Category Archives: All about me

Melanie goes through an identity crisis

 

I hate reading old blog posts.  Especially when I’m grumpy.

Please disregard all of my previous 780 blog posts.  They are inconsequential and humiliating.

I can’t write.  I can’t write tonight because it will just be another shit post.

 

 

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Melanie Finds a New Dream!

I have an immense ability to focus. But sometimes my focus can lead to obsession and addiction when not in check.

I also have an intense ability to dream.  Before I started my business, I feverishly leapt from one interest to another.  Tenderly loving each subject that pulled at my heart strings.

A normal person falls in love with another human being (or animal or table, who’s to judge?), but I fall in love with my dreams.  It’s always been like that.  All because I still have the childish belief of thinking that I can accomplish anything.

I feel like I can accomplish anything.  I feel like I can MASTER anything.  So why haven’t I?  I couldn’t decide on what to do so I fell into a massage therapy profession.

The course was affordable, full-time pay for half-time work, I can be my own boss.

I needed to get out of waitressing ASAP and massage fit all my criteria.  My alternative was going to college but I hated the thought of it especially since I couldn’t decide on a subject.  I had too many and it crippled my decision making it into a standstill.

So with heavy deliberation, I went to school for massage.  It happened the same way I bought my car – it was the only thing that made sense.  All other choices didn’t fit.

Am I doing life wrong?

I don’t know, but I’m feeling the fever again.  The one you get when you fall in love.  Life feels like a miraculous dream kind of fever.

I want to become a sushi chef!

I’m watching Crunchyroll.  It’s like Netflix, but strictly for anime and other Japanese TV shows.  I’m watching a Japanese teen drama called Mischievous Kiss – Love in Tokyo, and the father on the show is a sushi chef.

That’s all it taken to alight my new dream ablaze.

I LOVE sushi.  I love all food, especially from different cultures, but sushi is special.  A delicious art.  It meets all my criteria and then some.

Intricacies… I have a thing for delicateness, precision, cleanliness and simplicity.  I love mastering creative endeavors.  I love pleasing people with something that I created.  I don’t create anything when I give a massage.

It’s a labor of love, one that doesn’t require me interacting with people on an intimate level like massage.  I’ve spent 10 years toiling away at it and never had that “ah ha” moment of victory and accomplishment.

And learning how to become a sushi chef ties in with my other dream – my absolute ULTIMATE dream.  They fold together like seasoning in a rice ball.

My back is all sweaty.  I ran upstairs to tell my parents the happy news and my Dad started laughing (in delight), my Mom disproved like she always does.  Only after finding out I’ll have to spend 12 weeks in California.

But this is it.  I feel like I’ll never fall out of love with this idea – I’ll marry it to the grave and beyond, through sickness and in health.

My life is weird.  I’m sure it’s weird for everybody, but nobody pays any attention to just how weird it all is.

For instance, just before leaving for Thailand, I watched a move called Lost in Thailand.  I thought it would prepare me for my trip.  Anyway, the two guys in the movie ended up at a fish spa where these little bottom feeding fish nibble dead skin off your feet.

“That’ll be weird if I ended up going to that same fish spa.”

I had a feeling that I would get my feet eaten at that same fish spa in the movie.  I couldn’t shake the idea.

About a month later, where do I find myself?  At that same freaking fish spa!

Me – “This looks really familiar.  I think it was in a movie I seen.”

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I step back to take a better look at the place and there, taped to the window, what do I see?  A picture of a film crew, the two men from the movie and underneath saying “Lost in Thailand was shot here.”

Me – “Holy crap.”

I wasn’t purposely seeking it out, had no idea where in Thailand this particular fish spa was (there’s thousands of them) let alone what street.  My mind was officially blown.

But stuff like this happens all the time to everyone if they paid attention to it.  I was on vacation so my mind was soft, quiet and curious – therefore, completely open.  But come back home again and we’re all hard, closed, and overcome with distraction.

I did nothing today.  It was beautiful, absolutely beautiful.  The perfect day for a soft, quiet and curious mind.

Yes I will become a sushi chef.  Just like seeing that fish spa in the movie and feeling a connection to it, I feel I will become one.  A sushi chef, not a fish spa.

Itamae, the proper name for a sushi chef.  See, I’m learning already!

My ability to focus coupled with my ability to dream, folded into eerie coincidences and the belief that I can accomplish anything, well, my life is weird indeed.

I’m 35 years old but I feel like a giddy little girl holding onto the bars of a Merry Go Round, just living in the moment.  I have my new work schedule to thank for that.

It’s Sunday and I don’t have to work again until Tuesday and on Tuesday it’s only for an hour.  I want to take guitar lessons.  I want to study.  Draw, paint, write, spend quality time.

I want to drink gin martini’s.  I’ve been craving them for several days now.  I never drink at home, not even after a hard day – I never had the need.  But now I want one.

Rational Brain – “They’re bad for you and alcoholism runs in your family.”

But I haven’t drank at home in 14 years!

Rational Brain – “But you drink like a fish whenever you go out.  Don’t start a harmful habit.”

Damn you rational brain.  It’ll help me sleep better.

Rational Brain – “You slept until 11 today, noon yesterday, you have no problems sleeping.”

I want to celebrate.  My life has direction, purpose, and meaning.  I just have to get through this sticky part.  The constantly breaking even part of it.

If I had this many clients last year, I would have at least $50,000 in the bank today if I didn’t hire more therapists, add facials, or rented the two rooms upstairs.  Instead, I fed that money back in.  I did it for this;  So I could wake up free each day.

My plan is working and I knew there would be difficulties and risks.  I anticipated all of this.  But I’m exactly where I worked so hard to be, finally on the brink of profit.  It’ll only take 50 more people to sign up to the membership.  I’m at 150 now, but another 50 will put a steady $10,000 in the bank every month.

I have a plan for Christmas.  I’ll have at least 200 members by Christmas.  I just have to get through these next six sticky months ahead.

As far as my employee’s goes, I’m one lucky bitch is all I can say.  Damn lucky.  Laurie finally quit after I cut her hours, so now I have a full solid team.  We are golden and get along.

