Where the sun don’t shine

I went to New Hampshire over the weekend with my friends family.  I drove up there with two of my close friends who started talking about what it will be like when GF and I have sex for the first time.

GF, when I’m not with her, she loses her bewitching hold over me.  I’m no longer under her spell.  And the old Melanie starts coming back in waves.  It’s just like waves of nausea actually.  One minute I’m fine, and the next, I want to play video games, hide, and throw up because Melanie, WTF are you doing?  You’re so fucked.

The car ride up there, I was getting hit hard with waves of nausea that was triggered by the sex talk.  All I wanted to do was break up with GF and be back to my regular self again.  That would be the easiest thing to do.

There’s something girls do – all girls do this actually – that I didn’t know about.  I had no clue.  They stick their fingers in their own vagina.

I first heard about this from GF while she was having one of her sex talks with me and I blew it off thinking that, “she’s a lesbian, that’s just what lesbians do.”

Her – “Lesbians can stick their whole hand up there.”

Me – “No way, I can’t do that.  That’s crazy.”

One thing I always say when I’m nervous about something is, “that’s crazy”.  And I say it a lot.  That’s crazy.

Me – “We can start with one finger.”

Her – “Haven’t you ever stuck your own finger up there?”

Me – “I have a few times when inserting tampons without the applicator and then I washed my finger off real quick.”

This made her look at me like I was crazy.  She stared at me in shock.  But again, like I said, I didn’t think anything of it.  I’ve never been into vagina, not my own or anyone else’s.  So for me not to stick a finger up there, for me personally, is normal.

But it’s not normal.

On the car ride up to New Hampshire, hearing it from my friends first hand made me realize just how not normal it is.

Everybody does it.  Why not me?  Why haven’t I even thought of doing it?  Just once?

I’m laying in bed at noon on a Tuesday and I still have no desire to stick my finger up there.  The desire just ain’t there.

I might be in big trouble, I don’t know.  I don’t know what this means for my lesbianism.  I mean, just how straight am I?  Am I so straight that I don’t even finger myself?  Is that it?  No, I don’t think that’s it.  It can’t be it.  It’s more likely from me being a germaphobe.  Risk verses reward sort of thing.  Fingering myself isn’t worth the risk of infection.

I went to the OBGYN for the first time in my life the other day.  The main reason for going was to get tested for STD’s.  I haven’t had sex in 4 years and been symptom free, but I don’t know how STD’s work.  I’m a C student.  I also don’t know how the vagina works apparently.

They had a poster of a vagina and all it’s working parts hanging on the wall in the exam room.  I studied it – like, really studied it for the first time since high school when I had to memorize all it’s parts.

Me – “Oh god….it’s like a gaping mouth of mysteries…so that’s the pee hole….and that’s…wait, what is that?”

I saw the word liquor on the diagram and stayed puzzled for the remainder of my stay in that little exam room until my doctor shows up.

Before my visit to the gynecologist, I went on my health insurance website to look for doctors who accept my insurance and felt I’d be the most comfortable with an asian woman doctor.  So I picked someone with the last name Chong.

But when the doctor finally entered, she was no Chong.  She was a frizzy blonde haired woman, and a little strange.  She was smart, but a little strange indeed.

She put a regular sized speculum inside of me and I squirmed in pain gasping, “I don’t usually stick stuff up there….”

Her – “Relax, stop clenching.”

But even after I stopped clenching, it still wasn’t happening.  She had to use the small speculum, most likely the smallest they had.  Baby-sized speculum for my ridiculously small vagina.

Anyway, I guess I should get up and start my day.  I’m taking GF out to dinner and then to a play at the Long Wharf theater tonight.  I gotta say, if I want to be honest, I make a really good girlfriend.  I treat this girl so good!  But it’s impossible not to treat somebody good if you care about them.  You can’t care about someone and treat them like shit at the same time, it’s impossible.  And it’s not even about doing nice things just to get laid, as you know, I don’t have an appetite for the sex stuff.  I’m just genuinely nice and caring.  I mean, I’m getting tested for STD’s just for her!  And I picked a date for when we will have sex.  It’s months from now but I’ll no doubt be ready by then.  I had to pick a date just to put GF’s mind at ease, so she has something solid to hold onto.

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Whipped

I just made my last few posts private so only I can see them.  I think my brother reads this shit.

I can write personal stuff about myself all day long here in my blog, but it’s fucked up if I involve others into my circus show.  Especially someone I like so very much.

GF and I hung out almost every day since September 18th, the day we officially started dating.  Yesterday, October 11th, I was completely shot.  There was no second wind, just exhaustion through and through.  I hung out with GF anyway because I’m going away to New Hampshire this weekend and won’t see her until Monday.

She wants to see me everyday as much as humanly possible.  I’m not someone who does that.  It’s one of the main reasons I don’t date, because of the flourish of activities involved.  I’m a homebody.  And just the fact that she gets me out of the house everyday, is proof of how much I like her.  I never felt this way about anybody.

Yesterday we went to the Cadillac Ranch and partaken in a professional corn hole tournament.  I was exhausted, but thought moving around would help wake me up – nope, still exhausted and now I was sweaty.

We went back to her house and played card games.  She didn’t want me to leave even though I could barely keep my eyes open.  It was so rainy outside, hot and muggy.  I was hungry.

I need to pace myself.  I have to learn how to say no to going out everyday.  But it’s hard since she already thinks I’m not sexually attracted to her, saying no to hanging out would only make matters worse.  She just has so much freaking energy, a great amount of energy.  I can’t compete.

