“Broken Bad?” and Recent Weight Loss

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.”

Because:

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.

This week.

How am I doing?

Not that anyone cares

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.”

PROOF‼️

The tears, the prayers

The tears?

The ones on my knees, when I was pleading with you to let the baby stay?

The prayers?

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.

It’s intentional.

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]

And why…

And why…

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.

And mostly?

I’m just mad about all the years I wasted.

In fact, I’m:

Really fucking pissed off.





WTF??

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.

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‼️

My Kinda Lover

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.

I Want to Scream

Sometimes I want to go stand in the streets and yell:

“Don’t you realize how quickly time is running out??!!

If you want to love again, pick your love and begin loving as soon as possible!

Don’t assume there will always be another chance:

The only guarantee is that there is no guarantee, so do it all NOW!!”

But no one would listen.

Too Light?

I cried and felt so terrible inside for so long.

One day, I finally stopped the [inner] crying. Now, I know what my brief bouts of tears are about.

My heaviness isn’t as heavy, but life seems to have turned into a giant Cosmic Joke that nobody else is in on. In fact, I’m starting to feel so light, I worry I could become untethered, like an accidentally-released helium balloon.

I’m not sure if this is a joy explosion or incipient madness.

Heart-Dead

I’d rather feel everything — joy, happiness, fear, sadness, grief — too intensely than feel nothing at all.

We use the term “brain-dead” with relative ease, but few talk of being “heart-dead.” In my dictionary, heart dead is synonymous for emotionally flat; an inability to feel.

While I realize it might be easier for others to live that way:

For me, emotional numbness is a grasping, ferociously tentacled black hole of Nothingness, threatening the perfect equilibrium I’ve cultivated within the galaxy of My Heart.

Feel much?

Good for you.

I prefer my heart beating, too. ❤️

—————————————————-

[Photo @coolmilo. Thanks!)

#definition #emotionsmatter #feel #aliveness

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].❤️

I Thought the Traumas Aged Me

I thought my traumas aged me.

All the childhood crap, the losing of all my pregnancies, the searing betrayals, the fights with death and disease, the ongoing fights with death and disease, and the psychological fallout from all of the above.

Yada, yada, yada.

But no: nothing ages a person like wearing her (or his) heart completely exposed and unprotected on the prosaic sleeve; aware of the devastating effects of every tiny particle of dust and vaporous breeze that touches and then and has no choice but to scar it.

At which point you’re trying to fly low behind the radar, attempting to allude Cosmic Scrutiny and trying hard not to attract more pain than is unsurvivable.

Multiplied by the number of children you have.

That’s the Crucible that turns Ordinary Sitizens into Old Souls.

The Recipe for Disaster

You start with a perfectly decent heart and a perfectly decent mind and a perfectly decent body

And then…

your perfectly decent heart

and your perfectly decent mind

and your perfectly decent body

all

‼️BREAK‼️

Over…

And Over…

And Over…

Again.

And you wonder why I don’t take things seriously anymore?

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