Category Archives: All about me

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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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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My new and improved life, well, sort of…

I had a client queef on my table today. I haven’t heard one of those in a while. They make me smile. They make me smile especially when they come out of an intimidating, sporty, type A woman who could crush me with her big toe. A dainty splutter erupted from under the sheets.

“What? Did you say something?”

Okay, so I didn’t actually say that.

You know how hard it is to relax a woman like that? Take it from me, it’s pretty damn hard.

I’ve been working a lot lately. I mean really working. This is the first time in my life where I actually have money – the kind of money that replenishes itself within hours – HOURS!

I work everyday from 11am to 8:30pm. I get home at 9pm and eat like a bulldozer whatever my mom makes, play a little Skyrim and hit the hay only to do it all over again the next day.

It’s so different from anything I’ve ever experienced. I’m working like a dog and yet feel completely full of life and energy. Like what I’m doing is actually accomplishing something, not just for the client, but for me as well. That’s what been missing this whole time working for others – the ME component.

I will never go back. Will never go back to those long unappreciated hours with little pay – no where to move up or get ahead, constant worry over hours cut and poor performance reviews, shitty co-workers….

The only regret I have is not doing it sooner. I’m kicking myself for not doing it sooner. The water is surely warmer on this side, grass is definitely greener. I crossed over into a new level of awakening.

Lets talk about how many massages I gave in these past 15 days. 73. I massaged 73 people in 15 days. 55 of them were groupons and the rest were repeat clients. I had one day off and that was last Sunday. Me and my friend installed curtains in my office and went out to eat thai food. Well, she installed the curtains while I stood there passing her tools like she was a surgeon.

“You want the what what?”

“The screwdriver.”

“Where is it? I just had the damn thing where’d it go? This makes no sense.”

As for picking out the curtains, I was clueless at that too.

“Lisa I’m so confused.”

She laughed at me when she spotted me holding a box of curtains in Target. I looked scared and confused.

Lisa – “That’s why I wanted to come. I’m good at this stuff.”

She looked at me and started laughing again.

Lisa – “You have to wipe your face. You have that milkshake stuff all around your mouth.”

Me – “Oh shit do I?”

I smear it in more with the palm of my hand.

Lisa – “It looked like something else ha ha.”

So all in all, I’m clueless about most everything including remnants left on my face. I can’t take care of myself, not that I don’t know how, I just don’t care to – there are more important things to do. I had to feed myself for two days in a row after coming home from 10 hour days. The first night of having to cook for myself, my parents went to the casino and I salvaged edamame and chocolate chip cookies for dinner – which were fine.

The second night however, is not so fine. My mother had to go to the hospital for pneumonia (she’s fine) so she couldn’t cook me dinner, and what I ended up feeding myself made me want to puke. I made myself Campbell’s tomato soup and then ate a huge bowl of homemade pickled beets (garden fresh!). I could not, NOT stop eating the pickled beets. They were so good and wholesome, but man oh man. A bushel of pickled beets and a bowl of canned tomato soup do not mix.

I only massaged four clients today. Now I’m sitting here on my little storage benches.

They remind me of the raft Tom Hanks built in Joe Vs the Volcano.

He tied four water-tight highly expensive leather suitcases together and had just about all he needed inside his little suitcase raft. Now here I am sitting on my little raft in my office with all I’ll ever need in life.

I love that movie, I can relate it to anything. And I like the idea of being alone in the middle of nowhere. I always liked that idea, not sure why.

A friend is swinging by a little later for some fun times. Life is good. Super good. And guess what else? I’m typing to you on my very new MacBook Air – yes you heard correct. I finally got one. It’s an 11 inch, 2.5 pound Mac. Perfect for traveling great distances on foot. I bought a handmade leather case to store it in. It looks like an old discarded book on the outside, but on the inside there’s a flourish of high tech wizardry at play.

The next day…

I’m sitting on my benches at the office again. Waiting for a client to show. Last night was weird. I hung out with Amy and it was the first night in a long time where I didn’t have Dave by my side at the bar. Amy and I were both bombarded with strangers buying us drinks and talking nonsense to us.

I’m not in the happy mood I was in yesterday. People are crazy basically and I swear I’ll never understand them.

I have a tendency to connect with everyone. I know that contradicts my last statement, but I can always find something in anyone no matter who it is, something I can appreciate and connect with. I sort of see the potential in people. I do this for survival purposes. If I don’t connect, people – everyone and anyone can frustrate and annoy the hell out of me. And I DO mean everyone. I become grouchy and make lewd inappropriate comments and poke fun at unfortunate people.

I’m a girl with two opposing sides. It’s a toss of a coin with me. I can be miserable and miserly, or I can be joyful and pleasant – I choose to be pleasant but in order for me to do that, I have to connect. It’s the only way.

Reaching for a connection is exhausting. The more I have to reach for it, the more exhausting it becomes. That’s why I treasure my alone time.

My best friend, Dave, he’s a character. I despise him as a man – a nasty, dirty despicable man. He uses women and has no conscious when doing so. His last girlfriend, Heather, gave him everything and all he did was use her for sex and a place to stay. He also taken advantage of an emotionally/physically crippled girl, and now he’s banging a married chick.

I taken him to Vermont to stay at a friends cottage (this friend doesn’t invite ANYONE to her cottage), and Dave forced her into things she didn’t want to do (not sexual stuff). He shows no respect for anyone and most people hate him.

My problem is that I can find good in everyone and overlook their faults entirely. I refrain from all judgement unless it gets personal and hits close to home. I can connect with a toothless heroin addict truck driver (like I did last night) as long as I know he won’t interfere in my personal life.

Dave made it personal this time. He tries to do things to make me jealous, which invariably never work. He wanted to get Amy in bed with him but she has absolutely no desire and not only that, respects me too much to sleep with my exboyfriend. Amy’s awesome.

Anyway, what Dave did to really piss me off was that he slept with one of my friends while I was in the house. Again I have to say, not jealous. I could’ve went into her room and seduced her myself, or could have went into Dave’s room to seduce him – but no, I’m not like that. Not with friends anyway.

He showed no respect for me. Complete annihilation of respect.

During my awakening I understood that respect is a highly valuable quality to have for emotional and spiritual development. I do my best to honor others with my best intentions. When people don’t do the same for me, it’s hurtful and disrespectful.

My morals are my most prized assets. And I see how rare they are since no one else seems to have any.

People are fucked up and gross. After Dave did that, I not only lost faith him, but in everyone. EVERYONE will hurt me. Its inevitable. People will talk shit about me and I’ll have nobody there to defend me, people will leave me stranded on a mountain in a third world country, guys fuck everything, everyone lies, everyone’s manipulative and out for themselves – EVERYONE.

This thought lingered for quite some time and made me sick to my stomach. I started having chest pains and couldn’t breathe. I’m a martyr. During my enlightenment, Aya told me that I played the part of a martyr. That I give permission to people to take out all their self inflicted torment onto me and I take it all and allow it in order for them to see, but in the process, I get destroyed. It’s part of my path, but I was also told that I still have free will and the choice to end my suffering. But in order to fully end it, I have to let go of all the bad influences in my life. All the people who hurt me, I have to let them go. But now after what Dave did, it felt like there’s no one left. It’s in everyone to do this. Everyone’s heart is cold.

I know I’m a coin. But I can choose which side to land on most of the time. I’m happy because I choose to be happy. I’m good because I choose to be good. If I let the world get to me in this bad way, it’s a fertilized ground for evil. Fear is evil. Fear is lack of understanding and void of compassion. It’s complete misery and I’m sure its the place where people learn how to do all these dastardly things to each other.

I may be jaded, but I’ll never let myself fall. So long as I have the will to write, I can never fall.

I’m not mad at my friend who slept with him, well I was, but I can’t be mad at her because I accepted a long time ago who she was and this is part of who she is. I can’t judge, and I know she didn’t do it to hurt me. But Dave on the other hand, he did it to hurt me. The fact that he used one of my friends as a slab of meat to get at me makes me so sick.

Even if he didn’t do it to hurt me, and just did it for sex, I wish he picked a different girl to do it with. My friend has shit luck with guys and gets used all the time thinking that maybe they like her, but these guys never stick around. And Dave, who openly admits he doesn’t want a chick with kids, is getting off with my friend who has one.