Adonis, Crista, Holly, Marlyn, Kasey, Anthony, Molly & Shaggy.  They all know about my ultimate dream which I have yet to write about, and they all want to be a part of it.

I don’t want to write about my ultimate dream in fear that I may jinx it.  I can write about becoming a sushi chef because that’s a sure thing, but my main goal is still too far out of reach.  Like you’re not supposed to tell people you’re pregnant until the third month.  My ultimate dream has just been conceived.

If it doesn’t rain tomorrow, I’m doing my Iron Man walk of shame again.

 

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Business Blurb Before Bed

Hello blog

my midnight snack

my devilish retina burning time sap

It’s nearing midnight and I want to write.  About what?  I don’t know.  But something always comes and I end up with red scratchy eyes in the morning.

I did nothing for three days straight.  It was a well received vacation.  I normally have at least two clients a day that request me, which means that I had to tell over 60 people how my trip to Thailand was.

“Good.  It was good.”

“Good.  It was good.”

Repeat that 60 times over while giving a massage each time.  And that about wraps up what I’ve been up to since getting back.

As absurd as it sounds (since I write a blog and all), I don’t like talking about myself.  More like, I don’t like mechanically answering questions when my hearts not into it.  Everything has to happen organically.  And for the most part, I’m organically inclined to not talk about myself or my crazy family unless I can connect it to the moment.  Otherwise, what’s the point in bringing it up?

I just discovered a way for me to lose weight without diet or exercise.  Want to know what it is?  And no, this does not connect to the moment but I’m a hypocrite.

Cashews!

I am head over heals allergic to cashews.  Possibly all tree nuts for that matter.  I just found this out by eating a handful of cashews two days ago only to have massive stomach cramps, nausea, and a trip to the bathroom about an hour after ingesting them.

As an experiment, I did it again yesterday and the same thing happened.  The pain was severe, I almost threw up, but the relief that came after I let loose in the bathroom was incredible.  My stomach actually looks slimmer from the trauma I caused to my intestinal organs these past few days.

They don’t work as well as Thailand though (I’ll save that for my Thailand post).

Last month was a good month business-wise.  I managed to net $1000 after all my unwarranted purchases.  $1000 after paying my personal bills, going out, eBay and Amazon shopping….etc.

It feels good, but I still don’t have that “settled” feeling, you know?  It’s like I need to eat more cashews.

What I mean by eating more cashews is that I have to start eating into my debt.  It’s just as painful as eating cashews, but just as satisfying when it’s over and done with.  I feel lighter.

I finally finished my taxes during my three day hiatus.  I somehow made over $100,000 this year.  Where the hell did it go?  I calculated everything as accurately as I could on Turbo Tax and it said I made a net income of negative $10,000 or something.

When you’re negative, state law prohibits you from filing online and you have to do it old-school, by mail.  So I actually LIED on my tax return stating that I made more money than I actually did – just so I could e-file.

It’s not that I’m lazy……

So, according to my 2014 tax return, I made $2,000.  Unless there’s a loophole for buying a house, I don’t foresee it happening anytime soon.  And since I made over $100,000, I’m now targeted for audits which I’ll find hilarious if they do audit me only to find that I held back deductions.  Truthfully, they owe me money (something to do with rollbacks or roll forwards) but I’m not a tax savvy expert with elbow patches sewn into her blazer and know’s how to file old-school.

My incompetence costs $1000, the money I paid last year when I filed.  But what’s $1000 when you have $100,000?  Haha I’m an idiot.

Completely unconnected, I hired a big black man to work Sundays which made me proud of myself for not being a racist but I stopped by last night to put down a new carpet and checked the cash drawer only to find it skimpier than usual.  And where was the first place my mind went?  Can you guess?

So yeah, maybe I am a racist.  But I swear I can’t help it.  It’s like an autoimmune knee-jerk response.

No Mel, no.  Stop.  I have to consciously tell myself that.  But at the same time, I don’t want to white-wash over everything.  Lol, white-wash….White washing cracka is what I am.

So with my new sturdy man under my wing, Saturday is my only “full” day of work.  By “full” day I mean at least four clients.  It has taken me almost a year to get here and lord knows I’m tired.

I’m tired, but not settled.  There’s still work to do.  Pay down my debt and add micro-current facials to the menu.  If I had no debt, I’d be $2000 richer every month.

I better get some sleep.  I have two clients tomorrow.

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How to get out of a dump funk

Whenever I ask myself a question, it’s as though no other thoughts infiltrate my head other than the probable answers.  My focal point is set and all else falls away.

Rational Brain – “And what question is on your mind tonight might I ask?”

No questions.  I’m just mulling this fact over in my head.  I mean, one question and nothing else seems to matter except for that one question.

I had a bipolar day today.  I can’t remember my last bipolar episode before today.  I’d forgotten what they feel like.

It feels like someone sits on my chest making it impossible for me to breathe.  I feel listless, without happiness.  Like a Harry Potter dementor came to pay me a visit.  It’s quite literally a physical sensation.  Only one who experienced deep sadness can tell you about it.  Your heart physically aches.  How was I able to forget that?

All because of my impending birthday coming up on stupid Valentines day.  I remembered it’s this coming Saturday.  Last night I remembered and last night was when it started – the polar shift in my icecaps.  I woke up today with a big fatty of a dementor hanging over my head, washing away all the nice dreams I had.

Then I started worrying about my business and how I’ll never make any money with it.  All my thoughts were void of question.  My thoughts were inarguable statements without choice.

That’s what dementors do.  They rob you of your questions.  Without questions, you lose your focal point, your purpose.  And something else takes the reins – fear.

It’s so odd coming to this realization.  It’s particularly odd for me since I don’t like to complain about anything until I find a solution first.  First a solution, than I can complain all I want about the thing that once made my life hell.  I complain with a light heart – one that I’m fully in control of.  But I slip up at times and unwittingly complain in my internal grumblings.

My friend told me the other day that I’m the most emotionally stable person she knows.

It baffles me because if I’m so emotionally stable, then why am I still up at 5:30 in the morning unable to sleep?  Writing about dementors and how I feel like I have a man sitting on my chest?

