Teenagers‼️

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…

Please Watch if You Love a Teenager

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‼️

WORD ALERT MALFUNCTION‼️

Apparently I’m as “out of touch” as ever!

My friend Robi told me I had been using the term “Millennial” incorrectly all this time.

I thought it meant “people born after the Millenium,” aka: anyone 21 and under.

Though Robi couldn’t tell me what a Millennial actually is (”older” was his one-word explanation), could you save me the effort of having to go back and swap out “Millenials” for “teenagers” and just retrofit all of my comments about them in your brains?

And could someone do me a solid and let me know what people born after 2000 are called?

I make a big enough ass out of myself without “Semantics issues” increasing my public humiliation.

Thank you in advance❣️

[Thank you Sigmund for the use of your photograph].❤️

Sexual Molestation at Your Local Neighborhood K-Mart

“I frigging love this❣️ I don’t know why we insist on only using “lovely” and “lavish” language in poetry. Poetry should reflect life, an observation you and only you are equipped to make. So if I didn’t already say it: I love it!”

This was the comment I made on the poem Your Design by Kait King. I’m linking it, not because I have any exposure to offer Kait [she’s a professional, and I’m not], but because I obviously like what she wrote. I can guarantee you that if you like anything I’ve written, you’ll feel the taut determination of justice in this piece. It’s also important for you to read it for us to move forward. So please, 30 seconds:

https://kaitkingthewriter.blog/2021/11/15/your-design/

Okay, you’ve read it. I want to link a poem I wrote about a murdered child after binge-watching true crime videos on YouTube. Please do me the honor of reading it. I believe it honors predated children by shining a light on their predators. And again, it’s necessary to proceed with this.

https://comewordplaywithme.com/2021/09/23/a-child-cries-unheard/

I know: it’s not a light read. I didn’t know it at the time, but I’m starting to realize that my more imaginative writings have a way of amplifying my inner voice. I don’t know if that requires elaboration (which is a bad sign at this point), but I’ll try:

The week I wrote that poem, my first-ever (of 2) based on lyrical patterns in songs I particularly like, I was thinking a lot about the time I was “sexually molested” (I don’t even know the term for it anymore) as a 6-year-old in a K-Mart in Atlanta, Georgia.

Those were different times and I don’t blame my mom that this happened. She didn’t even know about it until I told her years later. It was during the summer, and every time we went to the store, my mom had to “struggle” all five of us “summer siblings” into an impossibly-small car. Seriously, there were no Tahoes in the ‘70s! I don’t even know how we got to the store in the first place, I just…don’t. I only know that as soon as the car officially came to a stop, children and adults had dispersed and were on their ways to their own favorite dark corners of the store.

Of course, I was the child who made a bee-line for the Toy Section…because that’s where the Barbies were. And I adored Barbie, Skipper, PJ, Ken, and their “Malibu” cousins. All I wanted whenever I had a birthday was a Barbie. And if I didn’t have enough birthday money saved, I’d buy barbies clothes instead. I had a large vinyl box that held all of my barbies and all of their clothes and accessories. I had a mental inventory of every single item in that box.

So I didn’t see the old man near the toy section until I was next to him, separated by an aisle that was about 3 feet high (I’m not very good with height and depth perception). I just remember looking (up?) to see an old (because he’s bald, like my Grandaddy), nice (because again, he looks like my Grandaddy, and Grandaddy loves me) Man standing there.

Who looked DOWN at me and said Come Here, Little Girl.”

He must need my help, because Grandaddy only ever tells me to do something in that mean kind of way if it’s an emergency. So he must need my help. And you’re not supposed to not mind your parents or grandparents, especially when you and your mommy and sister used to live with your grandparents. Since your Daddy didn’t live with you anymore.

Now you only know that your new Daddy Mike says it’s very important to mind grownups, and you’re a good girl. Maybe your older sister Stephanie isn’t, but you are.

So you go to help, and the nice old man tells you he has an emergency (good thing you listened!). He describes his emergency as this:

“I have a “pin” stuck in my [this is one thing I don’t remember: the term he used for it] __________,” but it really didn’t matter because he was busy demonstrating with what he was holding in his hand.

