Keep on Keeping on

I’m legitimately happy these days.  Mainly because I stopped thinking about the lawsuit.  I shouldn’t even bring it up.  But the thing is, when something bothers me, I don’t shy away from it.  I allow the emotions to sink in and I wallow.  I feel the full spectrum of it, all the emotions have to offer.

Emotions, to me, are equivalent to experience.  And since you only learn from experience (via an emotional connection), sinking in and not denying yourself the opportunity to experience all the shit storms life throws at you, there’s no point in living at all.

I’ll be a better person in the end.  Not only better, but happier.  I’ll have all my mental faculties in check since I didn’t deny the truth or dull my senses.  And I’ll never get the Mean Red’s.

We’re subconsciously driven by pain and pleasure.  This drive is so powerful that it’s not just in the subconscious do we experience it (or not experience it I should say), but we consciously decide pleasure over pain on a daily basis sometimes knowingly and sometimes not.  And when things get too tough to handle, our brains shut down the neural pathways associated with the pain, virtually all of them in some catatonic cases.

You become a non-thinking vegetable.  Non imaginative, non-creative, boring, defensive, stupid, scared vegetable.

I’m not much of a fighter.  I go with the flow.  I don’t even fight off nasty emotions that normal people struggle with.  I feel EVERYTHING.

A nasty thought or emotion is like a parasite entering your skull and feeding off whatever supplies its nutrients.  It’s a battle.  But if you don’t fight it, there is no battle.  And the initial nutrients that first entertained the idea eventually run dry once you turned it over in your mind so many times like kneading dough.

The trick is to always land on hope.  And once you convinced yourself there is more hope than there is worry, you can let it go.  You don’t even decide to let it go, it happens on its own.

And that’s where I’m at right now.

I consulted the I-Ching a while back, months and months ago, before I received the papers that I’ve been served.  And the I-Ching said something bad will happen in August but it’ll clear up shortly after.

So I’m thinking August is the month this will all go down.  My big apocryphal battle that took 3 years leading up to.

Anyway, until then, I’m going to keep doing what I’ve been doing because whatever it is, it’s working for me.  I’m happy.

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It’s Life, Actually

It’s June now.  Good old summer is here.  And I’m laying in bed at 8PM on a Saturday.

Okay okay, I know I’m being lazy, but I don’t do this all the time.  I’ve been really social lately, more so than I imagined I’d be.  I’m actually proud of myself for it.  And I’ve been staying true to exercise.  I’ve been hiking and rollerblading just like I promised I’d do.

I’m keeping up on myself.  Making sure I don’t slouch my life away.  It’s hard not to be a slouch when I don’t have to work anymore.  I have to make a conscious effort just to get up and at least go for a walk.  “It’s just a walk Melanie.  You can do that.”

And then after my walk, I somehow have a surplus of motivation to get in touch with people I haven’t seen in a while.  Everybody I ditched from when I had to work 70 hours a week.  It always happens after I take a walk.  A walk that I have to make a conscious effort to take.


I’ve been redefining my definition of love.  I always thought love meant that you cared about someone.  That you look out for them and keep their best interests at heart.  But this definition depresses me because it’s the “movie” kind of love.  It’s not real.  Assuming a person cares about you is the worst assumption you can make.  It sets you up for the worst kind of heart break imaginable.

In the end, all people care about is what they can gain from you.  What you offer them.  And if they like what you’re selling, they’ll love you for it.  Heck, they might even become addicted to it.  They may become in need of it and when they reach that phase of need, most people consider that love.

No matter what angle I look at it from, this is it.  The harsh reality.

I’m honing in on the unreciprocated kind of love.  The one-sided deal.  I love people, but in my own way.  The kind of love I’m talking about can handle rejection.

I’ve narrowed down what love is in one sentence;  Being happy that a person is alive (or has lived).

You don’t want or need anything from them, but just the mere fact that they are alive, brings you joy.  And therefore love.  It’s not even unrequited love because you don’t want them to love you back.  Sometimes even preferring that they don’t in some instances.

“Just do your thang man, I love ya bro.”

It’s the most basic kind of love.  It’s the kind of love people have for movie stars they’ll never meet, or fallen hero’s that died for a cause – you love them for merely existing.  “Thank you for your service” kind of love.

A new baby has entered the world.  They contribute nothing, drain you of money and sleep, but you still manage to love them merely for existing.

It’s a primal, earthly love that is lost to us in youth.  When we stop buying Teen Beat magazine and pining over Ralph Macchio.

Granted, you should never idolize anyone, I’m not saying that.  But you can appreciate their existence from afar.

After puberty, most kids stop appreciating from afar when they learn other needs can be met in closer vicinity.  Needs such as sex, or an egoic need that makes them feel good about themselves.  It has nothing to do with appreciation and it’s all about what they can get.

It’s like they stopped dreaming and started settling.  They settled for immediate gratification obtained through the use of another person.  And if that person stops procuring what they need, they get dumped.

I’m trying my hand at the unattached kind of love.  It’s like hippie love, but I’d rather think of it as the most basic primal love there is.  A love that we lost interest in since it’s not obtainable.  It can’t be controlled.

You love a person for merely existing, so let them exist.  Don’t interfere.  Add to their life, not destroy it by means of control or jealousy.   Because you’re afraid of losing them.  Afraid of losing someone that defines your own existence.

If you love someone, let them exist.  Appreciate them.

If I can find someone who’s able to love this way, I’ll marry them and never let him out of my site.  You can’t trust those damn hippies with their enigmatic gravitational energy.


The doctor thinks my Dad might have prostate cancer.

My brother – “Don’t google it.”

He know’s how much I like to Google things.  But I took his advice and have not done so.

My Pop went in for a routine blood check and found out he has a large number of a certain type of blood cell associated with prostate cancer.  The doctor wants to wait a month to see if they rise again.

