My Dear Maritza

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Ahhhh, you don’t know Maritza.

Well, Maritza is my car, my one and only first car. Bought with my hard-earned money from endless night shifts—12 hours a day, 70 hours a week—working as an RN in IS. Money earned while raising a child who often grew up without her mom, with nannies taking care of her while I worked.

The same money that bought my shoes, my books, my kid’s toys, my socks, my clothes—every single little piece in my home. Hard-worked RN money.

Yes, yes, those things that socialist gangs protect in socialist places while they steal from others. But enough about this socialist, dirty, corrupt mess that never seems to end.

Let’s talk about Maritza.

Dear Maritza,

I am a good RN. A very damned good one. Good enough that speaking out disturbed too many dirty games. Very dirty games.

And I’ve never been a car technician, but maybe I’m a kind of registered nurse for cars. So trust me—I can save you.

I don’t know how long it will take, but together, like always, we will make you better.

At my first assessment, YOU WERE RAPED.

And neglected.

And too many haters destroyed you.

I saw your scars on your trunk, made by the Filipino care aide married to the Bosnian man in the underground parking at the university facility.

Then I knew that this country and its crazy people hated you the same way they hated me.

Sorry for not listening to you then.

Back then, it was time to leave this hell, but who knew what Socialist Hell was really about?

Every single piece that I touched today while assessing you told me your story of pain and sorrow—a raped and trapped car.

Do you remember 2020, when I told him he was amazing and deserved to apply to the CIA?

He was CIA.

What about all the people you met? The people you helped? The kids? The old ones who are no longer with us? The evil ones and the angels?

I touched the steering wheel where I once rested my head after working 16 hours straight without stopping.

I need to change it.

You will have a new one, better suited for a Reina like you.

The seat belts need changing too.

“Seat belts on.”

So many memories.

My American granny never wanted to wear her seat belt, and we always laughed that if the police stopped me, she would pay the ticket because she was stubborn.

She was stubborn, free, and independent.

Do you remember when the Filipino caregiver at that crazy house, with so many dead people, violated your doors while management fired me?

Stupid socialists and their dirty games.

I cried with you when my mom died.

There was no one else to cry with.

You witnessed all the best people and all the worst people.

And for that reason, the dirty socialists tapped you.

So they would know where I was and who I met.

You were the only place where I felt safe until I arrived in Socialist Hell.

Then neither you nor I were ever safe again.

But I will save you.

I will repair you.

You can talk to me.

I am a good therapist nurse.

I know who hurt you.

We can’t touch them, Maritza.

They are too high, too dirty, and too powerful.

No one can touch them or give you back the years they stole from you.

But I will help you.

Because I am a good nurse.

And with AI, I will become a good auto technician too.

And a lot of people love you, Maritza.

Remember them?

I ordered my first automotive stethoscope and a wrench for your rusty bolts.

My knee and leg hurt, and I couldn’t bend down properly to assess you.

But I can do it this way.

You will have the most beautiful new carpet.

Just wait and see, Maritza.

🤗

What color do you want?

I thought maybe green, with flowers, like Mom used to tell me.

“When something is wrong, imagine a field full of flowers.”

And I will paint you, Maritza.

The gang violated you.

And you know what our peaceful revenge could be?

In their land of crimes, we organize a public event.

Everyone who survived a rape, or knows someone who survived a rape, comes and paints a flower on your body.

On THEIR land of crimes and dirty games.

You will be covered in flowers.

You will bloom.

I will save you, Maritza.

I don’t know how long it will take, but I promise I will save you from all of it.

You must trust me.

And I will publish your story for all organized crime networks, gangs, and corrupt associates to hear.

So they know:

NO IS NO.

NO RAPE.

And even after everything…

We are still here.

And we are still fighting.

Together.

REAL Against The Madness

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How do you teach someone to live when they don’t even know how to live unless they become delusional?

Life is REAL. Simple, clear, and REAL.
No dirty games. No mental games. No wicked games.

This is REAL.

And wherever you go, and with whomever you speak, it is the same: bad or good people, they LIVE REAL.

Bad boys are bad boys. Good boys are good boys.

Anything else in between becomes either craziness or shady undercover intel games, because that is their modus operandi.

