Monthly Archives: October 2012

Changing Locations Again

I’m moving my blog one more time.  I had to set up a brand new account to make sure the Angry Mob of Melanie Haters don’t follow me by clicking on my gravatar.  This is a pain in the arse…

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Why Hello There New and Improved Blog

Hi, I’m Melanie.  This is a continuation of my old blog that I retired due to the unruly people reading it.  These unruly people are called the Angry Mob Melanie Haters, and I am the maestro.  They are a group of people determined to ruin my life.  Just so you don’t miss out on all the fun, I’ll show you the very last post I wrote:

An ex-friend told L (the girl who slept with my ex-boyfriend while I was there to hear her moans [Yes she was moaning!])  they told her that I was writing shit about her in my blog.  This is a small example of who these people are.  They are ruthless and vengeful and will not stop until they see me dead and buried.  L never read my blog in her life, but after hearing that I posted shit, dug in her claws.  She didn’t like what she read.

I was being honest.  Everything was true!  TRUE TRUE TRUE!  She responded back by saying not to post stuff at the expense of others and that she’s a mother and a professional and to not publish it.  Then fucking act like a mother and a professional so you won’t have to hear hurtful truths.  It hurts to hear, but I’m right!

She had sex with him while I was THERE.  Do you have any idea how painful it was listening to something like that?  I don’t give a shit if I ever see these people again.  Everyone’s reading this, yay for everyone!  You can all suck monkey balls!

After reading my blog, L went and told Dave I was writing shit about him. These people are ruthless.  They don’t care who they hurt.  Haven’t they put me through enough hell?

So Dave found the link to my site which I’m pretty sure was given to him, and read everything.

I’m not apologizing to anyone.  My blog is anonymous.  I wanted everyone to stop invading my privacy and to stop reading it, but they didn’t.  Everything I write here is factual – REAL and HONEST, so nobody should have to “forgive” me for writing it.  They can’t forgive me because I’m not sorry!  If they still want to be my friend, they all have to grow up and own up.  Act like actual human beings carrying around godly souls instead of their unwavering meanness.  How can people live with themselves?  How can they treat a bleeding heart (me) like scum?  Not even scum, just an unmaterialized substance like I don’t exist.  Why can’t they see it?  Why’s it only me that see’s people?

All I’ve been saying to everyone is “I’m sorry, Oh I’m really sorry.”  I’m sick of apologizing.  I’m not kissing anyone’s ass anymore.  When I apologize, that’s like saying I was wrong.  But I’m not wrong.  I know I’m not wrong.

People are completely insane.  I look around me and all I see are grabby people.  Grabbing and clawing at me one minute and spitting on me the next.  Who are these fucking people?  Who the hell are they?

And what did I ever do?  I always try to do what’s right.  Always.  People are so damaged.  It kills me to witness it.  And I bend over, take it up the ass and say “I’m sorry.”

You can all shove it.  Work out your problems using someone else, I’m done taking it.

I feel like a maestro with a wand in my hand – orchestrating a symphony of Angry Melanie Haters.  The Angry Mob Melanie Haters – music to my ears.  Sing, bitch, moan, wail, throw stuff, leave me to die – leaving me to die is when the fat lady sings.

Suck.

Monkey.

Balls.

Everything was fine, I was forgiving and understanding.  But now after hearing them wanting me to apologize, no fucking way.  Fuuuck that.

I’m retiring this blog.  It’s gone too public now.  I’m starting over with a new one.  So all you assholes can’t read it anymore.  I’m dropping all my followers, starting my stats back to zero.  I hope you’re all satisfied with yourself.

Don’t try to find me cause you won’t.

Hope you enjoyed this shit show.

On a completely unrelated note, I massaged Mike Hunt the other day.  True story.

And that’s how I’m leaving things.  These people can’t harm me if they don’t have access to my blog anymore.  They are bad news.  It took a lot of guts for me to post that, but I won’t regret it anytime soon.  If anything, I would regret not posting it.

I imported all of my old entries because I didn’t want to start from scratch completely.  I’d like to keep a uniform, continuous account of my life.  My stats are at zero, my followers – a big fat O.

