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Genevieve

One of my blogs is named after "the daughter I never had." She was a refugee of sorts and she threw my life under a bus to try to save her own. Genevieve was not her real name, though she told me she used it online for a time. Possibly only briefly and many years ago. I haven't heard from her in a long time. I don't know for sure what became of her, though my feeling is she's probably no longer alive. I am still alive and my life has yet to recover from those events, which is part of why I don't believe she is alive anymore. My life looks wholly unfixable and it's clear in my mind my relationship to Genevieve is a primary root cause of that fact. Genevieve was a MtF transgender youth who was horrifically abused as a child. I helped her escape her monied, connected abusers and then Genevieve burned me to try to protect herself. I don't think that's what she really wanted. My situation is complicated by the fact that Genevieve was good at hobnobbi...

L'Histoire

I'm basically a total fucking loser. I was one of the top three students of my graduating high school class, along with my Korean best friend who was number two and some guy who was number one. I had a raftload of impressive academic credentials for a high school student from the "backwater" state of Georgia, including State Alternate for the Governor's Honors program, a residential summer enrichment program for gifted students. That means in tenth grade, only two other people in the state of Georgia outperformed me (likely both were older than me) for applying to the program in a specific subject area and had one of them failed to be able to participate, I would have taken their place. I achieved that placement after somewhat flippantly choosing some subject or other (maybe journalism) as my area of interest because unlike most of the other gifted kids in my school, I didn't have some stand-out area of strength. I was someone doing well overall and it was essen...

Me and Languages

My mother's mother came from a low level German noble family. Mom was born and mostly raised in Danzig, a very cosmopolitan freistadt (independent city state), except for the years that the family spent in the country during World War II to try to safeguard everyone as best they could. When the war ended, she found herself in the newly created communist East Germany where she was required to take Russian in school, which is why I know a few words of Russian. She left East Germany to return her sister's baby to her , so she was a young illegal immigrant in West Germany when she met my father at a party. She spoke extremely proper High German. His American accent plus the fact that he mostly learned German from farmers, meant she couldn't understand a word he spoke and she asked someone what language he was speaking. My older sister was born in Germany. Her first language was actually German and she translated for my parents while she was a toddler. So I grew up in a bilingua...

Doreen Michele

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