Well, well. I don't have too much to say this evening. I only had to work for three hours today. It was great. The reason being because I had dinner with a friend who's in town. She lives in Tibet, and is visiting for a while. Probably one of the most magnificent people I know. Still not moved in. But that's okay with me. It'd be nice, though. Last night was very refreshing. I had a very pleasent evening with some people I have never hung out with, and I enjoyed their company tremendously. Much laughter was had by all. It's nice to meet people who can talk about the same things that I do, and have the same passions as well. It was just a good night had, after a shitty day. Not because anything extremely bad happened, but I'm kicking birth control, and my hormones are going crazy, and not in a good way. Realizing that you aren't at all yourself because of a substance, and not being able to do anything about it is terrible. Believe me. School is coming along quite well. I seem to be becoming more responsible by the day. I'm going to class and doing my work now. That's a plus. Tomorrow is going to be a long day, however. Class at 10am, leave early to go to work at 11:45, but I'm working front, so hopefully I'll make a few extra bucks, which I'll promptly spend on cigs. Off work at 1:30pm, yeah, we close at 1:30, to re-open at 4pm... Work at 4, until 10, and then go babysit, which is fine. I don't mind at all because the kid will be asleep by then anyway. The strange problem is that I don't want to be payed, so I'm going to have to think of something tricky to say. I think I know what I'll say, though, so I'm sure it won't be too hard. Then the party begins at around 1:30 or so. Not really, I'll probably just walk around and smoke and think. I'm pretty good at those things. Probably better at smoking than walking. Ha. Okay, bed now. Oh wait, I came up with a conclusion that seems good. It pertains to hanging out with people I don't really know. I concluded that this is the best way to go about things. Not getting too connected to anyone. Maintaining friendships but avoid bonding. That's my rule. I don't know about rule, but it seems like a safe idea. That way things won't ever get messy or weird. There won't be any drama or shit to deal with. Not because I just don't give a fuck, but because those things won't come up if I am always mixing up who I hang out with. That's the ideal anyway, what I hope for. Because last night was just a good time, and nothing sucked about it. I didn't even really know these people except from brief interludes and such. Jokes and laughter, that was it, and it was beautiful. Because I think, when you become too close or connected or whatever, things get intimate and ew. That's all I have to say about that. It's hard to get sick of people you rarely chill with. Even though I'd like to get to know some a little better, I'll still maintain my distance. Maybe it'll work. or maybe this is just adolecent Megan coming up with dumb ideas. But I'm sure eventually she'll figure it out. Until next time...

That sounds stupid. Let's see... I think I had it right with "Okay, bed now."


Man, I really think there is something that music does to your brain. Right now I'm listening to TOOL cover No Quarter (for the record, I like both versions for differing reasons) and I'm in some kind of crazy music trance. Anyway, today seems like a huge waste, now that I reflect on all that I've done. Today was one of those days where you remember that a few months ago you thought you were on the verge of some transformation or just a simple change or something, then realize that nothing has happened yet. Locked in a place where no one goes. I can't write at the moment. Sorry.


SOME say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I?ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice

Robert Frost. I like this poem a lot. I'm feeling pretty shabby. It bothers me that whenever I come here, to write out my mind, it's always about how I feel this or that. It would be nice to simply write something profound, that has completely nothing to do with me and my so called "feelings." But it just so happens that I am always in some mood, and think/feel that if I was not to write it down, something would be lost to my ever changing mind. In that I mean I wouldn't be learning from myself and progressing as an individual. Sometimes I think that if I were to write out whatever it is that I'm thinking/feeling, it might help me sort out my thoughts and come up with some conclusion. I'm just feeling horribly horrible right now, and should probably just go to bed and distance myself from any sort of introspective thoughts. But sometimes I just can't resist a good write. The two prominent muscles running up the back of my neck are very tense right now. I've been so restless since about 5pm tonight. I haven't been able to be at peace on my day of rest. Seems like a waste. Hm. I bet that every individual feels like the center of the universe. Not that it can be helped, all you have is your own mind. You sort of have to feel that way. I wish I didn't. I hate that I can only think of my thoughts and opinions. Does that make sense. I don't think so. See, I don't think that makes sense, but maybe someone else does. ...But I do think it makes sense because I wrote it... Anyway, the moral of the story is that I had this dream last night, and I'm just remembering it now. It took place in this large room, almost like a warehouse. I was in there, rummaging around through all these thousands of boxes. They were boxes belonging to thousands of people. I knew some of the people the boxes belonged to. One box was my brother Blake's. And for some reason he was off at war, and I didn't know if he was dead or not, so I started sobbing because I was terrified that he was dead. I believe it turned out that he wasn't, but by the time I figured that out I was to preoccupied with being chased by this bear. I was in this house trying to barricade myself in; sticking refrigerators in front of doors and such. It was very strange. I'm just thinking about that room with all the boxes in it. It was all dirty and old. I was just looking through all this stuff. My dreams are very emotional. That particular dream was extremely terrifying. With bears and brothers dying and such. Weird. I am still having dreams where I cut all my hair off, too. It usually all happens in different ways, once I was electrocuted and my hair started falling out, so I just shaved my head, and another time I was in Pittsburgh and just started chopping my hair off with these blunt scissors. Sometimes I'm euphoric that I cut it off, and other times I just start crying. I feel very alone right now. All night I've felt like I should spend time alone, but I've desperately wanted to be talking to people. I'm so bizarre. I wish I could just figure it out. Or not care. I was reading this article tonight about committing suicide, which to editorialize, said that everyone should contemplate suicide to know what it feels like and to understand why people feel that way. Suicide is a tricky thing. When I've been at a peaceful place in life, and have taken the chance to look back on my younger days when I was suicidal and masochistic, I think about how silly that was, how it didn't make much sense them or now, and how I'd never go back there again because life is beautiful now, I often forget that depression is an addictive crutch. That when you want to die, it isn't simply because things suck, it's because of this horrible realization that life is pretty much futile. And people have told me that if they were thinking about killing themselves, they would just leave where they were and start over in some new place. I thought that for a while too, but that isn't the point either, when you have that horrible realization, a change of scenery isn't the answer. Getting it over with is the answer. I know this all sounds really futuristic, but I get this way at night when I'm all by myself, so bear with me. The fact is that you get trapped, and when things don't pick up, it gets hopeless and just seems like a giant waste of time, your time and everyone elses?, so you end it. This is weird. I read too many essays tonight. I feel like I'm stating to write one. The moral of the story kids, is that when you aren't living for anything and nothing is living for you, except yourself, you feel like it's just time to check out. Gotta go. Thanks. The other moral of the story is that being, or feeling alone, sucks. So once again, I wish I was a housecoat, and wasn't going to a school I hate, and had a decent job, and didn't live in ohio, and was beautiful, and had people who understood me. Maybe I just create this scenario in my own mind. And maybe I'm just having a pity party here. Yeah, well, no one's invited, so take your grab bags and get the fuck out. Because it's my fuckin' turn to blow my fuckin' horn and tell the world that I hate it and the majority of it's inhabitants. Especially the one's who talk about them goddamn selves' all the time. And no, that doesn't include me because I'm am on a computer writing to myself, not blabbing my life story to you in person. You chose to read this!!! This blog is not called "Read This Because I Said You Have To, Or Else!!!" And even if it was you still wouldn't have to read it. Anyway. That sentence took so long to write, what with the italicized words and all that I forgot what I was saying... Yes, so I don't know what I was talking about, let me reread... Oh, well I think I've said all I need to about that for now. Except the thing about the people who talk about themselves all the time! Man, oh, man, I know that all you really have to talk about is in fact yourself, BUT that doesn't mean that you can't stop for one fucking second and ask a bloody question or nod your fucking head. Augh! Okay done. But Jimi has a few words to say first:

Manic Depression's touching my soul,
I know what I want,
but I just don't know how to go about getting it.

Feeling, sweet feeling
drops from my finger, fingers
Manic Depression's captured my soul.

Woman so willing the sweet cause in vain,
you make love,
you break love,
it's-a all the same when it's...
when it's over.

Music sweet music,
I wish I could caress, caress, caress.
Manic Depression's a frustrating mess.
Well, I think I'll go turn myself off an' go on down.

Really ain't no use me hanging around.
Oh, I gotta see you.


Today was pretty bad. I'm going to sort of vent now, because I refrain from venting to anyone in person. I have gotten about five hours of sleep in the past 72 hours, and man does that suck. I could never be an insomniac, not full fledged anyway, because I love sleep. It is my haven of sorts. But I haven't had too much sleep as of late, and that makes me a bit cranky. I stayed up last night writting a paper, after having to close at work by myself. Woke up to go to class. Was very late, but I said to myself, "Self, you gotta go to class, it's imperative that you be responsible and don't skip." So I went, and all we did was sit in a pland, grayish room, and listen to this lady tell us how to use a computer. I tried not to sleep, but I couldn't resist. I also tried to make it look like I was in fact paying attention, by sitting up, and cocking my head to one side, so as to look like I was pondering or something, but still managed to fall asleep. I have this genetic tendency to fall asleep in any postion at any time or place, no matter how uncomfortable. Anyhow, somehow I woke up as my prof told us to "give her a hand," and did so. Drove home. Drank chocolate milk. Bad idea, having become lactose intolerant and all. But I couldn't resist the silky smooth taste. Started moving in right away. Did that until I had to work. My friend convinved me to close again. I figured I needed the money anyhow, and closing with this friend wouldn't be so bad because we laugh a lot. Turns out that a few hours later he convinced someone else to close for him, and I was stuck closing with incompitent people. Nice. Go to Grounds on break to hear other people problems. Around 11pm this Christian college group called "cru" With an umlat over the "u," comes in and there are like 40 of them. I do the best I can to help the front girl. We do just fine. The "cru" group is really nice to us. And leave us a $12 tip. Thanks. Oh so much. I decided that I'm just going to tell them that they didn't show much of God's love, and I'm going to tell all my athiest friend that Christians are stingy bastards, and that they should never go to church. That'll hit um where it hurts. Anyhow, work ends around 12:30. I find that I've locked my keys in my car. Walking home to get my other set. Walk past Howards. Hip-hop show I wanted to see. I go in. It was awesome. It really compensated for everything that went wrong today. Friends and fun. And I love seeing people love music. It really makes me a happy person. Because music is what I live for. And I've come to the conclusion that, with the acception of a few genres, I don't mind what music it is, as long as people feel it. Now there are some, such as Brittny Spears or any pop crap that don't count in that conclusion, for, in my mind, obvious reasons. I just like to see people who love music as much as I do. Anyhow, I'm really tired, and having a hard time typing and am misspelling a lot of things, and I don't really care to fix it right now. I'm a bad speller, and I know it. I was always the first one out in the Spelling B's. That reminds me, I need to purchase that Spelling B documentary. It's hilarious. Yes, so signing off...