There’s only so much I can tolerate from a person before that connection fades and they’re left with snappy, miserable Melanie who gets easily annoyed by their stupidity. When I lose that connection, I’m a completely different person.

My client is coming in 13 minutes. Blogging is making me less attracted to my job. An entire week went by without me knowing it and here my blog sits on the shelf, whispering in my ear telling me, “hey, I’m here, I’ll always be here. Take a moment when you’re ready and we will figure this shit out. Together.” And sure enough, my week just slowed down big time and came together.

Massaging people over and over again is like saying the same word over and over. It loses all meaning and all you hear are sounds. You see the word for what it really is, just noises coming out of your mouth. Not even sounds, but noises. The smooth tongue action it takes to form the word becomes aware of itself and freezes in your mouth forgetting its job and what to do.

When I massage over and over, all I see is skin. The same color skin on the same body, different body part, same skin. My hands gliding, feeling warm and soft. Covering over more skin, more body parts. Silk everywhere I touch. My movements become a painting on the wall. Dripping paint. Moving, but still.

I was massaging someone the other day, forgot who it was, and I was contemplating this – what I think about while doing my job is some weird shit. My mind became blank and I hit zen. Zen is not enlightenment or awakening, it’s absence of thought. It’s blankness.

“What am I doing exactly? Oh yeah, right.”

Six minutes until my client. I have two more. They both booked themselves online so I’m not sure if they are Groupon people are what.

I ran into my brothers fiance today at the mall and I told her I did 75 massages in the past two weeks. She laughed and said I’m crazy.

Melissa – “Why don’t you space them out?”

Me – “I just want to get them done and over with. The faster I get them done the better.”

She laughs again.

Melissa – “You’re funny.”

Anyway, last night at the bar, I was connecting with some really messed up people. I can have fun anywhere you put me and I will find amusement and new friends. I was with Amy and I think I scared her a little with my mingling. You are who you hang with, right? If you hang around dogs, you’re bound to get flea’s.

So it’s either be in a pissy mood all the time wanting to punch people, or connect with everyone and be looked at as a ……oh I think my client is here.

This post will never be finished…..sigh.

Okay I’m back home in my jammies. So tired. It feels so good to lay here and zone.

Stare

Blink

Stare

I think my last client had an orgasm on the table. I was massaging her and she started moaning and it progressively gotten louder and faster – I shit you not she was saying stuff like “Ohh yeah, yeah.” And then her moans ended and she fell silent and peaceful. True story. I was jealous. People who can experience pure ecstasy like that without drugs, god bless them.

I massaged a young woman the other day and afterwards she asks me, “Are you trained at massaging transgender?”

I had to think about it. The way she worded it made me think I needed extra training for it. But why? I’m not massaging the sex parts.

“Um, well yeah. We all have the same bodies, don’t we?”

She smiled at me and said, “Oh good. I just thought I should ask because some people have problems with it.”

Me – “No not me. I’m open-minded and nonjudgmental. This is a safe environment.”

And then I had a guy that came in and plopped down on my Joe Vs Volcano Benches and started sobbing away.

Man – “My job is horrible, I have a lousy marriage. I’m in a bad hopeless place and need something, you know? Something that would help me. I read your website and it sounds like you can help me. I can only go to the bar so much, you know?”

He was an older fellow, early 50’s I’d say. Rather fluffy and unattractive. My heart went out to the poor guy. Starting over for him would be a great challenge – starting over for me on the other hand is cake since I never really started anything.

I told him some deep profound insights into the meaning of life (I forgot exactly what I said) and his eyes and ears perked up.

Him – “You give talking therapy too?”

Me – “Ha, no. I’m not certified for that, but talking is absolutely therapeutic.”

He loved his massage and couldn’t stop thanking me. I saw him again the following week and I’m seeing him again in a few days.

People are strangely beautiful if you get past everything else and let them into your heart.

Whatever negative vibe they give off, or if they seem rough around the edges, don’t mirror it back to them. If you treat them the same way they treat you, its just going to feed into their already deteriorating faith in humanity. It perpetuates the cycle and spreads it to others.

So I guess in my small way, I do help people. And it’s very rewarding.

I’m zonked. It’s 11 pm, my new bedtime. I need to unwind and stop writing. I really REALLY hope I can sleep after writing this post. I haven’t written anything in a while, so this has gotten my mind a little straighter and lighter but now it wants to stay up and let out more. Purge! Purging is great when it’s not the contents of my stomach.

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Vermont

I was at my poorest about 10 days ago.  My car broke down, bills were due, rent was due and I had zero dollars.

So what do I do?  I contacted a Groupon sales rep and together him and I decided that I should sell 400 massage coupons.  Yes, you heard correctly – 400 massage coupons!  There goes my life for the next several weeks.  My money problems will be no longer, but now I actually have to work like a human being.  I have to get up everyday and go to the office and actually work.

My brain is not functioning.  I’m freaking out a bit and feel that I have so much to do – so much!  My room is a mess, I havent showered in days, I’m still beat up from labor day weekend even though today is Wednesday.

I have clients calling me that I need to call back and Groupon hasn’t even started yet.

I have to buy more lotion, sheets, face cradle covers – get an hourly day planner instead of the monthly one I have now.  So much to do…

I have to get out of bed and shower.  Yes, that’s a good start.  I’m in trouble arent’ I?

Anyway, I went to Vermont with Amy and Dave this past weekend.  It was awesome.  Dave and I taken his motorcycle for the leisurely four-hour ride.  It was gorgeous.  Amy’s log cabin is brand spanking new.  It’s made out of pine logs and it still smells like fresh cut pine.

I can’t write, I have too much to do and I can’t focus.  I made a YouTube video of Vermont – that should sum up the trip.

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A little about myself

A late 1990's, 60 minute Memorex dBS cassette ...

A late 1990’s, 60 minute Memorex dBS cassette tape with the top cover removed, showing & labeling the insides of the cassette tape. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A telemarketer called me the other day while I was playing spider solitaire at the office.  She had a southern twang and sounded so sweet on the phone. 

Telemarketer – “Now I’m new at this, so I hope I do it right and tell you everything I’m supposed to tell you.”

Me – “Okay, you’re doin’ great.”

I stayed on the phone and listened to her schpiel.  I had nothing better to do.  I wanted to give her practice and confidence (I’m a weirdo like that).

Telemarketer – “How old are you if you don’t mind my asking?”

I had to think about it for a few seconds.  How old am I?  Oh right…but why is she asking?  Oh yeah, I sound naive and too young to afford her magazines.  Any moment she’s going to ask if my mother’s home.

Me – “32”

Telemarketer – “Oh WOW, really?  I’m right there with you girl but you don’t sound it.  You don’t sound a day over 21.”

Me – “Eh, thanks….”

She was being kind, but my voice and the way I come off to others is one of the things I hate about myself.  It’s one reason why I hate talking on the phone.

I have a loving, kind way about me.  I listen to others and care about them – I don’t even have to know them, but I still care about them.  It’s probably because of naivete or innocence, I don’t freakin’ know.  But nothing about it is fake.  There’s nothing artificial about me, maybe that’s considered naive.  Having a young voice doesn’t help.

Perhaps people mistake kindness for ignorance.

I don’t like people thinking I’m innocent, but I can’t help it.  God help me.  No wonder why everyone worries about me.

I feel that people are more likely to get pissed at me more so than at others.  Maybe they consider me as someone who knows better and I have no good excuse for my behaviour because they very well know that I know I did wrong, but I did it anyway.  There’s no wiggle room.  Some people can get away with acting stupid because that’s in their nature, it’s who they are.  But as for me, nobody cuts me any slack. 

Assholes do asshole things.  Nice people doing asshole things are harder to accept and can really hurt others.

I once worked with a slow-minded woman at Stop & Shop.  She was a bagger and I was a cashier.  I felt for her.  She was a bit defensive and ornery, but she had a heart and feelings.  She was working with a bunch of young high school brats who cracked jokes at her, so of course she’d be pissy.