If I’m considered stable, I don’t want to know what other people think about.  It’s also kind of funny how nobody really know’s anyone.

I’m up because I’m excited about my new discovery that asking the right question is like casting the most powerful patronus charm against all dementors.  I had to look up patronus charm and Google miraculously knew my question before it was asked.

Screen Shot 2015-02-12 at 5.19.17 AM

That’s crazy.

Here’s a question for you…..are we more apt to be sad in these futuristic times when answers are given to us before we can type them into a search engine?  Since answers are ample on the net, forums and blogs abound, are we less inclined to seek out a more personal take on things?

In other words, do we stop asking questions because the answers are already there for us?  We only have to open a book, or more conveniently, a laptop.

We are taught from baby-hood to listen to those who know better – and those people who know better just so happen to be anyone that’s older than us.  We’re inclined to listen more than we’re inclined to think.  It’s what we’re taught.  Lucky for me, thanks to my mother, I learned how to NOT listen to adults.

My mom is crazy and I knew from an insanely young age that I had a better gauge on reality than she did.  I owe everything to my mother, but that’s a different story.

What was I saying?  Ah yes.  According to my new insight, if we stop asking questions, the dementors will come find us.  We lose our power and source of awareness.  Awareness is found by asking questions.

Rational Brain – “That sounds insightful, can you spread your words on that?”

Okay but I won’t get too deep into it.  I’m tired.

Shit no, I can’t explain it without getting deep into it.  It’ll have to wait.  Damn the thoughts are flowing.  Damn you rational brain.

It’ll wait.  Another night.

Anywho, in other news….

I’m looking to hire another therapist to work weekends.  I can’t hack it anymore.

Another reason for my malcontent earlier today was because I had to work.  It’s Wednesday, so I only had to massage clients who requested me, but even still – it brought me down.  The moment I was done massaging them, I brightened up and the shroud lifted.

So, my impending birthday wasn’t the only weight on my chest – it was the weight of work that sent me over.

When I worked at Massage Envy, I hated it don’t get me wrong, but I buckled down and did it because I didn’t think I had a choice.  But now that I’ve grown so much and am able to finally see that I do have a choice, the dread becomes more vehement in a way.  More angry, more rebellious.  Like a teenager with a curfew who just got her drivers license.

“I don’t have to do this anymore.” Is your new focal point.  And the fact that you’re still doing it, only entices your wrath against it.  And when left without asking questions that mindfully set your focal point, can lead you to a polar shift of malcontent.

Don’t ask “Why am I still doing this?”  ask instead, “How can I stop doing this?”

Holy crap I just deleted a whole bunch of shit I just wrote.  It was work rambles.

The endings to my posts often suck the shit out of everything preceding it.

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Filed under All about me, journal, philosophy, random thoughts, rant, Self help

Here’s a transfixed ramble before I leave for Thailand tonight!

I woke up last night at 3 A.M feeling like I had to throw up.

“Why do I have to throw up?  I haven’t drank anything.”

Then a mini thunder storm erupted in my bowels.

“What did I eat?”

I wanted to get up, but couldn’t.  Every muscle felt weak.  All I could do was lay in bed and decide on whether I wanted to puke or to shit.  Then I realized I’d have to do both sooner or later and I wondered which one will happen first.  Which one I had the least control over.  And that was shit.

I shit like I never shit before.  Then I brushed my teeth because it was 3 A.M and I had morning mouth already – I threw up while I was brushing my teeth.

And so I brushed again.

But man I was sick.  Dizzy, out of breath, brain malfunctioning, black spots.

I couldn’t stand for more than a minute without needing to sit down.

Why?  From half a malaria pill that’s why!  I went online and read the side-effects and one of them were seizures – seizures!  I knew in my heart of hearts that what I was feeling (brain malfunctioning, light-headedness, black spots), are all symptoms leading up to a seizure.  I just knew, you know?  So yeah, no more malaria pills for this girl.  I’ll take my chances with the bugs.

The exhaustion I felt yesterday was impenetrable.  I couldn’t watch tv without feeling sick – I couldn’t listen to my audiobook.  Have you ever felt that sick?

It’s now the next day.  I missed my window to go to the Thai embassy in NY so I’m hoping they’ll still let me on the plane to Thailand.

My stomach is gurgling.  I have a client coming in an hour and a half.

It’s a few days later.  One day away from Thailand and omg…..

OMG!

I underwent a series of events yesterday all leading up to a new understanding about life.  It was incredible.  It all started with my new employee when she spelled the word “does” wrong.

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I cringed at the sight of it.

“There’s a reason why I didn’t hire her in the first place.”

The way my brain operates is, I try to see all sides of a situation before my judgements blind me from seeing truth.  I won’t go into too much detail, but I was once again brought to the conclusion that whatever you believe about a person, you will find.  You’ll keep finding truth to your judgements until that person’s own belief about themselves rises to meet your challenge.

If you dumb yourself down, holding back judgement, in a way, that person you’re holding judgment from will never evolve.  Placating people is a means to enable them.  And when you enable a person – nobody has any power.  It’s a stalemate and an egoic feeding frenzy that circulates back and forth into a spiral.  Placating is not diplomatic, it’s conforming – conceding.  Nobody wins.

I usually close my eyes and say to myself, “all will be well.”  I try not to judge and instead, close my eyes.  If I didn’t close my eyes, nobody will ever like me.  Trust me, they wouldn’t.

“You meant to say “does”, right?”

But what it comes down to is this; (when you’re not enabling stupid behavior and you’re being forthright in your assessments) if their power of belief about themselves overcasts your initial assessment of them, they become worthy of respect.  And since we all judge people from our own perspectives and values, what we believe about someone may be completely opposite of what someone else see’s in them.

The thing I value most is intelligence.  Lack of intelligence is the only thing that annoys me about people.  Feeling annoyed is a subtle branch of anger and hatred.  It’s placing blame to avoid having to deal with our own issues. If we accept people for who they are, this annoyance towards them disappears (it taken me 11 years to realize this).  However, when their behavior affects you in a way where you can’t accept it, remaining passive with your eyes closed will not benefit anyone.