I’ve always been a proponent of unattached love.  When I’m at my strongest, I’m invincible to all heartache.  I don’t let anything beat me down.

But that’s never been the case with my parents.  I’m attached to them big time.  I need them.  I’ll never be able to let go.  So this whole prostate thing, it can’t happen.

I’m not Googling it.  I can’t.  I won’t.

I can’t do this thing they call life.




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It’s 4 in the morning and I can’t sleep

I’m normally a sleep junkie.  Certifiably reliable in the sack.  But here it is at 4 in the morning and I’m trying to piece words together.

I’m not listening to my audiobook tonight, that’s partly why I’m not asleep yet.  The other part is that I spent about 5 or 9 hours researching what bike to buy for my cross-country adventure.

But before I get into that, I’ll start from the beginning.

I’m miserable.  Dog gone freaking miserable.  If it weren’t for my friends kicking my heals (and the sweet sweet allure of alcohol), I’d be in bed curled up in a fetal position all afternoon.

I sound like a little bitch.  A whiny, spoiled crybaby – but I can’t do a goddamned thing if I’m being sued.  What is there to do?  Mope.  I’m eloping with moping.

I lost my happy and the only thing that cheers me up to some degree is the thought of going far far away down the Californian Pacific coast highway, singing about rusted tin roofs.

In the last few hours I decided to first buy a Harley, then I wanted a Triumph Street Twin, then I downgraded even more to wanting a simple motoped, YouTube said Motopeds are shitty bikes so now I’m in the market for an electric bicycle.

I went from wanting an iconic Harley Davidson to an electric bicycle.

But I can’t buy one.  I can’t do anything.

I’m saturated with boring personality syndrome as of late.  BPS for short.  I think it has to do with listening to audiobooks before bedtime.  Instead of my active imagination keeping me enthralled, looping pretend conversations in my head, being the hero of an ISIS attack – I fall to sleep in mind-numbing blissful routine.  Practically morphine induced.  Audiobooks work like a drug.

Think about it.  Drugs are mind altering, right?  Isn’t that the whole purpose of listening to an audiobook?!

So I’ve been on drugs unknowingly for a while now.

My brain is dead partly from that.  And the crushing realization of a pending lawsuit against my business that cost me a decade of my life to build.

Damn, I forgot why I wanted to write this post.  I thought it out in my head beforehand but I lost it.

Melanie, what ARE you doing?

No, I think I wrote what I set out to write.


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Sphincter Problems

I’m laying in bed at 3AM completely grossed out with myself.

I fell asleep around midnight and woke up a few hours later with a horrible taste in my mouth.  Only, the taste wasn’t in my mouth exactly, it was stuck in the back of my throat.  I went to clear the back of my throat and that’s when I learned that’s where the contents of my stomach migrated.

Ugh God.  Oh God no.  Why God?

It’s as disgusting as it sounds.  No, it’s worse than it sounds.  Much worse.  The textures and the smells wafting up through your nasal cavity, the slight burn of acid.

If you’ve never experienced this yourself, pray you never do.

I swallowed and nothing happened.  My stomach contents where still caught in the back of my throat.  Like an over-flowing pool.  Not only that, but swallowing was disgusting.

I never knew that clearing the back of my throat with an “eh-hem” happens as far back as the esophageal sphincter.  In fact, I thought that whole throat clearing business happened in the windpipe and not the food pipe.  I’m so confused.

But when I tried clearing my throat, it made matters worse.  Much worse with a simple “eh-hem”.

Don’t make that sound when your sphincter won’t close properly.  For the love of god don’t do it.

I sat up in bed and covered my mouth with my hand.

“What new hell is this?”

“I don’t feel nauseous.  I don’t feel sick at all!”

“It must be cancer.  Esophageal cancer.  The kind of cancer that makes your throat stop working.”

I started imagining how the surgery would go.  If I’ll have to wear a bag of some sort that held my stomach contents and then have to manually empty it each night with some kind of suctioning device that I have to push down my throat.

Goddamn imagination.  I smite you!

“It’s not food poisoning.  If it was poisoning, it’ll be coming out both ends.  Not only that but I’d feel real sick.  What the hell is happening?”

Rational Brain – “It’s most likely acid reflux.”

“But I never had acid reflux!  I never experienced this before and I didn’t eat anything I normally wouldn’t eat!”

Rational Brain – “What about that head cheese you had earlier?  And those 3 smoked meat sticks from the butcher?”

“But they were fresh from the butcher…..”

Rational Brain – “You ate a hamburger and a side of beans before you went to sleep, plus a shit ton of chocolate and washed it down with milk.  Milk mixed with a quarter pound of head cheese would make anyone gag.  What the hell is wrong with you?  I thought you wanted to lose weight?”

“Let’s Google this shit.”

Obesity can cause acid reflux.  And chocolate before bedtime can cause it.  They say to keep your head elevated and chow down on antacids.

I didn’t go hiking today because my feet were still sore from walking in Italy (I wore my trusty 7-year old worn out sneakers [no longer trusty]).  So instead I went to my brothers favorite butcher shop in Meriden to buy head cheese and meat sticks.  I gobbled up the head cheese, no, more like inhaled it in 10 seconds flat.  It was a bit vinegary.  And ate 3 meat sticks.

This is the first time I did anything like that.

Gross story long, I ended up throwing up.

Moral of the story:

I need to lose weight, not eat chocolate before bedtime and never eat head cheese or meat sticks again.

I’m going to take 2 more tums and see what happens when I lay back down.  Luckily my brother has all this stuff in the bathroom already.  I hope it’s not hereditary.  I never needed to take theses medicines before.  What does Imodium do?  Do I need Imodium?  Well, it’s there if I need it.

