Rube Called Quest--

Today it is raining. It is also the first day of Fall. Wait is it? Yes, I think it is. It is a day for tea drinking, dyeing my hair too dark and sitting and writing with my cat by my side. A day like this never gets old for me, no matter how many times we hear, "Oh I just love a rainy day, with a good book--yada yada"--but alas, this old line is true.
Now since you last heard my wailing cry about life---things have perked up a bit. Well, as much as life can in a world that is slowly dying. (Just kidding, that last line was for all you cynics out there)

However, I had spoken of my parents possibly going down the road to homelessness. They did not end up dancing to the tune of a Dicken's tale. They were able to stay in their home. The home that was once my home. I only hope things stay well for the degenerates, I mean, loving old pair and that I do not receive a call of crisis in another 4-6 months. This also means my precious dogs are not homeless and get to stay with the old bags, I mean parents. Since I usually worry more for the well being of animals, this part gave me an ulcer more than the thought of my once vibrant hippie parents on line at a shelter waiting for split pea.

I, myself am now residing in Staten Island. Which, well, I wouldn't exactly call it an island. It's not that cool, but I guess it is one of the boroughs and indeed it is not going anywhere. Funny, how life goes and the path it take you on. I had always vowed that out of all the boroughs, I would never live in Staten Island--even more then the Boogie Down Bronx. (By the way the Bronx is up, so I don't get it) Anyway, I'm in Staten Island. It's like a cross between a nice small town and crack alley. Everyone on the bus is toothless and muttering to themselves. No--it has beautiful homes. (That was for all you uppity Staten Islanders out there)

So, since my parents basically came in my home, caused chaos and financial hardship, I had to get out. Which is really for the best. I mean, it had been my home, but they were never going to be able to afford to move again and I didn't want to live like Charlie and the Chocolate factory forever. My Father, in his underwear like Grandpa Joe, burning hot dogs in the middle of the night, cigarette dangling in mouth, dancing with the dogs. "Don't worry Jenny, I'll pay the rent"----

So, even though I love my whack job parents, I have--as they say, felt a lot less stress. I now go to the occasional yoga class, get inspirational talks from loved ones and put a little money away. Staten Island is a temporary stay until I can check myself into a clinic. No really, hopefully find myself a nice little apt. Either with some old eccentric, or perhaps with my boyfriend. Or join a monastery, one where you can still smoke. Getting a little too old to hop around, but that white picket fence may just not be in the cards for me. I barely even say the word boyfriend anyway. I say asshole. No, but really I'm too afraid to change my relationship status on Facebook to "In a Relationship" in fear my boyfriend might find that too stifling. So, may have to paint that picket fence a shade of grey. Can't we all just buy an ice cream cones and skip down the street holding hands. A simpler life, without a status update. Perhaps just something real. I mean, really. I'm basically 41.

So, there is my update. For those who know me, they may, say, "Ahh, that sounds good." For those who don't, they may say, "What the hell is this old bag going on about?" Either way, go fuck yourself. No----enjoy your Fall. I'll warn you now, Hurricane Irene put a damper on things and there will be a shortage of pumpkins. Do your best. Slip into Uggs, drink a Chai, love your loved ones and cozy up with your animals. And do what you are supposed to do.

oh, and take Probiotics.

Love,

Jenny

Last thing--I hate my hair.

Down and out but trying-

100 degrees. Consumed with nausea and worry. I wonder if my life is as bad off as this sullen Dunkin Donuts worker I see before me, scarfing a patriotic cruller. I need to put stuff in storage tomorrow and I can't pack because my power went out. Even my pets have sweat on their brows. How did I get here? Financial crisis and parents that may be soon homeless- yet again. Poor planning. Bad luck. Sickness. Just life. Listening to the calming and supportive words of others. Feeling safe for a second- then a sudden panic sets in and I feel like a poor rotting old woman praying for a rainbow that may never show it's face between the clouds. Laughing one moment. Hysteria the next. At least I'm not blind. I really feel that is the only thing that could make this daunting situation worse. I just wanna kick back with a lemonade- even a limeade- let my barefeet run free through grass while maybe some singer songwriter like Ray Lamontagne sings somewhere close by and a fuckin' seagull swoops down and tells me yes- it is going to be alright.

Life change is good. Scary but a must. Hoping with tragedy the humor comes a rollin' in real soon. I will look forward not back (although I am nostalgic as a vulture looking for death).


Love to all that care.

A world of things to discuss---

But all I can think of is I hate this layout. However, I am not a web designer, nor do I care to be-so for now, I will stick with this nauseating peach and bird motif. And I don't want to hear a word about it. I have enough troubles in my life at the present time, so don't hassle me about layouts.

The picture above is my dog Fozzy. I have another dog, Sammy. I may post her picture at a later time. I love these fucking animals. I never thought I would be in a crisis so big, that I would have to consider giving them, away. I always thought "those" people who gave up their animals were irresponsible and heartless. But now I see these things do happen. And yes, they can happen to you.

My life is at a crossroads. It is very stressful and I have decided to begin to break free and try to lessen this stress. Although, part of me has no energy and would prefer to lay down in the gutter and have wild horses trample me. But another time for that.

As for now--I must leave my home of five years. This home began with a husband and many pets--and ended with sick elderly parents headed toward eviction. I have had ups and downs--mostly downs, but have never given up hope, stopped working and most importantly I have kept my sense of humor. I mean, I still want to run into a bus and sleep for a year, but I manage. Life is handing me plates of shit over easy and I am trying to eat it all and still save room for dessert.

I love my animals. I love animals in general. They make me cry, even when there is nothing to cry about. I will save my cats--even if they have to sit in my stupid Forever 21 purse for the next 18 years-----My dogs-- I will learn to forgive myself--or not. But I pray that I can find them a home in the country. A better home---than even I can offer. (Tears dripping down my leg)

I wanted to begin writing again--I want a trip to Tuscany too, but I will stick to the writing for now. I am starting this blog--driblets of feelings and stories,a little at a time in hopes of eventually writing a novel. Stuffing the fear that my story doesn't count down the toilet.

At this point-I want to title my book--"Look, I grew up in New York, I'm Forty---what the fuck?"

Until next time-----although I may be slightly busy packing my incense and candles, waiting for my Father's latest Cancer results and buying another cute $20 dress---I must look decent during a crisis at least.


xo

**I also want to acknowledge and thank a very special person who is helping me during this time, offering me a place to stay and letting me cry about 2,486 times a day. (Thank you BW~)