It is more compassionate and giving to express your anger rather than holding onto it.  Expressing anger to someone who upset you is the more compassionate choice.

Since I judge people based on their intelligence, I have absolute power over anyone who annoys me for the sole reason that I don’t care what they think about me.

“Prove to me that you’re not an idiot.  I don’t need to prove anything to you because if an idiot thinks I’m an idiot, it cancels itself out.”

Why do I feel the need to close my eyes during all this?  Because it’s the easy thing to do.  But the right thing to do is most often the hardest.

Expressing our values in a show of annoyance, blame, and judgement – exposes our truest selves.  And the most pig-headed people have no awareness of their truest selves – even while exposing themselves to the wolves.

To find out what you value most, look to see what makes you angry and annoyed – it’s there where you’ll find it.

A dangerous value to have is believing that you’re always right.  By having this value, anytime someone opposes you, you will get defensive and angry.  You can end up running from the truth, and running from yourself.  All mental illness stems from avoiding truth.

Believing that you are always right is a trait of a superficial survivalist who will suffer a mental melt down if their perspective is challenged.  Why?  Because if the world they constructed is wrong, nothing will ever make sense again.  Their foundation is gone.  The void of emptiness (the bad kind), swallows them whole.  Admitting when you’re wrong without experiencing emotions of anger, annoyance, or embarrassment, is the trait of a truly strong person.  A person with faith, not fear.

I also value humility.  I know this for sure because I loathe narcissists – well, we are all narcissists but there’s a scale on how bad we can be.  The more validation you need, the higher you are on the scale.  The stronger our sociopathic traits (we are all sociopaths too), the further up you go.

Ayahuasca told me that we are all worthy of equal respect, but here in the physical realm where the ego is inescapable and spiritual evolution is our only goal – the spirit laws don’t apply here.  Only in death do they apply.

It’s all part of the game.

Growth and belief.  You grow and your perception widens – you’re able to understand more.  Expressing our value’s to others is a way for us to evolve.  You contribute nothing while placating and keeping your eyes shut.

This idea taken me to my own life.  My own growth process.

Up until, oh I don’t know…..YESTERDAY, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life.  I didn’t know what made me truly happy.  Since I was a kid, I wanted and fantasized about every career under the sun.  Then I found my business which brought me direction and goals – but are my present goals really what my heart wants?

Rational brain – “You’re only happy when others are happy.”

Yeah but it’s not lasting.  It’s transient.  Who am I in-between those laughs?  Who am I when a friend carries with them a heavy heart?

Rational brain – “Everything is transient and meaningless.  Leave the in-between part for growth and possibilities.  Never cement yourself.

In the grand scope of things yes, life is transient and meaningless.  I agree that’s it’s improbable and unwise to be happy all of the time.  But It’s about having a foundation – one that is built upon seeing and experiencing my own potential….

A few hours later…..

DAmn I’m drunk.

I trained my new therapist, went to my brothers holiday party and then to a friends house and now I’m here at home drunk wanting to sleep.

I was onto something fierce before.  A good ol’ fashioned head squashing.  But now it’s 2 A.M and I want to watch Japanese anime like the freak-show that I am.  I’m eating left over steak.  Hunter X Hunter is the Japanese anime if you’re wondering.  I’m HOOKED.  I’m being completely honest here when I say this show is amazing.  Why the hell do I like this shit so much?  It’s not normal!  I don’t just like it, I LOVE it!

My brother had a holiday party at his spa tonight.  He had a party last year if you care to scroll back to read about it.  Here’s a pick of me and my folks:

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I love these people more than words can explain.  I cradle their heads in my hands and kiss their cheeks every night wishing them a good-night before I head downstairs to my domicile.  I break out in cold sweats whenever my mother walks on icy terrain.  I cry silent tears when my father can’t write his own name with his shaking hand.

OMG I love my parents.  So much so that it hurts, you know?  It’s this side of me that’s both my weakness and my strength.  The side that I hide from everybody, but eventually I’m sure it leaks out and once it does, it’s viewed only as weakness.  Insurmountable love.  A sentimentality that stagnates and circles around like a little eddie.  Never to venture off into the blue unknown.  That’s what love is.  It’s the familiar, the net.  It’s what enables you.

Both weakness and strength…

Oh man, yesterdays epiphany was awesome but it’s gone now.  If I weren’t so busy earlier I could’ve captured the remnants of it.  But I leave tomorrow for Thailand so there’s no time.  I must post this unfinished thought.

Shit….

So much left unsaid.

I went to visit my best friend in Minnesota for Thanksgiving last week.  Here’s a video to capture the moments.  Held safe here in my memory bank blog for all the world to see.

I’m so tired.  I’m leaving tomorrow at 2 A.M.  My computer screen is so bright.  I gotta get some zzzz….

It’s now the next day.  I’m beyond tired.  I was so hungover this morning and slept for about 4 hours before having to go to work to give a massage and hand out Christmas cards to my employee’s.  They each got $50 and the 3 girls working today all gave me big hugs and wished me well on my trip.

This trip feels destined.  Like I was never not meant to go.

I need to nap big time, finish packing, take a shower before I leave and that’s it.  Then it’ll mostly be video blogs for the next 36 days.

And so my hero’s journey continue’s….

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Filed under All about me, journal, philosophy, random thoughts, Self help, Travel, video's

Miserable Melanie

My crazy aunt and homoscidal cousin are back here living with us again.  My happiness lasted for about a day and a half….

Damn hard day today was.

I had to go into work early for a client I never massaged before.  He was a man with a Groupon – he bought his massage from an online deal site and if I had one of my therapists massage him, it would’ve only cost me $3.

I pay my therapists $10 when they don’t have any clients, and $13 an hour for online deal clients (I know it sounds cheap, but we’re not massaging many deal clients anymore).

So, I went into work and saved myself $3.  I resented being there – I loathed it.  I was only there because of a technical malfunction.  He was a big black man with thick dreads and he kept his shorts on so I couldn’t massage anything above the knee (because his shorts were in the way), he didn’t want to put his head in the face cradle which made it hard for me to massage his neck and shoulders – and he wanted his abdomen massaged.  His thick dreads got in the way of massaging his neck.  Basically it sucked.  He was really nice though…

When the 60-minutes were up and I told him his massage was over, he looked up at me and said, “I thought I had 90 minutes?”

