Dear Bill, I don't dream of celebrities often, let alone someone I hadn't thought of for several months and especially not someone who's barely even known here in America. In any case, I hadn't remembered a dream quite so vividly for some time; that in itself is a mixed blessing because the last person I dreamt of in such a way was committed to rehab days later. I felt what you felt - and you felt pressured and trapped, even amidst your bandmates and brother. Stifled and on the brink of something ... and I felt the overwhelming need to protect you - from what, I'm not sure, whatever caused you so much worry and stress - friends, the public, your fans, the world, yourself ... In every scenario, you went away ... and when you returned, I was always there, waiting for you, in case you needed me; sometimes you walked on by, sometimes with a glance towards me and a sigh of relief and an occasional smile, sometimes you simply stood next to me for a moment, taking in the peace of the moment. We rarely spoke, and when we did, words were fleeting and the memory of what was said escapes me. But I was always there when you came back, like your favorite teddy bear or childhood blanket. I did the math. When I had that dream, it was the middle of the night where you are - around 1:00 AM, to be exact. You should have been sleeping ... you more than likely WERE sleeping. For a reason, whatever the reason might be, your subconscious called out to my own. Why your mind would contact someone on the other side of the world, I am not sure - but understand that I got the message and I listened carefully. Throughout the dream, I thought of you as a little brother or nephew, a child - you were someone to protect, not a fantasy as many of your adoring European fans may see you. You are still young and have much left to see, life to experience. I look forward to the day when I do finally meet you, a fully grown, talented and knowledgeable young man. Until then, I wait on the other side of the world. You are welcome to visit me when you are ready, but until then ... Ich hoff du schliefst gut aus.

Tuzday's Child ... ... is the BOMB!!! We're SO back in business! Mmmm ... good to be back! Boiler Room this Friday and Saturday! Be there! Tuzday's Child

I've already answered this in the comments on my friend's live journal, but I thought I'd meme a friend here, too. I'm so evil. I blame the internet ... Quietseth 1. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it. Baxter the Fly – and you know why. 2. Am I loveable? On a teddy bear-level, unfortunately. Even the straight guys get all … uh … nevermind. 3. How long have you known me? Five and a half years. 4. When and how did we first meet? Ice cream social, when you signed up for Players. Mmm, crushed M&M’s … 5. What was your first impression? He’s little … (tee hee). 6. Do you still think that way about me now? Well, you are kind of small, and I know that you know it, but your heart, mind, and personality definitely make up for it, little Hobbit. 7. What do you think my weakness is? Hedgehog Dilemma. Avoidant of issues because you just don’t want to face them – i.e. you think that some major problems will just fix themselves by ignorance rather than attempting to aid in the solution. Harsh, I know, but we’ve already had this talk. 8. Do you think I'll get married? Not in this country. 9. What makes me happy? Lee, rest, being alone, the Fine Arts building, radio, hanging out with the band, a ball of string, thunder storms/storm chasing, your CD collection, cartoons, dancing (without people watching), law shows. 10. What makes me sad? Your family, the world in general, the human race in general, the thought of your car breaking down, yourself when you let your mind wander at night and I walk past your room and find you bawling because you have been thinking about supernovas and nothingness again. Yeah. Uh huh. Stop that. 11. What reminds you of me? Cain Hargreaves, the color green, Autumn, 97x, TMNT (bzz bzz), Hal Sparks, Placebo, JTHM and Squee, Mountain Dew Pitch Black, candy, “Jesus H. Christ on a goat-shaped anal swizzle stick. “ 12. If you could give me anything what would it be? ”MY LIFE FOR YOU!!! MY LIFE FOR YOU!!!” 13. How well do you know me? It’s like having a twin-like connection at all times. We finish each other’s sentences. Hell, I even know the face you make when you want cheese on your baked potato. By the way, your cloves are in the pocket of your brown jacket. 14. When's the last time you saw me? A little over an hour ago, when we watched Boondocks. 15. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't? Yes, but I did find a rather tactful way to bring it into conversation. You thanked me for it. 16. Do you think I could kill someone? Maybe … depends … have you had your coffee? 17. Describe me in one word. Bohemia. 18. Do you think our friendship is getting stronger/weaker/or staying the same? The same, really. I mean, we’re still discovering things about each other, but it doesn’t change our relationship. 19. Do you feel that you could talk to me about anything and I would listen? Yes, you always listen to me – even when you don’t want to. The duct tape really helps with that. 20. Are you going to put this on your journal and see what I say about you? I made mashed potatoes …

