Tag Archives: Facebook

Following my unexplored heart

Life is certainly bizarre.  I could’ve settled into my one-room office doing everything myself, building a 401K, paying off my bills, eventually saving enough for a house.  Get married, double my income, pop out a few kids.

But instead I’m choosing the scarier, more unexplored option by following my heart.

I would’ve been miserable in that other, more stagnant life.  I know what I want, and I don’t want that.

Anytime a person follows their heart, it moves them towards progress.  And while in the act of progressing, you WILL suffer.  It’s all part of the game.  It’s all part of growth.  The suffering that takes place is all done in your own mind.  A rewiring of old beliefs to make room for the new.  You’ll doubt yourself, worry, suffer loss.  Any type of change you face, has to do with also facing some type of loss.

It’s the loss that makes you suffer.

I’m losing the ground beneath my feet and investing everything I have into following my heart.  And I’m doing it all without a mentor, a guide, a Dumbledore to tell me what to do.

Do you have any idea how much an employee actually costs?

I have to pay:

  1. Employer portion of Social Security tax
  2. Employer portion of Medicare tax
  3. State unemployment tax
  4. Federal unemployment tax
  5. Worker compensation insurance

Plus I still have to figure out about liability insurance.  Massage therapists come equipped with their own, but I’m not sure if I need more.  I can’t find this information anywhere!  And I searched my towns website for a general business license, but I can’t figure out how to get my hands on one.  Maybe I don’t need one?  Legal Zoom has a company that says they can get me one for $100, but they might be scammers.  Legal Zoom also offered to obtain an EIN for me for $79, even though it’s free and easy to do yourself.  Research such as this is the stuff I have to learn on my own.  And it’s time consuming.

Before I buy anything, I always do my research.  Just as I did while hunting for a new car.

When I get home from work today, I have to sign my business up with federal unemployment tax and workmen’s comp.  Tomorrow I have a Spa Booker online training seminar at 3:00 and the phone and internet guys are scheduled to come to the office between 1:00 – 3:00.  I have four applicants waiting to hear back from me, a shit ton of Ikea crap that needs to be put together.  My new website has yet to be built.

My deadline is March 31.  If I can be done by March 31, I can leave my old office.  Once I’m moved into my new office and my clients start going there instead, I’ll be somewhat settled.  The transition will near its completion.

I was a live wire of emotion yesterday.  Any cruel look or comment could’ve sent me into a crying frenzy.  Mostly from the Facebook haters.  They really did a number on me.  It’s insane how cruel and hopeless the world feels after getting the shit kicked out of you by 70 plus people.  How everything, and everyone feels mean.  It’s something darker than depression, it’s fear.

And today I feel fine.  I’m back to my old self.

I asked my brother yesterday – “Do you need liability insurance for your workers?”

My brother – “Ha ha I hope you have a lawyer.  Do you have a lawyer?  I paid my lawyer 10 grand last year.  Yes you need insurance and it costs a LOT.”

Me – “Can you help me?  Do you have the name of the guy you use?”

Him – “Sorry, you’re on your own.”

He was back to his phone.

My brother was preoccupied with his phone all while I was trying to talk to him.  He was laughing and saying funny things as usual.

Him – “No ain’t going to help you.  You’re moving in here and taking my business away.  No way.”

Me – “You’re kidding, right?  You must be kidding.”

I literally felt the tears welling up.

Me – “I would help you if you were me.  You really won’t help me?”

Him – “Yeah, I’ll help you.  But I’m still going to spread rumors that your place has maggots.”

I felt a 100 pound weight lift from me when he said that.  I’m not joking when I say I was a live wire of emotion yesterday.  Even though he was having a go at me, I still wanted to cry.  It felt like not only did Facebook people hate me, but my brother hated me as well.

I’m insanely sensitive at times.  Times when I feel not together, when I feel there’s too much that needs to be done and nowhere and no resources to pull from.  It’s like finding myself stranded at the bottom of the ocean with half a tank of oxygen left and no strength to swim up.  I can’t swim up because it’s hopeless and I won’t make it out in time.

But then I bounce back.  Like today.  I’m perfectly fine and have my head back.  Thank God for my resilience.  Maybe my resilience comes from never wanting to give up and lose hope.  I can get through and get over anything because I never give up.  My heart always leads me, and I trust it.