She was standing in front of the door, shouting some alternate form of English. "She's drunk," I thought to myself, "and I'm hungry." She separates me from my home fries, so I forcefully push her to the side so that I can open the door. The door's locked. I'm confused. "Um, did you just push me?" she slurs at me. "Um, yeah..." I say, still confused. "Do you wanna go?" Go where? Now I'm very confused, and my stomach is still empty. I look inside the Corner Grill at the laughing face of Kelly, one of the waitresses. The drunk girl is wearing a white shirt and has a scar on her nose, yet still maintains a prissy aura. Now I remember her, she's the girl who was at Howard's, sitting at the bar with her tits hanging out. She had called Chris Anderson "sir," which made me scoff. Niki approaches the door, her eyes huge and full of rage. "Why is the door locked?" I'm thinking. And then the pieces fall into place. "Oh, now I get it..." crosses my mind. Niki unlocks the door. Oh thank god. Food now. Niki is on a cell phone, talking to the police. "Do you have any idea who I am?" drunky babbles. "My dad is a big time lawyer in Northwest Ohio!" Niki shows the girl that she's talking to the police. The girl bolts. I get it now. I laugh, find a seat and order my food. Finally.
Okay, so I just came to Owens at 1:45 pm to meet with my African American Studies group, and no one is here. I hate this. Should I just stay here or go home. I have another class at 5 pm. Man, this is aggravating. I've been working my ass off the make money, and it seems like I'm making less than when I don't try. My cats need fixed, but now I have to wait two weeks to get a membership card for planned pethood. And the mandatory membership costs $10. And it's $42 to get one female cat spayed. I hate money. Oh, I guess I'm breaking the rules by not using this computer for Library Research. Ah, well. I'm so agitated right now. I think I'm going to go back home. Even though I don't want waste the gas, scratch that, I just found one of the people in my group...


Last night seemed like a good night to die. I know that sounds weird, but I was very angry at human tendencies. I hate being stuck in my own mind, and having people refuse to listen to me. Not that everything I say is the resolution for everything, but I try to stay as humble as I can, resisting telling people what I'm really thinking. I know I resolved to be an honest person, and hold to that, however, I realize that if you tell someone something they might disagree with or try to tell them they are wrong, the likelihood of them saying, "you know, you're right," is more than impossible. I don't know. I just feel like I shouldn't say anything at all. Because what will it matter if no one is going to listen to your thoughts anyway. No one turns ideas over in their heads before they come up with a conclusion. Everyone claims to be so open minded, but when it really comes down to it, everyone I know that says that is the opposite. I think they mistake having liberal ideas for open mindedness. People can have open ideas, not open minds. Last night was just very awkward for me. In many ways. I just had a hard time coping. I don't know. I drove around for a really long time. Just thinking and listening to music, which is the one thing I am very good at. Anyway, I just bought a very fine bottle of wine, and am going to go drink it in celebration of a friend's twenty-first birthday. Tah.


