Category Archives: video’s

I’ve been up for 26 hours!

I’m going to attempt to post a video of St Jean Pied De Porte.  It’s easier keeping a video blog rather than type everything on my iPhone.  


Ugh, it’s taking forever to upload.  I’m so freaking tired.  And it’s chilly in my room. 

I want to go outside and collect my clothes from the line but there’s a bunch of pilgrims congregating near my humongous underwear.  I can’t let on that they’re mine.  I’ll be walking side by side with these people for the next 35 days.

But I want to sleep!  If I fall asleep now, I’ll forget my clothes are out there.  Or something worse will happen.  I don’t know what that something worse is.

I’m hiking 15 miles tomorrow all uphill.  Shits gonna suck.  

Screw it, I’m getting my clothes.  I hate being social but once I’m down there I’m inclined to introduce myself.  If I don’t they’ll only refer to me as “that girl with the humongous  underwear”.

“Did you see that girl with the humungous underwear today?”

“For a brief second before I strode past her, why?”

“She’s weird.”

“Yeah, that’s the rumor.  What’s her deal anyway?”

“Word on the street is that she see’s things in her poop.”

You know how sometimes after using the toilet, there’s what is known as a “streaker”?  It’s a streak that even a good hardy flush can’t erase.

My streak today was of a pilgrim walking.  She had the stick and a hat and everything.  I almost took a picture of it to post on Facebook but my better judgment said “fuck no, you crazy? Girl you fuckin’ stoopid crazy.”

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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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A Momento of my business before it’s torn apart

Here’s the  video from when I first moved in:

It looks like I put on a few pounds since that last video.  The last vid was shot back in March 2014, exactly two years ago next month.  I put on at least 30 pounds since then but I’m less stressed, not as fatigued and my hair actually looks healthier now than it did while I was a stress ball.

I’m a lot happier now.  I’m happier simply because I don’t have to massage as many people which was my plan all along and in a round-a-bout way, my plan worked.   I was a mess back then.  A complete mess.

And now I’m moving into a more professional location in the center of town.  My sign will be visible to the highest density of traffic in the area.  I’m moving up, but paying less.

I’m movin’ on up up

to the South side

Where the doctors and the lawyers do re-si-i-ide

I’m movin’ on up

to the South side

Where my employee’s will rub peoples ba-a-cksides.  

 

 

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Last Day at the Mat

At least I hope.

I get my washer & dryer installed tomorrow at my new business so I’ll be going there instead of the laundromat where weird old hippies ask me, “hey, wouldn’t it be easier to get a washer and dryer?”

Me thinking – “Why don’t you tell me?  You bring your dirty clothes here every week in a garbage bag.  I’d like you to answer that same question.”

Some lady – “How many weeks worth of sheets is that?”

Me – “Four days.”

It sucks there, but hey, I would’ve been screwed without them.

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My Niece Told Me She’s a Lesbian

And I literally had no emotional reaction.

You – “If you had no emotional reaction, than why are you writing about it?”

Moments after I realized that I had no emotional reaction, I felt I should write about my non-reaction.

So here I am writing about it.  There it is.

In other news, I’m incredibly over-whelmed.  I just want to sleep or throw up.  I want to cry.  I’m fantasizing about the relief that the apocalypse might bring.  None of this has anything to do with my niece’s sexuality.  I’m actually kinda relieved she won’t get pregnant too young, suffer from STD’s, or seek unnecessary validation/approval from men.  It’s kind of a blessing if you really think about it.

No, I’m overwhelmed with other things.  When will it stop…….

My most pressing concern is of course Anthony, and the possibility of getting sued for what he done over the summer.  I haven’t wrote about what happened because it went public, locally viral actually, and the story is out there for anyone to read.  I just want to remain an anonymous blogger who gets 6 hits a day and if I told you what happened, you can easily look me up and connect the dots.

I started thinking about him again two or three days ago when my new landlord asked for proof of insurance and I had to visit my high school friend who doubles as my insurance agent to purchase yet another insurance policy.  It drudged up those bad thoughts.  Wondering if my insurance can cover it.  Wondering if I’ll lose everything and I’ll have to pay for the rest of my life.