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I’m being chased with pitchforks and torches by an angry mob of Facebookers. Just another regular day in the life of Mel.

“Get a massage by me and find out if you’re an alien!”

This was posted on a billboard for my new massage clinic.  Directly in front of my building.  It even depicted a green alien holding up a peace sign.

“What a great idea!”  I thought to myself.  “People can finally find out if they’re aliens by getting a massage from me.  It’s brilliant!”

Then I woke up.

“Is this really a good idea or was it only a good idea in my dream?”  This was my first thought of today.

Nope, only in my dream.  Damn, it sounded really good.

Today was hard.  First item of the day was to contact Spa Booker for my new online scheduling system.  I’m taking a big hit financially by signing up with them, but the perks of their software are worth it.  I won’t bore you with the details, only that they are fantastic.

The financial hit with Spa Booker sent me into another panic mode frenzy.

“Shit I’m screwed if this doesn’t work.  I don’t even have employee’s yet!”

I freaked and started posting jobs to various sites.  I even posted a job to Massage Nerd, a Facebook support group.  And got shunned.

I’m using Massage Envy’s business structure as my own, and this is the first thing that people spotted about my Facebook ad.  They read between the lines into who I really am – someone looking to profit from another persons hard work.  Duh!  Isn’t that the point of employee’s?

Most massage therapists hate massage chains.  They are the McDonalds of massage, only instead of cheap burgers, I’m selling the same quality burger you’d find anywhere, only cheaper and easier to book with.  They are easier to book with because they hire employee’s to sit there for an hourly wage, take walk-in clients, and are readily available instead of other clinics that have to hunt down their on-call therapists (most of whom ignore the call).

It’s so bizarre when first coming into view of these two clashing worlds.  Therapists who want to massage people for a living, work from home or in their own office to make a modest profit.  They like their job.  They like what they do.

But then there are people like me, the people who view the massage industry differently.  For us, it’s not a way of life, but a profession.  A paid occupation.  It’s a tool to profit from.  I can’t escape the gnawing dread of breaking an arm, or getting a nasty gash on my hand.  If I don’t work, I don’t get paid.  Something must be done about this.  How are others not seeing this?

And so, I’m using Massage Envy as a base model.  Their system is proven to work.

I’m a person that massage therapists hate.  I am a hated person.  Shit.

They hate me because I lower their value, I lower their worth.  It’s all an ego thing with them and they can’t see it!

When someone offends you, it’s because you feel they lowered your worth.  They take things personally.  I shrug my shoulders at everything, but what scares me most right now is that I want to laugh at all the haters.  I have this bubble of laughter in my gut just waiting to explode.

This is not good.  Why do I want to laugh?  These people commenting on my Facebook ad, many of them shunning me with torches and pitchforks, and here I am wanting to laugh at them.  Is it my egoic baser survival instinct kicking on to block all hate?  Or do I see the true nature of the situation and find it comical?  I feel like I’m the older sibling holding a kicking screaming child by their head while their flailing arms and legs aren’t long enough to reach me.  Their fighting makes me laugh.

Am I a sociopath because of this?  No no, I can’t be.  Right?

Anyway, it’s a few hours later and my Facebook ad got well over 90 discriminating comments.  Okay, not all discriminating.  Half of them are for me, while the other half is spewing vile discharge out of their anuses.  Did you know that synthetic vanilla flavoring comes from beaver anal discharge?  Neither did I.

I received my first legitimate response to my help wanted ad from a reputable job search engine, and a woman on Facebook wants to work for me per diem.  Sorry per diem lady, I need stability.

It felt like a half dozen sparrows encased my heart in silk ribbons and lifted it high into the air when I saw her resume in my inbox.

Yes!  Score.  This will work.  This will work.  Eat it Facebook turds.

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My facebook friends theory

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I’ve been sitting on a facebook theory I had for a while now.  I keep forgetting about it, but then remembering, and every time I remember, I look for sign’s to prove my theory is true.

My theory is that the friends listed on your profile page, to the left, showing their little profile pictures, are the most recent visitors to visit your profile page.

