The question is very simple: Whom (or what) do you work for? For the UN? For the Chinese mission? For yourself?

I found myself tongue-tied. I do not know how to answer this question.

Yesterday I was interviewed by three Special Personnel. Lots of questions were put to me, but I did not have as much difficulties answering those questions as with this simple one.

There were big questions and small questions yesterday. If I was allowed to think about the ultimate goals of the questions, I would guess people want to know whether I only work for the Chinese government. My answer is I have worked for the United States culture and for the Chinese culture.

That has been my original intention and it has not changed through it all, the entire process, along with all the drama.

Since one day my research may carry me into the British Culture, the Japanese culture, and many other cultures in the world, can I be allowed to reply timidly that I work for the United Nations?

I have never been a staff member of the UN, so I cannot legitimately reply: I work for the UN, without being questioned by people if they insist that I must show a UN ID. You do not have  a UN ID, how do you have the audacity to reply you work for the UN?

I am a scholar specializing in cultural studies. Can’t I reply the goals of my research is to link the cultures together, to improve cross-cultural understanding and interactions, and perhaps maybe to heal a few senseless cultural and personal wounds caused by intercultural misunderstandings?

But the other side of the coin is I am also a very solid,  pragmatic person. When I say the goal of my research is to link cultures together, I will have to see help extended when he or she is facing difficulties in another culture.

I insist that we ground our big, lofty goals in our solid, everyday life. I do not like those people who only talk loudly about lofty ideals without putting them into concrete actions. Neither do I have a good opinion of those who bury themselves in food and sex. People need more than bread to survive, to live. Some people need to live with human dignity.

I am a woman. Whereas some men can work for lofty ideals and goals for their countries, or cultures and can choose willingly to sacrifice their personal happiness or fulfillment, I as a woman cannot do that. I have politely asked that such demands not placed on me.

The personal is not selfish. The personal grounds us and keeps our feet in our solid lives.

Therefore,

if I say I work for the Chinese culture, am I allowed to have my personal happiness?

If I say I work for the Chinese culture  and for the United States culture, am I allowed to have my personal happiness?

If I say I work for the human world, for the world, am I allowed to have my personal happiness?

If I say I work for myself, am I allowed to have my personal happiness?

If I say I work to improve cross-cultural understanding and interactions, am I allowed to have my personal happiness?

The lofty and the daily have to go together.

The abstract and the concrete must go together.

That, according to many first-rate writers, is also the secret key to artistic creation.

Therefore, my carefully considered answer might be: for One and Many.

I have the freedom to choose which one I work for and which group(s) I work for.

Can I receive a “passable” grade for this answer?

All Rights Reserved, Xianfeng Mou, March 17, 2011.

Sometimes people who feel they are compelled to write is to be pitied, I think so, because they do not have any choice, under the circumstances. They are driven to write, to speak, to sing, to paint, to create. Any one who might be regarded an artist is helpless when that desire drives them.

I am just a regular person, never even entertaining the idea of becoming this or that. I was only writing a project that every phd student must finish to earn their degree to be able to graduate.

I have still felt compelled to write that particular project. Nowadays I even forgot why I started it in the first place, how I carried it through despite those now monumental barriers. What great messages do I have to tell? None. I consider my ideas so natural so reasonable that I am surprised they should be regarded as being special.

Aren’t they supposed to be always like that?

Apparently not, later I have learned. Lots of things in life do not follow “the supposed.” Human beings are vastly different. What is natural to one man becomes what is grotesque to another human being. What is natural to one human being becomes undecipherable to another.

But it is a good thing that after September 16, 2010, after I finished writing my journal article on Eudora Welty’s The Golden Apples, I no longer feel the urge to write or say anything that is worth listening to.

I consider it a good thing.

It would be a disaster for someone who wants to be a writer. They would pray to Muse to grant them the inspiration to write another great piece of art.

I will most probably stay with teaching. I do not know what kind of teaching, but I think I do a fairly good job at teaching. Truth be told, I had thought I was not born to become a teacher. I always like to do things myself. My naive objection against teaching was the effect of your work has to be permeated through your students, other people, and that I consider the most difficult part of teaching. It is not enough you know how to do something well, you have to motivate others to love and do what you love and do, to reach a high goal you want to set.

Motivating others is the hardest job under the sun. Motivating yourself is already difficult enough.

That is why great teachers should be respected.

