Reason, season, or lifetime?

“The road to relationship hell, is paved with charming people who haven’t worked on themselves yet.” —Jillian Turocki

People who love you, AKA: friends, will not insult your character. Friends shouldn’t be tone-deaf to each other’s plight, passions, projects, or purposes. People who love you don’t secretly compete with you, control, belittle or bully you, or only keep you around to satisfy their own diluted sense of self.

People who love you should know you enough to not make “accidental” slights or indirect insinuations, secret or vocal assumptions, judgments, or unconstructive criticisms. People who do any of that, have trouble loving themselves & so the easiest way to dull the pain is by “cutting…” those closest to them. BEWARE.

That said, there are people who are simply gone from my life in all the ways. Any lingering long-distance relationships I may still have, are all on their last leg too. Friendships must be nourished to stay alive just like anything else in this 3D time & space reality we have been accustomed to calling “life,” for quite some time.

I am pleased to report, that after many lifetimes here, experiences galore & the karmic quilt of wisdom & enlightenment I have woven & managed to carry through even the darkest moments, some things actually ARE predictable. The 3D reality is much like a police scanner. If you pay attention to the landscape, you will know exactly how to respond. Some things are just always gonna be math & science, logic & factual type evidence.

Here’s one: If no QUALITY TIME is spent on a project, or invested in the dream or venture, all prospects will wind up dead in the water. Floating… like a lifeless flower plucked & stuck on a river rock just withering in the sunlight instead of growing in it. Here’s another one: in order for relationships to thrive, grow, be beneficial & wielding something that blesses the world, the neighborhood, community, or a family… that relationship must serve both parties equally.

In the realm of relationships, there must be a mutual understanding, where needs are met, & reciprocal conversations take place. And if any disagreements should arise, the relationship should rightfully have the where with all to diplomatically hear both sides, air grievances without vitriol & be willing to understand why the other party feels disrespected. If two people, friends, lovers, family members, can not agree by default to be proactive in each other’s life on a regular basis, then that is not a friendship or relationship. It is a mere floating flower about to sink at any time.

That said, I have so many floating flowers around me at this juncture. I actually feel like I am naked in a dark, murky lagoon. Barely keeping my balance on slimy rocks, I feel like I’m being baptized by the rushing river rapids while all the once pretty, now wilting flowers gather in lily pad formation around me for one final feeding. Thus I say my last words to them before the salamanders skip across them & the hot morning sun burns them off into the deep.

My last words: hope you find what you are looking for. Life is indeed what you make it. The joy is actually in the journey. The quality of a friendship depends on BOTH parties. I got news for ya: participation is a requirement in order for things to grow. A random one a month, or year, only on holiday, TEXT does not suffice in the book of friendship etiquette. And… the definition of compromise… is not “your terms.” Thanks for teaching me the lessons I needed to love myself more & move forward freer & more whole.

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Turns out, most people ya meet in life are just for that very reason, to teach you how to love yourself more fully. People on your path show up for a reason, season, or lifetime. For me personally, “lifetimes” are hard to come by, especially when ya don’t even have a sibling or parent or whatnot that you can say you are ” stuck” with, lol. I’m an adult orphan in every sense of the word. And, I bet that even though social media hasn’t gotten famous off orphans, I’m sure there are a lot of us. Shout out to ya…

And finally, shout out to all the sinking flowers. May you find the school of fish you are seeking.

One,
JZapp

*New Book 1: https://www.amazon.com/Age-Aquarius-practical-guide-bringing/dp/B08TQ7F2CB
*New Book 2: https://www.amazon.com/Decline-Civility-Pt-Trilogy-occasion/dp/B08TRLB7YG/
*Follow Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B078Y9PN4X
*Introducing my New YouTube channel: https://youtube.com/channel/UCM2p_i1NMEIQ46N69kB6OkQ
*Official Press Release Link: https://bookonfireblog.com/2021/01/28/jzapp-press-release-circa-2021/
*Follow Interesting Blog: https://bookonfireblog.com/

Stern and Snapple: winning combo of ’92

In 1992, I was 17, I just graduated H.S in the Spring. That Fall, I started commuting to my local community college for classes that I was working to pay for via a shitty job I had at the Clover Snack Bar.

Fun Fact: I eventually got fired, & taken out of the store in handcuffs, cause I was stealing out of the register the entire time I worked there. I never rang up hot dogs, lol.

I tripped on Acid every weekend, I was fat, unhappy, & smoked a pack a day of Marlboro/Winston/Parliament/Camel… you name it. We stole cartons from the Mobil station where my boyfriend worked the graveyard shift. I drank Snapple from Wawa like it was going out of style. And, school cafeteria cheese fries were a really crappy habit I kept even after HS.

That said, I think it’s kinda funny that underneath it all, my soul still had a secret longing even then, to do exactly what I’m doing NOW. Weird. My major was: Video Production. My roster for that semester was Audio Production class, Video Production 1, English Comp 1, Creative Writing, & a new class they were offering that year: “Writing for the religious & spiritual market,” If that ain’t uncanny.

I drove to school reluctantly every morning on windy back roads watching the misty layer of dew rise from the Bucks County fields of gold & green. My tin can of a car was an ’85 Ford Escort 4 cylinder hatchback with 4 different tires. And I DIY installed a rad CD player I pulled out of some beater in the local junkyard.

Every morning bright & early, I’d be whipping around bends, pounding coffee saturated with Equal packets & listening to the old faithful: Howard Stern in the morning. Thank God for “Baba Booey,” sidekick Robin’s kooky laugh… & Stern’s anything but PC raunchy attitude. It seriously got me through the trying, dark, shadowy days I found myself clawing to escape from back then.

I was so unhappy. My life was a serious drag, I hated my mom, my home life was beyond toxic. My dad was in his cued-up prescription pill dreamworld of sorts, paying for his new wife’s college education instead of mine. My boyfriend & I knew then we were growing apart, but managed to still stay together 7 MORE years after that. Don’t tell me that’s not totally insane. I really truly believed that the only way out was to just one day hopefully keel over. And that’s exactly what happened, lol.

I had a sharp pain strike me in the middle of an evening class up in the bleacher seats of the giant theater-like classroom & it nearly knocked the wind right out. I had no idea what was happening. So I actually raised my hand, & asked to be excused. We had no cell phones or anything, so I then rushed myself to the local ER. Turns out that I got there just in the nick of time, because I happened to be minutes away from my appendix almost bursting.

Over the years, I had sometimes wished it woulda just done so. Cause after that… they operated successfully, I eventually made a full recovery & then went on to have the most challenging life ever. I have had trials & tribulations that far exceed a movie. I’ve been to hell & back. And somehow, I managed to land on my feet like a cat. It’s quite odd.

I sometimes still feel like that chubby teenager with Tastykake crumbs in my lap, slurping coffee to Stern with a cigarette fastened to my lower lip. But I am not. I’m a book writer now… for a market that is well beyond religious & spiritual. It’s 30 years later, & New Earth is dawning, for godsake. Who knew? lol

I was inspired to write this blog, because I am about to record Audio Book versions of my books this month. I built a makeshift studio in my apt & I’m attempting to master the audio tech I SHOULD HAVE mastered in 1992, if I wouldn’t have dropped out of college. But, oh well, thats the way the Tastykake crumbles. 🙂

At this stage of the game, circa Age of Aquarius 2021, there is nothing I want more in this life at this time than my books to go viral. And this: I shall make happen, in one way or another, fam.

That said… thanks for tuning in! YOU can help the cause by commenting, tapping LIKE or FOLLOW, writing a REVIEW on Amazon or Goodreads, SUBSCRIBE to New Earth Now youtube channel… & SHARING IS CARING! Spread the love. Appreciatechya! Ciao! Cheers! Namaste

One,
JZapp

*New Book 1: https://www.amazon.com/Age-Aquarius-practical-guide-bringing/dp/B08TQ7F2CB
*New Book 2: https://www.amazon.com/Decline-Civility-Pt-Trilogy-occasion/dp/B08TRLB7YG/
*Follow Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B078Y9PN4X
*Introducing my New YouTube channel: https://youtube.com/channel/UCM2p_i1NMEIQ46N69kB6OkQ
*Official Press Release Link: https://bookonfireblog.com/2021/01/28/jzapp-press-release-circa-2021/
*Follow Interesting Blog: https://bookonfireblog.com/

New Amazon Author Bio

New Amazon Author Bio: tell me what you think


Jenay Zapp is an Independent Author who had been the “starving artist” archetype most of her life. Currently, a “school of hard knocks” graduate with a master’s degree from “thug life Institute” she managed to miraculously survive seemingly unscathed. A product of a dysfunctional childhood, her self-worth was starving in every direction while all her shining potential was being continuously suffocated by a plethora of unresolved karma, unhealed trauma, anger, sadness & fear. She played the role of “only child,” abused, abandoned, wounded, troubled kid, & rebellious teen, who then went on to be the bipolar addict, scammer, thief, hooker, sugar baby, party girl, drunk driver, & escape artist. This resulted in the archetypes of inpatient, inmate, convict, parolee, loner, orphan, victim, survivor. Then she went on to be the almost mother, wanna-be wife, other woman, & scorned woman. She was the gig worker, cleaner, clerk, dead end job employee, struggling service industry staff/stressed-out Sous Chef. Then her one last-ditch effort was the wounded healer, lonely lightworker, emotional empath, broken poet, pseudo boss babe, & aspiring millionaire. “Poor me” another glass of “whine.” You name it.


Then one day in year 2020 at age 45 there was a world pandemic & all restaurant workers were laid off. She made an executive decision to become completely 100% free of meat, dairy, drugs, alcohol, smoke, processed food, toxic relationships, unhealthy choices & unnecessary habits. Micro organizing everything from online folders to sock drawers, she trimmed all fat, cut out all drama, mindless chatter, & superfluous engagement. She significantly minimized: consumption, plastic, waste, distractions, binge watching, binge shopping & binge eating, at which time she produced her two latest books. She has no family, no parents, siblings, friends, support system or partner to speak of. No one except her two cosmic cats & her Elite Team of Spirit Guides who work in conjunction with her to produce all projects. It looks like the refiners fire produced a gem.