Ascetical Bees I watched a bee on the playground today, buzzing so busily from clover to clover. My first thought was “Steve needs to cut the grass.” My second thought was a memory of the time a three-year-old boy tried to catch a bee and was stung on the index finger, stinger still in his skin. We called his mother who was worried that he might be allergic but didn’t know since he’d never been stung before. Fortunately, there was no tragic, Thomas J. ending to the day, as his finger didn’t even swell. Lucky bastard. But the memory of the incident sparking my thinking on the bee … What is the purpose of the bee? The queen reproduces, the drones protect the queen, the workers collect and store food as well as protect the young. Everyone in the bee society is busy with his/her own personal duty. And yet, their only form of defense is the stinger. They protect the hive, the queen, food, young, selves – with the stinger. And at what cost? Upon stinging their enemy or threat, they lose their stingers and die shortly after. Seems a cruel hand Nature had dealt them. Seems Nature favored the wasp more. Poor bees – and with such noble self-sacrifice. I know that the bumblebee defies the laws of physics – it’s body is too bulky and heavy in proportion to its wings and yet it continues to fly. A phenomenon, I tell you! Then I started to wonder about defying said laws. What if one of these laws is time? When we see bees, they’re usually flying so fast, so busy, wings moving so rapidly that you can’t even see them. What if to them, they’re moving at a normal, leisurely, andante-esque pace and we just seem like some really large, slow moving animals? Bees have caused me to contemplate time and all I know of it. What if our concept of time is completely wrong? What if the entire universe is on some sort of eternal, cosmic clock that only the truly enlightened comprehend? (Is that why I feel certain things at random times at night and day? Is that the clock that the cicadas live by?) Or what if the universe has no set time at all? What if the universe time is synchronized with that of the bee’s concept? Do bees even conceive time? Makes me wish bees could talk (in known human language) – or that I had bee telepathy. (I smell the start of the new era of superheroes!) I wonder what they’d say. Wish that I could interpret bee dance. I bet bees are highly intelligent creatures and Humans just can’t fathom that because there is no comprehensible form of communication between the two species. The way they interpret each other’s dances is amazing. They have a whole system of communication – not to mention a society with a leader, government/law enforcement rank, as well as a class system. Can it be that bees have achieved civilization? P.S. I'm reposting some entries here from my other online journal that I, sadly, pay more attention to than this one. Spiffcoli

Why do we measure distance in time? Back in the days before physical measurement, I could understand: “Travel with the sun to your back for three days and you’ll reach Avalon.” But thanks to ancient mathematics, we finally understand the concept of distance by physical means – miles, kilometers, clicks, etc. Instead of saying that it’s 334 miles from Los Angeles to San Jose, we say it’s a little over six hours – traffic being generous. Has it just become ingrained in our minds and habitual over the years to use time as a form of measurement? Or have we become lazy? Or perhaps we live in such a high-paced, stressed-out world now that all that seems to matter is time, so we measure everything in time. And if that is the case … How do we measure time? P.S. My cat is snoring, which I find mildly amusing. He entered my room and didn’t know what to do with himself since the pile of clothes is missing from my floor. So, naturally, he conquers my pillow, leaving me with nothing – which is fine, considering I can’t sleep anyway. I think the nerves of returning to school have finally caught up with me. But the cat’s snoring is easing those nerves a bit; good to know at least one of us is getting sleep.

These are some post-party pics. Actual pictures taken during the party of myself and friends will be scanned and posted later once I get them developed. Spiffy decided to be Devi D. for Halloween this year. A playful wink from Spiffy, of course. See the purple hair? Yeah, it’s purple. It didn’t so much bother me to spray on all that purple color – it was the fifteen minutes it took me to actually get my hair up into pig tails … ugh. Only ONE person knew who I was tonight. ONE. Not counting Darren, of course. And it wasn’t even someone I knew. It was some random dude at the Bugaloo Bash – which was so crowded, I just had to get out of there after Flat Stanley’s second set. Sorry, guys. It was just too much. Kevin thought I was Delirium at first – I was impressed that he remembered what I used to dress up as. Damn, I miss hanging out with him. He was fun. He was also dressed as Edward Scissorhands tonight – and I got a picture of that along with Darren and Troy dressed up as Jay and Silent Bob – but those pictures will be coming in a later entry. Spiffy looks like a Devi caught in headlights. Someday my undead prince will come … and eat the Chinese waiter’s brains. Braaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnssssssss …. Spiffy goes Vulcan for Roman … oh yes. BE HAPPY! Shh! Don’t tell anyone … And Spiffy is exhausted. I went to work for 6 hours, immediately followed by a performance by the Players that was THE most horribly painful theatre experience I’d EVER had … EVER (sorry Kev) – and then went to two parties – and now, here I sit, exhausted, eating a chocolate cupcake, because Kroger’s cupcakes are so much better than Wal-Mart's … Hm … should I bother washing my hair before bed? Or just sleep with a towel on my pillow and no shirt? … yeah, I think I’ll do that last one … Woot. Don’t forget to set your clocks back … P.S. The bars around here close at 2:00 AM ... but Daylight Savings Time STARTS at 2:00 AM, meaning that when the bars are supposed to close, they're able to stay open for an extra hour, thereby beating the system! Whoa. See now? They know what they're doing. ...