Augh. I'm kind of at this point at the moment where I'm thinking, "How did this happen again..." This being procrastination. I thought we were sort of through Procrastination! I'm like the abused girlfriend, always running back to what never does me any good. That being procrastination. It's been a good day, it's just now, at 1 am, when I'm realizing that I need to have a paper written tomorrow. I don't know what it's about. So there really isn't anything I can do... It's a group project you see. And group projects and I do not get along. So, I don't know what everyone else in my group is doing. Because, although I called them, they didn't call me until about 7 pm this evening. They live in Toledo. I don't know where. She just left a message telling me to "stop over." I don't blame them. It's me who's at fault here. For being a stupid, slack-ass. I suppose I've been somewhat busy, but I certainly could have found the time if I had tried hard enough. So I guess we'll see how this one plays out. Life is just one adventure after another in the wonderful world of Megan. Ehh, I don't know. Anyway, I know what I'm gonna do, it just a matter of whether it correlates to everyone else's, and if not, will the teacher care. Today I was in fact busy, I had class, went to Lima, and did a radio show. However, the only thing I really truly had to do was go to class. But I'd been planning this Lima thing for weeks, and didn't want to let a friend down, slash, I wanted to go a lot. We went to Lima to go to this fine dining experience. Her dad does these fund-raisers where he cooks exquisite food, and we watch a movie. Fun. Well, to an extent. The food was great, but the atmosphere was less than refreshing. For instance, it was just a bunch of chochy richy riches and their fancy clothes. No ethnic diversity to be seen, just a large group of pretentious white people talking about their money bags. I mean for real, it was weird and uncomfortable. My father works in Lima now though, so her was there. He is the director of this exhibition hall called "Artspace," which is pretty damn cool, but my parents aren't anything like the people I met tonight, and oh man, am I grateful. The group we were sitting with was a couple, and this friend of that couple. Then my parents and my friend. To describe the couple: Older man, maybe just fifty, and she was beautiful and maybe thirty. Love? Unlikely. He's a very rich man, and she was probably the high school nerd. She never laughed at his jokes, and from what I remember, didn't really talk to him at all. He made a few comments, it was awkward. The other man: He lives in Las Vegas, from Minnesota. A doctor of sorts. Comes to Lima about every month. Why? Not sure. I think him and the lady are having an affair. Just speculation. Anyhow, this man was a key expert in the OJ Simpson trial. He apparently is the man at the hospital who tells families that their loved ones are dead. So, the court asked him if OJ's grief response to his wife's death was believable or not. Blah blah blah. The three start talking about when the verdict was about to be passed the rooms in which everyone watched the verdict (on TV) were segregated. And as the innocent verdict was passed the African Americans all nodded, while everyone else gasped. They thought this was well, disgusting. And the pretentious white people across from me shook THEIR heads. Luckily, my mom piped up and made a good point about the bigger picture of things. That of which being, the pigeonhole that society places on minorities, and to not see a black man given the guilty sentence was the issue. I hope that makes sense. Anyway, yes. These people I sat with tonight have never in their lives witnessed poverty. Mommy and Daddy sent them to college and bought their cars and their clothes and their whatever the fuck. That pisses me off. Not that I never had these luxuries, but because they are so ignorant. They've never known what it's like to be just scraping by. To have to do rich people laundry and pull their weeds and do their dishes in order to live. They told my friend, who's father was the chef of the evening, that it must have been nice having such a chef for a father, all these good meals all the time must have been lovely as a child. To which she responded that no, she hadn't enjoyed these things because they didn't have any money. She ate soup from a can and pretzels. What!? I don't understand. Per-ret-zeeleh??? What is this thing you speak of? Yeah, to put it plainly, they didn't get it. Whatever, these are the people who will run our country. These prisses of society. It makes me want to puke. But on a lighter note, I got to be a radio personality tonight. My friend has a show, and asked me to join. Much fun was had. There was even a moment of accidental dead air, so she made me just bullshit for about twenty seconds. I made up this story about wearing a winter coat and flip-flops, and being made fun of, but how I'm a hypocrite because I detest tank-top sweaters. But I never got to finish the story. I said, "Because," and the song started. And I got to picks songs out, too. I picked a song from the Royal Tenenbaums, and Wesley Willis, and The Dead Kennedy's, and I don't know if there was anything else. But it was fun, nonetheless. So, I'm going to go to bed now, but one last story first. So, I'm crossing the street yesterday, it's dark, I'm crossing Wooster, heading down Main. The little man comes up on the screen, and tells me it's time to walk, so I do. I'm walking, listening to my headphones, thinking per usual. Red car. Turning. Towards me. Fast. Screeches on the breaks a foot away from me. I just look at the lady. She looks at me. I keep walking. The weird thing about that story is I didn't flinch. I didn't even bat an eye. I don't understand. I just kept walking. I saw her coming, and just kept walking. So, I suppose it was partially my fault, but inadvertently. Just as much as it was her's. Weird. I just kept on walking. She could have plowed me. Just kept on walking. I just wasn't even thinking about it. I thought she would stop. She didn't, kept walking. I didn't give her a dirty look or the finger. I don't see what that would have achieved. It was just strange. So now it's time for bed.


