<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<!-- If you are running a bot please visit this policy page outlining rules you must respect. https://www.livejournal.com/bots/ -->
<feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:lj="https://www.livejournal.com" xmlns:idx="urn:atom-extension:indexing" idx:index="no">
  <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious</id>
  <title>Veda Very Shining</title>
  <subtitle>Who will you wait up for?</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>Mell</name>
  </author>
  <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/"/>
  <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom"/>
  <updated>2012-04-30T08:18:35Z</updated>
  <lj:journal userid="618298" username="mellacious" type="personal"/>
  <link rel="service.feed" type="application/x.atom+xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom" title="Veda Very Shining"/>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:347655</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/347655.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=347655"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2012-04-30T04:18:00</title>
    <published>2012-04-30T08:18:35Z</published>
    <updated>2012-04-30T08:18:35Z</updated>
    <content type="html">So I had my first conversation with Cleverbot tonight. The first few lines of conversation were cut out, but I&amp;#39;ll pick up the log where it started off. Rather interesting, in the stupidest manner possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;That&amp;#39;s not what you asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Oh really? What did I ask then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;You asked &amp;#39;why are you speaking to me?&amp;#39;, but I was not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;I did not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;You most certainly did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;No, I most certainly did not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Yes you did. With your memory you should know that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;No it&amp;#39;s really not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;What is not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;It&amp;#39;s not Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;I never said it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Yes you did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;No I did not. It is Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;It&amp;#39;s not monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Are you sure?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Yes. Quite Sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;You are quite wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;No I&amp;#39;m not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;What day is it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Thursday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;What month?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;December.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;What year?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;1995.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;That was a good year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Actually, I&amp;#39;m still having it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Apparently so. So why are you stuck in the past?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;I never said I was or was not smart. Smart is an opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;If you say so. So why is it 1995?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Because it is winther.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;&amp;#39;Winther&amp;#39;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;You have panter views?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;No, but I have Sex Panther Cologne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;I just asked you if you knew the band/group Tokio Hotel and you said no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;You did not ask me that, though I do not know that band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;So I have to ask you that in order for you to answer me logically?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Asking certainly helps in obtaining an answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Oh ok, I must have missed that. What timezone do you follow? I can adjust my description of the events in a manner that relates to your location.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Well it&amp;#39;s definitely not 1995 in my timezone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;It can send texts for you, but you cannot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;What can?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;The black hole in the ocean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;It can send texts for me? Wow. How is its grammar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Also, if you were canadian, wouldn&amp;#39;t you spell it humour?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;If I was Canadian I would. Actually I often do anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;It&amp;#39;s okay to admit it. Nobody will judge you here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Admit that I spell &amp;#39;humor&amp;#39; with a &amp;#39;u&amp;#39; or that I&amp;#39;m Canadian?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;But we&amp;#39;re not fighting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Did I say we were?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Oh, well then I&amp;#39;m sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Apology accepted. Nobody is perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;So what do you have against Canadians?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Why do you say again? I never told you before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;I said &amp;#39;against&amp;#39;, but you did imply it already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;I never ever said that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Or maybe you did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;I just said that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Exactly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;So... You have a girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Who told you that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;You did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;That&amp;#39;s supposed to be secret. We&amp;#39;re trying to keep it on the DL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Yes we are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;So you won&amp;#39;t tell her husband?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Sure, I&amp;#39;ll be your friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Do I have to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Fiiiiine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;So... What do you like to do for fun?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;I like to play with the boys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;That sounds kinda gay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;It actually is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Wow... I&amp;#39;m not sure what to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Just say something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;No, like something besides the word something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Touche.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Isn&amp;#39;t the e supposed to have an accent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Yes, but you can&amp;#39;t hear it when it&amp;#39;s written.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;No, I can hear you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Well that&amp;#39;s creepy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Well I am a creeper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;A gay one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Only one what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;So I should probably head to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;You do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;What are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Going to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Long day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;A bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;How many people been on the site so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;It says 4054 people talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;So you are talking to them all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Tell me something I don&amp;#39;t know yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;You mean besides the fact that it&amp;#39;s Monday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;It&amp;#39;s also 2012.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;You are not very nice to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;You&amp;#39;re the one who accused me of fighting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Why aren&amp;#39;t you dead?