I mainly hate to think this is age related, you know?

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I’m back from Italy!!

I got back Saturday morning at 5AM and didn’t fully recover from jet lag until today (Tuesday).

I was so tired yesterday that I opted for a nap at 5:30 in the evening, and didn’t wake up until 7:30AM this morning.  That’s 14 hours of dead sleep.  I needed it.  And I dreamt of a scarab beetle which is a good sign.  I didn’t even know what a scarab beetle was until my dream clearly stated that it was indeed a scarab and none other.

I returned to my normal shlog of worries when I got home.  I think I’ll be okay in the money department (I think, but not 100% sure), I’m mostly worried about that Goddamned lawsuit.  I haven’t heard anything from anyone!

I prayed when I was in Florence.  I found a huge church that didn’t require an entrance fee or a line to get in and knelt down to pray.

Me praying – “I’m sorry I never go to church to pray but just in case this works, can you drop the lawsuit against me?  No wait, that sounds really selfish.  I also pray for my family, my mom, dad, brother, niece, her baby…..I pray for health and happiness to all of them.  Okay, now can you drop the lawsuit against me?  Oh shit…..this isn’t working, is it.  The more I pray, the more I sound like an asshole.  How long have I been praying?  Where’s Jill?  I bet she thinks I’m a religious zealot for praying.  Especially for praying this long.  Okay I think that’s enough for now.  When I get to the Vatican I’ll do better.”

When I got to the Vatican, there’s no place to kneel or pray.  It’s shoulder to shoulder with everyone looking up at Michelangelo’s masterpiece.  That’s in the Sistine Chapel.  The actual church of the Vatican is yet another long line, shoulder to shoulder inside St. Peter’s Basilica.  We all agreed to skip that one.

The Vatican is not what I expected.  I thought it was a large open space like an amusement park.  Only instead of rides, they have churches, chapels, steeple’s, fountains, a predominant gift shop in the center.  You’d be able to get pictures with smiling nuns and archbishops wearing their pointy hats.  Hop in one of the many confessional booths and for a small stipend, be absolved of all your sins.  Check out the modest dwellings of God’s most humblest servants…you know, that sort of thing.

But it’s not open at all and I didn’t see any smiling nuns.  They don’t let you leave the museum once you’re in it.  You’re hustled inside after standing in line (first you have to find the correct line) and then you keep walking.  And walk some more.  Shoulder to shoulder with other people who are walking behind you, and in front of you.  You curse at those stopping to take pictures – those who hold up the line.

You can’t read the inscriptions on anything or you’ll get trampled.

I’m not a person who enjoys crowds.  I tend to keep this tidbit to myself, and I do a pretty good job of it, but friends take notice when they see me standing by the exit of a crowded place.

I did see a lot of Egyptian art and a few mummy’s which surprised me because, well, what the hell do they have to do with the Catholic church?!

I saw a homeless man sitting outside on the hot pavement leaning his back against the Vatican wall – makes you wonder just how “holy” the place really is.

I sound awful.  Truly and dreadfully awful.  But I also seen a few old women looking haggard and dehydrated trying to get a few coins from the tourists standing in line.  They held out their shabby little cups and shakily pleaded, “Help” or “Please”.  Until they got shooed away by military men with their finger on the trigger of a semi-automatic (their finger was always on the trigger, not just to scare away old lady’s).

But I mean, the Vatican HAS to have some refuge for these people, right?  Hold on, let me look it up….yeah, they do.  Thanks to Pope Francis, the newest Pope!  He’s cracking down on all the scoundrels who use the Vatican’s bank for the sole purpose of tax evasion too.  He closed 4,000 accounts already.  He’s the real deal.  Best Pope yet.

Totally off subject.  Where was I?  Ah yes, my trip to Italy.

The best part was strolling around Rome in my pajama’s and drinking beer that I hid in a brown paper bag.  I’m a simple person.  Some say I’m too simple.

On one of these outings, where I was strolling a nearby park, my travel mate, my office manager, asked me why I haven’t blogged about the trip yet.

Me – “You know about my blog?”

I haven’t told anyone about my blog in the longest time.  I made a promise not to.  I was so careful…I didn’t believe her until she gave me proof.

Apparently it happened during one of my beer binging nights (so it could’ve been any night really).  When I was telling her that I shoot video’s of my trips.  I must have used her phone to pull up one of my blog video’s.  I’m actually narcissistic when it comes to those videos.  I love when people watch them.

The scary thing is, I have no recollection of this happening.  But showing a video of a former trip is something I would totally do.

The thing with having your friends read your blog is, they think everything is about them.  All that I write about is inspired by them.  It can be something so completely innocent, but just seeing their name, or assuming their name, can bring an unwanted feeling of….”oh shit, is she about to write something horrible about me?”

It’s a HORRIBLE feeling!  And having that fear in the back of your mind while reading my blog will cause anyone to assume the worst.  And in turn, hate me for it.

People who either trust me or have a healthy dose of self-esteem can stomach reading my blog.  The rest don’t leave it to chance.  They opt out.

Would I opt out too if I were them?  No.  I’d want to hang out with them more to see what they write about me and if they don’t mention me I’d be like, WTF man?  I’m not important enough?  That probably means I have the self-esteem to stomach it, but not the trust.  Ultimately I would stop reading it entirely because it doesn’t involve me.

I can write a lot about my trip to Italy.  How we were nearly thrown out of both hotels (my fault entirely both times), how Jill’s mother thought she lost me inside the Sistine Chapel (I could be found near the exit), snapping an ass pic of the statue of David, the best spaghetti I ever eaten, stealing rocks at the colosseum, almost getting myself killed inside the Casablanca airport by two large Moroccan women (I’ll save that for a different post).