Read book descriptions. Use the “Look Inside” feature. See for yourself.


SUBJECTS: Nonfiction. Inspirational. Motivational. Health & Wellness. Self-empowerment. Self-development. Ascension. New Earth. 5th Dimension. Human Potential Movement. Real History. Pop Culture. Autobiography. Cosmic Consciousness. Animal Rights. Human Rights. Holistic Healing. Addiction Recovery. Mindfulness. Spirit Guides. Nature. Mysticism. Spirituality. Social Justice. America. Mind, Body, Spirit. Soul Mastery. Metaphysics. Quantum Mechanics. The Great Awakening. Chakras. Energy. Meditation. Law of Attraction. Universal Law. Deliberate Creation. Manifestation. Miracles.


Published by: BookonFire Press /www.bookonfireblog.com/ “Revolutionizing the World One Book at a Time.”

Click below to get your copies of my two new books & read all about my life story in them. Or follow any of the links to jump on my team. And, I made a “music video” for my books down below featured on my new Youtube channel if you want to check out my newest Art. Just PRESS PLAY below. Thanks for reading! 

The Opportunity Knocks Box:

Tip Life: a long goodbye

Well, it took an entire whole year, this past one, to recover from the restaurant industry. I worked in it my whole life for the most part. The Clover snack bar at 17 was my first go of it. Then I was a McDonald’s burger flipper on the assembly line when I was 3 months pregnant in Bucks County Correctional Facility’s work-release program. I went to Culinary School eventually after a long crazy drug addiction & then I had a long crazy career front & back of house. This past year really gave me exactly what I needed to let go of all that. Change my identity. Free myself from all the stereotypes & archetypal personas I had to carry through all of it. Circa 2020 gave me the grace period to overcome. All the gunk accrued over a lifetime of late nights, non-slip shoes, beat-up feet, bags, circles & hangovers.

The restaurant business is the greatest place to have a wild ride & create the best memories you will ever have. Ya make best friends, collect a list of clandestine loves of your life, glide in & out of people’s charming little lives. You become family. They become yours. But there always comes a time when the party must go on without ya. That’s me now. And I gotta say, as much as I questioned it over & over again at first… I knew It had to be done. But the song didn’t stop playing until recently. It took every bit of a whole entire year to get over that love affair I had with the business. And gee, am I sure glad I had the courage & where-with-all to follow through. Because ya know what came of it? These TWO BOOKS.

Click below to get your copies of my two new books & read all about my life story in them. Or follow any of the links to jump on my team, would love to have ya. And, I made an incredible “music video” for my books down below featured on my new Youtube channel if you want to check out my newest Art. Just PRESS PLAY below. Thanks!

The Opportunity Knocks Box:

“It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe

It don’t matter, anyhow

An’ it ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe

If you don’t know by now

When your rooster crows at the break of dawn

Look out your window and I’ll be gone

You’re the reason I’m trav’lin’ on

Don’t think twice, it’s all right…”

—-Bob Dylan

Real talk in real-time

I am an excellent writer. I have come a long hard way, to become the refined gem that I am now in my craft. But the one thing that I haven’t mastered in writing, honestly, is conveying my real-life feelings in real-time. Telling my story has always been a challenge. Even though I officially disclosed my entire life story in the middle of the one book I just published, it was the toughest part of the whole project. Emotions run high & judgment is a big factor, not to mention, other people’s business, reputations or privacy is at stake, or worse… people could potentially be hurt or incriminated. So, hence, I was quick to develop a skill of not “naming names.” Plus, if ANYTHING is unhealed from your story, it will show. And that is never… a good look.

Emotional ties tend to cloud objectivity, like when the plaintiff is a family member & you’re on the jury. The pure channel gets staticy, the waves get choppy, the call drops. Unkempt emotions will thus attempt to interfere with any sacred stream of consciousness & complicate the otherwise unimpeded providence of that certain caliber of inspired written flow a good writer has. But, I am gonna go for it anyway, despite all that, because it’s the only way I will improve that underserved area of my writing expertise. I really have nothing to lose at this point by doing so. If I based my readership range on likes & shares, it surely would appear as if no one ever reads my stuff. If & when they do, I barely get an iota of feedback, so I would never know anyway. Like I said… what to lose? Nada.

I am a kind person, I’m not trying to hurt anybody or make anyone feel bad. I have no real ill will anymore towards anyone. No need to forgive anyone for anything, when you have healed. It is what it is. But, ya know, ya can’t go around just people-pleasing all the time & hiding your true feelings just for the sake of being PC on some level you may think is appropriate. What IS appropriate… is to be true to oneself. Anything otherwise is comparable to a type of dumbing down, or it’s like being a vegan & hanging out at the “Wild Wing Cafe” cause that’s where your friends choose to go. Your first loyalty is to your own voice.

That said, I am not gonna keep pretending like it’s okay or that it is “normal,” that I literally have zero support in life, for me, my dreams, goals, plans or endeavors. I think it’s actually safe to say, I have no support system. I have zero family that cares enough in any way shape or form, as to actually take TIME out of their lives to reach out, engage with me, get to know me or have anything to really do with me, so to speak, let alone say a single word about my books or whatnot. I bet not one single person in my entire family, extended or otherwise… even knows the names of my cats. The only semblance of home I ever have or feel is when I watch my prized collection of Diane Keaton movies. I get grounded & reset every time, thank god for Hollywood.

I can only guess that most of the bridges are burnt somehow. And the ones that are not burnt, were just never even built in the first place. I have no brothers & sisters, & both of my parents were NOT family people that cared to keep connections alive. All my friendships are dead. And, every contact I have ever had has no meaning or value for me anymore. I may as well just literally delete every number in my phone, like all 100 of them. I am not a part of any family, circle, tribe, or community. People from my past, just aren’t there anymore. I don’t seem to attract anyone who “gets me” on any other level than a surfacy one, which is a far cry from anyone that even reads my stuff or pays any attention to what I believe in & stand for. Except, the one security guard guy at the local grocery store. He bought my books… but I think he just thinks that maybe, somehow if he is lucky, that will get him closer to my bed. I’m not lying. Good guy & all, but he is MARRIED. I’m through with that phase of my life where I sneak around with unavailable men. I’ve since become more virtuous these days, if you will.

I have one Christian friend who carves minutes out of her otherwise busy life for me (typically when en route), once a month, & she is really only there for me because I seemingly have no one else, & it’s the Christian thing to do. Don’t get me wrong, our friendship is mutual & genuine, but it’s a long-distance one at best & yes, she is my ONE emergency contact. So besides her & a couple of estranged texts from former associates… my ex-boyfriend’s mom, the former “monster-in-law” for lack of a better way to describe it, is the only person who has congratulated me on my books after they were published. The ex-mom-in-law actually responded to my heart-felt group email I put so much time & effort into, which is more than I can say for pretty much everyone else on that list, all 300 of them. That’s pretty nuts if ya ask me. All those emails couldn’t have all gotten lost, lol. Anyway, she is the only person who I know actually read all my books, likes them & leaves good reviews. To be honest… for an ex-mother-in-law from 6 years ago to be the only one I feel SEES me? You can’t tell me that’s not awkward.

Then, we have the singular phone call. It’s the ONE phone call I ever get besides creditors, & the student loan forgiveness people. It is an ex ex-boyfriend from a really long time ago, & because I never answer, he winds up leaving silly drunk messages on my voicemail that never make any sense. I have a collection of them at this point. He’s married with a stepson & has been blowing up my phone religiously 3x a week for the past 2 years straight, to no avail. I mean, okay, it makes me feel loved sorta, but, that’s weird. The cute chubby lady that works here in the shopping center, is my weekly go-to for a soul sister pow wow giggle in the cashier’s line for 10 minutes each week. And who knew the Amazon customer service agent would be the one person I talked to, the entirety of the Christmas holiday.

I mean, I am blessed to the max, don’t get me wrong. I have a charming little sparkly life with my 2 great cosmic cats in my tiny bohemian sage-smudged sanctuary. My solitary life is actually pretty amazing in its own right or else I wouldn’t write & sell books on how to have a good life, lol. My blessings are not even remotely based on people though, as against popular belief as that sounds. It is based on many other valuable factors. What I do have in the way of people in my life, is treasured, of course. I am certainly grateful for all the indiscriminate Earth Angels that speckle my path, even though the connections are oddly scarce & more or less surfacy at this stage of the game. I gotta say, if “what comes around goes around” happened in any kind of obvious way, if tit for tat was the equation, you’d think I was a total asshole. But the truth is, I’m the polar opposite of asshole, my M.O. is “Secret Santa” out in society & on social media. So, this friend/family/people desert happening to my life right now, has got to be some kind of “necessary evil” to the next chapter. I can accept that, but it still doesn’t make it feel good.

So, as I was saying… then we have the neighbor across the way who is the only person I hang out with on a regular basis & that is only because he has no family, friends or life either. We kind of find solace in each other’s company every other weekend for approx 2 hours, when he takes me to run errands because I have no wheels right now. But what you have to understand about this guy, is… he has such a heavy southern draw, that I seriously do not understand anything he says unless I pay really close attention. Our friendship basically consists of him flirting & me laughing it off, & then I usually vent for 20 minutes somewhere in-between, so I can get stuff off my chest. The guy is a sweet man, but we are just friends unfortunately for him. And, with all due respect, I don’t think he would ever be into anything I write about, he is your epitome of a “simple man” who has either fished or worked in a factory setting his whole life, for all intents & purposes. His apartment consists of a bed, a TV & a big dirty smoldering ashtray.

