Who She Is: a little background

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

Badass books 4 sale HERE: https://www.amazon.com/author/zapp

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A Story About Jack: ode to no strings

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I had a friend once, he lived in a beautiful loft-like high-rise condo up 15 stories or so… right smack front & center of the beach. Beachfront as they say. Myrtle Beach to be exact. “Dirty Myrtle” as they call it. The gritty Southern twang version of a “what stays in Vegas” underbelly. Myrtle Beach: the Jersey Shore of the South… lol.

3 whole Bike Weeks, an Inlet Coast that stays speckled with local live music venues & Sunday Funday is always spilling well over into the weekdays. Jet skis & jello shots, party boats & casino floats, clambakes & bonfires, DJ’s & dancefloors, fireworks & hot tubs, water slides & wet tee shirt contests… light that underbelly right up in flames. Not to mention the neon girls wearing thong bikini’s strollin’ the strip, flyin’ by on skateboards jiggle jagglin’ what the good Lord gave ’em. It all makes for some saucy people watching. Yessiree-bob…

Anyway, back to my friend’s beachfront condo… the heavy sliding glass hurricane-proof doors opened out to a balcony overlooking the sea…

The ocean waves crashed practically right down below us, depending on the swell. At night the moonlight was strewn across the ocean waves like a sea of sparkles right in clear view from the kitchen bar stools. He had wicker everywhere, only Pepsi, beer, butter & eggs in his fridge, Stoli Vanilla in the freezer next to sum frozen hot dogs & a cabinet full of Ramen noodles n dog food. He had all kinds of signs hung about, like “kiss me I’m Irish” & “Life is better at the beach”  & also probably upwards of 12 or 20 others, it was quite the collection.

He had a big ole white shag soft & fluffy throw rug by the sliding glass door that one could easily find very inviting. Then for the stoners & stragglers, there was the super comfy crash couch across from the vintage wooden cabinet jukebox that played retro fuzzy recordings of Bob Seger & Foreigner tunes.

I can still hear the waves crashing. It was the background music to life there. All day every day, you had a front row seat to Mother Nature’s bountiful display of Ohm ness… wasn’t I a lucky girl!

We lived together for a brief window of time. He was a good friend. One could say, I crashed at the crib for a bit, when I needed repose. He was my Angel then.

I stayed in the back room with the bunk beds, cause the master had the master. We were buds. And, I was blessed more than ever indeed, to be waking up every morning, to the cool breeze of the blue beach & the shiny sunshine bouncing off waves. Free of charge I might add, with my own key chain & only two daily chores: 1.) walk Rocky the dog. 2.) honor the OCD… lol.

Every morning I would skip down to the breakfast cafe, hop on deck with beachfront benches for some eggs & OJ, the sunrise & slow-motion Reggae. The scent of hot fresh coffee tangled so perfectly with the cool morning salt breeze, it was the sweetest nectar. After only just a few moments of staring out into the deep blue distance, I’d get the Pool-Jones. I would then pounce from the palm tree lined oasis to the pool patio where the 8 foot deep dive down into the gorgeous salt water pool was salacious. Such a sexy sidekick to the sandy dunes it sat right within.

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Yep, that’s right… the condo stood 15 stories up into the sky blue. 15 feet out was the ocean blue. Then 15 stories down was the saltwater pool blue. The perfect place to live. The seagulls were happy. So was I.

I stayed in bikini bottoms. Underwear wasn’t even in my vocab that summer. Tan lines shmanlines... topless it was, if I could help it! I was water-ready at all times & aqua bound most days & most nites even. It was great. Night swimming. Day swimming. Nite drinkin’. Day drinkin’. On a boat. In a pool. At a tiki bar. At the beach. On a balcony, deck or pier, on a towel or a dance floor. In the backseat of a car… oops, did I say that? Definitely, cruisin’ droptop style. And there sure ain’t nothin’ a little healthy Harley ride can’t fix. I hung out. Tough. It was fun. Fun in the sun!

So yea, let me tell ya the real reason I mentioned this cool venture I was blessed to partake of. It wasn’t to brag… lol. Well, maybe a little 🙂

The man I stayed with, we will call him Jack. Jack was a handsome man with a long dirty blonde ponytail, a quik wit & a dry sense of humor who wore surf tea shirts. He was smart, a business owner & kinda jaded by betrayals throughout his life. But he seemed content enough. Livin’ the dream, as they say.

