Ill sleep in this place with the lonely crowd; lie in the dark where the shadows run from themselves..

Greetings.

I figured since I haven’t dusted this volume off for a while, now would be a decent time.

I’ve been alright since the 19th, the last you last heard from me. I am a little bit apprehensive though. Tomorrow, I get to (sarcasm) go talk to a complete stranger at the Mental Health Center, aka the mental freak society. Fully aware that may be walking the razor’s edge on sounding emo, I really don’t want to go. I’ll save the ‘I want to be normal blah blah blah’ babble because, chances are, you’ve heard it before and are tired of it. Still. I really don’t want to go.

Oh well. Although I don’t believe it in the least right now, nothing will get any better unless I divulge a bunch of crap to some shrink I don’t know.

Bleh. I almost feel like I don’t want to say anything… it should be my problem, not everyone else’s… and even though it doesn’t feel like it right now, it will remain other peoples’ problems because the way I act would remain unchanged, should I blow off this shrink apppointment.

Anyway. The appointment is at like, 1:30 tomorrow. I plan on getting my ass out of the house early in the morning so I can hang out with people at NIACC in the commons before my appointment. Although I might be bored (depending on who decides to show up tomorrow), I’d just be bored at home. Between being bored at home, by myself, or being bored someplace else, surrounded by people, I’ll take the latter.

Anyhoo, today was mildly interesting. I had way too much caffeine, and as a result, I was bouncing off the walls. Choir was not really anything to complain about, but at the same time, nothing to write home over.

Right now, I find myself utterly unoccupied, and sadly, at the end of this entry.

Melancholy- a gloomy state of mind, esp. when habitual or prolonged; depression.

I gather you can estimate what sort of day I’ve had by the title of this blog.

Plus, I think I’m going insane.

Being constantly afraid of rhings, and for no reason. Like, the dark. Going in the basement. Staying up after everyone else has gone to bed. Being alone. Things like that.

At this point, I don’t know what is normal and what I’m overreacting about.

Depression? Manic depression? Bipolar disorder? ADD?

I just want to know what’s wrong with me, because nothing will get better or get fixed until we know what the fuck it is….

Once again, my father said he would call the mental health center for me, and he still hasn’t.

It happens every goddam time. 

He says he will, and then he doesn’t.

Dammit.

I don’t want to be afraid to stay up later than everyone else in my family. I don’t want to be scared of coming home so late everyone is in bed by the time I get there. I don’t want to be afraid of going in the basement. And people telling me, then don’t be, that doesn’t work… even though I want it to. At this point, I’m just so confused about everything… and knowing I’m going to be more than likely moving out of the dorms tomorrow…

Ugh. I’ll have to take everything off my walls, clean the mirrors (as I’ve written on them with eyeliner and dry erase marker), get absolutely everything out, and vacuum.. and my dad and or the rest of the family will insist on being there… and it’s complete hell when we do those sorts of things…. I’d rather they let me do it myself, but I apparently can’t be trusted.

Knowing that torks me off just a little bit, but I suppose I deserve the mistrust I so often receieve.

I just… want to let loose and party this weekend. Maybe get drunk and play guitar hero, that sort of thing…. I just want to, for a while, forget about the cauldron of confusion I’m now being mixed into…

There’s a movie I wouldn’t pay to see again….

Well, it’s finally happened. As if I could believe things would go smoothly forever, my bulky, out of date SUV finally fell through the crack in the pavement.

(I’m looking for cracks in the pavement- Duran Duran)

If you’re wondering exactly what I’m trying to say with all this vague banter, the cat’s out of the bag. The airplane’s out of the hangar. The fish is out of the water. The rider’s off the horse! The makeup’s off the clown!

My big lies about school have finally been excavated, and by ameteurs with obsolete equipment.

So, to put it bluntly and like a young adult, I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.

To be eligable for Financial Aid, you must pass at least 10 credit hours, an amazing feat that I failed to accomplish.

First, by dropping Comp and Speech and adding the online course. If I had just bit the bullet and continued with Comp and Speech, I could have easily dealt with the first of these ever weighing problems.

Secondly, by missing so much Theatre class again. I didn’t miss that many classes, but the instructor is so very anal about attendance, in that aspect he’s one of the most infamous at NIACC. He’s so tight if you shoved a lump of coal up his ass he’d be bound to crap out a diamond a week later.

Thank you Ferris Bueller.

