopian paradise.

"Sustaintative-like, and Who is the Warden?"

The prisoners 204 and 305 in the humbly

Fancy complex built for those

Left over to be encased in

Provided for and revered as well

As the planets children worship one another

Are summoned to the jobs to fix

A ceiling fan and vents at the Spirithealth Center for the encamped and

Lay clay bricks for the walls with the some of them

At for a new artisans center

to be shared by the elites of Level Core Ace and of Level Iuxtacore.

Despite the mysteries

And theories of acceleration,

Ailing aged and wise is the Earth

In fine health once more recovered

By good nutrition and good works. Good networks...

Beware of have or have not AltaNet?!

20231014

Dear Journal,

where may I begin?

I am not sure the things weighing heavy in my heart are things one is allowed to express.

Still, perhaps, I should attempt to as often as I can, because perhaps despite our selfish programming, we as a species of human beings may be able to rise a little higher to become a little bit brighter. If one becomes more selfless in their deeds, perhaps this can truly reflect in the world, and we may all be motivated to always keep burning the flames of positivity, passing it on, while being taken care of in our deepest needs.

Certainly, we could all benefit from the fruits grown in places of the sun, and from the leafy greens from places of ice. Everything in between as well could be saved if it means of value to us. How exceedingly difficult to achieve, but perhaps it is possible.

I often wonder if in Asia the language allows to discourse of the difficult topics faced in the U.S.A. I wonder if English in Asia would help as much as it has here in the U.S.A. where I am currently residing and was born in. My homeplace of birth! The social advancements regarding gender and race here are nearly worth all the troubles, though it seems stifled by its inability to grow further maybe due to restriction of nutrition. Perhaps the country takes advantage also of other regions of our globe (is it truly a sphere? Amazing!), and yet the regions who suffer and pour their help to our land need great help. Yet we need help here too. As someone whose parents both come from Korea and met in California, someone who was not able to grow up in Cupertino like all the other Korean kids from my church I used to go to until 14 years of age shortly after I went through some hard challenges, I feel I struggle with being faced with classism and racism, even from other folks of Asian heritage beyond Korea, and I have to admit I am ashamed I still often find my self also being quite racist, though maybe in general we all feel a natural disdain or fear of any and all human beings deemed other than the self. Perhaps it is all part of the plan, and a survival mechanism simply revering and hailing the information and culture we were raised surrounded in. Perhaps it is just us respecting the particular spirit of the Earth and Oceans we come from. Perhaps, it is indeed natural for us to war, as the cab driver who took me back home from the therapist and psychiatrist's clinic had said when i asked him what are his thoughts on why the globe cannot unite. Different ideas, he said, we have. Do we follow survival of the fittest, even if it means summoning our unborn children into a wretched, wicked, unclean world? Or can we put aside our ego and differences and somehow come up in repowerment and prosperity together?

I feel all of me and my concerns and actions are useless and futile, and I often contemplate suicide because no matter how i try, there is someone who is bound to either become upset or disapprove of my actions with due justice, or outright I just dishonor someone or a force that has aided and guided me along. I pray love and light, God and Cosmos His or Her or their Universe be with me in mind, body, and most of all soul, and that all can continue to be protected.

Thank you for listening, dear Journal! And I pray you do not mind i write you again soon as I can.

Kindest regards,

S.S.

I wrote this to share with therapist but never did...

thank you for all, everything, many blessings

The entire world and its citizens, including my parents and my family relatives, have sacrificed tremendously and worked very hard in love and consideration and encouragement.

Rather than to blame a single person or group, I believe the solution to an improved society in mind, heart and form involves togetherness and support as well as peace. Hopelessness begets hopelessness, but hope nurtures more hopes and thus trust and prosperity and dignity as a whole, mitigating the constant and exhaustive checks and balances, though at times, dissonance does indeed add to a more glorious harmony that resonates with enduring joy, respect and resilience in our spirit.

There is no physical proof of what I am to say. I would greatly appreciate confidentiality in sharing this, at least for now. I do not think for me to share this would be appreciated by everyone and certainly not some folks involved or for folks in our family that may be affected considering how self-sacrificing and betterment-for-all-focused my family members and all in our global society have been, struggling to achieve ethics, morals, principles and philosophy of ever clarity and radiance.

But either the true memory or fearful delusion is there.

