This is me... now.
Friday, Jan. 30, 2004 at 2:53 PM
Writing. There goes that odd girl again, she�s writing, always writing.
So here I go again.
I�m so passionate about it. It�s almost as though my life force is my writing. I breathe in and take in everything: a smile, a fight, a word or two spoken, a kiss. All those events swirl around inside my head- a massive untidy heap of my life in its entirety. Yet when I breathe out (put it in writing), there it is. In perfect working order, my life makes sense.
When I was young, from the time I was 8, I kept a journal. In chronological order, my life, in all it�s glory and splendor. I wrote of horror, of hatred, of loss and pain. I wrote of dashed hopes and forgotten dreams and wanted love. I kept notes on guys I liked or dated. Of times I wanted to eradicate my aunt. I wrote poems for my mom, about my mom. I wrote silly songs and funny short stories. I released myself from the pain and anguish I felt. The hatred that boar into me from the eyes of the one person I always wanted to just love me, accept me, like me. (My aunt)
I wrote of death, of suicide, of rapture. I wrote of being saved and taken far from the hell I lived. I wrote of self-loathing.
As I grew older, I wrote of fears, of being broke, of being free. I wrote of redemption, of faith and of love of myself. I wrote of parties and school and boyfriends.
I wrote of hope again. Yet this time, I wrote of hope I was unafraid and joyful to have. For once in my life, I wrote of dreams. I dared to feel the adrenaline rush that comes from getting your hopes up.
There was a time in my life where I was afraid to smile. Now, I love myself. I love my �ugly� feet. I love my �annoying� laugh. I love my scatterbrain. I love me.
And I write. I write about me. I write about my life and my happiness. I am honest with myself. I can finally look in the proverbial mirror and smile.
Who am I?
Hi, I�m Melissa. Everyone calls me Missie or Miss. Some people call me M or Lis.
I am 5�1 �� and 128 pounds. I have brown hair and brown eyes and although my hair isn�t always it�s natural color, my eyes are. I have my mom�s hair and her eyes. I have my dad�s nose and his attitude. I have my mom�s gentle, mothering nature and my dad�s passion for learning. My mom died when I was 8. My dad is in prison. When I say that, people think it�s something dramatic, like my dad killed my mom and is now paying for it. It�s not that. My mom went quietly into the good night. She had colon cancer. My dad, when I was a senior in high school, robbed two different liquor stores, and took off to St. Louis. Because my dad is a felon, doesn�t mean that I am. It doesn�t mean that I am a bad person. I thought that it did for a long time. My dad has never really been in my life. Still, to this day, the only contact we have is a weekly collect call from Waupun Correctional Facility, which is a maximum-security prison. We are close, but we do not talk about our past.
Who else am I?
I work, 9-5, Monday thru Friday. I am a sales consultant for a corrugated machinery supplier. I love my job.
Am I what I do? During the week, I hang out with my friends. Kate and I go for about one ride a week. We run errands together. I see Tom quiet a bit during the week now that we are hanging out. On random nights, Jeff, Mary and Josh come over and we make food or watch Jeff practice my aerobic striptease DVDs. Wednesdays, I usually go to band practice for Penguins With Shotguns. I see my Marisa and visit Ben at work on weeknights. On weekends, I go out to the bars with Bryan. Or I meet up with Mark and friends at Peg N Lou�s. There is always something going on and I�m always doing something. During the week, when I�m not with friends, I�m at home. Always, when I get home from work, I spend an hour or two with my grandma. We make and eat dinner together and then watch TV for about an hour. My grandma is my guardian angel.
I�m loud, yet quiet when in thought. I�m opinionated and quirky. I�m energetic and goofy. I love to laugh and am usually doing something weird that gets me laughed at. I can laugh at myself. I read, a lot. I read every night before I go to bed. I have more patience now than I ever have. Recently, at dinner with Gabe, he told me that I am new person now. I am mature and centered. I am solid and steady. I know who I am. I am confident, sometimes too confident. I trip over cracks in the sidewalk. I have a tendency to fall asleep anywhere, anytime. I fell asleep for 5 hours right in the middle of a huge party 2 months ago. I bite the inside of my lip a lot. It�s how you can tell I�m thinking about something. I actually have a groove there from doing it so much.
I am thoughtful. I love to make dinner for people or bring them soup when they are sick. I send people postcards and letters out of the blue to say �hi�. I like doing things like that.
Many times, I�ll do something, and the only response I get is �*laugh* that is SUCH a Missie thing to do�. I made all my friends scarves one year.
I�m a die-hard NASCAR fan. I like football and rugby. I watch Fox News and I vote every year. I like to fish, but I won�t hunt. I like to walk in Pets Park in the fall.
I drive a 2003 Greystone Metallic colored Pontiac Grand Am. I love that car. My car has a Dale Earnhardt sticker on it. It also has a Q101 cling on it.
I wear Gap and American Eagle. I wear thongs. I have 2 tattoos and 6 piercings. (3 in each ear) I only wear one earring- in my cartilage. My tattoos are on my lower back and my hip.
This is me.
I�ll never stop writing.