Sake had 16 and is doing just fine.
Mixi needs serious help caring for her THREE. We have to help her a lot and remind her to nurse.

my experience was a bit different. Me and the other girls held against our will all prayed long and hard that the 9/11 disaster would somehow dismantle civilization as we knew it enough to ensure our release/escape. It's the only place I've ever seen where people regularly yearned for disaster. I was the only girl to watch the attack on the news, as my parents were visiting and took me off grounds. Everyone else was denied access to news, which was pretty standard, as we were not allowed newspapers, broadcast television, radio, internet, or real telephone calls ever. It's weird that I now know people who were personally affected by 9/11.

Thank you, Cameron Todd Willingham, for your sacrifice. I know you didn't intend to, but because of your death, many others will not die.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/barry-scheck/innocent-but-executed_b_272327.html

I have the fat genes, from both of my parents. The only reason why I'm "dancer size" is because I can't stop throwing up over half of what I eat. Every similarly sized person I know has some sort of health, metabolic, or eating disorder.

I think Pam went mad because all of her life was a double-bind.

When we were in Cross Creek, it was physically impossible to behave according to the rules all the time. I remember vividly when Trish went six months with only one consequence. She was accused of concealing her rule-breaking, since it was accepted norm that you couldn't legitimately do that. Specifically, they used variations two, three four.

While growing up at home, my dad was one to place me in a double-bind most of the time, specifically literalization and status disqualification. This was variation three. Now he is withholding his love, affection, and support over my being unable to change my gayness.

Some of you may wish to find me on facebook

Reading this is like reading my own biography. Even after three years, it still stopped my heart.
Oh Jennifer Christina Cornet, why couldn't you be the woman I'd hoped you were?
We call those people who do us good our friends and others who do us harm our enemies, but these are not solid barriers, as friends become enemies and enemies friends.
I still cry over those I have lost.

The greatest, most profound secret I have ever learned:
Ka is a wheel that crushes us all.





more about a cult of one


bad psych

and Absolutely fabulous


For three years, I suffered in silence, in madness, when really what I had was drapetomania!
Do you understand? No? Tis alright! I'm mad, you're mad, we're all mad here.

Every day, I find more reasons to love Obama. Bush sure put him in a no-win situation with regards to "enemy combatants," but I just know Obama will find a way around this problem.

Sometimes I feel like I could really spend the rest of my life simply wandering around the internets looking for people I once knew and loved.

Not that I plan on doing much with it, but I have an account on facebook now. My email is fireincarnation@gmail.com.

I've been moderately sick since Sunday.
Yesterday it moved into my lungs, and now I have bronchitis. Luckily I have backup steroids and my inhaler, which I started using yesterday. Only (serious) problem now is I ran out of medical marijuana and money. So I'm waiting until I get less sick and hoping that is soon so I can make more money, buy more marijuana (and catfood.)
When things go wrong, they do so in uncontrollable batches.

My boss at work has been handing out free passes to the girls, who are supposed to pass them out to random guys they meet. Then the guy shows up at the club and gets in without paying cover charge, which I suppose is cool, cos then they have more money to spend on the ladies. There is, of course, the problem that the club is basically asking dancers to work for free, as club promoters. Being a promoter is a job, and one that you should be paid for, probably not hourly, but a flat fee for each customer who shows up with your card is pretty standard. So this was the level of inappropriateness I was expecting out of work, maybe they want free labor, maybe they want you to tip out everyone and their mother, regardless of whether they did anything to help you or not. Stupid club bs, but NOOOOO! My experience the other day was far outside anything I had ever expected.

You see, we're not to hand out these free passes to black folks. Seriously. The manager warned us not to encourage black men to come to the club because "they are just here to play the field, not to tip or buy dances." Good news is that of the six girls he asked to back him up, five specifically cited having good experiences with black customers, three said they had a black regular customer, and noone said anything about black men being bad to dance for. So it seems that it's just the manager's racism here, not everyone's racism. This is the same manager who berated one of our darker-skinned dancers here for being "too skinny" two weeks before, and was extremely upset when I told her she was beautiful all sizes I saw her.