It is a memory or delusion I remember recalling as a young child, either suppressing the truth down or it simply it not surfacing because it was never there, never happened. If anything, I may have never recalled, because everything I do each day seems to be for self-preservation, unable to connect, because I am always running away. This may be why he reminded me, not by words from his lips, but by mind. Am I hearing things as a schizo? Or have we learned from others and one another and unlocked the skill of how to communicate via our brains? Especially since the pandemic, it may have become sharper, honed. Maybe a combination of both. He wanted to help me too, to connect, to face what we run from so that we are not so tired. But we must preserve the miracle.

An image of pornography, myself a child feeling safely trapped in an apartment with no access to nature without strangers from other regions of the globe to bitterly, tiredly and with crankiness chide and compete for. Myself, too malnourished to dismiss the negativity and fight for and with positivity or encouragement and too much lacking in power to connect seamlessly and selflessly. I would have to say also, however, if I felt my actions were to save others who might be able to take the mantle of life further, then why not do this or that? Why not refrain from taking that nourishment so that another might have in place of me?

Feeling unnatural, we let our most primal drive take over where we should be pilot. I do not want to do it, but it is almost unbearable that absolutely nothing else is taking place. I should be grateful we have food, even if it is not salad or fruit, and thankful we do not have to toil to be involved in the process of creating everything we consume. But instead, I feel the opposite of sane. Then it happens. He is not aggressive. He is gentle. I would rather not look or recall every single detail. Then as deep unimagine becomes reality on the foreground, I am filled with a terror I successfully make myself not to feel.

It does not have to last long, fortunately, because he, as well as I, is probably unable also to bear the tension of pure nothingness. As if we are not even human, but monsters without bodies.

His seed-carrying fluid enters my mouth, and I am afraid that if I remove it from there, he fists will fracture my skull, and I would end. I wish no one had to feel that they had betrayed the gift of life given them.

So I do not remove it from my tongue in my face, and instead it goes down my neck where it is forgotten in the stomach.

He seems so upset by this act between us, that he rids of the video. I never see anything even close to content like that in our family abode again. This is a side note, but I wonder if I am overthinking it, or if the way my mother would wash my private areas was a bit off or odd, and the way I perversely enjoyed it as the unclean child person that I was and still rather feel to this day. Except on the days I have healthy activity, light social interaction and good, ripe fruit or a green juice.

But the years go by, and I am an unmarriageable, unemployable left-over woman with countless medical conditions many of which are undiagnosed because the world is so busy keeping it together we hardly have time or one another as brothers and sisters of the universe.

I am undisciplined and unhinged even at times, always having been a bit on the active or wild side and my favorite toy was a big horse I could place my feet down on and bounce like a pogo-stick ride. I am unable to remain calm in social settings, and it was too difficult physically to walk to high school every day. The adrenaline stings and my nerves especially around my jaws, cheeks and neck and torso hurt so much. But perhaps I have an eating disorder. I binge, like a selfish animal, desperate for the nourishment that has continuously evaded us all since well before the industrial revolution.  It of course upsets my beloved dear parent, and while my back is turned as I face the microwave, he is behind me and what feels like the back of his hand brushes by across my thin, narrow behind very close to the anus. It basically feels its touched there the way my poorly shaped hide is formed. I can practically hear the clear whispers of his brain how this brash and inconsiderate behavior of mine (especially since he lost almost all his teeth before the age ot 60) makes him "want to touch your ddongkko," a korean language slang for the word anus. It feels half endearing, and half heart-shattering. A hand at the waist from the father would have been very sweet and nice, very kind. But this did not feel so much.

I am sure many of us can relate to many of these sentiments or frustrations and situations. But why are things like this so commonplace in household? What can be done or felt so that we are all able to be more free and lead the optimal life? Consolidation and letting go can in many ways mean death or a change that is too quick or sudden and expected. It hurts progress to hoard, but at the same time these objects and items we hold dearly can help us, especially if we are able to organize in efficiency. 

I am glad we deescalate very well and prevent horrifying nightmares very early on before it begins to take hold and form. I am just so glad, thankful and relieved humanity holds on each and every day and is already making the great preparations to live the life we all dream of. 

"Kylie of Cometaregion 4"

CHAPTER ONE:

Her mother, Mara, had given birth to Kylie when she was supposed to be living alone in her apartment funded by the Intranational Collective and Coalition of Plane 4 of 4, or ICC P-4, or Cometaregion 4. Mara was born in the deserts of The Intraregion when it was still fertile before the collapse of the Terragine Water Irrigation and Mining Company.

