Foreign Trade

About a week ago I sold some shoes on Ebay to a very kind fellow in Norway. Aside from it being my first transaction on the site, it wasn't the easiest because shipping to other countries comes with all kinds of rules that are specific to each nation's customs' policy. In Norway, if the package is marked a gift and valued around $60, customs can charge up to $145 in taxes and fees (of course that would be converted to the Krone). That's just a general price range, but taxes can get pretty high if you don't know the little tricks to getting around them (such as keeping the price value low on the package). What really caught my interest, however, were the importation regulations (what a cool phrase!) found on the USPS website. It's pretty much a given that firearms, alcohol, etc etc are going to pop up on nearly every country's list, but I found it strange that, in Norway, they listed these as prohibited:

Importation of radio and telecommunications equipment (equipment like radio remote controls or other wireless systems including walkie-talkies, remote controls, and wireless telephones) is prohibited without the authorization of the Norwegian Telecommunication Regulatory Authority, Olso. Ordinary TV and radio receivers are exempt from the regulation. Any imported dutiable equipment must be reported to the Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation by the importer.

Ugh, I'm still getting used to blogger again, so I can't figure out how to reformat this into a regular post and not a "quote." Looks like the rest of this post will be indented. Things like this really get under my skin, but moving on...

SO, not to sound as tweaked out as this lady (god, I love her...), but what up Norway? What do you know that I don't? Because I'd really like to swap notes...

Most people are already aware of China's strict monitoring of social media, blocking sites such as Twitter and Facebook in an attempt to mold public discourse, discouraging the likes of cyber bulling to cyber warfare. Last year, according to the New York Times, China implemented another regulation on micro-blogging: users had to use their real names and actual biographical information so the government could keep a veerrrry watchful eye amongst who was saying what. The government claimed that this was only to follow trends in public opinion, but couldn't that still be done if the users remained anonymous, anyway? I mean, I get paranoid enough using my real name on the internet and I'm under a pretty damn liberal jurisdiction. My irrational fear is that Red China will track me down and hide me in some prison cell just for this sardonic post. Eek.

This was a bit of a tangent, but as far as radio equipment in Norway is concerned, all I really could find was a post that discussed Norway's aid to Sri Lankan gorilla groups in broadcasting underground militant radio. Again, just another highlighted incident of information being treated like smuggled cocaine.

Volume Patrol

OK...let's try this again. The first time I started this post I got logged out. Adds to the hysteria.

I'm still gonna say what I was gonna say.

Sound systems are funny these days because I guess most people have gotten over feeling self-conscious about how they look and more iffy about how they sound with what they say. Do you know how many online job interviews I've had over the phone? If you don't know what I'm talking about, that probably just sounds weird because it is, but MAN. Talk about the ole "was it something I said?" because when it's finally your turn to speak and you literally say maybe two words before getting disconnected (yeah yeah...should have been using that landline...), it feels freaking terrible.

I don't know what it is, but the minute someone hears fear in your words (look, I have my own hangups when it comes to the letter S so fear is inevitable when I speak :/), they do the whole "ehh..." thing like all of a sudden it's ok to be 100% honest about how something made you feel. Seriously, if I'm the only one who notices this "total realness" in people, then I really am the most hypersensitive person on the planet.

Anyway, the point of this post was inspired by that trip to the loony bin (said with full adoration, seriously) where a friend I had met there showed me how to change the volume on the telephone. Here's the great part though: the up/down controller was unmarked and looked like a regular button that you'd simply press in--not one that could ever-so-gently be tapped on each side to either make the volume increase or decrease. So of course I'm all like, "Alright...this is a spy phone."

I mean, what the hey? I've seen volume controls on phones before, but they're CLEARLY marked. Ya know, because it's not a big deal and all...

Right?

I don't know. Personally, I think Air Mall's "MegaEar Spy Recorder" was put into too many stockings last year and phone interception is simply like pulling out binoculars and spying on your neighbor taking a shower. Everyone does it, so whatever.

I remember when our landline started fudging up and we'd get crystal clear reception of conversations going on in all the other houses around us. It wasn't as good as it sounded though, no pun intended. Phone conversation, in general, tends to suck no matter what...even when it's contra banded...sorta.

