There’s a crucial difference between writing general self reflection and writing an online diary post, to me. It’s in the concept of time. In an online diary post, I reflect the emotions I feel – still not in the peaceful state I want them to be in – to the way I experience time as I’m writing that exact post, by means of showing a(n alternative) contemporary life – it might be interesting to reflect back on it in 10 years and see how much life has changed, hopefully with D.O.C.I.S. International – and of preserving my long and short term memory.

Why 180 days, in the title? Because I have 180 days of diary posts, today.

I started this blog after I released the first episode of Nosce Te Ipsum I, in April. [This episode can now be read in The Unpublished Episodes of Nosce Te Ipsum I.] Then, I was still under relatively intense surveillance [it was worse before I started the blog] from the people from the psychiatric industry. “My parents” and them are convinced that I’m a schizophrenic.

It all started when in an answer to a question about my whereabouts, I said that doctor B.S.Y. Crutzen is a friend of mine, with whom I talk about my business plans. And that he is interested in working together with me, and that he will be my escape from my parents’ house.

How this led to me being falsely diagnosed with schizophrenia, is broken down in detail in The Unpublished Episodes of Nosce Te Ipsum I, in which I extensively describe why this is a limitation to my freedom in doing business and how, only if other people were to join me in my endeavor, I could bypass this. The book has no sales.

The dumbest part of their diagnosis, is that the research hospital has drawn its conclusion, of doctor Crutzen being only a voice in my head, without actually involving him in the research process. They should have invited me and him over to a session, and hear from him “That he doesn’t even know me”, because according to them, a drop out can’t be friends with a professor. They refused to involve him in the research process. I miss him 🙁 . They know that.

By clearly running away from them [four times…], I’ve been able to distance myself from them,  but not from the final legal say they have over me, due to their false diagnosis. This stressful absurdity resurfaces in my posts almost daily, because it has changed my view on life so much, in a negative way.

Because I want to emigrate to the United States, since I need to live somewhere, while my corporate state isn’t there yet [and I love the warm weather, the rate between available space and people [as an individual, you have much more space to live, there, for a lot less money, compared to the Netherlands] and the creative strategy of the Republican government… Plus, I’ve taught myself American English – while I’ve been taught British English by my grandmother and in school – and I consider the US the heart of global publicity, so since I want to go global, it really seems like the place to be, for me…], I want my files to show the truth about me.

The parties with authority over me and I are not on the same page. They’re the ones who are authorized to edit my medical record, but they have a completely different opinion about me. It’s a very negative one, I don’t agree with. They’re not open to let me revise it. They don’t even want to show me what they’ve exactly written down in it. All I’ve seen is a collection of summaries, of which the pessimistic view has shocked me. I think this has added to my post traumatic stress…

I’m not saying that I’m fully healthy, since I just mentioned the PTSS and from the white blood cells in the infection that is currently still visible in my urine, even after antibiotics from Germany, I might have a serious physical illness. [My Dutch physician finds me incompetent and because of that she refused to refer me to a hospital, so I was bound to searching for help abroad.] I’m just saying that the diagnosis schizophrenia is fucking bullshit.

The only other way for me to achieve this correction of my record – I consider it clearing my name – is if my supporters were to stand up for me. I find it very important that my files show the truth about me, because I want D.O.C.I.S. International to be a multinational business and work together with powerful individuals.

Simultaneously, I’m trying to get this business off the ground, be able to afford a home and pay back my study loan, but since no one is paying for my work – solely looking at what I publish for free – I’m forced to go back to working for a boss again [ :'( ], unless things were to finally change in my favor.

For those who just have tuned in to my life, the amount of text here might be quite intimidating, and that’s not my intention! So I hope that this article will make things clear for you.

