My gray matter isn’t graying well into this age of so many shades of gray.
So I break laws (take my mother’s estrogen patches) and defy the universe to even try to fuck with me again on that lame old score (breast cancer).
Cause that bitch done already been paid over and over and over again. In a million different ways. She owes ME at this point. Besides, she wouldn’t recognize me anymore.
Why? Oddly enough and without trying, I think I’ve mastered [and all inaccuracies and ignorances are mine here, especially since I’ve never read it] “the subtle art of not giving a fuck.”
Isn’t it a little presumptuous of anyone to assume ANY of us will be here tonight, tomorrow, or 3 months from now? In fact, I nearly laughed out loud just now making a 3-month follow-up appointment with my migraine doctor.
I don’t know what kind of/if any philosophy my views might reflect. I only know this is how I feel/what I think: who knows, I’m always getting the two confused, anyway.
At least this is what I feel-think today. That could change tomorrow. I can’t commit to much of anything at this point, you see. So I’m sorry/not sorry. You’ll just have to deal with it.
What does this look like, practically speaking? I can (of course) only speak for myself. But…
I do stupid things like: I go off and leave personal belongings at the doctor’s office, then have to drive THE WHOLE WAY BACK to retrieve them. Yeah…why weren’t they the kind of personal belongings I wouldn’t have been allowed to exit the building without? If I’d left my mask, I know I wouldn’t have gotten far.
I’ve also become a terrible judge of character, turning Ignorant Assholes into Prince Charmings with NO DATA WHATSOEVER TO SUPPORT THESE CONCLUSIONS!!
Thank goodness I seem capable from learning from my mistakes in that department. This week at least.
I sing karaoke too much, smoke weed too much, forget to feed myself, refuse to clean my room, and spend far too much of my discretionary income on my hair [because I intend to look good for the duration].
Maybe I’m a little fixated on my hair because I’m so glad it grew back? I don’t know if this theory holds water because I also spend money on my sexy fake fingernails.
So… no news to you, my friends, but I’m not being particularly responsible these days. [Visitors: don’t get excited thinking you’re going to scam me; I’m not a sucker anymore, sucker – and even when I was, you couldn’t squeeze me.]
For my subscribers, who have suffered through at least one of my posts, we need to collectively face reality: I suck at karaoke. Yes, it’s true and I know it’s true. Y’all are just being sweet, but I know I suck.
Yet… I still don’t care!! Maybe because there’s no one left to embarrass but my mom, and no one would dare inform her of her adult daughter’s colossal lapses in judgment (out of respect for my mom).
I don’t know if it’s the weed or an existential crisis or even a POST-existential crisis. I only know I’m both a Total Flake and an Utter Mess.
At least that’s the look I’m shooting for.
How am I doing?
You kept me on a heavy, tight leash my entire life.
I bear the deep scars around my neck to prove it.
Of course they healed over after I gave up,
no longer bucking against your imprisonment.
By confining me early, you confined me for life;
or at least long after you broke me.
You didn’t break me, though, did you?
I learned to venture out and live again.
I still bear the scars, but I finally escaped when you turned away.
Now I’m bouncing back high, higher, highest…
weightless to the point of cresting Heaven itself.
Any second now; I’m so close,
I can almost feel it…
This is “It” and I at our absolutely most annoying, irritating, and obnoxious. And our most intoxicated (to the point of forgetting we were recording at multiple times during the evening).
Yeah, I wouldn’t introduce me to your kids, either! I’m a terrible influence on everyone around me. And It is just as bad – if not WORSE‼️
Only if you like eavesdropping on two people who can’t keep their mouths shut for more than ten seconds could you even potentially find this video entertaining…
P.S. It [the video] has a false finish, like all of my favorite karaoke songs. This one’s not over until we’re finally “parched.”
Until you’ve met my ghosts in person, would you please quit seeing the Devil?
On our best behavior at this point...
You can judge me any day of the week
Because you [at least] know my heart
Even better than I do.
You and you alone have the right
As well as my wholehearted permission.
So during your inspection of me,
Should you find any fault:
[And you most certainly will]
I know that you’ll forgive me.
Because if you love anyone,
Anyone at all,
You love me.
Just when I think I’m charred to the bone with no flesh left…
You show up with a blow torch to prove me wrong.
Bucking and conforming and bucking and conforming…. Where does moderation and compromise live? Not in this vessel…. Her life is an everlasting paradox clothed in human flesh.
The ones on my knees, when I was pleading with you to let the baby stay?
The relentless, always-in-pursuit-but-unable-to-escape guilt?
The kind I couldn’t exorcise, no matter how I tried?
The feeling like less than a slug for decades?
I think it was “dirty menstrual rags” you equated my beauty to?
The believing I had only to speak the words and have the faith of a child to make my dreams come to pass?
The dreams which never, EVER came to pass?
Even when I was a child (therefore having the “faith of a child”)?
If it was in your sovereign will for me?
Without ever telling me what your sovereign will for me was in the first place?
Well, it never did me an ounce of good.
So, thanks for that kindness, too.
If you’d been a plain old debased human, I would’ve cut you off years ago.
Then again, I happen to have a fondness for brokenness.
I don’t get all mad and wrathful trying to beat the sin out of the sinners you so brilliantly and beautifully designed.
So: your goodness and mercy never cease to let me down.
If you’re as omniscient as you claim, I’ll assume you picked up on the sarcasm in my last sentence.
If not: go ahead and insert dark, jaded, broken-down, angry, disappointed, soul-crushed sarcasm all throughout the fabric of my last 3 posts.