Some photos that have been taken in the last month or so ... I went outside today … in the sunlight. The sky was quite blue. Princess went outside, too. I can be coy ... It’s so hard to look evil when it’s sunny out … Sunlight ... go figure. I actually look pretty good.

First and foremost: If someone is yelling urgently “Everybody get down! GET DOWN!” Please, immediately duck to the floor. This entry really isn’t anything but to explain a dream I had this morning, just before noon. Yes, I’d been having trouble sleeping again – just a lot on my mind, I guess. I finally managed to slip into unconsciousness around dawn … In any case, the dream I had just before noon was rather Evangelion-esque. I don’t know why I had a dream like this, I mean, I haven’t watched Evangelion in maybe two years. But in any case, here goes my explanation. (If you don’t get some of the references, don’t feel bad. There’s someone out there who hasn’t seen it yet, either.) In dream world, it was overcast, and our world was under attack by supernatural creatures. I’m not really sure what they were. But I was a pilot of an Eva-like suit along with four others. We all wore body suits that doubled as armor – mine was grey and teal-blue. We were stationed in this building in a large, grey city. And whatever our enemy was, was sending in their mass army – everything our enemy had, they were sending it. The earliest thing I remember is one of the pilots – a petite girl with red hair – returning and immediately going to suit up. All of us just stared at her in disbelief because, well, she was dead. Or rather, she was supposed to be dead. We’d seen her body, she’d been buried – and there she was suiting up before us. A bit surreal. Of course, it’s at realizing this, that I go lucid in my dream – at least a little bit. I was to understand that, though not the leader, I was “the best pilot” … better with strategies and tactics than the others. I remember something about a countdown, and the Big Bad saying that they would destroy everything, all the people – who knew nothing about what was going on; the main populace was clueless as a large creature – I can only describe it as a creature – came stomping through the city. They said something about starting first with the low flying aircraft if someone wasn’t sent out to fight them. Then, outside the building, there’s a large, Predator-esque figure with a machine gun – right outside our base’s window … apparently our base was hidden within some public building. There were people just walking on by, clueless, as this monster aims its gun at the window. I yell as I grab an innocent and push her to the ground, covering her, “Everybody get down! GET DOWN! Don’t you understand me? GET DOWN!” I got a bunch of stupid stares from these people. Some of them understand, and immediately duck to the floor. I grabbed another person who didn’t and just continued to yell for everyone to get down. The monster starts firing, following the perimeter of this large, rectangular window. “GET DOWN!” I scream, but these people get shot up. There’s blood everywhere. And this one woman with shoulder-length brown hair and a beige outfit, turns to me, her head filled with bullet holes, face pale, blood trickling with eyes wide. She says, barely audible, afraid, “Why does it hurt? I don’t understand …” And then fell to the floor, dead. … I’ll come back to this. We were then warned by the Big Bad that we had until 6:15 to send out our best warriors or they would start attacking low-flying aircraft. All those innocent, unsuspecting people … It was 6:13. (I’ll also come back to this.) One of the other pilots – a guy about my age, a little taller, light-brown hair, side-burns, white blouse – starts to run out of the place. I start yelling at him to stop. I’m calling out his name – I can’t remember it now. I did when I woke up, but now I can’t recall. But I was screaming at him to come back because he wasn’t wearing his armor. I remember seeing him stop just outside the door, turning to look at the Predator-esque monster. I took off then, running toward my battle suit – I was going to help him. I was worried that I was too late. I remember running … and then I woke up. Rather exciting dream, I thought. Different than the ones I had been having. Getting back to the 6:13 thing … I may be Buddhist, but I’m actually fairly superstitious about some things … the time of 6:13 is one of them. You know how there’s that old superstition about looking at a clock when it reads “3:33” or “5:55” or something like that? It’s supposed to be lucky or mean that someone’s thinking about you or … something. Well, anyway, any time I look at a clock and it says “6:13” … well … bad things tend to happen. I’ll have a bad day, or I’ll get not-so-good news or an unhappy phone call … just something will happen within the 24 hours of seeing 6:13 on a clock. The fact that the other pilot ran out of the building at 6:13 has me worried that he didn’t survive the stand-out. I mean, I know he did it, to show that someone was willing to fight so that the innocent would not be needlessly slain … very noble, but sad. And for the woman … what she said. “Why does it hurt? I don’t understand.” I have a lot of theories – one of them being that if you are seriously hurt in your dream, and are lucid, it will carry over into real life, depending on the nature of the injury. (Yes, there is a more long-winded and detailed explanation of this theory, but this entry is already long enough. I’ll just have to get to it another time.) My guess? This woman became lucid as she was being shot. Nevertheless, it was a haunting, parting image. I hope she’s not really dead. Would make a good addition to the Nightmare Project, however …