Jack always told me that he didn’t want a girlfriend. He was married once & she took him for a ride, & now that he is older with a thriving little gig, Rocky the grey-bearded royal dog mut & the hottest crib ever (if ya ask me)…. who needs the stress or complication of a relationship? He would smirk & giggle.

“I do what I want, when I want, how I want, with whomever I want, & I don’t owe anyone anything other than a good time on occasion when duty calls… lol.”

“It works for me.” He used to say. “I have friends when I need em, I have the boys to help me run my business, I have a smart & beautiful daughter who is the apple of my eye…& most of all I have my best friend: Rocky the dog… a rescue &  love story like no other. Who needs a wife?”

Check it! The real ROCKY>>>

He’d say…”Companionship is great n all. Good sex is even better. Affection & tenderness is a nice treat once in a while. But this is the way I see it… remember what Charlie Sheen said?”

And I would say… “What’s that Jack?”

And he said: “Well the courts were sentencing Sheen for using a prostitute & the judge asked him why a man like him would have to pay for sex. So Sheen reportedly replied: ‘I don’t pay them for sex. I pay them to leave!‘ Brilliant, I thought. I’ll– take– that!”

Jack said, “When I wake up in the morning & she is still there… I swat down the stack on the dresser & say: thanks, hon, bye bye now!”

I personally am not a real fan of Charlie Sheen. He’s definitely not your typical role model type. I giggled, but felt offended the first time I heard Jack say that. But, then… all of a sudden, boom! It all became clear. Even sexual deviants have wisdom on occasion, I guess.

So here is what dawned on me…

Let’s revisit the subject of “Prostitution.” I would like to redefine it.

There is a brand of dudes out & about in society, that due to damage, circumstance, profession, preference, age, maturity level, or just sheer independence or choice… that prefer to not have to be engaged or interested or at least, be obligated to be engaged or interested. They might fancy a lady but do not want the bells & whistles. Thee…” wham bam thank you, ma’am, keepin it simple plain Jane Jackson for a nite will suit me just fine“… guy. Yea, that guy

When the few hours are up & the rendezvous subsides, the out of service sign flips on. Jack says: “The action of payment is essentially just like Sheen said… a payment for leaving. The boundaries of a paid timeslot allow both parties to frolic about, be themselves & not have to be concerned with catering to the other outside of it. No expectations exist other than the payment & pleasure. It removes any & all stress, tension, attachment, or tangly emotional ties from the equation.

So…what does “paid to leave” mean actually? The female is getting paid, to essentially keep her feelings at bay. Makes sense, doesn’t it? Since woman are the softer brand of human… it is important for us to know if we do indeed have to practice self-discipline in an area that has always been challenging for us. Getting “paid to leave” gives us that clarity. It makes it perfectly clear that there will be: no strings; no expectations; no emotional ties; no lingering feelings, friendships, or familiarity. It is payment for a fantasy fulfilled without further depth.

68d26d5583d32650705ada54736250c2It is a Rent-a-Lover for a day, hour, or evening & then “clock out, baby, when the gig expires”…with no questions, no lip, no back talk.  No resistance. No drama. No adversity. No disagreement. No opposition. No explanations. No guilt. No apologies. No misunderstandings. No guessing games. We have sealed the deal, & now I am paying you… TO LEAVE. And… that very payment makes it much easier for us to put the kybosh on the crackin’ of the feelings vault, for sure.

It might seem callous or abrasive, but really it’s just rather blunt, is all. It cuts out the coy, beat around the bush demeanor & lays it all right out on the table to be signed by both parties. It’s a contract. It’s a deal. It’s an agreement. It’s fair.  It’s honest, upfront & transparent. It actually makes perfect sense for both sides.

If you are a woman & you can handle the detachment within this kind of sexual connection with a man, then go for it. You may just as well be in a similar position as said gentlemen & would just as well prefer to be “paid to leave.” It is a business agreement that can indeed suit both parties equally if both candidates are on the same page with equal intentions. Furthermore, treating each other with a mutual respect goes without saying.

Neither might have time for a relationship or what not. A woman’s worth is not devalued by the act of payment. the service rendered is actually not the sex, it is the casual non-commitment that goes with it. I can see how honorable it is in a way, that a man feels like it’s only right to compensate a lady for her time & attention if he wants no further commitment past that. He is just being fair, in my book…& honest & behaving accordingly. Props, there Jack… props!