He said he needed me to help get the pin out.

I remember I sucked in my breath very quickly, because immediately I knew I was seeing something that I shouldn’t see.

And there wasn’t a “pin” in it, either.

That man, positioned right in front of the toy section, proceeded to shake his grown man’s penis in front of my little girl’s face. Why? Because he got a thrill from trying to crush the Innocence out of a

Little.

Tiny.

Baby.

Girl.

Well, guess what, Cocksucker (because I’m sure if you’re not dead, you’re professionally sucking cock in prison right now):

You’re a sick pedo fuck and you and the rest of your kind with your disgusting shriveled cocks can rot in your own level of hell for ten eternities, alone and with no one to keep you company but each other.

P.S. You didn’t succeed. I refused to let you steal my Innocence.

P.P.S. I know you sick pervs get off on reading shit like this, but as does Kait’s character in Your Design, I want to expose you for the cowardly, crude, contaminated criminal you are.

For My Next Love

Is there room in my life for you?
Is there room in your life for me?
You know I don't come to you pristine, newly minted, or shiny and new.
I have felt hurt and caused hurt,
I have been broken by the random and the cruel - and by my own choices.
My body has been ravaged, charting atrocities visited on it by plague and progress.
Yet you love it - even desire it - all the same.
You don't love what I once was; you love me now, scars and all.
Of this much I am certain: where our lives intersect
There's a special space; a pocket of air, a sea of calm, a place of rest
That quickens the war-torn and restores its vigor.
You've fixed your circle on me:
Rounding out my sharp angles and smoothing the rough edges,
Like a balm against chafing.
Like sand against glass.
All without any intention of "fixing" me.
In answer to this gift, I will fight my baser self to love you back, with honor and devotion. I know myself; know this will surely be a struggle.
But I am committed to it.
And in the giving and receiving, I will be transformed into the beauty visible to your heart's eye.
Thank you. Bless you. I love you.

http://deeporshallowthoughts.blogspot.com/2014/07/for-my-new-husband.html

2014

Jennifer, The Multimedian

My Introductory Post on Instagram:

MY INTENTIONS HERE

I tend to censor myself on Facebook because, in my head, I’m certain “Everyone” thinks I’m having a nervous breakdown when I attempt to express myself creatively. Maybe it’s because my mother and I share 107 Facebook friends? Or because Family Members and many Friends Since 8th Grade are there?
It doesn’t really matter since the problem is my own.

To tackle it, about 3 months ago, I started expressing myself emotionally on a [Wordpress] blog and physically, through Karaoke, on my [YouTube] channel…of 20 wonderful followers❣️

Both have been anonymous enough for me to feel free to put words to (writing)- and then exorcise (publishing)- the vicious lies and hateful slurs I didn’t even realize I was telling myself. Since forever.

I’m incredibly grateful to these social media platforms for helping me to rediscover my voice. By providing me with therapeutic outlets for energy and conversations too long suppressed, they’ve served as my freedom fighters, rescuers, and liberators.

So please, Friends, here on Instagram (where I’m a total newbie): if you know me personally, know my family, or have known me a long time, don’t judge me by the words I write. Sharing openly and honestly is a life-preserving activity for me. If I don’t do it, my body makes cancer. And I really don’t want to die! For the first time in a long time, I want to stick around. I’m having so much fun, and I feel like I have cried enough. I’m getting really tired of these tears, my Friends❣️

Please extend me the benefit of the doubt and don’t make any assumptions from my words. Some of my angriest ones could be directed at a disease or a traumatic experience.

I want and need to be my most authentic self for what’s left of This Journey. Having gotten a taste of it, I want to actually BE Jennifer instead of play her on TV. I just can’t play the “role you never knew I was playing” anymore❣️

#socialmedia #selfexpression #honesty #transparency #authentic #authenticity #facebook #conversation #creativewriting #writerscommunity #writersofinstagram #womensupportingwomen #women #mentalhealth #breastcancer #traumahealing #vulnerability

I Owe You an Apology, Jeff

So, I wrote you a few scathing letters last week, but I think I may be the “me” in this “mea culpa.”