I’m the one who booked the appointment and there was no mention of it being 90-minutes.

Damn.  I massaged him all over again in a half-hour.  He liked it though, so that’s what’s important.

I worked a lot this week and kept reminding myself that starting next week, my new therapist will work Tuesdays and Wednesdays for me.  I’ll be free.  I always think I’ll be free, but no matter how many therapists I got working for me, I seem to always get booked.

I went home after massaging Mr. Dreadlocks and watched some TV and tried to relax without letting my crazy aunt and cousin eat at me little by little with running water and weird OCD grunts and my aunt saying “I love you, I’ll be right there” to her 45 year old son plugging up his ears and humming to himself – no he has no mental retardation.

“I can’t do this.  I can’t do this.”  I opened my laptop to look at apartments.

“20 more members.  I need 20 more members and I can afford one.”

I started going crazy.  Members.  All I could think about were members.  I need I need, I want I want.  I started spiraling into that dark place of hopelessness.  My whole world revolving around members.

“I need to pay my debt first.  I need more members to pay off my debt.”

“I’m stuck.  I’m stuck here.”

I closed my laptop and took a deep breath and thanked the lord I was going to Thailand.  I thanked the lord for giving me 128 members.  I thanked my new therapist who’ll be taking over Tuesdays and Wednesdays for me.  Thank you thank you thank you!

I went back to work for my last two clients.  One of whom being one of my favorite people to massage.  I made a full recovery out of the spiraling darkness.  How the hell do I do that?  My resilience never ceases to amaze me – seriously!

But then I got smacked in the gut hard with a dagger of a fist.

My new therapist:  “I have to tell you something and it’s not good news, but not horrible either.”

Me:  “Are you pregnant?”

Before she responded to that, I braced myself and remembered to remain calm.  Breathe, just breathe Mel.  Is asking an employee if they’re pregnant considered sexual harassment?  Probably.

New therapist:  “No, I got offered another job with benefits at a hospital and I need to cut my hours.  I can only work Tuesdays starting on the first.”

Me:  “Oh….”

New therapist:  “I feel bad because I asked for all those new hours.”

Is that why you feel bad?  You don’t feel bad because you’re only giving me a weeks notice and I’m going to freaking Thailand in two weeks?!

I didn’t say that, but I was screaming it in my head.  On the exterior, I was calm and understanding.

No no no no oh please god no no no no.

As soon as she left, I went on the schedule and blocked her shifts off before anyone else can book with her online.  Of course she had clients booked up until Dec 22, of course.  And of course she works Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday – why wouldn’t she?  Without her here, I’ll only have one therapist working weeknights for all of December while I’m in Thailand.  And we are BUSY.  We’re actually doing phenomenal here as far as clients and money goes – this month felt like a gift from god monetary wise.  But money means nothing if clients aren’t happy.

“I have to find someone ASAP ASAP!”

I went on zip recruiter to repost my job ad, but my initiation price expired and the price they wanted went up to $100 a month.  WTF zip recruiter?

I grabbed my old pile of job applicants and sifted through them instead.

“no, no, definitely not her, eh, nah, wait who’s this?  Oh yes!  Oh please oh please god….”

I found an application from a girl who applied here in April when we first opened.  I loved her and wanted to hire her but I held back because she didn’t seem confident enough.

I rolled my chair back over to the desktop and typed her up a pleading email.  Well, not horribly pleading, but pleading enough.  I sent it.

I waited 5 minutes.  I waited 10 minutes.  I was just staring at the computer screen.

“That’s all I can do.  I can’t do anything else about it tonight so I should just go home.”

But I didn’t go home, no.  I texted her instead.  She replied with:

IMG_2127

 

And once again, I made a full recovery back into feeling fantastic.  She’s willing to put in her two weeks at her other job tomorrow.  Words can’t explain how thankful I am.

The girl who cut her hours, honestly I didn’t think much of her anyway.  She’s one of those athletic types, you know what I mean?  Running, lifting, drinking kerotine or whatever it’s called.  I don’t get it.  I’m not saying she’s a bad person, just one of those types who have absolutely nothing in common with me.  It’s always the athletic type that I have the least in common with.  It’s weird because I really like karate and I run to my car in parking lots.

The person I have the most in common with?  My 22 year old puerto rican male therapist.  I adore him!  He ran track in high school, but he did it for fun because he thought he was the fasted kid ever.  We discuss video games and how much we don’t like dating.  And he has a true bona-fide love for people just like I do.  I can see it just by the way he treats people – he really cares.  He treats old people with genuine kindness.  Not to mention he’s a goldmine as far as clients re-booking with him goes.

Male therapist:  “We’re like the same person you and me, it’s scary.”

Me:  “Ha ha, I know!”

This new girl I’m hiring, I feel like she’ll be a narcissistic supply for me, you know what I mean?  One of those people who feeds ego’s.  All my other employee’s make me feel good about myself, sure, but then you meet someone who looks up to you and they hang on your every word more so than normal.  It’s not about love, but admiration and inferiority.

When something inspires you, it’s because you want to find that same hidden gift inside yourself.  It’s not real love, but a key.  Once that lock is opened, the love for the thing that once inspired you is gone and you’re left with nothing but love for yourself.  I know this is true, trust me.

And once you’ve opened the gift inside yourself, you want to keep it by never returning the power back to its source, so you push the original owner of the key down into inferiority.  Gaining power is what happens.  Stupid ego…

This is why celebrity gossip can crush a career.  Why oceans of people can tear a person down who once stood so high.  If celebrities, politicians, or any type of leader can make a mistake, that means they’re no better than the rest of us.  All their greatness gets transferred over to the people judging them.   It’s inspiring to know that great people are no better than the rest, so we keep the offenders far below our stilettos until we get inspired by a new target that is far more superior than anyone who has ever lived in our lifetime!  And then of course, ruthlessly crush them when they fail.

Martyr’s…I guess it’s part of our evolutionary process.