Insurance Agent – “You’re covered with workman’s comp through a different agency?”

Me – “Yeah….”

Me thinking – “I have to be insured for that?  Don’t my taxes cover it?”

My broken armed therapist whom I laid off is collecting and by this summer, I’ll owe over $3000.  I thought the $3000 gets taken care of by the workmen’s comp taxes I pay into.

And I’ve been getting requested to massage a lot lately, we’ve been busy, I have to keep track of clients stuff, email them, text, call them….wash sheets at the laundromat 4 days a week and lug them upstairs two heavy bags at a time.

I still have to fire Kasey, my crappy therapist.  I lost over $2000 by not leasing that first place I looked at, I need to buy a washer and dryer.  My fat jeans are getting tight and a little over a year ago I literally couldn’t wear them because they’d slip right off.

I need to move all my crap into the new place and fix it up nice.

And so yeah, I’m a little freaked out right now.  Why do I want to sleep and throw up all day?  How does that solve anything?  My cousin just died, my Uncle Arty is on the morphine drip on his way out, my other cousin is having 9-hour surgery the same time her father, my Uncle Arty, is dying at home.

I need some serious self help audiobooks right now.

And I’m moving my massage business next to my friends massage business.  We’re going to share the same parking lot, that’s how close we’ll be.  But I have no choice.  There’s no place else and I’ll be saving $800 a month along with an added $300 I spend on washing sheets at the laundromat.

At least I’ll be further away from my brother’s spa….

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Washing sheets

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Merry Christmess

An old woman lives upstairs at my new business location.  I didn’t hear her make a peep during the first two times I been there, and I haven’t heard her earlier today as I was shooting this video.

But then her son came home…..I hate him.  I hate her son.  Her son ruined my dreams and my future in the short 45 minutes that I’ve known him.

Well, I don’t actually know him, know him.  I’ve never seen or spoke to him, but I could hear him speaking to his mother.

He’s loud, crass, and vulgar.

My world unfurled.  It’s bad enough having second thoughts about moving, but this kid sent me over the edge.

I was quietly listening to my music while taking window measurements, when I heard the son walk in and head upstairs.  I shut off my iPod and walked into the massage room that’s closest to their entryway.

I could hear everything.

Then they got into a heated debate and the son started cursing.

I held up my heavy duty soundproofing blankets to cover the door, but it didn’t help.

Me thinking – “It can’t be helped.  They’re too loud.  I can’t be here.”

I sat and listened some more, I tried holding up the blanket again, turned up relaxing music on my iPhone to see if that would drown them out, but no.  Nothing.

I sat some more and listened.

I wasn’t actually listening, just hearing.  I don’t give a shit about what they were actually saying.  I just wanted to hear how bad the sound was, and it was pretty bad.

I laid with my back to the floor and said, “shit.”

I drove home pissed and wrote my landlord an email explaining to him that I want out.  He quickly called me back.

Here are key points he said (not word for word):

Him – “The son doesn’t live there, he’s just visiting from college.  Just the mother lives there.”

Me – “Does she get a lot of visitors?”

Him – “No.”

Me – “Would I be able to add a contingency to the lease stating that if it get’s too loud, I’ll be able to leave without finishing the lease?”

Him – “Yes, absolutely.  If the place ever becomes an unworkable atmosphere you can definitely opt out of the lease.”

Him – “The mother is moving anyway this summer.  She won’t be there much longer.”

Me thinking – ‘But what if an even louder family moves in?  I would have spent all this money fixing the place up, only to move out.  I’d need to rent the upstairs.’

Me – “How much is the rent upstairs?”

Him – “1250.  It’s really nice.  It’s small, but it’s cute.”

Me thinking – ‘If I’m going to pay the entire rent for the whole house, I might as well own it.’

Me – “Do you have a lease to own option?”