Guess who's back, back again! Too L.A. Spiffy's been. I'm back from California. Yes. My hair is purple. I don't really like it that much. Mom hates it, dad thinks it's funny - and Darren hasn't seen it yet. However, in approximately 15 minutes, I'll be moseying over to the happy little beauty salon and fixing it because, well, it sucks, in my opinion. Mom took pictures this afternoon though, said it was slowly starting to grow on her. Damn you, L.A! Anyway - much fun occured, despite the circumstance of Sophia (Mal's roommate)'s dad having cirrosus of the liver and moving in to the apartment on Saturday because he only has 2 days to 2 weeks to live. It was a trying time, Mal constantly apologizing to me that all the badness was going down this weekend - I told her it didn't matter to me - I was just happy to see her again. I'll explain lots more later, but here's a run down. *Delays up the wazoo in Dallas because of a ground stop due to thunderstorms *Didn't get in to Ontario until after 11. *Dinner/Breakfast/Banana splits at Denny's after pick-up. *Sleeping in while Mal went to work and being tortured in bed by the hyper-active, neurotic kitten, Jolie ... who can fetch. *Seeing the mountains from Mal's bedroom window ... wow. Mountains. *Breakfast/Lunch at Little Ceasar's. *Downing an entire bag of crazy bread before picking up Mal's friend Brian. *Brian in the car with us to help eat the large cheese pizza that we were stupid enough to think we'd finish by ourselves. *My stomach realizing - "Hey! Food! What is this stuff you're putting in me? It tastes good, but there's a lot of it - I think I'll get rid of some by trying to send it back the way it came." *The Canyon ... wow. Mountains. *The 99 cent store. *Supersaver Warehouse. *REAL California Oranges. *REAL California nectarines. *REAL California raisins. *Starbucks on every corner, no lie! *Azuza Pacific University ... APU. Yes, there is a Quik-E-Mart on one of the campuses. *The hunt for lighter fluid. *Huntington Beach. *Sunset on the beach. *Hot Asian guys playing with their umbrella poles as if they were light sabres. *Attacked by King Neptune - soaked from knees down. *Playing guitar - having guitar borrowed by Elizabeth who was playing a procession for Saturday Beach Wedding. *Playing more guitar. *S'mores a la Butane lighter. *Was that Reese Witherspoon playing Bocce? *Californian disorderly Wal-Mart. *Lots and lots of lights and driving. *Scariness that is "the freeway." *Crashing at Mal's place. Literally falling onto the bed and sleeping once in contact with pillow. *Cancelling Saturday Disneyland trip due to Sophia's dad ... sad day. *Meeting Sophia's 3-year-old cousing who loves Snappers, poppers, and sparklers but is scared to death of Jolie. *Thai Food - OH MY GOD! Tofu Clay Pot for LIFE! We so need a Thai restaurant here. *Starbucks! (We so need a Starbucks here, too.) *Hollywood Boulevard. *The Sign. *The Kodak. *The Walk of Fame. *Chinese Theatre. *Willie Wonka - what a way to promote a movie. *I could have sworn that was Steve Sikora. *Gold guy with gold boombox. *HILLS! Oh my god! THE HILLS! *San Dimas. *Something is afoot at the Circle K. *The In-N-Out experience. *Purple hair. *Psycho pathological-liar Bobby. *Drama ... not the theatrical kind, either. *Nikki! *Chicago - blowing off steam. *Your mobiles are so cool. *Starbucks ... again. *Airport ... sniff ... bye to Mal. Explanations on these subjects will be offered at a later time. Right now, I'm in desperate need of leaving so I can fix this hair. Later Days.

I'm going to California! I'm going to California! I leave in half an hour to hit the road to Louisville, and fly ACROSS THE COUNTRY to see my Mally Mal Mal Mally Mal Malinda Fugate. Yay ... ten hours on a plane/in an airport ... alas. Well, then again, it took me two and a half days to get across country by car back in the day ... ... I know, I can hear some guys out there like "two and a half days to go that far? My god! What are you? A TURTLE?!" These are the same guys who time themselves on long trips and cut every nook and cranny they can, taking every shortcut possible, borderlining speeding the entire way there ... just so they can "beat last year's time." Yay. I like to stop for a cup of coffee and a few naps, thank you! So I'm bringing reading and writing materials, a few CD's (some that my brother and Brandon burned for me), and extra batteries aside from the usual packing stuff. Say goodbye to me - I'm off! Take care everyone! NAMASTE! "I think the name is Abby." "Abby Who?" "Abby Normal?"