Truthfully, ego-feeders annoy me because of this.  But they have no idea what’s going on, so they can’t help it.

Whenever I’m admired I always I have the thought in my head, “find your own, don’t take mine.”  Because that’s what it feels like.  It feels like taking someone else’s gold nuggets without bothering to find your own.

I end up sounding rude, impatient, or being in a generally bad mood.

It’s a good thing I don’t have many admirers.  It’s a shitty thing to be admired.

 

 

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Another Adventure Into My Head

Ugh, I had another panic attack.

The build (the trace beginnings of the attack) happened when I was depositing money at the ATM – the second day in a row, over $200.

“This is fantastic!  This whole business venture just might work.”

I went home and stared at my accounting chart.  Last week I was negative $359, and this week I’m positive $143.  All my clients today, both new and existing, sounded interested in the membership program, and a new client rebooked for a couples massage next month.  My employee’s are happy and hard working, my goal of reaching 60 members is daunting, but not unfathomable.

My employee has her first full paying client tomorrow – a returning client who specifically requested her.  That puts $58 dollars in my pocket, but only $17 in hers.  My morals are ping-ponging back and forth with wondering how fair this is.

“That’s highway robbery!” Versus, “I paid her $520 these past two weeks for having no clients.  Putting $58 in my pocket doesn’t come close to closing that gap.”

“What if she gets four full priced clients a week?  She’s going to start closing that gap and you’re going to profit off her.”

Versus,

“But isn’t that the whole point of having employee’s?  This is what we agreed on.  She agreed to this.”

Basically what my panic was all about, was my fear of success.  Not just my fear of success, but vilifying my means of obtaining it.  Is it right?  Is it moral?  If it’s so easy, something must be wrong with it.

I can literally feel a physical blockage.  One that doesn’t believe, one that doubts its realism.  With 60 memberships, I can stop taking new clients and only massage members.  60 memberships and my business will be stable enough to run on its own.  60 memberships and I can open a new location….etc.

Not to mention all those full paying clients – the one’s that I don’t personally have to massage.

Snowball effect.  The hardest roll is the first one.  The first 60 members…The first return clients….

If I had 60 members, I would be positive $843 this week in pure unadulterated spending money.  But it’s not that easy, is it?  Nothing can be that easy, right?  If it’s so easy, why isn’t’ everyone doing it?

Another reason for my panic is due to imbibing tea, coffee, and my nicotine e cig.  It’s 2 AM and I can’t sleep.  My panic attack peaked around midnight, I drank a ton of water (I learned from experience that dehydration plays a huge role), and now I can’t stop going to the bathroom.

During my panic, I speculated that it might have something to do with having a PH imbalance.  If our bodies are more acidic than alkaline, would that activate an emotional or mental imbalance as well?

I immediately bought PH strips on Amazon so I can test my urine and bought a book about alkaline diets.

What are you doing Mel, you’re crazy….

Shhhh, shhhhh…..I’m fine.

Then I decided I wanted to be a naturopathic physician and so I Googled how I can become one.

Eight years….med degree…..internships…. expensive schooling….not enough time in life, there’s never enough time.

I went back to thinking about my business.  Wanting to put together an iMovie skit with me and my two employee’s acting to the theme of Charlie’s Angels.  Whipping out our massage bottles like guns, talking on the phone to “Charlie”, all three of us posing at the end in that iconic, memorable stance.

“It’ll be perfect for YouTube, my website, Pinterest, Yelp, FaceBook!  It’ll get us more likes and more notice!”

So many idea’s….stop idea’s….just…. stop…..

“I can do massage bombs!  Ask clients to like me on Facebook and once a month I’ll send a Massage Bomb to one lucky liker for half-off their next massage!”

Brilliant.  Brilliant.

I ran to the bathroom for the 15th time while trying not to disturb my brother and his girlfriend asleep on the fold out couch.  I envisioned what that conversation would be like.

My brother – “What’s wrong with you?  Why are you going to the bathroom so much?”

Me – “I had a panic attack so I drank a lot of water.”

Zugzwang.  The only viable move is no move.

Nothing seems viable.  Nothing seems real – all is too fantastic – too grandiose.  Too perfect.  Shall I not make a move?  Or should I go on ahead?  Continue down this unknown path?

There is indeed a fear of success.  It demonizes you, demoralizes you, shreds your conscience into oblivion.  The only thing that makes sense, the only way to earn it, to deserve it, is to work hard – extremely hard!  That’s the only way I can eliminate the fear.  That black void, the plague, the plaque that corrodes my selfless fibers.

Work hard until I resurface once again at the beginning.  It’ll just be one big cycle, a loop of never-ending hard work and struggle all because I don’t believe it can be that easy.  If it’s so easy, why isn’t everybody doing it?

 

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What to do if you’re tired all the time

Stage N3 sleep; EEG highlighted by red box. Th...

Stage N3 sleep; EEG highlighted by red box. Thirty seconds of deep sleep, here with greater than 50% delta waves. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I want answers.  I want to find answers.  I just don’t know the questions.  If I knew the questions, I can fixate the hell out of them and find some kind of understanding, a recognition of truth.

But I’m bone dry.  My curiosity has shriveled up like it jumped into some ice-cold waters.  Thoroughly depleted, cold, and shrinking.

The thing is, all I want to do is sleep.  Sleep is all that I want.

I feel like I can sleep for years without missing anything.  Just lay here in the quiet and exhale.  To finally exhale and lay down my burdens – lock them up in the tool shed in my backyard.

I’m tired of being human.  I’m tired of being owned.

Why is it that every time I embark on a call to adventure, I never feel rested enough?

“No, no I need more sleep, more time.”  I say.

And instead of sleeping, I push sleep aside and fixate on questions.

Not this time, no.  This time I’m laying down my burdens for real.  I’m actually going to go to sleep.  Like a baby.

My advice to anyone who’s tired all the time, my advice is to not deny yourself sleep.  Don’t be ashamed of napping.  Embrace napping and going to bed early – you are growing inside just like babies grow.  And you won’t be like this forever, but the longer you put off sleep, the more you’ll get sucked into your burdens.  The more you’ll bitch about them.  The more you’ll narrow your world and slip into either depression or ecstasy – both can happen when you fixate.

