(An abstract more points out the interesting problem that one plans to pursue – keeping it in the realm of ideas – and not an in depth exploration, analysis, or presentation of a solution)
Data exhaustion
Too many data points make forming relevant information more difficult and thus knowledge of the subject never develops.
They are overwhelming us in a pursuit to make an educated decisions as well as lead to burn out, Data exhaustion.
We can’t learn anything like this. Why should we bury students with findings without a way to sort them?
We have developed AI and other digital tools to help us analyze the details we are swimming in. But they’re not enough to reduce work and in many cases are increasing it.
Remember, information is the result of reasonable interpretation of relevant data. It should not be full of lies, but both can be used to mislead.
Data points can be found or created to support misleading or false information. A dangerous mix. And while forming knowledge is indeed creative it should not be fictitious!
Our abilities to create, form knowledge, and think in the abstract world sets us apart from animals and AI alike. But we need to find a better way to interpret our world now.
Too much data is causing burn out in every field from customer service to the intelligence services! We are working with mathematics more than psychology and I think we need to do both.
My interest is in developing both the interactive and mathematical means to describe and access Data Patterns – which involves forming a better mathematical structure underneath the way I view the world – maybe relearning the notation.
Such mathematics doesn’t get used in a vacuum however, so really I want to make my theories applicable and accessible to others. So I need to focus on the core subjects of cognitive science, mathematics, artificial intelligence, usability, communication, and psychology. With an emphasis on how we gain and use data.
If I can study how to sort the data, and how to access the data. Maybe I can help develop better ways of doing both.
So after I poke my foot back in college at all (it’s been a long time) I hope to pursue at least a masters in communication as the broadest and most flexible of all of these. But I certainly need to work with the rest! And persuade my advisor that mathematics is a language.
Perhaps I can go on to gain a PhD in Human Computer Interaction. We’ll see if I need to. The answer is probably. But I’d like that masters to be in sight before making plans.
I had sat in my front lawn – all of it was real, or none of it. I was swirling in a world that made no sense and the truth was, some of it was. But not any parts made publicly available.
So much of the torment, the theft, the threats of disfigurement, gaslighting, hacking and harassment have been:
“Hehe haha funny.”
Or
“I’m scared of you because you’re crazy.”
Or
“You don’t deserve to be the writer of those books.”
I don’t? Because I’m mentally ill? Or because I’ve been psychologically tortured by your lies and stories into appearances of a beast.
Ones some believe.
You twist and turn with gaslighting and then laugh at what you eventually persuade me to believe.
“Come back to reality.”
Love to. Would you maybe leave me the fuck alone so I could?
The sex traffickers? The terrorist would be? The jilted lover? All woven into my understanding by real fucking torture?
The reasons seem to be pettier than the tales you’ve persuaded me to believe. No wonder you would rather I think you’re hunting the NSA – but are too stupid to recognize I’m not involved in intelligence services.
Rather that than own up to what you’ve become to make me appear the bitch.
“You don’t deserve your cat. She’s too pretty and special. So we’re going to lie about her and take her.”
Who else needs a therapy cat but one who has PTSD, or other mental illnesses?
“You don’t deserve to be so pretty.”
So you what? Make me appear ugly on the inside so I’m not competition?
What is this American idea of “deserve”. Like you’re the god of everything. Americans can do better and used to. What happened to you so that you fear me?
Americans are supposed to be brave and bold. Not sly and nasty.
“You’re so crazy, no man would want you”
Ah. There’s the problem you jealous bitches.
I guess all attempts to care for my appearance are a problem in that regard. Better make me too afraid to go to the dentist! Then I can warp into what you want.
I’m tired of your abuse controlling what the world thinks of me – particularly when you’re the problem.
You claw at every success because in your eyes it’s you or me.
And you make me into a monster so others agree..
I don’t think I can live with what you’ve done to me.
Now I’m the paranoid person who never leaves her room and occasionally bursts at the torment.
You torture and torment me into a reaction out of fear of my mere existence. Then when I seem to be what you said you were afraid of? You point the finger.
“She’s the problem. I’m oh so scared of her”
Leave me alone!
I just would like to go back to quietly being the village sweetheart if you are quite done?
But I return to me and it exposes your cruelty and lies, the problem is you. No one can endure what you’ve done.
No one.
Leave me alone!
You take this personally and think it directed at you?
Look in the fucking mirror because I don’t even know what you look like, let alone your name. You think it’s about you? Then I guess it is.
I hope reckoning come to you one day.
Leave me alone!
Personally I’d rather die than turn into the beast you want me to be. Your constant needling and prodding at wounds to create a monster on a leash?
I would rather kill myself.
“See she is suicidal”
Only if you have so little self control you can not leave my mere existence to be.
Reliving a version of what happened in 2023 made me think I was in September. Any year would do. I called February October.
Which helped me understand my current situation better.
It makes sense the past is haunting me. And I have a shared reputation from a fucking bitch.