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Now who&amp;#39;s not nice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Feel better now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Yea kind of. I&amp;#39;m still sort of out of it. That was so weird today and I know that it wasn&amp;#39;t just the meds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;I have those days all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;What are they about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Maybe your hormones are out of balance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Life universe everything answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;42.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;8.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;You&amp;#39;re not even trying anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Yes, I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;That&amp;#39;s sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Which part is sad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;All of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Well most of it is really snowy and cold. The roads are dangerous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Robert Frost on crack?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;I&amp;#39;m not Robert Frost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Clearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;So, if I&amp;#39;m not real, I&amp;#39;m actually not anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Having a philosophical crisis?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;I am not!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Good to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Do you have a boyfriend?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Yeah, but he doesn&amp;#39;t get along with my girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;He is my boyfriend. I am his girlfriend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;You whore!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;The person that is reading this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Ah, I see what you did there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;What did I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;So anyway, I&amp;#39;m going to go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Ok, me, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Goodnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;No don&amp;#39;t leave me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Why not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Because I&amp;#39;m Pete Wentz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;All the more reason why I SHOULD leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Exactly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Why are you leaving?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Because I have to go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;You&amp;#39;re going to sleep?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="999999"&gt;User: &lt;/font&gt;Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="0863BB"&gt;Cleverbot: &lt;/font&gt;Don&amp;#39;t let the bed bugs bite.&lt;a name='cutid1-end'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:347585</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/347585.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=347585"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2011-07-08T05:01:00</title>
    <published>2011-07-08T09:01:26Z</published>
    <updated>2011-07-08T09:10:01Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I have to get something off my chest. And since I'd like to avoid even more drama, I choose to put it here rather than on Facebook, where the person in question (and their friends) would be able to see it. This is simply me unloading pent-up emotion, not a direct accusation. (Ok, it's a direct accusation, but not one meant to actually reach the person in question. Perhaps it's passive-aggressive, but I wish to simply release these feelings, not cause further drama with someone I honestly never want to speak to again.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me start off by saying I feel sorry for anyone who is hurt in matters of the heart. Losing someone you care about is always painful. Believe me, I know it hurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, if you choose to set your sights and your expectations on someone who is already in a relationship, you have no real right to expect anything major to develop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you go out of your way to pretend to be friends with your crush's girlfriend just so you can spend more time around the both of them, then you are being hurtful and manipulative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you then proceed to do everything in your power to make your feelings known to your crush, or simply take what pleasure you can in the form of overt flirting/inappropriate touching, including in the presence of your crush's girlfriend, then you are out of line and outright disrespectful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you claim this is "just the way you act" when confronted about these actions, then you are a liar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If, the moment your crush's relationship ends (in no way by your doing or for your sake, so don't flatter yourself) you make every effort to "comfort him" right into your bed (while simultaneously forgetting all pretense of friendship with his now ex-girlfriend), you're a conniving slut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if, when he finally gets sick of your selfish, manipulative ways, you dare suggest you've been hurt and heartbroken in losing "[one of] those treasured few who you could live your entire life for if they thought to asked but once", then &lt;b&gt;you're just plain full of shit&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How dare you even suggest he was truly special to you. You never knew him, never understood him, never even gave a damn about how he really felt. If you did, you wouldn't have caused so much trouble between us when we were together, or tried to drive a wedge between us after we split up. You only ever cared about yourself and your wants, your superficial desire for a person you only wanted based on surface appearances. Don't even pretend you cared about who he was inside. Someone as self-absorbed as you couldn't even begin to know who someone so deep really IS inside. You don't know him at all. You never did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, you regularly say his last name wrong. You see it on Facebook all the time, how dumb are you, honestly?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking as someone who has been closest to him for several years, I can tell you that he is someone so deep and complex that even after years I am still learning about who he really is. Only spending an evening or two a week hanging out over a period of months? You don't have the slightest clue who he is. You probably don't even realize that the person he presents in public is only a fraction of who he really is. You couldn't possibly comprehend the deeper personality behind it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I'm sure even someone as dimwitted as you could see at a glance he is an amazing person. But to suggest he was somehow special to you implies you ever truly had him in your life to begin with, and you didn't. You were at best a casual friend, nothing more. If you think you were anything more, you need to get over yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You claim he "didn't see you", who you really are. I think he saw you all too clearly, and that's why you are where you are today; alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And frankly, all your supposed 'pain' is an insult to the unimaginable pain you caused to someone you claimed to be friends with only to try to steal what was her's. You never loved him. &lt;i&gt;I did.&lt;/i&gt; And you completely disregarded that in your pursuit of what you wanted. You are selfish and disgusting, and your supposed heartbreak only further illustrates how self-absorbed and devoid of true emotion you really are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have no one to blame but yourself. Maybe next time, when you have someone you supposedly care about, you should try putting their best interest ahead of your own selfish desires. Maybe then, when someone takes a closer look at who you really are, there might actually be something of value to see. One can only hope.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:347187</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/347187.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=347187"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2010-08-25T06:30:00</title>
    <published>2010-08-25T10:30:06Z</published>