I also hope it will lead to the shift I’m trying to cause. The shift in which I’m finally able to live a happy life and put my concept of a new, better and legal parallel system into practice. True sustainability is the most important aspect of that system. It’s parallel, because I believe an individual should be able to choose in what type of system he or she lives, instead of suddenly being forced to go to school and work and have loans, et cetera, in the end just to serve your basic needs. I did not sign up for that life…

The Diary’s Timeline 

April 17: This is the day I wrote my first diary post. I mentioned that after being done with working on the D.O.C.I.S. International website, I would have time to be blogging and not worry about anything else. I just released the very first episode of Nosce Te Ipsum I. But I mentioned that – not having to worry – because I expected my book to sell. It didn’t. This was before I unpublished the episode. Throughout my posts, you might notice how much this increases to eat at me. Another reason for frustration was that I was under surveillance – as in that I slept at my parents house [and from time to time I stayed with a grandmother for a week or so, when staying at my parents’room house drove me too crazy] and I had to see a “government therapist” every week, while I don’t agree with their diagnosis and treatment. On April 23 I had one of those mandatory sessions.

April 17 – April 24 were written in the Netherlands. At some point, I received a phone call about that I had to do another blood test to show that I was taking the antipsychotics. I thought it was a one time thing. I passed the first one by taking an overdose, but I didn’t want to do that again. Plus, my values must have been higher by then, so I wouldn’t pass it anyway. Even in the hospital, I wasn’t taking the medication for most of the time. I lied about it, which is why I got out at some point. But I risked getting a warrant for not taking the medicine, so my intention was to leave the country and seek for a solution. I didn’t take the blood test.

April 25 – April 27 were written in France. It was my first time “away from the psychiatric industry featuring my parents”, since April 2017! (April 2017, because that was when I came in touch with that industry for the first time…)

April 27 I was on my way back from France to the Netherlands. I, there,  wrote my diary update on paper, while I was in the train. The pictures of the text were taken in the plane to Surinam I was on, the next day. That’s why you see the scenery of an economy class plane – so the April 28 scenery – with the text I wrote on the 27th.

April 28 – May 19 were written on the way to, from and in Surinam, where I was on a holiday with my family. On May 6 the whole situation with them treating me “like I’m a schizophrenic” was frustrating me so much, that I decided to plan a one-way escape to the US. Another reason was the blood test I didn’t take. From that date onward, the plan developed itself. Here’s the video I was recording when I got the idea, in case you’re interested in watching it: [I don’t consider this a video of good quality. If I were to have a budget, my videos would be a lot better.]

In Surinam, I released some music, recorded in my bedroom there. The audio was recorded with my phone and I made the beat with the little MIDI keyboard I bought in Paris.

On the last night there, I met someone in a club. He was the first and only person who bought the very first episode of Nosce Te Ipsum I. I unpublished it in June, when I was applying for jobs, because I thought that it might cause the employer to refuse me as a potential employee.

May 20 – May 22 were written in the Netherlands. I had to travel back there first, because the ticket to Surinam was booked far in advance and I actually wasn’t allowed to travel to the US, because the parties with authority over me found it too far from home, and thus too dangerous “for a schizophrenic”. It was my intention to show that I don’t need their supervision – it drives me crazy – and an attempt to get Project Nosce Te Ipum off the ground, there. I hoped to be able to start a new life. [Very unfortunately, I didn’t succeed.]

May 23 – June 8 were written in the United States. Until May 26, I was in Baltimore. When I came there, all I had were my ESTA, a reservation for three nights at the Red Roof (more I couldn’t afford when I was secretly booking), my most valuable belongings and about €900 to spend until the end of June. The money was study financing, because I’m a student at The Open University in Milton Keynes. (It’s a university specialized in distance learning, so I’m free to travel, basically whenever I want to and can afford it.)

The emotional aspect of my departure – “my father” sent me such a cold hearted text message, when he found out that I left and my mother made me feel so guilty for leaving – made me want to be alone. It was my intention to promote my book and otherwise search for a job, but that and the financial stress kept me from engaging in social interactions, because I did not want to speak about my life, but it’s almost inevitable, when you meet someone new.

As my three day stay came to an end, I was certain that with my budget, I wasn’t going to be able to keep affording a roof above my head. I accepted the chance of ending up homeless and decided to try to give myself a good time, with the money I had. I decided to go to Miami, because last minute tickets to Los Angeles were too expensive, with the intention of being able to go to the beach. (It was my second time in Miami, but I still haven’t gone to the beach there.)

