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Melody's Journal
20 most recent entries

Date:2007-06-02 14:00
Subject:
Security:Public

I'd really appreciate being called on my bullshit.

Would you like me to do the same for you?

Wait. Don't answer that. If you said "yes" you'd probably being lying and if you said "no" then I'm not sure that I'd be able to pretend to still have any modicum of respect for you.

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Date:2007-02-10 20:56
Subject:Reading
Security:Public
Mood: thoughtful

My happiest moments are in bookstores and libraries. I don't remember life without books. I'm not sure if it would be life without books. It would be like being blind, for books are how I see the world. It would be like a world without reflections, for books are how I see myself. The smell, processed paper, dead trees; it gets me every time. It's like a guarantee. I expect to feel. I expect sensation. I want to have to close my eyes. I want to feel the electrons and atoms ripple across my body because I've been touched at the core of my being. I wanna crave it. I want my fix. Like a junkie, I want to waste away in my love for it. I want to curl up in front of the new gas fireplace or the heating vent in the corner of the living room with a sheet and a pillow and a book and never want to get up. Pressed so close to the fire that I start to wonder if I've burned the hairs on my legs off. I want to sit in a bay window with a cup of hot tea and watch the world through rivulets of rain. I want to see images and hear voices and understand things in my mind. I want to be touched. I want to forget where I am and who I am and get lost somwhere else in someone else's problems. I want my parents, my first love, my life...I want me.

I remember picking up the hymnal the color of dried red wine, flipping through the pages for songs I'd heard all my life. Mom played for the church then--the litte church with bright red doors and a large stained glass window of squares and rectangles that faced the street. After church, after choir practice maybe, I remember walking up to her, holding the book open in my hands. "Look, Mommy," I said. "Joy to the world," I read, pointing each word out as I said it. I was two years old, she told me later. And my life was never the same.

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Date:2007-02-04 21:10
Subject:
Security:Public
Mood: aggravated

I have four friends at Penn. And by friend I mean people I try to see a least once a week. And judging by the occasional Facebook message to the effect of "I know where you live" that these same friends post from time to time, I don't do so good a job. I got home from job #2 today to a text message from someone who isn't on that list of 4 saying "Mel I miss you! Let's do lunch!" I feel like an ass. But honestly, I don't know how other people do it. I try. I try hard. Not as hard as I could, but damn. I like being alone. I like it a lot. And though I do work two jobs now, clearly, if I have time to watch House, The Hills, and Two-A-Days on the regular, with some Criminal Intent thrown in for good measure, and read a least a book a week, I have time to be a friend. It's really hard. How the hell does everyone else juggle more than 4? I even lost one earlier this semester. Not one of the four, but still. I'll try harder. I'm the worst out-of-sight out-of mind-er. It needs to stop. It's getting absolutely ridiculous.

Sorry I suck,
Mel

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Date:2007-01-12 10:36
Subject:Happy New Year
Security:Public

“…evidently the happy man only feels at ease because the unhappy bear their burdens in silence, and without that silence happiness would be impossible. It’s a case of general hypnotism. There ought to be behind the door of every happy, contented man some one standing with a hammer continually reminding him with a tap that there are unhappy people; that however happy he may be, life will show him her laws sooner or later, trouble will come for him—disease, poverty, losses, and no one will see or hear, just as now he neither sees nor hears others. But there is no man with a hammer; the happy man lives at his ease”

“…don’t be calm and contented, don’t let yourself be put to sleep! While you are young, strong, confident, be not weary in well-doing! There is no happiness, and there ought not to be; but if there is a meaning and an object in life, that meaning and object is not our happiness, but something greater and more rational. Do good!”

Happy New Year

from Chekov and Me

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Date:2006-11-18 05:41
Subject:Dream Killer
Security:Public
Mood: guilty