See, I’ve been thinking you were The Head Honcho/The Big Cheese/The “Bill Gates” of Google, YouTube, G-mail, and all other Google apps (yes, that’s you Blogger, refusing to talk to WordPress or vice-versa; I don’t know which of you isn’t playing well with the other.)

Anyway, it just occurred to me today that I was SO WRONG! You’re not the G-note who is responsible for my Current Family-Discord: you’re the A-note!

You just sent me that wireless mouse; the one I purchased expressly because 1) it was wireless and 2) it came with its own doogle.

Only it doesn’t come with it’s own doogle, as both box and product listing proclaim. My now-problem with you, Jeff, is that I was so certain you would never betray me beyond your ability to “un-betray” me, I didn’t bother to open the mousebox for 32 days. Even though lately you’ve been charging me $35 for earbuds and mailing me $2.99 ball caps instead. “Accidentally.” You know, Jeff: I simply abhorr conspiracy theories, but a common thread you find in all of them is: “Look at the Money.” I’ll say “COVID-19” and leave it there. Which also makes me think: “BIG PHARMA.” DISNEY, NETFLIX, SONY.

I’M SORRY, I JUST COULDN’T STOP‼️, Besides, I 💯 % subscribe to the theory that Global Pandemics Deserve Global Providers❣️ So don’t get mad at me when I’m still mad at you, okay?

Global companies for a Global pandemic. But like I said: I don’t believe in conspiracy theories.

Especially since I’ve been dealing with excruciatingly painful dental problems all month. Sending my mouth into the hands of no less than 15 different men and women across the entire San Antonio Metropolitan Area. Including once last week as well as yesterday into the more expensive hands of an oral surgeon (ca-ching!); a former navy seal (ca-double-ching!) who volunteers for Dentists for Humanity (I don’t think I meet the requirements) working on Veterans’ Day (triple-caching!) while paying an assistant administer the “full-sedation package” (a non-negotiable).

So: do I have your attention now, Jeff? Am I speaking in dollars you can finally comprehend?

You see: my 30 Day Nightmare of Dental Torture finally ended yesterday morning, beginning a 10-Month Nightmare of Financial Torture; simply to restore me to simple dental health while simultaneously destroying both my mental and financial health.

Honestly: it’s a tradeoff worthy of serious contemplation. What finally convinced me to Go Large was The Vanity Involved. I can’t imagine living, loving, and being fully human without my trademark winning smile. No, Jeff, not even a man of your Means, Jeans, Teams, Queens, whose Living the Dream can steal that from me! (Kinda “rapt” towards the end there).

The ribbon-cutting procedure to This New Adventure, and hopefully the closing ceremony on The Worst of the Pain was a very expensive, highly unplanned, surgically oral extraction of tooth #19, along with the insertion of a “bone graft” at 10:00am yesterday morning. Thursday.

Veteran’s Day. RIP, #19. Until we get the fake one, it was a pleasure living with you for the first 52 years. I can’t say the same for the last 2.

I guess, Jeff, both my hopes and my fears were realized yesterday. My hopes because I felt “better-enough” to to do some blogging on my old blog, Blogger; which required me to grasp for the Chrome-cast I bought to satisfy Whoever Owns Google, so that I can maintain my YouTube channel with an iota of professionalism).

That Chromecast has a terrible keyboard, Jeff; a fact I never learned from poring over [YOUR] site reviews for tens of hours before I spent hundreds of dollars on the many electronic devices you sold me last month so that I could create content on the apps you gave me for free. Years and years of content ago. But again: I don’t believe in price-fixing or other conspiracy theories.

Sadly, I’ve been in too much dental pain to use these electronic devices very much. Which is why I didn’t get around to opening the wireless mouse until yesterday, after your return window had closed. I wasn’t worried: it’s not like you were Steve Jobs or Jeff Bezos or anything!!