I chose to stay in hotels instead of hostels, because I carried a lot of emotionally valuable luggage with me – in my suitcase with a broken back wheel – and the sadness made me want to lay in bed, all alone, for most parts of the day. At some point, this caused me to not be able to afford a proper meal. One day, I was only able to eat a Burger King deal of $1.50 or something, for 10 spicy popcorn nuggets.

While I was going through all of this, I never blocked and/or deleted “my parents” on my phone, so they could still reach me. I ignored the hateful message of “my father”, but I couldn’t not respond to my mother’s sad text messages.

At some point, she offered to send me money, so that I had an alternative to being homeless. I refused it, in the beginning, because I can’t stand the way “my parents” always tell me that I cost them too much. By means of saving myself, within 24 hours, I wrote a second episode of Nosce Te Ipsum I and released it. Again, it had no sales at all. Here’s the explanation video I had made for it, within that same period of time: https://youtu.be/7jp2PYZRAG0 

I decided to go in to my mother’s financial offer. She asked me what I wanted. I told her a one way to California and one month of rent, for an apartment, with the intention of working as a Dutch translator somewhere there. She didn’t want to give me that. She extended my stay at Extended Stay for a night and bought me a one-way back to the Netherlands.

To make sure that those people from the psychiatric industry didn’t fully claim my agenda again, I started to look for a full-time job, even before I went back to the Netherlands. In my last hours in The States, I also made an appointment to officially register Fangs/D.O.C.I.S. International as an official sole proprietor business, even though I hadn’t sold anything yet. It was because I didn’t want to set aside my business endeavor, when I worked 40 hours a week, and end up being someone saying: “I had plans of starting my own business, but now we’re 30 years further and I still work here…”

I told my mother, I didn’t want to see “my father”, so at first, she booked us a hotel room in Utrecht from June 9 until June 11. There we were going to see “what feels right”, when it comes to staying somewhere, so if I was going to go home or do something else. She said that if I were to rent an apartment – social housing, for people with a lower income – that she would pay part of the first month of rent for me.

So after we stayed in Utrecht, because I wanted to be able to cook myself, she booked me the cheapest hotel-apartment available. It was in Bad Boekelo, in a resort. I was there from June 11 until something like June 23. I absolutely loved the short experience of having my own apartment. The area was amazing, too. Very quiet, with a lot of nature.

On June 14, I was invited to a house visitation. The social housing system works with a random selection by a computer. I was 6th on the list and “unfortunately”, someone who was higher on the list showed up at the visitation, too, and took the house. It felt like losing. I was so fed up by it, that I didn’t even go in to it on my blog. I hadn’t been invited to a house visitation ever since. Now, I’ve stopped trying, since I don’t even want to live in a social housing project. I want to live in California. And I actually have a very expensive taste….

In the rest of my time in that apartment, I worked on my assignments for The Open University and I was working on some free content for this blog. And an app for it, too, but when I started to work 40 hours a week, I ended up not making the app.

When I had to check out of the apartment, I moved in with one of my grandmothers. On June 25, I officially registered Fangs/D.O.C.I.S. International.

On June 26, I had a job interview at Young Capital, a recruitment agency, to see if I qualified for a job at the ANWB.

On June 28, I had a job interview at the ANWB itself. But somehow, I wasn’t able to find my public transportation card and I didn’t have money to buy a new one. It was still quite a while before the interview, so I decided to cycle from Rotterdam, Delfshaven to the ANWB headquarters in Den Haag. It was one hour and 24 minutes from door to door.

I called the recruiter to say that I was going to be a little later. My ETA was 8 minutes after the group interview was about to start, but my soft tyres and tripping phone compass made me be later. When I was 20 minutes away, I received a phone call from one of the co-recruiters, who asked if I could come the next day, because I had missed the introduction round.

My videos are rarely watched, so I’m not incentivized to upload them, but here’s some evidence of me cycling there. (The dress code was informal, so that’s why I was dressed like that.)