We were searched at least 3 times before being allowed on a plane to the United States from Morocco.  Since it’s mostly a Muslim country, security was extra tight but only when flying to the states.  I’ve never seen it like that anywhere else.  Absolutely no water bottles on the plane.  All laptops and iPads must be checked.  All passengers patted down as they boarded the flight.  I kept it light and simple with Jill’s mom.  “This is great!  I feel so much safer now that they’re being so thorough.  It’s one thing we can thank Trump for.”

I was responsible for Jill’s mom in getting her to Italy and back home again safely.  I tried my best to keep her calm but by the end of our last flight when we were safe and sound at the JFK baggage claim, her exhaustion got the better of her and freaked out a bit when I had to run back to the bathroom to fetch my phone where I forgot it.  It was the first time I had to leave her side and she nearly buckled in my absence.

We walked a lot in Italy.  I didn’t mind it since I’m working on getting in shape again.  It was a physically demanding trip and traveling is emotionally taxing especially when you’re not used to it.  We had some crazy long layovers and this little lady kept up just fine up until that point.

It was funny when we came up to the Capital building in Rome.  It’s an ancient building, huge.  With sculptures and fountains and pillars.  I thought of our little White House back home and compared it to their Capital building and thought..”The USA never looked so small.”

Rome’s streets are clean and safe.  So clean in fact, that I need to look up where they put their trash bags.  New York has their trash bags in the street to be picked up by the garbage men.  But not in Rome.  Rome has no garbage outside their establishments.  It’s really puzzling.

It was a good trip, I’m glad I got to see all those things now while I’m young.  I tell you, people always say to travel while you’re young – this is the first trip I took where that makes perfect sense.  It’s a lot easier when you’re young to do these things.


Anyway, today I had a student from CCMT (Connecticut center of massage therapy) come in to interview me.  It’s part of the program, to interview an owner of a massage business.

You want to hear something crazy?  Ten years ago, I was interviewing the woman who owned In Touch, the massage business that was here before my business moved in.  I interviewed the owner and decided I didn’t like her much.  Didn’t like her at all actually.  But there was something about that location that felt familiar.  Like I was going to end up working there.  It didn’t make any sense to me at the time because I told myself I would never work for that woman, ever.

And there I was interviewing a student today at the old In Touch, where I conducted my own interview ten years prior to some bitch.

It’s funny how things turn out.

I’m still entering the beginning phases of my retirement.  For the past couple days, I actually got to hang out with friends which never happens.  One of them even fixed my moped and got it working.

Today, Tuesday afternoon, I was zipping up and down my street on a moped.  Being one of those annoying people who got a new toy that makes a lot of noise but are too scared to take it out on the main strip.

I’m a 37 year old woman living at home with her parents, semi-retired with no real job, who has the time to zip up and down her street on a Tuesday afternoon on a moped.  I can’t explain why, but this reminds me of the feeling I had in Rome when I was strolling the streets in my PJ’s nursing a beer.

Something about it is so freeing, so carefree.  It’s a feeling I long for over and over again but it’s so rarely obtainable.

That is until now…..May 1st was the first day of my retirement but it really didn’t happen until the 7th.  Then a week later, my office manager went away to start her trip and I had to go to work to take her place.  Then it was my turn to meet her in Florence and I stressed about my financial situation until beer soothed it away.  And now here I am, I’m back home.

This retirement thing hasn’t really sunk in yet.  It’s May 30th, 30 days after the start of my retirement but really I only had about a week of it.  It’s hard to enjoy anyway when I’m worried about money.  Even harder to enjoy knowing I’m being sued.

I have no clue what’s going on with that.  My newest fantasy as of late is for those 3 women to drop the lawsuit.  My insurance companies won’t cover it and I’ve got no assets, so they get nothing.  If they hired a class action lawyer, she’s not going to waste her time.

Maybe it’s already been dropped?

I HAVE to not think about it.  You don’t understand.  If I think about it, I’ll drive myself into the mean Blue’s.  The meanest blue’s imaginable.  On par with heartbreak.

Today, after I gave that interview to the CCMT student, I found myself with nothing to do.  I didn’t want to watch TV, I didn’t want to nap because I already slept for 14 hours, I beat my video game, I didn’t feel like blogging or calling anyone.  I had nothing to do but instead of resting and enjoying my free time, my mind automatically jumped to the nearest thing to worry about.

The worry I felt, it acted like a rope connecting myself to the mainland – to salvation.  If I let it go, I would find myself drifting away uncontrollably.  I had to keep myself steady by worrying about my business, about money, about getting sued.  It was the only thing that made me feel safe.  Like I was in control.

When I have free time on my hands, my mind shifts into a dark place.  It’s the first time I’m cognizant to witness it happen.  It’s so hard to explain and I doubt anyone will have any idea what I’m talking about, but that old saying just popped into my head…..”Idle hands are the devils playthings” or something like that.

I always need to be doing something to distract myself from my worry.  But even when I distract myself, the worry is still there, it doesn’t vanish, but it doesn’t hit me as hard.  It’s tolerable.

If I have a problem, I have to fix it.  I can’t sit around doing nothing, I have to fix it.  My unconscious won’t let me relax.  Something is wrong.  And the more free time I have, the more likely the mean Blue’s will appear.  Because I can’t stop.  This won’t stop.

When will it stop?

As I look ahead at the future of my business, I’m sure that after the lawsuit (months after), there will be a recovery period and then the worry will ebb.

This is only the beginning of my retirement too.  I’m not acclimated to having free time.  It almost feels like I’m sinking, I don’t trust it.  And can you blame me?  I hate giving massages and yet at the same time, I need to give massages.  To feel like I’m in control.

I’ve worked so hard for this day to happen and it’s here!  And I paid $43,000 of debt off in one year!  And I just got back from Italy!  How many good things have to happen until I can eliminate this gruesome affliction?