It feels wonderful to have someone always there, wanting to love me.  She’s on break right now texting me.  She always texts me while she’s on break.

I tell you what, if she opts out of this relationship, there’s going to be a huge hole in me.  The biggest one I’ve ever felt.  It’s scary to think that since I was fine on my own last month.

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Is it Chemistry or Convenience?

I filled in as a sub for my friend Nicole’s pool league on Saturday and used a new break cue that my brother gave to me.  I come to find out that he lifted it from the Cadillac Ranch.

It’s a good cue, one of those expensive cue’s that cost in the $100’s, and somebody left it there either by accident or not at that semi-crappy bar.

My brother – “If I didn’t take it, somebody else would’ve.”

I played my match and after I played, I decided to return the cue to the Cadillac Ranch.  I felt too guilty.  I didn’t care if somebody else lifts it, it weren’t gonna be me.

Luckily enough, the Cadillac Ranch is very close to Shooter’s in Southington so all I had to do was swing by and nonchalantly drop it off like an anti-thief in the night.

But it was a Saturday night and they had a $5 cover.  Not only that but I was already a few beers deep and feeling good.  So I figured, why not stay for a beer at least?  That’s when I remembered my new friend, Liz, whom I met a week prior, lives super close to the Cadillac Ranch.  I called her up and got her to meet me for a drink.

Then my friend Stephanie show’s up with her Bumble date.  Then my brother shows up.

I ended up closing the bar.

It’s funny how one good deed can lead to an awesome night and my new friend, Liz, is wonderful.

I already have a shit-ton of friends, I don’t need or want any more, but we have too much in common and when I’m with her, she feels like best friend material and at my age, the older I get, those BFF types are a rarity.

So, after Liz got off work on Wednesday, I took her to my family’s cottage in Rhode Island and we drank, played cards, watched movies, and at midnight we walked to the beach, as per tradition, I do every time I go to Rhode Island, and yeah, definitely BFF potential.

She’s never had a best friend before which is opposite of myself.  All I’ve ever had were best friends and feel that life is a little harder and sadder without them.

But I’m truly the worlds biggest cynic…..the thing is, looking back on all my best friends…..we were BFF’s out of convenience.  We came together, liked one another enough to hang out, but the thing is, as fate would have it, we had both TIME and ROOM in our lives at the exact same moment at the start of the friendship.  We had room for each other.  And the more room you grant a person to occupy in your life, the greater the friendship.

I hate to say it but it’s true.  Making room for someone is the most valuable part of the friendship.  Like in the Big Labowski, the Dude was best friends with Walter whom he didn’t even like, but they both had room in their lives at the same time.

Liz just so happened to meet me at a time in my life when I was suffering from crippling boredom.  The boredom I experienced didn’t last long, maybe a week or two, but like I said in my last post – I needed to do something about it pronto or my mind would be blotto.

She’s a Fortnite player.  In my last post, I was seconds away from downloading that game.  I come to find out that Liz is a Fortnite player and she invited me to her house last Tuesday for a play date.

We both have room for each other and we both have a ridiculous amount of shit in common.  But according to my theory, if she met me at any other time in my life – literally ANY other time, she’d be a forgotten Facebook acquaintance.

After I played Fortnite with Liz, I had my pool league.  My crush was there as always.  He’s married.  And I did something I regret.  At the time, it seemed like a good idea…

I told him how I felt about him but I did it in a way like when people say, “Man, if only you weren’t married, I’d totally be into you” sort of way.  Like an after-thought way of saying something.  In a “too late to change things” kind of way.

Old woman – “If only I was 20 years younger, we could’ve had something special.”

It was somewhat cutesy and complimentary.  Not at all meant to rile feathers.

It was wrong and selfish of me because the guy actually likes me.  It be different if he had no feelings for me, but he does.  And I shouldn’t have said anything.  He’s just so goddamed big and tall and ridiculously funny and smart.  Not to mention he’s half-black which to me, is sexy as hell.

But anyway, I digress….my 7 month old nephew is here upstairs.  I should say hi to him.

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Don’t buy Fortnite Melanie oh please girl, don’t buy Fortnite

I did nothing all day yesterday except watch Ready Player One and Upgrade which were both rather satisfying to my anchored ass cheeks sinking ever so deeply into the memory foam of my bed.

I’m having a problem.  It’s been an entire week since I stepped foot inside my business.

I want to squish my face and yawn and stretch and move.  I want to get drunk.

I’m bored is what it is and I never get bored.  What a horrible feeling.  I can’t even write when I’m like this.

I read an article about people starting to rely heavily on Google instead of using their own memory/judgement.  According to the article, this is a good thing since it can free up valuable real estate in the brain allowing it to work more efficiently.  The hippocampus will remember only what is most vital and necessary, disregarding the rest.

I don’t think this is a good thing.  It’s not good at all.  Call me crazy, But I think it’s a bad idea to rely on ANYTHING.  My biggest argument being that we will stop making neural connections and seeing patterns.  It’ll put a halt to innovative thought.

I’m a thinker – I love to look at idea’s from all angles.  When someone tells me a theory, I don’t stop there and decide to agree with them, no, I look at their theory and see what’s missing in their assessment.  It’s like a game I play to find what’s missing.  But I wouldn’t be able to do this without relying on past experiences to help me make patterns and connections.