And this intel craziness spread everywhere. Even bad boys adopted it. Like nobody stays real anymore, and everyone became crazier and crazier because these dirty games and delusions somehow make them look more “interesting.”

I refuse to live my life based on THEIR delusional rules.

You want to map my roads and target me like the last cuckoo CIA-style people did? DO IT, por favor.

I will keep going to the places I love.
I will keep joking and laughing with people I feel comfortable with.
I will keep going to coffee shops.
I will keep enjoying shady massage salons with shady women workers — BECAUSE I LIKE IT.

Capisci?

I like my life.
My genuine life.

The life that YOU and YOU and YOU, with all your craziness, tried to mess up.

And I will speak about it too:
about the amazing people I met who became friends,
about the scary and controversial people who also became friends,
about all the “spies” and dirty intel people whose methods I deeply dislike, because they do collateral damage and do not care about the people they destroy.

They may call it meaningful work.
Destroying people is not meaningful.

I will live my life because YOUR craziness is not life, and I refuse to make it part of mine.

Target me.
Monitor me.
Map my coffee shops, my bills, my clothes, my food, my house, my trips, my people.

I will keep doing all of it anyway.

But to YOU — the ones who messed with me — whether you are God, evil, aliens, police, intel, or whoever believes they sit above everyone else:
YOU will eventually face the results of your dirty games!

You cannot destroy someone’s genuine life for YOUR entertainment and expect no consequences.

Until then, I will keep living my life with NO craziness around me.

And let me tell you this, one more time:

Do NOT dare to destroy good people.

Good people also have their own soul network.
They are not looking for entertainment, power, or money.

And in the end, they always WIN!

When Socialism Destroys a Mother — A Mother’s Day Message

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A mother is not destroyed only by herself or the man she is with, but also by the system in which she lives.

My mother carried me in her arms and tried to leave a very abusive relationship. Alone. The dirty extended family took me from her arms and pushed her out from the house where she was treated like a slave — and she died like a slave.

My mom was a doctor. A good doctor. But she was put down by a dirty socialist and communist system, and by a narcissistic psychopath husband protected by that system. She died alone, part of his dirty games and abuses.

Millions of mothers around the world live this life inside broken systems controlled by dirty actors.

And they learn to live like this:
With nothing.
Deserving nothing.
Because that is what THE SYSTEM taught them.

“Be obedient! Or we don’t need you.
We decide who you are — not you.
It is a man’s world and women obeying them, not a world where men and women stand together.”

And when a system destroys a mother, it teaches her children obedience — not freedom.

Mothers must stay free and independent:
their work,
their lives,
their children.

Without a decent job, a mother opens her fridge and has NOTHING to give her children to eat.

These are basic needs.
Bad systems keep people trapped in basic survival and teach their children limitation instead of freedom.

Not freedom.

Have you ever lived in a FREE country?

Where your life depends on you and your work?
Where you do not need to please anyone just to live and work normally?

My mother was a doctor. She could have lived independent and free. She deserved that life.

But a bad man and a dirty communist system protecting dirty values destroyed her step by step. Enslaved her. Took away her freedom.

My mom died on her bed asking for help, with all the phone lines cut. Asking for help from the same dirty family that destroyed her first and abandoned her when she became a burden.

That is what socialist communist systems do:
No freedom.
No good jobs.
No self-sufficiency.
Only obedience.

This Mother’s Day, if you live in a unfree country, go hug your mother.

Because you may never fully understand the HELL and EVIL she may go through every single day just to keep you alive and protect the hope that one day you will all be FREE.

Love you, Mom.

I am sorry I could not save you.

The same system that kept you down kept me down too.
But I promise you:
I will never stay inside a system that keeps mothers on their knees.

Love to all the mothers who alone know what they go through to keep their children normal, safe, and free.

The Easter Story — Palm Sunday (with a Smile 🌸)

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People say you choose God… maybe because they like to feel in control.

But honestly? It feels more like God chooses you—and you’re just there like:
“Wait… me? Are You sure? Did You get the right person?” 😄

With our human brains and busy lives, we don’t always understand the “why” or “how.” We just pray, try our best, and hope our Wi-Fi connection with God (also known as the soul 😄) is working fine.