Stupid, stupid stupid. I shouldn't have said anything. But I can never seem to keep my mouth shut. I wonder if it's truly intetional. Do I intend to cause that pain? I watched him splinter. He was fine, even when I started poking. And I saw signs, but I just kept rambling on. I thought it needed to be said. But did it? I had no idea that it would make him feel that way, and I guess that's what makes it only foolhardy and not malicious. But I should've known. And that's on me. Now, being good means making the right choices in the given situation based on a clear understanding of the situation, but was this not good? It can't automatically be not good because it hurt him. Never hurting anyone is nice, not good. It's what Christainity is about nowadays. But did he need to hear it? Did I need to crush his illusions about himself and the way people see him? If I were more clever maybe I could've phrased it better. I think the end result would have been more or less the same. I open my mouth and I make people feel bad. They throw up ideas and goals and I crush them. I only did it because he goot monotonous. He was complaining and I saw the solution. I uusually see the solution. I just do it so they stop complaining. But I guess they don't always want the solution. Sometimes complaining is more satisfying, I guess. And I can understand that...at least at a surface level. I hope I didn't do any permanent damage. Well, no. I wanted to him to change his perspective and see a more realistic truth than his rose-colored version in which he was the victim. I seem to have a thing for victims. They draw me to them. I seem to put up with them when most people won't. And then I saw things that I shouldn't. But most of the time, they hit the wall, you know, that reality wall, and then instead of going down that tortuous path to self-knowledge and understanding, they bounce back to the way they were and it repeats itself. Which I seem to be adverse to, at some inner core of my being. I'm a fan of purpose and progress and I am a killer of dreams

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Date:2006-04-16 13:48
Subject:Being
Security:Public
Mood: amused

Being an arrogant ass has serious drawbacks. People tend to mistake your confidence for rightness and are much less likely to tell you when you're wrong. I realized, all of a sudden, because I'm slow like that, that hermitage isn't good. Not at all. I'm not Thoreau, no Walden is going to come out of this. People are a very large part of life and if I don't want to end up being the 30-something title character in one of those books about people who wake up one day and realize that they haven't really lived I need to wake the fuck up. I've been playing myself all along. I'm just too freaking serious. Can you believe that I thought I could actually grow past life? LIke it was a stage and that I'd already passed it. Having an ego this large cannot be healthy. And even though I said I never wanted to lie to myself again, I pontificate too damn well to entirely prevent that. I must've thought that other people would taint that pure essence that is me or something. Lol. That's definitely what I thought. I made it sound better than that though. It was part of my explanation as to why I would never be part of a sorority. Something about temptation to have my identity be formed for me. Sometimes I'm walking down the street, to work, to class, somewhere and I'm struck by my own particular brand of bullshit. It's not all bullshit, it's just the professions of someone who knows nothing but feels like she has to know everything. I seem to believe that life and living are some sort of game I can win. No, not necessarily win, just...not lose. Like if I plan and cover all my bases I can prevent cataclysmic failure. Because it would be cataclysmic. I'm limiting my options to prevent a future limiting of options. Lol. It sounds ridiculous even to me. I guess that's what I need. To step back every once in a while and laugh at me. Keep me on my toes.

Mel

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Date:2006-02-06 20:39
Subject:Chew on that
Security:Public
Mood: grateful

Relieved to discover that I indeed have a gag reflex.

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Date:2005-12-10 00:44
Subject:Re: "mel, update your blog"
Security:Public
Mood: mellow

3 months without a peep from me... It would have been longer had I not been made aware of this fact by a "reader of my lj" who decided to remain, for the time being at least, anonymous. I tried to think of something to write, something to expound upon for whatever reason. Nothing profoundly introspective called out to me. I haven't had much time for it lately. Hell, I haven't had any time for it lately. I still think, but almost every spare moment is spent planning my time, planning my stories or planning my papers. I'm very tired. Finals are about to start and those will be the worst 10 days of my college career, incomparably.

However, what's been missing? What thoughts have managed to trickle through the cracks in the grind?

written 10-26-05 during chemistry 101 lecture:
"I've decided that English and I have and unhealthy relationship. I've noticed that I like my English class more when I'm actively participating in it. My teacher has a habit of beginning the analysis of the book by looking at the beginning. I guess he's somewhat compelled because when we meet on Monday we're only expected to have read a third of the book. So I guess we can't exactly look at much else, but I'm so freaking sick of it. I have nothing better to suggest though,so I figure I should probably just keep my mouth shut. I have awful thoughts in English class. We, the people in my class and I, all think we're freaking geniuses and that by opening our mouths we're bestowing the gospel truth upon the rest of the class. But the killer is that I'm pretty sure that after the knowledge dropping, we all go home and bitch about how So-and-so thinks he/she is so damn smart. It makes me angry because I realize it and I continue to be an arrogant ass when I walk into the room. I can't seem to help it. It's the environment or something. I mean, English just isn't quite like any other class. In other classes, discussion is just an allotted time in which to get one's participation points. With English, you're trying to find that which the others don't see. It just breeds a superiority complex. I think that might just be a function of our class though. We're not trying to understand the books, apparently that's too easy or just too conventional, no , we must seek out that which has never been looked at before ( though it really has and we're just not well-read enough to know it) and then allow our genius to fall from our disdainful nonchalant lips to be lapped up by the ignorant among us (everyone else) and validated by the teacher to confirm its glory.