I thought that when I found out my cumulative GPA was above 2.0, I was in the clear.

Apparently not.

So the fact that 10 credit hours had to be above C was a shock, although I must have known it before.

My query is, how could I be so very half witted to have forgotten that?

I’m not sure. Right now, I have none of the answers that I seek.

Now that we’re all on the same page, things will get better.
I have to keep telling myself that, as, at the moment, I’m not sure I believe it.

Oh well. They always said, when you hit rock bottom, the only way to go is up.

So sickeningly optimistic, but in this case, all too true.

Still, I must deal with the consequences of my past negative actions, one of which being, I will have to move back home.

In addition, I will have to drop all of my classes except Choir and Applied Piano, and I will be retaking an online class that I didn’t complete.

While moving out of the dorms (and dropping most of my classes) are not things I particularly want to do, it’s the consensus that it would be the best thing for me to do.

Also, I will begin some therepy, forever confirming a fact I’ve known for years : I AM INSANE. 😉 Finally, I’ll be able to either confirm or bust the ‘shrinks are bad’ myth. I personally think it’s plausible, but I could be wrong.

Please ignore the fact that I’ve been watching entirely too much ‘Mythbusters’ today. ^.~

And I know that it was just the fear of flying

“And I know it’s hard to keep myself from crying, but when my tears are washed away you’ll still be blind….”

Another great excerpt from a Thomas Dolby song.

Well, in response to a few buckets of crap that have fallen out of my mouth recently, I’ve gotten quite the outpouring of sentiment, from members of a forum on Mr. Dolby’s official site, of all places.

You might be wondering how a bunch of pixelated outpouring from strangers halfway across the country, and the world, would make any difference to me, and to tell the truth, I’m wondering the same sort of thing.

Nonetheless, I feel a little better. I know the world is not half as bad as my depressed episodes would like me to think… granted, it’s not all sunshine and roses…but it can be an alright place at times. 😉

I have a few things I need to do tomorrow. Such as, my father says I have to call the college to ask if I passed the online class. I think he’s technilogically a bit dense, since calling the college to know my grades is uncesessary. My GPA is above a 2.0, which is all I needed to keep my financial aid.

So I’m hoping that my assumptions are correct; that my status as a full time student at NIACC is intact. 
If this is confirmed by the people at financial aid, I’m hoping that will lessen the blow of the fact that I got an incomplete in that class.

Unless I, of course, lie again. Right now, that’s not something I want to do, but caught in the stress of the moment, I may just blurt the lie out without really thinking… Similar to people that are angry saying something they don’t mean….

Who knows. I may just have to pay the piper… which may mean getting my mode of transportation taken away, unless I can come up with a good reason to keep it (ie. work). Even though I don’t generally work during the week.

My father also mentioned asking when we can move back into the dorms at NIACC, because he is bent on doing a comprehensive clean up session of my room. He is convinced he needs to do so.

And to tell the truth, my dorm room is a bit of a pit… Partly due to the fact that the last day we could move out before Spring Break, I was tearing through my room, deciding what to take…

Whatever day we can start moving in, I plan on telling my dad a day late so I will have some time to get there before him, so the mess will not be quite so bad.

And honestly, I don’t usually let my dorm room get messy, because I spend so much time there… But the last few weeks before holiday break, I had a lot going on, so I just kind of let the state of my room deteriorate.

And, I’m planning on hanging out with my best friend tomorrow… She and I were going to hang out tonight, partly to celebrate David Bowie turning 60, but her parents sprung a surprise, overnight trip to the casino at her. She felt a bit obligated to go, since she spent so much of her holiday break away with her boyfriend.  I understand that.

Her parents can be a bit hard to please, sometimes, too, and if she can keep in their good books a little bit longer by agreeing to go on this trip with them, power to her.

Well, I suppose I should be getting to bed, since a sporadic bout with insomnia kept me up until 2:30am this morning.

Peace, scarlet macaw feathers, and love,

Melody

She’s losing faith in a world that is out of control…

I can be such a drama queen sometimes.

Like now.

I’ve already talked about it countless times, the infamous ‘Let’s treat the commentary box on TMDR’s blog like a fucking shrink” incident, but I’ve been fretting about it ever since some friends on the forum telling me what I really already knew.

How utterly inappropriate it was for me to post that comment on a complete stranger’s blog. Well, I added the ‘utterly’ sentiment… as I’m being harder on myself than the others are being on me.