If a memory is gone, that little cluster of neurons that once held that memory won’t be there.  Google, with time, will shrink the human perspective.  We will be lost.  Just as it is with my small hippocampus that rely’s solely on GPS to guide me from point A to point B.  I’d be lost without GPS, just like I’d be lost without my memories to guide me into making the right decisions for myself with the help of using my god-given tools.

It’s like Google is the new God.  I’ll use my Google-given tools.  You know?

We’ll end up a society of dementia patients if we don’t have access to our “Google brain” for a day.

I suppose it’s no different from the hive mind theory, AKA, social media mind.  One mind makes all the calls and judgements for us – the collective – the people have spoken and as a collective, the people MUST be right and good because we are the people after all, right?

This post has nothing to do with Fortnite but I didn’t know what I wanted to write about when I started writing this.  It was either play a video game or write in my blog.

I can’t tell if I have too much stress or no stress at all.  My brain feels inoperable.  I don’t know what’s going on with me lately.  It’s like I too, am succumbing to this hive mind of no thought.  Perhaps when the body doesn’t move, the brain stops moving as well?  But what about Steven Hawking?  Perhaps when we aren’t suffering through something, the brain stops thinking up innovative ways to stop the suffering?

I don’t know but what ever is happening to me, I need to fix it pronto.  I need this bicycle trip more than anything really.

 

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The PMS Post

I just had a dream that I was pregnant.  I wasn’t pregnant with just one or two babies, no, I was about to give birth to a full litter!

I slept until a little after noon and woke up to my office manager texting negative shit yet again.  Day in, day out, it’s always negative, never positive, and always aimed at making me feel miserable.  I finally spoke up to her about it and haven’t heard a peep back in the last hour.

I can’t take it anymore.  But I wanted to make sure it was actually her and not me before coming to any conclusions and after careful thought, respect and consideration (it taken me months of analyzing), it’s definitely her.  No doubt.  And it’s been salting my brain into malcontent.

I want to get away so bad.  To take off on my new bicycle and hole myself up in the woods somewhere.  Everything would be so perfect in my life right now if I didn’t have her negativity with its scathing talons hanging on to the morbid bits of business ownership.  Yes there’s a lot of fucked up shit to deal with but no, I don’t linger or complain about it – I DEAL with it.  Like I do with everything.  You can’t spell Ideal without I DEAL.

There’s a Katherine Hepburn quote from the Philadelphia story that states:  “The time to make up your mind about someone is never.”  And I’ve lived by that directive even before hearing that quote.  I put people in the grey area of possibilities rather than definitive statement colors like black and white.  But when it effects me personally, I need to see the definitive in order to make a choice.  Choices can’t be made in the grey of that which you can’t see your up from your down.

I set a date for my bicycle excursion.  September 23rd.  I have nothing going on for those 2 weeks.  I’m no longer nervous about this trip either since I’ve ridden the bike a few times already.

But since I’ve been dealing with negativity for at least the past 6 months now, I just want to borough myself inside my mattress.  I don’t want to hide under the blankets, I want to go INSIDE my mattress.  Maybe hiding myself under the bed would be easier.

Today is definitely the peak of things.  I want to close my eye lids until they cover my toes and then keep closing them until they reach the other side of my body.  So I’m like a tight little eye-lid ball that can float on water and be lost at sea.  I can be my own Wilson.

Away away away.  Just get away away away.

Writing about it seems to be putting me deeper in this funky melodramatic trance.  It’s like my bedroom is this squishy warm orange box of languid dreams coming to life.

Which reminds me….I did mushrooms a few weeks back.

It’s funny how “I did mushrooms” takes on a different meaning than “I ate mushrooms.”

You don’t eat the mushrooms I ate.  You DO the mushrooms I did.

Still though, nothing is cleaner than ayahuasca’s pristine potency.

Hallucinogens to me, always tell me the same thing; the drug will do exactly what you think it will do, it will act in accordance with how you expect it to act.  Many people treat ayahuasca as a medicine, so it acts as a medicine and gateway to the soul.  Everything served up just the way you expect it.  If you treat it as a drug however, it will act as a drug – making your body feel limp and listless and heavy.

I played around with this for a while once the shrooms kicked in.  Testing the dexterity and fluidity of my mind, seeing the tricks it plays and senseless riddles that take up the spaces in-between.

“Everything is exactly what we want it to be.  Or expect it to be.  Or believe it to be.  Everything else that exists outside of this fact is meaningless.  This is the one true rule, all else is meaningless.”

Entering into the shroom-verse places you in the grey area of ambiguity – it crushes your beliefs into meaningless glints of ash until you realize it was you doing the crushing the whole time.  Not the shrooms, but you.  You are the mushroom.

People with anxiety, psychosis, neurosis, those people have more beliefs and expectations than anyone – that’s why they so fucked up.  They concoct a story that they believe is real and if something doesn’t fit into their story, they twist and manipulate until it does fit.  In the meantime, they can’t see what’s really happening in the real world – that what they’re doing is in fact meaningless and all for nothing.  It’s like building sand castles.

Attachments have everything to do with it.  They want to dig a hole deep enough and wide enough to put everything they value inside so it stays protected and soon enough their walls are so high they can’t see shit outside themselves.

And that’s what each person is to me – a hole.  Mostly everybody is a hole of some sort.

Like if I’m trying to take a stroll on the beach and I keep having to hop over sink-hole after sink-hole so not to fall in.  Each sink hole is equipped with its own reality.  And that reality can be manifested by just one person, or there could be entire groups down there numbering in the thousands, and then sub-holes dug deeper for a few of those special elite “clique” groups.