Anyway, after trying to type on the Chromecast “touch-ignore” for 60 seconds, I reached for the mouse.

Only to find my mouse’s doogle had been removed.

If I had wanted a female mouse, Jeff, don’t you think I would have ordered one? If I had a mouse with a doogle, I wouldn’t have purchased the specific make, model, and package I researched with a ruthlessness I’m quite sure would have impressed you

My point here, Jeff, is this: I felt sorry for about 10 seconds since I [technically] “incorrectly” vented about you on my little blog of self-expression, confusing you with the Owner of the G-Men.

But then you went and pissed me off after an expensive, painful dental procedure, and that just wasn’t smart. Especially since I can get so obsessive about the goods and services I tend to stockpile from you. I have been known to seek greener pastures, and combined with my laziness in general, makes me very profitable to you. I suggest you you remember that.

“This is My Story and I’m Sticking to It”

by Just Jennifer

I grew up a conflicted people-pleaser, swapped back and forth between parents. I learned that the only way to be “seen” was to be “good” – because my older sister had already taken the role of “bad” and got yelled at for it. I’ve always been highly adaptable like that. I learned that the best way to feel the kind of love that felt good I probably needed to get good grades or say something clever first.

I was treated like a princess with my mom during her rare inter-husband periods and dismissed as too-sensitive by my much-more-financially-comfortable father. There were multiple marriages on both sides with lots of joinings and new family members and disjoining of families and family members. At a very minimum, I’d describe my childhood with one word: Goodbye.

You understand that the earlier this happens, the greater the psychological impact, right? The process began to me when I was 18 months old.

In my life, I’ve been the Heroine, the Victim, the Golden Girl, the Failure, the Loser, the Tragic Figure, the Cautionary Tale, as well as both Goldilocks and Cinderella.

This once “one in a million” girl has finally dropped down to a “one in one” girl, because I’m happy to just be myself. For the very first time in my whole entire life.

I’m actually happy to be:

Just Jennifer.

Tighten Up Your Game, Scammers!

Hello, Beloved Scammers in Scamville❣️

I’m starting to get a little worried about you. For one thing, one of you let drop you were “mirroring” me. Which I really appreciate since my father never did it, but all the same, I think deliberate deception and the loving desire to build another’s self-esteem are mutually exclusive intentions. And intentions still matter for most people, though I know you’re not conflicted by your own. No, you’re fully UNtroubled but the annoying, restraining influences of the superego.

Besides, only mental health professionals, mental health clients, and career manipulators know what mirroring is.

And you’re losing some other things in translation. Exhibit A: the ‘Asian guy from Austin’ who claimed to be “looking for other private hippies.” It just didn’t sound right, guys. I knew in my bones he was fake when he linked me the fake website for the fake university (in Austin, no less, where I myself when to school) where he’s a fake professor. You guys must’ve blown a wad on that debacle!

I imagine my reply to Your Bohemian Professor Imaginary confused you and made it difficult to “mirror” a response:

I kind of like the term “private hippies” and feel like it resonates with me. But from a linguistic perspective, I can’t tell if “private” means “mental” – as in having a “hippie” mindset. Or if hidden means “secret” – as in it exists in a tiny little rebellious corner of the hippy’s psyche???? If you can discern the difference and elucidate a cogent reply, I’ll be more comfortable you aren’t one of the scammers who have added so much chum to Internet waters lately. And if you can’t, I’ll make sure your whole operation implodes or succumbs to entropy, whichever is most appealing at the time.

Photo credit: Alessio Zaccaria

Daniel Day-Lewis and Other Writers

I want to ask a question of The Writers here on WordPress. I don’t qualify as one because I only play one on TV, and even that’s just over on my own YouTube Channel with only 15 concrete [but who knows how many potential and therefore relentlessly harassed!] subscribers. (?)

So my question is this (and I already know you’re going to catch me in multiple “grammar fails” throughout the duration of this, so I’m just gonna save us both some time by going ahead and copping to it):

When YOU write, do you prefer the dark to the light, the pain to the joy, the HEAVY to the LIGHT-AS-A-FEATHER? Because it all comes down to just being human, doesn’t it?