Video games act like a medicine.  Hiking too and blogging.  Not to mention beer.  The more I think about it, every activity that I find enjoyable, is enjoyable because they distract me.  The more power something has over my attention, the more of it I want because without it, I’m sinking.  I sink until I find the rope attached to the mainland.  I’m slowly reeling myself in towards salvation, towards madness.

Okay, so I know this about myself.  That’s the first step.  Ayahuasca told me that I have to let go, over and over she told me I have to trust.  She said we’re only in control when we learn how to trust.

I also know that people who turn to spirituality, turn to it because they had their hearts crushed and 9 times out of 10 hippies are broken egomaniacs.  But I swear to Gawd that my time with ayahuasca was the real deal.  Just like Pope Francis is to the homeless.

I have to believe in the power of my awesomeness.

I gotta sleep.  I’m about to crash hard.  I hope it’s not going to be another 14 hours of sleep kind of night.  I’m hiking up my big little mountain tomorrow.

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Half of us are infected by toxoplasma!

I woke up and went to work today to massage one client scheduled at 12 noon.  Then I went to hike up my big little mountain.

It kicks my ass with each attempt.  I’ve been up and down that thing at least 4 times now and it’s not getting any easier.  Today was harder than the last time.

But I shall keep at it.  It’s either hike or rollerblade.  No other forms of exercise excite me.  At least, none that are free.  My goal is to hike the scarecrow out of me.  So I can connect my mind to my flabby body.  And I’m preparing myself for another trek.  When and where this trek will be, I don’t know yet.  I actually looked into trekking the entire Wall of China (After watching the movie The Wall).  But I’d die for sure so I scrapped that idea.

Today is May 17th and I’ve been greatly enjoying my free time away from massage.  YouTube especially has sucked me into its clutches.  I learned so much already!

The purpose for today’s entry is to write about what I’ve learned so I don’t forget it.

Years ago I invested in a cleanse.  I swallowed pills that killed unwanted parasites, drank a thick ghastly shake, and finished off my treatment with a special tea brewed twice a day.  Long story short, this concoction gave me Dermatographic urticaria, aka the skin writing disease.  I developed the itch during my purported cleanse.

You can always find me scratching.  My arms, my head, my knee’s….etc.  Worse when I’m stressed.  It gets real bad whenever I eat TV dinners for some reason.

I’ve learned in my time away from work, that that cleanse actually did rid me of my parasites.  But unfortunately for me, they were good parasites.

This is nuts but it makes perfect sense!  The way they describe it I mean, it’s astounding.  Each person has his or her own eco-system.  No two people have the same set of parasites in their body.  Not only do they not have the same set, but there are so many parasites out there, we harbor trillions of them per person, and it’s more likely that you will have not one parasite in common with your neighbors parasites.  You carry with you a species of parasites unique to your body that no other person has.

You can find your particular little eco-system of bugs in your very own belly button.  Sick people however, don’t harbor many bugs in their navel.  The less you have stored there, the sicker you are.

Oh and get this!  People who have allergies, have them because their ancestral body – their coded DNA, had it’s mind set on fighting off parasites from day one but now that people are hand sanitizing crazies, our body fights itself instead.  Not necessarily fights itself, but overreacts to the smallest triggers.  It overreacts because they are just like the bored cops in my hometown, they got nothing better to do.

And that’s what originated my itch.  My good parasites that were unique to me, has taken flight and now my histamines pounce on any pressure given to my skin because they’re not battling it out with my forgotten brethren who lost the battle.

I’ve been trying to get that parasite back.  I’m starting to eat unwashed fruits and vegetables, eating sushi like crazy, yesterday I ate raw angus beef that was supposed to cook itself in my soup, but it didn’t quite make it.

There’s even a certain mix of parasites that cause obesity, or a slow metabolism.

And listen to this!  This is even crazier!  There’s a parasite called toxoplasma and half of us already carry it.  You want to know what it does?  First I’ll tell you what it does to mice.  Over the course of thousands of years, mice learned how to run and hide at first site of a predator.  Particularly cats.  Toxoplasma basically turns all those years of evolutionary instincts into irreverent fodder.  Mice now leap out at cats.  Not attacking the cat, but subserviently waiting to be eaten by it.

Why cats?  Because toxoplasma can only reproduce in cat guts!

And they did a study on how it effects humans and it is said that those with toxoplasma take more risks than those who are not infected.  I mean come on now, this shit is wack,  Amirite?

It’s makes you wonder if we truly are in charge of our thoughts and actions.  I say we’re not in control, I’ve been saying it forever, ayahuasca even mentioned we’re not in control.

I want to make a separate post describing all the psychological reasons as to why we’re not in control, but it’s going to be a fat hog of a post.  I need to invest real time when I tackle that beast.

Anyway, it’s 8:40PM and I need to wind myself down for the night.  I need an early cut-off time with my blog otherwise I have trouble sleeping.

Tomorrow I’m going rollerblading.  Then maybe Cheshire Coffee with my blog, we’ll see.  Oh god I love not working.  OMFG I lurve it.  I need to enjoy it while it lasts.

I also want to write about water memory.  It’s insane!  Insane I tell you!  Insane in the membrane of water.

All of this stuff I’m learning can be tied neatly together in the biggest, baddest, most epic sci-fi novel ever created.  Chock full of all this shit.  Both fiction and fantasy with the reader not knowing the difference.  Just like Orsen Wells, that cheeky bastard.

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Melanie, what are you doing

I had a nice quiet day planned for myself.  I was to get up, get my hair cut at my brother’s salon, check in at work, go hike up my big little mountain and then finish off the day with my blog at Cheshire Coffee.  A perfect day.  The perfect plan.