Then, there’s the older “dad guy” friend who used to be my next-door neighbor, til I found his son dead from an overdose when he wasn’t there. Now he has moved downtown, & even though he gets social security checks, he drives Uber so he can support his recreational coke habit. He only calls every other month when he dries out, to rattle on about politics. Then afterward he typically sends me like literally 35 follow-up text messages containing links to all kinds of controversial articles. Then there’s the other “dad guy” friend who I met because he had a Casio keyboard for sale on Craigslist when I first moved here 5 years ago & I bought it. We are still friends. He’s married, retired, & watches his grandkids all the time, & can only sneak out to talk to me once in a while for like 10 minutes if I’m lucky. Yes, he is supportive from a distance, shows me some compassion when I need it, but again, doesn’t read my books or is really a part of my life other than scant phone calls over the years. Don’t get me wrong… those phone calls mean a heck of a lot, considering my circumstances. He kind of serves as a surrogate uncle or something.

In the current state of my connections, it appears that no one has time for me. Everybody has a family of their own, a circle, responsibilities, commitments, loyalties, people that take precedence & priority well over whoever I even am to them. The person that does have time for me, the ex ex… is in an unhappy marriage, on disability & is always drunk, so that doesn’t count. My MOTHER is still alive, & lives in Australia with a whole nother family, for 15 years now, & she only contacts me via email once in a blue moon with some generic “hope you’re well” note. Once in a while, she will discreetly chime in like how she just subscribed to my new YouTube channel the other day under AN ALIAS, mind you. But, who has time for games? Life is too short & precious to be a weird clandestine person in the background of your only daughter’s life, allegedly hiding it from your husband & his family, for some ridiculous reason. Yeah, that’s real good for the kid’s self-esteem, lol. Lucky I’m grown & don’t rely on others for my self-worth.

Speaking of mothers, we then have the woman who served as a surrogate sister/best friend/mom, that was my go-to person for just about everything. I’ve known her for 30 years, & basically talked to her every single week for the past 5 years. This was the only real enduring relationship I thought I had in my life. But, the blinders came off when all of a sudden she dropped out of my life right before Christmas, for reasons beyond me. All I know is… she was in a kind of dark place. So, I’m gonna just let it go at that & try not to take it personally. Then, we have the former best friend/travel partner/colleague who recently walked back into my life via phone/text. She & I were enthusiastically acting like we were gonna resume where we left off, & then suddenly she straight dropped right off, a day after that very phone call, despite my efforts to maintain the connection. A cornerstone of friendship… is being AVAILABLE, as far as I’m concerned. Otherwise, you just feel rejected & not important enough in a friendship that’s anything less. My own 16-year old son & his entire adoptive family who used to support me & communicate with me, just don’t now anymore either. I text my son & I get zero reply, & same thing with most everyone else I text, it’s very strange. If someone were to ever want to spend actual TIME with me right now, I think I’d be floored at this point.

The theme of my life now is literally “radio silence.” No one has given me any substantial or significant support, love, care, compassion or encouragement at this stage of my dreams, what-so-ever. This is precisely why I dedicated both of my newest books to my cats & the animals of the world. At least my cats love & support me, which is more than I can say for ANYBODY that I know, with all due respect to the aforementioned people. Even though, I have had a handful of compliments/congrats via text from certain former friends & colleagues, maybe 2 or 3 likes on Insta & Fb, & my Dad’s sister sent me ONE nice text… it pales in comparison to what I believe I truly deserve. Not to sound arrogant, but the work I do is worthy of great recognition, high regard & accolades. My elite team of benevolent Spirit Guides that channel this material through me, are no joke. Not sure why it seems like people are not taking me seriously when I say that these books are official. These books are NEXT LEVEL & are indefinitely meant for the masses or else I wouldn’t boast them the way I do. I’m obviously grateful for what love, praise or acknowledgment I do receive. But, if you were me, you would feel slighted by pretty much every single person you have ever been associated with too. Sometimes I just chalk it up to my imagination. But clearly… at this point, now that I have gone as far as writing this blog… IT’S NOT.

Here’s a kicker… so I send a group email to what I am calling “the soul tribe” group of people who essentially were my online mentors all summer for all intents & purposes. I sent this email to thank them & to let them know that I gave each & every one of them a special shout-out & “plug” in BOTH of my books. Well, I did manage to receive email replies from 2 assistants that confirmed receipt. Then I received three actual replies of congrats from 3 mentors, which I am super grateful for & to be honest, helped to significantly keep the good vibes afloat. Because, frankly, I felt snubbed by the others, especially considering that I singled out a few & wrote them personal heartfelt messages. But to no avail, I was pretty much rejected or ignored by people that I really thought better of, who I wrote generous things about in my books, which is somewhat disheartening to say the least. Then the cherry on the top was my copywriting teacher whom I had a real-life virtual rapport with, basically came at me & called my dreams SPAM, pretty much, because I seemingly do not fit into her BOX. As far as I am concerned, she could have approached me on a more considerate tip. That said, I have been feeling discouraged lately, I’m only human. I have been rejected over & over & over & over. I have been ignored, dissed, abandoned, avoided, treated like I have the plague on social media & LinkedIn. It is starting to wear on me.

Everybody is either too famous, in-demand, exclusive or already has a network they have allegiance to. People are too involved with their projects, businesses, big dreams, love affairs, kids, pets, plans, relationships, responsibilities, families, jobs, careers, chores, errands, school, activities. People are consumed, distracted, on a schedule & have allegiance to everything that’s important to them. Essentially, no body has room for me at the table. I get it. I’m not mad. I just feel like I have to say it out loud, before it drives me totally up a wall, cause I have no one to vent it to. This past Christmas morning, an old friend from H.S. sent me her email address with the green light to send her my press release & that was literally the best thing that happened to me that whole day, if that says anything. People who have stuck around in the background of my life, faintly lingering, are just being polite as far as I’m concerned. Folks that were my restaurant customers at some point who had a special rapport with me back then, are beginning to now fade almost indefinitely out of the picture, I can feel it on both a fundamental & energetic level.

I had a boss one time at a restaurant I worked at 6 years ago, that fired me & when he did, he said that he only hired me in the first place because he felt sorry for me, not because of my resume, skills, personality or because I was qualified. Well, that stuck with me, because that was really insulting, not to mention he fired me for a totally unfair sexist reason, on my 40th birthday & actually had the nerve to slight my weight in the process. My point is, that even though I’m long over it, sometimes I feel like the girl from 6 years ago, even though I am totally NOT that girl anymore, anger issues & mommy /daddy issues & all. I am done feeling like the stray dog or the orphan, the one that has no kids, family or partner, the damaged goods, the addict archetype, the party girl, the late bloomer, the one who has no place to go on holidays or whatever. I might stand alone in this room with two cats, but I’m on the verge of a really great new beginning, I just know it.

I’ve been camped out in a graveyard of sorts for quite some time. Even my FB friend collection feels like just another dimension of dead relationships that no longer serve me. No matter how many new groups I join or new virtual friends I add… it just seems like a fruitless endeavor. It’s hard to watch people fade away that don’t match you anymore. It’s hard to watch like when you don’t love a mate anymore & you break the news. You want them to be happy and so you continue to try to serve them in some way, but to no avail because what they need you no longer have. And, vice versa. That said, from now on I’ve decided to pretend that no one is watching & just DANCE. I will keep producing, publishing & creating. That’s what I do, that’s what I got, that’s my purpose & that is what I am here for.

I’m not going to lower the volume of my spirit, dim my light, or dull my shine, just because I feel like people can’t handle it, aren’t paying attention, are too busy, don’t really give a hoot or appear to vehemently resist most of the uncomfortable truths that I typically unmask. I’m not gonna NOT use big or extravagant words sometimes cause the reader might have to Google it. (God forbid, my stuff isn’t on a 5th-grade reading level) Life is not about making yourself small to fit in. And life is too short to stew in a cemetery of headstones that read in small print: here lies everything you’ve ever known that no longer serves you. The little voice in my head is whispering loudly: “Step away from the creepy woods & worn stones of old.” So, I’m just gonna boldly step forward & release whatever unhealthy crap is wallpapering my comfort zone, and soar on, friends… & you should too, if you are feeling that is what you need to do also.

The most precious gift you can give someone is your TIME, most of all… then, of course, your undivided attention, & being 100% authentic is always a given. And, I don’t get that from anyone, really, especially from the “usual suspects,” like the mom, friend, aunt, cousin, son. Quick example, I sent a handful of text messages back home to like 5 or 6 people including my son, his brothers, my cousin, & 2 guys I consider like brothers… about my books & my new YouTube channel & I received ZERO reply. That was a week or two ago. No congrats, no encouragement, no NOTHING, but radio silence. But, two days ago, I did get a random text from my son’s mother saying he got his driving permit. Which of course I cordially congratulated him on, like a respectful considerate human being that has manners should.

I refuse to give up. I might not have a family or support or intimacy or anyone who really believes in me or would even notice If I was gone or dead in here for a few days before decomp set in… but, I am okay with that. I believe in me, & my Angels, guides & cats do too, & that’s what I got. It’s just more of a reason to continue to be blatantly honest with real talk in real-time, push forward with everything I have inside, not feel defeated, attacked or falsely defined, & especially not allow old programs to sabotage my greatness & foreseeable success. I am going to keep believing in my dreams despite the odds. I didn’t come this far to not be seen or heard. I am meant for big things, the curtain is just about to open. I will keep you posted then, thanks for reading.

Click below to get your copies of my two new books & read all about my life story in them. Or follow any of the links to jump on my team, would love to have ya. And, I made an incredible “music video” for my books down below featured on my new Youtube channel if you want to check out my newest Art. Just PRESS PLAY below & it won’t even redirect, it plays right here & now. Thanks!

The Opportunity Knocks Box:

“It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe

It don’t matter, anyhow

An’ it ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe

If you don’t know by now

When your rooster crows at the break of dawn

Look out your window and I’ll be gone

You’re the reason I’m trav’lin’ on

Don’t think twice, it’s all right…”

—-Bob Dylan

The whistler

We have a whistler where I live. He paces around here in the mornings & whistles all kinds of stuff. I heard the national anthem yesterday via whistle… then some Rhiana song, lol. The guy has some talent. A whistler reminds me of the ending of a “Moonlighting” episode from back in the 80s. Bruce Willis & Cybil Shepherd famously had that taboo sorta romance that never actually materialized really. The plot writers just strung us along on a juicy tale of call me maybes… lol.