I was just eating a really delicious apple, and about 15 seconds ago, dropped it on the floor. I'm pissed. Martha is talking to me. She makes this noise that's like a meow/purr in the back of her throat. It sort of sounds like a faint, high pitched Chewbacka noise. Man, what a day. It really has simply been that, a day. A day in the life of Megan Elizabeth, with a few perks. First perk, wearing a huge down (you know, like the goose feathers...) coat. Bright orange. It belongs to a friend of mine, who was going to move to Alaska, bought this righteous, warm coat, didn't go to the Arctic, and presently has this coat just laying around. Enter Megan into that picture. Anyway, wore the coat, which was spectacularly bright and bulky, however, it swished. It reminds me of Seinfeld. George wants that awesome suit, and after many an outwitting with another man of simular stature, gets it, and finds out that it swishes. Fu-nee. I just made Martha freak out and puff up by making this quiet, high pitched noise with my mouth. Yes, so, apart from the coat were just a few funny things that happened. Like paying for a pack of cigs with pennies. And paying for a cup of coffee with pennies. My friend was working so I just put all the pennies on the counter, pushed them towards her with both hands and said, "One cup of coffee, please." What a fuck I am. I think I did well on my Astronomy exam, and got extra points for staying after the test was over. See, I got to class at 5:10 pm, was done with the test roughly by 5:35 pm, and we had to come back to class at 6:25 pm. So I decided to tough it out, and it was worth it. Plus, I got to play with magnets. But I did fall asleep on some couch whilst awaiting the re-convention of class. Anyway, I'm just talking about my day, that's boring. Let's see... Hmmm... I shaved for the first time in a long, long, really fuckin' long time. I was using this lady razor, and it just wasn't doing the job at all. So I found a Mach 3, and yeowza. That sure did the trick. Ever since I decided that waxing my legs would be a good idea, last spring, (it wasn't by the way, never do it) the hair on my legs has grown back in patches. I look so weird and sickly. It's funny though, at least I think so, which probably means that 99% of the world won't think that's funny at all. Note to self: don't tell that story. Yes, so, I am a shaved women I am, and I've never felt better... I even put sensual body oil on my legs, for a silky smooth finish. How lovely. By sensual body oil, I mean Kroger brand. Go me. Yeah, so I'd really like to be moving in to the apartment now. Thanks. Thad be great. I just really need somewhere to chill out that isn?t where I?m living now, or Grounds. Because, just in case no one noticed, I?m there all the fucking time. I'm just now realizing how 12.5 hours ago, I was just getting out of class, and was very relieved. But time has just passed me by, and I wonder what I have achieved today. Class. Went to parents. Bath. Shave. Shower. Eat. Find money. Buy smokes. Buy coffee. Rewrite notes for Astronomy test. Class. Lauren's house. Pizza. Sit with friends at Grounds. On computer. Yeah, that was my day, and by my calculations, all I did that was productive was shave. Man, this post is dull. I suppose I could talk about how pointless life is, but I don't feel like it right now. My brain is sort of fried. Well. Bedtime. And remember kids, if someone makes you mad, just put some shit in a paper bad, light it on fire, set it in front of that stupid person's door, ring the doorbell, find somewhere to hide and watch the fun begin. That's what I'm gonna do this weekend. If anyone wants to help, let me know. There's this stupid man I know, and I want him to step in poop. And he?ll say, "It's poop again!" Even if it's the first time...


I just drove around with my friend for an hour looking for Crybaby Ln. It was a whole lot of funny. We thought we found it at one point. We came to this sign that read "DEAD END no exit" and freaked out a lot. And kept saying "skees skees skees..." There's this song where some guys says that a lot. Anway. I just did a little research. And discovered that it IS in fact on Euler (?) Rd. We are dumb. And scared. I just read a lot of ghost stories and I'm scared now. It reminds me of this dream I had where I was in Mexico or something, and I met this girl. I didn't realize it at first, but soon found out that she was a ghost, after she showed me her grave. She asked me to help her find her mom. So I took her hand, and we looked around. She looked really sad, and had no skin pigment. It was weird. Anyway. I'm unnerved a lot, so I'm going to go crawl in bed with Lauren. I hope she isn't naked. Ighm...


Yeah, so that was weird. I was about to "log in," and I saw this blog that said "Hot Ambercrombie Chick." So I thinks to myself, "Hey self, this oughta be a good laugh." *Click* Up pops pictures of "Amanda." "Hi, I'm a college freshman blah blah blah, I'm a philosophy major, let's talk about welfare." "Oh ya," I'm thinking, "Let us talk about welfare..." And then she turned out to be really smart and beautiful. It was humbling. It was ludicrous. I don't understand. How deceptive. Anyway. That kills me, seeing girls who are as equally intelligent as they are stunningly beautiful. I just think to myself, "That isn't right. No one should be given the full package." I mean come on now. What gives. Can't they have something wrong?! For real. I don't know. I suppose it shouldn?t matter. Comparing yourself to others never leads to any good. No good at all. Hm. I'm exhausted. I sure could go for some fun right now. Not even proverbial fun so much as, as something new. Oh, by the way, I have a plan for what I want to do in life. Yeah, I'm excited. So here's what I'm gonna do: Make films. Or movies, whatever. I was just thinking tonight about how I've made films in the past, and how much I enjoyed every second of it. Every tedious second. Hours and hours of editing were completely worth it. Because the project always got better, every second I was perfecting it. And the final outcome was magnificent. To me at least. I just really enjoy doing that. So that's what I'm going to do. Step one: Get camera. Step two: Get G5. Step three: Make movies. Now that's settled... I should be moved in by this week. Rapture. We're going to have a tuna party. My mom got me 5 lbs. of tuna for x-mas. Not in individual cans either. Oh no. Just one big can, with one big fuckin' fish on the label. Yup. Lenny and Carl are going to be euphoric. Licking their little kitty lips. And they deserve it. Because come this Saturday, their ovaries will be no more. [Insert evil laugh here] No, I really didn't want to take those away from them, but after seeing them in heat, I was grossly disgusted, and they just seemed miserable. I told them the other day that they were going to be inside cats once again. They said "yeay." In cat, of course. "Mew!" That's more like it. Man, I'm so bored right now. Just so goddamn bored. And unclean. Working at a pizza place, you just acquire filth by the minute. And I've worked all day today and yesterday. No shower since. Hm. Disgusting. Well... Hmph. I have a lot on my mind, but I can't really bring individual thoughts to the surface. They?re all just sort of buzzing about. Can?t catch them. Martha is bonkers, I'll tell you that much. I just had a stare down with her about ten minutes ago. I so won. And I think I scared her a lot. Who?s the alpha cat now, bitch. I think it will be nice to have an apartment to go to. A bit more personal, even though I'm living with someone. A place to go and be, instead of Grounds or... Grounds. That's sad. And ever so much more debauchery. Yesss! Looking forward to that. I think what I need right now is time alone, though. Solitary debauchery. A lot. Time a lot alone a lot... By myself. Sometimes I don't like only listening to my brain, but it needs to be done. And no more chicken. I'm quitting chicken, for real this time. Chicken is out! And I'm going to get my lip pierced. And I'm going to be honest all the time. And make friends. And I'm going to run ten miles a day, without stopping. Stay on a low/no carbohydrates diet. Write that novel. Win that nobel peace prize. Save that baby from that well. Eat my Wheaties. Fuck! I'm even going to start a band. And rock out. [cock in, thank you.] For real this time...