I really respect my American Lit Professor. He can pass on his enthusiasm, so that you feel you will love literature as much as he does.

I always think some people are born to be teachers. I believe we were born to excel at one thing and we should be allowed to do that as a career.

I once had a roommate when I studied at China Foreign Affairs College. She has a friend who studied at Beijing Foreign Studies University. The strange thing is I have never met that friend of hers. She did some research on the legend of the Cowherd Boy and the Weaving Maid, and her research carried her to Japan, for she believed Japan had some connections or a variation of the Chinese legend regarding the Cowherd Boy and the Weaving Maid.

According to my roommate, her friend is a very quiet person in everyday life. But whenever that friend of hers stands in front of the blackboard, she suddenly transforms into a different person, full of energy and vitality. And her students love her.

Back then, I thought to myself: That friend of hers was born to be a teacher.

So, today, when I am faced the challenge of finding myself a career, I keep asking myself what was I born to do?

I only knew I wasn’t born to teach the Chinese language in a U.S. university. I am never going to take that as my lifelong career, even if somebody puts a gun to my head and tells me they will kill me if I do not choose teaching the Chinese language in a U.S. university, I will probably still reply, “I am sorry, Sir. I was not born to teach the Chinese language in a leading U.S. university. Can I do something else, please? Or if not, can I return to China and do something else as my lifelong career?”

Should I be killed for not wanting to teach basic Chinese language in, say, Princeton University or Harvard University?

All Rights Reserved. Xianfeng Mou, 3.13.2011 7:47pm

Another thing I haven’t forgotten is the reason why the fight against that woman has to go on. I almost died on her hands while working in Foreign Languages and Literatures. She has been the direct reason behind that.

That is also the indirect reason why I could not easily forgive the man, not even when he claimed the victim position that he was duped by the vicious woman. I know she is vicious. I have full knowledge of her evil workings.

The fact that he was bitten on his heels has made it even harder for me to accept that he might be facilitating her stealing of my identity and her destruction of my reputation and credibility.

I just received a letter from American Express, after I sent the company my Identity Theft Affidavit, indicating it was not proper for them to unilaterally  terminate my good-standing account, citing groundless reasons such as student loans or delinquent health bills. In my 36 plus years, I have never had one yuan or one dollar of student loan. And I have never had health bills that I could not pay.

It was a result of that woman, Peirui Su, stealing my identity. She might have health bills that she did not pay. In fact, ever a few days ago, she was still stealing my health insurance information, such as my account number, so as to fake my identity and go to visit physicians, and transfer the bills and cost onto my head.

It is infuriating and humiliating. Who knows what kinds of diseases she has contracted? She is rather brave in adult adventures. I take special care of not engaging those high-risk activities. You have to be sure someone is healthy in many aspects before you go blindly with those kind of things.

A man must have proof of intention to marry to be eligible. I have very many conditions.

It is not enough to hear “I like you;” or “I like you a lot.”

A man says, “I am not marrying.” You’d better leave him alone, if you are seriously-minded.  Easy women do not belong to this category.

If you are not marrying, why do you jump in and out of my life like that, generating hurricanes and leaving a trail of wreckage behind?

I am seriously-minded. I have my divorce papers ready, translated and notarized, completely official and valid.

Show me your papers and documents. Then we can talk.

I have worked so hard that I worry I might have a hard time when I think about having a child.

Or to be more accurate: I have been “made” to work so hard that I worry I might have a hard time when I think about having a child.

I must have both the inside and the outside. Otherwise, it is a no-no.

Why should I compromise? I compromise on certain things, but I do not compromise on having a little bit of this, a little bit of that. I do not compromise my identity. No other woman is allowed to sleep under my quilt. Once I smell something fishy, I spare no efforts in driving them out of my life.

It is my bed. No other woman is allowed to sleep on it. It is my quilt, no other woman is allowed to sleep under it.

That woman might be contriving to get my queen-sized bed. I have had used it for many years. I want new, bigger ones.

Who likes to live in a reduced state? One’s life must get better and better, not worse and worse. I have worked so hard to make an impeccable records so that some day I do not have to work that hard. I can enjoy what is lawfully and legally mine. I am not letting thieves easily steal everything away from me.

That is not acceptable!

What I could not understand is the two should have joined forces to fight that evil. How come the evil has sundered them off and has taken advantage of both instead?

I have talked and talked. I have reported and reported. I have no choice but to fight the evil myself. Every word has fallen on deaf ears.

