There is this oppressive thought that keeps banging in my brain (that organ that is often abandoned due to the loud interference of my breasts) saying I am not supposed to blog.
“But,” I plead, “I need to blog. I like to blog. All I ever wanted in my whole life was to blog… why can’t I blog?”
“Because,” I answer, “if you blog, you will go to hell. You will spill forth secrets and abandon your work, ignore your children, never do laundry or clean and you will just be a sucky, sucky person.”
Now, the OLD Melia would take that as a really good reason to blog, because the OLD Melia was always on the look out for blog material. OLD Melia would search the Internets for inspiration to resurrect her UnCool Girl series (uh, does two blogs count as a series?) or bitch about life chug-a-lug bleach. That’s OLD Melia. Fun Melia. Melia, uncensored.
But, New Melia is now (sorta) living the dream and while its VERY FUCKING DIFFICULT (ahem) to keep up the pace, Melia really digs the work she does (and, that is super important, right?). She likes that she can work, clean (heh), volunteer at the school and will soon start helping at the women’s shelter. She is looking forward to integrating new therapy times at home for her “special needs” kids. She is happy to help with homework, meal planning, shopping and all of that other stuff that takes her “4 hour workday” and extends it to 18 hours. HAPPY. HAHAHAHAHA! The problem is… New Melia has little time for fun, anymore. Melia manages to blog about not having anything to blog about, which bores Melia to no end. Oh, and Melia is blogging in third person.
Melia needs to get out. Soon.
I am all out of sorts today, and that’s never good for a Virgo who needs order in her life because she has no “real” boss, just a handful of clients, children and other people she must micromanage.
In general, I look forward to Mondays because its always been a “freebie” day for me. I get to touch base with clients, blog about my unfabulous weekend (remember when I was out and about doing shit all the time? Bring back Bizarro World!), pull a few cards and just kind of bullshit around.
Not this Monday. No. Because I have a bunch of stuff to do, and I’ve rearranged my schedule so that I’m not always playing catch up. Unfortunately, that required I put in about 300 extra hours over the weekend, making my weekend a new level of suck and causing intermittent fantasies about a) my laptop permanently attaching itself to my thighs (I NEED A CHAIR) or b) throwing the laptop out of the window and using Halloween as a clever way to extort money from my neighbors.
I am, in a word, boring. Even my new habit of watching courtroom dramas hasn’t inspired much life in me. So, when my dearest friend and favorite letter, Q, nominated me (among the throngs of 300 million others) as a “Must Follow Personality” on Mashable (my bible), it took me about three seconds to re-tweet her nod and jump over here to write a blog about why I’m NOT a “Must Follow Personality.”
DO NOT FOLLOW ME. Why? I’m glad you asked…
- It gives me the creeps and I have enough stalkers. Really, its true. Plus, there’s nothing good going on that I’m actually going to blog about.
- I lied, there’s a ton of stuff going on, and as soon as the coast is clear, I’mma be a blogging maniac. Then I’ll be an over-blogger and you’ll hate me.
- I live with 4 kids, two adult men and a slew of animals. I also drink tea made from the wings of crickets and I’ve developed a new way to turn string cheese into banjo strings.
- I’m a pathological liar.
- No, I’m not.
- My name really is Melia, and I live in California.
- I have good days, bad days, gay days and days where I like to bust out with random declarations of love for various Internet-related successes I’ve achieved. I’m tired of my phone, laptop and Firefox, especially, fucking up ALL THE TIME.
- When I actually DO blog, its long and random and even my BFFs don’t read what I say. They even tell me that. Haters.
- I don’t have a nice ass. You can ask anyone.
Anyhoodle, that’s all I have to say about that. Its time for a SOTW because, once again, I’m being stalked by the radio.
Love this version, BTW
The pressure. Gaah!
I was reading a book about bullying to The Twitches last night, thinking about how much bullying has affected the lives of my own children. Bullies, the book says, can be boys or girls, children or adults. They bully because they don’t like themselves, because they want to feel powerful. Heh.