I like to stay on the surface of things.  That way I can stay amused and unaffected.  But after being bombarded with negativity practically non-stop these past few months, sometimes you need to kick some dirt in another mans hole.

Dammit, I think I’ve gotten myself depressed.  I want to sleep and to be left alone for a while.  Today is an actual day off – I haven’t had one of these is a while.  I need to buy a sleeping bag for my bicycle trip and I need to buy new clothes, I keep having to wear the same stuff over and over.  But then when I find time to run errands, I’d rather nap all day or play video games if my friends don’t gobble up my time first.

Stress makes me immobile.  I may be doing absolutely nothing, but in my mind, it feels like I had to cope with grueling circumstances all day – no real rest – no real relaxation – no serenity or peace.  Just a bunch of big beefy military men playing soccer inside my skull all day while I try to relax – the physical pain and fatigue are real.  There’s no escape from it.

According to the shrooms however, it’s my own making.  I’m choosing to fixate and be negative and stressed out.  I’m choosing this.  But my rational mind, even though it’s aware of what it’s doing, says to me, “Just a few more minutes of it….that’s all I’m asking….just a few more minutes and I’ll be done.”

Done with what exactly?

Rational Brain – “Trying to understand everything that’s happening, why I feel the way I feel, and how I can control it better.”

You’re just digging a ditch though, by doing all that unnecessary busy work.  You’re digging yourself further from reality.  Put down your tools and step on up here.

Rational Brain – “Okay, but I really am tired.  I really want to stay here and nap.  I’m too tired to climb out just yet.”

You’re impossible to work with Rational Brain.

Rational Brain – You’re talking to someone who wants to be a soccer ball made out of her eye-lids and be called Wilson….you have your work cut out.

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

It’s now the next day.  I just got my period which explains a lot.

I don’t know if it’s my age or that I don’t exercise anymore, but my PMS has been off the charts these last few months.  Painful bloating accompanied by extreme fatigue and crabbiness.  I never had it this bad when I was younger, but I was in better shape back then.

I have to go to work to count all the candles and soaps that my friend is selling at my business.  This sucks.  I feel like shit.  And she wants her money so there’s that too that I have to contend with.

I better publish this shit before another day goes by.

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My Bike Hath Cometh

I’m looking at my new electric bicycle as we speak.  It’s standing in my bedroom all decked out with its tan leather seat and hand grips.  It’s so shiny and perfectly white and clean.

It’s not the first time I had a 2 wheeled vehicle in my bedroom.  The first time I did this, it didn’t exactly pan out.  I had to put my scooter out to pasture.  But second time’s a charm, right?

I can’t stop ogling it.

I had it delivered to work so I can save $100 on shipping and then I rode it home shortly after unpacking it.  The ride home was easier than I thought considering the current state of my fat ass.  but then again, it was only a mile.

Soon, I’ll have to try doing that with 430 miles.  My crotch will be humming a different tune I suspect.  Humming bloody murder.

Okay so, I have almost everything I need for my bicycle trip to Bar Harbor.  The stuff that I don’t have just yet is in the mail.  One major thing I need is a new shorter seat post which I ordered yesterday.  The post that came with the bike is built for a giant, something I wish I knew before I bought the $55 upgrade for a suspension seat but other than that, I’m in love with this bike.  It’s truly beautiful.  A work of art.

I wanted to take it out for a spin today but I’d most likely kill myself since the seat is up so high.

I’m always waiting for something….

I’ve been burning the candle from both ends these last few weeks.  I drank so many Bud Lights that I can no longer drink Bud Lights.  Ever again.

Either I drank too many Bud Lights or I’m going through my “change” because I completely switched to IPA’s and I HATE IPA’s.  And it happened overnight!  17 years of drinking Bud Lights only to switch to a beer I loathed during my whole drinking career.  Why do I not loath them anymore?  Why?

Two Roads Little Heaven is my new beer of choice.  As bitter as a grapefruit peel that one.

I can’t stop looking at my bike.  It’s just so lovely, so perfect (aside from the tall seat).  I want to stick a playing card in its spoke.

Here is a map of my journey to Bar Harbor:

All the campgrounds, motels, and bike shops are readily displayed so I can’t miss them.  Courtesy of the Bicycle Route Network app partnering with Google Maps.  I wouldn’t be going on this journey if not for this app.  I am a sublime idiot when it comes to following directions.

This trip is unlike any other that I went on.  You see, most of my trips involve a plane.  I buy a plane ticket that comes with a set date to travel on but with a journey such as this – a journey that doesn’t involve buying a ticket to far away lands….setting a date to “take off” is a greasy creature to capture.

Me – “I’ll do it tomorrow.  Yes, I’ll be ready tomorrow.”

Then tomorrow comes and I be like, “I’ll do it Tuesday.  Yes.  I’ll be ready by Tuesday.”

It doesn’t help that my Mother is against this trip.

I have to take this trip sometime this month.  My office manager is quitting by the end of the month (it’s a long story.  I won’t get into it until after she’s gone), so I need to take this trip while she’s still here to help.  Not to mention I don’t want to go when the weather starts cooling off (I don’t have a sleeping bag and I’m only bringing a silk liner).

And, if I don’t go now, I’ll never go.  I might have to miss Kristi’s bachelorette party but I’ll be able to make it to her wedding and my family reunion if I leave as soon as I get my short seat post in the mail.  Which means I’m leaving soon.  Really soon.  Completely unprepared physically, emotionally, and mechanically if something breaks down, I’ll not know how to fix it.

