(Writer's Block)^3

There has been so much on my mind lately.  So much that it's difficult to put into words.  So much that it's difficult to find the time.  So much that I think about sitting down and working through it all but end up throwing back a Stella instead.  Because, boys and girls, crippling alcoholism is easier than blogging.

But, I'm not unhappy.  Not in the least.  And for some reason that sounds sarcastic, but it's really really not.  Get me? ...Nah, I guess I don't either.

Self-induced heartbreak is the worst pain imaginable. Until you realize that the damage extends, beyond yourself, out to the heart you had always wanted to keep whole. And that hurts more than anything you've ever felt. You hope and you pray and hope and pray. And you don't breathe. 

Insecurity is totally NOT hot.....

So, we're going to play a little game...It's called what would sexy, smart, self-confident Kennedy Kent do?

Apparently I tend to get a little inside my head, and then generally fucker up anything and anyone around me with tireless worries about whether I said the right thing about political unrest in Bosnia at dinner, or maybe I should've kept that vomit story to myself, or whether it seemed like I had skipped a couple therapy seshes when I outlined the very fine line between "bat shit crazy" and "whimsical".  

I've gotta stop worrying about all that shit, right? No productive, normal, contributing member of society is so caught up with everyone else's perception of her.  A functioning adult is a confident decision-maker, unwary of judgment or casted stones.  Do I want to be a normal member of society?  No....not exactly.  Who wants to be just one of the crowd? But there has to be a way to be me, and not be concurrently crippled by my own inability to accept my own points of sheer awesomeness.    

Well, one thing about this blog is that I can use it to develop my alter ego.  And maybe one day, one sweet day, Kennedy Kent will become me and I will become her and we will be one [I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together (that's deep, yo)] 

And then I'll be Kennedy Kent/Me......the girl who's seen it all, unafraid of backlash or consequence, lives without regret or worry.  She knows not of anxiety or frayed nerves.  She's cooler than a cucumber disguised as Samuel L. Jackson.  She's hotter than the Arizona pavement in the middle of August.  She captivates and enthralls.  She's the motherfucking shit.  And she's on her way to anything and everything she ever wanted.    

Key(board) to my heart.....

This is not a worthwhile post.  It is basically just to test out my new bluetooth keyboard and see if it pairs properly with my iPad.  It does.  And that means smoother blogging.  ..........Oh, man....you're going to get so sick of me.  

I attached a picture of it.  1, because I like to show off purchases because it makes me feel like I'm better than you when I show you all my stuffs. And 2, to complain about the spacing between the letters on this motherfucker.  Why are they spread out like that?  Why not just make the letters bigger and adjacent?  The spacing is throwing me off.  

I used to play that typing game in grade school like my life depended on it. What the hell was it called?  Typing....jarvis....?  Jeevus?  Jeebus?  Does anyone know what I'm talking about? Typing Beavis?  I don't know, but it was the funnest thing to do during computer class.  At least I thought so.  We'd do these typing drills where we'd have to type these random phrases as fast as we could and then the program would time us and you'd try to beat everyone else in the class 'cause yeah, you didn't have fashion sense or boobs, but you could type faster than any one in the universe.  And that made you cool.....

But the phrases would be completely ridiculous and nonsensical.  Like, 

"THE    COW    CAN'T     CROUCH    ANY    FURTHER    DOWN    IN       THE     TROUGH.

 HOW,   THEN,   CAN    THE    COW     CROWD     THE     CROW    FOR     FOUR    HOURS?"

And I would think, "What the hell is the cow doing in the trough in the first place?  That's not where you hang out, Cow.  You chill in the barn with the neighbor's dog.  And, Cow, why are you crouching?  Are you hiding something?  Something in the trough?  And THEN you go off and crowd the crow for FOUR hours???  You're an asshole, Cow."

And then computer class would be over.  And I would have the best WPM in my grade.  And I was the most popular girl in school.  

Ode to my Urinary Tract: A Theme for Haikus......

1-

Desp'rate for relief

I chug antibiotics.

It hurts when I pee. 

2-

Burning, frequency

The pressure on my bladder

Symptoms that spell 'BAD'.

3-

Cotton underwear

and cranberry juice all day,

Why do you fail me?

4-

Oh, ciproflaxin

You are my knight in shining

Enteric coating. 

5-

Thank you, AZO

for messing with my ketones,

But now I can pee.

6-

Taking for granted

The simple inclination

For urination. 

I weep for my unborn hypothetical children...

The setting: A quiet, not-that-busy local Jiffy Lube. Studio 11 news is playing at a low volume on a small flat screen TV on the wall. 

The characters: inexplicably, the waiting area is filled with children, or whatever teenagers, as this is apparently the new, cool place to hang out with your homies.......???? And me. Facebooking on my phone. Trying not to dive for the Ativan in my car. (Ativan is a psychotropic medication generally used to manage psychotic, aggressive or agitated behavior)

The Scene:

Teenage girl (to her boyfriend, nodding towards the TV): Who died??