Sleep is a letting go, a great exhale.

I exhale constantly everyday, whenever I get a moment to lay down (my burdens), I exhale.  I never realized I did this until someone pointed it out to me because they taken offense to it – like I was exasperated or something.

Was I exasperated?  I don’t know, maybe.  Most likely yes.  I was.  I usually am anyway.  From not allowing myself sleep.

But you have to rest the right way.  With no shame.  Guilty napping doesn’t count – it cancels itself out.

This is why I promote isolation at times like these.  Being completely and unmistakably alone.  When you are alone, you’re not being pulled.

The best naps I’ve had in my life were at work in-between clients.  I lay on my massage table, turn the lights low, candle’s lit, table warmer on, and I melt.  I relish it.  Words can’t describe how much I love it.

I’ve never felt this way in my life.  I’ve never had an isolated napping place.  It is truly my happy place.

I isolate myself with the door being locked, no one looking for me, no one getting in.  I’m safe.  Unburdened.  It’s out-of-this-world kind of awesome.

I suggest that everyone finds a place like this.  It’s necessary for growth and expansion.

Okay, I’m done.  Perhaps tomorrow I’ll find questions to answer, but for now I’m going to bed early.  I have much to do in the coming days.

I need to find a larger office and hire people.

I’m taking you with me on my step-by-step rags to riches journey.  Money is not what’s important here, but playing the game and instilling faith in myself is.  This is my new call to adventure.  After that, buying a motorcycle and going cross-country.  If I can do it all this summer coming up, I’ll pee myself.

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L-A-Z-Y spells Melanie

I am hideously lazy.  Embarrassingly lazy.  I’m so lazy in fact, that it pains me to tell you what I do on my days off.  I don’t want to do it, no.  I don’t want to tell you.  No I won’t, I won’t do it.

Okay, here’s the truth.  My most awful truth imaginable….

When I have errands to run, or if I want to get out and exercise, I can’t do it on one of my days off from work.  Why?  Because if I have no reason to leave the house, I won’t.  I’m perfectly sustainable here – meaning, I find more than enough to do here at my house.  I don’t need to leave it.  Not ever.

Today I was going to go to the DMV to drop off my old plates, then fill out a vanity plate application, deposit money at the bank.  It’s also nice enough to go for a stroll, or visit Henry, the guy I keep putting off – or other friends I keep putting off (it’s in my nature and no one should take it personally).

But you know what I’m doing instead?  Downloading Borderlands for the PS3 because my friends 15-year-old son and I share the same taste in video games and he told me that I should check it out.

In the meantime while it’s downloading, I’m watching a bootleg copy of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty on a very illegal streaming website.  I won’t tell you the name of this illegal website because I don’t condone stealing.  I hate that this website exists actually.

I can only run errands, go for a hike, or visit friends if I’m already out of the house.  I have no qualms about doing any of those things if I’m already out.

And the only reason why I want to build a spa in my hometown is because of my laziness of not wanting to work.  If I can build a turn-key business that needs very little day-to-day guidance on my part – I’ll be living that much closer to my ultimate goal of lounging, video gaming, blogging, reading, napping, painting, learning, traveling, experiencing…etc.

And having it be in my hometown means less commute, hence less time, less work.  Time is work.

Okay gotta go, Borderlands is done downloading.

I’m going to build a turn-key business, you’ll see.  If I can do it, anyone can – trust me.

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A little sour milk with your chocolate

Once out of every six months or so, I experience a stranger lying in bed with me.

This “stranger” isn’t some random guy that I picked up at the bar.  He’s a very real, very solid figment of my imagination.

It happened again last week.  I was sleeping on my stomach when I felt someone laying on top of me caressing my mid-section.  This time around however, it felt more like a dream than it did real.  Usually these dreams feel extremely real.  Picture yourself lying awake in bed with your eyes closed, and you feel a stranger laying next to you touching you (I mean physically touching you as in real-life) who shouldn’t be there – who literally is not there at all.

But this time felt more dream-like.  I can’t explain how or why, it just did.  Perhaps I wasn’t as lucid as the other times?  I don’t know.

It wasn’t sexual and it didn’t make me horny.  I had a lucid dream last night where I grabbed the nearest man I could find so I can have my way with him – I know what those dreams feel like, and this wasn’t one of them.

It was pure love, pure tenderness, without any want or need.  I felt undeniably loved on a scale that I never felt with anyone in real life.  Only in my dreams…

And because it felt more like a dream, I was able to relax and enjoy it.

“This is what it feels like,” I thought to myself, “to be loved.”

I sunk in and soaked up as much of it as I could.  I didn’t want to wake from it.  And just as I have experienced in past dreams, love is inspiration and feeling like you can achieve anything.

A few days later, I went to Newport for a mini-vacation with a few friends.  It turned out with me being the 7th wheel.  All couples, and then there was me – always and forever, the odd one out.  The ugly duck.

I’m not the type of person who care’s about this kind of stuff.  I can hang in both worlds, single and couples alike, it don’t matter none to me.  Although, while I find myself sitting alone, it’s the pity party from others that I don’t care for.  If I don’t feel sorry for myself, why should they?  I happen to like sitting alone.  Writers are weird like that.

Anyway, I do however, suffer from a condition.

Before the trip, I was struggling with low-energy.  I felt like I just didn’t have the energy (or money) for a weekend trip.  I couldn’t get excited about it.

And the more I couldn’t get excited about it, the less energy I had for it.

I couldn’t get stimulated, you know what I mean?  There was no challenge.  Nothing to write home about.

It’s just that, I don’t know….What is it?  What’s my problem?  If the stranger in my bed accompanied me to Newport, I’d want to go – I’d be excited to go.  You know what I mean?

There’s no love for Mel.

No, that’s not true…..my friends all love me.  Well, most of them do anyway.

Maybe it’s just that there’s no inspiration for Mel?  Maybe Mel is tired of drinking?  And that’s what this trip was all about; drinking.  I have to drink to replace true inspiration – true love.  I have to drink to escape not feeling connected or understood by others.  I hear cocaine works for that too…

The less connection I have with people, the more I want to drink.  I was just kidding about the cocaine part, trust me (I’m way too cheap).