One night at the age of 16 – an age where there’s not many fun activities to do at night, me and my co-workers went over to her house.  We were already in the neighborhood and thought it be nice to pay her a visit.  It felt wrong in my guts and I knew she would take it the wrong way.  If it was just me and my friend that came to visit, it would’ve been okay (she would have been elated!), but instead we brought along three jerky co-workers with us who just wanted to go see the “freak.”

I was against the visit in the first place.  I hung back in the shadows outside while the boys laughed and talked with her from her bedroom window.  I felt like the scum of the earth.  Her sister had to come out and tell us all to leave.

And she WAS pissed.  She forgave everyone except me – the one who stuck up for her and actually cared about her, I was the one she no longer spoke to.

She died in a horrible accident years later.  I never forgave myself for that night at her house.  I did know better. 

If you have two children with a significant age gap, it’s always the older one who gets in trouble, gets the blame.  The little one didn’t know any better.  Well, I’m always considered the older one – not in maturity (heaven knows I’m not mature), but in a different way.  Like, when it comes to matters of the heart.  A wise, caring understanding of people maybe?  When someone like me judges another person, says harsh things to them, it’s felt way more than when your everyday asshole says it.

And when people think I withdrawn my caring, understanding attention, they get spiteful.  It happened with Kristie, and sometimes with Dave (although he loves me too much to ever be rid of me).  It happens with Matt and just about everyone else I ever met.  It never happened with my really good friends though.

It happened with K in Nepal when I told her I didn’t want to hike with her anymore (its a really long story and you can read about it here), and I’m still getting punished for it.

Sometimes I get tired and need a break from everyone.  I have my own problems to deal with.

Telemarketer – “Are you married?  Do you have kids?”

I’m sure that a lot of people would’ve answered that question with a “What business of that is yours?”  Especially when it’s being asked by a complete stranger calling you up trying to sell stuff you don’t need.

But me on the other hand, that thought never entered my mind.

Me – “Ha ha, no.”

Telemarketer – “Oh now that could be why you sound so young.  I only wish I sounded like you.”

Another thing is, I have a tendency to love people in a non-sexual way.  I’m learning that most everybody takes my love in the wrong direction.  I have no ulterior motives or intentions when it comes to others, but they take my attention as being more than it is.  I feel hurt by this and think that the only reason guys stay friends with me is in hopes that one day we can do it.

I have a way with people. 

I was very sensitive, contemplative and reflective as a child – all the ingredients needed to be teased and pushed around.

In all my wonderings and ruminations, I realized at a very young age that all anyone ever wants is to be loved and feel connected to others.  All their actions, every single thing they do is done with the unknowing intent of gaining love and acceptance.  I forgave everybody and learned to accept people.  It opened my heart and changed me.  I guess maybe that’s where my wisdom came from.

I have the knowledge that all anybody wants is love.  I give people that love and connection.  Especially when they have none in their lives.  It’s easy for me to read people like this, and I know that what I give them is important to them.  So when it feels like I’m becoming distant, I get the proverbial shit kicked out of me.

It’s funny how I take the time to understand and connect with others, but instead of them wanting to connect back, they only want to screw me.  Male friendships are very complicated.  However, female friendships aren’t much easier.  At least I know what guys want.  Both sexes get equally fed up with me.

Should I just stop caring about people?  Is that how everyone loses their innocence?

I wish I kept all this crap in a private journal.  Nobody cares about what goes on in my head and writing a blog is pompous in that way. 

I stopped telling people about my blog a long time ago.  Writing a blog doesn’t make me special.  It makes me vulnerable.  I keep wanting to stop, but I can’t.  I feel like if I let too much slip by, everything becomes meaningless.  My life becomes empty when I have nothing of substance to look back on and learn from.  It’s like having a blank cassette tape with no music recorded.  And I love making Melanie Mega Mixes.

I’m sweaty, tired and have on no pants.  This laptop is really hot.  I’m thirsty.  This whole post started from one simple telemarketing call.  I can’t stop my brain!  I write a lot more than I publish, mostly everything I write is still a draft. 

I can’t wait to take some of those Columbian drugs.  My brothers fiancé know’s a girl from Columbia.  I told her where I’m going (upper regions of the Amazon in Putumayo and the valley of Sibundoy) and she replies back saying that it’s one of the most dangerous places in Columbia and she would NEVER under any circumstance go there. 

I wasn’t scared before, but now I’m a bit worried. 

I stereotype people – I love them, but still stereotype them.  An old man yesterday gave me a $20 tip all paid in half dollars for example.  Old men love change.  Who the hell carries around $20 worth of half dollars in their pocket other than old men?  Well, I do now apparently….

But anyway, I don’t have any stereotypes to assign people from Columbia.  These are the times when I don’t mind being blissfully ignorant – I don’t get scared.  The only thing I can connect Columbia with is the old 1980’s movie, Jewel of the Nile with what’s his face and sexy voice lady (forgot their names).  Colombians are comical ruffians who love romance novels, they call their vehicles Little Mules and throw enemies into crocodile pits.  I don’t have much to go on.

No wonder why people worry about me.

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Filed under All about me, journal, random thoughts, Self help, Writing

Some Nightly Insomniac Gibber Jabber For You

I met Kristie and Ania out for a drink tonight. They have no idea what’s going on in my personal life, so I was able to leave it all behind and forget about it. Ania made me laugh so hard I wanted to kiss her. I love these girls.

We hopped on over to the Groggy Frog after having one drink at the Fireplace and met Matt, the bouncer from Billy O’s.

This guy:

Kristie called him up and wanted to see him.

For the first half of the night, Kristie talked to Matt while Ania and I entertained each other. Matt bought Kristie 4 shots and got her hammered. She was so happy, having fun – everyone was having fun, me included! Then Jarred showed up, who is a highly entertaining fellow. We sang along to bad karaoke and danced.

Matt is into theater and for whatever reason we started talking about stage kissing. He showed me an example of how it’s done. But next thing I know, the guy’s lips were on mine. He pretended like he was going in for a stage kiss, but swiftly moved his thumb away at the very last moment.

The first time I met Matt, I made it perfectly clear that I didn’t want a relationship. And I made no signs of flirting tonight – I even kept away for Kristie’s sake since I thought she may have liked him, but there I was with the guys mouth pressed against mine. My little group of friends all stopped talking in mid-sentence to look over at us.

I gently shoved him away – “Okay, okay. Wow you’re smooth. You totally snuck a kiss.”

Matt – “So you’re saying I’m smooth? Is that a compliment?”

Me – “Yes you’re smooth, but I’m not looking for a relationship.”

Matt – “Oh I know I know you told me before. The first night I met you, you told me.”

Me – “Okay, well as long as you know. Sorry, I just have a lot going on right now.”

Then next thing I know, his lips were on mine again! He did the same stage kiss move he did last time and it worked yet again.

Seconds later Kristie says;

Kristie – “I’m going back to the fireplace.”

Me – “Oh shit. Why?”

Kristie – “Listen to this girl sing! I heard enough for one night.”

The girl singing was pretty bad. She was singing some slow song I never heard of before.

Her, Ania and Jarred went back to the Fireplace. Matt put in a song to sing and didn’t want to leave until he sang it. I didn’t want to be rude by leaving him, so I stayed and listened to him sing. He sang Brittany Spears, Hit me baby one more time, which in an odd way, reminded me of my ex-friends. I bolted out the lyrics with him.

By the end of the night he told me this;

Matt – “You know when I first met you, I felt that you were sad, like something was bothering you.”

Me – “Really? You could tell that?”

Matt – “Well, you told me something was bothering you.”

Me – “Oh, ha ha.”

Matt – “But I want to tell you something. I know how weird this may sound, and I don’t want to weird you out with a strange comment, I don’t want to offend you or anything like that..”

Me – “Lay it on me.”

Matt – “I feel bad saying this but seeing you as hurt as you were, actually made me feel good about myself.”

Me – “Yeah?”

Matt – “It’s just that I couldn’t understand how someone like you – someone so cool and chill and laid back – could let anything get to you. It made me feel good that even people like you have shit going on.”

He actually said these words to me. These were his exact words as acutely as I remember them.

Me – “Oh my god thank you Matt. In a weird way that’s just what I needed to hear. I AM laid back, and cool for the most part, but people make me feel like I’m crazy.”