Most of the people I told about this trip all think that it’s some fantastic feat – a beauteous harrowing journey of divine coolness only partaken by people with guts.  But it’s not!  It’s the complete opposite!  I’m only going on this trip to get away for a bit, enjoy the country and camp out but mostly I’m going because I’ll regret it if I don’t.  I’m more scared of NOT going on this journey.  I’d rather make a shit ton of mistakes than do nothing.

Everyone’s making a big deal about this trip but to me, it’s not a big deal.  I’m excited and scared as hell, but in the grand scope of things, it’s no big deal at all.  And it’s only for a couple weeks.  No big deal.

However, next year for my cross-country venture, that’s a different bag of worms.

Last night as I was falling to sleep, a song kept repeating in my head.  It was a song that’s been around for a while.  Really catchy.  But then I realized the song was completely made up in my head while I was drifting off.  Two words I remember from that song.  They kept repeating over and over.  And those two words were Star and Tonic.  Star Tonic.

I just Googled Star Tonic and found out that it’s a type of marijuana strain.  I swear, I never heard of it before in my life.

 

 

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Melanie’s Mundane Life, or is it?

It’s been 10 days since I ordered my E-bike.

It’s strange how it feels like a piece of me is missing even though I never owned this piece of me in the first place.  But I understand.  I owned $2700 and that $2700 was a piece of me and now that it’s gone, I want my damn E-bike to compensate for my loss.  So in a round-a-bout way, yeah – my E-bike feels like it’s a part of me even though we were never formally acquainted.

It’s Friday.  It’s 10:21 AM.  And I don’t have to work.

I had a bad dream last night.  The world was ending and my mom wanted to stay here in town to be with her friends, but my dad wanted to get us to our cottage in Rhode Island.  He thought we had a better chance of surviving out there.  I agreed with him.

There’s really no right or wrong choice on whether to stay or to go.  It comes down to what kind of person you are in the end – when shit hits the fan, who are you?  Do you seek comfort amongst family and friends?  Or do you fuck everybody and do your own thing?

I guess I’m the type to fuck everybody and do my own thing.  Well, fuck everybody except my immediate family that is.  Because in the end, I’m a horrendous cynic and believe that everyone will fuck me over the first chance they get so I bess’ be on my way.

It’s my unfortunate reality.  There are people out there who believe otherwise, like my Mom, but I can’t see it.  All people ever do is use each other.

I had to go to Bozrah yesterday to massage one client.  I made it a habit of ordering food just before leaving to go home so it’s ready by the time I roll into Wallingford to pick it up after work.  And yesterday I ordered so much food.  So much…..

Egg drop soup, spring rolls, oshinko roll, philly roll, white tuna and cucumber roll, and an inari cucumber roll.

It’s a lot of freaking food.  It took me all night to eat it while playing my video game.  I loved every minute of it.

On my way back home from Bozrah yesterday, an hour drive, I didn’t listen to the radio, podcasts, or my audiobook – I instead watched the story of my book idea unfold in my minds-eye.  It was riveting.  Even while I was massaging, before I left to go home, I watched my story unfold – I didn’t want to end the massage because I was at a pivotal part in the story and didn’t want to break concentration.

The hero of my story, Chris Pratt, has finally made it to the center of “Dante’s Inferno” in his VR experience.  (Please read my previous post about my book idea to understand what I’m talking about).

So, he finally made it to the center and he learns everything there is to know about the true nature of his world.  I won’t get into explicit details, only that he finds out that his entire universe – him and everyone, everything in it – is nothing but a simulation meant to recreate historic events, help predict future events, and meet influential people of the past.

His “creators” created a perfect replica of their own universe, down to the last blade of grass and hair on a dogs head.  Chris Pratt was born 2500 years into the “creators” past – if that makes sense.

All this might be hard to follow, I’m hoping I explain it better in my book.  Chris Pratt is living in a simulated universe that is the perfect historic replica of his creators universe and Chris was born 2500 years before his creators made the simulated universe.

Leonardo DiCaprio is one of the creators.  He meets Chris Pratt in the center of “Dante’s Inferno” by transporting his image via virtual reality.

Leonardo DiCaprio – “It’s you!  It’s really You!”

Chris Pratt – “Yeah….it’s me alright.”

Leonardo DiCaprio – “Half the people of my world don’t believe you ever existed!  That you’re some fable, a made-up story.  This is unreal!  It’s unreal that you’re real!”

Chris Pratt – “Well, it turns out that I’m just a simulation so….can’t be real, can I?”  He slaps at his chest.

Leonardo DiCaprio – “No Chris, you’re not just a simulation.  You see, everything that happened in your world, happened in our world too.  If you exist here, you must have existed in real life!”

Chris Pratt – ………..

Leonardo DiCaprio – “But it turns out that you’re just a regular guy!  And a simple man at that.”

Chris Pratt – “Hey now, all my teachers told me I was special.”

Leonardo DiCaprio – “But you don’t have any special powers.  Not now anyway.  You only gain them after you come back from here simply because you learned how to manipulate the software….wait…..”

Everdeen – “I ‘spose that means your world is just as much a simulation as his.”

Everdeen is an old southern black woman from Alabama who found her way to the center of “Dante’s Inferno” after she died and Leonardo DiCaprio has been using her as a type of “Alexa” or “Siri” program to help answer questions.  Everdeen know’s everything.