I’m crossing my fingers hoping no one finds me here.

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Oh Groupon..

Down a dark deserted hallway

There’s a small windowless room

Where Melanie the Masseuse lies encased in her tomb

Century’s passed since she last uttered a word

Era’s gone by and she has not stirred

She lies there dreaming of a life that once was

Memories are sharp

Digging around with their claws

Being cryogenically frozen in space and time

Her lips and skin blue

Hair matted down like glue

She lays there awake

Her mind never off

She see’s only the darkness behind

an old linen cloth 

The hallway outside brightens and buzzes

The flourescent lights turning on

Her ears perk up

She hushes

“What’s going on?  What’s happening out there?”

Rolling down her cheek is a lonesome frightful tear.

Someone rambles in

her chambers where she lies within

“Hello?  Is someone there?”

Her chin

Quiverin’

“It’s just me your next client.  Do not be alarmed, I’m compliant.

Your clients await you, they’re filing in by the masses.

So get up my dear friend, 

Get up and massage 400 asses.”

I’m waiting for my next client.  It’s 11:09.  She’s late.  Damn.  I hate calling people.  I’ll wait until 11:15, than I’ll call her.

I wrote that ode in the 20 minutes I’ve been sitting here waiting.

Tick tock

Tick tock

Sonuva…

It’s a dark rainy day here on October 12th

It’s payday from Groupon

Now aint that just swell – th

I like getting money instead of waiting in the dark

Being frozen in time, eating up minutes like a shark

Ahhh What am I saying?

Shit where is this lady.

It’s not a lady, it’s a man and I got his voice mail.  This is not good.  I need to be fully booked everyday 6 days a week cause you know why?  You want to know why?  Because I’m pretty much screwed in the ass otherwise.

I’m not just massaging 400 asses – it’s a lot more than that.  A shit ton more.

Groupon wanted to sell a package deal – buy 3 massages for $100.  I get $17.50 a massage plus tip, so I said sure sounds great.

Besides, most people will opt for the one hour.  Buying 3 sessions to get a rub down by someone you don’t know is highly unlikely.  Well, Groupon took it upon themselves to “sell out” of the 60 and 90 minute massage options.  How can you sell out of massages?

I found this out from two of my clients.

“Really?  I had no idea they did that.  How would I sell out of massages?”

So last night I looked online and saw how many of the package deals I sold.  I want to cry.  I want to cry, weep, wither and die.  I want to stick Groupon with a sharp pointy stick in their eye.

I sold 200 of the buy 3 deal.  200!  200 X 3 = well, you do the math.  I have to give 800 massages within the next 5 months.  Break that down day by day that’s 5 clients a day if I work 7 days a week.  5 clients a day, and then I’m getting repeat full priced clients on top of that.

I’m fuuuuuuucked.  Fucked.  Hence the poem.  I am so freaking out right now.  I’m calling Groupon, screw it.  I’m calling them right now.

Damn I’m on hold.  It’s 11:39.  Let’s see how long it takes for them to pick up.

I feel like I’m going to shit my pants.

I desperately need a desk in here.  My back doesn’t hurt after a day a massaging, it only hurts when I type in my blog.  I’m hunched over with the Mac in my lap.  Ouch.  A tv tray is no desk.  It’s not tall enough.

11:42

What song is this?  Is it supposed to keep me calm?  It’s not working.

11:48.  I just got off the phone with them.   The private sale in now turned off – thank the lord Jesus.  I only had 24 more to sell before reaching 400, but 24 x 3 = Well, you do the math.  I’m bad at it.

I’ll be okay.  Everything will be okay.  I’m making money, this is a good thing.  It’s what I wanted.  And selling on Groupon requires a huge price in advertising, so I’ll be able to deduct my losses as a business expense – I won’t have to pay much at all for taxes next year.

Instead of getting an accountant to deal with everything, I’m learning how to do it all myself.  I studied the different options, weighed the pro’s and con’s and opted for a sole proprietorship.  It’s versatile and also allows for health insurance deductions.   I won’t have to pay a dime in health insurance.  The massage association offers a plan to insured practitioners, so that’s on my to-do list.

