Category Archives: journal

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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Filed under All about me, journal

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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Filed under humor, journal, Massage therapy, Odes, rant

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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Filed under humor, journal, Massage therapy, Strange & Unusual

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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Filed under journal, rant, Self help

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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Another day at work

My landlord is a cute little old bowlegged man who has a little old dog that is also bowlegged and follows him around wherever he goes.  Micky and Einstein side by side.  Micky’s office is across from mine, so all day long I  can hear him talk loudly into the receiver like he’s shouting over missiles or gunfire to save his life.  It’s hilarious listening to him talk.  Typical old-man speak.  “Gee golly, gosh darn willikers.”

Every now and then Einstein will get into the garbage or find something to rip apart and scatter all over the hallway outside my office.

Micky – “Einstein!  What did you do Einstein?  Bad dog.  Bad dog Einstein.  You little whipper-snapper you.  Now I have to clean it all up now don’t I?  Was it worth it to ya?”

Einstein stands there looking guilty, but couldn’t stop his tail from wagging.

Then the cute adorable receptionist who is as old as Micky comes to help out with her broom and dustpan.  She still wears secretarial outfits from the 1950’s and always keeps her hairdo perfect.  I adore her.

Linda – “Einstein must have had fun.  Didn’t you Einstein?”

His tail still wagging.  The old dog understands everything.

This happens maybe once or twice a week.

And this is where I work.  It’s an office building designed by Mr. Brady from the Brady bunch.  It’s a retro style with split levels and a confusing elevator that has 2 buttons to the same floor.  I’m on the basement level (cheap rent) where a mildew smell lingers after it rains.  A woman complained of my burning sage to rid the smell.

“It’s making me sick all her smells.”

Micky – “I’ll talk to her.”

I have to now keep my door closed when burning sage.  Who doesn’t love the smell of sage?

I’m known as the hippie girl who walks around barefoot and eats seaweed salad and sushi for lunch.  I’m here 7 days a week and I’m usually the last one to leave the building.

It’s scary here at night.  Most of the lights get turned off and no one is here but me.  I sit waiting for my next client, a complete stranger to take off their clothes in order for me to rub their naked body down.  It sounds scary, and I’m sure it’s not the smartest thing for me to do, staying here that late, but I don’t feel scared.  I’m more afraid being here alone than when a stranger is here with me.  My fear consists of demons, ghosts and monsters, not people.  Something from my childhood that I never grew out of.

No, actually I am scared of one person… the cleaning lady.  She comes twice a week at around 8pm to vacuum and take out the trash.  She’s always grumpy and not too nice to me.  I tried helping her lug the vacuum cleaner down the stairs but she grumbled and told me she got it even after telling me it was heavy and making loud distressing sounds.

When I’m cleaning up my office and packing stuff up for the night, I constantly hear her grumbling in the hallway.

Cleaning lady – “Come on come on!”  Talking to the elevator.  She hates the elevator more than anything.  The elevator and the vacuum cleaner are her two forsaken enemies.  I wish I can video tape it for you to understand.

She saw me naked once and it was very awkward.

A few months back I was putting together a shelf I bought from Target.  I had my music blaring, singing to myself.  Nobody was there.  Nobody except her, the cleaning lady.  It was summertime and I started getting hot so I took my top off.  I didn’t want to get it all sweaty and go out after smelling of sweat, so I took it off.  The cleaning lady came into my office and got an eyeful.

I had the door locked, my music on, but she still barged right in.  Our relationships been a little rocky since then.

It’s raining out.  It’s a grey day.  I love days like this.  I’m supposed to go hiking tomorrow after work.  Hopefully it will stop raining by then.  It’s not just a leisurely jaunt through the woods, no.  I’ll be backpacking it up a mountain to camp out in the wilderness and since I’m going after work at 5pm, it’s going to be pitch black by the time we get to the mountain.

Why am I doing this?   Because I never did anything like it before and I love myself a good adventure.  I don’t care if I’m cold, wet and hungry, if it’s something new and a tad scary, count me in!

My new and awesome friend, Amy, does these types of adventures all the time.  The girls got everything we can possibly need, so I’m in good hands.

What else is new with me?  Work is great, my finances are great, family in good health besides my mothers bum knee and pneumonia she’s okay.  I’m okay, I’m still friends with Dave cause I love the guy and he loves me.  I don’t care what he does in his personal affairs, it has nothing to do with me.

Really the only major concern I have at the moment has to do with my future.  7 months from now I can either take the biggest most profound journey of my life, or buy a house.  I wouldn’t actually be able to afford to live in the house, but can rent it out to people and make a small profit every month if I play my cards right.  It would be an investment property to put towards retirement.

Or go on a once in a lifetime trip of my dreams.

My friends parents are planning to go on an awesome vacation called The Magnificent Cities of Central and Eastern Europe and invited me to go along with them.  Well, it was a mass facebook invite to everyone, not to me personally.