Him – “We do.  We can discuss it on Saturday.  Want to meet with me Saturday and you can meet Kathy?  And I’ll answer all your questions.”

Bottom line is, I can’t do business there if there’s more than one person living upstairs.  I either have to opt out now, or buy the house.  That’s all there is to it.

I kept him on the phone on Christmas Eve.  I wanted to talk more about the lease-to-own possibility and I wanted to make sure he knew in brick and mortar that I can leave if things get loud.

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

I just read about leasing to own.  It’s crap.  I’m not doing that.  I’ll have to pay market rent and an option fee and a rent premium.  Option fee’s and rent premiums are applied to the equity, but I’d lose all that equity if I don’t get approved for a conventional mortgage in the time allotted on the contract.

Bullshit, what’s the point in that?  I hate gambling.  I hate complicated things and I hate this.

God I hate this.

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

I decided not to go through with it.  There’s just too much shit to do.  The traffic noise is loud, loud son living upstairs, french doors that don’t block out sound, the facial room doesn’t even have doors.  It’s just too much.  Not worth it.  I wrote the new landlord another email.

You can read it if you like, but it’s long and boring as always.  I hate writing business bullshit.
I got off the phone with you a few hours ago and I thought everything over very thoroughly. The thing is, when Kathy moves out in the summer, there’s going to be another tenant to replace her. And the next tenant may pose a problem for me even if Kathy is quiet as a mouse in the meantime.

I know you said that I’d be able to leave if things get to be too much, but that’s not as easy as it sounds. I would have already invested in the sign, moving everything, buying all the curtains for the sunroom and doors for the kitchen, I’d probably replace the french doors that connect to Kathy’s side with solid core doors to reduce sound. It’s a big investment even if I’m allowed to leave due to noise, I still would have invested a ton.

And I’ll always have that nagging feeling of when the son will be home next. And when Kathy moves out, I’ll be worried about who’s moving in next.

So my idea for that was to rent the upstairs when Kathy moves out. But I’ll be paying $2800 a month for a house without gaining equity, so I might as well buy it then, right?

I looked into leasing to buy, but I’m not a gambler. I’d rather wait to save for a downpayment and get approved for a conventional loan rather than making a bet that I’ll be successful in a certain time-frame or lose everything I put into it. Leasing to own doesn’t sound rational.

So basically what I’m saying is, this location isn’t right for me. I can’t explain it any better than me not being a gambler. It just feels like a gamble. I’ve got cold feet, it’s the first time in my life where I’ve gotten cold feet.

I love the house, love the location, but unfortunately the priority for a massage business is for it to be quiet. And that’s something I can’t easily gamble on. Moving out if it gets too loud is not an option for me since the loss would be too great, and I wouldn’t want to do that to you anyway.

It’s 11pm, and I’ve been thinking this over since I got off the phone with you at 6:30. There’s too many variables, you know? There’s just too many “what if’s?”

If you were seeing things from my end, you’d totally understand. When it comes to clients, I’m a complete control freak and everything needs to be just perfect.

And I’m also a little weary about paying 60% of the house utilities. I have an OCD cousin who washed his hands constantly and taken 14 hour showers – his water bill was astronomical. If I see the bills were super high one month, I’ll probably blame poor Kathy for cranking her heat up and leaving it up for the entirety of winter even though that is highly unlikely, I’d still think that. And I don’t want to think that.

Aside from Kathy’s son, I also noticed the traffic noise. When I first scoped out the place, it didn’t seem that bad and I could remedy it with window plugs but I don’t know….now that I really sat and listened to it, it just seems like too much. My clients won’t be pleased, no matter how pretty the place is.

I’m not going to send you this email yet. I’m going to sleep on it and if I still feel this way in the morning, I’ll send it. By the morning if my mind hasn’t changed, I don’t think it CAN be changed.

No wait, I’m going to send it now. Just in case you might cash my check tomorrow.

Melanie 

So there you have it.

I HAVE to move, but not in there.

And this my friends, is how I spent my Christmess eve.