Matt – “Oh no, you’re not crazy. Definitely not crazy.”

Then he tried doing his stage kiss trick again. I turned my face and felt guilty for it.

I feel like the Gods above are feeding me torn off pieces of bread. They’re watching me scramble for them before I starve to death. ‘Hang in there girl, you’ll be fine. You’re always fine. Here’s a good meaty chunk of Italian loaf.’

Matt is a big guy – huge in fact. He’s over six feet tall, has a belly proportionate to his big beefy frame. I wanted to sink into his arms and let him hold me. But I’m not that girl. I don’t do stuff like that.

His grandfather been given 48 hours to live. He’s hopping a plane tomorrow to Florida to see him.

Matt – “My Grandfather came to my high school once to pick me up. He saw me hugging a pretty girl and he was so proud of me after that. He couldn’t believe I was hugging such a pretty girl. He kept telling everyone about that story of how his grandson was caught hugging a beautiful girl. It went on for years he would tell people. And now here I am, with an even prettier girl. I can only imagine what my grandpa would say if he could see me here with you.”

Matt is the type of guy that girls don’t give a second glance at. Him being with me, and his appearance versus my appearance never entered my head until he said that to me about his Grandpa. I was wearing my once favorite blue jeans that now hang off me like drapery, and a non-fitting skull and crossbones shirt I bought from Hot Topic. My hair stringy and uncombed. Not a lick of makeup. And this guy was comparing me to a pretty girl he once hugged in high school.

I never judge people on how they look because I don’t want them to do that with me. But everything Matt said to me, made me feel wonderful.

I am so supremely tired right now. I can not even begin to tell you the amount of exhaustion I feel. My eyes are so drained from tears shed earlier. My stomach empty without food, sinks in concave, protruding my hip bones as I lay here in bed. My wrists are so thin. So fragile am I (I haven’t eaten in two days). Matt feels like a big burly wall of warmth and love. A big wall of protection from everything – even myself.

I can love so easily. So freely. I can see myself with him. Going out every night, being treated like a princess. But I don’t let myself cave in. Not with anyone. I wouldn’t wish a relationship with me on to anyone. I’m damaged goods and would only ruin him. I would crush him completely with my brutal noncommittal aloofness.

I ruin everything I touch. Everyone who’s ever cared about me, I end up hurting. What’s happening with me and my friends is all my fault. I’m the one who doesn’t call people back if I feel the slightest discomfort. I’m the one who didn’t want to speak to them again until just recently. I wrote a lot of shit in my blog about them, but really the blame is all on me. But I can’t change the way I feel. They cut me deep and don’t understand how or why, while to me, the reasons are blatantly obvious. It’s sad and frustrating. I just want to know why. I want to know the reason why they don’t like me after so many years of friendship.

I can run my mouth up and down china town telling you guys how much I wasn’t flirting with Matt, but my love emanates to everyone and anything surrounding my vicinity. I care for others and that care is what gets me into trouble. I am once again damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

I want to kidnap myself and hold me up for ransom in some foreign land. I’ll ask for $1,000,000 USD from the American embassy or else I’ll never be seen or heard from again. Or maybe I can just skip the first part, and instead just leave. Never to come back.

It’s scary to think that way – to never come back.

I met a guy the other day at Jersey Joe’s. An older African American fellow – loud, friendly and boisterous. We talked for a bit and out of nowhere he tells me that he has a feeling he’s never going to see me again. This is scary to hear. First off, when people tell me this, it’s ALWAYS true! Gobinda, the guy from Nepal, said he had a feeling we weren’t going to meet for dinner.

Gobinda – “I feel you won’t be there. You won’t be at dinner. I know. I know.”

He said this with a shy smile as he kept rubbing the sweat off his forehead, squinting in the sun. I strangely knew he was right, even though I had my fullest intent on meeting him for dinner. At the time he asked me, I was still excommunicated from my travel group and needed a friendly face to comfort me.

Then there was a guy I used to work with at J. Timothy’s when I was 22. We went out, kissed a little, and I pulled away from him on the dance floor. We were dancing and for whatever reason he tells me, “I have the feeling that I’m never going to see you again. If you walk away from me right now, I won’t ever see you again.” It was weird to hear that, but I felt it was true. It was especially weird since he was my ride home and we worked at the same restaurant. But he was right. I walked away from him on the dance floor and never seen or spoken to him since.

It happened a few more times, and each time was right.

But this guy is different, the one at Jersey Joe’s. I see him sometime’s at Happy Tuesday and I go to Jersey Joe’s a few times a month – he’s always around. I always bump into him. For him to say that he’ll never see me again makes me feel like something bad is going to happen to me. Because of him, I’m not going on my pilgrimage to Spain until I see him again. I’m going to break the curse.

Holy good lord I’m so tired. Shit.

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Filed under All about me, journal

You want my life online? You fucking got it!

Here’s a letter I wrote a few days ago to an ex-friend.  I’m posting it online because I’m sure by now it already made its way around my circle of friends, so concealing it would be humiliating.  Why shouldn’t my loyal 48 blog followers also be privy to hear it?  They’re subscribers to my life online afterall!

      *******************                                          *******************                        *******************                   ***************

Hey Holly how’s it going? I need to write you a letter because I do better in explaining myself in a letter than I do in person.

First, I want to address the Kristina situation. What’s going on between us is between her and me and has nothing to do with you. I don’t want to gossip about her behind her back or talk shit about her. I don’t want to try to win you over by putting her down. That was never my intention. I don’t want to say anything more about her. I didn’t want to talk about her yesterday with you because I didn’t want you to think negatively of her because of me. Although you don’t see it, she doesn’t like me. That’s all I’ll say about that. You don’t have to believe me.

All I can tell you is that she tells bold faced lies and twists the truth. I can tell you that because I said it to her already.

As far as me being upset with you goes, I was upset that you didn’t offer me any support or understanding for what I went through in Nepal. I was hoping you wouldn’t pick a side and just feel for what I went through but instead I felt that you stopped wanting to see me and you put all your focus on being with Kristina. I tried to hang out with the both of you on several occasions, but it wasn’t happening.

You will never understand the hurt I felt from this because you and I live in different worlds. Your world includes having a loving supporting family. You have an awesome sister who will always be there for you and you’ll never have to be alone in your house or have to worry about people avoiding you in your own home. I have a loving family too, but it’s a lot more difficult for me here. It’s hard because I’m always alone in my room. I feel like I have nobody. No stable emotional support, no one here to talk with. My thinking is different from yours because my world is different. I’m not complaining, but just trying to explain myself and why I am who I am and feel the way I do.

The past few years have been hard on me because I felt that you were distancing yourself and saw me as being a needy helpless friend. And no matter how much I tried diffusing that belief, it always lingered in your head.

You used to invite me out with you everywhere you went. I met a lot of your family members, felt apart of your home.

I saw Becky, Becca and Delilah regularly and used to go out to eat with them and been to all their houses, but that all stopped suddenly and you never told me why. I thought they were my friends too. You hate when I bring this up because it’s an example of me being helpless and needy (and annoying), but I really liked those girls. And you really DID invite me out with them all the time in the past. I went to Delilah’s wedding and even Becca’s graduation party! And I came to visit you and Steph a lot at CCSU. Doesn’t all that make me friends with them also? Can you at least tell me what I did wrong? No matter how hurtful it sounds, I would rather hear it than not. Maybe I can improve myself? Or get a second chance?

It hurt knowing that they weren’t in my life anymore. I don’t know why I wasn’t welcomed with them, but I kept telling myself that whatever the reason, I’m sure it’s a good one that has nothing to do with me. But I still always felt excluded and hurt, regardless. I couldn’t help feeling that way even though it’s irrational, I still felt it. You will never understand this feeling (because of our different worlds).

Nothing has been the same after our fight a few years ago. During that fight, it felt like you and Kristina ganged up on me. I have paranoia about being ganged up on because it happened to me when I was a kid. I had a very lonely, isolated childhood. That’s why I put so much trust and love into my friendships. They always meant a great deal to me. I gained all my strength, love and confidence from them and maybe loved people back a little too much because I never had that when I was a kid.