Sigh. I'm tired. And ... I don't really care if there's a bunch of blogs out there who claim I'm Jhonen writing under an alias ... ... or about Michael Jackson's fate ... ... or if my plane gets hi-jacked ... ... or if some random person buys a ticket just to sit next to me because, odds are, I'll trade places with someone anyway. Don't know why the same person is so fascinated by me anyway. There's no mystery, no flare, no excitement to my life. It's pretty blah. Speaking of life ... I've had a few people come to me today, mentioning something along the lines of "man, if I could go back in time, I would change this or this or that and this ..." No ... don't do that. You shouldn't want to change what was or is, just accept things the way they are and understand that everything happens for a reason. Accept the consequences for what has occurred and move on. Without making the mistake, how will you learn from it? There's something else I wanted to talk about ... I started thinking on it last night before bed, but you know, sometimes you forget things between the time you fall asleep and the time you wake. I've gathered the incentive, where not only do I take things as they come and live in the now instead of dwelling on past regrets ... ... but I've also learned to question everything - authority, protocol, sleep, sanity, normality ... Even my own memory. I remember things from my childhood that even my parents can't recall. I question deja vu ... the fact that I have memory of things occurring before they happen makes me feel slightly disassociative. There are times when I cannot sleep at night, while I lie awake in wait of slumber, where my mind takes over. I start to think of some of the most random things, testing things ... ... a plague of things ... And I've had a few ... well, quite a lot recently - times where this "plague" consumes me and I regurgitate my worries, insecurities, and imbalances ... I puke my thoughts out into the toilet bowl, in other words. I've seriously taken into consideration locking myself away in some random mental institution ... Just myself, my thoughts, and a couple of orderlies ... I really need to start writing some of my thoughts down. I started to do that a few months ago - even bought a new notebook just for the sake of keeping a "late night journal," but I eventually forgot about it. It's locked away in my closet somewhere ... I think it's time to get it out and actually write in it for once ...

Riiiight - I don't know who the guy/girl is who's leaving the wacko comments on my journal - but thank you! Anyway! It's been confirmed! I have received my itenerary from the booking agent, and I'm going to CALIFORNIA! (enter Led Zeppelin song here) 07Jul05 03:16pm Thursday Air American Airlines Flight# 3682 Class:S From: Louisville KY, USA 07Jul05 03:16pm Thursday To: Dallas/Ft Worth TX, U 07Jul05 04:25pm Thursday Meal: Food For Purchase Equip: ERJ-145 Jet Status: Confirmed Stops: 0 OPERATED BY AMERICAN EAGLE ONEWORLD 07Jul05 06:23pm Thursday Air American Airlines Flight# 1481 Class:S From: Dallas/Ft Worth TX, U 07Jul05 06:23pm Thursday To: Ontario CA, USA 07Jul05 07:24pm Thursday Meal: Food For Purchase Equip: McDonnell Douglas MD Status: Confirmed Stops: 0 ARR-TERMINAL 4 ONEWORLD 10Jul05 12:38pm Sunday Air American Airlines Flight# 1658 Class:S From: Ontario CA, USA 10Jul05 12:38pm Sunday To: Dallas/Ft Worth TX, U 10Jul05 05:45pm Sunday Meal: Food For Purchase Equip: McDonnell Douglas MD Status: Confirmed Stops: 0 DEP-TERMINAL 4 ONEWORLD 10Jul05 07:36pm Sunday Air American Airlines Flight# 1912 Class:S From: Dallas/Ft Worth TX, U 10Jul05 07:36pm Sunday To: Louisville KY, USA 10Jul05 10:39pm Sunday Meal: None Equip: McDonnell Douglas MD Status: Confirmed Stops: 0 HELL YES! Anyway, Sunday my household was graced with a phone call - rather late at night. This call was placed by a male individual associated with Atlanta, GA in some way, an AT&T wireless customer. They called asking for a "Melissa" and when the one answering asked "Melissa who?" he decided he must have had the wrong number. Still ... it makes me curious. ... do I know anyone from Georgia who HAS my home phone number? Normally, when I do give my number to someone, it's my cell phone. Ah, well. Maybe they'll call back another time.

I had a dream this afternoon. Yes, for those of you who don't know, I work with Bad Kitty on weekends, so sometimes I get home late on Sunday ... like 8 or 9 in the morning, and crash, and I've been known to sleep fairly late. Today, I slept until 5:30 PM ... yay. I should be well-rested for tonight. Not that I'm doing anything tonight. I had a dream involving a certain someone flying in from California to visit me for ... an unknown reason. I'm not really sure why, to be honest. But apparently, we had been planning it for a while, and I was unbelievably NOT nervous at this. I went to pick him up at the airport - I'm not sure which one - and when he came off the terminal, he was talking to my friend Christine - who had been on the same flight, it seems. She was talking about me - in a good way. I couldn't tell if we had met before or not, but she seemed to be giving him the Cliffnotes version of all that is "Spiff." So I took him home with me, and we got along remarkably well. It was as if we had known each other for some time, even though there was a slight tension there - the kind you get from meeting someone for the first time, despite how comfortable you feel with them. I made him rice balls. He wanted rice balls, so I was happy to oblige. That's really all that I remember, other than the fact that it was overcast or raining - and he liked that. There have been instances where I have shared dreams with others. I wonder if that was the case here. Given, it was the afternoon, there is a possibility that he was sleeping, however slim. Dreams are fascinating that way. In any case, I didn't really want to wake up, but my inner clock was telling me that I had been sleeping for ten hours. So I just sort of waved at him and woke up. I wonder ... It's official, by the way, I AM going to California, to L.A., to visit Mal for a weekend. My plane arrives at Ontario International at 7:53 PM, Thursday, July 7th (connecting from Dallas). I leave at 12:38 PM, Sunday, July 10th ... Somehow, it just feels like not long enough to be with her. We haven't seen each other for over 2 years, but we've talked. We were such great friends - banana splits, kite-flying and all. But her moving away to California made me so very sad, and life just wasn't the same, but I was happy for her - as she had finally gone to the place she felt she was born for. Los Angeles. Oh my. I'm so excited, I can hardly contain myself. We're going to do the usual tourist things - Hollywood sign, walk of fame, stalking celebrities ... well, no, not the stalking thing. But what I'm really looking forward to is late-night binges at the 7-11, you know, to satiate the cravings I get for Cherry Chillee Willees ... Slurpees ... Icees ... Slushies ... Brain Freezies, whatever they're called. And bonfires on the beach! We'll be dancing on the shores of the Pacific, lit by moonlight and flames, and playing our guitars like tomorrow never comes! And suddenly July 7th just can't get here fast enough.