Now, trying to control other people and their souls?
Yeah… that doesn’t make anyone God. That just makes things messy.

So here’s a question:
Are you really looking for another “god”… or are you okay trusting the One you already believe in?

Anyway—back to today!

In my Orthodox faith, today is Palm Sunday 🌿
And that means one thing: FLOWERS EVERYWHERE 🌸🌼🌺

It’s basically nature saying:
“Hey! Let’s celebrate before the serious part begins!”

And the best part?

If your name is Rose, Lily, Daisy, Marigold, Iris, Jasmine, Camellia, Aster, Dahlia…
Congratulations!! 🎉 Today is basically your VIP celebration day!

Even if your name is not a flower—don’t worry. Just grab one and join the party 😄

This is a celebration of beauty, of life, and of Jesus Christ.

And yes… there will always be people who misunderstand, judge, or act like villains in a movie nobody asked for.

But hey—while they’re busy doing that…
We’re over here with flowers, peace, and faith. 🌸

Palm Sunday is about something simple and powerful:

Peace in your mind.
Calm in your soul.
Trust in something bigger than you.

So today, maybe:

  • Message someone you miss
  • Say something honest (even if it’s a little awkward 😅)
  • Give a flower 🌼
  • Take a flower 🌸
  • Go to church, or just sit quietly and pray

No pressure to be perfect. Just be real.

And here’s the deeper (but still friendly) truth:

Sometimes people open up to you.
They tell you their stories, struggles, dreams…

Not because you’re powerful.
Not because you’re “special.”

But because your soul connects with theirs.

You’re not “the boss.”
You’re just… a good listener with a kind heart.

Basically—a human with decent vibes 😄

And then one day you realize:

“Wait… did God just send me to help today?”

And again you’re like:
“Umm… God… there are WAY better candidates than me… also I’m a little tired today…” 😂

But still—you help.

Not by controlling.
Not by fixing everything.

Just by being there.

Because in the end:

You don’t become God.
You don’t control people.

You just choose to stay on the good side of things.

You were born with your soul.
That connection to God is already there.

The only real choice?

Whether you go toward the good…
or toward the mess.

So today—let’s choose the good.

Let’s help.
Let’s laugh a little.
Let’s not take ourselves too seriously.

And if God chose you today?

Just smile and say:

“Okay… I’ll try my best. But seriously… You could have picked someone more organized!” 😄

Then do it. 🌸

Eye glasses and jeans

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Eye glasses and jeans, and again I became tired of having strange people around.

We crave normality. A normal life, normal families, normal friends. A normal life. And as everyone knows, for the last 10 years my life has been far away from anything that means normality.

And I try to live and survive in it, because it is about survival in everything.

And I found that denying the HELL that I live in, but helping others, and enjoying with others their little or big wins by helping them, makes me happy.

It makes me happy that OTHERS, NORMAL PEOPLE with hard lives are free and win in their personal fights, professional fights, or day-to-day fights, with a dirty society and corruption that tries to put NORMAL people down. Because the screwed up and crazy ones always win!

Yesterday was hard because I realized that never ever I would be able to ice skate again! And ice skating for me was a big passion, it made me grounded and relaxed. And it is done!

But to compensate, like “I HATE this body because it gave up on me and lead me to this place and these crazy people,” I walk!

In places and sites where I stopped walking for the last 4 months! And if before these dirty, screwed up streets were so familiar to me, now everything has changed, like even gangs changed the boundaries. Lol, sure they changed them!

But it is not my business, not my problem, and more than anything IT IS NOT MY CORRUPTION!

I kept passing by, smiling and thinking who belongs to whom, and how fast dirty money makes dirty money, and power of course!

And of course EVIL, who else, pushed me to enter a new restaurant! Brand new, only 4 months.

And probably God compensated, by taking away my ability to skate, He gave me instead a much higher sensitivity to people’s vibes.

And if anything sounded like rejection, well that restaurant entrance WAS a REJECTION! By vibes!

But that was not the problem. In fact, it was normal! At how I look, I would reject myself too. Sure, I would not want to talk with myself!

The story started ONLY AFTER it, at the bus station!

When my extensive sensitivity felt someone too close, even at a distance, and too VIBRANT!

I started refusing my own feelings, because I try to live NORMAL, forgetting that IT IS MY NORMALITY.

