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Addiction and Prostitution in Hawaii

Normal People Have No Respect for My Efforts to Humanize Sex Workers and that hurts!

Wow, what an Ugly Interaction with a big wig Honolulu attorney. Good thing I was prepared, but it still stung.

I don’t mind sharing this bit of my life with you, mostly because no one I know reads anything I write. It is easier to be honest when you’re not being honest with a specific someone. Anyway, I have been involved with a dispute about people treating me badly where I live. I brought the action myself because to be, again, honest, no attorney wanted to back up someone with my “background.” And this “background” always justifies people mistreating me. You might logically ask why I would keep the background in the foreground by doing this blog, and you would have a logical point. The reason I have publicly declared myself a self appointed spokesperson for people who could care less about anyone speaking for them is that I was, first and foremost, trying to find a way to take my record and make it work for me and not against me. This record is the thing that excludes me from employment and other opportunities. What if I could make money off of the stories that I know–what a coup that would be! Do you think I should pretend that I was primarily community minded, that I wanted to be an advocate for the voiceless who are voiceless because people do not care what they have to say and they have nothing to say because they are too busy pursuing their addictions anyway? Should I have pretended to have reached a place of enlightenment that has always eluded me by making myself out to be self sacrificing so much so that I would give up a fresh start in order to establish possible understanding of the outcasts? I could have lied but to what end? There is no fresh start. The internet makes public record so very public. It is not front and center if you google my name, but if you know how to access Hawaii court records, you can enter someone’s first and last name and you can find out their entire legal history in this state. Felony, misdemeanor, lawsuits, divorce–it is all right there if you go to E Court Kokua. There is no need to pay a professional for a background check if you want to access an individual’s legal history in Hawaii, minus family court confidential stuff. I was acting on the premise that “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” is a workaround your unfavorable record. If I could repackage my legal history I could get people to see things my way and reduce the stigma–I thought. I thought wrong. I believed I could make money off of my stories, I planned. My plan has yet to come to fruition. Finally, I could make people see the outcasts as people. I could not change people’s views. There was nothing but contempt during the interaction with the attorney who is a member of the establishment with a capital E, Establishment. I could tell he was tripping over himself trying not to reveal the higher minded purpose of my writing, but only because I knew what he was not saying about the intellectual side of my work. But no one else would suspect an intellectual take on street life is being downplayed by one of my detractors! I think for anyone listening to this attorney give his view of me, with the underlying message being I was treated badly because that is what I deserve, I think the most audible part of his speech was his contempt. In fact, his contempt was so strong it overpowered the particular meaning of any word, singly or in combination. I can only remember the feeling, I cannot recall what he actually said. The reality of the inescapability of my life makes me sad. I feel deflated which is a foreign feeling for someone likes me who rides on her energy much of the time. The social skills it takes to repackage my record in a way that is appealing to others, or at least not a complete deal breaker when it comes to knowing me, well those skills fall somewhere in the likablity range and I have never been high on that scale.

Will you dislike the depressing nature of this real time writing? If you knew my depressive self would you keep reading?

I never write when I am in the midst of a feeling but I am doing precisely that. I am trying to correct one of the things I believe has kept my blog from being more popular. I am trying to personalize my writing to give my readers a view into me so that they feel they know me. Me, the person who so desperately wanted to be someone that she looked for prestige outside of herself to fill that hole, but when a Harvard degree did not complete me, I gave up altogether feeling betrayed by what I perceived as a broken promise. I thought if I was successful I would feel a certain way, and stop feeling another way, and that is not what happened. Yes, the great vocabulary was there, for one thing, but belonging to a group, being on the inside–I thought that degree would earn me an invitation into people’s personal lives but it did not. I was not an outsider because I did not have a good enough resume. I was an outsider because of something I was or was not. That is why I tried drugs when they were offered to me, why I gave up on pushing forward in a career. Imagine striving for so long and hard only to end up alone at Christmas, yet again, with nothing but the pity invitation that people with families extend to loners on the holidays. That is where I was in New York City in 1996 when I met some people in a bar who wanted me to try smoking something out of a glass tube. I had never seen such a thing. But drugs–that was incredible. You had to know someone to know about drugs, you had to have connections for a way into the taboo and forbidden. I repositioned my hope to belong with the people doing the hidden forbidden. I thought I could belong there. I did not know drugs were a path to being completely alone and even more self obsessed than I already was. Not even self obsessed, but other obsessed. Obsessed with getting something outside of myself, and an obsession far more all consuming than the desire to achieve. No one would walk the path with me, but I did not know that when I tried the drug. We never experiment by ourselves. We are always presented a picture of how drugs is something special, elite even, and we see it as an opportunity to obtain something we have always wanted but had no hope of acquiring. We wanted to come in, and leave being an outsider behind. It was one of the few truly honest mistakes I have made in my life. I just did not know that all these years later I would be typing these words in a one bedroom apartment that I share with my cat, no people, no friends, no family. I did not know things would end up as they began. Except now, no one cares that I went to Harvard, if they even believe it.

I better keep the real me under wraps if I want anyone to keep reading.

I hope these depressing words are not too off putting. I just got through with the phone conference with the court so you are hearing the raw emotion. You ever hear how bored people are boring. I do know that depressed people are depressing, so I will stop now. The good news is that thousands of people around the world have found me temporarily amusing in very small doses. One must take one’s victories where they can be found. Discovering what people really think of me is a subject best left unexplored. And being real needs to give way to pretending. If I lost you my beloved readers, I would really be alone. So next post will be happy happy joy joy. If not, I will at the very least present you with some energizing outrage! Thanks for letting me share.