What did I think was going to happen? I seem to be taking this like a tweenager obsessing over her favorite member of a goddam boy band… I’ve already had a few dreams in which TMDR has been involved in some way. What did I think would happen?

That’s it. I’ve become my mother.

That was my guilt machine. You see, my mother has this guilt machine. To avoid just saying what she wants to say, or wants someone do to, she will guilt people into doint it. And she denies it. She uses people’s emotions to get what she wants.

I think she likes being pitied.

I feel pathetic, but I think my word vomit on TMDR’s blog may have been my subconscious cry for pity.

How can I admire a man so much when he is, in fact, a stranger?  How can I desire so much to be a part of someone’s life if I don’t even know them?

I think we, as normal fans of a celebrity, can be disillusioned by them. We ‘know’ so much about them, and so much about their work, that we feel that we know them.
The fact is, we only think we know them.

No matter how much I love his music.

No matter how much I wish I was one of the lucky friends in his life.

No matter how much I admire the man’s work.

No matter how much I wish I could collaborate with him musically.

No matter how much I wish I could get synth lessons!

No matter how many dreams and fantasies I will have about meeting him.

It will not even matter if I actually am lucky enough to meet Thomas someday.

I will probably never know him as I so desire to.

Because I feel like he’s a best friend, though his music, and all relationships, whether between friends or lovers,  are not one way streets.

I feel like his music has given so very much to me, I want to give something back. I’m not sure how my brain’s chemical imbalance thought word vomiting all over his blog commentary was going to accomplish that.

I’m just worried that I’ve freaked out one of it not the only musician I’ve ever wanted to impress. Creating disharmony with no outlet is the very last thing I wanted to do. I must have thought that by roughly stating “Hey, your music and blog are distracting my destructive habits” I would be complimenting him. Do you know how absoultely awful I would feel if Mr. Dolby did run across my comment and worried about it, or it affected him in any negative way?

It’s the worst when you KNOW it’s your fault.

I don’t want to cause anybody pain, because when I know I’ve caused someone else pain or other disharmony, it’s almost like I inflicted pain upon myself.

I like making people feel good.

I like giving people what they need.

I like fixing other people because I don’t know how to fix myself.

I know I can’t do everything, but it still distresses me sometimes.

I wish the man all the best in the world, I really do.

Chances are, in the matter of guilting him, I’m worrying about nothing. With how busy the man is, I doubt reading old blog comments is at the top of his “To Do list”. Even so, the uncertainty is going to kill me.

If he’s read my comment, I wish so much that he could also hear my apology that it will probably eat me alive for a long time.

I want to say I’m sorry. Sure, Mr. Dolby, I’m depressed, and all that jazz, sure, but you didn’t deserve my SPAM in your blog comments. That was neither the time and place, and I now realize that, whereas it wasn’t so clear before. I could say I’m sorry a thousand times a day (and mean it) for as long as I live, and I wouldn’t feel like my apology was adequate. You’ve done so much for me through your music, I feel like a thief because I’m not offering anything back. I can’t even get my ass to one of your concerts.

This is probably going to bother me until I discover a way to give back, even if it is just by being at one of his concerts.

Give me your shoulder, I need a place to wait for morning.

Here I am again.

Feeling a bit contemplative, and a little depressed. Unlike other episodes though, I have a bit of a reason for my current depression…

I have to work tomorrow, from 11-2.

I gather that if you’re reading this text right now, you’re no stranger to my blog. And, should that be the case, chances are you’ve heard my weekly misadventures about work.

I go through the same godforsaken thing every single week. It starts the evening before, if I have to work in the morning. And it’s even worse in the morning, before work. I’m trying not to get so worked up about it, because honestly, there is no use in it.
I have to work, I should just be able to put up with that. And I’m lucky. I only have to work for three hours.

Yet, this time it’s a bit harder.

Last week, I filled out an application to be a dish washer at a bar/restaurant, and they said they’d call when they found anything out. I want to be positive about this, but at the same time, it’s looking an awful lot like every other time I’ve filled out an application. Or gone to an interview. I go in hoping for the best. They promise to call either way, but they never do. I usually don’t hear from them again, at all.

That’s what got me stuck at Arby’s in the first place. Summer of ’06. Of all the places I applied at, besides Kum & Go (a gas station that wanted me to work the early morning shift… which would have worked, except I had to be up at 5 to deliver papers on my summer route), the only place I heard from was Arby’s.

