Escalus
Patron Meritorious
So two weeks after I send Zinj a little note saying I'm probably going to back off this a bit I find I've been posting more than before. So I am one great big hypocritical sumbitch, that's for sure.
A recent go around on another thread (which i really have to stop doing) introduced me to the idea that I think I never fully told my tale. But the thing is I really don't think my story "in" is anything as useful as my story "out". I've said before, there are stories here that trump mine all over.
If you wanted to know about that, though, the best thing to do would be to go to the orgs section and look up FCDC circa 1970. The latter half of that thread is OWNED by my fellow 75ers. or thereabouts.
I left FCDC (The one on S street) in the middle of December. I had a jacket and a small bag of things but left absolutely everything else in the room at the Braden Arms. It was spooky. I'd decided two days before that I'd had enough of this. Doing Scientology back at Urbana was fun. We had F-U-N. I was determined to have fun at DC as well, and pretty much managed to do that - for the most part - until the 'tough guys" came in.
Bill Franks was kind of a poser, and after a while he wasn't scary at all. But he was demanding and unreasonable, like you're supposed to be; but all in all I never had a problem with him. I think my biggest nemesis was the LRH Comm Sandy Wilhere. God bless her now as she's going through lots of problems i hear but - jesus my bloody fucking God - I hated that woman. She would always go WAY beyond the tech with me and I had no idea why. But I can't use her as an excuse because I'm the reason I blew.
Now that I've been able to piece the story together it was Larry Master(s?) who had just come back as a brand new shiny OT-whatever and not a week or two after he returned something was wrong. I've told the story about how Debbie (his martinet redhead wife from Qual) and - I'm pretty sure Jay Armstrong (anyway an EO) were all over him one day because he was either
A. Sick and could not figure out how that could happen being OT
B. Convinced the whole thing was shit and then worried about why he might think the whole thing was shit
C. Just wanted to leave staff and get a real life and couldn't figure out why he felt guilty about what he really wanted
or
D. All of the above - or some of the above or
E. Nothing like that, he was all fucked up for another reason I have no idea about.
Anyway that caught my eye, but it really just underlined what I'd been (gasp) "thinking" about on my own volition. Touch assists that weren't working, an infection in my foot that wasn't healing and I couldn't get (let alone afford) medicine for, being constantly starving my ass off every day day after day and either living off the 'food machine" next to the letter reg office (eating bad chili or wet sandwiches) and one week I lived on nothing but bread and jam - and when the bread went green I threw the green part out and kept eating. I was several months behind on my rent and the big old guy at the Braden was trying to be nice about it.
I'm questioning what the hell the C/S is thinking on the routes we are taking in my auditing and the only thing I seemed to be able to excel at was I kept getting fully hatted for everything you could think of. All my big wins were admin.
Constant headaches, eternally hungry, working 7 days a week.
One time way way upstairs i saw the tape machines the GO used to tape all the calls - by accident. I found some PC folders in an obscure closet down in the catacombs and told somebody and twenty minutes later people I never seen before were swooping down from the GO and whisking them away.
I was feeling like i was in the middle of a bad version of some dystopian morality play. I couldn't shake the foreboding and the sense that something was altogether wrong. The F-U-N was G-O-N-E.
I'd seen people try to route off before. As part of HCO I was sent to "retrieve" blows and sometimes we weren't nice about it. I knew what went on because as DirPer I had access to all kinds of infighting and garbage that was going on while trying to keep my Tech/Admin ratio constantly perfect (there - if that doesn't tell you about my admin training nothing will). Knowing what I knew and seeing what I saw I knew that the only way to get out was quick and surgical. Nobody must know and I would have to be willing to leave a substantial part of my personal stuff behind and probably never see it again.
I waited for people to come back in from the dinner break, grabbed a clipboard and walked out the front door. Down two buildings to where my room was, I changed my clothes, put whatever I could fit in a small bag, counted my money (8 bucks and change) and sneaked - literally sneaked - down a back stair way to a back exit into the alley behind S street and just kept going north by west. North by west.
It was December and I was starving and had no money and it was very dark and windy but I hitchhiked from DC to Chicago completely unseen, sleeping one night on the side of the road (I discovered later I was sleeping on an ant hill or something because I woke up infested), getting picked up by a skinny hillbilly in a van who kept hinting about boys doing boys and another ride from a truly scary dude with all his belongings in the back of his car who -after he dropped me off - doubled back and tried to pick me up again. I'm pretty sure he was the type to kill people for fun, so I smiled and waved and lit out of there.