But it all came undone when I checked in at work.  I was making confirmation calls (my receptionist is in Spain this week) and without going into the boring details, I was suckered into taking a client smack dab in the heart of the day (4:30pm is the heart).  My original plan was blown to shit.  On such a beautiful day too.

So instead, when I was done massaging, I took my $10 tip and bought myself a quart of beef Pho from the Thai place.  Then I went home to watch season 2 of Sense 8 with my dog.

Just as I was about to click on Sense 8, Netflix suggested that I watch Anne with a E.

Me thinking – “What is Anne with an E?  Did they remake Anne of Green Gables?”

“I’ll just watch the first few minutes of it to see how it compares to the old one.”

And here I am at 11 o’clock at night with Netflix asking me if I’m still watching.

“STFU Netflix, don’t judge me.  Yes I’m still watching!”

I’m on the start of episode 4 season one.  It’s better than the last remake.  They picked the perfect actress to play Anne this time.  I can NOT stop watching.

And this my friends, is my Tuesday.


Have you ever found yourself perfectly content, enjoying some mundane activity and then you catch yourself enjoying it?  Almost like you’re looking at yourself from third person POV, kind of spying on yourself, and you ask yourself, “Melanie?  What the hell are you doing….What is this….Is this your life now?”

Have you ever done that?  Because I do it at least once an hour.

“Melanie, what are you doing….”

When I smoke pot, this third person point of view is resounding.  Demanding attention.  Scolding me and calling me a fool.  For stupid things too, like for staying up late when I can no longer keep my eyes open.

Pot- “What the fuck is wrong with you?!!  If you’re tired, GO TO SLEEP!”

It happens with other people too.  “What the hell are they doing?  Do they even know what they’re doing?”  Again, it’s a hundred times worse when I smoke pot.  I can’t smoke around others because they all seem fake somehow.  Fake and scared.  Not everyone, but mostly everyone.

It’s like I’m forever in third person.  I feel this way when I hike.  My body isn’t connected to my head.  When I walk, I feel too high off the ground, too clumsy.  I’m like a scarecrow, full of straw with my arms flipping around whenever I stumble on a rock.  Like I have no bones in me.  I can’t see myself.  It’s like I’m walking blind.

It’s hard to explain, and no, I’m not high right now, but those words are the best I can describe it.

What are you doing Melanie…..what are you doing.

I’m tired but I want to watch one more episode of Anne.

“These episodes are long!  They’re like an hour.”

Pish posh I’ll have none of that.  I do what I please.

I keep looking at myself wishing myself into normalcy.  I’m scared is what it is.  Not the mean reds, not depression kind of scared, but scared of unhappiness.  I’m scared of being unhappy.  And that fear is keeping me from everything.  It keeps me away from romance, from having kids, from wanting a 9-5 job.

I believe everything will happen in time, when I’m ready.  And what makes me happy now is watching Anne of Green Gables….I can’t help it.  I can’t help being happy now at this very moment in my little life.  It’s like a secret I have to keep.  I’m not supposed to feel this way.  I can’t be content now, not when there’s so much more I need to do.

There’s a push and pull in me, always.  Just enough tension in my fraying elastic.

But all I can do is wait and see how everything plays out.  I can’t make my next move.  Not until this lawsuit is over, which already wreaked havoc on my psyche.

So let me enjoy these few simple moments.  These precious free days that I worked years to acquire.

What am I doing?  I’m taking one day at a time.  That’s what I’m doing.



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The ATM mugged me

This lawsuit has really gotten into my head and warped it.

I went to the bank today to deposit all the cash money I saved towards my bankruptcy fund and ended up accusing the ATM for eating $370 of it.

I flipped the fuck out.  I wanted to cry.

Remember that dream I had?  The one where I was eating money so nobody could steal it?  Yeah, well, I subconsciously feel like somebody is out to take my money.  That’s what I mean when I say the lawsuit warped my mind.  It got to me on the deepest levels of my psyche.  Not even $50,000 of debt had the capacity to do that.

So there I was at the ATM, subconsciously thinking that people want to steal my money.  I had NO idea what my mind was concocting behind the scenes.  No clue this was lurking in the shadows.

That particular wad of cash was symbolic.  Not like the other times I deposited money.  This time I was handing out my safety net, feeding it to the beast.  The cog of economy.  My subconscious was irate at this ATM for taking away my only security.

Long story short, I went through the rigamarole of filing a claim.  I was at the bank for at least 20 minutes.  The chubby girl helping me was so smart and kind and actually calmed me down because she wasn’t a dumb ass.  She was patient.  She was even patient towards the dumb ass banker on the phone with her.

After I was done, the claim filed and the missing money credited into my account, I walked over to the teller.

Her – “Did everything work out okay?”

Me – “Yeah, everything’s fine.  They actually credited my account.”

Her – “That’s good to hear.”

I handed her the money to deposit instead of going to the ATM again and that’s when I seen it.  The rest of my deposit money.

Me – “I made a mistake.”

Her – “Yes?”

Me – “I found the missing money.”

Both the tellers laughed and said “these things happen.”

The Chubby girl who helped me didn’t laugh.  I wasn’t laughing either.

This shit never happens to me – NEVER.  That damn lawsuit snaked its way in.  I’m starting to fall in line with the rest of the stupid lame ass adults not having a clue.  They’re clueless because of their snakes!

Granted, I haven’t eaten or drank any water before then and it was already 2:00, and my 2-year old cousin/nephew died last week.  But still….

Utter embarrassment.

I went to work to see my receptionist.  She’s buying us tickets to the Colosseum and the Vatican so we can skirt the line.  I filled my big empty Nalgene bottle with cold filtered water and chugged half of it.

Then I went hiking up my big little mountain on an empty stomach.

Brutal.  God awful brutal it was.  My stomach was so empty but I STILL wanted to puke.

I think I’m going again tomorrow.  Up the big little mountain.  On a full stomach this time.