And what’s our alternative to THAT, even with all the “slings and arrows” that come with said territory? We can’t become dolphins, after all. And honestly we probably wouldn’t want to: it’s terrible what happens to them when they get tangled up in nets and the next thing they know, they’re all cut up and part of your tunafish sandwich. So think about that for 1 or 2 seconds!

#startingtomaybeunderstandthis”kharma”biznessbutnotsureI’mthereyet

Anyway, I ask all of this of you because lately – and at a not-young age – I’ve noticed that ditching my feelings of shame and [reasonable? unreasonable?] guilt by writing about them on my blog has led to some strange feelings of nearly-unbearable lightness.

In fact, for my younger writers, there’s actually a movie about that very same topic from the early ‘90s featuring a SMOKING HOT 🔥 Daniel-Day Lewis. His name is Tomás in the movie, and he WILL try your patience, I can assure you!

I’ve never really understood what the movie’s about, though. And I’ve even read the book predating the movie by Milan Kundera. A couple of hundred of times!

I think it’s about LIFE getting so bad for the characters that they become “lite” as a way to cope. Or that everyone responds that way when they’re exposed to seemingly-unsurvivable suffering. Like I said: I honestly can’t remember! I was probably just looking at Daniel Day-Lewis, anyway. 🤷🏼‍♀️

So anyway, my point is I don’t know what Your Muse looks like. As for me and Mine, we kind of feel like we’ve [maybe? possibly? hopefully? please?] just finished 15-20 years of all that pain. And all that “seemingly-unsurvivable suffering”. All the time, or as I’m fond of saying: 25/8/9,162.

So I just kind of feel like it’s finally my time to be Lite in all Matters of Mind, Body, Heart, Soul, and Spirit.

And I’m having so much fun I can hardly stand it❣️ There’s something very inspirational in The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

“When Solitaire’s The Only Game in Town“ 🎼:

My Summer as a Big Girl in Austin, TX., circa summer of 2021

———————————————————————————

Okay, you folks didn’t ask, but I can’t not tell. So here’s what Cooper and I really got up to in Austin in July….

I’ll try to tell it in “categories”, which makes perfect sense to me:

A. WHAT I TOOK WITH ME:

Enough Said

B. THE DRIVE UP THERE:

Was horrific, as All Time Served on Highway 35 is horrific. Particularly about halfway between San Antonio and Austin in this little town called New Braunfels. Why? Because The Powers That Be decided that 6:00pm on the Thursday before July 4th weekend would be a good time to take I-35’s 8 lanes down to 1 for construction. So technically, Cooper and I spent our first night parked on 35 in New Braunfels. Which made us so happy to arrive at our new home❣️

It was looooong.

C. WHERE I STAYED:

A 500 square foot “college apartment” as I like to call it. One I wouldn’t have even considered living in for a month in my 30s but positively adored in my [very] early 50s (why does it always hurt to say that, even after all these years?).

Anyway, aside from being on the second floor, which neither Cooper nor I liked much, everything else was fabulous❣️ Okay, and the parking did kind of suck, but why are we quibbling when I had such a good time??!!

Anyway, there was a bathroom with a bathtub (thank you!), a galley kitchen (all I needed with Amazon Fresh and Uber Eats), a TV (with free Netflix- score again!), and most importantly to me, a bed (any bed). Because that’s where I intended to spend most of my time.

I told you where I spent most of my time!

D. ALL THE NEW PEOPLE I MET:

I met plenty of boys, but I’ll just tell you about the one named Lucas. Lucas was 7-years-old back then (3 months ago), and I’m pretty sure he still is. Despite his young age, Lucas became my friend. He was the older son of my Airbnb hostess, and she was a single-by-choice mom of two kids. At my age, people! I think that’s pretty badass. She was really open about the fact that she got this wonderful guy to donate his sperm to her and about another couple hundred women for the purposes of making intelligent, charming, and beautiful babies no matter who’s X was attached to his Y. And Lucas was – is – all of those things: intelligent, charming, and beautiful.