Think about it, why pay an accountant when I can take that money and donate it to charity instead and in the process teach myself the in’s and out’s of the tax world.

I bought Turbo Tax software for sole proprietorship from Amazon for $8.  Laziness is the bane of all human existence.  I’m trying to do the opposite.

Damn I need a desk.  Shit yo.

I’m going to read a little and lay on my back on my Spoonk mat.

spoonk mat

Click on the image if you want one.

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Without Communication

Bright, shiny objects!

Live Life Quotes, Love Life Quotes, Live Life Happy

via Without Communication.

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Another day another back rub

My last client was a little strange.  She’s an older woman, and one of those people who like a painfully deep massage.  She gave me a hug when it was over and didn’t want to let go.  She kept rubbing my back.  Not patting, but rubbing.  My brow furrowed and my eyes wondered around the room asking the question, “is this weird?”

She asked me a few questions and stared at me.

Her – “Who takes care of you?”

Me – “Um….”

I was about to say my parents take care of me, but that didn’t seem like the right response.  I spot my back buddy (a device used to massage my own back) and snatched it up.

Me – “My back buddy.  It works really well.  I don’t have enough time to get massages these days.”

She stared at me smiling.

I started using my back buddy.

Me – “….”

More staring.

Me – “It really works.”

Me – “I’m eating sushi for lunch.  I try to take care of myself.”

She rummaged around in her purse.

Me thinking “Oh good please pull out tip money and not a business card.”

She handed me a business card.

Her – “You should come see me.  I’m right down the street in Middletown.  I’ll give you a reflexology session on the house.”

My ears perk up whenever I hear the words “on the house.”

Me – “Oh thank you so much.  I’ll definitely come see you.  Thanks.”

She hugged me again.

Her – “That was wonderful what you did.”

She was referring to the massage.

When I give a massage, I like to make contact with the persons hands to form a connection.  And it feels really nice and comforting while I’m massaging their inner forearm.  It’s the only part of the massage where an intimate professional bond can be formed.  25% of men (possibly more), like to grasp my hand and hold it.  Sometimes caressing it, which sketches me out, but it’s usually innocent.  With women it’s more like 5% (if that).  She was a hand holder.

I never had reflexology before, and she didn’t leave me a tip so I feel like I should go do it.  Is this a bad idea?  I don’t know.  It was weird, you’re just going to have to trust me on that.

After the massage, I went into the break room for a little sushi lunch.  I ate a couple pieces and looked at the time.  12:30.  I’ll be here until 8:30 tonight.  I left the remainder of my sushi to save it for later.  I have to make it stretch.  My next client doesn’t get here until 2:30, so here I am blogging.  It’s 1:02 now.

I guess I should read a little.

After ordering business cards from Vista Print, they show you a bunch of little add-on’s you can choose from for cheap.  One of these add-on’s were stickers.  So I bought a bunch of stickers for my clients to stick on after getting a massage.

I found it ingenious.  I only offer them to tippers.

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Patience Padawan

In my last post I wrote about being happier and more aware with each passing day, but my goal in life is not to obtain happiness, but to experience everything.  I want to go out there in the world and get dirty, play, love, hurt, feel – to be anything other than numb.  The more hurt I feel, the stronger I become and I’m able to handle anything life throws at me.  As long as I can let go and roll with it.  People are who they are, they do what they do – it’s who they are and I must accept it.  I have no choice really.  No one does.

I’m great at rolling with the tides.  That’s what makes me a great traveler – Bring It is what I say.  This life is trivial, laugh when you can.

What I was thinking today during a massage:

99.99% of the universe is made up of anti-matter.  99.99% of our bodies are made up of space.  99.99% of an atom is space.  We are more not here, than here.  And the matter we can see in the universe, is only a square inch of a peal of paint on the very top of the empire state building.  Does the entirety of the empire state building merely exist to support that one flake of paint?

Everything in nature has a purpose.  Each cell is awake having a conscious and a purpose.  Nothing in our bodies is for naught – doesn’t that apply to the universe as well?

Our brains are made up of atoms, those tiny objects that are comprised mostly of space.  They facilitate our thinking, waking, mind.  If 99.99% of our brain is space, than how dumb are we?