Ever since I found this out, I started visiting people’s profile pages with the intention of them seeing my face more and knowing I’m still here.  The more people see my face, the more famous I become.  Not only famous, but remembered.

I wonder if other people would do the opposite of what I do and avoid peering at people’s profiles so they can stay hidden under the radar?  Not me, I want my blips to be big and noticeable!

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I’m spooked and sad

This is bizarre so I felt I should share it.

About a year ago I started playing Mafia Wars on Facebook and added a bunch of new people to my friends list in order to bulk up my mafia power. 

One of those new ‘friends’ caught my eye.  A young boy with striking hazel eyes and deep dimples – a really cute kid. 

Time went by, I forgot about this kid until tonight – about 20 minutes ago I see his profile pic notifying me he’s online.  I click on him to see if he grew since last time I seen him.  He didn’t grow, but his father passed away. 

He posted a picture of himself and his brother with their ill-looking father.  Their father was tagged.  I click on him to be taken to his Facebook page which was open to the public.

It was so sad.  The man was only 42 when he died last year.  He wrote in his Bio;

Well I am a divorced single parent with two lovely children in a joint custody situation. I also play in a band, and love my motorcycle riding and spending time with friends. Life is to short to spend on the sidelines so lets get rollin!

His favorite quote;

Illigitimi non carborundum….Dont let the bastards grind you down.

And for Employment he wrote;

local 1644

Carpentry…not returning to work at this time due to illness….waiting for go ahead to return to school for my associates degree.

This was him before getting sick.  I don’t want to post pic’s of him sick. 

He looked like such a good guy.  My whole family is into construction work and motorcycles – they would’ve been friends.

His Facebook page is still active.  His mother plays a bunch of games under his account, and sometimes she replies to people’s messages. 

One message reads:

It seems like everytime the past week or so I check my email there is an email from you. Just when I need it most… No need to open it as they say it is spam I believe in my heart it is you just letting me know you are near… Makes me feel good so I am going with it… Miss you… Always, B

I scroll down and keep hitting Older Posts. 

Another person writes;

I paused for a couple minutes when I saw the emails…..pretty weird.

His sister - I was startled Too

His momThis is (the guy’s name)… Mother, please pass the word that any messages from my sons sites are fake! Thank You.
This has been very upsetting for all of his family!

Mom wrote again – If this is someones idea of a joke, it is very cruel and mean!

Sister – Mother it came from the hotmail address, I think it’s a virus or Joe just popping in to say HI? I think I’ll beleive the latter =)

Some guy –  I received an email from Joe this morning too, pretty weird indeed. I didn’t know what to think when I saw who it was from. I hesitated opening it thinking hmmmm, somethings not right. Now I read this posting from Jane.

I’ve been reading Silvia Brown lately and I read today, actually, that spirits often contact us by using the energy of electrical devices. 

Another message from a friend wrote;

Thanks for leaving the penny right where I plopped down to have a tearful hissy fit over the weed whip. It would have been otherwise impossible to find that one, single, lone penny on the pitted blacktop unless you wanted me to find it. Thanks again. You saved the day by helping me calm down and fix the dang thing rather than throw it across the alley.

This is another thing I read today – spirits leaving coins around.  Sylvia doesn’t understand why spirits like to leave coins, but they do.

It’s an odd coincidence that I came across this today.  It is also odd that you can’t spell coincidence without coin.  Coincidence?  I think not.

If you can’t tell, I’m horribly nosey about people’s personal lives – even those I’ve never met.  I’m like an investigator.  Maybe I should be an investigator instead of a human guinea pig……

Anyway, his close friends and family still write on his wall as if he’s still alive.  I’m sure he’s getting the messages.  Maybe Facebook can be the great intermediary.  A middle ground between the two worlds.

I really need to go to bed.  I spent way too much time writing this post when I should-be been sleeping, but I just had to let it out.

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Happiness only real when shared

I woke up today, went upstairs to make some eggs and I hear OCDC running water from the bathroom sink.  He has a weird OCD tendency where he can’t talk while he is washing his hands.  People can talk to him, but he can’t say anything back.  That’s fine and dandy but he washes his hands so much that he had to find a way to communicate without speaking.  If he can’t communicate his needs, he would have to do everything for himself.  And he doesn’t like to do anything for anyone. 