Shame on me for being just like the rest of them. "


written 10-28-05 during English class, scribbles at the top of my notes:
"it was a low voice for a girl, shot through with arrogance. A special kind of arrogance, too, understated, but (can't read word). In the cadence, certain words are emphasized. You could tell that she would write the way she spoke. It's hard and cold and distant, cynicism, and edge."

"arms folded over his chest, head tilted to the side, like 'Impress me'--a command--'and fail.'"


written 11-9-05 during English class, scribbles at the top of my notes:
"there was a laziness in his speech, the words seemed to roll out like he was too good to form them. As if they just happened to escape and that you should kneel, partake, and be thankful, but he wouldn't care either way. The sound was a little dead, a little bland, and uneventful, it was the attitude that gave him life."


written 11-6-05 excerpt from an e-mail to G-Money:
"...More importantly in my feverish thoughts last night while I tried to snatch 2 hours of sleep... First, I've been playing with this idea of a short story for a long time. It'd be like the manifestation of my...mission statement of sorts except not really. Um, it's be what I want to do maybe. I'm not making any sense. I'm sorry. Basically, the reason I haven't written it is because I can't plan it perfectly. It's supposed to take place in anywhere...I was hoping to do description that's Kafka-esque in the sense that there's detail, but it's detail that doesn't actually make the picture clearer when you think about it...like 2 webbed fingers, but which two. It'd be about a girl who comes across a little boy who's crying all alone. Originally I envisioned him sitting on a tree stump, but I don't know what the stump would mean. I'm thinking like... age 5-ish. I'm bad with kid's ages. Anyway, he's crying, and by crying I mean sobbing, that full throated scream-cry kids do that makes me terrified, like they put absolutely everything into it. They take those huge breaths in between sobs. Anyway, well he's crying and the girl tries to make him feel better through 3 or 4 different methods. I don't know all of them yet. She'd give him a toy, like a brand new shiny car or something and he stops crying for a while and then she comes back and he's crying again. The car is broken, and it hurts more because he loved it and lost it. Some sort of representation of material things or whatever, which doesn't work, because...well I don't have a reason yet. Then she tries something else. I'm hoping for like...3 or 4 tries but as you can see I haven't worked it out yet. One of them is that she tries to teach him his name, how to write it, how to say it, etc, which is supposed to be like... getting him to know himself, to make him stronger that way, or something. But it doesn't work either, he gets frustrated, it's too hard and so he quits and criers again. And then finally, she pulls him into her arms and there's supposed to be some grand beautifully written description of how she takes away his pain by taking it into herself. When she releases him he runs off smiling laughing, etc, happy. She's crying, well tears are streaming down her face or something and she smiles an ugly wobbly smile through the tears. The end. You can probably see why I haven't mentioned it before. I don't have a good grasp on it yet, but I get this impulse sometimes like when my dad was telling me about how crappy my uncle's life is and I look at him and he just looks so sad, or when Kam was telling me about how unhappy he is... just as a human being, I just want to take whatever it is and take it into me just so they won't have to feel it. Does that mean I'm trying to be a martyr? I just feel like I could deal, and they aren't dealing, so I would take it on me because I could bear it, whatever it is. I'm probably not explaining it very well, I'm still kinda fever-y."