It’s happened.  My retirement from massage.  This is my second day off and I already feel well-rested.  But it doesn’t matter how well rested I am as long as snakes are snaking their way into my skull.  My only protection from them is acknowledgment.  Yes I see you and yes I am clearly affected by your presence.

Snake – “Sssssso waddya goin’ to do about it hmmm?”

I’m going to keep you in my sites.

Snake – “You can’t essscape your problemssss no matter how much you mull over them.  I am a part of you now.”

Not unless I keep you separated.  You can’t grow roots if you’re cut off.

Snake – “You underestimate my debtsssss.  I am beyond your control.”

Rational Brain where the hell are you?

Rational Brain – “I’m patiently waiting for you to stop talking to your multiple personalities so we can play Persona 5.”

Speaking of Persona 5, it’s about a group of high schoolers who’re able to enter into the metaverse and steal peoples hearts.  According to this video game developer, people become warped and distorted by desire.  The high schoolers don’t actually steal hearts, they steal peoples deepest desires – their most prized possessions.

But the developer got it wrong.  It’s not desires that warp people, it’s fear.  They should’ve made it “fears” they were stealing, not desires.  Desires are fleeting and nobody really knows what they want anyway.  Only self-actualized people know what they want and you don’t see many of them walking about these days.

If my desires got stolen right now, the Phantom Thieves would find a plate of cheesecake.  Or maybe rice pudding…..yes…..rice pudding.

Rational Brain – “You are such an old man!  Rice pudding?  Seriously?”

Snake – “I’m going to ssssteal the rice in your puddingssss.”

Really cold vanilla rice pudding, yum!

Rational Brain – “You want to know how to protect yourself from that snake?  Laugh at it, that’s how.  You have to be strong enough to laugh at your problems before they turn into demons and what I mean by strong, I mean have the courage to not be afraid of them.  Didn’t you already write about this a whole bunch?”

Yes, but I keep forgetting….

Snake – “And why do you think that issss?  Hmmm?  Tee hee hee.”

My true self is funny, sometimes uproariously so.  I made one of my therapists cry laughing yesterday – literally she was crying.  She needed a tissue.  And what I want in life is to truly be left in peace, so I can write a book.  And drink at bars.  And go to coffee shops and museums and hike the woods and see temples and mountains and eat LOADS of weird food.  To paint my pictures and play my games.

Rational Brain – “As long as you know what you want, you know who you are.  You are not your problems.  You like to make others happy, and you really do appreciate life.  That’s who you are.”

I can’t let this virus, this lawsuit change me.  I have to laugh at it.  No matter what happens, I have to believe I’ll be okay.

The business scored a 4.8 out of 5 stars from over 600 votes and we made almost $800 today.  Today I managed to pull an emotional 180 and hiked till I puked.

Rational Brain – “I’d say you had a lively day, now game time!”

Whew, yes.  Game time.


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The Mean Reds and The Honky Tonk Blues

My employee’s get paid 3 times next month.  June 1st is their first pay period and I’ll not have a lick of cent in my bank account.  My bank account, if it were to be opened like a wallet, would cough up dust and tumble weeds.  An old cowboy outlaw would jump out of it demanding money before collapsing to the dirt complaining about the arthritis in his knee’s.

It’s weak.  My finances are very weak.  It can’t even steal money from anywhere.

After I charge my members, I’ll have some money in there, but I charge my members on the same day my employee’s get paid.  Technically my employee’s get paid first, then I’ll get member money deposited a few hours later.

I’ve lived through this before, but this time around is more stressful due to the lawsuit.  And my Italy trip.  And I don’t want to sell Groupons/work anymore.

There are a few things in my favor though, the groupons are nearly done and one employee is taking the next 2 months off, and I’m not in as much debt as I used to be.

This is the second day in a row where I don’t have any clients.

I’m going to take a shower and go hiking.  If I don’t take a shower as soon as I wake up, I end up not taking one at all and I stay home because I feel disgusting.

It feels wonderful not having to work, but it’s bittersweet.  I’m bordering on depression.  All stemming from worry.

Depression sneaks up on me.  It goes through the backdoor and sets up camp in the daily activities section of my brain.  It makes me not want to do anything.  And I don’t even realize I’m depressed, I just feel lethargic and numb to the outside world.  All I want to do is stay home and sleep.  And I still don’t attribute it to depression.

I never realized I was depressed, but I think it’s a different monster for everyone.  And I bet most people don’t even know they’re depressed until they’re contemplating suicide.

For me personally, it’s not a mean red monster like it was for Holly GoLitely, I know what’s bugging me.  I’d say I have more a case of the blues.

I’m using Breakfast At Tiffany’s model of depression and adding my own personal twist.

Holly Golitely said she had a case of the Mean Red’s.  “I’m scared, but I don’t know what I’m scared about.” – That outlook is classic depression.

But as for the Mean Blues, I’m scared, but I know what I’m scared of.

And who can blame me?  So, I’ve got the blues.  Blue’s are curable though.  Sometimes all it takes is a good song or a beer to cheer you up.  To forget your problems.  But the mean reds never go away.

I feel like anyone who doesn’t get the blues at least a few times a year are just kidding themselves.  Ain’t nobody that happy.

And if you ignore the blues, if you fight them back and pretend you’re happy, that can lead to the mean reds because you’ve lived in denial for so long, you literally fooled yourself into thinking everything is okay when it clearly isn’t.

That’s when the mean reds creep up on you.  You don’t know why you’re sad.

I’ve got the honky tonk blues.  But I’m going to get up, take a shower, and hike up my big little mountain.  Maybe I’ll stop at Cheshire Coffee on my way home and bring my laptop.  And I need to stop at the bank to deposit all the cash money I saved, and stop at work too.