His profound intellect (my family thinks he’s very smart – almost at the genius level) created a sublime system to infuse with his nonlexical dialog.  What did his superb ingenuity come up with?  Well, I’ll tell you.  He talks with his mouth shut.  

The muffled sound that comes out of him in lieu of speaking is becoming the most dreaded annoying sound I ever heard. 

My enabling aunt who’s complacent to his every whim stands idly by waiting for his next command. 

OCDC – “Mmmmm   Mmmmm Uhhhh Claaaaaaaa.” 

Enabling aunt – “What?” 

OCDC – “Mmmmm Mmmmm Uhhh Claaaaaa.” 

Enabling aunt – “Oh, you want the wash cloth?” 

OCDC – “Mmmmm Mmmmm.” 

At this point my eggs are still runny.  I stare at them and hope that my burning gaze would cook them faster. 

OCDC – “Caaaaa huuuuu heeeee.” 

Enabling aunt – “Okay.” 

Hurry up eggs, hurry up.  My toast is done, I butter it.  Slide the eggs off the pan and onto my plate.  Douse it in hot sauce. 

OCDC – “Mmmmmm Mmmmm.” 

I run back downstairs before I hear my aunt’s reply. 

How does this malfunctioning, yet functioning family dynamic work?  Because they have each other.  As long as OCDC’s demands are met, he is satisfied.  And as long as enabling aunt can meet those demands, she is satisfied.  The feelings are mutual and everlasting until some snot-nosed little punk (AKA me) comes into the picture and destroys their fragile balance. 

I go downstairs and log into facebook.  My cousin (OCDC’s brother) keeps making false promises that OCDC and enabling aunt can go live with him and his wife in Louisiana.  I wanted to send him a message asking him when that will happen. 

I didn’t go through with it.  I found his page and was ready to write the message until I glanced down and saw that he only had 20 friends.  

“20 friends?” 

This number stupefied me.  One of his friends was his wife who sends him sweet wall posts such as ‘Love ya XOXO’ – ugh, plahh.  Another friend was my mom.  Most were family.  

I started wondering if he is happy.  If this poor guy is miserable, how’s he going to feel if he reads a message from me asking when he’s going to start taking care of his good-for-nothing brother?

A few weeks ago I complained about OCDC running the water all day and he freaked out at me.  His voice was trembling in anger, “I CAN’T WAIT TILL I GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE.  I respect and love my aunt and uncle, but I CAN’T WAIT TO GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE.”  All while my enabling aunt tells me that he just started running the water a few minutes ago. 

I was annoyed, but unemotional.  For unemotional people to hear an emotional outburst is comical in a way.  I wanted to laugh at him. 

I sound horrible don’t I?  I’m sure I do, but I lived with this for years and this is my only place to vent and get away with sounding like an asshole. 

I received a text from a friend tonight on my ride home from work.  She wrote about how much she hates her coworker’s and that it’s making her depressed.  I wanted to write a post to help lift her spirits, but it turned into this instead.  However, I do still remember my main goal for this entry was to quote Chris McCandless

In his last journal entry he wrote:  Happiness only real when shared 

He was dying and figured out the main cause of his depression a few minutes (hours?) before he died from hunger and poisonous berries. 

Misery loves company and happiness happens only when shared.  Don’t let misery take over. 

Into the Wild

Overall I learned that certain people are going to be rotton no matter what you do.  You just have to say, “Fuck em.”  Honestly, it works. 

I know you’re reading this in work right now and have no volume, but this song helps in putting petty annoyances in perspective.  You can watch the video and read along to the lyrics. 

Such is the way of the world
You can never know
Just where to put all your faith
And how will it grow
 

Gonna rise up
Burning back holes in dark memories
Gonna rise up
Turning mistakes into gold
 

Such is the passage of time
Too fast to fold
And suddenly swallowed by signs
Low and behold
 

Gonna rise up
Find my direction magnetically
Gonna rise up
Throw down my ace in the hole
 

Umm….It’s lot more soothing with the volume turned up. 

OCDC is running the water again.  I need to watch this video one more time.  Breathe.

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Filed under journal, My OCD cousin who wants to kill me, rant, Self help