self expression

The Tao of Lady Gaga

A reader sent me this video thinking I would be able to relate. I’m sorry it took me so long to view it! I love it—and the message.

Say what you will about Lady Gaga, you have to admit she’s an original—and I think an amazing talent.

But even SHE fell into the trap that fame sets for the sensitive creatives out there.
Forget fame.
Society.
Society can seduce you with its trappings. Wealth. Recognition. Social media “likes”.

It wants to define us. Tell us Who We Are.

It builds us up to tear us down.

Someone wise asked me recently, “How far are you willing to go to make a name for yourself? Who will you hurt? Your husband? Your friends? Yourself?”

Something to think about.

Stay centered. Stay unique. Stay honest.

I believe in you.

Carry on,
xox


“You can’t imagine not being able to find joy. Hating yourself. No matter how much success you have, no matter how many opportunities, fame, fortune, no matter how many accept you to your face, the person that really needs to accept you is you.”

“I realized that part of my identity is saying no to things I don’t wanna do. … It is your right to choose what you do and don’t do. It is your right to choose what you believe in and don’t believe in. It is your right to curate your life and your own perspective.”

“I started to say no. Nope, no, I’m not doing that. Then slowly but surely, I started to remember who I am. That person doesn’t just say yes, they have integrity.”

“No one can define who you are. I’ll be myself until they fucking close the coffin.”

~Lady Gaga

Amen, sister.

Everything Ends Better With Bacon

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Okay. So, tens of you, my darling readers, have been living in suspense, asking me for days how I broke my green drink fast and if indeed I found some clarity as a result.

The rest of you didn’t care—Good for you!

Well, the answer is—bacon and sort of.

By Wednesday (the fourth day), I had so much energy there wasn’t a speck of dust left on any surface in my house, all the prep and chopping was finished, and I baked several pies in the afternoon. That was after I completed a triathlon and learned Mandarin.

Boundless energy. Apparently that is the side effect of every cell in your body silently screaming for carbs.

My friend Kim came by to witness my bought of plant-based beverage madness. And steal a pie. She can attest to my supernatural buzz and cheerful disposition.

Apparently that was side effect number two—I was delightful. Ask Kim. Ask my husband. Ask the girl at the gym and the guy walking his dog past my car, (who I thought I’d spoken to earlier that morning so I picked up the conversation where we left off only to find out it wasn’t the same guy OR the same dog, but I just smiled and kept on jabbering away like he was my long-lost BFF).

Gaunt and boney, (hardly), even dingier, (hard to imagine, but true), and delightful (oh absolutely).

Because I wasn’t hungry. Not at all.

So here is what you’re waiting for, oh patient reader; you want to know how I broke my fast.

“Go slow”, everybody advised. “Eat deliberately, take your time. Start with something bland and inert, like, like, a lemon. Suck on a lemon. Or better yet, sip hot water with lemon.”

Yeah, That’s so me. I’m someone who’s going to suck on a lemon after four days without solid food.

I could not disappoint. Not myself and certainly not you guys. You don’t come here to read about a spiritual guru who sits in perfection and quiet contemplation—fasting—then sipping warm lemon water while they advise you on all things holy.

Fuck that! You can read Deepak or Marianne Williamson (both whom I adore BTW) if you want to read the obvious. The expected. Perfection personified. THAT is everywhere!

Nope, I broke my four-day fast with bacon—on. the. grill.
Stop gasping, or laughing or applauding, I can’t hear myself think it’s so loud!

Here’s the thing, the kitchen was otherwise occupied Thanksgiving morning. My mad scientist/chef of a husband had the stove and oven firing on all cylinders—but I wanted bacon.
I needed bacon.

So I became inventive, industrious and clever as I utilized all the benefits of a four-day brain cleanse.

I cooked bacon—in a pan—ON THE GRILL! BAM!

Genius! And delicious. And satisfying as hell. It made me so happy I had a stupid grin and bacon grease on my face all day.

See, aren’t you happy it wasn’t freakin’ lemon water? I see you grinning, I can guarantee you—nobody grins all day from lemon water.

Besides, I’m not that girl and this isn’t that kind of blog.

Someone asked me the other night about the blog and I told them this, “I write the blog I always wanted to read: Sassy, messy, with stories of tragedy and triumph, tales of sorrow and success, with a dash of irreverence and a touch of cursing all wrapped in humor…and bacon.”

See that? Clarity.

Carry on,
xox

Hi, I’m Janet

Mentor. Pirate. Dropper of F-bombs.

This is where I write about my version of life. My stories. Told in my own words.

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