I massaged my client  (a mild-mannered, always smiling asian man) with my black aya eyes forming over my pupils like cataracts.

“Wow….”

The shit I think about is trippy.

Where is my client?  I’m sitting here waiting.  It’s nice blogging an all, but I want these Groupon people done and over with.  She would be number 97 out of 400.  I’m massaging a total of 8 hours today, but only 3 count as new Groupon people, the rest I had before.  Okay, I’m going to call her.  Damn it I hate calling people.

Bah she’s not coming in.  She rescheduled online, but it didn’t go through so now I have no idea when her next appointment is.  I wish I kept her on the phone dammit.

I went to Birkram Yoga with Amy the other day.  Let me just tell you, Hole – Lee – Shit.  I walked into the room, 104 degree’s, humidity 75% and I wanted to turn around a walk back out.  It felt claustrophobic, I couldn’t breath.  It was my first reaction to the heat – my flight or fight response.  But I stayed.  I stayed for the whole 90 minutes and did every single pose that the instructor allowed me to do.  And guess what?  I liked it!  I actually friggin’ liked it.  How weird am I?  Very weird indeed.

The thing I liked most about it wasn’t the poses, the strength building or stretches.  It was having no choice but to remain calm.  My actions had to be deliberate and thought out.  My mind had to be clear, there was no other choice.  Doing otherwise would’ve caused the heat to rattle my senses and have me run out screaming.

It taught me patience, calmness and humility.  Having acceptance of what my body is capable of doing, and the understanding that I can improve upon it.  It takes meditation to a whole new level.  I was back in the inipi sweat lodge, surrendering and trusting the heat.  The experience I had with the inipi helped immensely.  I was smiling when doing it – actually smiling while holding poses – I was just so content and relaxed – it was a happy, safe place to be.

We sweat our asses off and my hair was drenched when it was over.  We went back to Billy O’s for lunch.  It was perfect.  I had one beer.  I’m allowed one beer.

Speaking of beer, Dave wants me to go to a birthday party on Saturday.  This is the moment of truth.  Do I go or not?  I love Dave damn it.  That night after Billy O’s, when he was shit faced riding his motorcycle – I was so worried about him getting home.  I haven’t heard from him for the next three days after that and started freaking out that maybe something happened.  As soon as I heard he was okay, I calmed down.  I can usually go weeks without hearing from the guy, and I’ll be fine.  What I don’t know, can’t worry me.  But when I know he’s on that damn bike drinking, I worry.

I care about him a lot.  So, I don’t know.  I can’t ditch the guy.  Even if he did read my blog, he would probably still be my friend.  That’s just who he is.  He bends over and takes it up the ass from others just like I do.

I don’t care what he does, he’s my friend and I’ll always have his back.

I was talking to my last client about dealing with bad influences in your life.  She said it’s important to set boundaries with them.  When it comes to family and friends – the difficult ones that you’re faced with seeing – you just have to set boundaries.

I have so much fun with Dave that my boundaries get smeared and rubbed off with beer.  It’s something I’m going to have to work on.  Self discipline is never fun.

I sent my no-show client an email.  I hope she gets it before her “scheduled” appointment.  I hate technical details like that.  I don’t want to worry about it.  I am so on top of my clients shit that it’s not even funny.  I double check, no triple check everything.  I triple checked her email before sending it out.

I’m good at this organization crap.  I have all the right tools.  First the tools, than the product.

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It’s either all or nothing

Freud's diagrams from 'The Ego and the Id' (1923)

Freud’s diagrams from ‘The Ego and the Id’ (1923) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The most powerful information I received during my awakening was that giving is everything.  We can not survive on our own, we must help others to help ourselves.  And by helping others, we evolve into higher blessed beings.

GIVING IS EVERYTHING is written several times in my ayahuasca journal.  Strength is beauty, ego is illusion and this world is fantasy.

I haven’t been the same since I got back from Colombia.  Everyday I progress towards my higher self.  With every passing day, I’m finding myself happier and awake.