So … I’m thinking about dying my hair a nice, rich royal purple. What do you think? Yes, I’m aware that I’m typing up an entry at a time on a day that I should be working, but alas, I can’t go to work today. I can’t even drive. Why? Because the doctor said no driving and to not have any contact with children for three days. Why? Because I have pinkeye. “Well, isn’t that special?” Not sure how I got it, but working in a daycare, it’s not really a surprise, just slightly embarrassing. Calling in this morning and telling Becca that I couldn’t come in because I have pinkeye and the doctor said no contact with kids was nearly humiliating for me to tell her. I told her to apologize to Kristi for me, as Kristi will surely die when she realizes I won’t be back to work until Wednesday. She’s probably having a heart attack right now and debating whether or not to call me. Being at home with pinkeye is not fun. First off, pinkeye is something that happens to small children, not to adults. Secondly, I feel stupid because other than the fact that my left eye is so puffy and draining all the time that I can hardly see out of it, I feel perfectly fine. Eye drops and warm compresses are GOOD. Given, it is nice to stay home on a Monday, but I get Memorial Day off, too, and it sort of defeats the purpose of it all. I don’t know where I’m going with this, really … hrm. I think I’m going to spend my day off watching Star Wars … 4-6 (because I finally broke down and saw Episode 3). But I’m debating. Darren rented some movies that I’ve been wanting to see for a while … like that anime done by the Princess Mononoke people with Uma Thurman on the cast list … I can’t remember the name, but I think it will be good. In fact … I haven’t really watched any anime for a while, so I think I just might do that now. I’ll talk about Star Wars another time. I’m pretty burned out on it. P.S. Once this pinkeye clears up, I’ll try to take some pics of myself with Darren’s digital camera … we’ll see how this turns out. I might even do a few “goth” pics … because, you know, I’m “that goth chick” at the station, according to a certain co-worker. … who was rather skittish when we saw him at the movie Saturday night. He normally talks my ear off, but lately it seems like he’s been avoiding me … odd. Mmm … Atomic Fireballs. I can still suck and devour balls faster than Brandon.

Humorous story I thought I'd share. Okay, so, today at the daycare - stressful. Very. Two kids suspended. Two more on probation ... all from the same family. Kristi and I? Freaking out. We both went to the convenience store down the street and got ourselves some cherry Icee's. I made a mad dash. As soon as the lid went on it, I sucked through the straw and sighed happily. Me: Ahhhhh ... Allah Ahkbar! Kristi: Melissa! You can't say that! Me: Why not? Kristi: You're not Muslim. Me: ... oh ... oh ... oh yeah. Uhm ... Namaste? End!

So ... On my "day off" from feeling so sick, I thought that it might do me some good to wander about the town, change of scenery from "work to house to work to house" ... you know, something different. So I went to Fantasy Limited - a comic book store that I hadn't been to in almost a year. Jeff, the owner, was rather surprised to see me. See, Shelley and I used to go there every Thursday my first three years of college, but after that, I became a rather scarce visitor due to working so much and being overloaded with classes. So I looked at what he had. He asked if I still had my obsession with Neil Gaiman ... well, of course I do. So he showed me his collection of figurines ... I soooooo want a Daniel. SO BAD! And he had this totally awesome bustof Delirium that I would have killed for, but alas, I'm poor. But then he showed me something even better - Smoke and Mirrors ... a collection of Gaiman's stories ... and viola! I was happy. Needless to say, I got that. Along with a copy of I Feel Sick which was rather pleased to find since the Hot Topic here has been sold out pretty much since its release. I haven't read it, yet. I'm going to save it for a rainy day. I noticed that it's in color, though ... which, to me, is different because I'm used to reading Jhonen's stuff in black and white. But hey! It looks pretty. It was nice to hang out with Jeff the Comic guy and talk about his various collection of Sandman stuff. I still covet his Key to Hell and Dream/Daniel bookends. Maybe someday, when I'm a big-time voice actress or author, I'll be able to afford such useless luxuries. I'm actually rather fond of aquiring books. They give me something better than materialistic value - you see, I enjoy the theatre of my mind. Which is why I have quite an extensive collection of books ... and why my own novel series will probably never be finished because I keep adding more and more ... ... and more ... and more ... and more ... and more ...