ANYWAY ANYWAY...sound systems. They control all kinds of things like pitch and balance, ya know? My friend Jimmy and I were talking on Skype a long time ago and the whole time he was talking, I was messing with the volume settings on my computer. Little did he know that I was making his voice go from being the guy from the Green Mile to Mickey Mouse. That, of course, is child's play. The real fear I have at the moment is having the ability to take someone's voice and, oh, I don't know, balancing it directly into the right ear where the left side of the brain--the logical, rational, unforgiving side--is directly connected and, by nature, predisposed to discern fact from make-believe. So, say you have a mortal enemy who knows this. Say they really wanna screw up your life. What could they do? I guess just walk on up to the right side of your head and whisper a bunch of nonsense that you're left brain is viciously trying to make sense of. I mean, this was your FRIEND!!?!?! Lol.

Voice hypnotics are the new terrorism, but you didn't hear it from me. I'm just bitter about every guy who ever seduced me with his words. I like one-liners, JEEZ. And no brainers. Definitely no brainers.

This Isn't the Beginning

...and I say that because I know how I am. I'll set out to create a unified project--in this case, a collection of somewhat linear accounts of bizarre-O happenings that have been, well, happening in my life--and I'll completely flub up somewhere, getting myself confused. Therefore, I'm sure many stories will become cross-referenced and re-introduced a million times. I'm not losing my mind.

And on THAT note...

The posts in this blog take place almost exactly three months after I was discharged from the loony bin. I remember how I got there...relationship drama that went on long enough for me to develop a paranoia for the world at large. Hanging out with friends got a little weird and I had it in my head that they all knew something I didn't. This inevitably led to my mismatching stories from multiple conversations which then became an epic mission of mine to figure out the secret meaning of what was buzzing all around me. You'd think relationship drama would lead to some other kind of dramatic reaction, but maybe all of this seemed more tolerable. But it wasn't.

The night before I was taken to the hospital, I was hanging out with my best friend who had just returned to the States from living abroad. Mind you, she had been overseas for a year, teaching English and making money, while I was at home racking up all kinds of misdemeanors and finding myself in very unappealing situations (to my surprise, they'd get even worse AFTER leaving the hospital...), but that comes later.

Anyway, we drove to the gas station to get cigarettes and I was just having one of the most God-forsaken panic attacks of all time. Airplanes were actually missiles that were planning to air-raid my house. Could I tell this to my friend? No. If I did I'd put the burden on her to help me escape...and besides, she wouldn't want to anyway...she was inside buying a pack of cigs so I could have my last one; I just knew it. Plus, she kept saying over and over again how she "missed my voice" which clearly meant two things: one, I wasn't speaking in the correct tone of subliminal militant brainwashing that the entire world had become conditioned to speak in...and two, shame on me. Time for death.

I guess Sarah was just a reminder that I really hadn't been doing shit with my life, but man I was gonna do everything in my power to not come to terms with such a boring theory. However, this blog isn't called "Conspiracy Inquiry" for nothing, so before you assume I was just a psychotic nut, not all of this was stuff I had seen on tv. In fact, that's what made all these odd "realities" even scarier, the fact that nobody seemed to understand or want to believe where I was coming from. In a lot of ways, I had pretty reasonable explanations for all my beliefs. I was probably dropped LSD and had no idea. No, but seriously.

And those guys at the bar...jeez...with the crazy eyes who kept pushing their way into my personal bubble just to maniacally tease me with "OH YEAH...It's happening..." well, they did NOTHING for my nerves because they didn't need to say anymore; I knew exactly what they were talking about: a pseudo-Rapture was being created by the Catholic Church in preparation for December 21, 2012...the supposed REAL one if you're into that stuff...and the chosen "good people" would be put on an airplane and sent around the world to spread the glory of Rock and Roll, while us "good for nothings" would be buried alive by the self-proclaimed Devil worshipers. More importantly, they meant that at this very moment, people were being murdered...people that I could have had the chance to protect, but never did. War was breaking out and I wasn't a valued fighter because I refused to dance the demon dance.

But again, just wait until I actually start from the beginning.