I give to everyone.  I love and respect everyone.  Everyone needs love.  Everyone deserves respect.  However, I’m not sacrificing myself anymore to feed others false ego’s.  Ego’s are dangerous.  Ego’s cause pain and war. It’s truth’s opposite, opposite of humility and humanity.  Therefore, I tell the truth – all of the truth and nothing I write is an embellishment or falsified in any way.  If I exaggerate anything, writing in my own personal journal for my own benefit, than whats the point of it?  If I’m not honest here, I can’t be honest anywhere.

The girl who had sex with my ex-boyfriend while I was in the next room, read my blog.  Now she’s pissed.  I can’t help the way I view her, it’s what I see until I see different.  And I can’t ignore the times Dave put me in danger.  He shot a gun out of my car window.  Am I exaggerating that?  He shot a gun out my car window, he nearly crashed Amy’s quad that she cherishes, shot off rounds in her old log cabin.  How is this exaggerating?  I’m stating, not telling.

I accepted who she is, I forgave her.  It was a fucked up thing to do to me, but I forgave her.  Nobody’s perfect and I don’t judge others on their faults and mistakes because why bother?  Their shit has nothing to do with me.  And who really cares what I think anyway?  I’m not of brilliant mind, I’m no angel.

But I can’t have impartial friends.  An impartial friend is someone I can’t be myself around, I always have to placate to their needs – to never say how I feel.  No, I can’t have impartial friends.  I tried that with my ex-friends, but I ended up suffering in the long run.  It’s either all or nothing with me.  But by saying how I feel, all the people who claimed to be my friends, turned out not being friends at all.  Just shadows of what a real friend looks like.  Like Plato’s cave allegory, only images having no substance.  The beauty of it is that if they can’t be a real friend to me, then they can’t be a real friend to anybody, so I can’t take it personal.  Not taking it personal is a great relief (at least for my ego).

What is a real friend anyway?

A real friend wouldn’t leave me stranded in a third world country because of her own warped agenda, a real friend wouldn’t sleep with my ex (let alone with me being there to hear the Ohh Ahh sounds [a painful twisting of the knife]), a real friend would always have my back, help me up when I fall (even if I say I’m okay) – a real friend would care.  They would put themselves aside and care about someone other than themselves for even only two minutes.  They have the rest of the day to divulge in themselves, they can’t take 2 minutes away from themselves to feel what it’s like walking in my shoes?

Eh, I don’t care anymore anyway.  Everyone hates me, I’m a martyr that always gets yelled at for something.  I make people see the truth they don’t want to hear and I get crucified.  It’s always me that gets hurt.  Always.  I can handle it – bring it.

This is my blog, what I put in here is for me.  Readers must read at their own risk because what comes out aint always pretty.  If I feel I’ve been wronged, damn skippy it’s going in here.

The raw truth hurts, but here it is.

I’m not candy coating shit.

Whatever new friends I acquire now, will be of a different stock.  Not just the shadows.  As you get older you learn who your true friends are – this is sad news, but gets you in the doorway for something greater.

So anyway, that’s that.  I told people not to read my blog anymore, I told them.  But they insist.  This girl is most likely going to give Dave the link to my blog so he can be rid of me too.  People use me up like a tissue and throw me away when they don’t like the contents that come out of them.  Everyone has gooey grossness on the inside.  I put my own grossness on a pedestal.  My blog is my high horse.

Anyway, what was I saying?  Oh right, giving is everything.  I want to sponsor a child from a foreign country.  I just need to figure out the best foundation to do it with.  That will be my project for tomorrow.  That was the main point of my post this evening, but it turned into something way different.  You never know where a post will take you..

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Oh Dave….

I met Dave at Billy O’s last night.  He was a big drunken mess.  When I first spotted him sitting there by himself on the bar stool, I felt like a fool for meeting him out.  This isn’t my life anymore.  Drinking and getting drunk served its purpose and now’s the time to get it together.

Dave was not together.  He was slurring his words, hair all disheveled, falling off the bar stool and dropping stuff.  To me, he seemed depressed.  Why else would someone do this to themselves unless they’re madly depressed?

He was driving his motorcycle.