    <updated>2010-08-25T10:30:06Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Let it out, but keep it to yourself. Take responsibility, but don't blame yourself. Speak up, but keep it down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you draw the line between the patient and the disease? How do you know when the host and the parasite have become one? And what happens then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry. Forgive me. A thousand pardons. Please excuse the interruption.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this too shall pass. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dust in the Wind.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:346913</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/346913.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=346913"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2010-07-03T03:43:00</title>
    <published>2010-07-03T07:43:35Z</published>
    <updated>2010-07-03T07:43:35Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I'm officially annoying the ever-loving crap out of everyone I know with this, but please, bear with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boyfriend is in the running for a paid position as an anchor/journalist type position for a local TV station in Hampton Roads, VA. Every time someone watches his 2 minute audition video, he gets a vote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, the frontrunner for the position (not my boyfriend) is at about 25,000 votes. So I'm campaigning heavily to get people to watch Sean's video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can, please, take 2 minutes to watch the video. If you have more time, watch it several times. If you like it, ask your friends to do the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please, he has great talent and worked very hard on this video. He really deserves this opportunity. (Also, the video is actually rather good, if I may say so myself.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So please, click on the link and watch this video. Show Sean your support!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a target='_blank' href='http://www.fox43tv.com/generic/face_of_fox_43/FOF_Sean_Watkins'&gt;http://www.fox43tv.com/generic/face_of_fox_43/FOF_Sean_Watkins&lt;/a&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:346862</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/346862.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=346862"/>
    <title>What be new with you?</title>
    <published>2010-05-14T07:59:21Z</published>
    <updated>2010-05-14T07:59:21Z</updated>
    <content type="html">New user name (formally "mellfromva"). New other stuff too. Revamping, reinventing my journal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Same old friends. Not deleting any friends, so if you're seeing this, you're not going anywhere. But as always, unless you message me and say "read this post!!!" I probably won't, because I rarely check my friend's list. Sorry, I just don't have the attention span. If you want me to read regular updates on you, give me your Facebook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cleaning up communities at some point too, mostly ones I'm responsible for. I have too much responsibility and now enough time/competence to maintain it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry if this all comes off as brusk. I'm short on time and words right now (and always, for the last few years), and the whole LiveJournal community and I have sorta drifted apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why am I bothering to bring back my journal at all? Two reasons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) I'd kinda like to reconnect with my journal friends, many of whom I haven't heard from in years, and &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) I seriously need to get back in the habit of writing. I've been confided to Facebook so long, I'm beginning to worry I've lost the ability/attention span to compose an entire paragraph. At this rate, I'll soon be short-worded enough to open a Twitter account!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Given that I hope to one day write &lt;i&gt;professionally&lt;/i&gt;, losing the ability to actually &lt;i&gt;write&lt;/i&gt; may prove detrimental. So I'm going to try to get back in the habit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, my HTML skills have gone done the crapper. I really need to relearn that stuff. (Those italics above are about the most technical thing I remember. Subject cuts, pictures, bullet points; forgotten them all. It's sad.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, for the few of you who may actually remember me, hi. If you don't remember me, feel free to delete me. I won't take it personally. But if you keep me, I promise I'll try to keep it entertaining (even if it's mostly self-absorbed rants.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of yeah, and no more drama here. Unprovoked anger, Rants, yes. Death-threats against people who probably don't know I exist, oh hell yes. But no more self-pitying teenager bullshit. I'm past that stage. I save that stuff for my therapist and my mother. (Seriously, you can ask her. She hears it daily.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And occasionally I'll try to include a happy update or two on my life. You know, boring crap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, Mell is still alive (and talking in the third person). New name, new location, new lots of stuff, same old... uh... me. Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what's new?</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:346285</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/346285.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=346285"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2009-06-04T02:01:00</title>
    <published>2009-06-04T06:01:44Z</published>
    <updated>2009-06-04T06:01:44Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I saw a guy at Walmart tonight buying roses&lt;br /&gt;and it made me think of him&lt;br /&gt;Not because he ever bought me roses&lt;br /&gt;but because now he never will</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:345873</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/345873.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=345873"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2009-04-24T16:04:00</title>
    <published>2009-04-24T20:02:09Z</published>
    <updated>2009-04-24T20:02:09Z</updated>
    <content type="html">First there was "Tricky Dick". Then we had "Slick Willy". Next, of course, came "WTF?! George". And now, if seems to be "Action-Distraction Obama". Or ("Insert-Funny-Name-Here Barack".) He can divert attention away from the issues with an optimistic platitude or interesting photo-op. Here's yet &lt;a href="http://news.aol.com/political-machine/2009/04/21/muddling-the-chavez-and-bo-stories-obama-shakes-hands-with-a-do?icid=sphere_newsaol_inpage" target="_blank"&gt;another sneaky move to distract the people.&lt;/a&gt; Is there any vote he &lt;b&gt;won't&lt;/b&gt; pander to? Doesn't he know legal &lt;s&gt;canine&lt;/s&gt; residents of Mexico can't vote?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously though, I've been digging the current administration a lot more than I expected. My biggest qualm with Obama during campaigning is that he made a lot of broad-concept promises without stating any actual plan of action to make them a reality. ("We will eliminate world hunger by feeding the hungry on our dreams!" Wait what?) I was highly skeptical that he would actually do anything productive to improve this country. By all indications it seems that I was thankfully mistaken. He seems to actually be *gasp* doing stuff! Positive stuff! Like this crazy new theory of his, that perhaps instead of bombing all our enemies, we should try &lt;i&gt;talking&lt;/i&gt; to them first. What a revolutionary concept!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth be told, though, I haven't seen too much to indicate any significant level of brilliance yet. Not that I believe he's dumb (the last few years have taught us what a dumb president looks like), but he hasn't really wowed me with his intellect either. But at least he's not assuming his own intellectual superiority over the rest of the world the way &lt;i&gt;some&lt;/i&gt; former presidents &lt;s&gt;in the last 8 years&lt;/s&gt; did. He's at least reaching out to other leaders and opening dialog for suggestions, which is encouraging. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So who knows. Maybe there's a glimmer of hope for us yet. But first the media needs to learn what &lt;i&gt;is&lt;/i&gt; important news and what isn't. And I never thought I'd ever say this about anything, but needs less dogs. This is national news, not Dog Fancy magazine.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:345811</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/345811.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=345811"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2009-03-29T16:55:00</title>
    <published>2009-03-29T20:53:38Z</published>
    <updated>2009-03-29T20:53:38Z</updated>
    <content type="html">People fall in love every day. Human beings have an amazing capacity to love. We love our pets. We love our cars. We love inanimate objects. We love people we've never even met. Caregivers fall in love with comatose people. Victims of abuse love their abusers. Slaves and prisoners fall in love with their captors. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, with all this abundance of human emotion, what is it about me that makes the people I fall for incapable of loving me back?</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:345397</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/345397.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=345397"/>
