It is the true teacher who leaves the class knowing they have learned the most.
Tucson, AZ
Joined September 2006
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So that's the short of it. So much more it's unwritable. I hope you had fun making a woman doing the best she can in a nation gone to hell during a pandemic. My privileges keep adding up - because I've lived past my expiration date, I now have been moved to medicare and have
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but I refuse opiates and so it goes. I live in an extremely modest fashion, but I am comfortable and have some inner peace now. Until you set me off with such disrespect. I wonder what made you think anything about me identifies as white OR privileged (in my career I was lucky)
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terminally ill with no ability to return to work and not expected to have lived so long but for my awesome oncologist here. I now have splenic sequestration (a sign of deterioting blood management) and C-PTSD. I will never fly again. I live in a constant state of severe pain
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I decided fuckit, I'm going back to Tucson to die. So I found a little affordable place on a ranch outside of the city. I rested there, housebound for most of last year. I moved back into the city in a shared space within my poverty level means. I'm settling in now. And I am
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lunch to meet his "new" girlfriend - the secret he'd been hiding as new for 2 years. I was broken. I went back to my place and attempted suicide. I tried several times. No luck. I was looking at that shithole (also Section 8, which goes. hand in hand with WHITE PRIVILEGE)
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Hospitalized and again in complete bone marrow failure, I died (second time) was revived and required a heart shunt. I promptly got MRSA, requiring more hospitalization. I lost my apartment. Now I had my benefits so I was able to find a place. My mother's fucktard invites me to
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I lived there and spent time with my Mom, who died October 1st mere blocks from the Las Vegas shooting. White privilege much? I came home, beyond lost. About a week later my place was broken into and I was robbed at gunpoint and beaten near death. Neighbors found me.
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I could not sustain that work so I left and spent time between Tucson and Las Vegas, taking care of Ray and Mom. Ray passed away. I had to sell the house, which paid my student loan and some medical debt off. My mother, who long said she had me just to nurse me at her death, did.
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His non white privilege had landed him years back in Vietnam, where he served as a Navy Corpsman. The Walking Dead. He was wheelchair bound by the time we married. As he was dying, my mother found out she had brain cancer too (dad, husband, mom) I nursed both and went to work.
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to buy a car and a modest townhome. I wrote the majority of 35 book in a decade and began to travel. And bleed. A lot. But I kept working. I knew it was a window that would close, so I shoved a lot of life in to the next 15 years. By June 13, 2013, I collapsed at LAX and was
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Along came the Web and I began with small sites, Mosaic at that point. I dug in hard and ended up doing my MA Thesis "A Brave New World Wide Web" which became my first book. I moved out of the shithole and into a little cottage where I worked on MSN, made 30k a year, and was able
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an online M.A. via New School in NYC. I was using an XT and a BBS for my studies. I found the Internet, worked doing medical outreach, research writing and publishing with St. Johns, also in NY. Gopher was my best friend.
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to look for schools that might work with my homebound life. I found Prescott College, where I graduated with my BA 4.0 avg in Technical Communications and Environmental Studies. I then hooked up with Voc Rehab and became one of if not the only disabled person to get funding for
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I was deemed 100% disabled at 24. I got section 8 housing (roach infested hell hole but for one man who eventually I married) and a stipend. My brother gave me his Commodore 64 and a Hayes 300 baud modem. I found support via QLink chat and local BBSs. I worked on music. I began
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He did. Mom did try to help and I was hospitalized at UMDNJ NWK. I spent nearly a month there, and was sent back to no apartment and a boyfriend who had sent me roses and welcomed me only to find his new girlfriend banging the door down. I moved in with a friend. I was bedbound.
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I got into college (community) and then on to UofA for Lingustics. I was a junior when I got very sick and landed at UMC with multiple systems disorder, massive tremors that took three days to control, and was left very week. My uncle told my mother he was sending me back to NJ.
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Finally I got away. Then, my mother's mother was dying here in Tucson. My mother preferred her career. Sent me to care for her. I did, and honorably, until she died. Then my mom came out, packed up the house, locked it and left me in the street. I found my way to work/study.
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then sold by the infamous Nochenson brothers who had murdered their father and THEIR WHITE PRIVILEGE had them out of prison in a few years. They traded me to their cousin for half a kilo of cocaine. The next two years I spent mostly shackled to a bed and used as a sex slave.
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To anyone who thinks I had privilege, I was severely abused to the point I have three hairline fractures on the right side of my skull, was burned down one arm and on my face. I was thrown out "tough love" into the street at 15. For the next two years I first was pimped out,
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