Me – “Are you serious Dave?  How can you do this?  You’re going to AA classes and here you are like this.”

Dave – “I’m responsible.  I’m this close to being an adult.”

He held his two fingers close together.

Me – “No you’re not.  You can’t drive.”

In the not so distant past, I was with Dave at the beginning of each drunken night.  I was right there beside him having a blast and getting shit faced and then we would both drive off on his motorcycle to our next destination.  I was a fool back then.  I lost count how many times we driven drunk like that.  Me on the back of his bike, my foot scraping the pavement when he leaned over a little too far.

Dave – “You okay?”

Me – “Yeah, that was a close one though.”

He shot his gun outside my car window while I was driving.  We were running parallel next to a lake, beyond the lake was a town.  Dave fired his gun towards the lake and I closed my eyes hoping he was aiming at the water and not the town.

He does hard drugs – the ones I stay away from, and gets in fights with people over the drugs thinking that they are cheating him out of his portion.

I had to blow into his breathalyzer attached to his truck because he was too drunk to do it.  The truck would not start otherwise.  Then I had to repeatedly blow into the breathalyzer while he was driving.

He used Heather like a slab of roast beef, he’s still banging an emotionally inept girl (yesterday) and now he’s slapping his animal salami with my friend who likes the attention from guys.  She met us at the bar last night and I was glad to see her, glad she was there.  I was hoping she would take him home with her so I wouldn’t have to be the one to worry about him.  I’m not one to babysit.  My one harshness in me is not helping others who don’t help themselves.  Their problems are not my concern – it’s up to them to fix their own shit.

But then I had the added concern of him getting touchy feely with me while my friend whom he let’s play with his skin flute is standing right there to witness it.

Dave – “Give me a hug Melanie.  Come on give me a hug.”

His arms outstretched with a big goofy grin on his face.

Mel – “Okay.  There you go – Yay a friend hug.”

I patted his back.  He hugged me tight and didn’t want to let go.

My friends from long ago were there.  They are good friends, but the kind you don’t call or see much, but we go way back.  One of them was giving me the eye.  He had a look of confused disgust on his face.  I saw him looking at me and I read his mind.

His mind – “Why are you with that loser?”

I lifted my eyebrows and shrugged  to say “yeah I know, I don’t get it either…”

Almost the entire bar dislikes Dave.  They hate seeing him with me.  The bartender doesn’t like him, Amy doesn’t want anything to do with him.

She’s showing me his true colors.  Kristie tried showing me his true colors, but I was blind and didn’t want to hear it.  I’m a loyal good friend to have so I try to stay impartial in arguments amongst friends.

However, I like Amy.  I like her a lot and so I’m listening to her.  She know’s a lot of shit and my brother knows a lot of shit, so together they’re making me see.  Amy is the same age as my brother, so it’s like I have two older siblings looking out for me, not just one.

I’m stuck.  I hate abandoning people.  Dave’s hazardous to himself and to others, but as my role as his friend, should I help him?  Is he calling out for help?  I can’t just turn away when things get serious – when there really is a problem to deal with.  I know what it’s like being abandoned, and its a wretched feeling.  Both emotionally and physically, it’s a feeling of complete wretchedness.

So, I don’t know.  I’ll just keep it at that for now.  It’s not like I can see Dave that much anymore anyway.  I wish I didn’t go out last night because even with the little amount of alcohol I drank, I still feel like crap today.  I feel like crap and I’m in a crappy mood.

It’s now the next day.  The cleaning lady was here last night.  I was giving a girl a massage at around 8pm and we could both hear the cleaning lady outside the door huffing and puffing and swearing to herself.

Me – “Oh, sorry about that.  The cleaning lady is grouchy.”

We both start laughing.  Every time we heard a grumble, we broke out in laughter.  It feels so good to laugh about it.  At least now I’m not the only one who see’s it.

I feel great today.  I went home after work, played a little Skyrim and fell asleep at 11:30 like a normal person.  I can’t drink anymore like I used to.  I feel wonderful and I’m making my clients feel wonderful.  And I’m figuring out a plan of attack when dealing with my budget.  I have to stop spending.  It’s only the first month, so I have no idea how much I’m actually making in comparison to how much I can spend.  I need to talk to an accountant, get my taxes figured out, file away my receipts, and set up a daily budget.  Now’s the time to do it.  Once that’s configured, I can spend without worry – one less thing to worry about.