I’ve known this family for over half my life, know they are good and fun people and so I decided to join them.  I’m bunking with their friend, Louise, who they say is a real Hoot.

I’m a traveler, or at least I want to become one.  The problem is, not everyone can afford it.  And even if they can afford it, they wouldn’t be able to get the time off from work.  So, when I know of someone traveling to an awesome destination – I have to jump on that chance.  Retirement plans can wait.  They  can always wait.

My plan is to go with them on this trip and afterwards, while I’m still in Europe, go on my pilgrimage.  It’s okay if I do that one alone.  Pilgrimages are supposed to be done alone anyway, so I’m hoping I have no tag-a-longs, but if I do, that’s okay too.  I have two friends interested in going and if they do, that would be fine and fun, but if they don’t, I’ll be okay with it.

I’m doing the Camino de Santiago in Spain.  I’m walking the width of Spain from the Southern border of France all the way to the beach on the other side of Spain.  500 miles in all.  I’ll be walking the way of St. James.

Miracles are said to happen on the journey along with spiritual growth.  The scenery is poetic, the old churches and ruins are majestic.  It sounds simply outstanding.  Most people take the pilgrimage in hopes of finding God.  I already found God in Columbia, but there’s always more of God to see.

My first trekking experience was a bust, but it was because of the people I went with.  I’m being more careful this time and making the trip about me, not anyone else.  No one will be there to yell at me or call me names – if they do, I won’t get upset.  I know me and I love me.  If anyone has a problem with that, that’s just it – It’s their problem, not mine.  Aside from Columbia, this will be the next best experience of my life.

Every client I take, every night I stay home, I think about my trip – everything I’m doing is for this trip.  I really have to start planning for it.  Finding out how to get from Warsaw to southern France will be my biggest hurdle.  Once I’m on the Camino, it’s all down hill.

I just massaged the shit out of a big tough woman with the body of Tyson and the face and hair of Whoopie Goldberg (whom I love).  She’s a tough cookie.  Plays football.  I dug my elbow into a knot in her hamstring and she did not flinch.  She’s coming back after her big game in a few weeks.  I hate sports massage, but I made a vow to myself to do my best for every client – including the ones who are difficult.

The more people I massage, the more I learn weird shit.  Like for instance, after giving a massage, I place my hands on the crown of the persons head and let my energy permeate into them.  Sometimes I feel a rumbling in their head – like an earthquake is happening inside their skull.  When I open my eyes and look down at them, they are completely still and serene and I wonder if the rumbling is happening in my hands – not the persons head.  I’m starting to feel things using all the dimensions of my given senses, to see and feel what’s really there and not assume anything.  It’s a new level of focus.  And I believe focus can take you to a higher level of ascension.  Towards the mass consciousness of energy available to us from the universe.  It inspires you and fills you with creativity.

I know people are getting sick of hearing about this, but when I was awakened, all that shit you hear about being One with the universe is not bullshit.  The universe is spirit, it’s alive and it’s you.  It’s pure conscious energy.  I asked if there were any aliens out there, but I felt that there were none.  That there’s no need for other physical worlds while all we need is this one to hold us.  But even if there were aliens, they would be us.  They would look like us, talk like us.  We would be One with them as we are One with the universe.  What the bible says about us being made from the image of God is true.

There may only be this one physical world for us, but there are infinite heaven and hell worlds in the spirit world.

Its pretty cool…

What else do I have to write about?  I dreamt about zombies again.   To dream about Zombies means that there are deceitful people in my life out to harm me.  It was a sad dream.  It started out with me in high school and everyone started walking around like they had Parkinson’s disease.  Their legs were so wobbly they could barely walk.  Everyone had it except for me.  But no one took any notice to it, they all denied that anything was wrong with them.

Then they started changing into zombies and my dream became a mix between a 1980’s spoof comedy horror flick and an old Nintendo game called Street Fighter.  Two brothers untouched by the plague, team up with me to defeat them.

A guy just came in my office to say Hi.

Guy – “Hey you know all of us mortgage guys go out to Blackbird around 4 every Thursday and Friday if you want to stop down.”

Me – “Okay, yeah I totally will if I don’t have any clients.”

Surprisingly I actually have a crush on one of the mortgage guys.  He has the sweetest face ever – not handsome, but adorable.  And I was thinking earlier today if there was a way to get to know him better.  Weird how shit like that happens to me.  I swear to God that things, EVERYTHING, works out for me.  Always.  Like going hiking tomorrow, I was planning to hike the Appalachian trail and camp before the end of summer and here I am doing it without sincerely planning to.

Not that I’ll actually date the mortgage guy.  I’m too wrapped up in my own little world of massage and mayhem to get involved with anyone.

My last client will be here any minute.  She’s here.  I can hear her in the elevator.  And great…

I just got my period.

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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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