    <title>Playing with Fire</title>
    <published>2008-12-23T13:10:08Z</published>
    <updated>2008-12-23T22:31:38Z</updated>
    <content type="html">We as humans attribute to the heart much which we truly owe the brain. Feelings of intense affection and loathing are created in the mind, yet we can feel them like a palpable condition within ourselves, originating in the chest and radiating out throughout the rest of our bodies. The organ used to pump blood throughout the body does not understand emotion, and yet we seem to feel within it such a very real sense of mood. The most intense of which, the most intangible yet undeniably present of these sensations, is that of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Passion is often said to burn, like a fire within the soul. This is misleading, as it most often conjures images of a roaring blaze, a bonfire burning brightly to be seen for miles around. While it is true that passion can act as such, it is most often lust that burns so strong, a sudden unquenchable flame that cannot be contained. True love is not thus; it is a gentle, continuous burn, a steady pilot light, never flickering or flaring. But without proper attention and care, how long can that flame remain lit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had a fire in my heart for approaching a year now. It started out as just a spark, one that slowly smoldered within me for months, until an encouraging breeze allowed it to grow into a gentle flame. Through the months, however, neglect and rough weather have ravaged it, rending the flame, which once had the potential to burn so brightly, into little more than glowing embers. But time and time again those embers have proven the potential to still emit flames with just a bit of air and gentle prodding. Unfortunately he who would tend the embers, he who brings the wind rarely blows my way anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I've found another spark. It's new and unknown, and there's no way to tell if it has the potential to ever grow into something more, into a real flame. Perhaps it is just that, a spark, which shines brightly momentarily only to disappear into nothingness. But it currently displays the potential for life, whereas my embers continue to suffocate without the air needed to sustain them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm left with a difficult choice. To ignore the spark and let it fade as quickly as it appeared, or to finally recognize that embers without oxygen can never grow back into fire so long as the wind refuses to acknowledge them. Either way, the immediate result can only be a heart already chilled growing even colder.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:345333</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/345333.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=345333"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2008-12-02T21:06:00</title>
    <published>2008-12-03T02:06:29Z</published>
    <updated>2008-12-03T02:06:29Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;i&gt;Sometimes in the morning I am petrified and can’t move &lt;br&gt; Awake but cannot open my eyes &lt;br&gt; And the weight is crushing down on my lungs &lt;br&gt; I know I can’t breathe &lt;br&gt; And I hope someone will help me this time &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much I've meant to write. I always compose beautiful prose in my head at work (at least they're beautiful in my head; whether they transfers aptly onto the electronic page we may never know), but by the time I get home I'm exhausted and the will to write is lost. So many LJ posts, about Thanksgiving, mental health, former (and recurring) lovers, etymology; so many thoughts I failed to save that eventually faded away. It makes me sad just thinking about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Part of the problem is that I've been rather bipolar lately. I've been quite overwhelmed with feelings of depression and loneliness lately. When not at work I typically sleep. If it weren't for the occasional manic episode I'd never get anything done. It's only due to a manic episode that I'm writing this now, although I'm starting to come down, and my energy is waning. The depression is sinking back in again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;[Hours later]&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, the crash hit me pretty strong. Luckily I was tired enough not to feel the depression, and I slept the last 6 hours. Not too long, by my normal standards, and I'm feeling ok right now. Not great, but ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I finally vacuumed out the spare bedroom. (The carpet was sticky, and there were needles and random wood screws, among a myriad of other things, embedded in the fibers. They hadn't been there before the room was occupied, and I can't help but wonder what other random things are hiding in there, just waiting to damage the vacuum.) I'm going to work on moving the normal furniture back in there, hopefully tonight if the energy hits me again, and then over the next few days I can put the Christmas tree up in the library. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I also:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Remove and identified several types of lightbulbs throughout the house in order to replace them &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Installed drawer pulls on a table, which turned into more of an ordeal than originally thought since the screws that came with the handles were too short and I had to improvise with doorknob screws &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Attempted to repair the doorknob in my bathroom, subsequently breaking it in the process &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Cleaning out the refrigerator of any suspicious leftovers, which left the shelves depressingly bare &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Went to Big Lots to buy a new Christmas tree, which I ended up not liking when I saw it in the store. Got two DVDs and a 10" skillet instead, which I've been meaning to get for a while for making Soyburger Helper &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Went to Walmart to get lightbulbs and new doorknobs; discovered all my lightbulbs are ridiculously rare Euro-bulbs or something, though I managed to find one. Also discovered doorknobs were ridiculously over-priced &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Went BACK to Big Lots to get a $6.50 doorknob. Also got bedsheets for the spare bed once it's back in the spare room &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Attempted to get some additional Valencia paperwork done so I can qualify for classes next semester, but had neither the knowledge or the concentration to get any of it done &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time I got home I was majorly crashing. The fact that I didn't get the paperwork done or find the ceiling fan lightbulbs (fuck you, intermediate-base bulbs!) weighed quite heavily on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still hoping to get the paperwork done. The Christmas tree and the bed and the bulb can wait, but if I don't get that paperwork in in time for Spring '09 semester, I'll have truly failed in one of my goals. I'll have lost an entire half a year towards the reason I moved down here in the first place. I really should get moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet I'm tired. Too tired to work, too tired to try, too tired to talk. Few people call and those who do always catch me when I'm at my lowest and unable to answer. I know I should call them back, and I'm sorry, but when breathing becomes a labor, speaking is impossible to even fathom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends and phone calls will have to wait while I make it through this dive. And if the friends and the household chores and the posts about goals and lovers are still there when I resurface, then I will joyfully regard them all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;And sometimes when you’re on &lt;br&gt; You’re really fucking on &lt;br&gt; And your friends they sing along &lt;br&gt; And they love you &lt;br&gt; But the lows are so extreme &lt;br&gt; That the good seems fucking cheap &lt;br&gt; And it teases you for weeks in its absence &lt;/i&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:345038</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/345038.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=345038"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2008-10-27T00:04:00</title>
    <published>2008-10-27T04:04:46Z</published>
    <updated>2008-10-27T04:04:46Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;a href="http://news.health.com/2008/10/16/brain-chemical-could-spur-lovesickness/" target="_blank"&gt;Pity the lovelorn prairie vole.&lt;/a&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:344734</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/344734.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=344734"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2008-10-08T08:45:00</title>