I’ll get home tonight at a reasonable hour, so I can clean out my closet.  I’m looking forward to it like you would not believe.  I’m weird like that.  I just bought myself a new pair of awesome leather boots for the winter, but I don’t have any room for them.  I need to make room for the things I love.  It’s a feng shui thing.  If you make room for the things you love, you’ll receive more of it.

Whats in my car right now?

A 4 inch twin size memory foam mattress topper

2 platypus water bottles

A lamp

A handy dry bag to store a roll of toilet paper in for camping trips

Roller blades

Jacket

Blankets

Old straw hat

Socks

Grocery bags

Garbage and lots of it

I also need to clear out my car.  I love Esmeralda the Escort, I need to take care of her better.

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The Mind of Mel

I’m a jeans and T-shirt wearing, no makeup kind of girl.  I never cared much about my clothes or appearance (or anyone else’s for that matter).  I figured that as long as your clothes are clean, fuck it, right?  And forget makeup, I don’t even wash my face!  Am I gross?  I don’t know.  That’s debatable.

But now that I’m making money, I can shop for just about anything I want and the clothes / makeup department are looking mighty tempting.  I never knew I had this side to me and I don’t think I like it.  Am I getting greedy?  Am I becoming a shopaholic?  Why is this happening, am I just bored?

Truth is, I don’t make nearly as much as some people, but this is honestly the most I ever had in my life.  I made $135 today in cold hard cash and I still have one more client coming in and that doesn’t include the 10 grand from Groupon.

That is what I average a day, but it’s only day 27 of Groupon and I’m already getting full-priced paying clients.  It’s an exciting time being me right now.  And it’s only the beginning…

Granted, I am working like a hideous massage monkey on crack.  But clients are rolling in and loving me!  My back doesn’t hurt, my hands feel great and nimble – I’m flying high.  I’m in the zone.

Day 9 of Groupon was the worst.  The phone non-stop ringing, 6 or 7 clients for 9 days straight.  Waking up at 8 am, then going out to the bar.  I was still in my old sleep / bar schedule, so day 9 did me in.  I was literally rolling around on the floor clutching my knee’s to my chest chanting with tears in my eyes “I can’t do this I can’t do this oh my god I can’t do this.”  My back was killing me.

But here I am at day 27.  I made it through the tough parts and acclimated.  Groupon sobered me up and is making me an adult.

Dave wants to meet tonight for a drink.  In my last post I proclaimed that I must stay away from Billy O’s at all costs, but alas it was a false promise.  Cause here I am going.  I haven’t seen Dave since the whole Lisa debauchery, so he probably thinks I’m mad at him or something, which I’m not.  It’s his drama, not mine.  But I can’t win either way.  He’ll be upset to know I don’t care and upset to know if I do care.  I have to roll with the punches.

Spend spend spend.  That’s all I want to do.  I want to go home and shop on Amazon for everything under the sun – that’s all, only everything.

For years now I’ve been wanting a big dragon tattoo put on my back by a very fine artist I graduated high school with.  The only reason I put it off for so long was the price.  Now I have money so I must get dragon on my back.  Yes to dragon.

The zombie apocalypse is approaching, so I need a dragon tattoo to survive.  If you watch zombie movies, you will notice that all the survivors have very defining characteristics.  The majority are lovable, but also have zeal.  And possess some sort of physical appealing trait.  My dragon tattoo will be my appealing trait – who would want me dead having a thing like that on my back?  Not me that’s for sure.  No sir ree.  And since I’m doing yoga, so I’ll also be smokin’ hot.  Cause I’m doing hot yoga…

Who am I kidding, I’ll be the first to get eaten.  Not only get eaten, but I’ll actually surrender and offer myself up to those gory greedy chompers.

I wanted the tattoo long before that book and movie came out, the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.  As soon as I heard about the book, my heart sank.

“Life is like a daring adventure or nothing”

Said in the words of Helen Keller.