A whistler always reminds me of a play stage set in the pre-war 20s era. A guy in a jeff cap & suspenders exiting stage left with a see ya later whistle. A whistler makes me picture the end of an old detective movie even, when the mystery is solved… & the rogue detective disappears down the lonely street into the rising sewer pipe steam. Storylines for a whistle have endless possibilities.

Ya know what’s nice about a whistler? Ya can’t tell what color they are, gender, race, age, religion… a whistler is anonymous in a sense, just an echoing little reminder that we are all one brand of being… Human.

I live in the weirdest apartment complex ever, for real. And everybody who knows where I live, gets it. This is kinda gross, but there are like hundreds of people who live in buildings A-F on this property & it sure seems like every single one made a bet with each other to see who can hock the most spit. What is wrong with people? Zero class, zero consideration for others, just plain unsanitary. I literally do not touch any railings & tiptoe around here like I’m walking through a land mine most days. Dirty, messy, uncouth, unevolved, unhealthy, unwell people exist right in the backyard, folks.

Then… there is a huge community of feral cats here… like a hundred or so, which we all pitch in to feed, but that doesn’t seem to help. They still multiply despite our efforts to fix & spay. They fight at night, & when it rains here… the cat pee saturated ground lifts to serenade the senses with such an intoxicating aroma that I have to shut all my windows & doors. Not to mention, one lot over, there is a small “tent city” filled with mostly alcoholic homeless people who linger around the property like sad abandoned pets. All of it, breaks my heart, honestly. Poverty, hunger & homelessness exists right in the backyard, folks.

The guy downstairs wakes us all up every Saturday morning with INXS “Don’t Change” ON REPEAT, blaring out his wide-open apartment… over & over & over again, until he passes out I guess, & it gets all quiet all of a sudden. Some days it’s a whole “Heart” album & he drunkenly sings along with every song, it’s actually pretty legendary. But on the contrary, like a real live scene out of a Teen Scream flick… there is a young like 23-year-old girl who has screaming fits out underneath the steps sometimes. She screams bloody murder for like 2 hours straight like a horror movie actor. Cops eventually show up & they get screamed at too… it’s kinda funny. But not… cause there really is something seriously wrong with her. Depression, suicide, PTSD & major mental illnesses exist right in the backyard, folks.

There are a lot of random retired New Yorkers here, big wigs who aged out of the restaurant business living on social security, a bunch of retired truck drivers divorced & estranged from any semblance of family & a plethora of people who more than qualify for disability checks. EVERYONE has a story. My former next-door neighbor, this old strung out retired stockbroker from Bosten, used to tell me stories of being an errand boy for Whitey Bolger, back when he was a kid. One neighbor of mine, is the same age as Donald Trump, back in the day in NYC his highschool used to play Trump’s highschool in sports, lol. My other neighbor who since passed away… jammed with Eric Clapton a few times back in the 70s. Old, lonely, sad, abandoned, washed-out has-beens exist right in the backyard, folks.

Heck, an infamous retired old bank robber lived here once. A bunch of junkies & pseudo King Pins still do live here. The sex offender registry has quite a few hits on the apartment complex map, unfortunately. And if you look at the town’s mug shot page on the police blotter, you will recognize half of my neighborhood. It’s a little unnerving, lol. Criminals, con-artists, creepers, dealers & addicts exist right in the backyard, folks.

Thank god for “the whistler.” If it wasn’t for him, raising our attention to greener pastures around here, this place would definitely be a shade darker, lol. Every neighborhood should have one.

Maybe one day I will write a book on that.

But for now… I offer you THIS:

BOOK 1: https://www.amazon.com/Age-Aquarius-practical-guide-bringing/dp/B08TQ7F2CB/
BOOK 2: https://www.amazon.com/Decline-Civility-Pt-Trilogy-occasion/dp/B08TRLB7YG/

December 21, 2020 was a very special winter solstice. It was a landmark event in the time-space continuum that will go down in history. It was the mark of the end of “The Dark Ages” of man. In Sanskrit, it is called the Kali Yuga: the age of conflict. We have been in a string of dark ages for quite some time. On 12.21.20, humanity officially birthed the Age of Aquarius. In Sanskrit, it is called Satya Yuga or Krita Yuga, which is the age of truth, virtue and righteousness. The Ancient Atlantean ones lived in this age long ago, & now we have come full circle. Let us rejoice… for finally, humanity has come to this beautiful dawning of the ages.

Want to know more? My two new books cover EVERYTHING. These are two books you don’t want to miss

Jenay D Zapparelli FOLLOW my Author Page! Never miss a beat… & buy books here!

“Live a soul-inspired life” is not just a trendy bumper sticker.

Thanks for reading!

#InLoveWeTrust

Subjects: Nonfiction > Inspirational > Motivational > Health & Wellness > Self-empowerment > Self-development > Ascension > New Earth > 5th Dimension > Human Potential Movement > Real History > Pop Culture > Autobiography > Cosmic Consciousness > Animal Rights > Human Rights > Holistic Healing > Addiction Recovery > Mindfulness > Spirit Guides > Nature > Mysticism > Spirituality > Social Justice >America > Mind, Body, Spirit > Soul Mastery > Metaphysics > Quantum Mechanics > The Great Awakening > Chakras > Energy > Meditation


Montessori Moves: New Earth Style

Back in the late nineties, I had a job once as a teacher’s aide at a daycare center in Northeast Philly. I was 23 & my 19-year-old partner in crime coworker & I used to meet up early every day right before work to burn a joint down in her car out back in the alley. Afterward, we would frolic like besties into the place, all pie-eyed & giggly, clock in & proceed to basically play with a bunch of 2 to 6-year-olds for 5 hours. It was a ball, let me tell you. But then, it only took a few weeks for me to see what was really going on beneath it all.

I began to notice that the teachers were not high like us... they were STONED… off of something way stronger than weed. They were on Xannies, Percs, & Vicodins. And instead of the narcotics making these pre-school teachers more chill, they made them intolerant & impatient & they screamed & yelled at the children in a really abrasive way. They crossed the line by pulling at shirts, squeezing arms & shoving them into their seats. It was not pleasant behavior to witness. And for those of you who know my story, that definitely was a true trigger for me, especially back in my early 20s. There was no way I was gonna continue to stand by & let that kind of child abuse happen on my watch.

Not to mention, these teachers were clearly jaded, had no real passion for the job, & were not happy campers, to say it lightly. I attempted to have a concerned chat or two with them, but they all seemed to be in a teacher bitch-click of sorts that my friend & I were not welcome in. We were only menial aides that made 6 dollars an hour, after all. All the while, to top it all off, every toy in the entire daycare facility was grimy, dirty, germy & never cleaned, even though I & my friend attempted to do so. It was a double whammy of toxicity, between the teachers & toys. No wonder why these kids were always sniveling, whiny & sick.

To make a long story short, I wrote a long detailed letter to the administration on behalf of what I intently thought was right. And I had two things said to me after she read it & called me into her office. One, “you belong in Montessori school,” & two, “we are gonna have to let you go.” Well, one… I had no idea what a Montessori school was, & literally had to look it up in an actual dictionary cause it was like 1997. Two, that day… they ripped me from all those little precious relationships I had, up to & including my cool ass little hippie chic weed-mate. The kids cried, I cried, it was awful. And that was it. Game over.

The Montessori method of education is an educational method developed by Italian physician Maria Montessori. Emphasizing independence, it views children as naturally eager for knowledge and capable of initiating learning in a sufficiently supportive and well-prepared learning environment. A Montessori education develops students who are capable, accountable, knowledgeable people who have the strong sense of self they will need to thrive in the real world.

Well, no one will ever send me home sobbing again, with my heart in my hand & my dignity all wrinkled up in a ball in my pocket. I plan to be heard & promoted to CEO this time around. I am retiring the “Undercover Boss” role. I will be dropping the word undercover, so I can just be BOSS. I didn’t write a letter this time, I wrote TWO BOOKS. I have created a fight song, for not only our children, but for our planet, the animals & our very souls.

December 21, 2020 was a very special winter solstice. It was a landmark event in the time-space continuum that will go down in history. It was the mark of the end of “The Dark Ages” of man. In Sanskrit, it is called the Kali Yuga: the age of conflict. We have been in a string of dark ages for quite some time. On 12.21.20, humanity officially birthed the Age of Aquarius. In Sanskrit, it is called Satya Yuga or Krita Yuga, which is the age of truth, virtue and righteousness. The Ancient Atlantean ones lived in this age long ago, & now we have come full circle. Let us rejoice… for finally, humanity has come to this beautiful dawning of the ages.

Want to know more? My two new books cover EVERYTHING. These are two books you don’t want to miss

BOOK 1: https://www.amazon.com/Age-Aquarius-practical-guide-bringing/dp/B08TQ7F2CB/
BOOK 2: https://www.amazon.com/Decline-Civility-Pt-Trilogy-occasion/dp/B08TRLB7YG/

“Live a soul-inspired life” is not just a trendy bumper sticker.

Jenay D Zapparelli FOLLOW my Author Page! Never miss a beat… & buy books here!

Thanks for reading.

#InLoveWeTrust

What Act are YOU in?

GIANT Ageless Beauties List below! Stick around… (It’ll be fun!)

I know I know. Age is just a number. But what an awefully darn AWESOME number it is!! It shows strength, vigor, edurance, last-ability, character, courage, stamina, spirit!

Who doesn’t like a list of celebrities? I composed the list below of Ageless Beauties weeks ago in honor of today, but most of all… in honor of all the beautiful strong AMAZING women that INSPIRE me.

Today, in the 9th month on this 18th day, I turn 46!! Yay! Thanks in advance for all your thoughtful wishes! Blessings to all my favorite sweet friends & associates! ❤  

Getting older is a gift. A boost to new levels! It is another year under the belt, another year spent with precious loved ones. An initiation of sorts, it is an invitation to your next chapter. It is a wiser you, a more experienced you, hopefully an improved version of you. It is the closer we get not to death but to awakening fully to life! I love it. I think each year older is an accomplishment. Straight up.