“Snap back to reality.”
It’s not helpful to say that to someone who feels the incidents of past trauma are again happening. It seemed like a way to gaslight me. Besides no one “snaps back” to anything.
“When I snap my fingers…”
Fuck off stop tormenting the mentally ill you fucking bitch. That’s not how healing works.
I am connecting dots. My PTSD has been so bad I was indeed part of the problem here. I’m didn’t believe anyone. They were unpleasant about their comments and I thought it harrasment.
My response would seem like I wasn’t telling the truth. I can see, that because I didn’t trust anyone, I was loud and experienced fugue. Particularly loud for me would seem like yelling. So I became frustrated and felt lied about. Because my yell would shake the building and I knew I hadn’t done that!
The thing about fugue is you don’t necessarily remember it ever even occurring and if everyone is an asshole to you, there’s no way you trust that part is happening.
“Breakthrough”
From what? Could the assholes have maybe been more specific to help me recognize when a fugue had started?
I have been disruptive during that time. But this is so new I thought I was being picked on and lied about.
I’m either sleeping through the day or awake for up to 72 hours and I am being driven mad. But I tried to overdose on the only real effective PTSD medication and I can’t get my psyche to try it again – as I’m certain my body will treat it as poison now.
I need to find a therapist who won’t ask why I feel a certain way – what made the trigger possible. just what I can do about it when abusive bitches use reactive abuse and send me into a PTSD spiral.
They snipe
“You’re not the real Sylvanna”.
Yes I am – well that is actually a name I used in a book. And the Torture Victim of the other one. But I don’t go by “the real” Sylvanna. The asshole does.
“Give it up Melissa – no one likes you, maybe you should kill yourself.”
Be careful. One day those could be the last one hears before they do.
Besides, I would be well liked if it weren’t for gossip and baiting like yours.
“Reactive abuse [like I’m doing right now] isn’t real”
Oh yeah? You are either lying or have your head in different sand.
They gossip and spread lies – and in part because some bitch out there took my names, my past, my work, my identity to dress herself in. My previously good reputation was useful to hide behind, I guess. Now we share one but I’m so hacked I don’t know the fuck she’s done – using my name.
People thought there was a split personality she’s so good at the con.
I was the village sweetheart, now I’m considered the wicked witch of the west and pushed into snapping so they don’t have to take responsibility for the seesaw
“See called me a bitch.”
Yes I did. I would like to go back to sweet Fae if you’re fucking done?
“Grow a thicker skin”
Yeah…. Not very easy when the slightest snipe spirals me into PTSD. You could shut up and not prod the wounded dragon.
The combination of Bipolar and PTSD is nasty – my reaction to what I experience has been intense and I’m experiencing periods when I can control my temper but not how loud I get. And the fury of my words.
I’m used to being well received and never a problem. I just didn’t believe I could be disruptive. The fugue state sends me spiraling then every asshole laughs at how crazy I am
You fucking abusive bitches.
And it’s usually women.
People have tried to hide behind my previously good reputation. I have to somehow deal with being confused about reactions to other people when I’ve been home alone off social media.
Combined I understand what happens to “the crazy person down the hall”. You can not let her alone and get upset she doesn’t respond well to your abuse.
“See she is the problem.”
On behalf of all people suffering with either schizophrenia, schizo-affective disorder, PTSD, or a combination?
“Fuck you. You’re the problem.”
I’d like to be left alone now. I’d like to lick my wounds and study academic pursuits and get into top bellydancing shape again.
But no. Somehow my mere presence is a fucking affront.
Most women in my building aren’t like that, but enough to be a problem and think history is repeating itself.
“All I said was….”
Yeah but cumulative abuse is real you gaggle of assholes. Combined it leaves me so vulnerable I’m crushed in one “strike”.
This is not fun and games you fucking gaslighting bitches. You prod me I’m going to call you names. Okay?
We could, I don’t know, not attack the vulnerable person and she could go back to being sweet and quiet. As she would be without your bullshit.
No one believes the me I was, and would like to be is real, because they’re twisting me up. Just back off.
This is viscous and an almost worse than torture. I don’t feel safe here because they’re the kind of bitches to attack the strange and vulnerable – then point the finger.
My PTSD is off the hook thanks to them. But while I’ll take responsibility for my response the bitches won’t for being the trigger.
Simple minded approach I guess.
Nothing happens in a vacuum here.
Word got back to me they don’t know the history of the past phrases – just that they hurt me.
Well. That’s better I suppose.
Still ever so charming.
I have things I’d like to do. Maybe they could shut up so we could all shut up.
Can’t can, said and so forth. We lost and gained marbles but can’t afford to hang onto them in the way we have so far.
(Some of who are a little more far gone)
Listening to barbs, baiting, and biting bitches all fucking day is no fun for the USA.
But this is where we are – I’m having trouble too. They’re winning. They know it. But it’s never enough. No matter what the sky is green and step in line!