Leonardo DiCaprio – “No.  No, it can’t be.  It can’t be.  Chris almighty, the simulationists were right.”

Leonardo DiCaprio – “Nobody can know about this.  Nobody can know about this!”

And he dissolves in a flash, back to his own simulated universe.

There’s a lot more to it than that.  I left out a TON of stuff, but you get the idea.  It’s a simulation of a simulation and it just keeps going down the line.

I think writing this book is the reason I was born.  If everything really is connected, and there’s a reason for everything and that reason is for us to evolve (like ayahuasca told me), then it makes sense that my job here on earth is to write this book.  Think about it.  I don’t want kids, I don’t want to get involved with anyone, I’m the most independent person that I know who owns a business that functions perfectly on its own – I basically have time to write it – I have no excuses not to.  And it’s coming to me so plainly and naturally.  It puts me in a trance, really.

It’s now 11:27.  I guess I should shower and go rollerblading or something.

It’s strange though….I’ve been writing this blog for about 8 years now and I never cared to make it “popular”.  I barely comment on other peoples blogs, I don’t dive into the blogging community by making new friends and promoting my writing – I like to stay hidden, buried in the depths to remain overlooked.  Why is this?  I think it’s so nobody can steal my book idea.  I’m the one who was meant to write it, and the universe knows it.

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The Trick to Confidence

In all the places I’ve traveled, from Thailand to Peru, my clothes always smelled fresh and clean after paying someone to wash them for me.  And I mean everywhere – even the poorest parts of Cambodia.  The kind of places where if a person owns a washing machine (not even a dryer), they’re in business.

“How do they do it?”  I always wondered.  I thought it was some exotic trade secret, or maybe they scrubbed the clothes by hand?  Pounding them with huge tropical flower pedals and incensing them with delectable oils.

I now know their secret.  They were using a washing machine less than 30 years old.

Our old faithful broke down a few days ago so Pop had to buy us a new machine.  I can’t get over how good everything smells that comes out of it.

Last week I slumped my head down into the well of our old washer and gave it a whiff.  It smelled like an old damp swamp sock.

Not anymore.  Melly shall smell no more!

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

The woman who’s suing me broke up with her boyfriend recently.  How do I know this?  Because he called to tell me.  Apparently she cheated on her husband 6 times with big beefy black men – a character trait I should know about.

Her ex-boyfriend also knows the guy who runs the Cheshire Harald and they want to write a first page cover story about me.  Apparently the guy who runs our little town’s paper thinks I’m awesome.  I swear I never met him.

Her ex-boyfriend wants us to talk and to be friends.  I said no to both the news story, and to us being friends.

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

I went on the Cheshire Harald website the other day while wasting time until my client arrived.  A 34 year old woman from my town died.  “Who is this woman?”  I wondered.

Her obituary didn’t say much.  Just that she was an EMT and is survived by so-and-so.  She looked healthy and happy in her EMT uniform on her obituary pic.

I searched her on Facebook.  We have 11 or so mutual friends.

Then I googled her.

First thing that popped up when I googled her name was 10-15 articles all depicting her arrest.  Her and her friend robbed their mutual friends of over $15,000 in jewelry.  She looked like a drugged out mess in her mug shot.  The guy she was with looked like a real dirt bag.

My findings conclude that she most likely OD’d from fentanyl laced heroine.  Either purposely or not.

Her linkedin account said she was unemployed.  Why have a Linkedin account to post to the world that you’re unemployed?

Internet is a cruel truth-teller even after we die.  I never knew her but that’s how I’ll remember her.

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

I had a realization yesterday while I was massaging my client.  That’s the one thing I miss about giving massages – the realizations.

Two weeks ago during my pool league match, They pit me against an older woman who hit her prime in the 80’s so she still looked straight out of the 80’s.  She was a level 2, just like me.

Anyway, she kicked my ass in both games.  I was devastated and my team felt my devastation.

So last Tuesday, 3 days ago, I decided to laugh it off no matter what happens.  I made up my mind to play my best game and have fun while doing it.  I made it a point specifically to decide on this before I drove down to the billiards hall.

We can tell ourselves to do anything, but we don’t actually listen to our own advice.  We’re too preoccupied with habits and thinking patterns.  But last Tuesday I bypassed my habits and thinking patterns so to make room for this new belief, this new perception and fully divulge myself in it.

It’s about paving the way for choice.  And putting myself aside to make room for it.

We can make choices.  We can decide on anything.  But there’s more to it than just that.  This is where people get confounded and stop believing they are in control.

I joined a pool league so I can drink beer, play pool, and enjoy a little healthy competition while doing it.  I didn’t join to make friends.  So when I first arrive early at the pool hall, my main aim is to grab a beer and practice.  I get so pissed when people want to chat during my precious practice time – it’s uber annoying.   I NEED to practice.

But this is part of my problem – if I make a choice to relax, have fun, and play my best – there’s no room to get pissed at people who want to talk to me.  By allowing myself to get pissed, I’m not in control.  The “choice” I made beforehand is invalid, forgo, forfeit.  I can’t let go of past beliefs.  Beliefs that tell me I need to practice in order to get better and I can only have fun and relax as long as I’m playing well – ergo, I NEED to practice, not chat, before a match.

People who play pool regularly know that 99% of the game is built on confidence.  The remaining 1% is skill.