Whereas the one nite stand guy that she met at the bar the other nite who calls her only for booty calls once a week n doesn’t even buy miss thang a candybar… is totally out of line & not acknowledging a woman’s true worth at all. If you pay us to keep it simple, we will. If you do not pay us to keep it simple, we might then end up feeling used, or mistreated if you do not engage, connect or show interest in furthering the relationship. That will create unnecessary static,  conflict & all kinds of issues that can indeed be avoided. if you prefer to have FWB relations only, then compensate accordingly. FWB might not cost you a commitment but it will cost you a fee. Just sayin’…

As long as everybody sticks to the game plan, no one gets hurt. Kinda like a bank robbery. lol. Catching feelings is a no-no in the case of FWB, & should be avoided at all costs, for then the game changes significantly & unless both people start to fall in love mutually, the contract becomes null & void, due to an accidental breach. Otherwise, if they both wanna move it to the next level… FWP (friends with potential) is the next natural move.

The minute the fee is lifted, is the moment two people have decided to go from FWB to FWP. (Friends with benefits to friends with potential) Which can happen.

We are all adults here.

Ladies… some advice: If you are into the NSA (no strings attached) & FWB Sugar Baby lifestyle, it’s all good. But my advice to you, is to find a man you like. Period. Anything less, will leave you feeling subpar. Don’t ever settle.

Gentlemen… If you are going to play with a girls heart… get out of the game.

You have two choices: A.) Be an eligible bachelor who is willing to be engaged & interested with an open heart… or B.) unleash the credit cards & remain anonymously the “Sugar Daddy.” Whatever you do…do not misrepresent yourself, please.

When you approach a hot dog stand… you don’t just stand there looking stupid & expect the food truck guy to guess what you want on your dog. You tell him.

So yea… don’t expect us to guess either. Women deserve to know your intentions. We deserve to know your level of commitment. FWB or FWP. You are either available or not. Indecision is slow poison. Hidden agendas are plain unfair. And, nobody deserves to be taunted with mixed signals. Period.

Jack would say… “watch out kid, for those landmines of red flags!” He often said that I needed to go to “Red Flag School” to learn to spot them better… lol! He said he had the skill to spot red flag city from a mile away. He was a good dude, a great advice giver, & ya know, for such a detached man, he had a very warm heart. I kinda miss that guy…

Let’s mull over some definitions, shall we?

FWB> Not emotionally available

FWP> Open Heart

FWB> Expects nothing other than that each will honor the mutually beneficial agreement with respect & honesty.

FWP> Means there are two open hearts laid out on a table & to go forth & tread lightly, is an understatement. Humans are sensitive creatures & emotions don’t discriminate. Catching feelings is always a delicate subject for a woman or a man.

With that said, it’s only fair gentlemen, to be honest & upfront to any woman crossing your pleasure path. Dig?

Must I repeat that? Cause it’s very simple. It is either black or it’s white in this case. Greyscale leaves too much static & fuzz on the screen of the imagination & leads to wasted time & heartache.

So… state your case. Behave accordingly. We are not a revolving door you can keep walking through over & over again. We are your walkway to satisfaction, freedom & fun, if you know how to communicate like a grown man.

Who likes to watch a black & white Tv with crummy reception? I myself prefer an HD flatscreen. So can you do a lady the service… of wheelin’ in the flatscreen por favor…? It’s a no-brainer really. See for yourself>>

You either take me out & show me a good time, pay my way, my bills, or drop a stack of Bens in my purse pocket…many-100-bills-bundle_77cd5d9b9ae7847a

OR> you choose to meet me halfway with availability, openness, care, consideration, interest, engagement, intimacy & true friendship… & your wallet too, I might add, for all the fun adventures we will end up having together…stock-vector-valentine-s-day-two-people-in-love-holding-hands-cartoon-children-s-drawing-style-series-see-more-68546989

You choose. I will respond.

But DO NOT. I repeat, do not… let us just guess which car you are driving. It’s annoying.

Round of applause for Jack & Charlie. Thanks for the insightfulness.

And thank you… J.L.C.— for being on the fence. It inspired this article.  🙂 (Don’t blush… it’s all good, honey)

#WordtatheWise #HonestCommunication

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#JZapp

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Hey! Where ya goin’ with my bikini top??!! lol

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