Mel's Puddle of Thought

mel's puddle of thought ...
"... And I have to speculate that God himself Did make us into corresponding shapes like Puzzle pieces from the clay :: from "such great heights", track two on the postal service's album "give up" :: Monday, September 30, 2002 Second day of Calc. Oh boy! It wasn't bad, I guess. Steve is going to be totally funny... I can tell... he's from Chicago/Chino hills. hehe. He was in traffic longer than I was this morning, which doesn't happen very often. He's dorming in Middle Earth, where I dormed two years ago. I feel his pain. Those beds Suck. Over the weekend, I bought a wooden crate. Yay! Only this time, Beverly, the guy was nice and let me have it for a buck. Then I went to Home Depot and coersed the cutting guy (only sort of cute) to cut cull lumber for me, which is just the cheap, 21 cent scraps. Then I came home and put it all together and... tada! I have a new bookcase. It's really cool. Dad's not back from where ever he was this weekend, so I don't have a reaxtion from him yet. My guess is, he'll look at it, look at me, and say: it's an old wooden crate. So? Anyway, I'd better go do something, like clean. Five days on my own is too much for anyone's good. this written by Mel at 10:32 AM Friday, September 27, 2002 So I survived my first day of classes. I almost got lost. Well, that's not true. I knew where I was. I just didn't know where my class was. But is okay. I met this guy Steve, and together we found it. My calc professor is totally funny. But hard to understand. And I'm not allowed to use my graphing calculator!! I should have taken Calc in HS. Bummer. No notes or book either, on tests, I mean. I'm going to die. It's really cold here. I'm in socks for the first time in months. And house pants. And a long sleaved T-shirt. Brr. Maybe I should try closing some of these doors and windows? Especially since I'm here alone... again.... Gotta run. I have a zillion more pages to read.... this written by Mel at 10:14 PM Friday, September 20, 2002 IF you are one of three guys who were crawling down the 605 today around 3:00-3:30 in a black pick-up truck with a radier's sticker on the back window... E-MAIL ME!!!!!! I am the Dave Matthews Band girl!!!! I love you!!!!! E-mail me!!!!!! You made my day, maybe even my entire week!!!!!! Thank you!! Thank you!!! Thank you!!!! Now E-mail me! My number is...... :) *For all the rest of you, today was a great* day.** this written by Mel at 4:17 PM Sunday, September 15, 2002 I must have a gigant-o sign that screams out "I need therapy. I have relationship issues and an unhealthy fear of commitment. Please tell me I need help so I can seek it. Thank you." Why is that? And why now? I just don't get it. this written by Mel at 5:21 PM Wednesday, September 11, 2002 Saddleback Church is home to nearly 20,000 Southern Californians. Not all of them are Americans, but today, you couldn't tell the difference. Imagine half of those 20,000 crowed on to Saddleback's roling acherage to memorialize those heros lost and those lessens learned on 9/11 2001. Saddleback holds six services every weekend. Of those six, four are standing room only, on a nornal day. That doesn't mean standing room only in the chiar section in the front, or only in the bleachers in the back. Or standing room only on one of six outside patios. It means packed all these places. Now imagine half of the entire church family together, at one time. Imagine taking 45 minutes to get out of the parking lot. Imagine standing, stunned, for two and a half hours, as name, after name, after name of innocents are read. Two and a half hours. Do you have any idea how many names that is? Imagine reflection, grief, that hint of fear that was first felt durring first period one year ago. Is Los Angeles next? Are my freinds okay? Is my dad in the air today? And calm. That wonderful, sweeping calm, sweet, familure, calm. And a silent prayer of thanks. I have a home, I have a family, I have friends that I love very much. I have a bed (now) and shoes. Yesterday, the LA Times published my letter to the editor. How often does that happen in other countires? This is not a day of sorrowful reflection, this should be a day of thankful jubilation. Thank you, every one of you. I love you more than you may ever know. this written by Mel at 2:18 PM Saturday, September 07, 2002 I can cook. Yes, it's true. I made dinner last night for daddy and Gayle and Amanda. Oh, hurrah. Trying to be nice is making me tired. Too bad I can't sleep in anymore..... they'll probably sleep until 10 or 11. But I had some screwed up, wacky dreams last night.... Today is the wedding. You all know how I feel about weddings. And this whole feeling that my dad is trying to domesticate me by teaching me to cook and keep house and do my own laundary. I do appreciate it. I mean, I have to learn sometime. But it only compounds my whole, yes, marraige is hell and you just get yourself all sucked in. And don't give me that fluff about how marraige is a partership and marraige is a beautiful thing, and blah, blah blah, blah blah. I've heard it all before. Anyway, I am not looking forward to it. 1) don't have anything to wear. 2) it's Gayle's friend's daughter's wedding. I don't know anyone. 