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.

#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.

Addiction and Prostitution in Hawaii

The Experience of being arrested for street prostitution

People underestimate the traumatic effect of the whole criminal justice experience. I was the target in a Honolulu street prostitution sting years ago. A sting is where cops go undercover and act as participants in a scene to draw in actual participants and get people who do not see a trap to say or do something illegal so they can be arrested. There are no entrapment laws in Hawaii that would prevent cops from creating a situation that was there at that precise place and time BC the cops brought it. The guy driving the car that had pulled over for me asked “a hundred for everything ok?” The driver had brought the car to a stop along the side of a quiet road. As soon as I said “yes” there was a tap on my passenger’s side window. A large figure clad in all black, including a black ski mask like a horror movie villain filled my view. He was very polite. “Please step out of the car ma’am. You are being arrested for solicitation.” He opened the door for me and I got out feeling like I was in a dream. The car immediately sped off. Seemingly out of nowhere there was a van and like, 17 people, all ski masked, wearing all black including boots and gloves as if they were not in Honolulu , Hawaii. I don’t remember how I ended up in the back of an empty van with two guys in disguise. Both were jovial and eager to ask me questions as if they were young and new and ready to learn, which they probably were. “So what’s it like out here, how long have you been out here, do you always jump in cars with strangers, do you know what day it is?” Each was anxious for the other guy to shut up so he could ask his question. There was nothing about a right to remain silent. They were not collecting evidence but anecdotes fir stories to tell their friends. There was no need for evidence. I was from the street I would get a public defender, I would be guilty. I see now a real attorney could have gotten the whole thing tossed on the vagueness of the question BC “everything” is not a specific sex act like the law requires, but if I could have afforded an attorney I probably would not have been out there. So I was snatched from my life by masked strangers who suddenly appeared and always had the use of force at their disposal. After being kidnapped and during transport, I was subjected to shaming and ridicule as I was held out as an object of amusement. There was no way to know how and when the ordeal would end. For me it would end 20 months later. You realize you have created your own problems just like most people with problems but as one of the lowest people in society you are ineligible for sympathy or kindness–even from yourself. It would be helpful to recognize how injurious this process is and it is worth noting that the cops choose which of the twenty or so women on the street to target. Would not be surprising if some people based upon color were chosen while others were fresh to go. Still, I was out there and arguing that others got a fresh pass dies nothing for me. That was a truly terrible time.


My Reluctance to get CoronaVirus Vaccine Showed me an unlovely side of myself

I was not sure I wanted to do it myself. I was operating on the principle best summed up with the words: better you than me. I had to make a change to embrace a living amends because of my debt to society. Really, the debt is more to myself because society has quite gotten over expecting anything from people situated like me.

Other people could get the vaccine, and I could see what happens, I thought. That would be fine. After all, you just never know. Right…you never know. And since I do not know if it is safe and the only way for us as a society to find out if it is safe is for people to get vaccinated. Someone has to do it. Many someone’s. And I was ok with other people taking the risks for me, and I would swoop in and reap the benefits once I got the results.

Was I really that selfish? I was. This selfishness was news to me. I thought of myself as a person on the forefront of advocating for people’s well being within my personal circle and extended circle. And yet… My first instinct was to preserve myself at the expense of other people. I was really disappointed in myself, as much as I was surprised. This is the elementary lesson that maybe others have learned much earlier but I am just getting around to mastering: If I want to be a good person as I define “good” I have to make an effort to think differently and do what I ordinarily would not do. I have to do the things that, to put it colloquially, suck. I am not talking about other people’s opinion of me, because no one really knows and if it came down to it, a person can say whatever she wants to in the unlikely event that someone asks something so personal as did you or did you not have that medical procedure. No one had asked me, and there was always the fall back position of lying once I found out which way they were leaning. I had no worries about other people’s opinions. After all, people are pretty much caught up in judging me for my past anyway and generally consider me ineligible for the label “good.” Yes, I have to say I have just about gotten over looking for approval from others because I have faced the fact that it is pretty much not going to happen, the “it” being approval from other people who know me. Unless…unless I meet special, nonjudgmental people who like me anyway and the only person who did not judge me and liked me anyway and not just for my body is dead and has been since 2017. That kind of lightening has never struck twice for me. I am not trying to win friends and influence people. I want to live with myself. And I cannot be at peace with who I am if I am happy to let other people do for me what I could and should do for myself and others.

I want to be proud of myself but I could not be proud of myself if I let other people take the risk for me. I wanted a life that made a difference and I do not know yet if my life will matter the way I wanted it to matter. And what did I want? My goal is to have a life that makes the people that come in contact with the results of my work or my presence better off because I existed. That is a broad standard that allows for much apparent failure but does so in such a way that failure does not mean I did not matter. People could even look at me as a lesson in what not to do. I will take that. However, I cannot hide from the fact that my mentality has not been focused on giving to others over the years. I will even go so far as to admit that I enjoyed much of my time doing what people do not respect, and what in actuality, renders me so unimportant that I am practically invisible to most people. Being the kind of selfish that is the hallmark of addiction generally means you do not make a difference and the world might be better off without you. Harsh but true.