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Washing Sheets SuperStar Mel

 

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A Letter to My Landlord

Old woman wanting a gift certificate – “I want to buy a gift certificate, what do you offer here?”

Me – “We do facials and massage.  Here’s a brochure.”

Old woman – “What kind of massage?”

Me – “Just a general massage, swedish or deep tissue, whatever the client needs.”

Old woman – “What kind of massage?”

Oh god……

Me – “We only have one type of massage.”

Old woman – “Yes but what is it?”

Me – “Nothing fancy, just a regular massage.  When people say they’re going to get a massage, that’s where we come in.  We give the massage.”

My esthetician gets up and hides in her facial room pretending to be engrossed in her cell phone.

Old woman – “What’s ray-kee?”

She’s reading through the brochure.

Me – “It’s healing energy.  The practitioner sends healing energy to the client using their hands.”

Old woman – “What is it?  Is it a machine?”

Me – “No, not a machine.”

Old woman – “What room do you do the massage in?  That one?”

She arbitrarily points to the middle room.

Me – “We alternate.  Which ever room is open we use.”

She wanted to buy a gift certificate for her daughter that comes here.  I sold her a $100 gift cert so her daughter can spend it on whatever she wants.

I’m sitting in work.  It’s December 19th and people usually come in unannounced wanting to buy gift certificates.

It’s now December 22.

God I miss blogging.  My life is passing by and I’ll never remember any of it.

I was watching The Last Man on Earth the other day and realized that I would still blog if I was the only person left alive.  If not blog, than keep a regular journal since there would be no internet.

But it’s hard to blog now that I have employee’s who talk to me in-between clients and if I’m not in-between clients, I do other things.  And I vowed never to blog at night due to the insomnia it causes.

Subject change.

I’m loving Christmas.  I mean I LOVE Christmas now more than ever.  Why?  Because of all the damn gift certificate I’m selling.  I sold more of them last year, about $1500 more, but because of what happened last summer, we’re nowhere near to what I should be selling.

But I’m thankful for what we did sell.

My current landlord is giving me a hard time about leaving.  I’m trying to leave a month early and get out of paying rent for the last month on accounts of being a good tenant.  It doesn’t hurt to ask, right?  He agreed to allow me to pay a portion of what I owe, not the whole thing.  But he was a hard-ass about it, saying that I’m finagling my way out of paying out of convenience and not because I’m hard-up.  And he was trying to talk me into staying there indefinitely.  His email was cold and scathed in overt professionalism while I on the other hand wrote him this:  (It’s really long so you can skip over it.)

“I promise I wasn’t asking to leave early out of sheer convenience. I have literally $2000 in my bank account which covers next months rent, but doesn’t cover paying my employee’s 3 times this month. Twice a year they get paid three times a month instead of two. I just figured there would be no harm in asking to be let out early, that’s all.

I’ll lay everything out for you so you understand exactly where I’m at right now.

A few months ago I found this really phenomenal location that comes with a washer & dryer already installed, a facial room, 3 massage rooms and two bathrooms for $500 cheaper in rent. But what’s most important about this new location is the sign. I’ve been approved to have my very own sign, 5 feet wide by 3 feet tall to be placed on a very visible spot in downtown Cheshire. Literally every person in town will see this sign. Not just drive by it unnoticed, but actually see it.

I wanted to snatch this place up before anyone else did. I found it at the end of october and went through the whole process of getting a permit for it which is a lengthy ordeal, but I was fine waiting since my lease wasn’t up until spring. I literally just got approved the day before I asked you to let me out early.

I know exactly what went wrong with the business. I never should have rented the two rooms upstairs, hired an esthetician, let my broken armed therapist answer phones 30 hours a week while she recovered and I definitely never should have hired Anthony to replace her (we lost over half our income because of him). I never should have sold so many groupons. Groupon paid me $3000 a month but now that they’re not paying me anymore, and I still have to somehow massage all these people, basically all the money I made from the business is gone. But they expire next month so I’ll be fine as long as I can make it into next month.