My feelings about being ganged up on may have been irrational because it being a deep-seated phobia and all. And I understand that that fight was completely my doing. But it really did feel like I was ganged up on. I was crying my eyes out trying to tell my side of things, but Kristina yelled at me and you took her side and yelled right back without ever listening to me. You heard Kristina yelling at me and automatically assumed it was my fault. You probably don‘t remember that, but I do. Living in my world, you remember all the hurts more than anything.

I was completely alone and nobody wanted to be with me. Feeling the darkness and isolation was overwhelming. It was palpable. It literally felt like the seventh circle of hell, which doesn’t involve flames or any of that nonsense, just emptiness. I felt my heart was physically breaking – I mean I really physically felt it! It was the worst time of my life. Even worse than Nepal and worse than now. It’s a place more than it is a feeling. You’re luckily you never had to experience it. It changes you. It’s the opposite of hope and the absence of love. I hope to Jesus you never experience it.

I said no to Brie’s baby shower because of the whole ganging up phobia I have. It may be completely illogical, I know this. I don’t mean to come off as sounding like a dramatic crybaby whiner who cares nothing for Brie, but honestly, my phobia is something I would not wish upon anyone. It’s really that bad.

I love Brie and care about her feelings a great deal. It’s supposed to be her day and not Melanie’s crying day – I don’t want to bring everyone down and embarrass myself. I’m willing to go to Brie’s baby shower as long as you or Kristina don’t bring any of this up. I don’t want to burst into a crying fit if the two of you side against me. And I WILL cry if that happens.

Anyway, I’ve been deteriorating a little bit each day for years. Some of it because of Kristina making me feel like I’m nothing, and some of it from you excluding me from your life (don‘t get weird and defensive and strongly unapologetic which often is the case with you when I say stuff like this). Every time I felt I was being excluded, I would think to myself that I was being ridiculous and it was all in my head. I was driving myself crazy by not confronting these feelings as having any merit. I thought they were my own issues that I had to overcome. And I DO have issues, don’t get me wrong, but I also know that I would never and HAVE never excluded you from my life or any of the people in it – I tried to tie everyone in so I wouldn‘t have to bounce around to everyone and spreading myself too thin. Plus I hate excluding people. But you were doing it to me repeatedly.

I stopped feeling comfortable around you, like I was not the person you wanted to be with and you were only settling for me. I stopped being my happy self around you. But someone like you wouldn’t notice that. You never felt like I did, so you don’t know what it’s like. I can’t blame you for that.

I need to stop doubting my emotions as being irrational and inconsequential. And I shouldn’t feel ashamed and afraid to tell you my feelings. Confiding in you always made me feel very ashamed afterwards.

I respect everyone’s space and I don’t ask for much and certainly don’t want to hang out with the same person every single day – I never have. I don’t feel the need to know what you’re doing at every moment – I’m not that kind of person. I was never that kind of person. I’m forgiving and understanding and listen to others, but all my rational mind could tell me was that I really WAS being excluded, not welcomed. No matter how I sliced it, I was not wanted.

Anyway….

Hold on, I have more.

I get upset when you wait until the next day to invite me to your house on a holiday. You always ask me what I did, and after I tell you, you feel bad and say, “oh well you could’ve came over.” You did this a few times to me. You probably don’t remember saying it because of the different worlds we live in, but inviting me the day after really hurts. It makes me feel like an after-thought. This last time I expected it to happen, so I was okay with it. But I thought I should share this with you anyway since I’m already telling you everything.

Once I get going it’s hard to stop – sorry bout that.

None of this is meant to hurt you, although I’m sure you’re not hurt and you’re just fine and this is just a pointless gibberish ramble by someone you don’t give a fuck for. But I like to write, and I DO have a point! My point to this letter is to tell you that I can’t go on like this. The point of this letter is an explanation that you rightfully deserve to hear – I owe you that. We have too many years and memories with each other for me to slack off and not tell you how I feel about everything.

I decided that it’s best for me not to associate myself with Kristina anymore. I won’t discuss the reasons with you because you can form your own opinions of people and don‘t need any help from me. I won’t try to convince you to see my perspective. And when I was being gut-wrenchingly honest in the Nepal post, laying it all out on the table, well, that didn’t go over too well with you. Therefore, explaining is redundant and I’ll end up sounding mean again and you’ll inevitably take her side, so fuck explaining – it’s useless.

I also don’t want you to be in the middle of this and to be tossed around like ping-pong. You made it very clear to me last night and it was never my intention to make you feel that way. I wanted to avoid it at all costs. I always consider your feelings. I feel like you think I’m too negative and selfish to take your feelings into consideration. When did this happen? I feel like you don’t know me anymore. You see only the bad in me. And assume the worse of me.

So what I’m trying to say is that I think we should cool it for a while. Just go our separate ways for now. It’s the best thing for both of us. I can’t keep sacrificing myself and sticking this out just to avoid hurting your feelings. I’m the one who ends up getting hurt. I hurt until I’m drained of all my good stuff and I have nothing left for anybody. And nothing left for myself to make me feel any shred of happiness.

I know that if I remain friends with you, all of these problems will go up by 500 percent now that Kristina and I aren’t speaking. I wouldn‘t be able to handle that. I know what I can handle, and I can take a lot, but that would be tremendously difficult for me.

I’ll still always be here for you if you’re ever in a jam. I won’t be gone completely. I’ll always consider you a good friend. I’m sorry I sent that text message telling you to defriend me on facebook. I still want you to defriend me, but it’s for the selfish reason of not wanting to be reminded of you. I have to let you go – its hard to do what I’m doing – REALLY hard! And seeing you on facebook will only make it harder. You can still read my blog if you want to. I shouldn’t have told you not to. I was upset that I wouldn’t be able to know what you’re up to in life, but you would still have access to mine and therefore wouldn’t miss me at all. It doesn’t seem fair, but its my fault for writing the friggin’ thing.

God how I hate my honesty. It fucking sucks being me.

Its sucks being me, but I also feel like I’m a fucking awesome person.

I feel different from everyone else and that totally may be from my narcissism, or maybe I love myself too much, but I think I’m freaking spectacular – so spectacular that I can admit when I’m wrong, I know I have problems. I’m not perfect and never will be but I love my ability to love others, to feel guilt and empathy. I even like my ability to hurt! It shows that I’m human and I care. I love my capacity to overcome anything and still remain intact. I’m fucking awesome and I deserve the best of everything. I deserve to be around people who love and accept me. They’re surprisingly not hard to find.

And I’m sorry for all the mean texts I sent you. They weren’t intended to be mean, but if you interpreted them as mean, than I’m sorry. I was at my breaking point and maybe wanted to hurt you like you hurt me.

This letter is NOT to be misinterpreted as a cry for help. I’m only writing it to convey my feelings – I don’t want anything from you in return. The way I see it is that you think I’m needy and starved for attention and this is my way to guilt trip you. Don’t think that! It will ruin my letter if you think that. And the whole point will be lost.

I’m sincerely not doing this to get a reaction, or attention. I’m not doing this to hurt you, although saying that phrase, “I’m not doing this to hurt you” is hurtful in itself, at least for me it is.

 I just want to get back to being my old happy self and I can’t do that with Kristina in my life. Honestly, I have no choice – I have to do this. I have to let you go. I don’t want to be blamed for you ping-ponging back and forth between us. I don’t want to stress you out anymore than I already have. I don’t want to feel excluded anymore, or that I’m an annoying hindrance, or looked down at like I’m some crazy emotional asshole – all things I feel when I’m around you and Kristina.

I’m planning to go on a trek to Spain called the Camino De Santiago. I’ll be gone for a while, but hopefully I can still blog everyday while I’m there. I need to collect my head and find myself again. Perhaps when I come back we can try being friends again, but don’t be upset if I won’t be ready. I’ll know when I’m ready. I have to wait until my heart grows back stronger than ever, you know? As for Kristina, I will NEVER be ready to be friends with her again. I have no desire to ever go through that again.

I’m really glad I got to see you yesterday. I was so scared that you would hear I was going to be there and not want to come out, so I’m relieved you came. I won’t have a problem if I see you in those instances, unless you bring Kristina, than I’m out.

Wow, this is a long freaking letter. I cried through half of it and now I’m exhausted. I didn’t finish my sandwich dammit. I’m supposed to go out but I really don’t feel like it. But I should go out. I need to drink after writing this freak show.