I am proud of conquering another 365 days of being here on this exceptionally oddball loco-ass planet. Who isn’t? I must say, it is the most challenging, baffling, scandalous, unsettling era in all of human history. Unfortunately, God rest their souls, many folks didn’t make it through this nutzo year. No one can deny these unprecedented times. We ALL deserve a PARTY… lol.

In the sage words of our dear old friend Kermie the frog: “It’s not easy being green.” Speaking of which, guess who else is 46 years young this year? That’s right, you guessed it… none other than the darling, the ravishing, the showstopping gem… drum roll please!
Miiiiiiiizzzzzz PIGGY!

Who says aging is a downward spiral? I feel honored to be in the over 40, now over 45 club! The following fabulous AGELESS BEAUTIES are exactly why aging is so darn admirable & amazing. Who wouldn’t want to be in this club?

Shout out to all the gorgeous stunning strong women out there in my circle, generation, H.S. graduating class of ’92, & all those in my sphere of influence! A toast to our impending & (actual) Third Act! May it blow Act One & Two right out of the water…!

Buckle your seat-belt, kids… this list will sail ya right down memory lane, time sure does fly…

What ACT are YOU in??

  • Jewel, Alanis Morissette, Penélope Cruz & Hilary Swank just turned 46 too! #1974
  • I gotta mention (even though he is not a girl) Jimmy Fallen turns 46 one day after me!
  • Tiffany Haddish is 40
  • Chelsea Clinton is 40
  • Rosario Dawson is 41
  • Eve is 41
  • Fergie is 42
  • Fiona Apple Is 42
  • Kerry Washington is 43
  • Shakira is 43
  • Jada Pinkett Smith is 43
  • Naomi Campbell is 44
  • Taraji P Henson is 44
  • Nia Long is 44
  • Reese Witherspoon is 44
  • Drew Barrymore is 45
  • Charlize Theron is 45
  • Eva Longoria is 45
  • Angelina Jolie is 45
  • Tyra Banks is 46
  • Eva Mendes is 46
  • Victoria Beckam is 46
  • Amy Adams is 46
  • Lil Kim is 46
  • Kate Beckinstall is 47
  • Heidi Klum is 47
  • Gwyneth Paltrow is 47
  • Gabrielle Union is 47
  • Juliette Lewis is 47
  • Alyssa Milano is 47
  • Cameron Diaz is 48
  • Sofia Vergara is 48
  • Jennifer Garner is 48
  • Meg Ryan is 48
  • Winona Ryder is 48
  • Maya Rudolph is 48
  • Mary J Blige is 49
  • Viola Davis 49
  • Regina Hall is 49
  • Uma Therman is 50
  • Giada De Laurentiis is 50
  • Gwen Stefani is 50
  • Faith Hill is 50
  • Queen Latifah is 50
  • Mariah Carey is 50
  • Catherine Zeta Jones is 50
  • Melania Trump is 50
  • Madea is only 50!! lol
  • Jennifer Aniston is 51
  • Lucy Liu is 51
  • Jennifer Lopez is 51
  • Naomi Watts is 51
  • Lisa Loeb is 52
  • Debra Messing is 52
  • Kylie Minogue is 52
  • Lisa Bonet is 52
  • Shania Twain is 52
  • Celine Dion is 52
  • Sarah Mclaughlin is 52
  • Ashley Judd is 52
  • Rachael Ray is 52
  • Julia Roberts is 52
  • Sinéad O’Connor is 53
  • Nicole Kidman is 53
  • Halle Berry is 54
  • Salma Hayek is 54
  • Janet Jackson is 54
  • Björk is 54
  • Paula Abdul is 55
  • Marisa Tomei is 55
  • Elizabeth Hurley is 55
  • Diane Lane is 55
  • Sheryl Crow is 55
  • Sarah Jessica Parker is 55.
  • Brooke Shields is 55
  • Hoda Kotb is 56
  • Sandra Bullock is 56
  • Vivica Fox is 56
  • Natalie Merchant is 56
  • Michelle Obama is 56
  • Sandra Bullock is 56
  • Jodie Foster is 57
  • Vanessa Williams is 57
  • Demi Moore is 57
  • Tori Amos is 57
  • Meg Ryan is 58
  • Joan Osborne is 58
  • Sheryl Crow is 58
  • Enya is 59
  • Robin Roberts is 59
  • Julia Louis-Dreyfus is 59
  • Melissa Etheridge is 59
  • Jamie Lee Curtis is 61
  • Sade is 61
  • Joan Jett is 61
  • Suzanne Vega is 61
  • Susanna Hoffs is 61
  • Madonna is 62
  • Michelle Pfeiffer is 62
  • Sharon Stone is 62
  • Vanna White is 63
  • Gloria Estefan is 63
  • Melanie Griffith is 63
  • Siouxsie Sioux is 63
  • Kim Kittrell is 64
  • Andie MacDowell is 64
  • Whoopi Goldberg is 64
  • Annie Lennox is 65
  • Christie Brinkley is 66
  • Oprah Winfrey is 66
  • Robin McGraw is 66
  • Kathy Lee Gifford is 67
  • Cyndi Lauper is 67
  • Chaka Khan is 67
  • Pat Benatar is 67
  • Kirsty Alley is 69
  • Sigourney Weaver is 70
  • Bonnie Raitt is 70
  • Cher is 71
  • Shelly Long is 71
  • Meryl Streep is 71
  • Hilary Clinton is 72
  • Stevie Nicks is 72
  • Susanne Sommers is 73
  • Susan Sarandon is 73
  • Dolly Parton is 74
  • Bette Midler is 74
  • Carly Simon is 75
  • Gladys Knight is 76
  • Diana Ross is 76
  • Joni Michell is 76
  • Carole King is 78
  • Joan Baez is 79
  • Tina Turner is EIGHTY!!
  • Grace Slick is 80
  • Judy Collins is 81
  • Jane Fonda is 82!!!
  • Thee Mizz Betty White is 98!!!!

Well if that list isn’t packed with a punch, I don’t know what is!!

What Act of Life are you in?

First Act: in drama the first act is used to establish the dramatic situation and introduce the main characters. At the end of the first act, a provocative incident complicates the story and moves the screenplay into the second act.

  • This is childhood through young adulthood, when we set the stage for our lives, choose our career path and relationships.

Second Act: the second act, commonly described as “rising action,” typically depicts the protagonist attempting to solve the problems caused by the provocative incident. The climax, which ends the second act, is the scene or sequence in which the main tension and dramatic questions of the story are brought to their most intense point.

  • This is the era from 35 or so to the 50’s, what has been typically recognized as midlife.

Third Act: the third act features the resolution of the story and its subplots. This is the time in which life’s loose ends, unresolved plotlines, & the denouement of life becomes apparent.

  • This is the era from age 50 onward.

Denouement de·noue·ment

/ˌdāno͞oˈmäN/

noun

the final part of a play, movie, or narrative in which the strands of the plot are woven together and matters are explained or resolved.

Love, Light & Blessings! To whichever beautiful ACT you’re in!

VISIT: zappurcopy.com

Leather & Cigarettes

20190909_1822294434064275240824107.jpg

Today is my birthday, was born September 18th 1974, hurricane season. Stay tuned for a bitchin’ 80s rewind, after I bring ya up to speed on the current temp of me now, circa 2019. Not quite sure how interesting I am to ya, so, if you only have time for the 80s Rewind, feel free to scroll down to: Leather & Cigarettes. Otherwise, Class of ’92 folks, & all my Gen-Xer peers, will enjoy this whole article. Keep reading!

For the past 5 years, I have been going stag. It’s been my great pleasure to be removed from the relationship dynamic, to rewire my programs & become totally free. A few weeks ago, I cut my hair pretty short, cause I am ready to begin a new chapter. Aaaaaand… it starts NOW. If you would like to gift me on my special day… BUY BOOK HERE>

Many thanks!

Regarding my birth date, technically the cusp doesn’t start until tomorrow, but after much research over the years, I definitively consider myself both a Virgo & a Libra. For those of you who roll yer eyes & think astrology is a myth, think again. The movement, science & design of the planets, moon & stars significantly influence everything. Up to & including you there pal, whether you agree or not. Kinda like God. The God Force & Universal law indefinitely eternally exist & are indeed structurally sound, no matter what, beyond what any man decides to think or say about it.

“In Astrology, your Birthday is known as your Solar Return. It’s when the Sun returns to the precise position it was at the moment you took your first breath as your “Sun Sign” here on earth. Ever wondered where the Birthday greeting “many happy returns” comes from? Well, now you know. Every single year that passes, your transiting Sun returns to the exact location in the heavens as your natal sun… providing unique insight into the planetary energies and influences that will affect your upcoming year.”

—www.numerologist.com

I turn 45 today. The U.S. is in the age of the 45th president, El Trump-O. And, here’s a little numerology for ya… feel free to scroll past if you’re not interested.

A number’s meaning can be thought of as the number’s basic tone or vibration. As an overview, the numerology number 45 represents a composite energy containing the ideas of:

  • Humanitarianism
  • Compassion
  • Pragmatism
  • Conscientiousness
  • Adventure

The 45 essence contains:

  • the 9’s essence, such as humanitarianism, compassion, and philanthropy,
  • plus a dose of the 4’s focus, pragmatism, and conscientiousness.
  • plus a dose of the 5’s adventure, curiosity, and expression of personal freedom.

The result is a unique essence.

45 is pragmatic, not easily persuaded by hyperbole. It is an active existence. And generous with its skills and time. It’s creative, tolerant, compassionate, and intent on doing the world some good.

The number 45 essence generally prefers interaction with others.

It’s also worldly and sophisticated, and has a global consciousness — aware that much needs to be done to bring humanity to a more ideal existence. It’s both idealistic and pragmatic. It provides generous charity for individuals and organizations dedicated to the benefit of mankind.

