Trying to find my voice

Posted on May 3, 2009


For the past 8 years, existing as Penny Flame, I’ve found it incredibly easy to say whatever the fuck I want. Whatever way I want. At no point have I ever worried about repercussions, hurt feelings, or cruel words that may have wrecked a stranger’s day. No, I’ve lived blissfully behind the guise of a pornstar, “a woman so heartless” as Kanye so eloquently puts it, and never have I been at a lack for words because it seems as though it is simple to say what you want when hiding behind a bitch as strong as Penny Flame. 

However I’ve run into a little problem is starting this blog. I feel as though I have no voice. As though I, Jennie, have absolutely  nothing to say that is meaningful, nothing funny or anecdotal, nothing of importance or significance. And there are a couple reasons behind this little problem, the first being me. The second being my impression of you. The third? Well, that can only be understood by examining the first two. 

The first reason I’m having trouble finding my voice is because I’ve never actually used it. This is an entirely new arena for me, this speaking out as Jennie Ketcham and not Penny Flame. And due to the fact that I’ve only recently remembered that I am Jennie Ketcham, I’m not quite sure how to speak, or think, or act, or feel. The last being the most important. I don’t know how to feel. 

Lets say that again. 

I don’t know how to feel.

There is no emotion that was powerful enough to overwhelm Penny Flame. From the break-ups with the fuck toys (because lord knows Penny doesn’t date), to the idiotic pictures posted all over the internet of her being shitfaced drunk, to the fact that her mother is a raging alcoholic (albeit so am I, but that is never something Penny could admit), no single event could ever break down Penny Flame. It seems as though now, these are all incredibly significant events, and they break me, as Jennie down. They break down Jennifer Ketcham, the name I was born into, the one on my birth certificate. And I apologize for speaking about Penny as though she is a different girl than me, but fundamentally, she is. I don’t want to keep separating my actions from hers, but at this point I feel I must in order to separate myself from the little monster created. Because she is a monster, one that has gone tearing through this town crushing everything in her path. 

Back to the point. Now speaking as Jennie, and trying to become her, to re-become her, I’m not quite as confident. I don’t have the flow of verbal ass juice that I once had when I could hide behind fake eyelashes and HD foundation. I’m a little nervous I won’t be well received. For instance, when I checked into the clinic and realized that people would be calling me Jennie instead of Penny, I broke down crying, in fear that the world would not like me as I am. That I would not be taken seriously, which is an ironic statement coming from a Pornstar.

My biggest fear is that in being myself and writing what I feel, I will not be loved. 

The second problem is my impression of you, which directly relates to the last sentence of the previous paragraph. During the past 8 years, letting the world understand me as Penny Flame, I’ve had a hard time imagining any one person liking me as Jennie. For example, I have a hard time trusting guys as Jennie because of a constant worry that they are only fucking a pornstar, and not a person. Cry Cry Cry I know, but this becomes a problem if you ever want to take a relationship seriously. Not that I have EVER wanted to take a relationship seriously, but if that desire had arisen, my immediate concern that the guy I’m fucking probably thinks Penny while he’s saying Jennie is another blow to the personal self esteem boat. 

So that is my sad, twisted, and insecure impression of you, my viewer, and myself. That you will not like me once I expose that regular, emotionally raw, sometimes down and intimacy impaired woman that I am. These issues are being worked out on this open space called the internet, and it carries over from hours of inpatient rehab and outpatient therapy.  So occasionally I may ramble off some psycho babble bullshit, but only if I feel as though it applies to me. 

The third problem is that I don’t want this blog to be all sad shit, and AA this and SA that,  I don’t want it to become a place where I bitch and moan about the pain I am in, or have caused, or the worries I have about my inner self, or my life, basically I don’t want to focus on bad things when there are incredibly positive things to think and write about. 

For instance, my dogs farts. My dog has the worst farts known to dogkind, and there is nothing I can do to fix it. She can clear a room in 2.3 seconds, and when she’s feeling funky, she will walk around my home from room to room farting her way into the next non stinky area. The main goal in her perfect little doggy life revolving around playing, sleeping, eating and shitting is to make every single room in my home smell like ass. 

This morning, as we were partaking of our early morning snuggle session (every morning I wake up and her substantial cranium is snuggled tight next to mine), she let one rip that actually woke me up. It was louder than the submarine alarm on my iphone, and smelled worse than anything fart she’s ever let loose before. She was also upside down, so her butt was in my face, and her face down by my waist. And the zinger? The bitch slept right through it. I woke up to the worst smelling dog ass in my face, 7:30am wake up and smell your dogs ass, and she slept through it. In fact, she snores, and kept right on like a little motor boat. So what did I do?

I woke her ass up and made her go on a 2 hour hike, after I farted right back in her face. Fucking dogs. Two can play at this game.

Anyway, I promise every entry won’t be about going to meetings, and how nervous I am to be myself. Some days will be rough, some will be smooth, but they will all be days that I am glad to be here, on earth, and with you. So thank you.