Anyway, the 3 of us (me, Lucas, and Lucas’s mom) struck up a little deal. Since they lived a few houses away from my apartment, since my apartment was on the second floor, and since it was hot outside (more about that last irritant below), Lucas came over every couple of days to take Cooper for a quick walk. Then, he “literally” (good way to use it for a change) had to stay and talk with me while we waited for his mom to pick him up. The only wisdom I shared with him all that time was about the correct use of the word “literally.” Then I quizzed him about 5 different ways to make sure his understanding was comprehensive, and I was gratified to hear it was. I got a dog-walker, a friend, and a captive (I mean “student”) to listen to my interesting lectures for the bargain price of $2 a visit❣️ Best money I’ve spent in a long time!

Cooper, thriving in the fresh air of dog urine. It was good for me to get out in the sunshine, too, because we literally both got to talk to at least 5 dogs on each walk.

E. THE RESTAURANTS I ATTENDED:

My Apartment, Truluck’s, and this typically-pretentiously-Austin restaurant called “Hestia.” Details are below, and hey, I’m doing them a solid with the viral exposure I’m giving them for free, so don’t worry about them! Plus, at the prices they charge, they’re laughing all the way to those crypto-currency sites.

Anyway, I think this was the vibe they were going for: something along the lines of “Quick Dirt-to-Table Time” or somesuch nonsense like that. The guy in the tight mauve velvet suit who spoke with an unplaceable accent (and people: I’ve seen the world!) got really excited when he started explaining this concept, but I fell asleep about 3 hours in. Fortunately (and there are several “fortunatelies” to this tale), I came to as the cocktails arrived. Good thing at $20 a pop. And then there were something like 48 miniature courses, all of them explaining that concept I told you about that I was fortunately (there’s another one!) able to snooze through. But I woke up when those expensive drinks hit the table! And can I say that the courses just kept on coming? I mean, like loooong after I’d taken the Uber back home, brushed my teeth, and fallen back asleep. Fortunately (!), my friend Julie watched my dog Cooper so his separation anxiety wouldn’t get separated when I left for this meal from The Early Roman Orgy Period. You know: the ones that lasted Forever And A Day?

The final fortunately of this particular evening, and it’s the biggest one of all folks, is that I was not required to pay a dime towards all this “Beautiful People in Velvet Suits” luxury.

And am I ever grateful for that! Because I saw the prices and was awake for at least 5 of those courses, so I’m absolutely certain the bill was somewhere in the middle 300s. Damn! Was I ever glad to escape that one!

Here are Hestia’s details because the food really was very good.

Plus, the Uber driver on the way up there was very friendly and talkative and when I told him the exact year I had been born in Austin (19XX, and that’s all I’m saying publicly; he’d become a friend by then). Anyway, what he said – as he looked at me through the rear-view mirror – was “Well, don’t worry; you don’t look anywhere near that old.” Which in Austin qualifies as a “fortunately”: trust me, it was a compliment! And I take them whenever and wherever I can. I’m particularly fond of forcing them out of captives, though the Uber driver swore up and down he was being truthful about it. And that it had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with his tip. I’m inclined to believe him, aren’t you?

I totally forgot where I was going with this post again! Menopause is really hitting me hard, Friends❣️ I think I’m getting wiser all the time, but I’ve got all this teenage angst and vanity hitting me up at the time, and I’ve got to say: it’s really magnified in a youth-centric town like Austin.

(I’m doing it again! I keep forgetting Austin is no longer a town!).

I know, it was the last “category” on my list: What I Did. So here you go:

F. WHAT I DID (while there, a little ironic this chapter comes with a grade of “F”, since I think I finally mastered it):

Absolutely nothing!! And it was so wonderful! No one there to collect my trash 25/8, no real worries (other than my standard ones), and my freedom. YES‼️ My FREEDOM‼️ 🎉🇺🇸🇹🇴🇬🇧 (I tried to choose flags from known supposedly-free countries to reflect my point).