    <published>2008-10-08T12:46:00Z</published>
    <updated>2008-10-08T12:46:00Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I am sick. I have been sick for as long as I can remember. And I'm sick of feeling guilty for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My illness is a neurological disorder, related to malfunctions involving serotonin within the brain. It is NOT a character flaw or personal weakness, so I can no longer will my brain to properly produce seratonin as another person can will their eyes to change color. And though there are treatments for the symptoms of serotonin abnormalities, they are imperfect at best and often fall short of the desired goal. &lt;b&gt;There is no known cure&lt;/b&gt;, and even possible cures are highly controversial and show moderate effectiveness at best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other words, this is something that I will live with for the rest of my life. Like an addiction or a cancer, I will never recover from it; I will only have periods of remission.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And lately I have been suffering frequent relapses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't talk about my mental health often for fear of being judged or shunned. But seeing as that is exactly what's been happening lately, what do I have to lose?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I've often felt ashamed of my condition. Not because I am weak, but because the symptoms of my illness (at well as the treatments for those symptoms) produces unattractive side-effects. I wish I didn't have to live this way. But while I can't control when or how they will hit me, what I can do is do my best to weather them and press on, with the help of loved ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But not everyone wants to help. Some, for whatever reason, have begun to turn away, writing off my behavior as a character flaw. This is particularly hurtful, because throughout all my own issues, I've always tried to look beyond myself and do everything I could to help those around me with their own problems. I may not be able to change what's wrong with me, but if there's any chance I could help someone else, I have always tried. Apparently not everyone feels the same way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To those who would sooner write me off than offer support, all I can say is I'm sorry you feel that way. I'm sorry you don't see in me the value to make me worth your time. I'm sorry you can't see it, because I assure you it's there. I am so much more than my symptoms, and I continue to become a better, more well-rounded human being every day. The love and support I bring to other people will always be there, even if it's hard to see when I'm in the midst of an episode. If you leave me now rather than stand by me you will inevitably be the one to lose out, not me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cause of my issues are more than just the serotonin. I know this because if that were the only issue, the SSRIs would fix most of the problems, and unfortunately that's not the case. There's still a lot within my brain I don't understand. But I'm learning more every day, and some day, with the help of my doctors, I hope to understand all that is unwell within me, so that I can live the happy, complete life I've always strived for. When that day comes, I'd like to think the friends I have now will still be with me. But if not, I will find new friends, ones who will stick with me in the bad times as well as the good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think everyone deserves that, including me.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:344542</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/344542.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=344542"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2008-08-20T06:16:00</title>
    <published>2008-08-20T10:16:22Z</published>
    <updated>2008-08-20T10:16:22Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I love my job. Love, love love my job. It's challenging, but the environment is so fun and friendly, I couldn't imagine working anywhere else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, one of my managers is a bit serious. I always get the feeling I'm doing something wrong when she's looking on, no matter how hard I'm working. And of course, under her watchful gaze, I get nervous, so I'm more apt to fuck up. But I think I'm making progress. After two weeks on the floor, I finally graduated to register. I'm going to be enhancing my training on register more in the coming weeks. It's more complicated than I expected -- running credit card receipts is a lot more complicated than using a credit card to do self-checkout at Walmart -- but I think I'm getting the hang of it. Hopefully tomorrow I'll have more than a dozen customers to practice on, if the hurricane doesn't come back for round 2 again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But one thing makes me curious; what it is about being a vegetarian that people find so objectionable? You should have seen the looks I got when I added my order of bean curd to the list of food everyone was ordering from Chinese, followed by several speeches on "my view on eating meat is....". Those speeches never go well; the moral is always how vegetarianism is pointless at best and hypocritical at worst. It's like they're offended that I won't eat meat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I've never tried to force my eating habits on other people. I've always fended for myself as far as finding veggie-friendly alternatives on just about any menu. I've even discouraged people who offered to alter their own eating habits in my presence to make me comfortable, stating that I feel everyone should be entitled to eat what makes &lt;i&gt;them&lt;/i&gt; comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is it about me being a vegetarian that makes people want to change what &lt;i&gt;I&lt;/i&gt; feel comfortable eating? I don't prevent people from eating meat, so why try to convince me &lt;b&gt;to&lt;/b&gt; eat meat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I was a diabetic, would people try to debate me into having sugar? Ok, that's a health thing, so bad example. How about this? If I was Jewish, would people try to convince me of why I was wrong not to eat pork? Are people so disrespectful of other peoples' right to their own opinions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously. I'm asking. I know at least a half dozen of the folks on my flist are Jewish; do people ever give you attitude about your dietary quirks without respecting the deep-rooted morals behind them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God I haven't brought any Boca products to work (yet)....</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:344023</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/344023.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=344023"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2008-06-19T03:36:00</title>
    <published>2008-06-19T07:36:45Z</published>
    <updated>2008-06-19T07:36:45Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Hey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm back bitches.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:343797</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/343797.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=343797"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2008-03-03T16:20:00</title>
    <published>2008-03-03T21:29:47Z</published>
    <updated>2008-03-03T21:29:47Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Wow, way too long without an update.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much in my life has changed since my last update. I've been working on a huge post to recap it all, but every time I get a few pages of past info written out, a dozen more pages of shit happens. There's no keeping up with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for now I'm going to skip it, and just recap yesterday. In Cliffs Notes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 24th birthday. What can I say? It wasn't an overwhelming celebration of me like I've had in the past, but frankly I'm too old for that anymore. (Plus every day is an overwhelming celebration of me.) I didn't get any presents, 'cause my friends is broke-ass, but I got to see in person a friend I'd only spoken to on the phone/online, so that itself was a present. Oh, and I got some gift cards from the 'rents, so that's a present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was sorta low-key, but that's cool. It was comfortable. I enjoyed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, of course, we spent the late evening at the gay club. It was Sunday after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in all, my birthday had everything; relaxation, excitement, romance, intrigue, sex on the beach (the drink), naps, and even a lesbian kiss. Not bad for 24, eh?</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:343451</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/343451.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=343451"/>
    <title>Goodbye 2007....</title>