The essence is nonjudgmental, deeming no value difference between itself, its neighbors, and people living in different cultures in other parts of the world. There’s no judgement of lifestyles, societal expectations, religious beliefs, and political practices — unless they oppose the work 45 is doing, in which case 45 can be quite persistent in accomplishing the vision regardless of opposition.

Imagine welfare of humanity as your highest priority. Compassion and tolerance are innate, as is idealism. You are pragmatic in your pursuit of helping people and you get results. Occasionally, you go off on an adventure, yet are always conscious that things need to be done to get humankind on a better plane.

That’s 45.

—affinitynumerology.com

Honestly, I think 45 years old, is young. I love my age. I don’t dread another birthday or shame getting older. I think it’s a true achievement to have conquered another year on this planet. And it’s a sheer privilege to get to embark on yet another go of it this year, despite the risks (though, isn’t that what makes it fun?). I don’t feel old, I feel wise. I feel accomplished. I feel initiated, or finally sworn into the Cool Kids Club. We are seasoned, have seniority, clout, accrued standards, strong muscles, a well defined palate, clear boundaries, plenty of life experience, a depth of vast understanding, a valid proven stand point & a pretty boss vocab, if ya ask me. If we were a stock… our holders would be pretty rich by now.

I feel like the mid-aged ruby red fine 100% proud to be Italian… wine, I am. I might not be old vine oak yet… but, I’m definitely spiked with subtle notes of warm toasted apple cigar box vanilla. I definitely feel more powerful, healthy, abundant, whole & balanced more than ever before, despite my tendency to sulk & question my whole existence once a week. After select long pauses of quiet desperation, or voracious venting fits to a good listener… I usually bounce back pretty fast.

I gotta say though, despite my wisdom, I most definitely picked the Fool card out of the Tarot deck a time or two (or three) in the past few years. Learning lessons the hard way by trial & error, is definitely not my favorite thing. But, oh well… a sense of humor… is like, in a bejeweled holster on my hip, for the golden quick draw of self-deprecating oh so charming sweet sweet sarcasm.

If I couldn’t laugh & have a tail wagger with four paws & stink feet, I would have been a statistic long ago. Those of us with brain damage from a history of heavy drug use, have a few more emotional loose strings than the average Joe or Jill. Not making excuses, just saying. “Recovered addict” folks have to catch up the lazy brain parts that got left behind nodded out under a tree somewhere. Whether its two years or 20, the last time a person got high, the lazy brain is always having to up its game. It’s a lifelong process. This Opioid crisis we have right now in the midst of humanity is gonna wind up eventually turning into a lazy brain crisis when they all get clean, & droves of folks have to retrain their brains to catch up. It’s the nature of the beast. Oh well, all the best to ya, mates…

Since its my birthday, I think it’s fitting to say, I certainly believe in ageless beauty, unedited, unfiltered, minimal make-up if any, bra-less (if I lived in Spain) & pretty much… no airs. Just me, sitting on the dock of the bay swingin my feet watchin’ the gulls play & the little waves bounce. I like to think I am past having to explain myself to anyone, & over the hump of trying too hard or people pleasing. What you see is what you get, drama doesn’t do anything for me, & responding rather than reacting is a good skill. I’ve honed in on the ability to think>>>things>>>through. And, those moments that deserve no filter & the uncensored truth… I’m your gal. 🙂

Self preservation is of utmost importance at this stage of the game. I have my RX regimen down pat pretty good by now. I believe in natural organic earthy preservation of youth. Clean eating, exercise, stretching, meditation, recalibrating the soul via communion with nature. Stress will put ya underground in a box fast, (not to mention, give ya bags, lines & wrinkles). I try not to worry too much, despite my tendency to get melancholy & hormonal on special occasions. Paying attention, & slowing down once in a while… popping out from behind the techno curtain of the screen, is usually a good idea.

I believe in downtime, a good night’s sleep, solitude, & regular R&R, just as much as rigorous activity, ambitious pursuit, & social engagement. If you are gonna “work hard,” “play hard,” I guess. Balance & moderation are our best co-pilots. I don’t believe in regrets, that’s no fun. I can’t say I practice what I preach all the time… but who can? We are all flawed little human captives of Earth. I don’t believe in deterioration, either. 99 is the new 50, haven’t ya heard? We have slowed down the aging process… kudos to us! Remember those days when our grandparents were only like 30, & they looked not a day under 55? Lol. The idea of aging felt so grim back then.

Regarding the likes of “shit happening,” what’s done is done. No use in worrying or obsessing or running around like a nut in the jungle of thorny “why me” trees. What for? Who cares. No one is keeping score, really. It’s all imaginary bullshit jibber jabbering in your head like a penny jangling around in a tin can piggy bank. What ya did or didn’t do, what ya coulda, shoulda, woulda, & how your life would be so next level, if you weren’t such a dumb-ass whenever that random time was before. Why do that to yourself? It’s not nice. Let it go. It’s time. No use in getting the panties in a wad, sweating small stuff or bein’ your own worst enemy ‘n’ shit. Spilled milk is exactly that: spilled. And, for the record, the future can be totally shifted in your favor still yet based on your behavior in the present… to not have anxiety over it, & instead visualize its glory. Up to you there, champ.

Those pesky times when I find that I’m caught up in the struggle, I remind myself of how it could be so much worse. A bee coulda flew in my can of Pepsi today & then stung the crap outta my lips, or, I coulda got food poisoning & been trapped in a work bathroom stall of all places, or I coulda locked BOTH sets of keys in the car, or dropped my phone in the unflushed toilet bowl (yellow rice for dinner anyone?).

Not to minimize the impact of anyone’s twist of fate, bad luck, mood or day, but some people are like trapped in refugee prison camps n shit. Keep trucking, everything improves eventually. It’s the nature of duality & 3 dimensional gravity. What goes up must come down, & vice versa. I try to keep in mind that life is a big goddamn paradoxical adventure filled with discrepancies & contradictions that alotta times don’t even make sense. Everything seems alright in the world, until all of a sudden IT’S NOT. Blind sided, like a little bitch. So, “So what, who cares”… is my newest motto. Life goes on. A strong level of detachment proves a trusty companion.

Hootin’, hollarin’, whining, crying, struggling & trying, permitted only in micro bursts. It all comes down to two things (unless you live in Comfortzone-ville on Complacent Street) one, the ability to tuck the fear-based ego back into its wasps nest & dare to live free despite its rather rude interference & two, coping skills. Which yes, people, I’m still polishing.

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I gotta say, I don’t prefer the company of those who feel they have to put people down to feel good about themselves or who play the holier than thou card to gain leverage or advantage. We are all different. Every circumstance, & experience… is tailored to a unique moment in time. I’ve learned, true empathy comes only from walking in another persons shoes. Otherwise, it’s just mere ego based speculation. You can keep that shit in the junk drawer next to the scissors, old keys, random pills & shriveled up balloon animals.

“It is what it is,” another good slogan to iron on your tee shirt. You & me & everyone else are exactly where we are meant to be, in the scheme of things, all things considered. We are then thus where indeed we are supposed to be… which is, here, in this moment, which, if we are good little conscious creators… Is where we will choose to be grateful.

#GratfulAF

The Universe has playfully paired me with a feline reflection at this time in my life, by perfect whisker snouted sweet design. Her name is MOOSE, and she is the coolest alive stuffed animal ever, & very much a hit in my circle. She has proven to be thee most social butterfly cat that ever lived, a service animal/emotional support cat of sorts, & can most likely be labeled a 100% genuine Cat-DOG, with a kissing issue. She is the most loved animal, I have ever had. She is so open that she lets me massage her tail, bite her lips, pull her whiskers, scratch in between her toes, pick her nose, smack her belly & flick her ears. Sometimes, I don’t even think she’s real. She’s just an illusory fun magic cartoon creature that Angels or Aliens sent me temporarily… to help me through. Hahahahaha…

This year on this birthday, I have made an executive decision to not allow myself to be bullied by lack, limitation or loneliness. I have decided once & for all, to not ever again focus on… what I DO NOT have (for long periods of time, anyway)… It screws up my manifestation skills & messes royally with my point of attraction, prohibiting me from creating the life I deserve. Also, included in some clause in fine print somewhere, I have decided not to set myself up, due to the haunts of prior patterns.

That said, previous years, unfortunately, on or around my birthday, I have been pulled over (& all that comes with it), hand cuffed, locked up, beat up, jumped, chased, robbed, broke down on the side of the road, incarcerated or in a rehab, fired from several (good) jobs, kicked out unexpectedly of some living situation, living in my car, curled up in a ball crying my eyes out, sitting in an ER somewhere, & I got a really bad case of Bells Palsy (my second month in Wilmington @ birthday #41) which completely rocked my world in the most terrifying way. And, I haven’t told anyone this in a long while… But, back in the day… 20 years ago… my prison inmate # was my exact birth date (091874) when I got arrested>>>on my exact birthday<<< the year of 9/11. And those inmate #’s are TOTALLY RANDOM. Um, weird coincidence.

Strung around my birthday week like a halo of spinning cartooned tweetie birds when ya get the wind knocked out of ya, my bell always got rung over the years, it never failed. Somehow, whether I like it or not, it always seems, that some big giant monumental change is destined to shake things up around the day of my birth, a sinister reset button, if you will.

My ex threw me a surprise party at age 21 or 22, circa 1995-ish, which was magical, & all my loved ones were there, but after that… the book of my birthdays had some whole other shit planned. That was 25 years ago. That’s a crapload of birthdays, I felt impending doom since. My birthday, even up until last year, had a black cloud looming in the background, which wound up pouring acid rain on me pretty hard, in a most unexpected way. Just when ya think you are in the clear (and you have a bunch of positive fortune cookie fortunes to prove it)… a bomb drops. That was the buried belief I’ve had for a long time, so, I’ve been tiptoeing around the sleeping dogs of September with my helmet on for a while now.

Today, it all changes. Like I said, it’s executive decision time. Impending doom… be gone!! Tough times, unwelcome surprises, self sabotage, betrayal, repeat offenses, illness, anger, arguments, fights & volatile disagreements… ENDED, over, null, void, banished. So it is! This September, & from now forward I am changing my fate. “Attention! Henchmen of the Black Cloud Council… stay the fudge in your lane, I’m not your bitch anymore.”