Maybe people refuse to see or to hear.

That is enough.

But what concerns me is I still need to fight that evil woman. The evil woman has contrived and managed to steal everything that is mine, including my identity.

No one believes me even though I have been talking to police officers and government agents in any organization that I could think of.

So, I realize in most instances in life, you really have to go it alone. If not, what would the result be? Since that woman by the name of Peirui Su has been stealing my identity for four entire years, doing it step by step, I have to fight her, basically by myself.

Others do not even believe me. How could I expect them, or ask them, to lend me a hand to my fight?

I have done everything I could. I need a vacation.

Isn’t it a little bit too early?

**

What is the use of me going to ask him? He is always helping the one who has been faking and lying.

What is the use?

I was like Xianglin’s wife, keeping telling others I have never thought the woman could be so vicious as to stealing my entire identity! It is a life I have built for thirty years!!!

Does anybody have any idea what that means? Their one small mistake should not take my entire life to cover. What’s more, many Americans make that kind of mistakes. They even regard that as adding to their glory.

Why should they use my entire life and sacrifice my entire life?

**

It is one thing to steal somebody’s money.

It is one thing to steal one article.

It is one thing to steal four years of someone’s life.

It is completely another to steal 30 years of someone’s life. And it is my life, a life I have built with so many impeccable records!!!

**

It is so easy for others to say “better laugh it off,” “be a better person.”

Nowhere you go you can simply take another person’s life and steal it. Just that simple.

**

It is not over,

Until I die.

**

I see the prophecy, my version.

Not anybody else’s version.

**

They cannot be that perfect when they steal my records.

I must have more money. I know I can.

What the heck of taking things and opportunities out of my hands?

**

I want to buy all the CDs of Sarah Brightman has produced. So far, she is the only one whose music does not bore me easily.

I have lived through many people in my life. I have also lived through many artists. Some I go and revisit them from time to time, but often I move from one to another. The artists must have staying power to make you go back to them from time to time. The majority does not have that magical staying power, so you pass through them.

Music influences one so subtly yet so strongly. One has to be grateful that no matter what we have lots of musicians and artists that we can choose to love. In a naive way, I tend to think their artistic power does not come from themselves. What I mean is it is something pre-given. It might have a lot to do with life experience. But inspirations do not. So, it is kind of magical. Either an artist has it, got it, or an artist does not. Nobody is even entitled to argue about it. Therefore, it does not make sense for someone to hiss angrily that a brilliant idea should have befallen onto their head because they have read more books, or they have been immersed in artistic ambience all their life. It simply does not make sense that such an idea should have occurred to a plain potato.

The potato may be plain to them. The potato may be quite remarkable to many others.

IF THEY CAN ARGUE OR FIGHT WITH THE HIGHER POWER, GO AHEAD AND DO IT.

JUST DO NOT TAKE THIER UNREASONABLE ANGER OUT ON THE “PLAIN” POTATO.

They do not know all the answers to all the questions in the world.

**

I like Sarah Brightman because she is very philosophical. I use the word in good sense. I mean her music is not shallow. I am terrified by superficial things nowadays, especially after what I have seen and experienced in recent years.

Shallowness is perhaps the biggest vice in the world.

Before terrifying shallowness, even profound drunkenness becomes relatively acceptable.

This is perhaps the reason that I absolutely cannot tolerate someone wearing my clothes. I could give a friend an article, because she has helped me during a time when I need it the most. I would not blink at it. But I absolutely cannot tolerate another person stealing into my place and wearing my clothes showing their face everywhere pretending to be me.

It is such an offense! It is not the clothes that they are defiling. They are targeting at defiling my image and my reputation. When they wear my clothes and do those unmentionable things in places of questionable names, it is like they have forced that layer of existence onto me. Then they bring my clothes back.

It is not what shows on the surface that is important. It is the underlying meaning that is driven at. It is what I feel about myself and how those impersonators and those who encourage the impersonators to act this way intend to make me feel outweighs.

The world is large. There are many places one can go.

Many people kill themselves and kill others in their attempt to stay.

Life is not that fabulous.

When you look into it, the glory is pretty empty and wretched.

But what about no glory? It is even worse than “empty and wretched.”

Now, please do not fault me for saying those unholy words. I speak from experience. Nowadays whenever I speak, I always look whether I have evidence to back me up. Without sufficient evidence,  I do not speak at all. Silence may be a wiser choice.