The selfishness that is the hallmark of addiction renders the addicted person so devoid of status that she is almost invisible to society and people are ok with not seeing her. There is no making a difference in the world when you are all caught up in yourself.

Caroleena, contemplating why she eventually got the vaccine after seeing herself in the glaring light of introspection

And now– I have the chance to do something for the community and I was not rushing to seize the moment? That was shameful. And that shame motivated me in a way that makes shame kind of a good thing. I went ahead and got both shots. Pfizer. Sore arm for a few days. Some fatigue. Will there be long term effects? I guess we will find out. And it might as well be me who does the discovering. Wouldn’t you agree?

There is an appropriate and productive way to apply shame for a good outcome. Yet another statement that I recognize is harsh, but true. Hey, truth is harsh, sometimes. That’s why it is best for me to say the harsh things about myself because it might be alienating to shine the light of truth on others. You know that I speak only for myself and even then, I am not guaranteeing that the events I speak of are literal. There could be creative license in anything I write. You do know that yes? Just an aside.


The Haughty Kid I was would Never Respect an Adult With My Past

#1 #1 #1

As kids we are taught that being first was the best possible outcome. We were never taught that helping others was just as or even more important. Don’t believe me? What’s the name of the person who graduated first in his high school class? Valedictorian. What’s the name of the kid who helped people in the graduating class? We have no honorary title for the kind, the helpful.  I wanted to be the best. To obtain honors, do meaningful work. But I gave up when I found out success did not cure lonliness and I had no people in my life to help me. I would never have talked to a hooker, certainly never thought I would become one. Funny thing, I get more companionship, secretly of course, out of hooking than I ever did out of success. Did I make the wrong choice? Of course. But given my difficulty relating to people what else could I have done that I would not have to hide?

Escort Answers

A Real Life List of Amazing Reasons Used by Straight Clients and/or TG Working Girls To Make Doing It Ok

How does a straight guy have a homosexual encounter? Certain things must be said and I have listed what I have heard when I ask people about their adventures. Guys often told me they didn’t realize “she” was really a “he.” It was important for a lot of guys to let me know that they never intended to go with a dude, it just happened. By accident. Hmmm….I’m skeptical of that claim that when they initiated the hustle it was all about “punani” or flower, which is colloquial for female genitalia. (Am I a nerd or what?) Well, sometimes people have to tell themselves something to get them through life and below I have a comprehensive list of the justifications I have heard. By the way, it is not my contention that justification is necessary. Consenting adults should be able to do what they want without guilt, but that is not our life.

Is it ever really a surprise that she is really a he? I think I can always tell, but if I have been fooled obviously I don’t know it. If I had been a guy maybe I would find myself in a room, surprised by what I reached down and found on the other person. And what would I have done in that situation? Here is what people have said who found themselves in situations where sex was on the agenda but society put doubts in people’s minds that had to be overcome by the reasons put forth by the working girl or by the client himself (to himself, inside his mind)

  • It’s just this one time
  • It’s the first time
  • It’ll be the last time
  • No one knows we are together
  • No one will ever know about this
  • You’ll never do it again
  • You’ve got to try it just once
  • Let’s see where this goes
  • I want to know for sure I am not gay so I’ll see if I can do it
  • As long as porn is on that shows women while we do this, it’s cool
  • This is experimenting, nothing serious.
  • There’s no such thing as sexual orientation. People are attracted to people.
  • You want me or you want fish?
  • I am only young, nothing I do can be taken seriously
  • This doesn’t count
  • I have a girlfriend for real
  • You’re not a man until you’ve been in a man
  • As long as you’ve never been in a man you’re not gay
  • If you close your eyes, touching is just friction and anybody could be doing it to you, male or female
  • Every straight guy I’ve asked says yes as long as it’s a secret. Every straight guy, every time. It’s not just you.
  • I can keep a secret.
  • I’m already keeping lots and lots of secrets and you don’t know about those so you can trust me to keep your secret.
  • I can’t say anything because no guy will ever trust me or go with me in secret again, so you know I won’t tell
  • The d**k is the only part of the guy that I like, nothing else, so I am not gay. There’s no emotion, no attraction.
  • If we don’t cross swords or touch swords, it doesn’t count.
  • If he is dressed like a girl it’s the same thing as being with a girl.
  • The female hormones keep him from getting hard when I s**k so it’s like being with a woman.
  • I have relationships with women and sex with men, there’s no emotion.
  • If he does me, and I don’t do him, it’s not the same as a homosexual encounter
  • Hookers aren’t really people, it’s just dealing with a piece of flesh, not a person so it can’t effect my identity.
  • Sex is not an identity it is an activity.
  • I’m trisexual. I will try anything once.
  • I don’t gossip like a b***h.
  • Gay for pay or gay for the stay isn’t truly gay.

Yes, I have heard each of these statements and I did not invent any of them myself.

The secret between the legs is fascinating