Moving on to brighter days then, I will have you know that doesn’t mean I’m now magically crowned a little angel with perfect manners. I may not welcome gloom or doom any longer, but I sure as shit will always keep the screen door unlocked for those savvy little charming guilty pleasures, once in a while.

Speaking of the little devils… you got me, I admit it, even though I gave it up (like 78 separate times), not a day goes by that I don’t really really want a cigarette. It’s my 45th birthday… maybe I will smoke one today, just for old times sake. Fine, I will pretend it’s a cigar, which is more celebratory & socially acceptable then, if that keeps my moral compass’ trap shut. A nice cold mentholy strong street gang Newport 100 with that sneaky little sweet rush at the end. Dang things. Givin’ up the sheer swag of the cool factor was probably always the hardest part of the “quit,” honestly. Love that prop… it was my thing. Gum, candy & toothpicks just don’t say: “keep your shit up… & I’ll smack ya one,” quite like the lovely pairing of a stink eye & a smoke hanging from a bottom lip does. Jus sayin’…

The following is a list of celebrities my age, in the 45club, you might know & love. We were all wee tykes, eating outta Muppets, Star Wars, Smurfs, He Man, Hulk, Barbie, or Care Bears lunch boxes in fifth grade in 1985. We were all likely playing the shit outta some Tag, doing cartwheels & hand stands, competing who could swing higher, jumping rope, climbing trees or monkey bars & jumping into piles of coats… lol.

Jimmy Fallon (we are only born a day apart); David Muir; Penelope Cruz; Leonardo DiCaprio; Jay from “Jay & silent Bob,” Allanis Morrisette, Julian Castro (D), Mos Def, Beanie Sigel, Amy Adams, Christian Bale, Eva Mendes, Seth MacFarlane, Victoria Beckem, Nas, Hilary Swank, Derek Jeeter, Tyra Banks, Steve-O, Mario Lopez, Neve Campbell, Jenna Jameson, Seth Myers, Nick Lachey, Kate Moss, CeeLo Green, Terrell Owens, Jillian Michaels, Ryan Seacrest, Lil Kim, Nelly, Joaquin Phoenix, Elizabeth Banks, Ryan Phillipe, Chloe Sevigny, Alyson Hannigan, Giovanni Ribisi, Dale Earnhardt Jr.

Settle in, pop the corn… In honor of my Gen-X co-conspirators… I’m about to herald the 1980s!

Leather & Cigarettes

The aroma of leather & cigarettes mingling in the air reminds me of my Pop when he was in his prime. It was back in the day when Rock & Bowl was the signature spot on a Saturday night, feathered winged back hair was trendy, & you could win a feathered roach clip at the neighborhood carnival (I really did). Knee socks were in, “Lipsycning” was cool, the Kmart snack bar was still kickin’, & my mom called jeans: dungarees. “Three’s Company” was winding into its last season, everybody knew your name at a bar affectionately called “Cheers,” & “Campfire” TV was just beginning to fade away as the VCR was invented. My mom had a 78 burnt orange gremlin with white stripes & no seat belts she just traded in for a red/orange barely loaded, as is, plastic made 80s Honda. I was always scared to get into that thing, even at age 7, I knew it was a deathtrap.

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Like the kind you might still find bolted to a wood work bench in a hole in the wall small town dusty mechanic’s garage, we still had rotary telephones. Mustard yellow, baby blue or army green colored ones hung on the wall with stretched out tangled cords that hit the ground. And how could anyone forget that ring? That earth-shattering oh so vociferous ring tone would shake windows, & shrill right through walls & down the street & slap ya in the face if it could. We also had big push button phones too then, with big bulky answering machines with removable mini cassette tapes. It was the age of digital clocks & watches, sweat bands, boom boxes, wicker & that tacky mirrored wallpaper left over from the 70s in everybody’s powder room.

With forensic science only in its infancy stage, the infamous cannibal Jeffrey Dahmer was just getting warmed up, joyfully leaving his DNA all over the place with no regrets. “Dead Heads” & VW buses were spotted all over town, & free basing cocaine, now called “crack rock,” was the dangerous new craze amongst high & low brow circuits alike, making meth pale in comparison for a stretch.

Weed was called “dope,” joints, “doobies,”AIDS was feared, gays were hiding in plain sight, black lives matter was definitely not a thing yet, & women just entered the workplace in force as secretaries & what not. Main Street was still very much alive… with graffiti laced walls, but… the “store front” was still a booming industry. Walmart didn’t rule school yet, Mom & Pop were still tucking us in at night. Tailors, RX Drug Stores, Italian bakeries, butcher shops, boutiques, book stores & Jewish delis were still surviving around almost every corner.

Ronald Reagan the actor, just got elected President, you could still smoke on airplanes, & as disco flew out the door with bell-bottoms, MTV was just starting to catch fire. Heavy Metal was spawning cults & suicides, the New Wave British invasion would brand music history, Michael Jackson was about to go viral, Rap music was this underground sensation just beginning to bubble to the top, & Punk was definitely NOT dead.

{Fun Fact: Forensic DNA analysis was first used in 1984. It was developed by Sir Alec Jeffreys, who realized that variation in the genetic code could be used to identify individuals and to tell individuals apart from one another.}

My newly divorced Dad, early thirties, sporting a genuine leather “Thriller” jacket, was always takin’ me through the car-wash in his fully loaded leather-bound Lincoln Continental. It felt like a cool safari ride to mini-me then. Mysterious soapy snake things hitting the winda, the spooky suds made the car go dark inside & bein’ in neutral, felt like a phantom was the driver. My dad made it fun, he knew how to trick me, plus “Scooby Doo” was every kid’s staple back then, everything was somehow sneaky, suspicious & possibly haunted. Zoinks!

My dad had a brand new leased luxury vehicle every 2 or 3 years all his life, it was his M.O. Never seen anyone so smitten with their vehicles. It was how he represented himself to the world. The kind of car he drove was of utmost importance, especially when he pulled up to a customer’s house with carpet samples for an estimate. The guy was a sharp dresser & make no mistake, Caddies & Lincolns are where the buck stopped. The guy was obsessed with Turtle Wax, Armor All, old ripped up tee shirt rags & coconut spray car freshener. He always had tasty cakes in the center console, a lukewarm 7-11 coffee in the drink holder & the pull down ashtray was always kinda smoldering & full. No matter how clean the car was, there were always ashes flying around. Jimmy Carter was the guest of dishonor on right wing radio subliminally streaming always on in the background. I was like 8 or 9, adorned in those gumball ponytail holder pigtails or woven ribbon barrettes that hung down with beads. My pop always smelled good, had gold rings on & some fruity candy of some sort & I definitely thought my Dad was a Rock Star…

It was circa 1983, I had a killer sticker book (actually more like 3 or 4), courtesy of our father/daughter midweek moo-moo/Q-mart runs after school. Unicorns were definitely my spirit animal, E.T., stuffed animals, Atari, Sea Monkeys, Madonna, “Fraggle Rock,” & pretend friends my forte. I ran up to pet every single dog I saw, assaulted every gumball machine with a pulse, & I played every pinball machine, & piano I could get my little hands on. I reckon I still had a fighting chance at becoming a talented phenom maybe or just at least a regular productive emotionally stable human being with my own family & what not.

In the early eighties I had the dillusion that my mother could still be a somewhat sweet & kind nurturing soul (in there somewhere was the good fairy, I thought). My grandmother still had Sunday spaghetti dinners choc full of meat-a-balls-a, soss-age & braciole (pronounced: Braa-shole). My dad was moved out from the divorce, but everything still felt sort of pleasant to me for some reason, between migraines & crying spells anyway. When the snow fell on the County Line in those days, it still felt fresh & magical, & hot chocolate & Xmas cookies were filled with jam not fat, calories & guilt, & I felt like people still cared about me, & that I mattered. In retrospect, I was still little enough to be a liability I suppose… so grownups had no choice but to take care of me. That’s how I see it now… anyway.

Awe, bless her heart.

vv

Courtesy of: blurryoldphoto.com

lol

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Here they are… my uncle & my dad (on right)… the dynamic duo. Ernie & Gary, their names were almost synonymous with each other back in the day. Sadly, eventually they broke up, & these old friends became enemies later in life. But in this photo, these two pals were my world back then. Little kid me was always the indiscriminate fly on the wall of their kooky friendship & fun, dysfunctional, love/hate bro-mance. They were in the carpet business together, like partners, for all intents & purposes. I was the sole casualty of my parents split at the time, & so, Uncle Gary was the guy who distracted me from the friction of the family feud for a spell.

One of the summers to follow… was “Live Aid…” July circa 1985. Not only was it to be the largest concert ever held in history, but it was being held right in my back yard! Uncle Gary VHS’ed the whole 3 day event front & center at Mom-Mom’s house on the pea green old itchy chair still half covered in plastic. He wore pulled up basketball socks with the red ring stripe & a pair of white converse, & I was wearin’ jelly’s, & spotted with red Ringpop goo. I mighta been a kid, but I knew exactly the moment Queen flew on that stage, Phil Collins flew back & forth from London on the Red Eye in an hour flat & when young mullet-fied revolutionary Bono rose to the occasion with freedom bells on, introduced by none other than Mister Jack Nicholson. I mighta had a bad case of poison ivy, but I was squatted right on that floor, calamine lotioned up & glued from end to end. What an amazing monumental pop culture event it was… every single second, biting at the bit for the next act, not to mention: EVERYONE was there. It was superstar heaven, literally, every Rock & Roll Great was in attendance.