So, my friend Lauren was just telling me about how she was staring into her cats face earlier today, and as she gazed, the cat began to look more and more like a human being. This scared the shit out of her, and she proceeded to push the cat forcefully away. She was scared of her cat. Weird. Drama kills me. For real. It kills my brain and my heart. I've been having a really hard time dealing with it lately. Every time I encounter it I just feel like walking away from the people causing it. You know, just leaving. Or I have these thoughts cross my mind while the drama is occurring. They mainly involve me freaking out and screaming and jumping out car doors to escape the annoyance of excess human emotion. Salvation fantasies is what I shall call them. And as my face hits the pavement I'll breath a sigh of relief. I'd like to make more friends. Searching for friends. I've never in my entire life been in a social group. I've never had a "clique" or a steady group of comrades. I don't think I'll ever have that either. I can't tell if that's sad or not. I've just always had Lauren. I think that is more than sufficient. She's the only one who understands the way my mind works. I'm moving in with another lady, and I don't think she knows how bizarre I am. I was joking around with Lauren at work the other day, and she looked at us like we were psychopaths. Is she in for a treat. That was nothing. Lauren and I made up this game this summer that involved pretending to be different people, usually lovers, arguing. We would start screaming at each other, then laugh hysterically. I can't imagine what people watching us thought. It would usually be between two lovers who had drifted apart, and were berating one another. She would say,
"I haven't loved you for years!"
"Well, you know my work keeps us apart. That new archeological dig in Egypt is a big deal, and I have no time for your petty emotions."
"It doesn't matter, I've been seeing someone else."
"Not that sleazy pool cleaner, Lucas."
"Yes, don't act so surprised. It's not anything new."
"You mean..."
"Yes, that's right, we've been together for about three years now, ever since he saved me from that escaped tiger. If you even cared a little you would have known. We leave for Aruba in four days."
"I see. Well, in that case I won't bother to put you in the Will."
"What in God's name do you have a Will for?! You're perfectly well."
"I don't suppose you care, but, well, you see, I'm dying. The doctor says I have a brain tumor the size of a grape fruit. I have about two months to live."
"Don't act so sympathetic. I could never believe another word you said after all you just confessed to me."
"It can't be..."
"Well, it is, and you get nothing. You heartless bitch."

That was fun. I'm really tired. Stupid double shift. Stupid no fun that I had tonight. Stupid stupidness of people. Stupid song. What song you mean? Fuckin' bitches at the Holiday Inn. Augh. Get out of my brain. Well, all I have to say is that I... I don't know.
What to do. What to do. Antisocial evenings have been a rarity lately, but tonight I'll stay alone. Friends are with other friends and watching movies with boys. I sit alone. A much needed seclusion. What to do. There's always Grounds. But it's 12 am, which means I'll have to find something interesting elsewhere. Pisanello's. Talk. Tell some stories. I was just here for hours. I'll be on my way now. To Howard's. Picture this: Man in forties, wearing a silk shirt with yellow and orange flames, thick mustache, not proportional to large face and huge bonch. He dances alone. He plays air guitar to the blues music that's blaring from the stage. Air Guitar. He's drunk and hilarious. Must contain laughter. Can't stop staring at this large man playing air guitar. The music is just what I needed. A hippy dances in the corner. A release for him. He lets his hair down, and beats his hands on the wall. Getting something out of his system. A middle aged woman goes crazy on the frets of a guitar. Makes it sound like a violin. Makes it sound like it's backwards. Makes me smile. She was damn good. It's 2 am. Talk to my friends older sister for two minutes. She looks and talks just like my friend. I'd like to tell her, but she already knows. I'm sure she's heard it a million times. But it's so uncanny. I'm wearing sandals. Walk to the Grill. My usual booth. People swarm in. I can't stop staring again. Fat man with a tattoo on his left arm. He's wearing a denim, sleeveless shirt. His arms are flabby. What is he trying to be. A man with a small head chews with his mouth open. I start looking at people's teeth. They're all so different in every mouth. Weird. People are really pouring in. Should I move. I know if I ask Niki will tell me not to. It's always nice to have just one sane booth she says. Someone quiet and keeping to themselves. Only coffee to refill every once and again. A man with black gloves and a black shirt approaches. Mumble mumble. No they aren't trying to tell me to move. It's him and a girl. You two can sit here if you want. They do. Brian and Tina. She plays volleyball, he has a degree in Marketing. They met on the internet. She's going to be a math teacher. He lives in Ann Arbor. She, in Bowling Green. They met on the internet. We talk. It's beautiful. I don't have a clue who these people are, I'll never see them again. He wants to marry her, start a family, get a dog. White. Picket. Fence. The home fries are good. Extra crispy? Sure. They'll do that. They choose to stay and sit with me. She does this thing where she smiles and sticks her tongue out, and sort of bites it. Interesting. Does she think it's cute? Does Brian? It's takes forever to get their food. They finally eat. I have a smoke and tell Pat, the cook, about my new "friends." Brian and Tina leave. I wish them luck, and the best life has to offer. Brian tells me to keep writing. I wonder if they'll get married. Have kids. A dog. A fence. I'll never see them again. Strange. I'm at the computer. I start thinking:

What a great night. So full of wonderful interludes. I'm wondering a lot. About myself. I hate feeling like people are laughing at me. Part of me says, "Who the fuck care?" The other says, "I do." I wish so many things right now. I wish: I wasn't so talkative, I was in a different place, I could make new friends, Lenny and Carl were here, I was moved into my apt, I didn't say that I would work a double shift tomorrow, I was stunning, I could figure it out. Life, what do you have to offer me? I keep getting parking tickets. That's what pennies are for. I was thinking today, about how attractive boys are attractive, but full of themselves because they know their attractive. So that's out. Ugly boys are, well, ugly. I like the boys in the middle. The one's who have learned to depend on their mind instead of their face. Overtime, they become the most attractive. I smell like Grill. Ew. My brain hurts. Time for bed. Stupid brain. I'm beginning to think that's I have two parts of my brain that work against each other. I just wish I could figure it out. Know what to think all the time. Know when to stop. Mind reading would be a horrible gift to have. I'm glad no one can read minds. However, sometimes, I think people can. I get really paranoid about it. Someone will react a certain way after I think something, and I'll think, "What if they're reading my thoughts... I know, I'll think something horrible about them, like they smell like english muffins, and if they look up at me, with a strange look on their face, I'll know, that they can read my mind." Either I'm completely wrong, or those mind readers are really good at keeping control over themselves. I smell like Grill and many many Cigarettes. Man, sleep now. I wish I didn't care about what people thought. That's my last rant. I don't really care, but I'd really like to know. I try to be an honest person, but people really don't like that at all. They could at least appreciate it, don't ya think. Man, why can't we all just be honest. I think I'll get my lip pierced next Thursday. And by the way, it turns out that it's FebRuary, not Febuary. Coulda fooled me. Damn. Let's write something thoughtful to end this with... a resolution. I hate those. To sing at Howard's. That would be very cool. I think........ And I guess that's all that counts.



hear I lay
still and breathless
just like always
still I want some more
mirrors sideways
who cares what's behind
just like always
still your passenger
chrome buttons, buckles and leather surfaces
these and other lucky witnesses
now to calm me
this time won't you please
drive faster
roll the windows down
this cool night air is curious
let the whole world look in
who cares who sees anything
I'm your passenger
I'm your passenger
drop these down then
put them on me
nice cool seats
there to cushion your knees
now to calm me
take me around again
don't pull over
this time would you please
drive faster
roll the windows down
this cool night air is curious
let the whole world look in
who cares who sees what tonight
roll these misty windows down
to catch my breath again
and then go and go and go
just drive me home then back again
here I lay just like always
don't let me
go take me to the edge

This is one of my favorite songs. Deftones. And Maynard. I'm in a really weird mood. I think it's time to mix things up a bit. Make some changes. Which reminds me. I keep having this dream where I'm cutting all of my hair off, or shaving my head. It weirds me out. Sometimes, after the sheering, I feel a release, other times I start crying. That's one of the only dreams that has made me ponder whether or not it had meaning. When I was about seven years old, and my family lived on Prospect, I remember standing in the bathroom on a stool, and staring at myself in the mirror for what seemed like hours. All I kept thinking was that I'm a human being, an individual, and how bizarre that feeling was. I still do that. Life is a strange thing. I don't think I'll ever figure it out. Not ever. I can't think right now. Saturn comes back around. To show you everything. Let's you choose what you will or will not see again. Drags you down like a stone or lifts you up again. Spits you out like a child, light and innocent.