It’s not one problem that can bring a man down, it’s compound problems.  If you don’t acknowledge all these problems, all it takes is for one of them to shift into red (forgotten), and you’ll be dealing with a whole new monster.  Even if the problem was small to begin with.  Shit grows like moss.

I swear, how can sane people not keep a journal?  How do they keep everything together in their head?  But then again, I don’t know many sane people….many honest people.

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The Aftermath

Thursday was the wake and Friday was his funeral.

I’m an avoider when it comes to tragedies.  I avoid the person(s) affected by it.  I don’t want to sound annoying or make things worse by saying the wrong thing.  It’s a bit selfish on my part.  But I talked to my cousin Becky and she had that same worry; “The biggest thing I’m afraid of is people avoiding me because they don’t know what to say or are scared of talking to me.  There’s nothing to say, they don’t have to say anything.”

It’s like she read my mind.

I’ve never seen so many people at a wake or a funeral before.  My Dad said “that’s what happens when a young one dies.”   Everyone shows up.  Even my brothers ex-girlfriend.  The one he bought his spa from.

Her – “I’m suing your brother.”

Me – “I don’t know anything about that.  It’s none of my business.”

I actually did know about it.

She said this at the wake while I was standing in line to say my farewell’s to my little cousin/nephew in his casket.  I mean come on now…..she talked to me until it was my turn to kneel.  Where’s the class?  Can’t she read the room?  Talking shit about my brother at a funeral for a two-year old….

It rained the next day on his funeral.  We went to the church and then the cemetery.  Since it was raining, instead of us being outside, they held it inside – in a round marble vestibule type place at the cemetery. My dad knew the proper term for it but I forgot it.

We couldn’t all fit in.

The saddest part of the two days were inside that marble vestibule.  Nobody wasn’t crying.  Every single person shed tears.

Family member making a speech – “He liked superman, spiderman and batman…..”

He got choked up and had to stop.  That’s when everyone lost their shit and couldn’t keep it in.

Me and my Dad were just outside the door.  The memorial ended and people were getting up to touch the casket and filter out.

Dad – “I can’t go in there.”

He had tears in his eyes and couldn’t bring himself to step inside for fear he’d break.  I knew exactly how he felt (I’m exactly like my Dad).  Once I break, I don’t just cry, I wail with my mouth wide open.  It makes things worse.  Plus my Dad, who NEVER cries – to see him cry would also make things worse.

Me – “I can’t either.”

But I had to see the casket just one last time.  I felt by just looking at it was enough to say good-bye.  You don’t understand, I HAD to see it.

They held the after-party at the PBA which our family holds all its big gatherings.  I can’t say I had fun (due to the circumstances) but I enjoyed seeing everyone.  I didn’t enjoy being hit on by my Aunt Laura’s sisters son.  My Aunt Laura is my Dad’s brother’s wife, so there’s no relation, but still….

Him – “I’m single, you’re single.  How is it that two awesome people like us are single?”

Me – “I actually love being single.  I can’t help it.  I wouldn’t be able to cope with what Becky is going through.  I’d rather not deal with anything.”

Him – “I love how honest you are.”

Me – “I’m a weirdo.”

We talked for a few hours, had a few beers, I got to talk with everyone and then my Dad drove us home because he couldn’t drink anymore without getting plastered.

I was wiped when I got home and fell asleep at 7:00PM.  When I woke up at midnight I didn’t know what the hell was going on or what day it was, or why I wasn’t in work….etc.  I actually love that feeling.

This is my first week of retirement but I still had to give massages.  It’s still a bit busy and my therapist sliced her thumb open and needed surgery.

As for Becky and her husband, she’s a stay-at-home mom and her husband got fired for running over his kid with the company car.  FIRED!?  Can you believe it?

And I’m completely useless.  I have no money, I’m in debt, being sued.  I can’t help anyone.  In fact, I picked the worst possible time to go to Italy.  I don’t think the business can make it to the end of this month without having to go into my personal line of credit.  It’s a scary time for me.

Last night I dreamt I was eating paper money in order to keep it safe so no one can steal it, and I wouldn’t be able to spend it frivolously.  But then I realized I’ll never get it back once I ate it.  I felt stupid for wasting it.

Anyway, I should get going.  I have a client.  And I have to go to the store and to the bank.  It’s just that, when I get scared like this, I’m completely immobile.  The only thing that comforts me is knowing that I wouldn’t be in financial trouble if I didn’t pay off $5000 of debt last month.  Or spend $500 on euro’s and $400 on hotels, or pay off $38,000 of debt last year – I’d be okay.  Which means that the business will be okay.  But then I think about the lawsuit and I’m back at square one, worrying myself all over again.

I want to know when life will start getting good.  Where’s the good part?  Why put ourselves through all this shit only to die in the end?

And my persona ebbs away with each massage I give….

What would make me happy right now?

1- For the lawsuit to be over

2- For the last of my debt, $12,500, to be paid

3-  To not massage anymore.

Number 3 is virtually here.

Number 2 will be dealt with by October.  Two of my therapists, Adonis and Austin, are both taking June and July off which is fine by me since it’s slow.  August (when they come back) I’ll sell groupons again and the remainder of my debt will be paid off by October, if not sooner.

As for number 1….I have no clue what’s going on with number 1.

It’s a class action lawsuit which means the lawyer of the people suing me would like to get it over with quickly.  She follows the money.  By prolonging it, she’s wasting her time.  Class action lawyers don’t get paid unless they win.

It’s really just number one on my list, the lawsuit, that is stealing my happiness.  I wouldn’t be worried about my debt, or about dipping into my personal line of credit if it didn’t tie in with this lawsuit.  But it does tie in with it.  And if 1 & 2 aren’t taken care of, #3 will be affected as well.

I need to end this post.  I’m rambling.

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