And, the only reason I got stuck there is because my dad was threatening me, that if I didn’t have a job by the beginning of July, I would be like a prisoner in my own home.

So what was I supposed to do? Turn down a job I had a bad feeling about from the start, or get nearly everything in this world that I live for (music) taken away from me?

Right from the start, I was telling myself I should have lied to dad and said that Arby’s decided not to hire me.

I know that the first step to getting off all this lying is to try not to justify the dishonesty, but Arby’s has a piss poor way of proving that to me. Because if I had turned them down, I wouldn’t be going through this right now. I’d be avoiding all this shit I go through every weekend when I have to work.

And, what’s worse, is I need money, hence needing more hours, but if I have to work there for more than a couple days a week, I go insane.

I’m doing it again. The same goddam thing I do every week.

Even though work may not be like, OMG THEEEE MOST FUN I EVAR HAD, I’m not exactly scarred for life when my shift is over.

I suppose the dread is actually making my work seem worse than it is.

I just… You know when you walk up to a group of people that have just mentioned you. Or when I’m standing at the slicer, watching a group of co-workers take advantage of a slow minute in the store to exchange some mindless banter we call ‘chat’. I know they must talk about me in some way.

I feel like I’m not good enough.

I only make the fucking beef sandwiches, and I take it harder than the people who have to make all the other types of sandwiches. And, I marvel at how they could possibly remember all those sandwich types. I have trouble with just the beef ones.

I should just shut up. Work’s not going to be as bad as I keep thinking, even though I won’t like it.

I’ll live.

“Give me your shoulder, I need a place to wait for morning”.

So true.

Thomas Dolby. Quite frankly, the man amazes me to no end, and I don’t even know him…..

I don’t know. I’m going insane, and right now, his music seems to be the only think keeping me from completely losing it.

I just don’t know anymore.

Damn streaks of depression.

Through the airwaves, people never read the airwaves…

Okay, this is weird.

Not that one can expect anything less from a person such as myself, but lately, my brain seems to be quite vocal.

An amazing feat, I know. 😉

Moving on…

One of the things that has always fascinated me is psychics/the paranormal. I do believe in such things, but with any great ability comes those trying to exploit it. That being said, I’m not one of those pseudo-reality tv sheep who take in everything said by anyone like that as the truth and nothing but the truth (so help them God).

There is one such paranormal matter that I think about more often than others, but that’s because it’s a little more…urgent is not quite the correct word, but let’s just say it’s not exactly on the back burner of the stove in my brain.

Ghosts.

I’m not talking the hundreds of Charlie Brown bedsheet ghosts running around every halloween, or the walking marshmallow Ghostbusters types.

A better word for them may be, spirits. Those people who have passed on, but their soul cannot rest, for some reason.

One of the more prominent reasons I believe in these is that I’m fairly sure I have witnessed such phenomena before.

The first time was in the OK House, this hangout on the campus of my college. It’s a nice little building with a kitchen, bathroom, and such. They have a keyboard and a working Hammond(sp)  organ, even. They have religious connotations, but by no means must you be a specific religion to go there…  Back to the story.

It was around Christmas, 2005. I was in there, alone. A friend of mine stayed up for a little while, but she had an early class to get to, so she left me alone. I had found some acrylic paints, so I was painting a little picture of a reindeer. I was at the sink, washing out my brushes, when I felt someone put their hands on my shoulders. I whipped around, but there was no one there.
Creepy.
So, I went back to my painting. The same thing happened that time, only for the slightest second, I saw a sillouette of what looked like a fairly tall, sort of skinny person, I think it was male. Which really creeped me out, and I’ll tell you why. A few years before, a young man had commited suicide in the Dorm boiler room, which isn’t too far from the OK House. I don’t know what said young man looked like, but I think since I was close to the OK House’s boiler type room, it might have been that kid. To this day, I’m not sure.

The second time was later that year. A bunch of friends and I were hanging out in there. The OK House has a little kareoke machine and a small selection of songs (most of them 80s, because I helped pick them out…). Of the all of us there that evening, I was the only one who didn’t smoke. My friends had gone out for a smoke, and I was sitting on a tall chair, in front of the kareoke machine, singing, when I felt eyes on the back of my neck. I paused the kareoke machine. When I turned around I saw a sillouette of what felt like an older woman, but I only saw it for a second. I shrugged and turned back to the kareoke machine. Not even a minute or two after, I felt a hand on my shoulder again, and when I turned around, of course there was nobody there.