I’m tired of drinking.  I’m tired of feeling like the only way I’ll have fun is if I’m drunk, or getting drunk, or have a beer in my hand at least.  And it sucks that I’m tired of it.  Other than writing, beer is the only thing that fills me with that special inspiring love that the stranger in my bed provides.

A freaking stranger in my bed that doesn’t even exist!

I hear my mother upstairs yelling about a pair of underwear she can’t find.

Mom – “Where are they?  Who took them?”

She thinks everyone takes her stuff.

Minutes later I hear my dad shouting for me outside my bedroom door.

Dad – “Mel, you in there?  Can I come in?”

Me – “Yeah.”

Dad – “Neh?”

Me – “Yeah.”

Dad – “Yeah?”

Me – “Yeah.”

He comes in and places an ice scraper on my desk.

Dad – “Here’s your ice scraper.”

Me – “What are you doing with my ice scraper?”

Dad – “It was in my car.”

Me – “Oh, okay.  Hey can you tell mom that my underwear is missing too?”

Dad – “Okay.”

As he leaves my room, he shouts up the stairs to my mother, “hey Mel’s underwear is missing too!”

I went upstairs to find something to eat and I say to my mom, “all my underwear is missing.  They’re all gone from my drawers.  I have no drawers in my drawers.”

Mom – “Yours is missing too?  Check the dryer, or the laundry pile in my bedroom.”

She was completely serious.  My dad however, saw the humor.

Dad – “Maybe Fran (my brother), is wearing them by mistake.”

Me – “Yeah, he takes everything.  MOM!  I want to make chocolate milk!”

I scream this like the kitchen is on fire.

Mom – “You’re going to have to wait until tomorrow.”

Me – “Why?  There’s milk here.”

Mom – “I don’t know how old it is.  Don’t drink it!”

I give it a sniff, look at the date…

Me – “It seems fine to me.”

I fish for a glass in the cupboard as I hear my mom frantically getting up off her recliner shouting warnings at me.

Mom – “Don’t drink it it’s bad!  I don’t know when I bought it.  You’re going to get sick!”

She flew into the kitchen and grabbed the milk out of my hands before I poured it into my cup.  I’m not joking or embellishing any of this, but she was looking at the expiration and making up dates that weren’t there.

Mom – “See, right there it says DO NOT SELL AFTER FEBRUARY FOURTH.  Don’t drink it.”

Me – “It doesn’t say that, are you serious?  It’s only January 27 and the expiration doesn’t say February fourth, it says January 30.”

She takes the carton of milk into the living room to fetch her reading glasses, sloshing its contents as she hobbled on her knee replacement.

She was moving really fast.  She doesn’t even need a cane anymore.

Mom – “Okay, it says January 30, but it still smells bad.”

Me – “Really?  It smelled okay to me.”

Mom – “Than taste it if you don’t believe me.”

She hands me the milk.

Me – “No way I’m not tasting it, you taste it.”

Mom – “My stomach’s already messed up, I’m not tasting it.”

My dad shouts at us from the living room – “I had some yesterday and it tasted fine.”

We ignore him.

Me – “If no one’s going to taste it, I’m pouring it down the sink.”

My mom watched as I tilted the contents of the milk into the sink.  She hates wasting food – even expired food.

Mom – “No wait, don’t waste it.  I’ll take a sip.”

Me – “I don’t want you getting sick.”

Mom – “No, let me taste it.  Stop pouring it out.”

She gets a glass and pours out a sip.  She tastes it.

Mom – “Well, it seems okay….”

Me – “Really?  Here, let me taste.”

I grab her cup and take a sip.

Me – “It’s expired.  It’s definitely expired.”

It was disgusting.  How can she not taste how disgusting it was?  After making all that fuss?!

And that’s what I did in the last 20 minutes of my life before coming down here to write about it.

I wasn’t going to write about it, but I’m pretty much laying everything out on the table tonight what with my stranger in the bed and all.

My life is filled with these episodes.

And in the meantime, my crazy aunt who my father claims as a dependent on his tax forms (along with her 40-year-old son), is ALWAYS lurking behind me.  No matter where I am, she’s there wanting to be where I am.  I’m making eggs in the morning?  Yep, she’s there wanting to use the burner.  I’m making some tea?  She wants to wash dishes so I can’t reach the keurig.

And she talks incessantly.  Whereas I reply in an even monotoned to everything she says “okay, sure, yes, thanks, okay, that’s good.”

And on and on she goes.

This isn’t funny.  This is sad.   I clearly have problems.  Clearly!

“The entire world population can’t be insane, so it has to be me.  It has to.”  According to The Road Less Traveled, I’m a text book neurotic.

And the shitty thing is, until I can find someone who understands me – someone who understands all the shit I write about – I won’t have an anchor.  I won’t have anything that holds me in place and says to me no, you’re not crazy, you’re not alone, and yes, you’re loved.

Okay, I’m going to end this post before I start having an irrational conversation with my rational brain.

“Please don’t involve me in this.”

I’m not!  I just said I’m ending this post.

“Okay good.”

Good.

“You know you’re not the only one with these thoughts, right?  You sound like a damn baby when you complain like this.  Everyone wants to feel loved, not just you.”

Okay got it.  Goodnight.

“Seriously, you have to stop transfixing.  And besides, do you actually feel this way?  Or are you just bored and feel like writing?  Is not feeling loved or having a connection a serious problem for you?”

Yes, I think it is.  I mean, I’m not doing it because I’m bored.  I really think it’s an issue.

“Well, the more attention you bring to this “issue”, the more power you will give to it.”

Yes, I know….

“You’re not special Melanie.  No matter how much you want to believe you are, you’re not.  You’re not any more special or different than anyone else.  That’s the true basis for your “issue”.  You’re grappling with humility.”

I’m too tired to have you write out an explanation to that, so I’ll just have to take your word for it.  This post is already too long as it is.

“Okay, get some sleep.  Maybe we can write about it tomorrow.  And what the hell was your last post about?”

I don’t know, I just felt like writing.

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