Categories
#addiction, #Rippleeffect, #Consequences, #China, #Health

Taboo Honolulu–why do I really write about the forbidden?

I have the truth and the really real truth

I think about what I am trying to do with this blog, this writing project. Since 2017, I have shared my story in an admittedly disjointed way that one reader likened to “stream of consciousness.” My story–what is that? If I am asked to give an elevator pitch describing my story, how would I define myself? Of course I could not tell the absolute truth since I would be talking to someone so I would automatically create the most positive image of myself and when that is done you know you cannot be cringingly honest. Can you? Could I? Could I share the vulnerability that makes me who I am and think you will want to read it? My superficial, appealing (I hope) elevator pitch of my story, this blog you are reading, would be: “People have told me I should write a book that is different from the tourist brochures of Honolulu’s Waikiki tourist track. Downtown Honolulu is a few short miles but a world away from the wealth of Waikiki. It is one of the centers of street life powered by drug addiction and maintained by street prostitution, theft from stores, and drug dealing. As a Harvard grad I started off in Hawaii as a researcher studying a subculture. But I surprised myself when something I knew nothing about called “addiction,” carried me into the streets where I lived a life that was at one time unimaginable. I did things, saw things, and got to know people I never would have met in my former existence.

I learned that everything I thought I knew about sex, gender, taboos…that list is too long.! Everything I thought I knew about everything needed adjusting. What I can tell you about the forbidden world of sex and drugs is endlessly educational for the scholars and entertaining for the voyeurs.”
That’s my too-long elevator pitch. It is all true but not exactly honest. Let’s try for more honest. See below.

My Vulnerable Truth in an honest elevator pitch about my story

I write to harvest the wisdom from my experience because I am still seeking success as defined by society to validate me. After a childhood enduring racism, foster care, and no friends, I thought Harvard would prove my worth to everyone, including me. But the problems I thought a high status accomplishment would solve were still with me. After graduation I was still alone, without family, invited for Christmas dinner by a kind person who included lonely people for the holidays. I felt betrayed that success had not healed my heart or changed my isolated reality. I was offered drugs in a Manhattan bar. I said yes to I knew not what, other than drug use was a rejection of the conventional values that did not heal me. A move to Hawaii resulted in me taking my problems from New York to paradise. Then came full time addiction, joblessness, homelessness, prison. I had become everything I used to separate myself from with scorn, everything that was like my family of origin. I found freedom from judging people bc I understood how a person can fail and still be human. Yet the knowledge that the world still judges me motivates me to use what I have in search of success. All I have is fascinating stories of taboo street life, hidden sexual realities, and secrets people share with hookers bc who could we tell? I hope these stories will reach a broad enough audience to generate income and justify my life choices so I won’t be ashamed to be in touch with people from high school. Success still pending.

I can be more vulnerable and in time, as we get to know each other I will give more of me. Since 2017 I have shared events but not myself. Change is coming.

Caroleena, https://experescort2018.com
Categories
#expertescort2018.com advice Autobiographical blogs Behavior inspiration

Revitalize Inside! This link sums up the encouragement I want this blog to give: “No One Is Useless In The World”⤵

I wanted to hide my identity, back then

The thing about Harvard is it prizes perfection. It is the reward for making the fewest mistakes the first time around. It is not a place that rewards second chances, recovery, getting back on track. Only those with flawless records get in. I remember seeing the question about criminal history and thinking the application must ask that as a formality. Surely no one in my world ever had problems with the law. Unthinkable÷=÷!€

Second Chances Are More Inspiring

It is great to qualify for an elite placement.  Congrats to those

Those people who never messed up so badly that there is a permanent record of their mistakes are both skilled and lucky. I used to look down on people who made mistakes. I thought I was better because I had gotten into Harvard. In truth it is not that inspiring to hear of someone who had it so good that they never messed up and they were rewarded for their Good Fortune. I am not saying that I did not work hard because I did. But I think there was an equal measure of good luck also. And good luck is not inspiring to other people. What is inspiring is people who learned to control first their mindset and next their circumstances.  These people make me feel like it is true that no matter how far down the scale you have gone you will see how your experience benefits others. My low level life has meaning when I write about it because there is so much I had to obtain to make this blog possible. Housing, safety so my phone is not always stolen by other street people, stability to be able to concentrate on using technology, spare time when I am not hustling for my next hit of dope, clarity of mind to string words together in a sentence. Any one of these achievements is hard won when a person has been on the. street. I am encouraged enough to believe I can do more. My success at Harvard can be summed up as my absolute

determination to make the moist of an amazing opportunity. That is not the well if strength I draw from. Follow my lead and look to how I created a second chance in order to do this blog.

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Escort Answers

Update on this Scorpio’s Bday wishes with Sexy Pic

I got a job at an internationally known establishment and received my first real paycheck in years. I have passport fee money set aside. I’m receiving alerts about job opportunities in Antarctica. Co-workers and managers said I worked noticeably hard. I didn’t bail out on job when I became anxious bc I didn’t know what to do and was embarrassed by people telling me to calm down. I might not be alone bc I’m a bad, unloved person but I might have Asperger’s. Research has revealed root causes not limited to self condemnation.