Teenage boy: Wha?

Teenage girl: Someone died! On the fucking television. Who died?? 

Newscaster on the TV: Though it seems apparent that Paris Jackson was attempting suicide, evidenced by a note left at the scene, the authorities refuse to make an official statement at this time. She remains in critical condition. 

Teenage Boy: Michael Jackson. 

Teenage Girl: Ferreals? Fuuuuuuuuuck..... (Into the phone) oh shit girl, Michael Jackson died. I know that shit's SO sad. Demetri!!!

Demetri, apparently: WHA, BITCH?

Teenage Girl: isn't that shit sad?? 

Demetri: Way sad. 

END SCENE

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's blatant, epic fail...

It takes me a really long time to make decisions.  No....longer.  Longer than that, even.  Whilst designing this new blog, for example, it took me about 20 minutes to pick out a font.  And you know what? I still don't like it, and I think I will change it the minute I post this very first, non-assuming, not-well-planned-out-post.  It took me another 15 minutes to decide just how wide to make the blog box in ratio to the "About Me" box, which I wanted to take out all together as it's just a blank "About Me" box and since an "About Me" box is just an abridged version of what's in this blog, it was redundant and unnecessary and therefore symbolically smaller than the blog box.  What the hell does anyone need an "About Me" box for anyway?? Want to know about me? Read the blog ever-so-slightly-and-deliberately to the right of that box and find out stuff.....about me!  And in case you were wondering, the "About Me" box is blank because life is hard and I'm not about to give any of you an easy way out because that's just poor training.  I'm all about government hand-outs (or free money as long as it's my free money) but this particular blog is not that kind of subsidized.

So, about me......Well..... I like....candy? And....sea otters?  See, we're getting to know each other so well, already.  Eff you, "About Me" box. Go to your lonely place on the left side of the screen.  

Anyway, this may or may not be my 8th first blog post ever.  However long it takes me to make a decision about a blog, multiply that by zero, and that's historically how much additional time I've spent on past blogs.  I'm taking a new approach this time: Don't hide the crazy AND (dun dun DUNNNNN) get a secret identity.... Now! Cue the ooh's and ahh's!  (What? No! Not the groans! Damn it, I have really got to get my sound effects dude under control.  What in the world do I pay you for, Shane?? ....Hm?  This is a written blog?  Readers won't even hear the sound effects??? Son of a bitch.....)

No, Kennedy is not my real name.  Not even close.  And Tender, Loving Carelessness is not somehow an acronym for the street I live on or my favorite ice cream shop.  This pseudo-original pseudonym allows me freedom I've never had in a blog before.  The anonymity sets me apart to tell it all and hold nothing back and just be seriously fucking awesome.

That being said, it's likely I will send this around my inner circle of friends, so that they will become the Dick Graysons to my Bruce Wayne, the Chloe Sullivans to my Clark Kent, the Alfreds to my Bruce Way--shit, I did that one already.  They'll be privy to my deep, dark secrets and they'll know all my smoldering hopes and desires. They'll know the truth about everything.  And chances are, they'll get really, really pissed because I'll write about all the silly shit they say and do to me and they'll be all like, "What the fuck, 'Kennedy', I totally said that to you in confidence" and "Seriously?? I showed you that thing on my back NOT so you could take a picture of it and post it on your blog, 'Kennedy'".

So I guess I'll apologize now for irking you later, and beg for your forgiveness in advance.  But, really, I'm not sorry because you'll be featured on my blog, and you'll be famous beyond your wildest dreams.

In closing, I'm not sure if I'll actually keep up with my yet again newly started blog.  This may be the very first and last time you ever hear from me.  I hope that's not the case.  I hope I come back tomorrow with the same unbridled enthusiasm and scrutiny I had for the blog box ratio fiasco.  But if the past dictates the future...well, then, it was nice typing at you.  Although....I was recently reminded by a particular someone that insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.  Well, ladies and gents, here's the biggest "About Me" you'll get from me today:  Turns out, I'm kind of big on the whole insanity thang.

So, until next time!   Nope, no.  That's a horrible sign-off.  Stay classy, San Diego!  That sounds copyrighted. Be your loveliest self until your loveliest isn't good enough!  Oh, holy crap, I'm terrible at this.

Ok....................Um......................................................G'bye.
(Cue the outro music!  What?! Oh, damn it all!)


[PS--The inspiration for this blog is the incomparable and hysterical Jenny Lawson.  Drop everything and read everything she has written ever.  And listen to her audiobook while you're at it 'cause it's the motherfuckin' shit, yo.  www.TheBloggess.com  and Let's Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir) You. Are. Welcome.]