All for now. Success follows out sojourner after some dips and dipshits.
A recent go around on another thread (which i really have to stop doing) introduced me to the idea that I think I never fully told my tale. But the thing is I really don't think my story "in" is anything as useful as my story "out". I've said before, there are stories here that trump mine all over.
If you wanted to know about that, though, the best thing to do would be to go to the orgs section and look up FCDC circa 1970. The latter half of that thread is OWNED by my fellow 75ers. or thereabouts.
I left FCDC (The one on S street) in the middle of December. I had a jacket and a small bag of things but left absolutely everything else in the room at the Braden Arms. It was spooky. I'd decided two days before that I'd had enough of this. Doing Scientology back at Urbana was fun. We had F-U-N. I was determined to have fun at DC as well, and pretty much managed to do that - for the most part - until the 'tough guys" came in.
Bill Franks was kind of a poser, and after a while he wasn't scary at all. But he was demanding and unreasonable, like you're supposed to be; but all in all I never had a problem with him. I think my biggest nemesis was the LRH Comm Sandy Wilhere. God bless her now as she's going through lots of problems i hear but - jesus my bloody fucking God - I hated that woman. She would always go WAY beyond the tech with me and I had no idea why. But I can't use her as an excuse because I'm the reason I blew.
Now that I've been able to piece the story together it was Larry Master(s?) who had just come back as a brand new shiny OT-whatever and not a week or two after he returned something was wrong. I've told the story about how Debbie (his martinet redhead wife from Qual) and - I'm pretty sure Jay Armstrong (anyway an EO) were all over him one day because he was either
A. Sick and could not figure out how that could happen being OT
B. Convinced the whole thing was shit and then worried about why he might think the whole thing was shit
C. Just wanted to leave staff and get a real life and couldn't figure out why he felt guilty about what he really wanted
or
D. All of the above - or some of the above or
E. Nothing like that, he was all fucked up for another reason I have no idea about.
Anyway that caught my eye, but it really just underlined what I'd been (gasp) "thinking" about on my own volition. Touch assists that weren't working, an infection in my foot that wasn't healing and I couldn't get (let alone afford) medicine for, being constantly starving my ass off every day day after day and either living off the 'food machine" next to the letter reg office (eating bad chili or wet sandwiches) and one week I lived on nothing but bread and jam - and when the bread went green I threw the green part out and kept eating. I was several months behind on my rent and the big old guy at the Braden was trying to be nice about it.
I'm questioning what the hell the C/S is thinking on the routes we are taking in my auditing and the only thing I seemed to be able to excel at was I kept getting fully hatted for everything you could think of. All my big wins were admin.
Constant headaches, eternally hungry, working 7 days a week.
One time way way upstairs i saw the tape machines the GO used to tape all the calls - by accident. I found some PC folders in an obscure closet down in the catacombs and told somebody and twenty minutes later people I never seen before were swooping down from the GO and whisking them away.
I was feeling like i was in the middle of a bad version of some dystopian morality play. I couldn't shake the foreboding and the sense that something was altogether wrong. The F-U-N was G-O-N-E.
I'd seen people try to route off before. As part of HCO I was sent to "retrieve" blows and sometimes we weren't nice about it. I knew what went on because as DirPer I had access to all kinds of infighting and garbage that was going on while trying to keep my Tech/Admin ratio constantly perfect (there - if that doesn't tell you about my admin training nothing will). Knowing what I knew and seeing what I saw I knew that the only way to get out was quick and surgical. Nobody must know and I would have to be willing to leave a substantial part of my personal stuff behind and probably never see it again.
I waited for people to come back in from the dinner break, grabbed a clipboard and walked out the front door. Down two buildings to where my room was, I changed my clothes, put whatever I could fit in a small bag, counted my money (8 bucks and change) and sneaked - literally sneaked - down a back stair way to a back exit into the alley behind S street and just kept going north by west. North by west.
It was December and I was starving and had no money and it was very dark and windy but I hitchhiked from DC to Chicago completely unseen, sleeping one night on the side of the road (I discovered later I was sleeping on an ant hill or something because I woke up infested), getting picked up by a skinny hillbilly in a van who kept hinting about boys doing boys and another ride from a truly scary dude with all his belongings in the back of his car who -after he dropped me off - doubled back and tried to pick me up again. I'm pretty sure he was the type to kill people for fun, so I smiled and waved and lit out of there.
All for now. Success follows out sojourner after some dips and dipshits.