In one of the videos I say: “I’ll get the job, for sure.” And I got it 🙂

June 30, I worked at Concert at Sea for a day. My job was to sell bus tickets from the festival to the camping.

All geared up…

After working [from 7 the morning until like 7 in the evening] in the burning hot sun all day, I went to the coffeeshop near my grandmother’s house. I met someone there, who took me to a house party. When something happened there – I’m a total noob when it comes to illegal activities, so I didn’t get what was going on – and we all had to dash away, that person was holding my bag – I practice an intense form of trust – with my phone, my keys, my passport, my driver’s license, the author’s copy of the first episode of Nosce Te Ipsum I, which is now unpublished, the book of a friend of mine and the notebook I bought in France. I took so many things with me, because I considered running away again.

After dashing away and being without my phone and keys around midnight, I followed someone else who was at that party, to his home and stayed with him until my first day of work at the ANWB. It was a form of escaping things…

The vacancy I applied for, at the ANWB, was for processing holiday insurance claims related to transportation. The hotline side of it. It was a Summer function. I worked there from July 2 until September 2. It was quite stressful and a huge challenge for my temper. Nevertheless, I’ve been a very loyal employee. I’ve only missed one day of work and the amount of cases I’ve processed was far beyond the average.

Because of my occupation and work hours, I could go back to living with “my parents” without them complaining about that I don’t have a job and that I’m at home too much. I often worked on the weekends. The shift hours varied between 8 AM – 04:30 PM and 01:30 PM – 10 PM. The late shift was my favorite, because I had more time to sleep and it was easier for me to not get caught when I got high after work every day.

During my time there, I also had assignment deadlines from The Open University. My year started in January, so my break is from September until January. Not long after my contract ending at the ANWB, I had my final assessments of the curriculum. For Statistics, the assignments could be done at home. For Mathematics, I had to make an exam in a conference room at a hotel in The Hague on September 21. By means of being able to fully concentrate while studying, I checked in on the 20th and checked out on the 22nd. I passed Statistics with 58% and Mathematics with 70%.

In between then and now, a lot has happend. To summarize it all – because reflecting on this all makes me so sad, I prefer to keep it as short as possible – I’ve been kicked out a few times. Because the natural circumstances in the Netherlands cause fear with me, and I’m usually not allowed to travel long distances, I took this opportunity and went to Germany [which was what my budget allowed. Of course, I would have gone to California if I could], among other reasons.

I took that opportunity to continue the medical research, which I did on October 11, I believe. I’m bound to seeking medical assistance abroad, because my Dutch phycisian (P. Khajehi) solely believes that I’m mentally insane and thus does not take my medical complaints seriously.

In Germany, at some point my bag was stolen, in which were my bank cards, my passport, my external hard drives, my grey notebook, my earrings, my copy of Letters from a Stoic and other valuables. I was bound to going home, because working there became impossible. Now, I’m staying with family friends in Amsterdam.

On December 23, I got the idea to attempt to accomplish my endeavor via politics, instead of via independent business, because I don’t have a lot of money, and it could be accomplished faster via politics. This plan is now in development. You can follow the process in my online diary, as well as a lot of other things.

Because I aspire a career on the highest level humanly possible, I want my records to resemble the real me. Currently, that is not the case.

Here’s a quick impression of the current state of my medical record [but I my nationality is Dutch, so that’s unfortunately “what counts” in most of my life].

We weren’t done with all of the research yet. The Harnwegsinfection includes white blood cells and keeps returning, even after antibiotics.

They also gave me haldol, fluanxol, abilify, quetiapine, lorazepam and the list goes on

They did not follow the law. I find the existence of the psychiatric law something very scary. I didn’t know about its existence, until I was suddenly stuck in the middle of it.

I’m not dumb and vague. They’re just not able to understand my level of intelligence.

I don’t agree with any of the shit that is in my medical record, to this day. Except the findings from Germany, but that’s not in my Dutch medical record.

I haven’t said all I want to say, in this article, but what I want to say, has been mentioned in my online diary so very often already, I don’t want to put myself through it again. This article was finished Monday, December 24, 18:48.

Happy holidays ♥.

I’m pro international technocracy, by the way.