As some of yours is to buy brand name clothes, others to drink alcohol, others to lie, or chase money, mine is… sensitivity to vibes! And I can’t control it!

It happens… when… I don’t know… why… I don’t know… how… I don’t know… but what I know is that it happens, whether I like it or not, accept it or not. And I realize it just after it happens!

So I turned my head to see where it was coming from.

Close to me, but far enough, was a man, 50–60 years old, tall, skinny, and bald. Nothing to be on vibes!

My subconscious was looking for the vibes, not for the man. He could have looked any way, just parts of who he was had the vibes, not all, not him.

And I needed to know what? My eyes scanned him two, maybe three times…

Face could be fake, baldness could be fake too, ears far from the head…

THE VIBES! I kept looking for the vibes.

And I want you to know that this process is milliseconds and totally subconscious.

Till I realized. It was about his eyeglasses and his jeans.

His eyeglasses had video camera recorders, and his jeans were RIFFLES Indigo – I had and wore them in high school! His shoes were European, probably Otters, extremely good quality leather.

The man was not a fit for a bus station, neither for the place nor the country.

And the man knew me!

Since when did he track me? Before entering the questionable restaurant or after it?

I took the bus in the wrong direction. I sat close to a homeless person, starting a conversation with him to figure out how I could change the route.

I didn’t schedule the exit! Neither could I in my situation! I chose a station and an exit!

My targeter came out too!

I had the confirmation of my supposition! He targeted me! ANOTHER CRAZY!

I don’t know what is happening, and I don’t know why it is happening to me!

Starting with the crazy person across my place, the whole dirty network around, and this daily targeting increased in the last months after my accident, my sensitivity leveled up.

And for sure I never wanted to be in this highly sensitive style. To be like I am is how I was born, and it is a normality for me, and a fun motive for all this circus play for craziness and their dirty networks.

Changed buses and lost him… at least that’s what I thought!

People need freedom and normality. If you target them like you target me, you will destroy humanity!

I wish to get out of this dirty place with crazy people, to have a normal life with normal people, because sincerely I DO NOT CARE about anyone’s craziness, if you stay away and do not mess with me!

So my dear bald, crazy man, keep yourself and your vibes away from me… I try to live free and happy, no dirty games around me, and I try to help normal poor others to live it too. Dirty games are not for me!

Go and ice skate! I can’t!
Go and work, make a business, make money! I can’t!
Enjoy your family, relatives, support your dirty crazy networks! I am alone and i want to be alone without your crazy values and crazy people!!
And NOT interested in any!

Hang with ones like you… but never ever in your life target me!

I pray to always stay the normal me, with my old school values and never to be like them – CRAZY!

And you better be sure who you are and set boundaries VERY CLEAR against any craziness!

The Truth Behind Noelia Castillo, Protect Spain

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Today is about Noelia Castillo and Spain. Noelia Castillo is Spain today, and it is deeply wrong, and I would like to tell you why.

Spain is a highly Catholic, religious country, and socialist—heavily socialist.

But when you decide to look down on Spain, I will tell you this: look back at its history.

Who is Spain? Who became Spain? Who came to Spain? Who built Spain? For what does Spain stand, and who hates Spain? And if you don’t know Spain’s history, go and study it.

Because in Spain, a country highly related to Catholicism as well as Muslim culture, where people just want to live, love, and enjoy life, to harvest organs by dirty schemes is NOT Spanish culture—not Catholic, and neither Arabian.

I met them, I know them! Not a single one would agree with it!

Illegal immigrants were PUSHED to Spain, and Spain accepted them.

It is like you accepted your American Irish people in Ireland, in the name of the same ancestry, and they mess with your people.

It is NOT Spain at fault! At fault is THE EUROPEAN UNION and the mess they did in every single country, messing with their rules, forcing illegal immigrants in, opening the borders.

Spain has one of the most radical and rigid Catholic systems, archetypal and with strict rules.

Euthanasia is FORBIDDEN in it.

Hospitals healthcare system and social system are still religiously influenced and supported in Spain.

Then HOW euthanasia—and much more, HOW on mental health people—how was it possible?

WHY was Noelia Castillo not certified and treated at her first suicide attempt, jumping from a window? Or at her first request for euthanasia? WHY?