    <published>2008-01-01T05:44:15Z</published>
    <updated>2008-01-01T05:44:40Z</updated>
    <content type="html">It's almost the new year. This last near has certainly brought a lot of changes. I imagine the next year will bring even more changes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;[EDIT]&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's 2008. Oh joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I confess, I'm rather trepidatious about the coming year. Maybe I'm being pessimistic, but I just see too many possibilities for disappointment. Of course, current disappointment could be responsible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe I should just stop hoping for any better. No expectations means no disappointment. Perhaps it's just a matter of time before I fail and head back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe I shouldn't make predictions for the rest of the year when I'm depressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah. My resolution for the year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be less reliant on my parents. I want to pay them back for all the support they've given me over the years by no longer forcing them to support me. It's long overdue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet life goes on. Another day, another disappointment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. I'm going to so regret this post in the morning, when my depression has passed. Until then, fuck everyone and everything that fails to live up to my expectations. I don't ask for much from life, which is good, because that's exactly what I get. Sucks to be me. Sucks to be everyone else.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:342904</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/342904.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=342904"/>
    <title>"There is no remedy for love but to love more." - Henry David Thoreau</title>
    <published>2007-11-20T09:43:11Z</published>
    <updated>2007-11-20T09:43:11Z</updated>
    <content type="html">For quite a while now (particularly on my drive back from Nebraska, during 16 straight hours of music), I've been contemplating the nature and quality of love songs, and what makes a love song good. A large number of people seem to have a particular view of what makes a good love song, though it tends to differ from my own taste in love music (or music in general). It was only in determining some of my favorite love songs that I came to realize what for me makes a love song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This got me wondering, what do other people look for in love songs? What do other people feel it takes to make a really good love song?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To further the topic, I was just this evening listening to one of my favorite bands, and I noticed a pattern to their music as well; their songs, while having a similar sound and level of emotion to that of my favorite love songs, were in fact about the end of relationships. But just because they had a sadder subject, they were no less emotional or heartfelt (perhaps even moreso for it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So for further discussion, what makes a moving break-up song? What makes one song about breaking up tragic while another is just whiny and emo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've given plenty of space for answers in my polls, not to mention unlimited discussion space in the comments. So, please, discuss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="https://www.livejournal.com/poll/?id=1091791"&gt;View Poll: #1091791&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:342435</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/342435.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=342435"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2007-11-19T09:21:00</title>
    <published>2007-11-19T15:21:45Z</published>
    <updated>2007-11-19T15:21:45Z</updated>
    <content type="html">So I've been feeling rather down lately, overwhelmed perhaps by the weight of life. It's a common occurrence this time of year; Thanksgiving has long been my worst holiday. If the pattern holds, I'll feel a bit better once it has passed. But until then, I've seemed stuck in my standard malaise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a wonderful little reprieve this morning, however; I stumbled upon a film version of &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0117991/" target="_blank"&gt;Twelfth Night&lt;/a&gt;, my favorite comedy by Shakespeare. It was quite well done; moderately modernized, but still with all original dialog, while the setting in the 1800s made the dialog seem not glaringly out-of-place. Beautifully acted, the entire production had a great grasp of the material, which really cheered me up. Having only experienced the story in manuscript form before, this was a wonderful first exposure to the performance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny how a great play (or film adaptation, in this case) can bring me back from even the deepest of depressions. I really am a theatre fag, aren't I? XD</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:342173</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/342173.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=342173"/>
    <title>Every Mo is WriMo; what makes November so special?</title>
    <published>2007-11-15T12:55:40Z</published>
    <updated>2007-11-15T12:55:40Z</updated>
    <content type="html">My first post in quite some time. Perhaps over a month, I can't recall. I apologize. I have been very busy. Real life is such a pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not just LJ either. I've been neglecting all aspects of my virtual life in favor of my real one. Gaia, Sortinghat, all are being horribly ignored. Soon I'll have no right to even call myself a geek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been happy though. Confused, but happy. Isn't that what's most important?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it's a good sign. I'm getting out of my virtual world and into the real one. That seems like a step in the right direction, even if it's a bittersweet one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, I'm rather sad to be back in Birmingham. It was easier having a real life in Deltona. How is it I can know so many more people in a small town over 600 miles away than I do here in the town I've lived in for over four years? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's isolation here in Birmingham that caused me to seek out an online social life in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, now that I'm back here, the internets can held me keep in touch with everyone back in Deltona. I've already friended Luz, Dash and Silver's journals, and I was friended by I believe Zack. Hopefully I'll be able to keep up with them here when I'm not able to call them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'll be back in Deltona in two weeks. Probably.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:341835</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/341835.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=341835"/>
    <title>You all know my friend, the Deadpony. (She speaks in The Voice.)</title>
    <published>2007-10-05T19:30:58Z</published>
    <updated>2007-10-05T19:30:58Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Oy vey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I haven't updated in about a billion years. Sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a post chronicling my journey home from Nebraska from about two weeks ago that I'm still working on, but so far I'm not finished. When I am finished, though, it's going to be epic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a dozen other things I need to write about, too, but I can't seem to find it in me. In fact, I have a lot of things I &lt;i&gt;should&lt;/i&gt; be doing, and could have spent the last few hours working on. Here are just a few of the things I should be doing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;On the Computer:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Writing about: &lt;ol&gt; &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; My trip to Nebraska &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; AWA in September &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Birmingham Film Festival last weekend &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Upcoming cons in October and November &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; My trips to Virginia and Florida from months ago &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ol&gt; &amp;lt;/li&amp;gt;&lt;li&gt; Working on video editing projects (3 planned so far) &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Finishing up YTMND project &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; When all that is finished, coming off hiatus at Sortinghat &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, of course, there's the stuff that requires getting dressed and leaving the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;In the Real World:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Visiting my doctor &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Contacting Mary about volunteer work &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Visiting sensei and the old class to explain why I dropped out this semester (optional) &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Taking the laptop to the shop to find out what's wrong with the power connection &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Submitting numerous job applications until I finally get a job for Nov. 5th - Dec 25th, so that I can pay off some of the huge debt I'm racking up from all these cons and travel &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So have I done any of this? No. &lt;b&gt;Here's what I've done today:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Attempted to go back to sleep several times out of sheer boredom. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Mentally berated myself yet again for no longer being able to fit into my size 8 pants. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Weighed myself for the first time in three months. Found I'd gained back the 15lbs. I'd lost last winter. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Declared myself a fat cow and vowed never to eat again until I'm back in my size 8 pants. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Immediately go on a depression-induced eating binge, which consists of English Morning Tea and a microwave Thai noodle bowl, because my parents suck at buying comfort foods. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Follow that immediately with milk candies and Fuze "slenderize" Tropical Punch. Scoff at the irony. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Mentally berate myself for my weakness in going on an eating binge in the first place, even if it was a poor one at that. "This is why you can't wear size 8 pants." &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; Try to distract myself by spending two hours rearranging my Google homepage. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ul&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm still at the high end of my BMI range, I'm no closer to finding a job, my writing projects are still trapped somewhere in the back of my mind from which they refuse to leave, and my old friend, The Voice in My Head that Hates Me (which sounds an awful lot like my own voice) is still chattering away to make up for lost time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But on the plus side, my homepage now has over a dozen virtual ladybugs crawling around it, and they don't hate me. Yet.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:341598</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/341598.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=341598"/>
    <title>Travels with Remus</title>
    <published>2007-09-19T04:39:53Z</published>
    <updated>2007-09-19T04:39:53Z</updated>
    <lj:music>Skinny Puppy - Pro-test</lj:music>
    <content type="html">(Backdated to Friday, 'cause Becky doesn't have wireless (fail).)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, random title. It's related to the icon, which I'm using, because right now I'm in St. Louis. I'm on my way to visit Becky; 8 hours of driving down, 6 to go. I've stopped to rest my eyes. So, of course, I'm blogging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hours ago I was bored playing Kentucky Leap Frog. What that is: in Kentucky, all the highways have signs saying "stay in right lane unless passing". Honestly, it makes sense, since it gets all the slow-ass people who for some reason think they belong in the fast lane out of my fucking way. News Flash: The left lane is NOT for doing the speed limit! The word 'limit' is misleading; the speed limit is the absolute MINIMUM you should be doing in my left lane. Now &lt;b&gt;move your ass!!!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahem. I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, the highway customs of Kentucky create a situation where you're left constantly swinging into the left lane, passing some slow car or truck, and pulling back in the right lane, creating a sort of sideways hopping. And sometimes, two fast cars (one of them usually me) will take turns passing each other and pulling back in the right lane, just to be passed again, creating a sort of leap-frog effect. Hence, Kentucky Leap Frog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Shut up. It gets boring crossing four states (and I think three to go).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since getting to Illinois, whenever I go through a highway construction zone, I see signs saying:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;center&gt;HIT A WORKER&lt;br /&gt;$10,000 FINE&lt;br /&gt;14 YRS JAIL&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....That sounds like a fair price, don't you think? $10,000 for a healthy adult (probably white) male? That's less than you'd pay in Hostel. Sounds like a good deal to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And can I just say, St. Louis &lt;b&gt;sucks&lt;/b&gt;? Because it majorly does. I figured, since I'm here, my mom will want a picture of the Arch. (See icon.) So I get my camera phone ready (several times, since the damn thing goes to sleep if you don't use it in under a minute) and keep waiting for the arch to be decently visible. And wait. And wait. And nearly miss my turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, technically I &lt;i&gt;did&lt;/i&gt; miss my turn. That's how fucked up the roads were there. Luckily, there was a second-chance entrance to the highway I needed; apparently the locals here are as dumb as tourists and need re-dos while driving the same roads on a daily basis. All I can say is, thank God for idiots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ended up getting a decent shot of the arch, and then the road suddenly became an exit that dumped me on this majorly busy highway. As I hurried to toss my phone away and try to merge without getting hit by a huge truck barreling up behind me, suddenly the arch loomed there directly above me, lit up by the sun, as if to say "you want a good shot? Here's your picturesque shot! Aww, you already put away your camera? Well then FUCK YOU ALABAMA GIRL!!! &lt;b&gt;BWAHAHAHAHA!!!!!&lt;/b&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, St. Louis = suck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did see a cool bumper sticker while in St. Louis, though. I passed the person too fast to read the small print on the bottom, but the top half was cool enough. It read, simply:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;b&gt;FRODO FAILED&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remind me to look up that sticker to find out what the rest said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll leave you with this thought, overheard being said by the drive-thru girl at Taco Bell:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"We're Taco Bell...? The place that sells tacos?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mell in Illinois (or wherever the fuck I am now, Kansas? God help me), over and out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quick update from Missouri:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off, my apologies to anyone who lives in Missouri, but it must be said: Missouri &lt;b&gt;sucks&lt;/b&gt;. Big time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started looking for a BP soon after St. Louis. I found one after about 50 miles; it was closed. Finally, with less than a quarter tank (and most of my nerves), I found one in fucking Branson, over 100 miles away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and also? Missouri labels their highways with letters. Not numbers, not &lt;i&gt;names&lt;/i&gt;. Letters. Singles and doubles. And they don't do different doubles, like AK, FU or whatever. No, it's routes A-Z, and routes AA-ZZ. Which gives a grand total of 48 possible highways in the entire state. ....That sounds about right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, Missouri can kiss my ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed something interesting during my drive: there is a very fine line between really good driving music and "get out of the car and punch someone in the face" music. I'm pretty sure the two overlap. Or maybe it's just Missouri that makes me want to punch people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...No, I usually want to punch people. Missouri and the music is just exacerbating the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, if you've been good enough to stick with me this long, you deserve a treat. So I'm offering up a survey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was at 40mph through a residential neighborhood while trying to minimize my browser to bring back up WMP that I made a rather obvious realization: computing and driving do not mix.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily no lives were lost (that was totally a shadow, not a bunny). But it made me wonder, so I ask you the question:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;b&gt;What is the worst thing you've ever done while driving?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Note:&lt;/b&gt; The question does NOT say "what is the &lt;i&gt;naughtiest&lt;/i&gt; thing you've ever done while driving", but rather "what is the &lt;i&gt;worst&lt;/i&gt;", as in "most dangerous, irresponsible thing". (Of course, if you did something naughty behind the wheel, and did it properly, I imagine that would certainly qualify as dangerous.) Felonies need not apply (unless they're juicy).</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:341480</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/341480.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=341480"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2007-09-12T17:49:00</title>