Anyway, all I really wanted to do was Whatever I Wanted To Do Whenever I Wanted To Do It. Is that really so much to ask? I mean, is it?? Was it excessive? Because aside from the Amazon Fresh deliveries, I thought I kept this whole adventure pretty frugal and peace-loving: sort of like a summer in an old VW bus.

The ultimate luxury? Keeping the thermostat on 65 degrees! With only 500 feet of living place, it cooled down in a real jiffy! And let’s face it: this was South Central Texas in July. I’ve repeatedly confessed to some rather vexing hormone imbalances that often show up in unbearably hot ways.

But again I digress! I must be a Digressor. I’m also a Preparor. I had my hair coiffed, nails painted, and waxing waxed beforehand. Because you know those people are hard to find in a new town! And I fully intended to look gorgeous every single day! I actually refused not to. So even though I was referred to as “middle-aged” in that police report I told you guys about earlier, I knew I was killing it.

At least my little brush with the law had nothing to do with my marijuana consumption (which I always think of as “recent,” but if I’m painfully honest with myself, “recent” is about the last 3 years). Please don’t tell the cops about that, okay? I did say “What happened in Austin stays in Austin”: I just need to amend that to include “especially if the Austin Police Department are involved.”

No need to get specific here.
I can’t explain the Def Leppard, either. But the audiobook pretty much took up the entire month, so I don’t get why everyone’s saying I was so lazy up there.

So between Lucas helping me out with my Cooper walks and my Determination To Do Nothing, I pretty much accomplished my goals! Not to mention, I really sharpened up my Solitaire game while I was up there. Do you see how well I did in that screenshot below? Do you have any idea how many games it takes to land on one you could potentially totally dominate? Let’s just say y’all would’ve been mpressed by my determination (there’s that inner determination showing up again!)

Anyway. I won’t say anymore about my score (we all know how impressive it is), but I will say that I am a member of the Fewest Moves school of thought. And I’m a very deep thinker. I know some people just want to get it all over with as quickly as possible, but I actually prefer Perfection to Speed. Honestly, it’s a mystery to me why Everyone’s always in such a rush!

And I’m not even addressing the “Quality vs. Quantity” debate here, let me make that perfectly clear. I’m just fine with Quantity – in fact I’m quite the fan. But never, and I repeat never, at the expense of Quality. I didn’t go all the way to Austin just to eat McDonald’s, now did I?

Or to play so much Solitaire, for that matter. Because let’s be honest, we all know that’s why I went up there in the first place! I will never [purposely] mislead you here. Because I’m very transparent and honest and value those qualities in others. Unless they’re opposing me on Solitaire or have apparently become so offended by my parking that they felt the need to call the Austin Fucking Police Department about it! Let’s just stay away from this whole topic, okay? I’m starting to get a little uncomfortable.

Anyway, deep breath taken and we’re back to the topic of Why I Love Solitaire So Much. One: it’s both consistent AND reliable. Two: I don’t have to put on that insufferable magnetic eyeliner just to play with it. Three (and these aren’t in any order of importance): as long as my iPhone has juice, so does my Solitaire.

Which was always very comforting to me when I’d go [back to] bed, iPhone next to me charging all night.

Along with all of my other electronic devices.

Prompt from F-Book… “Concerts Attended which ‘Date’ Me:”

The Brady Bunch (that’s right), Judy Collins, Shaun Cassidy, Foreigner (Juke Box Hero), Journey (Open Arms), CULTURE CLUB (!), ZZ Top (twice), 38 Special, Golden Earring, Rod Stewart, The Church, The Replacements, U2, THE WHO (4 hour drive in each direction), Huey Lewis and the News, Johnny Rotten’s rotten band, Charlie Sexton, Elvis Costello, Bob Schneider, Black Sabbath (wow, what a story!), and Van Halen. I’m sure I’m missing at least 10.