{Fun Fact: 150 million pounds: The amount that Live Aid raised for famine relief in Ethiopia. It works out to some $245 million U.S. 162,000: The number of people who attended the two main Live Aid concerts — 72,000 in London’s Wembley Stadium and 90,000 in Philadelphia’s JFK Stadium.}

Loved that worn gruffy spot in that old brown rug at my mom-mom’s house on Lakevue Drive, In Willow Grove Pennsylvania. Right in front of the floor model tube, X marked the spot for the kid butt to be planted. Freeze pops, pudding pops, or a big fat trough of vitamin D milk saturated sugary cereal was the eighties kid’s finest indulgence. Yep, I was raised on high fructose corn syrup with the best of them. Musta drank a million gallons of milk too, unfortunately. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. It went with the territory back then, I guess. Bless our little cute Stone-age hearts…

Despite our less evolved nature, the eighties was a revolutionary decade, to say the least. The dawn of talk shows was the original Reality Television. Oprah, Phil Donahue, Morton Downy Jr., Geraldo Rivera, Sally Jesse, started significant taboo conversations about controversial topics. The buzzing of current hot button issues thus created a very poignant proactive platform. The general public could now openly share their stories, relate, connect & heal. People had a stage to hash things out, argue, vent & clash all kinds of personalities & viewpoints. Skeletons were flying out of closets by the dozens. Tempers were flaring so irreverently, & it all was so deliciously damn necessary… lol. I remember specifically being in 6th grade & running home from the bus to catch Oprah at 4pm. Her show riveted that little 11 year old. If I recall correctly, that is when I began to put everything into perspective & could really counsel my Dad through his shit. Lol. That’s funny. Thanks, Big “O!”

The Eighties was the home of “the one hit wonders” that we all made up dances to. Classic legendary sitcoms coveted our after dinner time slots. Like, if it’s odd & obscure, or had some kind of parable behind it with a feel good lesson in the end, or weird-ball scatterbrain characters enmeshed in slapstick comedy… it came from the eighties, no doubt.

Infomercials, “The Headbangers Ball,” & David Letterman gave us late night wings, reruns of the Brady bunch & Happy Days made us feel safe, & lunchtime reruns of The Munsters, Adams Family, & Bewitched made us feel like it’s okay to be different, lol. The Love Boat & Fantasy Island put a little Pina Colada magic in the air, Dallas & Dynasty, made us feel seductive & fancy, while Entertainment Tonight & Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous put a little diamond twinkle in our eyes. Saturday Night Live was exactly that: LIVE. It was spontaneous, edgy, silly, sardonic, politically charged, wildly funny & trendsetting at its finest. In the 80s, SNL was in its prime & chock full of the budding talent of all the famous celebrity comics we have today.

So many other classic TV shows & movies were born & raised in the decade of iconic pop culture. The A-Team, Dukes of Hazard, Knight Rider, Chips, Miami Vice… I mean… we make movies out of these gems today. And, Hollywood sure had its hands full… Sixteen Candles, Ferris Beullers Day Off, Say It Again (boombox, “In your eyes…”), The Goonies, Poltergeist, Spaceballs, Moonstruck, Stand by me, The Terminator, Back to the Future, Ghostbusters, The Breakfast Club, Top Gun, Aliens, Die hard, Star wars, Trading Places, The Gremlins, E.T., Karate Kid, The Lost Boys, Dirty dancing, Beverly Hills Cop, Scarface, Risky Business, National Lampoon’s Vacation, Cocoon, the Rocky sequels, Nightmare on Elmstreet, all the Halloween sequels, Friday the 13th, Full Metal Jacket, Big, Weekend at Bernie’s… blockbuster memorable hits. The eighties was a whirlpool of strong IDEAS. The imagination was running wild. Inventions & original ideas were overwhelmingly abundant & so apparent, as art imitated life. So many household names we have today were founded in the 1980s.

We had the HOTTEST Hair Bands… come on! Ladies?! Van Halen, Bon Jovi, White Snake, Poison, Def Leopard, Motley Crue, Warrant, Cinderella, White Snake, Skid Row, Ratt>>> DEFINED Glam Rock. They were the O.G.’s of boy bands, if ya ask me… the original… slutty version. They were the sexiest & prettiest boys to ever slide across a stage in skin tight jeans, leather pants & snake tattoos. They coined the rocker howl & made panting in a song or crawling toward a camera, not creepy. This was the birthplace of bad ass ballads with dramatic synthesizer story lines. They would choreograph their rugged high voices & share a sweaty communal microphone singing into a video camera while rippin’ some killer panty-dropper guitar solos. Lol! This is the stuff, “Guitar Hero” was made of. This is the stuff the Jersey Shore was made of & make-out sessions in the back seat of muscle cars were sound tracked to. The Eighties were so like, totally gnarly, bra…

Video killed the radio star. Ya think? Prince was the king of innovative punk funk, MJ, a straight pop phenomenon, Madonna, a women’s lib movement all by herself. The Police, The Cure, Metallica, U2, big time musical genius was woven into the fabric of our culture then. Hip Hop gave a voice to the streets, gave the mess a message, leading to “Rap for a reason” Mind Revolution music & eventually political Gangster Rap.

Did someone say “Silicon Valley?” Technology in every form… erupted, the video revolution jumped off, the arcade was born, home movies, home video game consoles, cassette tapes, cordless phones, answering machines, “call waiting,” 1-900-milliondollar-a-minute-dirty-talk hotlines, & typewriters turned into computer key boards with monitors & memory. The world’s first commercial handheld cell phone became available to the public in March 1984. And, need I say… “WalkMan??” A game-changer for all… Geez, I could go on & on. Hope ya had fun!

The Eighties… I love that I lived it.

*DEDICATED TO: Mister STEVE WEST

(Love ya, kid!)

“Does anyone have a time machine handy?’

#PacmanFever

#MallRat

#ProudEightiesKid

To be continued…

Um, HELLLLLOOO!??? TAP FOLLOW!!! (damn it!)

…And BUY THE BOOK!!

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Namaste ❤

Who She is.

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About the Author

My name is Jenay (JZapp), I was born in the hurricane season circa 1974, which makes perfect sense, because I certainly do like ta shake shit up. I am a writer. I write & write & write, that’s what I do. I came out of the womb with a fat lip from fighting off the earthlings tryin’ to pull me out onto this godforsaken land. No doubt I was snapping gum (if a toothless baby could snap gum), sporting a green sun visor, brandishing a pen & white legal pad, making lists & taking notes. It was September 18th, which was the five year anniversary of the death of Jimi Hendrix, bell-bottoms were en vogue, Eric Clapton’s cover of “I Shot the Sheriff” just hit the Billboard top 100, & it was fondly the era of the sexual revolution, better known as “Free Love.”

I knew how to write before I could talk or walk if that makes any sense. If writing was a faucet of running gold…. I would be the Queen of England, Egypt, and 12 other great empires. I would live in a golden castle with a golden cat & eat golden cucumbers. Diamond chips would be shooting out of my fingertips. Writing is what I do best. It’s how I live. It’s what I know. It’s timeless. It’s healing. It’s cathartic. It releases unwanted emotions. It exonerates. It liberates. It validates. It vindicates. It provides resolutions, answers, clues, closure, knowledge, information, wisdom, comic relief & enlightenment. I NOW HAVE THREE published books available on Amazon.com.

I am most definitely a wordsmith. Frankly, I have way too much fun with words, I can’t resist. I have some serious spunk & there’s no denyin’ my audacious attitude. I am my own brand of freelance writer & reporter of current, relevant, buzzworthy topics. I write colorful articles, create moods, stir things up, am brutally honest & have no apologies, & if ya don’t like me, oh well.

I’d like to think that my writing style is a blended firestorm of bursting color, & a healthy trail mix of Saturday Night Live, Sarah Silverman, Marisa Peer, Esther Hicks, Bob Marley, Bono, Kathy Lee & Hoda, Jimmy Fallon & a tiny sweet little dash of the Royal Renegade of radio… Dr. Michael Savage. I am a melting pot of many influential people. You don’t have to agree with me. I don’t have to always be right. I will say it how I see it, anyway.
I am a poet. I claim poetic license to the max, in or out of rhyme. I am an Artist of Word Art. What I write is deliberate. The English language is a “living” language that is still evolving. It’s not Latin. “Proper” grammar or sentence structure, etcetera, etcetera… may or may not apply here, thereof. So those of you who either may be nitpickers or English majors, put on some sunglasses, put your feet up, & flip on some tunes, cause nobody’s countin’ commas at this party.

If you read through my blog (Tap FOLLOW!)… you will find that I am a bit of a diplomat, pleasantly patriotic and am quite an ambassador for female empowerment and principles. I’m also a tried & true Culinary Grad, a foodie for sure, & recently embarked upon a Vegan lifestyle, so I feature plenty of nutrient-rich intel. As a “recovered addict,” reformed Catholic, abuse & rape survivor, I am a significant advocate for addicts, those in recovery, victims of abuse, animal rights, anyone ready to embrace their power & improve the quality of their life. I wear a hero helmet most days that reads: “power to the people” on the front, and “justice” on the back. I believe in equality, respect, unity, peace, & the eternal Divine force of Universal Law.

Furthermore, I am an Empath. This means I have the gift of clairsentience which loosely translated, means: “clear sensing.” And thus, I have a supersonic capacity to feel, sense energy & experience everything in detailed technicolor. Empathic souls absorb more than non-empathic people. We typically have a deeper understanding of life… & not by choice. We are born sensitives. I literally feel the pain of a wine-soaked drowning fruit fly. It gets even more amplified when I’m high… lol. Look out! She’s a philosopher!

This hyper-developed sensory perception has given me the ability to channel intel from higher dimensions, & over years of continued contact, I have become fluent in these transmissions via writing. In addition, empaths are the arch nemesis of narcissists… which is probably why I tend to have a bone to pick (more like 5 or 10) with any kind of controlling, egocentric, self- serving, dictatorial non-diplomacy.

What I stand for is non-denominational, non-affiliated, nonpartisan & all-inclusive. I am an amplifier of goodness & Light. It could be said that I am a proactive agent for the greater good. I espouse positive thinking. I consider myself a leader in the Conscious Revolution, a Light Guide/Life Coach/Spiritual advisor all rolled into the cool girl next door. Thanx for reading!
Namaste🙏

#JoinTheConsciousRevolution

Contact her:
jayzjay@hotmail.com

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