I didn't sleep very well last night. Nightmares again. It's to be expected. My nightmares aren't really scary, just mildly disturbing to the point where, if I wake up before one ends, I lie in bed, staring at the wall, or ceiling, or cat, trying to figure out what could have possibly happened next - and if I fell back asleep, would I find out? Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. That's just the way dreams go for me. I realized a long time ago that some of my dreams come from a world that hinders a continuous storyline. Last night I helped a murderer escape ... because I kind of liked him, I guess. Not sure. But the people I helped him escape from were more upset that I used their grey van to do it with. "Why did you help him?" "Duh, hello? Murderer? He would have killed me." That's the first time in a long time that I've ever blatantly lied to someone in my dreams. It made me feel dirty - I woke up before it was over, before I could get him out of the state or city or wherever it was. It left me wondering what happened. So I stared at the cat for a while. I kept asking myself why I would help him. I honestly couldn't think of a reason - and I still can't. It's strange. Usually in my dreams I do something beneficial, help someone out, pull them out of their void or grab their hand before they fall over the edge of a cliff - you know, that sort of thing ... I've never helped a killer escape ... and actually felt SYMPATHY for him. It's odd. I'm taking off from work rather early today. The lack of sleep plus the exertions of my dream have left me feeling rather lethargic. Kristi said I looked pale. Sent me home. Seems I'm always sick nowadays. Go figure. They changed the campus e-mail thing - which upsets me. I had some stuff from Conroy that I needed to read, but alas, it's all erased now due to some stupid e-mail change. Why they changed it is beyond me. Oh well. Would have been nice to have some warning. It's always nice to have warning. God, I'm exhausted ... and I haven't really done anything. I'm going to go home, sleep, and maybe write some on that novel series that will never be finished. Have a nice day. EDIT! I AM NOT JHONEN! Leave me alone already!!! Let it REST!!! Edit Part Deux Wow ... I've noticed I'm getting a lot more readers since that whole Jhonen episode. Not that I don't enjoy the comments and whatnot, but there's an option in the top left of the screen known as "User Info" - there, if you want to talk to me, you can fine my AIM and e-mail address. Please, be nice. I'm not online as much as I used to be, but I usually get around to my e-mail within 24 hours.

Current Online Conversation: Random Reader: so ur not jv? Me: No, I’m not. Just a fan, and nothing more. Random Reader: but u sound like him. read like him wen u type stuf. Me: Well then, I am flattered because he writes so intellectually. Random Reader: yeh, u gota b him. no 1 can hav a intelecual convo like u jus had wit me witout bing the reel guy Honestly ... Other than the fact that this person is a prime example of why I am losing faith in our nation's educational system - and why I blame internet slanguage for America's illiteracy and improper grammar ... Some readers just can't seem to get it through their heads that I AM NOT JHONEN VASQUEZ! I've never met him! Never spoken to him. Fuck, I've never even written him fanmail. Jesus. And for the last time. I do not have his screenname for AOL or MSN or whatever, his e-mail, his "snail" mail, his phone number, or a lock of his hair stashed away in a keepsake box. And again - I AM NOT JHONEN! And, besides, even if I was, I would deny it because I'd want people to get off my case about it ... And that, my lovely readers, is enough of that. No more of this Jhonen nonsense. On to more pressing matters ...

You are ... Jhonen Vasquez! You create all this fucked up shit. Which Jhonen Vaquez character are you? By EmReznor. Well isn't this a coincidence? Not helping in my attempt at convincing a certain onliner that I'm NOT JHONEN! Thanks a lot, quietseth ... you and your stupid quiz addiction.