I hope you’re having fun at Dan’s birthday. I feel bad about not going but, you know how it is. I hope Dave and Dan are having a good time.

All while writing this letter I kept imagining you copying and pasting it to everyone and saying, “See? Isn’t she mental? Doesn’t she need help? What do you think, Kristina?” Thinking you would actually do that is very upsetting. It’s yet another reason why I need a break from you. Maybe not from you, but the thoughts I have against you. I need to escape the thoughts I have about you to let the love and trust back in. Because right now it’s very hard. But maybe the thoughts I have about you are true! That’s the saddest part. It makes me lose all faith in people.

But the strange part is, you can totally show Kristina! I don’t give a shit anymore and its liberating! But I should give a shit in order for us to have a friendship again, right?

No wait, fuck it. I WANT Kristina to read it! Copy and paste it to her and Stephanie, Lisa and Brie, let Tara read it (of course Tara, she’s your sister!). Why shouldn’t they be included? I mean, it IS my own personal bleeding heart pouring out to everyone after all. Anyone who ever mattered to me should read it. They deserve to know the real me, don’t they?

Besides, it’s just me. I don’t matter much.

If you feel the need to call and talk about this, you can. I won’t ignore you. But if you really take the time to understand where I’m coming from and be forgiving of me, you’ll see that I have no choice but to do this.

Love always,

Melanie

P.s       (I wrote this last part of the letter after getting back from the bar.  I was inebriated and distraught.)

I’m glad I didn’t send this out yet. 

I’m really hoping you won’t show this letter to people, but in the back of my head I know that you will. That’s why I’m depressed. People are horrible and most of them can’t be trusted and it sucks that I unknowingly clumped you into that category.

If you have anything to say back at me, give me the respect I gave you and at least be honest. Call or write, or don’t respond at all. Whatever you do, just be honest. Call me an emotional crazy fuck face if you want to – but tell me WHY I’m a crazy emotional fuck face. You can swear at me and tell me you hate me, I’ll respect that.

If for some reason you want to punch me in my face, by all means do so – but tell me why and I’ll always forgive you and find understanding.

But give me a couple days before you respond (you don‘t have to respond, but just in case you do). I think I need to calm down first. I’m too exposed and vulnerable right now.

For our friendship to have even just the slightest chance of repairing, this is the way to do it – its the only way, really. To be honest with each other.

I care about you so freaking much Holly. I’ve known you when you were just a shy little girl, scared of going anywhere alone. I felt protective of you, and you to me. I watched you and your siblings grow up, watched Christian grow from an infant into a young man, you came to my dysfunctional family gatherings, my grandfathers funeral, and I always been by your side when you needed me. And now we’re getting older. Things are different.

People change, I know. But I miss the old friendship we had. I only had a handful of these types of friendships, but you and Steph were always the irreplaceable ones.

Saving our friendship by being honest also means telling you about all the good things I want to keep and all the stuff I miss.

I probably did something to cause the shift, and I tried repairing it but I was too late.

Anyway, I’m not ready to be your friend again. I need to take some time. I need to grow up a lot. And maybe after reading this, you’ll be the one who decides never to speak to me again. Who knows. The older I get, the less I know.

I remember last night you telling me that everything I’m mad about is a falsification. That I made everything up, or whatever, I forgot exactly what you said. And I know you fully believe that, but in my heart, what I felt was real. You shouldn’t have dismissed it like I made everything up.

I would never judge you for letting your angry feelings show towards someone. I would be right there with you having your back and getting angry myself. I would never point it out, or question your judgment. And by the way, yes! I WAS fucking mad at her! But what was your point in telling me that? Holly, you weren’t there! I wish you can imagine what its like to go through something like that only to come home to hear from your friend (best friend!) that what I did sounded angry and hateful. And you DID use the word hateful. You said I sounded hateful and angry. It broke me, it really did. I was hoping for a shoulder to cry on, but I got nothing. Absolutely nothing.

It’s bad enough not being close to you anymore, and feeling like your just-in-case-back-up friend, but then I had to hear something like that on a fucking text. Fucking texts I hate them! I really needed you when I got back, but you didn’t even care to see me. You went everywhere with Kristina and left me out. The both of you. How the fuck do you think that made me feel?? And then you said I was being angry and hateful? And I was there trying to hook up with the two of you, trying my best to make amends, but I still got the shaft and the cold shoulder from K.

You know she didn’t want to tell me about her troubles with Dan? She told everyone but me. She told everyone to keep it a secret. The only reason I found out was because I asked what was going on to show my concern. Lisa and Gina were both there to witness it. There was a very long awkward silence after I asked. So long was the silence that Lisa felt the need to say, “She wanted me to keep it a secret. She told us not to tell anyone. I‘m sorry.” But in the meantime, literally the entire bar knew what was happening before I did. Kristina was telling complete strangers about it. And the silence WAS long and awkward and I could feel it wasn’t any of my business and how dare I even talked to her. You can ask Lisa about that if you need proof which I‘m sure you do. And I know you’ll take Kristina’s word over mine. So fuck that shit. That’s not even the tip of the iceberg of how she treats me, that’s just a miniscule shitty example. But I told myself I wouldn’t talk shit about her and explanations are useless here. I don’t care if you believe me or not. No matter what I do, its never going to be good enough.

And because you will never understand how I feel right now, makes it another reason not to be friends with you. I don’t know if I can ever be friends with you again, or if you even care to want to be because honestly, I feel like you don‘t give a shit and I‘m working myself up over someone who’d gladly throw me under a bus if it meant saving herself, and if not herself, Kristina.

It all ties in with everything else. It ties in with you excluding me, Kristina hating me for no apparent reason, feeling like I embarrass people and no one wants me around. Even when I gave you a window for you to call, you still didn’t. I even apologized to you after Steph talked to me, but I got nothing back. You have no idea what its been like for me and I just can’t do it anymore. I give up, finally. You win. Kristina wins. You’ll never have to worry about me getting in your way again.

Shit, I need to sleep. I‘m tired and started crying all over again dammit. Its effing late and I don’t feel well. And I still haven’t eaten my sandwich! I’m surprised I’m not dead yet. Is my sandwich still good to eat? I think so.

Give me a few days before you respond back, that is if you respond back at all. I can’t handle it right now.

I already know you’re going to respond by saying I’m being ridiculous and telling fabrications, and that I sound hateful and angry and all that jazz. I know you won’t give me a reason why you stopped involving me with your friends. You will avoid that topic at all costs. That subject is taboo for you. You won’t be honest, only defensive, unapologetic and not understanding. You’ll tell me I need to see someone, take medication. I already know all this, so give me a few days to ready myself. You’ll find a way to say all that, only word it differently.

No more sandwich. Its gone.

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Okay, I’m going to just go ahead and lay it out for y’all

Blind Idiot God (album)

It’s 5:29 A.M and I can’t sleep.  Well, it’s not so much that I can’t sleep, but more like I’m not allowing myself to.  Instead my brain is wide awake forming unwritten blog posts.  Sentences streaming together spiraling into paragraphs, paragraphs expanding into troubling brews of insight and self-awareness that I find impossible bedding down for the night without getting it out of me first.  I MUST get it out.  Get it out of me like that movie where the alien pops out of the guys stomach.  It ain’t gonna be pretty.

I hear birds.  I’m so tired…..

I got myself good and depressed last Wednesday.  I started thinking about Nepal again and how I managed to botch things up with everyone.  K’s statement about me being an embarrassment to everyone was what mixed the pot of goop in my head.

“I’m an embarrassment……hmmm….how?  Why, why why….am I so lame….”

“Is it because I look weird?  Yes, but there’s got to be more to it than that.  My hideous laugh spotted with intermittent snorts?  That doesn’t help me in the cool department but no, that’s not it.  I am however, an idiot.  That could be it.  That’s most likely it.  I’m an idiot that doesn’t try at anything.  I don’t try to get people to like me, I don’t try saying smart things to people and I don’t feel special or interesting enough to talk about myself (I have my blog for that).  I don’t pretend I know what I’m doing, but not only that – I can be mean.  I can be mean by my lack of responding to others.”