Washing sheets is killing me. I have to lug them to the laundromat and then lug them upstairs to be folded because there’s no other place to do it. I can’t wait for this washer and dryer.

And when it’s super cold out, those windows in the office are like air conditioners when you stand by them. Cold just seeps on through like nothing is there blocking it and we can hear every word said outside like the person is in the room with us. Some guy was talking about anal beads outside the window the other day. And one of the landscapers has a dirty mouth always yelling and swearing.

So I was thinking, I can pay January’s rent, you keep my security deposit for February’s rent, so all you’d be losing is March, plus the $650 for upstairs because the upstairs lease doesn’t end until May, so I guess I’ll owe you $2600 when all’s said and done. If at any chance you can somehow decrease that number, that would help me out a ton. I’ll still probably end up going bankrupt, but it’ll be a chance for me to start new again without making all the mistakes I did this first time around. I’d actually have money right now if not for those mistakes.

Honestly, this move is imperative. My livelihood revolves around this move. There’s too many pro’s and not enough cons in this move. The signage, $500 cheaper, washer and dryer, two bathrooms, a room with a sink for facials, new windows, quieter, no stairs, approved by zoning, getting away from the stigma Anthony caused (a HUGE reason just by itself).

Now I just have to figure out how to finish up my lease without having any bad blood between us. I completely laid everything out for you, my decision to move and what’s in my checking account. I’ll have more money in my checking account once the groupons expire. And I’m very curious to see how well the new location works out with its huge engraved wooden sign out front.

I would’ve waited after my lease was up to move, but I started breaking out in hot sweats thinking about my business being sued over Anthony and decided I needed to act as soon as possible before he’s convicted. I jumped the gun a month or two in advance to save my hide. And even without the Anthony incident, it’s still a good move regardless. He just greased the wheels. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be moving.

It’s absolutely crazy that I’m going through all this crap. I mean it’s nuts! I see a light at the end of the tunnel but I have to go through leaps and bounds to reach it. There’s always an obstacle to overcome. When does it end?

Anyway, I’ll find a way to pay you your money. It’s $2600. Not enough to go crazy over, but not little enough for me not to feel it. It’s not that I don’t want to pay you, but more like I literally can’t. At least, not right now. With the groupons expiring, and moving to a more visible location, I’ll have more wiggle room. I promise you I have no money and this is definitely not a convenience thing. It’s a “I’m sinking fast and need to do something” kind of thing. It’s anything but convenient. I haven’t bullshitted you with anything I swear.

But I’m confident this move will improve my financial situation drastically and I’ll be able to pay you once I’m out. I’ll be able to pay you because potential clients won’t actually be afraid to come to the new place.

I don’t have much say in how much you’d be willing to take off the $2600, it’s all dependent on what you’re willing to part with. But I was a pretty good tenant, wouldn’t you say? I always had that check for you by the first of every month and it never bounced, and I was good to the other tenants and to you and to Debbie. I didn’t destroy the place and I kept it clean. No nicks on the walls or stains on the carpets. I even rented the upstairs when nobody else did. I’m really hoping you weren’t planning on keeping my security deposit from the beginning because of some stipulation I wasn’t aware of.

I’m just in a pickle man, that’s all. But I’ll absolutely do what I can!

Sorry, I like to write long emails. I do it with my employee’s too. They usually like reading them.

Take your time thinking about how much I’ll owe you after January. Especially think about it on Christmas, that’s usually the best time to think about things like this. Something about that holiday brings clarity. Like on the movies the Christmas Carol and it’s a wonderful life, those people had clarity.

Anyway, I should get some sleep.

Melanie

Ps: I just wanted to remind you that I’m not bullshitting. Absolutely no bullshitting. Not convenient. Absolutely not convenient.”

I’m clearly not professional, I’m too human for that nonsense.  The crumby thing about being a massage therapist is the professionalism.  Clients don’t come back if you’re not professional.  So much of my personality has lifted away these past 10 years from being something that I’m not.

I made a video last time I washed sheets.  It was during a time when my heart was sinking due to the shit ton of money I’ll be needing.