I think it’s obvious, but:
I’m pretty sure, if you even do exist, you stopped caring about what we humans had to say centuries ago.
We haven’t killed enough people in your name lately, so I guess you moved on to angrier people.
That was your mistake.
Because I’m probably the Angriest Bitch you’ll come across for a long time.
In fact, I’m so angry, if you had the guts to face me:
I’d probably kill you myself.
If you weren’t already dead.
[At least to me]
In your Absolute Sovereignty,
Did you allow us NO sovereignty to help allay the constant suffering which marks the human condition?
While subsequently labeling any “human pleasures” which allay that suffering as
SIN-full and EVIL?
I played by your rules my Whole Fucking Life.
I’m just mad about all the years I wasted.
In fact, I’m:
Really fucking pissed off.
Why in Heaven’s Name did you decide to make us human if you’re going to consign us to ten eternities in hell for simply being human?
The logic evades me. But I’m a thorough louse for even asking. Right? I know: more shame on me.
I think the yearning for romantic love is all about wanting… hoping… to the point of desperation… for a “perfect” person to somehow complete “imperfect” us.
It’s total bullshit.
My skin has been burned off.
I feel so free.
Why does my heart bleed for teenagers when I never had any of my own? I try to give them (probably misguided) advice – see my reply to a young girl’s comment. I know: wisdom from the woman known as Karaoke Konnection on YouTube. It’s laughable.
Then, please tell me if it’s misguided. Because I really need to know. It’s profoundly, remarkably, achingly important to me that my words never damage these young people. I want them to excel and to thrive and to keep Humanity alive!
More than anything…
I’m 54, and I feel like you’re telling my story. I know it feels like your father has betrayed all of you (because he did) and everything that once seemed so certain now seems terribly uncertain. And you don’t even get to be mad because you’re being such a little adult, keeping up your end of the deal, while the adults are abandoning their roles as if they never existed in the first place. I’m so sorry that the pressure has fallen on you during this time. My only advice for all of you teenagers who are hurting now is:
Please never bury the real and unique you that burns inside. You know your dreams and your passions and your heart in a way no other person does. Your circumstances will change frequently throughout your life, but your essence, your personhood, won’t. Please don’t EVER bury yourselves so much in your efforts to make others happy that you extinguish the beautiful flame that burns in each one of you❣️
P.S. Tell your parents a lady older than them said so‼️
I let you control my choices long after you quit trying.
I think it’s because you were always 6’5” and I was always 4 years old.
I was terrified of letting you down.
I really only wanted you to like me and not wish I’d never been born.
Because that’s how I felt my entire life.
And I loved you so much, when you told me to jump, I asked how high.
When you said “You don’t get points for trying,” I asked you what GPA proved I was trying.
When, before I left for graduate school at 22 and came into your office (while you were practicing your golf swing on the oriental rug) for advice, you told me (without looking up from your shot):
“You’re the most self-centered person I’ve ever met in my entire life, Jennifer. You begin every sentence with the word ‘I’”.
I didn’t tell you this at the time, but mother’s third husband made my life a living hell with his dogmatic religious statements.
And your second wife insisted Stephanie and I get “therapy” as little girls from those “I’m okay-you’re okay” weirdos we had to see in the late 70s.
Where they taught us to use “I” statements.
And the last thing I wanted was to sound dogmatic when I was asking for advice before I left “home.”
You shattered my heart into a million tiny shards by the way you did or did not acknowledge my presence at the breakfast table during my times in your house.
Multiied by our 30 shared experiences in 53 years.
All I wanted was for you to love me, to see me, to call me your “daughter,” to like me (not as much as your other kids, of course, but just a little).
The biggest hurt of all?
You had to die for me to experience an iota (one of your favorite words) of peace.
Today, Thanksgiving, it’s horrible and evil of me, but I’m most grateful that you’re dead.
And I’m terrified that the truth of this makes me thoroughly irredeemable.
What girl hates and loves her father so much?
You’re right, it was all my fault. I tried and tried and TRIED, but I always failed. If I’d been better, maybe I would’ve been worth talking with instead of at?
Probably not, though.
Do they at least serve turkey with all the trimmings in Hell?
You don’t have to be cool to be my boy,
You don’t have to be dumb to be my toy.
Ain’t no particular sign I’m more compatible with
I just want your extra time in your kiss.
You don't have to be rich to be my guy
You don't have to be tall to hang my sky*
(light my sky?)*
(night my sky?)
(bright my sky?)
(bright my night?)
(make me sigh?)*
(fly me high?)*
(fly my sky?)*
(lift me high?)*
(lots that end in “thighs,” but I'm shooting for romantic here...)
(is “star my sky” too much?)
*my personal favorites
This is serious business, friends❣️ I’m preparing for my next Karaoke performance!! I’m looking for perfection, so please weigh in❣️ I’ll show you the proof, so if the words aren’t right, it’s not all on me.
P.S. Happy Thanksgiving to all of you. For each and every one of you who’s ever read a single one of my posts, this year my greatest and most gratifying gift is YOU❣️
The real reason I love Karaoke so much?
Most of the songs are from the early ‘80s, when I was a very young teenager.
I don’t know if my brain was in an “imprinting” cycle, but it amazes me when lyrics of songs from this period tumble out of me when I hear that song audibly.
This experience is especially profound when I hear a song I haven’t heard in decades.
The jolt back to the years when I felt most alive is why I’m so besotted with my beloved Karaoke.
The day before Thanksgiving, all my lightness is gone.
Desiree came and pulled me back to hell.
Not that she knows the way; only I do.