I can’t be confident if I believe I’m lacking in practice – that’s a dichotomy.  So right off the bat, I’m failing at the choice I made to play well.  I’m failing the minute I arrive to the pool hall and see a swarm of people making their way over to me.  I can’t play my best game if I’m not confident to do so.  And according to my old belief, I need to practice in order to feel confident.

Some choices are easy, some are hard.  A simple yes or no, where to eat, what color to paint your walls with – those are open and shut.  Not letting the Cheshire Herald do a cover story on me?  An easy no.

But choosing not to get angry anymore, choosing not to drink alcohol anymore, the choice to do better in school, be a better person, exercise regularly….these are open-ended choices.  They have more moving parts.

My choice to relax, have fun, and play my best game has a lot of moving parts that I wouldn’t have known about if I didn’t make that choice to begin with.

The law of attraction comes into play.  The more moving parts that can trip you up, the more likely you will fail in the choices you make.  Everything must match up with your choice.  It’s not about “frequencies” or any of that bullshit, it’s about matching your unconscious beliefs with your current choices.

All you need to do is keep reminding yourself.

My friend Chris started talking to me as soon as I arrived at the pool hall.

Rational Brain – “Remember to have fun Mel.” I told myself. “Here, drink this beer, it’ll help.”  Yes the beer did help.

Me – “But what about practice?”

Rational Brain – “If you think you need to practice, that means you’re not confident.  Stay confident no matter what and have fun no matter what.”

Me – “Having fun feels very similar to having confidence.”

Rational Brain – “Yes!  You can trick your brain into having confidence as long as you’re having fun.”

I whooped my opponents ass in both games and won myself another patch. Next week I’ll have to sandbag.

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

It’s now many days later.  I ordered my Ebike July 10th and now it’s July 16th.  I can NOT wait to get it.  I’m watching YouTube video’s about bike touring and seeing all that can go wrong.  I’m going to need some workable knowledge in case I need to fix my motor or repair a flat.  One guy blew out his throttle 6 times in one bike tour, something I know nothing about repairing.

Zen and the Art of Ebike maintenance.  I wish that was a book.

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

I’m trying to spend all my barter network money so I can get out of their system.  I just bought a $1000 pool cue with my barter network money.  The case it came with is $300 alone.  I got an OB cue, a high performance non-deflective cue.  It’s what the pro’s use.

I’m really excited to use it.  Sal, the owner of Shooter’s (where I picked up the cue), let me practice on it a bit but I need more hands-on time to really understand the difference between it and my old cue that Erika gave me.

I know for certain that break cue’s make a huge difference in the way each stick breaks the balls up, but a players cue?  Not so sure about that.  Why $1000?  It’s just a stick?!

I’m hoping none of the other teams catch on that it’s a $1000 stick.  My lips are sealed.  No lever 2 player should be caught dead with a stick that pricey, or they’re no longer a level 2.  I’ll tell Nicole, but that’s it.  Nicole is my team captain and she became a very good friend of mine.  She knows my brother and her sister graduated high school with me.

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The Happy Blues

Earlier today I was watching Comedians riding in cars getting coffee and so I thought to myself, “what a great idea!”  And so here I am sitting in Cheshire Coffee drinking an iced decaf latte.

I haven’t done this in forever.  The last time I sat at a coffee house was to do my taxes.

Dave Chapelle was vaping his electronic cigarette in the coffee shop all through-out his chat with Jerry.  He made it look natural and necessary.  But if I did that, I’d get bitch slapped.  Not only by the patrons but by my close friends too.

So instead I sneak tokes of it in the bathroom like some crack addict but no, not Chapelle.   Some people have everything.

I guess I should write a little update on my life whist I’m here…..

Okay, I’m just going to come right out and say it.  My life is fucking fantastic.  Fucking fantastic!

Here it is, a beautiful summer day in July – noon on a random Tuesday and as always, I’ve got nothin’ to do.  I don’t have to work.  I don’t have to do a damn thing!  If I do show my face at work, everyone asks me, “Melanie, what the hell are you doing here?”

It takes a while getting used to.  Normally I would lay in bed, order take-out and either watch a bunch of Netflix movies or play my video game.  It takes a while to actually want to venture out.  Even just to the coffee house.  It’s like I caught a small agoraphobic virus or something of the sorts.  Plus I can’t vape in here.

The thing with being happy is that I get dumb.  Really really stupid.  It’s like when you’re in a dark room for a very long time and you’re just emerging from it, the bright light is too much for you – all you can think about and see is the brightness of the light.  It makes you confused, unable to make out your surroundings or the situation.  You kind of just want to crawl back inside your hole so you can see better.

That’s me right now.  Wanting to crawl back into my hole.  I’m fidgety, yawny, I want to eat and drink and vape and do anything to make myself feel more like when I’m in my hole and not in the great big world of relentless wonder in which I find myself in – with time and money to spare!

It’s too much and I’m not big enough to get a handle on it.

I hate happy people.  I hate them because I think they’re all full of shit – ain’t nobody that happy.  Not ever.  I hate liars and fake people and happy people are both of those things. I want to punch them until they snap out of it.  “No you’re wrong!  Your life sucks just as bad as the rest of us!”

Unless they are stupid, then it’s okay to be happy.  I actually love hanging out with stupid happy people.

There ARE exceptions….like when a person accomplishes something.  If they get awarded or recognized.  When they tell you why they’re so happy, they do it with a proud embarrassed smile on their face while shaking their head in disbelief.  THOSE people are real and not liars.  They’ve got a reason.

The thing with me is….I don’t trust being happy.  It makes me stupid and uncomfortable and even socially awkward when I’m happy.