written 12-08-05, excerpt from current unfinished chapter of Storyness IV
"She was taking on an awful lot of risk, but she knew no matter the outcome, she could handle it. It was part of being who she was. She had to wake up everyday with complete confidence in the fact that she could take it, whatever came at her, she could bend, but she wouldn't break"


written 11-6-05 excerpt from an e-mail to G-Money continued:
"Other stuff...oh, this is kinda old, but a while back, when Peter and I were still talking, he asked me what I was gonna do with my education...and I explained that I'm gonna go to grad school for biology and cure diseases. And he immediately said something to the effect of "Oh that's your good person thing, right?" And I was completely caught off guard. I never even dreamed of associating the two of them. I really don't think they have anything to do with each other. Curing diseases doesn't make you a good person, nice maybe, but good, not necessarily. You always ask me what I think it means and I still don't know, but I just... I know that I don't think that it's something that's institutional or done through an organization. I feel like it's personal. It's how you interact with the people around you. It's not necessarily overt. It's like...with my mom, she really touched a ridiculous amount of people. It wasn't community service, it wasn't charity, it was just taking a personal interest in everyone around you. I mean.. she knew the ice cream man when we were little, she knew his kids names and everything. It was just like acknowledging people as people and...I don't know. I can't think right now. My head's starting to hurt. I'll piece it out eventually."

As an aside... Back in October the PWBS (Penn Women's Biomedical Society) had a professional school-med school panel and we asked questions about the process and how to prepare, etc. One panelist suggesting thinking about why it is you want to do what you want to do. I my case...grad school then research...at the moment I'm thinking immunological, pathology, cell biology, maybe even cancer biology. I'd like to cure diseases. It was at the panel that I started trying to figure out why. That's what they're going to ask on the essay. G-money had asked before but none of my other answers had been satisfactory. I gave him the one I came up with grudgingly over fall break and he took it as a good one. The way I see it, I've experienced the loss of a loved one, and it is horrific, cataclysmic, and life-altering. I would not see it happen to anyone else, ever. Death is permanent, it fucks up absolutely everything around it, and I would like to save the rest of a world from a fate like my own.

I think it sounds martyr-like and squishy and just plain...common. I really don't know how to explain it. I've gotten better about looking at it. Initially, I was ashamed. I thought (and still kind of think) it's embarrassing. It's so gushingly sentimental and just...not the carefully controlled, compartmentalized person I think I want to be sometimes. It's a vulnerability...and we know how much I hate those...

So to whomever this may concern, I hope that satiates whatever desire you had.

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Date:2005-09-02 17:43
Subject:adulthood
Security:Public

As of...a few days ago I legally became an adult and ever since that date I've been doing my best to live up to my vision of what this position requires. I think I've said before that I always thought that at some point, 18, 21, some age older than my own, one stepped through a magical portal and became an adult, a better person, a responsible member of society. The past few years have wreaked havoc on this idea, but not to the point where I don't plan to make it possible for myself. We live in a world bereft of the traditional values of times past; though at times staunching and repressive, these values kept us from becoming what we are today, a people utterly spiritually empty. There is no desire to be good anymore. No desire to teach children to be good. Our supposed spiritual leaders content themselves with advocating niceness and never goodness. Because to demand something higher is oppressive. Perhaps it's subjective but at some point you have to subscribe to something even if you chose to subscribe to the philosophy of nothing at all.

I've taken up my responsibility as an adult the only way I know how. I think about other people more often, on purpose, and not necessarily those distant. I mean, it's perfectly nice of you to donate a few dollars to the relief effort for the gulf coast, or to think lament their situation and their losses, but what about the members of your own family, your friends, whom you've been overlooking for years because you're too selfish to see their pain and suffering. I cannot do everything, but I intend to try. Sometimes the most subtle of efforts can have the most profound effect. The enemy is me, the selfish, petty, indolent side of me that would rather watch tv than talk to my grandmother, would rather take my father's money than confront him about his emotional weakness, would rather succumb to the illusions of the world than to carve out my own view of myself and my world.

I'm another year older...and I can see growth in my life. I know what's happened to me this year, that it was not all for naught, that as a result of my actions and attempts to unfurl myself, I am able to embrace life more fully this year, and I plan to attempt to do so accordingly.

"To live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life!"