“Do you feel like a man when you push her around?” the song says…
Emo Boy was taunted as “gay” for wearing a leather jacket to school. Enigma is battling the bullies now over his need for training wheels on his bike, at age 10. My children are not immune from abuse and bullying, as much as I love them, its a sad fact that they will have to face bullying. No amount of “I was mistreated” is an excuse to be a bully… an abuser. While many victims of bullies may not end their lives, the emotional scars left behind can be just as damaging. This goes for the LGBTQ community more now than ever. For women and children in abusive homes. For kids with disabilities. For people of a different race or religion. For the “good guys” who finish last… for me, my friends and my children.There is no excuse. You know right from wrong. You know that just because someone is different from you, that you cannot understand them, you do not have the right to terrorize them. Ever. But you do. And, again, you are pathetic.
Stop the bullying. Stop the abuse. Don’t take an emotional crap on someone you think is more vulnerable than you. Its not bullying or abuse that defines power and strength, its the ability of the victim to keep moving forward, despite the abuse. Suicide should never be a solution to bullying or abuse, ever. I am sad for the boys who felt it was their only escape, and sadder for their family and friends. No more children or adults should be forced to end their torment in such a manner.
No more should the abuse be tolerated.
In support of Spirit Day, please know that not everyone hates the LGBTQ community. We walked last year, and we continue to make changes in the laws that govern our lives… things that should never be governed to begin with. For each bully out there, there are more and more supporters and more people who love and care about you than you may ever know. You are beautiful, you are amazing, and no matter which side of the fence you’re on, you are loved.
I tried to write a professional-sounding blog for my professional-looking website that defines my professional nature and what I do when I’m not screwing around online… but I couldn’t do it.
Why? Because there is no good way to tell someone that perhaps their social media campaign is stalling due to their appearance or the appearance of their profile. This goes far beyond the stereotypical social profile that shows a topless moment on the beach or that frat photo involving a toilet and a brick of cheese. Furthermore, by even bringing it up, I’m buying into the culture I hate, the one that is based upon appearances and then by advising a change in profile picture, or an increase in a certain demographic of friends, I’m advocating for, in a sense, plastic social media surgery. This is a huge conflict of my usually-vapid interests.
In marketing, whether online or off, there are demographics to consider when attracting new clients and customers, and we are all judged upon our appearances before any sort of product or business impression emerges. Online, our first impression can be a particularly dorky picture of us doing a headstand or even an illustration of a tornado. We are judged by that profile image, just like we are judged by the friends on our profiles… much like the old saying about being judged by the company we keep. It is a sad, and sickening realization, and I’m throwing in the towel to resume my tie dye career.
No, I’m not, but this really bugs me.
How do you tell someone who is paying you to work magic on their business that their business would be more magical if they maybe used a different spokesperson?
I should not clean mirrors. Somehow, I pulled a muscle in my back while cleaning my bathroom mirror, and now I’m philosophizing (is that even a word? Firefox didn’t underline it…) about how stupid it is to clean when it all just gets dirty again and again. Yet, I press on, and it freaking hurts.
As I Tweeted, Hamburger Helper is NOT a home-cooked meal.
I don’t understand facial tattoos, at all.
On a related note, looking at mug shots is scary.
I had the most surreal experience yesterday with my jewelry. Clearly, someone needs to send me new stuff, because what I’ve been wearing is protesting its usefulness.
I’d like to nap, but I’m afraid the fate of the world rests on my ability to stay awake, so I’m about to get my 3rd cup of coffee this afternoon and take some B-12.
I told a certain song to fuck off today, because I’m not going through that shit again.
Yard Sale Bloodbath may be my new favorite blog.
…3 hours later…
I’ve cleaned. I’ve vacuumed, swept, discovered my steam mop is broken, and I’m about to cook dinner for the first time since Labor Day. Melia, this is your life!
*Manifesting mountain home, complete with hypnosis to cure fear of heights, and staff of minions to serve my every whim*