Why am I happy?  I’m about to buy my electric bicycle.  I haven’t done it yet….I’m prolonging it.  It’s like, I’m happy in knowing that I will buy it any minute but then after I buy it – like a second after I buy it, I’ll be broke again with buyers remorse.  I might even be depressed.

Okay, screw it.  I’m buying it.

I need to take my Bar Harbor trip this year because it’s a pre-cursor to my cross-country adventure next year.  I’ll be getting my feet wet with this Bar Harbor adventure.  I HAVE to buy it and this is the perfect time to do it.  It’s literally a life-long dream of mine.

I just bought it.  Oh god oh god oh god.  What have I done!?  Shit.

They build, test, and inspect the bike in California so it takes a good 2-3 weeks until they actually ship it to me.  By the time I get it, I’ll be able to take my Bar Harbor trip.

I always have to make myself uncomfortable somehow, it’s part of my habit of wanting to crawl back into my hole.  And I found that by spending money – like practically ALL of my money, is the fastest, easiest way to achieve misery.  Not only misery, but absolute terror.  The kind that sends pings of pain to your chest.

I’m embellishing.  I’m actually okay financially – really okay even after this.  And if I’m not okay, all I have to do is sell 40 signature couples massages on groupon and I’m good to go.  It’s just that big unnecessary purchases always make me cringe.  As they rightfully should, or I’d be in deep shit.  I’m not a rich person.

Anyway, I accomplished what I came here to do so now maybe I’ll rollerblade a bit before my pool league.  I’m feeling less happy now that I spent money on that bike so hopefully I’ll stop being so god-dammed dumb.

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Another Change of Plans

Yesterday I had a 45-minute client scheduled at 6PM.  I had to leave here at 4PM because traffic can be a real bitch and after the massage, it takes me an hour to get home so listen……I was away from 4PM until 8:15PM for a 45-minute massage which Groupon pays me $18 for.

Gas to get up there costs around $7.  So for $11, plus a $17 tip, I work for 4.25 hours.  But get this….earlier yesterday, Dawns client didn’t show up for her appointment which deducts an automatic $15 of that $28 I made.  So overall I made $13 and an earful of Dawn spouting how shitty it is to only make $15 for sitting on her ass. “It’s hardly worth my time” She says.  Well, sorry Dawn, but the place is going Down Dawn.

And today I do it all over again.

Fuck this shit man.  Fuck it.  You hear me?

I guess I should tell Dawn we’re going down but she has 4 clients next week and I’ll be dammed if I’ll be the one massaging them.  I’ll tell her right after those 4 clients.  Plus I’m pissed she gave me grief that I paid her $15 for doing nothing for a half hour.  Honestly, it’s going to feel good telling her we’re closing.

Anyway, this turn of events changes things.  It not only free’s up my schedule (which was already pretty free to begin with), but I’ll not need to buy another bio mat for Cheshire – I can use the bio mat from Bozrah.  And since I don’t have to buy anything, I can afford my electric bicycle.  And since we’re closing Bozrah, I have time to go on my Bar Harbor adventure.

We have 51 unredeemed Groupons in Bozrah.  After next week, we’ll have about 46.  I’m guessing 6 out of that 46 won’t even redeem their voucher.

I should’ve moved Sound Alchemy Massage into Cheshire from the start but I just wanted to try something new and exciting – I wanted to see for myself.  I wouldn’t have listened to anyone telling me it was a bad idea.  Nothing horrible has happened from it anyway except losing a small amount of money.

And I have this weird tendency of making myself feel just a tad uncomfortable.  I feel like there is no progress in comfort.  Another way of looking at it is that when I feel comfortable, it just means I’m too scared to push forward.  I settle in my comfort zone where I know I’ll be safe.  Life becomes encased in a thick layer of fat and my senses are dulled down into cankles.  Days slip by fast and flubbery.  Like trying to hold onto a buttery eel.

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I improved on my book idea.  You know how I had two book ideas?  Well, now I combined them into one solid story.  I won’t tell you how I did it but they are perfectly combined into one cohesive story.

Fuck it, I’ll tell you.  I really really want to write about virtual reality.  That’s the main reason for combining both stories – so I can have some fun in the VR world.

So here’s the premise:

Chris Prat is dying of pancreatic cancer.  Even in the future, it’s one of the most deadliest, rapid sicknesses you can get.  He can go at any time.

There’s a way for him to prolong his life and get everything in order before his passing by undergoing the VR procedure which compresses time.  The deeper he submerges himself in his subconscious, he can stretch the rest of his life into millennia.

The VR experience is also a place where it’s possible to heal yourself.  But it’s a gamble since the deeper you submerge yourself, the less chance you have of ever finding your way back.  It can turn into an endless nightmare.

I concocted a whole backstory to this VR experience but I won’t get into that now – I’ll save it for the book.

Chris is the first person to ever reach his core spirit.  Not only did he reach his core, but he was able to do it with his mind still intact.  Most people go insane before reaching the bottom layers of their subconscious.

At his core is where he finds profound insights to life and to reality.

It’s a book about love, philosophy, and super hero’s.  It’s basically the birth of a super hero but instead of being born on Krypton, being bitten by a spider, or born a mutant – all my hero did was find himself.

I suppose in my own weird way, I’m trying to find myself too.  And I’ll never find her when I’m comfortable.

After my Bar Harbor adventure, I’m going to start writing this book.  This is the story I was waiting for this whole time.

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