3) I'm not really looking forward to getting drunk. I always get drunk at weddings. I haven't been to a wedding since I was 10. Now you know why. Hmmm... I'd really like some OJ. I wonder how disruptive I can be on the way to the kitchen... hmmm.... I wonder if we caught Ralph last night..... that would be fun. If Amanda or Gayle, er, um, discovered our little friend. Oh well. this written by Mel at 7:43 AM Tuesday, September 03, 2002 I find myself smiling. Tuesday is trash day, and my neighbors, with the simple faith of thier snot-nosed children, have dutifully places thier trashcans on the curb, undaunted by the searing hot weather, the Monday holiday, or the earthquake that almost always seems to follow the combination. (Yes, there was an earthquake. I knew I felt something last night, despite my dad's sleepy attempts to "blow me off." his words. he called and apologized sometime this morning. I know an earthquake when it jolts me out of sleep, for goodness sake. Anyway...) Such optimism! Why, of course, one of the unassuming children from somewhere nearby tells me, of course the trash man will come today. Well, actually, it sounds more along the lines of Dy, a'cawse de drash ma will 'om oday. Had I not tried to run over this same child earlier today, I may have smiled, but instead I shook my head and returned to the sana that is my house. So much faith, as if they thought that by just believing they could actually make the trash man appear on this, his schedualed day. I wish I could have that sort of faith in man and beast. Mostly, however, I just wish that this trick of the mind would work on Ralph, who haunts my dreams with more deliberance than the relentless memory of a lost soul mate. If the neighbors can will the trash man into comming, surely I can will Ralph into going away. Alas, it is 5:55pm, and the trash man has not come. Despite hoping for several days, Ralph is still among us. All the proof I need that this sort of wishful thinking just doesn't work. Which is why I'm leaving the trash out until tomorrow, and why I have been gleefully watching the poison dwindle in the past three days. He. He. He. Humm.... this written by Mel at 5:59 PM Sunday, September 01, 2002 I have a bed!!!!! Hurrah!! Down with the futon. Oh, by the way, I am selling the futon for $40, unless that's too much, in which case I'll take less. It's got a white frame and a south-western theamed futon cover. it's in really great shape, but it's not very comfy for the long term. I am also selling a solid cherrywood butterfly-drop-leaf table. If any of your or your families are interested, you know how to reach me. Was it ever hot in Anaheim today..... 105. I envy all of you that got away. Eternity is a very long time..... this written by Mel at 11:40 PM	links to people: :: beverly's homepage :: :: beverly's journal :: :: tom's blog :: :: my blog's name is jennifer ... mackenzie's journal :: :: insanity is contagious...kunal's journal :: :: gary's kustace :: links to music: :: something corporate's official Site :: :: david crowder band :: :: dave matthews band :: :: dave matthews in brazil :: :: the get up kids :: :: further seems forever :: :: relient k :: links to neat stuff: :: it's walky! WIIGII! :: :: pvp :: :: the visual thesaurus :: :: maystar :: :: arr.... how to talk like a pirate :: :: the X Prize :: current book: lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. newest cd: "give up" by the postal service "destination beautiful" by mae "treats" from barsuk records "we have the facts and we're voting yes" by death cab for cutie "you can play these songs with chords" by death cab for cutie "something about areoplanes" by death cab for cutie "this is a pinback cd" by pinback "tell all your friends" by taking back sunday "a mark, a mission, a brand, a scar" by dashboard confessional "ok go" by ok go "how to start a fire" by further seems forever "two wrongs don't make a right... but three do" by relient k "transatlanticism" by death cab for cutie "the moon and antarctica" by modest mouse "on a wire" by the get up kids in the mail: big news: I'm gettin married.... email me about anything