I want to put that quote on top of my foot with little footprints marking my life’s journey.  Shit, I’m going to be covered.

My next client called and said she’d be a half hour late.  She’s cutting into beer time.  Oh well, at least I can blog.

Spend spend spend.  What else can I buy?  Hmmm…..

Nothing.  I can’t think of anything else I want.  That’s no fun.

I need to clean out my closet.  It’s overflowing with clothes – not just my clothes, but everyone else’s.  People give me clothes they don’t want anymore and me being the scavenger that I am, snatch them up.  I’m out of hangers and room.  I’m looking forward to the big clean sweep.  It’s refreshing starting over.  It’s like being back in the beginners mind – having a new set of eyes to see.  It’s actually a perpetual state of mind for me.  To have no clutter – no attachments.  Every day is a new start.

I want to burn sage but I’m afraid of getting yelled at.

I hope the cleaning lady isn’t here today.  The elevator is acting crazy.

I need a more comfortable chair to sit in.

My mom made

Health

Health (Photo credit: 401(K) 2012)

corn chowder last night.  Jealous?

Jeez where is this lady?  My butt hurts and I want beer.

I’m excited to see Dave.  I really  miss the guy, who knew?

Damn I think I’m getting greedy.  I’m becoming a materialistic greedy bastard.  I need to get a grip on this situation ASAP.  You know what I want to do right now?  See exactly how much money I made in cash from these past 27 days.  I wrote down all the cash money clients gave me next to their name.  No, not doing it.  Not important.  I feel vain just by writing about it.  Am I vain or excited?

Come on lady where are you?  I hate this post.  I’m going to stop writing.

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Time to whip my butt into shape!

Yoga Class at a Gym Category:Gyms_and_Health_Clubs

Yoga Class at a Gym Category:Gyms_and_Health_Clubs (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Micky is on the phone talking over invincible air raids.  I’m sitting here on my bench in the office.

I’m starting to get to that comfortable feeling again.  You know what I’m talking about?  It’s the feeling you get when you like your job, you’re making good money and you have absolutely zero things to stress about.  I spent the majority of my life being in this feeling.  This is where I belong – yes, really.  It’s where I belong….

I talked before about me being like a coin; one side is all daffodils and daisy’s but on the other is prickly cacti.  Why do I have to choose a side?  I don’t want to choose to be happy or good anymore, I don’t want to choose to be anything.  I’m just going to Be and see what happens.  I’ll be the serrated edges of a quarter instead.  Jagged and jaded but not fooling herself or nobody.

This is where I’m most content.  This is where I feel like myself.  The problem is, I lose all my professionalism and clients become friends I never met.  But they seem to like this!  At first people act all old and adult, but then they loosen up a bit and I see how they were in high school – they act young again.

I haven’t been doing anything lately accept work.  Camping was the last time I did anything.  It was fun, I had a blast.  I smoked pot and drank myself 6 beers by the fire.  I slept like a baby.

I signed myself up for birkram yoga.  I start on Monday.  Amy went for the first time last week and said it was hard.  Very VERY hot.  I’m going to tough it out.  Doing hot yoga was part of my awakening – I saw how much our bodies are connected to our spirits, and was shown how important yoga is for keeping that connection healthy.  I don’t know how or why, but yoga especially.  And it should be easy dragging myself there every week if Amy’s counting on me to be there.

I have to start exercising for the Camino.  I’m also going to start a running program in the morning before work which means that I have to go to bed early.  No more late night video games or watching one show after the other on Netflix, and absolutely no – and I mean NO Billy O’s.

I’m going to try out the 5K Runner app on the iPhone.  While you’re listening to music, a voice cuts in to tell you when to walk or run.  It may sound silly, but for anyone who ever tried running, it’s a huge lifesaver to be told when it’s okay to slow down for a bit.  It’s a pain having to time everything yourself.

And I quit smoking again.  I love to smoke, I really do, but I don’t need it anymore.  My stress is long gone and I’m relatively happy these days.

I’m just really tired.  It might be from the leftover Chinese food I had for breakfast, or the turkey sandwich for lunch.

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