The party and the global citizens had come to decide to name the ultimate planetary collective and its operations especially in regards to human beings and the forests, Tenua, rather than to refer to it as ICC every time.

Mara was not particularly bright in the exceptional sense, but she had her talents and was good at keeping her self busy with creative projects in textile. Her daughter, Kylie, would grow to show that her mother's talents had not quite translated down the lineage. She had double joints at the base of her thumbs and in her elbows, and she was always fascinated with the guitar and harp too, just as her father had before.

Her mother had told Kylie before that the brand new building of Section A in the female quarters was where she had once resided with her very own kitchenette, but once the local district had become known to her pregnancy, they had her move across the province to the residential structure of Section B of the female quarters where there were many more, smaller rooms and only a single, large, shared kitchen on each floor. Mara never did reveal who her child's father might be, perhaps in concern for his own well-being, but despite her having miraculously healed her many maladies with fellowship, aid, healthful drink and food over the years, she remained in struggle still yet of many of her mental illnesses, perhaps due to malnutrition during her own conception while within her mother before her. The district found this frustrating to have to deal with, but the philosophy was safety and happiness, and this meant healthy detachment of bodily persons. The child could be vulnerable to their mother, so they were to have their own room and nourishment funded by the government. Kylie could remember much of her life growing up in the lobby of Section B where she could spend time with her mother and other dwellers as they often referred to themselves in dark humor, as well as all the other mothers and their semi-separated children in the shared kitchen.

From the two great courtyards of Section B, she could exit to the perimeter, make her way to the gates, and request a transit out of the area to the splendor of the innercity to report to her various assignments, to school and district head quarters for maintenance of self-care and periodical evaluative screening. She felt a little bit ashamed she was not as good in science as her peers, or even music for that matter, but Kylie could only feel joy and gratitude for her situation, and she just knew it was an incredibly lucky time to be living despite ongoing challenges. She loved helping where she could, and she was a great assistant, and everyone thought the smallest actions she took seemed to help the main movers a great deal. They adored her, and she them. Once she turned 18, she could even apply to live in Section A, and have her very own kitchen, but her mother would have to remain at Section B, and she loved being near her mother very much.

She just prayed this year the drought would cease and rain would come. Everyone looked and felt terrible and did their job terribly when the leafy greens were not in full stock, and it was so costly to irrigate the waters from further away. Not to mention, trying diligently not to interfere with the district of the opposite hemisphere of the world, folks whom were at the top of their game making all the attempts to find another planet the inhabitants of Plane-1 could get to landing and cultivating in propriety. The desert seemed only to grow and engulf the oceans and forests, but the mind of man never does cease to invent, discover, explore, and implement solutions based in care and wonder and compassion, and despite the seemingly daunting hopelessness, the two oases of District A and District GB certainly were a testament of possibility and miracle.

Today, she was excited to be allowed her first weekend trip to kayak on the rivers of the further valley and at the beautiful Lake Canemore. She had all her gear packed, which she had been saving up for for a long while now. Her entire adolescence, really, she had been saving, and since she began volunteering for economical tasks and assignments for the district beyond school since she was 15 years old, the earliest you could start with a specially authorized permit.

The gate attendant waved her on out with a salute where she would usually wink at Kylie. She waited for her ride to collect her and take her towards her destination.

She thought to herself, she had been working very hard to prove herself to everyone she could meet that she was capable of responsibility and contribution, and she was so happy that of all people, her best friend and schoolmate Lydia would also be joining her. What a great senior treat, they thought!! Graduation was so close, and Lydia would be going to intern in District A on the other side of the globe, and they would miss each other very much. Kylie was thinking she would love to eventually get a more consistent career as careprovider soon too, which her mother would be so proud of! Maybe she could even afford for herself and her mother to live in Section C, D, or E of their district and have even more luxurious space, innovation and amenities! Their were less rules and regulations there, with more room to grow, and she could even have the opportunity to find a partner to have a child with together without so much of all that subtle reprimand from society, though she did not feel super confident about it. Did it have something to do with not knowing her father, or had something else happened? Regardless thereof, she felt so fortunate to be in good health and have such an intelligent, sweet friend and generous, loving mother. At least surely "God" must love her, if society found it also a challenge to do so 24 hours of the day in 7 days per week. Yes, she did feel "God" and the cosmos always did and would love and protect her no matter what.