Oh fuck off.
Nope blowing up isn’t helping, dodging isn’t helping, waiting for them to wipe out is apparently abusive.
She’s listening but I seem to be the only one (I hope) who has to just wait out saying anything back!
Who’s this, and everyone now knows what I’m tempted to say. But we can’t let our brains melt out too!
Sleep would help. But they would lose.
Thanks gee, there’s no patience and tolerance for me – they try to get me to rhyme in my sleep!
Last time I can point that out.
Do not follow this path left presented more than 20 minutes without at least a 1 minute break of equivalent attention requirement.
72 hours of sleep dep takes at least two weeks to recover from, another 72 to at least be safe around machinery, but only eight (ish) to at least come back to reality!
Our brains are vulnerable under sleep dep.
Take omega 3 (6 too if you can), chewable zinc (the pills upset the stomach) and the fastest source of glucose you can take.
After some time easing, the right salt, fat, sugars combination (Short bread as one example) will give you a dopamine affect that is safer than any benzo or narcotic will ever be. But is (like benedryl) to be treated with caution when vulnerable.
Our environments are so noisy anything could go wrong in your head and get stuck or crinkled up.
So please, I implore you.
Rest, if you can’t sleep
Pray or meditate if you can under such circumstances they both work.
Rest enough if you can.
No heavy machinery- particularly cars until at least 8 hours but 72 would be preferable.
No stimulants unless you have ADHD and they are calming.
As for blowing off steam and the feeling that just maybe death will be better than brainless words from thoughtless people.
You need to. You do. But just a little to avoid winding yourself up in the process.
Trying to let them wipe out on you and counting the insults will at least keep your brain going while playing soduku.
.
Creative Commons copyright, no remix. No other restrictions. Please don’t try to restrict others because copyright doesn’t work that way. I get to do this, so there!
I am struggling with severe and ever worsening PTSD. My nightmares are roaring darkness at me ever more so. Even in sleep there’s no escape.
I start to emerge from sleep and the first thing I hear is how evidence has been falsified and publicly posted.
“Good luck getting into the University of Washington now”
I want to write and swear and ask the gods if she’s fucking illiterate and incapable of grasping the idea of an academically inclined mind.
Everything, the gaslighting, the weekly change to the story and motivations is now down to
I did have terrorists on my arse.
I did have a hacker shit on my digital life.
I have been put in a virtual prison of misinformation and a google bubble that won’t break.
I did have someone want to use my writing for a cult.
I did have someone steal my identity and try to take my work.
Someone does want to stop me from releasing Game Over
And someone does want to sell me into sexual slavery or at least turn me into a whore.
Every way to use someone like a street hustler getting you to dig for change for everything valuable in my life till I’m a husk.
Oh I forgot
Someone does want to steal everything old of mine.
And someone does want to steal my cat – apparently already paid for even though she’s not hers to sell.
And it’s either all those or some mean girls crap but that seems just swirled in as a method of control.
I can’t take another 10 minutes more. I’d rather die than be treated like a fucking mine for goods and trying to force me into services
I want to fucking die.
I spit back at normal volume?
“Be quiet, keep your voice down”
I whisper my frustrations?
“Be quiet, keep your voice down.”
Fuck you all.
I return to kindness and compassion. To academic goals and ways to improve lives. And that’s ripped into. Because I won’t spread my legs for the bitch.
I said this morning I didn’t think I could try anymore. She wants me suffering in filth? A bed that needs to be changed? Dirty clothes, dirty body, garbage piling including biological waste. No clean teeth, drying skin, no more plans for life? Fine she could have that but not me.
I couldn’t climb up the ladder to be washed down again:
I was gently persuaded to take care of my moisture needs and teeth, take the two trips necessary to deal with garbage, sort my laundry. My clothes and bed were next. I could skip everything and just shampoo cap my hair again. Maybe tomorrow I could vacuum. But for now just Garbage out and Laundry sorted
He was guiding me through, step by step, to recovery. I could do this just one more time.
I did every step and fell asleep trying to recover enough to do more. And I am but waking and some bitch is clawing into me.
I want to fucking die.
No one is stopping her so I want to stop my heart. It’s happened before and I could skip out on being saved this time.
There’s my cat – she’s trying to steal
My family – relationships only just being repaired after her fuckery
Most of my friends wouldn’t listen that some divisive bitch was ruining my life and she successfully alienated them.
Those relationships I had to just walk away from.
I had still dealings with those who said there was no stalker, or that I was stalking myself. Those who didn’t stop to listen and didn’t believe a thing.
Fine.
Whatever.
You’re either blind or an asshole. Maybe both.
But whatever.
Things seemed to ease but because I can barely make my bed. I get better the bitch is back. And I am out permanently before becoming a whore.
My brain is being dented by this bitch because she doesn’t value intelligence – only what she can force or steal.
So her little coterie has to snipe on the way past.
Sylvanna Devlin 