I met a couple of Spanish doctors—EXTREMELY professional! Much more professional than in many countries I have been in.

Then HOW was Noelia Castillo not certified after the suicide attempt, but instead accepted for euthanasia and possibly influenced to stay in that decision?

And I come back to history. Starting with the EU admission—WHO are the filthy rich people that moved into Spain?
And WHO needed ORGANS?

Start from there!

My assumption is that behind the Noelia Castillo case there is a TOP-level illegal acting-as-legal organ trafficking ring with direct connections to Spanish hospitals.

Otherwise, in a country so religious and with such a good soul—Christian Catholic faith and Muslim faith—it would not happen EVER!

Find the ones who let free illegal immigrants who raped Noelia Castillo, and make a law for it! They must die for what they did!

It will be a lesson for ANYONE—citizen or immigrant, Christian or Muslim—to NEVER EVER rape a woman in SPAIN.

And second, investigate the illegal rings of organ harvesting in Spain, and the policy and procedure on accepting euthanasia/assisted suicide requests from a mentally ill patient.

Spain is good. Spain is religious. God, in all faiths, does not accept EUTHANASIA and RAPE!

EVIL, instead, for a lot of money and dirty rings, will do it!

Protect Spain and protect the people of Spain and the world!

Because EVIL and these rings are TRANSNATIONAL and involve dirty amounts of money!

Whoever messed with Spain or wants to mess with Spain and its people—make them pay for it!

I love SPAIN, God, faith, people, culture, my caffe con leche, and Spain knows that I love this place too!

Make JUSTICE!

150 Years Old, and He Laughs: A Merlin Ring

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150 years old—and he laughs! And I laugh too. We’ve known each other for a long, long time. Honestly, I don’t know how he remembers me, because I’ve tried not to remember that I ever met him.

Sure, anyone would sell their soul for the opportunity I had—but not me. First, I am intelligent enough to explore it, and second, I am not—and never have been—interested in it.

The Merlin ring is not for me. He laughs, I laugh, but the energies come from deep, shadowy places. I’m truly not interested—but no one seems to understand.

A wild dream, chased by so many, is my big NO and a sign of insanity. I do not want to be part of their world. Not me. I like my freedom, my incognito face, my coffee, and enjoying simple conversations with simple people—people like me.

Merlin ring encounter glowing

The Chase for Power, Money, and Youth


People chase power, money, long legs, and eternal youth. Nope. Sorry!

Well… maybe I could try once. A thought comes to my mind: perhaps in a utopian game of power, I could gather all these dirty men fighting for territories and influence at one table and ask:

“WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU WANT MORE?”

You’ve got this, and you’ve got that, and you’ve got the other… and yet you still fight. You still destroy lives. You still want more. Are you never satisfied? Have you gone crazy? Are you trying to be the only God?

It is impossible. God gave life for all. If you’re crazy, it’s better to stop.

Maybe I could try it—just once.

The dangers of Chasing Power

A Meeting of Minds and the Merlin Ring

He smiled as if he knew my thoughts. Of course, external affairs are always discussed in the fresh air—no phones, no walls, no cameras—just Spring and God.

Does he really have 150 years? I think so.

He passed by me, waving with his long, scary hands. The Merlin ring blinked on his finger, just like his eyes.

He knows that I know—and I know that he knows—how my mind’s energies work. I am exactly what he is not, and that is dangerous for both of us.

I waved back and kept walking. I need to find the linguist I met—I want to talk with him.

What evil force decided this? For what reason? Money is not a reason to destroy humanity.

He can help me—I know he can. I keep walking… we need a normal life, not craziness for humanity. With or without AI, we must protect it.

AI Ethics and Humanity

150-year-old Merlin ring encounter

Till We Meet Again

Choose your jewel. I have chosen mine.

My Merlin Ring

The Crazy Schizo Stalker and His Network

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The crazy schizo… every single mental health patient has a story. Today, I will tell you the story of a crazy schizo stalker and his network. A mental case that society let free, and a society is corrupted by criminal organizations.

And yes—this is a high-level criminal network.

He is crazy. He is dangerous. So crazy and dangerous that, one year, from his own house, he dared to order a wife for himself!

