"Veganize THIS!", Assholes...

"Where have you been all this time?", "Where have you gone, Jenn?!". I would see e-mails of this subject, daily, hourly, piling up in my "Veganize This!" inbox. Although the email account had already been hacked, password changed, I could still see the opening line of the letter, as well as the subject. Always sighing to myself, as I foraged around Los Angeles in a rent-a-truck from Enterprise for a place to sleep (I'd already given up on eating. I didn't feel hunger anyways), or a place to safely park. The back-seat of the gigantic truck, which was in my possession as the result of a drunk driver slamming into my car, cock-blocking me from attempting to have safe sex with my drunk girlfriend by kindly pulling aside and putting my hazards on, was filled with what I thought to be important possessions. Computers, hard drives, clothes, etc. All of these things are now lost, stolen, sold on Craigslist, or meaningless of me in terms of value. I've learned to live life to the fullest by being stripped of everything, including my identity. Not by 1, not by 2, but at least 10 people over the course of a year.
Why haven't you seen a recipe post? Well, what fun would my recipes be if this blog was retitled "What Can Jenn Veganize From The Dollar Store With $6.50 and A Camp Burner". I didn't have a usable kitchen for almost 3-4 months, I was homeless for about 6-8 of those weeks. My 26th birthday fell between those weeks of homelessness, 4 of those weeks I had a cast on my right arm due to a "domestic dispute". I have had no money all of this time. I occasionally receive a Western Union transfer from my mother for 1 or 2 hundred if I'm lucky. But my parents accounts were hit as severely as mine, credit lines maxed out, new ones opened in their name and maxed out as well.
I was locked out of my own apartment, locks changed on both the door and mailbox. When I did get back inside due to a little good acting, I was usually bid farewell with a violent physical attack as I tried to obtain evidence (aka my personal belongings or items bought using my or my mother's Social Security Numbers). Eventually, they were evicted. Some things, I got back. Some things, I didn't. Some things, I was able to trace on the hard drive of the person who means the most to me in the world as "Sold Online" just based on a photo I'd found that I knew was only used for the purpose of a sales ad. I'm not an idiot. Don't try to get one past me. I've watched your every move, and the moves of others. Do I blame you? No. We were all trying to survive what was, and still is, a very tenuous time. The love we have for each other changes shape. We truly, finally understand each other completely. And that's why we have to be apart. That's why your desires for physical love manifests itself as an outlet, not an inlet. If you were to be plugged in right now, the energy would be too much for you.
Some women, I find, really get off on it, though. Even with the cast on my arm, which ruined my knife handling abilities, but not my ability to make a woman come faster than a flying Zebra, I could have a girl on top of a kitchen sink within 20 minutes of meeting her, orgasming without hesitation…my 21 year old girl-friend watching from outside. We were a polyamorous couple, after all. I had to break up with her. I didn't want to, but her safety was at steak. "They" kept finding me. Her reputation was still untarnished. When my little sister was hit, I knew it was time to say goodbye. She'd think I was an asshole, think I took her things and advantage of her. What I did was do her a favor. I can no longer be "Jenn Shagrin"…because she cannot have a bank account, line of credit, home loan or anything of that nature. She has "fucked up" too much, in the eyes of the government. When the creditors call me, somehow always obtaining my new number even though I've had to change it 4-5 times over the course of the past few months, they ask me questions I cannot answer. They ask me for payments on accounts that I'm either not responsible for opening, or lost control of long ago. Accounts I was working on paying down from being a stupid teenager with a credit card, maxed out again.
I eventually just gave up on trying to handle all the fraud myself.
I have a credit attorney and a criminal attorney, neither of which can handle the volume either. They think I'm making all of this up, because it's too much to compute. They don't understand how someone of stature and punk-rock look could be a victim. I must be part of the crime.
I have done no crime except trust and give people too much of my soul. And no, my soul wasn't FTC insured. I promise you, along with my heart, it's now guarded with steel. Does that mean I haven't faltered and fallen for a set of pretty eyes and nice tits? No. It does mean that my sense of intuition is heightened beyond that of most, and I can make decisions faster than a lightning bolt as to who is trustworthy and who isn't.
I await the day I can have a bank account again. I miss the luxury of buying things because I want them, or mainly, because my lover wants them. I want to travel, and I have all the freedom in the world right now because I finally, truly, don't give a fuck. Homeless and broke as fuck, you could steal my name and numbers, but not my wit and charm, nor my creativity. They'll just be assigned a different name and set of numbers, not the one carefully given to me by my parents before my birth. Sure, you can still call me Jenn. I wouldn't want anything else. I don't want anyone to know the "new name and numbers". Ever.
I will say this with a firmness, though: Yes, I intend to complete my second book, which was 2/3rds done back in February. Yes, they did sell my computer on craigslist. Did they know I had an online cloud computing back-up membership? No. Thankfully, I was able to recover all my recipe files and photos of completed ones. Will I potentially lose all those files soon because I don't have any credit cards, nor do my parents, to pay the $50 annual membership fee? Maybe. I never know what they next day brings. I do have a safe place to live now…I think. Yes, she is still by my side…at a small distance. No, her heart is not mine. It is others as well. Nor is mine hers. It's investments are diversified, always. Could it be reversed at the flick of a switch? Or course. She is, and always has been, my best friend and partner in crime. Only this time, it got out of hand.
I harbor no anger or resentment. All we do is sigh, look at each other, and smile…understanding exactly why we did what we did to each other. Understand this sick, twisted love that no one else can, only can they criticize. Sure, maybe we did too many drugs and had a little too much fun for a while, but why touch base with reality with I knew this is what would be found: my reality didn't exist anymore.
I'll be back soon. I promise.
I highly doubt many people have cried another sleepless night because they can't put a post on their goddamn blog. Don't want to let another fan slip away because they can't respond to their emails, or their lack of investment in their most intimate form of contact with their existence: A weekly update on a website. I will eat and sleep again when I know ALL of my family is safe, and so am I. This may take a while, but I've been sleeping more nights lately than ever. We've made a pact to work together, put new rings on each-others fingers, and move forward.
Funny thing is, no one notices this ring like they did the engagement. Nor do they ask "how they hell did you afford this?!". Well, like I said, she's always been my partner in crime…

As always, still publicly findable at jennshaggy [at] gmail . com...unless hacked again or otherwise.