What is my evidence, you may ask?

Well, it is this: I have produced a dissertation, which seems to be very good according to quite a few experts. In fact, the dissertation, once it is finished, seems to have vanished before my eyes.

I should have my fair share of glory and economic benefits out of my “above-given” inspiration and good old solid hard work. Don’t you think?

Far from it. First, during its writing process, not a few people, those who like to try their best to search for a speck in other people’s eyes instead of their own, have spared no efforts to defile it, twist it, and criticize it beyond normal human standards.

I have no problem with honest, even cutting intellectual debate. For every question and doubt raised, I did my best to answer them or address them. I believe I did my best. If there are questions I still haven’t addressed, I appealed to my scope and my limited power within limited time and resources. If I have only set up the task of writing three generations of American and Chinese women writers, it does not make sense if someone comes in to pick a fight with me saying: why don’t include British women writers in? Why don’t you include earlier writers or later writers in? Why don’t you include male writers in? All these questions are very good questions, but they are not my concern. I have already marked the task that I would undertake, more than that I am throwing away.

So be it.

The second group of people find fault with my writing. It is not academic enough. It is not rigorous enough. It is not well-tightened. It is too long. It is this… It is that.

All because there is an underlying sense of jealousy.

So be it.

The third group play more dirtier games. They attack me the writer, so as to indirectly attack my writing. Or since they cannot attack, without making others smile at their attacks, they resort to assassin my character.

So be it.

There are also a group who carry their unique heritage to this new environment. By unique here, I use it not in a so nice way. They play political games. They try to brand me as “dangerous communists” in this non-communist environment. Some even offers up the allegation of me being a government agent for the home country. Some even offers more ridiculous allegations so as to place me between the Chinese Mainland and the island of Taiwan. So on and so forth.

Some from the Chinese soil resort to other political frame-ups. If I say “a woman’s mind is colonized by her husband’s ideas or her father’s ideas,” everyone who knows a smattering of English knows I mean the woman always does what others tell her to do. She cannot make decisions herself and think her own thoughts. It does not mean the woman is politically colonized by her husband, or her father, or her son, or another culture. It is a metaphorical expression. This kind of writing is the backbones of literary studies.

Aren’t they afraid of others laughing at their shallow political frame-ups when they pick on my use of a word?

What is more ridiculous about these political frame-ups is while on the surface they are attacking me ruthlessly, underneath it all they have been secretly stealing my intellectual property, including of course my dissertation files, my term papers, and my teaching files over the years, from 2006 when they started their well-thought plan to attack and discredit me till this very moment.

And one of my attackers has in fact completely stolen my identity. They have nothing to show others for all these years of their phd study. What is the best way to solve this, after all their sexing, cheating, wining, gaming, dancing, and pleasure-trip making. They need solid stuff to lift them to a good job. And where to find their fig leaves except stealing from me, obviously or not so obviously?

What right do they have to make ME feel small? Not in a million years!

I know the truth.

I respect those who can say what the dissertation is as what it is. These are genuine academic people. They do not need to take those games to cover something they do not want others to know about themselves. And this is the role I want to be seen. All other roles do not mean anything to me.

I am an academic professional. And that is how I want to be looked at. As to beautiful or not, or how much beauty has played into it,  I can tell every doubter categorically I do not reach my position on my looks. My looks may be good, or very good, or extremely good, depending on who is looking, but they are my extra cards.

I do not let other things get in the way, either. Many people are trumping out the rich or not so rich card, the American and the non-American card, the city and the supposed non-city card. All these talk is pure rubbish. They grate on my ears. And they dirty my ears.

You judge what I am by what I do, what I achieve, and how I behave myself. Nobody has the right to dig 18 generations back into my family history in order to see whether I come from a lustrous family or not.

What is the use of a lustrous family in the past but who is dirt poor today? You cannot eat bread on your lustrous old name. What I am concerned to live for the present and for the future. If I can change things for the better, I do it. If I cannot, they will remain the same. If I cannot live the life I want, I have the choice of leaving. I am not a very old tree that cannot be moved now.

I can take my stuff and go anywhere, anytime.

I am not being selfish in desiring to leave. Nobody can leave with a discontented woman. I do not want to change into a discontented woman and argue with everyone and find fault with everyone around. But I am dissatisfied with how so little this place offers.