It was the second time I met him and his dirty, vicious, organized crime circle.

The first time, I stood up for a young woman—a Chinese woman—facing what was essentially an “arranged marriage.”

She trusted me because I defended her. In that dirty, top-level organized crime network, standing for someone’s rights was dangerous.

Today, I met him again. Like any other day, while I was out. The crazy… the CHEST NUT.

God knows how many people died in that “chest nut” house. The network was so corrupt, so untouchable, that no one dared investigate. And he continued living his crazy way.

Envy, Desire, and Family Control

He was always envious of his beautiful twin brother: curly hair, smile, intelligence, cars, bikes, clothes, world trips, and of course, a lot of women.

And that’s exactly what he wanted: sex, affection, kids, power. That’s what his family wanted to give him, just to control him.

But he was already violent, even toward his own family. He had wanted to kill his own mother. In his house, there were more than three dead bodies, and he was crazy before he became part of the extended family.

But family business is family business.

And me? I ended up as the confessor, listening to everyone—crazy there or part of theirs dirty networks.

The Making of Evil

Because he was always on the edge, his father taught him the art of disguise—to hide his feelings of inadequacy, to smooth over the fact that he was not like his brother. Step by step, he became more crazy, collecting clothes, shoes, and devising indirect ways to revenge people, plotting in his twisted mind.

Then, organized crime saw in him the perfect asset—someone to manipulate, to execute crimes, to twist the networks in their favor.

His family knew that he was behind all the dirty crimes, plots, and alliances in town. And protected him!

He became THE EVIL. In his mind, God gave everything to his brother and mother—and nothing to him.
He wanted everything for himself. At ANY cost!

His sister, skilled in intelligence, noticed the family dynamics. She decided to leverage his mental illness and desire for revenge for her own gain. She approved all his crazy wishes and gained his trust.

The House of Horrors

When he requested to live independently, it wasn’t a problem for his enlarged family and their network (they belonged to a respected social and religious group) to financially support him.

A whole house was just for him.

And everyone in that house had to be liked by him. Anyone “uncomfortable”? Dead.

So many dead bodies, and no one investigated.

The Nurse

He heard about a foreign nurse who could make people’s wishes come true. Even though he could pay for everything, winning the heart of the young Chinese woman was difficult.

He hired the nurse with one order:

“I want this Chinese girl to fall in love with me and have MY baby.”

The nurse refused. The organized crime network was furious. She was fired… after having her coffee poisoned.

Later, he brought in the entire family—nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, friends—all to serve him, to obey his desires.

To “ human traffic” a young Chinese woman with mental health problems for a crazy old man? Nothing.

The network and family ensured that his wishes were obeyed.

The crazy man was always afraid. Afraid of being called crazy.

Desensitizing the Crazy One

His sister and the dirty professional support network decided to desensitize him to women. If he wanted sex, kids, and a “normal life” supported by a dirty network, he needed to look normal.

They needed a trigger to make the crazy man “healthy.” The nurse became that trigger.

Corruption Everywhere

The nurse realized the full scale of corruption: police, politics, religion, healthcare, organized crime, intelligence services—all colluding with the crazy family. There was no friends left unaligned.

She was isolated, helpless in a hostile place. Anyone who knew the story was automatically one of them.

Today

Today, on the street, he walked disguised as another persona: jeans, clean coat, curly wig like his brother, sunglasses, hands rigid but out of pockets. Calm but anxious, secure, free, full of new tricks.

Finally: He was in charge—controlling others, putting down those beneath him, deciding who gets crumbs, who gets access.
HE BROKE THE NURSE!

The nurse smiled at her brokenness, pitying a society where crazies and organized crime overpower genuine souls.

The Witch

She remembered the old occult lady in the coffee shop:

“What would you do if you were a witch?”

“I would make a better world,” she thought. Because if God allows this to happen to good people… maybe it is not God, but Evil.

Perhaps being a witch and saving God from Evil is the only path left.

Someone must stand for God and normality, because Evil and craziness are allowed to rule—and if they do, humanity is destroyed.

They smiled… and, for some unknown reason, an image came to her mind of a remote Nordic rural place—Sweden, Norway. And the witch said:

“I am not dead!”
“And you know it!”