At outdoor venues, like Chastain Park in Atlanta, Tanglewood in the Berkshires, and Ravinia outside of Chicago. I remember seeing Chicago, The Boston Pops, and Kenny Loggins at those 3 places, respectively. But I’m certain I forgot many. Including Mary Chaplin Carpenter, multiple incarnations of Fleetwood Mac, a 1990s version of Crosby, Stills, and ??, and again, too many my Gray Matter has forgotten to remember.

Which ones date you?

P.S. I’m really sorry for painting your cool outfit with highlighter yellow, Shaun. I was eleven when you Arrived, so hopefully you understand about short-term memory loss and technology missteps.

P.P.S. For the record, I stopped wanting to marry you in 1979. So I’m not cyber-stalking you, no matter what Billy Squier says.

Nobody Wanted to Know about Austin, but I Just Can’t Help Myself…

July 6, 2021

I’m in Austin for the month of July and will be back during the month of December and January or Just January (San Antonio in between). Anyway, my dog, Cooper, and I are on the second floor – the first second floor in Cooper’s entire life! I’ve got to say that – it’s now been a week into our “staycation” – and he’s been a real champ with those outdoor stairs. Up and down twice or three times a day in addition to walks on top of it… and let’s just say I’ve learned over the last week:

BOTH of us old dogs over here can learn new tricks!

The MBTI, DISC, Enneagram, OPT, and All Other Star Signs

My Text to Best Friend from Aged 12-High School, Uber-Qualified Therapist of 30+ Years, Fellow ENFP:

“I’m so thankful you recommended the Enneagram to me! I wrote this post on my blog 5 days ago:

Then I listened to the Enneagram-based Sleeping at Last songs on Spotify, and my reaction to the different “types” or “wings” was:

Atlas ONE: YES!!
Atlas TWO: sweet
Atlas THREE: yes
Atlas FOUR: sure
Atlas FIVE: all right already
Atlas SIX: umm hmmm
Atlas SEVEN: again
Atlas EIGHT: WHO’S BEEN READING MY ANONYMOUS BLOG POSTS AND STEALING MY MATERIAL!!?? I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE COPYRIGHTED IT!!Atlas NINE: who cares? I’m still feeling betrayed about #8!!

I’m also aware this is a relatively new position for me over the last year or so (after 53 years of unremitting Self-Flagellation). However, I can’t remember when I didn’t feel like I never got to have a childhood because I had to be such a Little Adult all the time!

I think it’s why I’m STILL so maddeningly self-critical about seeming puerile and immature NOW… at aged 54!!

Anyway, I damn well hope this didn’t wake you! I just wanted to get it down before I forgot it. You can shrink my head the next time we chat! Oh, and I also just heard that the 8s were the most “mentally unhealthy” of all Enneagram types! This on top of being a bleeding heart ENFP❣️

Oh well, FUCK THEM!! I adapt; I survive; rules change; I adapt again; I keep on surviving – like a cockroach!!
I Love you❣️”

—————————————————

P.S. Turns out I got this whole Enneagram thingy wrong despite my unwavering conviction that I got it right.

Anyway, turns out I’m a 4-3, with a little bit of all 9 numbers. Except for numbers 1 and 8. So much for knowing myself so-much-better after processing all these long-buried feelings on my blog! It appears I am as clueless as always about the goings-on in Jennifurrville (they never tell me a blooming thing!).

P.P.S. I really hate being such a deep, mysterious, complicated, alluring, complex, multi-layered woman with a gorgeous body Engraved by Life who always keeps you on your toes.

It’s a dirty job, filthy actually; but somebody has to do it❣️

Lavish & Ravish Me (2019)

Pour out your heart and with it do lavish
Your love onto me, and my body please ravish.

The strength of your presence, it beckons me close;
Banishing fear that leaves me exposed.

Yet with you my exposure is no cause for shame:
I feel full of beauty when you breathe my name.

The confidence you engender calls out to my heart,
And tells me it’s fine that I don’t want to part.

Instead, what I want is to grow a great union
Of mind, soul, and spirit in True Cosmic Fusion.

No longer searching for places to hide,
As all that I am warms to beckon you inside.

Again and Again and Again. Forever.