All work and no play makes Megan a pissed off lady. But I do need the cash. The kittens need their ovaries removed and their shots injected, my car is about 2500 miles over the suggested oil change schedule limit thing, and someone is going to have to start paying rent in about a week. Oh ya, that's me. Those are about all my "needs" right now. That and the required amount of daily coffee that keeps me stable. Oh stability through drugs. I hate new years resolutions. I think they're pointless. For the majority, they last about a week, a month max. I hate TV sometimes. I wish there were some way to make your TV play only the shows you wanted to watch, all the time. I would program mine to play The Daily Show, The Simpsons, Strangers with Candy, Clarissa Explains it All (Fergface, ha!), Rocko's Modern Life, The Adventures of Pete and Pete, Looney Toons, Aqua Teen Hunger Force, The Brak Show, Space Ghost Coast to Coast/Cartoon Planet, Harvey Birdman... Wow, there are a lot of shows I enjoy, and I'm getting tired of listing them. Maybe TV is more important then I thought... Hm. I think my first child, if it be of the male variety, shall be named Calvin. There aren't hardly enough Calvins. And I always loved Calvin & Hobbes. Oh, that silly boy, who uses words I don't understand sometimes. When will he learn. Or maybe, when will I learn. (sigh) Anyway, yes, I just wrote a paper on some speech of George W.'s, and I'm exhausted. Stupid English muffin boy not closing for me. Whatta punk. I'm getting bored. It's always the same thing. When is life gonna mix it up for me. When I move to Pittsburgh, that's when. I've often thought that if I was friends with Conan O'brian then I wouldn't have a care in the world. Maybe I'll give him a call, and see if he wants to be my friend... I'm thinking about getting my lip pierced. Maybe that'll shake things up. The only problem with that is my friend was thinking about doing the same. The problem lies in the crazy minds of women. If I was to get it pierced, before or after her, she'd say, "Awesome," but mean, "You idea stealing bitch." And the problem there lies in the fact that she would probably be the millionth person to get her lip pierced. Unbeknownst to her... Ugh, stomach making crazy noises. Maybe I just need to watch The Royal Tenenbaums again. I wish summer was here. Now, thank you. Then I'd feel better. I'd feel like a million bucks. Two million. I just need to shed some weight. Like 40lbs. Then I'll be as happy as a clam. Assuming that clams are always happy, even when being eaten. That reminds me, the phrase "out of your cotton-pickin' mind." Where does that derive from. Racial slur? Maybe. I think it all begins with a slave named Jeffery, who decided to escape one night, and told his friend Barnebus, to which Barnebus replied, "Are you out of your cotton-pickin' mind?!?!?!?" That's what I think. Well, bed is calling. I probably had a million other random things to say, but they just aren't coming to the surface at the moment. Why do I even write, though. What am I achieving? The only thing I find in these rants is more crazy in my brain. Well, at least I'm not crazy yet. Maybe that's what it's doing for me. Helping me sort, like a filing cabinet. This way all my thoughts aren't bottled up in my head, so I don't start screaming and yelling and throwing and breaking things, like a crazy would do. I feel like doing that sometimes.
So irritated. Ugh. I hate how fast the world moves. How I have to run all over the place sometimes. And how people aren't courteous. I think maybe they want to be, but they don't want to look stupid. Too self oriented. I hate cars. I hate having to buy gas. I hate having to drive for a half hour to get to class everyday. And then having to look for a parking spot. I just hate all this daily bullshit. I'd like to enjoy myself. And I try to not let all this bother me, but it accumulates and then I just can't takes no more. I wish I was a cat. And just sat around all day. Playing with pieces of string. Eating catnip. That would be the life. Stupid cats, having it made and all. At any rate, it's a very lovely day. The sun is shining, and I'm getting my kerotein. I don't know how to spell that. If I had a dog I would name it "Spunky." I miss Rocko's Modern Life. Oh, and the guy that I work with that smells like English Muffins got fired. No more muffin cravings. And I like crosswords a lot.


I was going to bed, but then I thought, "Hey, I'll catch up on reading people's blogs." And it was disapointing to say the least.


Well. That was dramatic. Sometimes I amaze myself. But anyway, the past is in the past, so let's move on to greater things. Like the solution. Pittsburgh is the solution. I am going to move there. Away from the monotony of this town. Apart from that, I don't know. All I can think about right now is sex. I'm sure everyone has heard the "fact" that every human thinks about sex every 6 seconds. Well, that's probably true. I'd like to assume that no one is going to read this, so I will continue. And in the event that there are in fact people reading this... I'm not going to apologize or anything, because you probably want to hear what I am going to say, not because you think it might be profound or anything, just because I mentioned the word sex. Anyhow, yes, What is it about sex that is so... That's a stupid thought, but I can tell you what sucks about sex, bladder infections. Man oh man. There is nothing in the world that exceeds them in annoyance and agony. They are probably the worst thing that could happen to a girl. They ultimately control you for about 3 days. Relentlessly. And when you think they are gone... BAM! They aren't, and come back in super mega full force. Sometimes I debate whether or not I would pass up sex if I knew it would result in a bladder infection. Oh yeah, and then there's pregnancy. Which is funny, because that's pretty much the idea behind sex, to get pregnant. If you ignore the perks and all. Think about it, that's really all that sex is for: making babies. In a matter of speaking that is of course. Dolphins and humans are the only two animals that have sex for pleasure, or so I've heard. Anyway. I'm tired. So, I'm gonna go to bed. There is something that I probably cherish more then sex however, which is just sleeping next to someone. That's probably my most favorite thing in the world. There's just something about it. I don't know. Bed.