The nurse kept walking, knowing… as long as craziness and Evil are allowed to rule, humanity will be destroyed.

Someone must fight for God, for normality, and for justice.

This story is about madness, corruption, courage, and the courage to see the truth.

Mastering Café Con Leche: My Kontessa Experience

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The story of me and Kontessa, that overpriced, pretentious espresso pot I blew way too much cash on back in 2017. Every bean I threw at that shiny bitch came out tasting like hot regret and broken dreams. I tried to yeet it into the trash, pawn it off on friends, even begged strangers to take it as a “thoughtful” gift. Nobody wanted the cursed thing.

Then—bam—2025 rolls around, the stars finally align, I used actual decent water for once, toss in some random Spanish coffee, and holy mother of caffeine—Kontessa suddenly births the greatest café con leche known to man. Creamy, sweet, life-changing.

I’m standing there like an idiot going, “Wait… ALL THESE YEARS I’ve been torturing myself and this solid steel diva was just waiting for me to stop being a moron?”

Why didn’t I figure it out sooner? Why’d I waste nearly a decade hating my own coffee maker?

I don’t know, man. God’s got a sick sense of humor and apparently a very specific pour-over schedule.

Moral of the story: sometimes the universe makes you suffer for eight years just because was not the right time, right place, right coffee, right water, right milk, right you, right situation, right everything. Not the right vibes!

Trust the process. Or trust God. Or just trust a better coffee. Whatever.

We Are Not the Same: When Integrity Refuses to Be Intimidated

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He is back. The dirty spy who tried to poison me. How long was that? Two years ago? Three years ago?

In a socialist state where an American nurse will never be enough because there are not enough socialists and not enough people ready to behave “nice” and bend the rules for a few bucks — old and poor — I was looking for jobs.

Because the job market is socialist-controlled, and of course gangs and cliques running healthcare don’t like me too much, and I don’t behave according to woke rules and normalized craziness — I didn’t have a job.

So, a US RN with a lot of experience went to beg for a job and ended up at a workshop where a dirty spy and his allies poisoned me.

But surprise — yesterday he came back. Same dirty spy. Same legs in ACE wraps. Same fingers. Same evil eyes under his mask.

He is a psychopath. He came to enjoy my fall and feel happy about my broken foot in his dirty brain, similar to his own cirrhotic decline.

Yes, you know — the dirty spy has liver cancer or pancreatic cancer, one of the two.

And because people behave differently around his huge ego and evilness, he compares himself with others and enjoys every hardship in their lives.

So in his mind we are “healthy equal” — my broken leg with his wrapped feet, both in strapped boots, sandals for him, same color, similar straps.

He started the discussion just like that: “How similar we are.”

I stopped myself from slapping him. You can’t punch an old lady disguise in the middle of a coffee shop. I let him play his dirty role.

I wanted to yell at him:

“NO, we are not similar!

I am not a spy and I will never be one.

I don’t play with people for any reason.

I don’t hurt people and I don’t enjoy the hurt of others.

I don’t want dirty money and dirty power EVER. So we are not the same.”

But what scared me so much was that he was there in the coffee shop close to my kid, on the same bench, for a long time.

He even dared to ask me whom I am to that kid — even if he knew very well who I am. I took it like a threat. That’s how the dirty ones play threats.

And I remembered, in that half second, a gang member in a yellow taxi cab, and after that a “professional” in a house — same eyes, same threat.

Intelligence is corrupted, and in a corrupted society it will run it.

I helped him by giving him the list with the best wide shoes for his legs, and I became scared for the young kids in that coffee store.

If dirty intel is in — and if he is one who poisoned me — no one is safe. Not the business. Not the customers.

Run your dirty intel out of people’s places. Do not put people at risk or voluntarily do it.

And if you die, die with dignity. Don’t try to mess around because you are dying. It is psychopathy, and from a former intel agent it is not admissible.

I saw a spy dying in Santa Cruz. A true brave American.

He had dignity, not psychopathy, until his last moment — trying to protect and teach others, not messing with them.

Craziness is NOT intelligence.

Don’t force me to act in any other ways because a dirty spy lost his mind, is corrupted, and plays dirty.

Too much dirty intel activity in the area — and my preferred coffee shop.