And yes, I am open to suggestions of how to deal with the manager.

I love you, president Obama! I am finally safe!

My parents are making it shockingly clear where their priorities lie: they can't stop hunting for things I've done "wrong" even though them doing so super-stresses me out and makes my vomiting condition worse. SERIOUSLY. Even when the things they convince others to do for them are illegal and can get the person fired. Then I'm left in a HUGE ethical quandary. Do I file complaints on businesses that reveal my privileged health information to my parents? Those businesses and people are oh-so-apologetic for turning over my information, but I'm really, really pissed. Oh, and nothing I can say or write to any of them will stop them from giving the information to my parents. The pharmacy got a letter on file and a lecture about my parents being sneaky and searching for my medical information, both clearly stated that it was not okay to release ANY information to Donna or Frank for ANY reason. They released all my information anyway.

I was born in the wrong place, the wrong society, the wrong decade, the wrong planet.

I am growing Lanugo, a soft, downy coat to protect my body from the cold.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lanugo

You think you have done nothing wrong.

You showed me a beautiful, wondrous world.
You created a land sheltered from all horror.
Then dropped me into the real one without a clue
And acted surprised that I got taken advantage of.
it's such a shame, a great tragedy you say
but will you help me overcome it?
Is my feeling envy or what could I be said to envy?
I envy that world of fairness that I've never seen elsewhere.
Is it envy when things go right for you and wrong for everyone else?
Does envy feel like a deep black sadness?
Cos when I think about your privileged world, it turns down my head and makes me cry.

You paid for my torture.
I told you openly and in plain English all the horrible things that happened,
and you turned me in for it.
You think so lowly of "Hanoi Jane" (a story based on myth)
But can you not see you did the same thing?
The injustices and torture for three years, two weeks and four hours?
It was there that I learned deception.
It was there that I learned to parrot the speak of others to survive.
It was there that I died.
And in the end, when I chose prostitution and death over continued torture
They wouldn't let me leave.
To this day you won't believe me, won't listen to it.
The wounds burn bright and hot in my very soul.
How can you pay for your daughter's torture and not even do her the decency of listening to it?
How can you doubt my sincerity seven years later?
I want so badly to forgive you, to have things back the way they were
But how can I even imagine this when my wounds hurt me still?

I wasn't lashing back, I was fighting to stay alive.
Fighting the only way I knew how.
I never intended it to end this way.

And for the record, I'm not sick because I feel guilty over what I have done
I am sick because there is something biologically wrong with me
a thing made worse by trying to reconcile the man who loved me with the man who did that to me
And made worse by me loving someone you detest.

How do I reconcile the vision of my loving, caring father with the man he is and has been, the man who torments me so? How can the man who massaged me as an infant until my color came back be the same one who condemns me for loving a woman? How can such love come with such hate? And how can I still love the one who hurts me so?

I don't want to talk about what I know now,
but it's a lot for me to handle.
I think this might just change just about everything.
I'm tired of lying, but noone wants or understands the truth
How long could I be expected to spend explaining the secrets of the universe to the very young?
Is it my fault when they don't understand?
There is a wall that lies between my understanding and your ability to understand.
My Ka is far apart from yours.

I need some love now.






You found hope,
You found faith,
Found how fast she can take it away.
Found true love,
Lost your heart,
Now you don't know who you are.
She made it easy,
Made it free,
Made you hurt till you couldn't see.
Sometimes it stops,
Sometimes it flows,
Baby, that is how love goes...

You will fly and you will crawl,
God knows even angels fall.
No such thing as you've lost it all,
God knows even angels fall.

It's a secret,
No one tells,
One day it's heaven, one day it's hell.
And it's no fairytale,
Take it from me,
That's the way it's supposed to be.

You will fly and you will crawl,
God knows even angels fall.
No such thing as you've lost it all,
God knows even angels fall.

You laugh, you cry, no one knows why,
But, oh, the thrill of it all.
You're on the ride, you might as well,
Open your eyes.

You will fly and you will crawl,
God knows even angels fall.
No suh thing as you've lost it all,
God knows even angels fall.

Even angels fall...
Even angels fall...