My silence by not sharing myself, and by not putting any effort into anything I say or do, can make me come off as being aloof and indifferent (maybe that’s what makes me a puzzle to people!).  And this is what even my closest friends can see and came to believe about me.  They drive me crazy, but really it’s my fault – it really is!

That was my final answer.  That I’m a stupid, unresponsive goofy attention seeking needy child, too caught up in her own world of magnificence that she fails at responding to others and their needs.

And that explains why I’m best friends with this guy:

                                              He manages to love and adore the real me somehow.

“Okay, so I really am embarrassing to be around.  Now that I know why, how do I fix it?”

This was a damaging realization that sent me into a clichéd shame spiral.  So what did I do to appease the Gods of remorse?  I went to the bar with Dave, my crutch.  And drank beer, my other crutch.  I hobbled into Jersey Joe’s on my two crutches and played horseshoes outside feeling like I was a kid at a family picnic.  Swinging my horseshoe like Happy Gilmore swings his club.  But still the damage moped around my head.  I couldn’t let anyone see what I really was –  A stupid, unresponsive goofy attention seeking needy child – no, couldn’t allow that.  Not anymore.

Dave’s new girlfriend showed up at the bar.  This may sound un-girl-like of me, but I’m actually okay with Dave having girlfriends and bringing them around for me to meet.  Me and him are playmates, nothing more.  I felt that I could be hurt if I let myself sink into it, but I didn’t because, well, it’s Dave!  The man-boy who pants like a dog and wags his butt when he’s happy so he can come off as being cute with people – which works on me, sadly.

His new unofficial girlfriend brought her friend with her.  We all sat down at a table together and immediately Kristie (the GF) had her radar locked on me.  She was being overly friendly, talking a lot and vying for my approval – nothing she said seemed genuine or authentic (two things I started perfecting in myself when I turned 18).

I have experience with these types of people and most everyone has a bit of it in them, but then a Kristie comes along to make it nearly impossible for me to form any real substantial connection with her.  If I gave her the approval she was after, I’d only be encouraging her behaviour and in the process, I would be fake in return.  Being fake is something I chiseled away at for years.  I sculpted myself down to find my truth and hate it when people compromise it.  This is my meanness that I don’t try to hide.  My lack of empathy towards fakes.

I could never understand why people do this.  Torturing themselves just to win the approval from someone who doesn’t even matter that much – keeping everything real in them from escaping and then plastering me with laser-edged attention that I find unnerving and annoying.  Especially annoying.  ‘This person is not self-aware.  How can I talk normally to a person who doesn’t know themself?  They’ll only tell me a bunch of fake made-up shit and frankly, I don’t have the time or patience to hear it.”

Melanie spells Meanie if you leave out the L in Love.  Heh heh…

The meanness in me manifests into an unresponsive wall – completely unaffected by anything being said to me.  These kinds of people hurl themselves at me only to crumple against my unflinching, unblinking stare.  Sometimes I try to be nice by throwing in a “Ah, that’s interesting” and place a finger to my chin as though I’m deep in thought.  But mostly I just nod and say, “Oh yeah?  Really?  Huh….”

Kristie’s eyes never left mine.  She talked very lively and animated.  In-between breaths she would scan me for a response.

But here’s the kicker; I started doing it too!  Because of my recent emotional trauma and the belief that I must hide my damaged parts to fit in, I found myself holding her gaze, keeping up with her focus.  She was obviously more skilled than I at this game, but I was learning rapidly what it was about.  We blocked out Dave, we blocked out her quiet blonde friend smiling next to her.  We blocked out the entire bar.  The space between her and I became a funnel – a vacuum that sucked each other in and spat everything else out.  I felt needy for her acceptance – to prove to myself and everyone that I really am normal.  So I hammed it up – pretending to relate and understand.

It didn’t take long for me to realize what was happening.  While she was talking, I spaced out to listen to my own inner voice.  ‘Holy shit so this is why people are fake!  To try and hide their damaged parts.  Someone had hurt them, made them insecure and now they’re trying not to let it happen again.   And having a new person to chat with is their ultimate test at fitting in and to start fresh.

BOOM!  Connection was formed.  I put a halt to my fakeness, I didn’t need it anymore, and beneath it was my humanity.  I sympathised with her and for the first time ever, I made a connection with a fake personality because they were fake!  Such a paradox, I know….

But as soon as I sympathised with her, and with my own fakeness waning, that’s when I saw the real her being drawn out.  It was like cranking up a Jack-in-the-box.  I was slowly, patiently winding her up – knowing she’ll let herself out when she’s ready.  And I made it perfectly clear to her that she could unleash everything she’s got.

And she did.  Our laughs became real and infectious and soon the whole table became involved in our conversation.

It was funny watching all this unfold in front of me.  A lifetime of not understanding these people to only become one of them and then come out of it with new enlightened wisdom.  All the while everyone else being completely oblivious to whats going on in my head.  People tell me I’m a puzzle?  Well, it’s probably because of this shit.

When I was in my late twenties I had a problem understanding jealous, needy people.  As soon as a person got jealous or needy, I wiped my hands clean of them – but then felt guilty for doing it.  I was the complete opposite of anything remotely jealous or needy and if I could remain that way almost into my 30’s, than I wondered what the hell was wrong with everyone else?  I wanted to understand these people, know how they operated and what it felt like, but to my chagrin – I did just that.  That one is a little bit harder to pull yourself out of.  I really wished I had my blog back then, but all I had was my crumpled handwritten journals tucked away in a Century safe.  And being jealous and needy also intertwined into needing narcissistic validation from everyone – bad road to head down, trust me.

But anyway,

Socrates – “You know the difference between knowledge and wisdom?”

Dan – “No, what?”

Socrates – “You learn knowledge from a book.  You learn wisdom by living it.”

That’s from The Peaceful Warrior.  Not sure if the phrasing’s right, but you get the idea.

And as soon as the pretenses dropped from our table, everyone chimed in to talk – energy flowed how it should flow.  From one person to the next, no favorites.  No boundaries.  And it turns out that Kristie is awesome.  Turning out to be more true and genuine than most.  I gave her a chance and let her in – that’s all I did.  That’s all anyone wants, really.  Now I know how important that one small gesture is.

My previous self was immune to the faker’s silent plea, hoping they would give up, get bored – go a different route.  I was too lazy to make an effort for them – the little extra love it takes to get to know these people who need it the most.  But now I’m one step closer to being a better version of me, and even acquired a new friend in the process.

Kristie and I hung out for three days in a row.  Yesterday she taken me to see an 80’s cover band that was phenomenal (omg I LOVE 80’s cover bands!), and today we hung out all day just bumming around and ended up listening to a live calypso band outside sitting on the patio of a riverfront bar.  It was a good day.  But then if she ever gets needy, jealous or weird, I hope the new me is able to deal with it better than the old one.  My understanding is expanding, I just didn’t think it would be this painful.

At 7 o’clock we had to part ways so I could go to my five-year massage therapy class reunion.  Two girls from my class now practice Thai massage which involves using their own bodies to stretch and position the clients body.  I shit-you-not it looked like kama sutra.  We drank wine, did a few yoga poses and practiced kama sutra with our clothes on.  Well, actually I didn’t want to get involved in it.  It looked to be too intimate for my taste – which is most likely yet another ingrained problem that I have, but I’ll save that one for some other time.

I know I have a problem with over-analyzing everything, but I kinda like that one.  Think I’ll keep it.

I guess I should try my hand at sleep now.  Fml tomorrow.

You know I read somewhere about the Dalai Lama politely dismissing insincere people from interviewing him – he didn’t have the time for them.  Perhaps I am surpassing the Dalai Lama in my scope of understanding the human psyche?  How awesome is that?!  Awesome, yes – if it’s true, but true it is not.  I’m a small-time egomaniac, that’s all.  Small wormy narcissistic entrails still resound in me.

No, the Dalai Lama probably dismisses the people who look down on him, don’t believe that he’s the real deal, but Dalai don’t give a fuck – the boy ain’t got nuthin’ to prove to nobody.  Ha ha, bad ass Dalai that’s what he is.

Shit I’m tired.  Sorry circadian rhythm.