There have actually been some paranormal investigators that have proved the OK House is fairly paranormally active. If I didn’t believe it before, I do now.
I’m not the only one who have seen things there, either. A friend painted a mural on one of the walls, and when she’d work in there alone, she would experience similar things.

My other stories have taken place in my own house. Before we lived here, an older lady lived her. Her husband died inside the house, and I think he’s still here. As I recall, the lady had lots of cats, and I think a few of them are still here also.

The time I saw what I believe to be the man, I was in bed, and having trouble sleeping. I was the only one awake. If my brother or either of my parents were up, they were being quite silent. I have a beaded curtain on my door, because the doorway isn’t straight enough to actually fit a door. I was staring off into space in the direction of said doorway, and I heard a slight tinking sound, like when someone goes through the beaded curtain, and for a second, I saw a fairly tall, older looking man… I couldn’t see his face, but he was wearing a black, almost fedora type hat, and a black suit with a white shirt, and a black tie, I think. Even though the presence didn’t feel threatening in any way,  I was still unbelievably frightened.

The other times, I’ve been at the computer when everyone else is sleeping, and I see the sillouettes of cats, roaming around the living room.

And, to add to all this paranormal stuff, I think I may have some type of, I don’t want to call them pyschic abilities, but I don’t know what else to refer to them as. My dad believes I’ve picked up on people’s thoughts before, and he’s done a few of them himself (ex. Mom put 42 dollars worth of gas in the car on her way home from work. When she got home, she jokingly told dad to guess how much gas she’d put in, and he guessed right on the money).

I was talking to some friends at dinner in the dorms. I don’t remember exactly what was said, but my friend was having a discussion about how her cousin was pregnant, or got pregnant, something of that nature. A different friend asked a question of my first friend. A split second before the answer was said by the first friend, it came out of my mouth. The exact same words, exact same tone. It took me a few minutes to realize that I’d just answered the question when there was no way I would know from personal experience.

Another recent happening found me at the computer, playing Sims 2. I had my sim use the toilet, and as I was waiting for them to finish, I was thinking how utterly annoying it is when the toilets clog.

And, lo and behold, when the sim was finished,  the toilet clogged.

Weird.

It may have just been a coincidence, but with my other experiences I kind of believe otherwise….

Well, I gather you’ve heard enough of my off center rambling for one day, so here is where I will end the entry.

Happy [internet] trails.

If a song was a road…

…I would ride through the night to you.

Some of the most beautiful words to ever pass a man’s lips.

And it’s got ambient music to match.

Just in case you were wondering, my slight obsession with Thomas Dolby is making a comeback.

But I’m not all smiles and sunshine, but that may be due to the fact that I’m not a Care Bear.

Damn.

Honestly, though. I still have something weighing on my mind, kind of like a sponge that’s sucking in everything around it. 

My parents are still completely unaware that my grades are in trouble,  and I plan to keep it that way as long as I can. Preferrably until I’m actually back living in the dorms.

Seperate from my problem with lying, this is, again, something I want to see how I handle on my own, and getting the parents involved would only make things worse.

Take any good parents out there. Let’s say you’re like me, and you messed up big time your first year in college, because you still had the big, arrogant mindset of a high schooler. You screw up so bad that your financial aid is going to cut off, cause of your uber low GPA. You thought about it, and got some strings pulled to get a reprieve.

And you blow it, because you thought you’d learned from your mistakes only to be given a swift kick in the rear partly by problems you can’t explain.

What are any good parents going to do?

They’re going to be furious, and as can happen when one’s brain is not in the right place, they will say things they don’t mean.

I can’t even begin to imagine what my parents are going to say when I finally have to tell them.

But, I’ve been thinking, and that can sometimes be dangerous in my case.

Out of the six classes that actually counted towards my GPA, I got two As, two Bs, an incomplete and a fail, and according to the WebAdvisor on my college’s site, my GPA equals 2.076. I only needed a 2.0 to keep my financial aid. So, if that is correct, I’m out of hot water, scholastically.

Now granted, my parents will still have a shit fit about my inconsistancy with truth, but that will really be the only bone they’ll have to pick with me.

And, if NIACC has something up their butts about it, I can just see if they’ll keep me on for another semester, which will truly be my last chance.

I just… don’t know… My brain seems to be scattered these days. We’ll have to see how long it takes me to find all the pieces.

I’m not a complete idiot. Some pieces are missing. 😉