Tow days ago, I suddenly learned something new about myself. I received my diploma in May 2009, after much fighting that was. I had always wanted to graduate in 2007. Five years for a phd is enough. But there was a hurdle I simply could not surpass. The hurdle said seven years, then seven years it had to be.

I had considered it so insulting for me to finish this damn phd in seven years. It is an insult to my intelligence, and it is also an insult to the professional credentials I accumulated before I commenced this phd thing.

That was the rigid protocol everybody else had been through. I was no exception.

But one has to judge case by case. Throwing two groups of students together into the same phd program, one group does not started as English majors. In fact, some of them do not even have Bachelor’s degrees, let alone Bachelor’s degrees in the English major, or they have fuzzy Bachelor’s degrees. Another group not only had Bachelor’s degrees in English, but solid ones, too. Not only that, they also have Master’s degrees in English and literature and writing. Not only that, they have around five years of experience editing and translating literatures, with very high standards.

Are people telling me these two groups of students should go through the same phd program at the same speed and at the same level? Are such people thinking with their feet or their head?

These two groups cannot compare against each other. They have to go their separate ways.

If I did not choose to graduate in 2009, but in 2007, as I had wished, it still leaves me very dissatisfied. I have to choose between a Limited term lecturer for three years and graduate in five years, and the option of graduating in seven years and being one year of limited term lecturer. Either way, it is a lousy deal.

Lousy it is.

I have to be consulted when arrangements of my own life are made. I am not that kind of woman who leaves every decision for a man to make. In fact, part of my misery comes from my habit of making every decision myself in my life before my phd started. Before this, I would love someone more knowledgeable to make decisions or at least act as consultant when I had to make big decisions. There was no one except when I went to college and had some close friends. Even among college friends, I do not have many close ones. It is my life habit to keep people at arm’s length.

Nobody can change a person who always makes her own decisions suddenly into a brainless or brain-deal doll. I refuse to be changed into that direction.

I keep on thinking more and more.

I seldom quarrel with others. I haven’t grown used to some people’s disposition towards arguing. You know for certain professions, such as lawyers and teachers, many do rely on making good arguments to make their mark. But good arguments are not sophistry. I dislike splitting hairs into a million strands simply to make an argument. I believe when you speak, you have to speak with real solid ideas and understanding.

It is not in my nature to pick quarrels or to start a fight. I am not such nuisances.

But such nuisances like to pick quarrels with me. And their behavior is abhorring.

If you haven’t lived around such nuisances, you absolutely have no idea how disgusting they are. Their life is at best miserable. So they set out to make everyone’s life miserable, anyone who happens to live or work around them. They are like poison that a witch throws into a pot of quality soup. The soup becomes completely undrinkable.

Do not mistaken me this time that I am only talking metaphorically. I am talking both metaphorically and literally. Such nuisances have literally and consistently poured or used poison onto my clothes, my shoes, and into my food. The poison comes in various forms. It can be a poisonous bug; it can be poisonous plant such as poison ivy; or it can be deadly chemical virus. Poison ivy makes you very painful, for it works on your nerve. Someone once used it on the neck of my sweater, so I got it on my neck. Whenever I turned my neck, the pain would shoot into my head. It did not subside in two weeks.

Another time, it was deadly virus poured onto my slippers. They produced blisters deep into my feet. The blisters resemble what you might think as symptoms of athletes’ feet. But they are more painful; more widespread in your feet; and they hurt more. You at most itch considerably on athletes’ feet. But you do not have to endure that sharp pain. After they poured the virus onto my slippers, for more than two weeks, I had to literally carry my feet in my hands. I used medication for fugus, but it did not work. Finally remembered my terror-filled experience with poison ivy, thinking they might come from the same source out of the same reason, I used allergic medication. And it worked. After about three weeks, my feet healed from the chemical weapon attack.

My healed feet do not show one sign of having been infected by athletes’ feet fugus.

Such attacks are in essence terror attacks. We can say they are terrorist in nature.

I do not know who hates me so much as to carry out so many chemical attacks against me. I know certain women are vicious like witches. But sometimes I also doubt my conjectures. If the women act this way, they have someone operating on the backstage. The women had to have sanction to do what they wanted.

Terror must be condemned; those who commit acts of terror must be condemned; and those who acquiescence to such terrorist acts must be condemned. I forgive none.

Wait when the higher power speaks.