I’m okay now, no sinking feeling.  It’s just that I caught myself in that video having one of my “episodes.”  It doesn’t happen very often anymore because of my “fuck this shit I don’t care anymore” attitude, but now and again I get a glimpse into the fear of losing it all.  Something about having a camera in my face drums up all the crap I keep locked away.  Making eye contact with the camera especially drums it up.

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The Continuum of Candy Crush

I was watching Continuum the other day, the episode where Kiera freaks out and threatens an asshole cop, her CPS turned itself off and the android counselor appeared to evaluate her emotional stability.

You – “And he threatened to wipe her memories that triggered the emotional outburst?”

Yeah, that one!

She traveled back in time from the year 2077 and left her son in the future.  It was his birthday that day, and she wasn’t in the mood for shit.  The android counselor had to make a decision to extract the memory of her son if she didn’t find a way to get past her emotions.

Her solution was as follows (not word for word, or even close to being word for word):

Kiera – “I’m okay now.  I know what I have to do.  I have to accept that I may never see him again.  I might never be able to go home again.  I have to accept that.  I can hope to see him again, but I have to accept the worst.”

And the android disappeared and her CPS was turned back on.

This is the exact same thing that happened with my business.  I didn’t want to accept the worst.  I didn’t want to accept my business closing down and having to file bankruptcy.   But I learned on my own, after gut-wrenching pain, that accepting the worst is the only way out of it.  This is what it means to face your fears.  You can’t beat them, you’ll never be able to beat them, you just have to accept them.  Accept the shit out of them until they disappear.

This is incredibly cathartic.  It’s healing potential should not be over-looked and I’m stoked that they put it in a TV show.

Anyway, the last 3 days of my life were stolen away by none other than candy crush.  I had to delete it from my phone today.

Each level, no matter how impossible it seemed to be, was beaten.  This kept happening over and over again until I realized, “I can beat every stinking level of this stupid game and for what?  What’s the point?”

Video games are different.  There’s a story-line, amazing graphics, and a clear ending.  With Candy crush, there IS no ending.  And they purposely made it addicting by using the skinner box method.

Scientists found that a small rodent trapped in a box that has to push a lever for food will learn to push it for food.  But it will only push it when it’s hungry. But if the button randomly gives out food, the small rodent begins to push that button much much more…even when it’s not hungry, because there is now a random reward.

I went on YouTube to find out what’s at the end of candy crush and it says nothing, only “to be continued.”  There’s no bells, whistles or fireworks, just “to be continued….”

I downloaded the game about 4 days ago and it taken my life away.  I didn’t write, didn’t paint, visit friends, go out – I did nothing but sit here feeding my ever fatting face with mom’s homemade comfort food.  All for the rush of an explosion and several cascading moments of candy crushing bliss.

When the game wouldn’t let me pass on to the next level until a certain amount of time passed, I went back and tried to make all my levels 3 stars.  I never seemed to run out of lives.  Facebook people kept handing them out like, um, candy!

Anyway, the saga has ended.  I will not be playing anymore phone games aside from sim city.  It’s not too addicting and I can’t do a damn thing with it until I’ve collected enough tax to buy my mass transit.

With all my new free time, I’m going to write a book.  I mean it this time.  The idea popped in my head yesterday and I’m itching to go to the coffee shop and start writing it.  I already have all the resources, the experience, and stories.

It’s going to be about how to open up your own Massage business.  It sounds boring and extremely targeted to a select group of people, but I’m going to make it into a funny memoir of my attempts.  I’m going to start writing it now and by the time it’s almost finished, it’ll be around the same time I’ll be in the profit zone again.  So it can end on a happy note.

I already have my prologue written out here.  Of course I’ll tweak a few things, and possibly throw in other stuff from posts around that time.  I can’t believe it’s been almost four years since then.  I NEVER would have expected that I’d be the boss of 8 people and running my own place.  Especially since I wanted to get out of the business.

I never liked massage….

I washed sheets yesterday and made a video.  I’ll post it but it’s long and boring.

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