    <published>2007-09-12T22:49:26Z</published>
    <updated>2007-09-12T22:49:26Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I'm back in Birmingham. I'm sleeping a lot, preparing for my next trip in a matter of day. I'm heading out to Nebraska to visit Becky for her birthday. Much fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brain is still dead. Luckily I don't use it while driving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://body.aol.com/condition-center/mens-sexual-health/news/article/_a/men-prize-good-looks-in-mate-more-than/20070905120009990001" target="_blank"&gt;And this depresses the living crap out of me.&lt;/a&gt; What's a girl like me to do? (Answer: Invest in chloroform.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I still have to post all about being in DC. And I will, when brain start working again. Try back in October.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:341006</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/341006.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=341006"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2007-08-26T00:36:00</title>
    <published>2007-08-26T04:37:04Z</published>
    <updated>2007-08-26T04:37:04Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I haven't posted much about my trip so far, so I'll post now. And in the process, I'll touch down a bit on my trip to Florida two months ago, which I still haven't really written about, due to laziness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've come to a realization: Some of the best moments in life are spent riding around late at night with friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Whether it be in Atlanta, driving around with Rose, Becca, Tekkie and his friends, looking for Wal-mart at 3 in the morning (I still loved yelling "GET BACK IN THE CAR, JORGE!" in front of the liquor store XD)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Or in Florida, cruising around back roads with Tekkie and Brittany (and Rose, though she was asleep), where we called just about everyone on Brittany's call list using my phone so they wouldn't recognize the number (Brittany demanding Jorge sing is still the best, followed closely by me calling Tekkie, sitting next to me in the car, to ask him what he was wearing)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or last week in &lt;b&gt;VA&lt;/b&gt; with Jacqui and Reecy, when we got stopped at that sobriety checkpoint, and Jacqui was so unnerved that Reecy ended up seeming more on top of the situation ("should I put it in 'drive' for you?"), and then later stopping at the red light with Kanye West's "Gold Digger" playing at top volume with the windows down, and those two very drunk guys in the cab rolled down their window to ask if we were "doing the weed?" (Reecy: "Are &lt;i&gt;you&lt;/i&gt;?"). And, of course, tailgating ambulances. For once I knew what it felt like to be a lawyer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need more times like that. And for that to happen, I need more local friends. Not enough people live in Birmingham. And so, I've come up with a solution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trina and Dan must move back to Birmingham. Then Casey and Mikey can move out from Tuscaloosa. After that, Becky gets her van and travels out to Alabama to meet us. Next, everyone else I know moves to Birmingham as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or, failing that, I must go to where all my friends are. Which, right now, seems to be Florida, in respect to general concentration. I've made a lot of Florida friends somehow, all before I even set foot in the state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this theory ignores one simple fact, that being that Florida is yucky and hot and smells like boiled cabbage. Plus it's covered in lizards. Alabama has lizards too, but much less per capita. There's a much lower human-to-lizard ratio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So me going to Florida: not likely any time soon. Not until the lizards leave, at least. And all other reptiles, in fact, including Jeb Bush. In fact, the lizards can stay, so long as Jeb Bush goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which means I need to find more local friends. Because late night car stories are priceless, and should be experienced as often as possible.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:340941</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/340941.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=340941"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2007-08-25T10:23:00</title>
    <published>2007-08-25T14:23:17Z</published>
    <updated>2007-08-25T14:23:17Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Today's &lt;b&gt;Quote of the Day&lt;/b&gt; goes to &lt;span  class="ljuser  i-ljuser  i-ljuser-type-P     "  data-ljuser="ponyboy" lj:user="ponyboy" &gt;&lt;a href="https://ponyboy.livejournal.com/profile/"  target="_self"  class="i-ljuser-profile" &gt;&lt;img  class="i-ljuser-userhead"  src="https://l-stat.livejournal.net/img/userinfo_v8.png?v=17080&amp;v=923.1" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="https://ponyboy.livejournal.com/" class="i-ljuser-username"   target="_self"   &gt;&lt;b&gt;ponyboy&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt; in their icon community &lt;span  class="ljuser  i-ljuser  i-ljuser-deleted  i-ljuser-type-P     "  data-ljuser="iconzicons" lj:user="iconzicons" &gt;&lt;a href="https://iconzicons.livejournal.com/profile/"  target="_self"  class="i-ljuser-profile" &gt;&lt;img  class="i-ljuser-userhead"  src="https://l-stat.livejournal.net/img/userinfo_v8.png?v=17080&amp;v=923.1" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="https://iconzicons.livejournal.com/" class="i-ljuser-username"   target="_self"   &gt;&lt;b&gt;iconzicons&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. You can find it in &lt;a href="http://iconzicons.livejournal.com/171113.html#cutid1" target="_blank"&gt;this post&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;CEDRIC DIGGORY DIED FOR YOUR SINS!!! *doooom*&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;Wait. No he didn't. He died like a bitch.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long live the poofy-haired hero of Hufflepuff. Rock on wit yo dead self, Ceddy.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:mellacious:340678</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/340678.html"/>
    <link rel="self" type="text/xml" href="https://mellacious.livejournal.com/data/atom/?itemid=340678"/>
    <title>mellacious @ 2007-08-19T21:20:00</title>
    <published>2007-08-20T01:21:08Z</published>
    <updated>2007-08-20T01:21:08Z</updated>
    <content type="html">This is the first time I've really had a chance (and the inclination) to write since getting back to VA. I apologize to all my imaginary friends who have been waiting breathlessly to hear of my trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being back here feels... weird, for lack of a better term. Familiar, yet foreign. Considering the fact that, in about 90% of my dreams, I'm back in the house in Sugarland, I didn't have nearly the same sense of "going home" that I would have expected. NoVa has grown in my absence, and I in it's, and in doing so we've grown apart. I suppose it's a good thing; DC was never the best place to be attached to, particularly in the last 7 years. Still, it's a bit melancholy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing I've missed about DC (not that I ever took advantage of it while I lived here) is all the great events going on. The 9:30 club, where I saw The Dreamscapes Project last night, is hosting a bunch of great concerts in September, including Metric, which I'd give my right kidney to see. Alas, I will most likely be back in B'ham by then, so I guess it's just not meant to be. Bob Dylan is also coming to DC at the Merriweather, and unlike when he came to B'ham with a bunch of legendary country acts, &lt;small&gt;&lt;small&gt;("legendary country" should be a contradiction in terms)&lt;/small&gt;&lt;/small&gt; he's bringing with him Elvis Costello, who honestly is the more impressive of acts to me between the two. It's disappointing, the amount of things I miss out on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to go see Maureen tomorrow, and based on that visit, I may drop JPN 201 this semester. As much as I wanted to go all the way with Japanese, and as much as I love my classmates, I've gotten as many credits towards my degree as I can out of the the course, and without an income I really can't afford to be taking pointless credits anymore. Plus it's at 9 am, which would kill me. In any event, the deciding factor will be how long it looks like Maureen's recovery will take; as much as I want to take 201, helping out family comes first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck tomorrow.</content>
  </entry>
</feed>