I have never purposefully hurt anyone in my life. If some have broken their heart over me, they do it themselves. Some do not agree to my proposition; Some do not even mention it; some simply throw it away. If they end up miserable, why should they put the blame on me? They each have made their own choices. I am only responsible for my own choices. I am not responsible for other people’s choices, especially when they are stupid choices.

My life is rather heavy for me to carry already. I do not need to take on or being forced to take on extra weight. I throw it off. If anybody has copied a free ride, I am determined to throw them off my back and make them pay.

I am extremely nice. But I can be very un-nice when some purposefully take advantage of me, or even bully me. When it is time to pay, do not complain the price is too hefty.

See any thief dares to come and steal my credentials? I am stomping them to hell.

I have worked untirelessly for thirty-years for my academic credentials. They want to steal everything that is mine in four years? They should have asked whether I agree or not.

I am going to get them. Do not cry when the fall turns out too hard. They are pre-warned.

I have worked untirelessly for my dissertation, pouring everything I have, even drawing upon the energy that is beyond me, to finish it. Now some women are simply sleeping or stealing and wanted to take parts of my dissertation as theirs?Not in a million years. I will go to highest authority within the country to get my case resolved.

It is mine, and right so. Do not think of coming in to bite chunks out of it. It is my brain child, and nobody is putting their dirty fingers onto it. I said so.

I have worked hard towards the benefits that are rightfully mine. No thief is going to be allowed to steal them from me.

My rainbow is not as cheap as less than 9,000 dollars per year. I am not that cheap. In fact, I am very expensive.

I have been thinking about lots of things.

Basically speaking, I tend to get what I want, because I want the right thing. I keep throwing out the stuff that makes me dissatisfied.

I constantly change what I want. For one rule of thumb, you always start from the best, not from the lousiest among a group of choices.

If you do not start from the best, how do you know how far you can go?

Just like submitting articles, when I know they are darn good, I submit them to very respectable journals. I believe they deserve the journals because I have done my homework. I have done extensive research to know I can reach those journals. So, why not?

You must start from the best. When it has been proven rock and solid, then you would not become dissatisfied with the second best. You have tried.

It is never my policy to start from less the best. I was dissatisfied with my undergrad colleges. The teachers, as a rule, get bonus for the sheer number of college-admitted students. It does not make much of difference when come colleges are first rate, while others are never-be’s or less known. So teachers try their best to hammer down students’ expectations.

There are cases where some students would choose no college except the only one, the best within the country, and leave all other choices empty. Some of such students purposely get punished by some teachers who are not as confident as the students. The students get punished.

I will never punish such students. They should be allowed to reach what they can reach. Only the sky is the limit. The simply reason is a teacher is the one who opens doors. When some teachers do nothing but close doors, such teachers should be thrown away, immediately.

Life is a becoming. Life is not a being. That comes from the English passage that I had to translate when I took my Master’s exam to China Foreign Affairs University, then still a college. The meaning is the same, if not the wording.

One should believe in oneself. And it is sheer stupidity to limit your own expectations, because life is full of limitations already.

Education is not buying tomatoes from venders or super markets. Some people always look for the cheapest price. In education they look for the lowest common denominator.

I want what I want. I throw away what I do not want.

It is not a snake’s business to encircle itself around a tree of blossoming plum flowers. The two do not go together. It should get some self-knowledge and slither away if it wants to live. Otherwise, when some people come near to appreciate the beauty of the flowers, they would become angry and decide to beat the snake to death.

The snake’s presence has defiled the beauty of the flowers.

It also feels nice to win masters over.

It is quite addictive, too.

Pause when you need to. I am never for working like a slave or a workaholic. A workaholic is a slave. Perhaps they do not know what to do if they are not working. Maybe some of workaholics do not know how to face themselves. Very much like some social flowers or social butterflies. Have more time to kill, in a sense.

Oh, I got to have something hot.

Where shall I put my important papers? So many are intrigued, rightly or not.

People do not like to hear real words, so I wisely learned to stop saying them. I can oil someone real good if I want to. It is in my nature to make people feel good.

Here is the proof they have wanted. A fragment of it, of course. I have got my legal freedom by May 2007. The document arrived at me by December, 2007, I think.

Pay attention to the embossed seal of the notary as well as the ink seal on the back of the document.

Hope some people are satisfied. By the way, the document is protected by copyright, mine and the one who helped me.

Today’s date happens to be 6.16.2010.

I Have My Freedom, to act honorably.