"I thought what I'd do is that I'd become one of those deaf-mutes ..." It makes me feel dirty, sometimes, to take on a different persona from myself just to deal with a situation and make someone feel better or clarify a situation. But I wish that people would listen to me as I am, me, Melissa, you know? Rather than me have to take the role of someone I'm not ... ... some readers out there will know what I'm talking about. The rest of you, don't worry. I'm just rambling ... ONWARD! A word about Messier Jhonen Vasquez ... Actually several words ... several hundred, really ... There are people out there IMing me, asking me if I know him and whatnot. Where they get this information is beyond me, I haven't a clue. I don't think I've even been to the West Coast since the sixth grade. (Ah, yes, and I remember that well. That was the week I got my period. Oh, the memories of a pre-middle school road trip ... but MOVING ON!) No, I don't know him. I honestly haven't the faintest idea why people think I know him. I mean, yes, my name is Melissa and I am a DJ/Voice Actress - and that a Melissa did the voice of Gaz on Invader Zim, yes, I can see the "connection," but come on, people. Although I am all for truth - and sometimes I do grin when I receive a slight bit of satisfaction from bursting someone's bubble upon realizing that I'm not who they think I am - I do detest when others start accusing me of being a poser or an obsessed fan just because I have a few pictures of someone or his/her work lying around. I happen to be very fond of Vasquez's work. I also have an original Ana Chalkley hanging on my wall, a door covered with Kaori Yuki art, as well as several Edvard Munch prints ... now, if there's an artist I want to be associated with being obsessed over, it would be Edvard Munch. Mmmm ... Red Madonna. I also own the entire collection of the Chronicles of Narnia ... and every piece of Lewis Carroll literature known to man. That doesn't mean I'm going to resurrect these guys just so I can worship the ground they walk on. *shifty eyes; hides her copy of the Necronomicon* What brought on this little talk, you ask? I recently got into a conversation online with a reader of my journal, and he started out associating me with Melissa Fahn (voice of Gaz), which when he realized I wasn't her, decided to accuse me of being one of those obsessed fanatics, and yet somehow shifted the conversation into saying that I "talk like him" so I must be covering up some sort of close relationship with the guy ... Oh ... Jesus fucking Christ on a goat-shaped anal swizzle stick ... First off: NO! I am not in a relationship with Jhonen Vasquez. I've never met him - and I'm fairly sure that if I did, and I had been in a relationship with him, I would remember it ... and have nightmares ... ... but in a good way, I'm sure. Sometimes nightmares are good. I always go lucid in nightmares ... which is the fun part, because then I can make them not be nightmares anymore. I do some of my best work while sleeping. Secondly, I think Mr. Vasquez would be slightly offended in discovering that someone out there thought I "talked like him." Other than the fact that some stranger claims to know how Jhonen talks as though he knew the guy personally and yet still didn't "know" for sure if I had a "relationship" with the guy - other than that ... Okay, I admit, I've listened to the commentaries on the Zim DVD's (my brother owns them, and the commentaries are the best parts) - but, uhm, I'm pretty sure I don't sound like that. Besides, he's far more articulate and intelligent-sounding than I ... and a guy. Though Richard Horvitz is a guy, too, and I have my "Zim" moments where the kids at work are all like "Do the Zim voice" ... But Richard doesn't count ... because he's Richard. I hope to someday meet the voice cast; that would be awesome. And Tress MacNeille ... yeah, she's cooooooooooooooooooooool. **For those who don’t know, Tress is the voice of Babs Bunny/Dot Warner/Fang from Dave the Barbarian and various others.** I'd love to work for the Ocean Group someday doing English dubs for anime - that would be fucking awesome. And sure, I'd like to meet Jhonen as well ... but there's a hell of a lot of people I'd love to meet. And lastly, if I wanted to be associated as having a relationship with any celebrity (living), I am pretty sure that I would choose Daniel Johns of Silverchair - and anyone who really knows me would attest to that. ( I have a ... thing ... and have had this thing for Daniel since "Tomorrow" was released.) Oh, and as an afterthought - 'Nny fans that have been IMing me always ask this question - so I'm going to answer it here so you will all stop asking. "If Johnny was real, would you be his friend?" Hm - good question. Friend? I think it to be quite impossible unless I was a dead rodent nailed to a wall. I'm actually a rather shy person, and unless the figure happens to be a small child or an elderly person, I will undoubtedly not speak first ... unless they are doing something that warrants some sort of comment - i.e. "Nice puppet" and so on and so forth. However, circumstances permitting, I probably would talk to the guy - kind of be like the Devi striking up conversation in the bookstore or whatever, but I doubt we'd become close enough to be considered anything more than acquaintances. Besides, I've been told on countless occasions that when people talk to me, they in general feel better ... So Johnny would probably kill me once he realized he was feeling a little happy and decided to immortalize the moment ... ... don’t know what I'm talking about? Go read. Reading is good for you. T.V. is bad ... *turns back to the television screen to watch another gripping episode of Looney Tunes* P.S. The rabbit that lives in the shrubs at the Fine Arts Center on campus - yeah, well she had her babies ... now there's baby bunnies curling up in this hole-looking thing in the middle of the lawn ... ... and it's starting to rain ... supposed to have severe thunderstorms all weekend. Poor things will drown. I'd move them, me being the compassionate person that I am, but I'm afraid the mother bunny won't find them ... or that she'll eat them because they smell like human. ... so I'll just keep telling myself that she'll move them herself when it starts to rain ... Oh ... the poor bunnies ... P.P.S. Thanks a lot to quietseth for posting a rather interestingly amusing picture of Jhonen in his journal. I like puppets ... ***** P.P.S!!!!!! NO! I'm not Jhonen! Stop asking and assuming!!! You're crazy. I'm obviously female ... but then, I could be male and just using a picture of some chick. OR I could be an ALIEN!!! Who knows?! This is the internet!*points to the "Photos" entry*