This year I will live

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Date:2005-08-06 13:38
Subject:In which we discover the effect of Freud
Security:Public
Mood: amused

On Change

After a conversation with a friend of some years one afternoon, I found myself startled by the change in him. The change itself is inconsequential to our purpose, but my reaction to this change was almost as surprising to me as the change itself. At first I was slightly caught off guard and a little wary of this new part of him. After leaving, I had a chance to compare this new friend with the one I thought I had known; the magnitude of the change elicited first my anger which grew into outrage and then diminished in stature to become a sad sense of betrayal. My friend had neither attacked me physically nor verbally, and yet I walked away feeling assaulted. I consulted with others and my own personal experiences to find that this is a common phenomenon and, perhaps, a natural human reaction to change.
In order to begin our investigation we must proceed with a working definition of the word 'change' meaning, for our purposes, to be or cause to be different. The nature of the change could be positive or negative, but because these classifications are subjective, we will attempt to deal with neutral changes, by which I mean those which do not affect us in either manner.
I believe a majority of people would agree that generally, human beings prefer consistency in their daily lives. Of course there are a few things out of the ordinary, a vacation, a sick day, etc, but generally there is a regular order to the day of the average person. This regularity allows for simplicity of living. One knows that there are twenty-four hours in a day and one knows that he will be awake for about sixteen of those hours and can plan his day accordingly. So what we have here is an inclination towards constancy based on the precise nature of the world we live in. The Earth takes 24 hours to revolve on its axis and exactly 365.25 of our 24 hour periodic cycles to rotate around the sun creating. It is because our environment is so mathematically precise that we have developed a predilection for regularity in our own lives.
I believe however, that a natural aversion to change is only half of the cause. We also have to consider energy expenditures. I have spent energy in the process of getting to know my friend, and then he changes. There are two ways of looking at this problem, either I never knew him to begin with (this novelty was always in him), or this is something new entirely. In the first case I have either wasted my energy or not made full use of it, and must exert more energy to the understanding of this change. In the second case, I have not wasted my energy because I understood my friend, but still must exert more energy in order to understand this new development in him as well. The conservation of energy is essential to survival for all living organisms and it is, I think, quite plausible for a natural aversion to such things which require an unforeseen energy expenditure to have arisen in the evolution of man....

I think you get the idea....

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Date:2005-07-17 23:04
Subject:heart
Security:Public

He has a good heart. And I can't help but love him for that, if for no other reason. It's beautiful and lovely and I want to save it.

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Date:2005-07-09 23:20
Subject:problem
Security:Public

Just one tiny little problem...I wanna fuck him...a lot...

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Date:2005-07-03 14:46
Subject:
Security:Public

I want to hate you for fucking up yet again...but I want to hate myself more for believing you wouldn't despite years of evidence supporting the contrary.

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Date:2005-06-14 19:43
Subject:
Security:Public

and it's never that simple...

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Date:2005-05-17 20:37
Subject:officially
Security:Public
Mood: aggravated

It's been a little over a week since I've been home and two days since my parents have been home and this whole...home thing is officially not cute

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Date:2005-05-01 18:28
Subject:on judgement and criteria
Security:Public
Mood: mellow

I respect very few people in this world. And it's beginning how to affect the way I treat those whom I do not respect...which is a lot of people. We all know that I judge regularly and severely, but it recently came to my attention yesterday while another person I had hopes for turned out to be less than I thought she would be, that maybe my criteria are a little off. When I discuss things with people... the biggies generally center around how you see the world. And most times the questions I ask are things people have never considered. But I don't understand how you can live even close to fully, or even truly without having grappled with these sorts of things. So I assume that you're not there yet, or at the least not where I am, which isn't very far either. But by the same token, I've been asked things I haven't thought about before...but they're usually superficial things that don't actually require much thought. I don't know. I'm sure it's terribly arrogant of me to assume that my questions are those that are essential to life and everyone else's aren't....and yet...I have yet to be shown otherwise. We shall see.

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Date:2005-04-24 00:00
Subject:
Security:Public

I don't like you very much

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Date:2005-04-13 01:04
Subject:you heard it here first
Security:Public

So...Nick and Jessica are getting a divorce. She had been having an affair with Johnny Knoxville on the set of uh...that movie where she plays Daisy Duke. And we'd all been thinking that Nick was the bad one. The last four episodes of the newlyweds have been staged.

The grapevine rules all...it's not even out out yet and I know!

Mel

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Date:2005-04-06 18:05
Subject:suckin
Security:Public
Mood:low

sucking as a human being sucks

absolutely

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Date:2005-03-23 10:45
Subject:unworthy
Security:Public
Mood:bruising

Being overlooked always makes me wonder if I'm overlooking others. And then I wonder if the reason I was overlooked was that I wasn't worth looking at in the first place

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