I’m such a mess.  I mean really.  My ankle is STILL swollen from when I fell in Kathmandu, my left knee still hurts from trekking and my period is 23 days late!  Plus my head is nuts, I have a cold, I’m broke and live in a basement down by the parents.

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Reasons why I’m a dope

1)  Some woman took a picture of my license plate today because I was supposedly “swerving out of control” in front of her.  Yes it got a little dicey for a while, but come on…..it’s not like I was continually swerving out of control and driving onto people’s lawns.  It was only once!  I only glanced down for a second to check my phone, but she held her phone up at eye level while she drove trying to take a picture of my car.  Who is more irresponsible hmmm?

2)  I was having horrible anxiety for weeks and just figured out today that it’s because of my electronic cigarette.  I’ve been vaping non-stop lately.  Nicotine gives me unfathomable amounts of anxiety (shivering in a fetal position and having hellish thoughts about my parents dying and being alone and unloved for the rest of my life) – it messes me up BIG time.  I’m a dope because this has happened before in the past, I just completely forgot about it.

3)  I bought a box of Vplensih for my 20 day trek thru Nepal.  I thought I was buying 200 little packets of powered electrolytes to sprinkle in my nalgene bottle, but I instead got a huge box of 2,000 packets.  I don’t even think there are any electrolytes in them.  Just small amounts of vitamins.

3.5)  I used to call nalgene bottles, algene bottles.  And still do sometime.

4)  The nicotine in my electronic cigarette is giving me heart palpitations, but I’m still vaping it as we speak.

5)  I bought a box of Jack Link’s (50 count) for my Nepal trek, but found out they are too heavy and bulky to carry in my pack.  So I’ve been eating 4 or 5 of them daily and wondering why my stomach’s been hurting me lately.

6)  I bought an australian canvas dover hat because I thought it would help me look cool.

I was going to wear it out for my birthday dinner to the Outback Steakhouse, but changed my mind because I didn’t want my brother to make fun of me.  Although, he’s the one to make fun of since he ate way too much and projectile vomited all over his bedroom last week.

7)  I’m an avid believer in yoga face.

It works!  It actually works!

I discovered this YouTube video over the summer and did the exercises for a week or two and actually started seeing a change in my face – a good change.  But then I forgot about it until just recently (after seeing my new drivers license photo) and decided to give it a shot again and holy crap I swear it works!

Please watch the video it’s hilarious, and not BS.  I call it the poor mans face lift.

8)  I can never remember how to spell the word EXERCIZE.  Excersize, exercise, excersize?

9)  I’m going to stop blogging now so I can watch Naruto.

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Menstrual Mel

Understand The Chaos

I liked being alone when I was little, but I never was. There were always people around watching over me, hovering above me, wondering what I was up to. “When I grow up”, I thought to myself, “I want to be alone and think. Just sit and think until I understand.” I was a weird kid, but I actually had this desire. I was really little too, like maybe seven? I couldn’t understand why people talked so much and why they were always angry or sad. I just wanted to understand, but I felt I had to get away from all the noise first, to be able to do it.

This yearning to be alone followed me all the way into my twenties. “Just for a little while,” I thought, “just enough time for me to clear my head and understand better.”

I had an experience when I was a kid. I may have written about it already, but my head is so foggy tonight that I can’t remember.

I was talking to my Dad. I was about 6 or 7 years old. We were talking about the universe and how it all started.

Me – “What was here before the universe?”

Pop – “Nothing was here.”

Me – “Was it just blackness?”

Pop – “There was no blackness. Blackness didn’t exist yet. There was nothing.”

That’s when I experienced my first zen moment. My mind became quiet, clear, still. It became blank and empty. It was the feeling you get when listening to an empty conch shell. Well, almost that feeling.

A split second later, I was back to reality. I had no idea what just happened – had no name or knowledge of it, but I knew I had experienced something, just no idea what. I tried to do it again. I called it “blankness,” and I could only obtain the “blankness” if I thought about the blankness before the universe started. I was able to control it. I was able to go in and out of Zen.

Are these two things normal for a kid to experience?

I had another zen moment a few weeks ago. I hadn’t had one in maybe 10 years.

What brought on this zen moment were thoughts about energy. The fact that it can never be created or destroyed, only change form. I thought about the time before the universe began – the timeless blankness – and wondered that because energy could never be created or destroyed, than it must have always been here, but since nothing existed before the universe, energy had no form to take. If it had no form, than what was it? If it had no purpose, no place to go, what form was it in? Does matter make energy, or does energy make matter?

This type of unanswerable question is called a Koan. It can’t be figured out or understood using rational thought, but can be intuitively felt and realized. It’s something that can’t be described (though, you can try), only felt. And it induces a state of meditation. Zen Buddhists use Koan’s as a way to obtain enlightenment. It is possible to find an answer to a koan, but the answer is only true if it’s a personal realization and not a rationalized one.

With all that said, I’m pretty sure I was a Zen Buddhist in a previous life. I mean seriously! I read that the Dalai Lama has no tolerance for insincere people – and neither do I! And I intuitively sense when I meet an inauthentic human being. I’m not sure tolerance is the right word. Maybe no patience, or no time to be wasted by conversing with them.

I also get an insane amount of anxiety when I feel that I’ve hurt someone. Whether they are genuine or not, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt Christina for being how she is. You can’t make a person understand by hurting them, it’s just a cycle of anger and sadness. I would hurt her, and she hurts me back. Nothing is gained.

I’m going through a rough time. It’s not just because I want to quit my job at a time when I could really use the money (for Nepal), It doesn’t have anything to do with Christina or the man-baby. It has to do with my Mother. I still haven’t told her about Nepal and it’s tearing me up inside. I feel I’m being dishonest with her – this dishonesty is throwing me off balance. My guilt is wreaking havoc on me. I want to cry. I want to stay home just to appease her, but I know that’s the wrong thing to do. It’s the wrong thing for both of us. I’m hurting my Mother without her knowing I’m hurting her.

I’ll no doubt still lie to her about buying a resort package with a guided tour of Nepal. I have to lie. But it make me feel worse by telling her nothing at all. In this situation, I rationalize, that by me lying to her, I’m only hurting myself with guilt – but by telling her the truth, I’m relieving my guilt, and hurting her instead. Telling the truth to a person who will never understand, is hurtful. However, telling the truth to someone who would understand, is the liberating, respectable thing to do. Well, in this situation at least. Shit, I’m rambling.

But by lying to her, I’m secretly conveying the message that she’s incapable of changing herself or understanding. That she will always be a control freak and not expect much else out of her. This is a paradox. Did I just create another Koan?

I guess the best thing to do in this case is compromise. To grow by gaining small levels of understanding at a time. I’ll tell her I’m touring Nepal, but with a large group of tourists. She’ll become enlightened in increments.

I’m PMS’ing. This type of thought ALWAYS happens to me when I’m PMS’ing. I hate it. Absolutely hate it. Okay, so I was a Zen buddhist in a past life – whatever you say menstrual Mel!

I bought a book about meditation. This is the book:

This guy’s meditation technique is that there is no technique, no effort. It just simply is was it is.

I mix a little of my own technique with his no effort/no control way, and it seriously works. It works to quiet and untangle my brain.

When I meditate to find “quietness,” I feel a physical barrier. A wall. This “wall” feels like a fist that tightens the closer I come to it. It’s stifling, claustrophobic and has the same kind of pressure that you may feel from a headache, only it doesn’t hurt.

My technique to this fist in my head is to approach it lightheartedly without effort, and to visualize it tightening and then loosening. It doesn’t lose the shape of a fist when it loosens, but every time I squeeze it and release it, it’s able to relax slightly more after each pass. I tighten and loosen, tighten and it loosens some more. I do it to the rhythm of my breath. As I inhale, the fist tightens and on the exhale, loosens. And that impenetrable wall and pressure dissipates. It’s left open and free for idea’s to float in.

Of course as soon as I figured this out, I had to jump on my blog to write about it. My mind is a fist once again. I need to learn how to let go. That’s what it is with me. I have trouble letting go. It’s hard to let go of something when you don’t know what it is. I’m guessing it’s fear, or doubt maybe? I don’t know.

Am I done yet? Hmmm, I think so. Sorry for the weird post.

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Filed under All about me, random thoughts, Self help