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So.

Today is a bad day.

Today is a day where I will spend more time crying and generally losing my mind than I will spend time breathing or thinking about Jensen Ackles.

Yes, that bad.

Anyway. One of my previous therapists, who was a lovely woman whose office was tucked into the back corner of my local hospital gave me the magical advice to write down how I was feeling on my bad days.

This instruction was a little bit like flossing. Go with me on this one.

You go to the dentist. The dentist asks how often you floss. You lie and say once or twice daily when the reality is the only floss your teeth sees is in the form of the occasional toothpick after a steak. He examines your teeth, and finds a little work needs to be done. You get your filling, and go on your merry way. For the next two weeks, you floss like it's the only thing keeping all your teeth from spontaneously falling out of your head. Then, as the sound of the screeching drill leaves your psyche, you go back to your old flossing ways. Then your annual dentist appointment rolls around, and the whole cycle starts over again.

What was I saying?

Right. Writing down feelings.

Well, it worked for a while. I'd write every day for a week, and then it was suddenly three weeks later and I'd have no idea where my notebook was. I would also have another appointment, where I'd have to present my notebook for apprasial. I'd apologize, and promise that it'd be done by next session. And the whole cycle started over again.

Back to my point. It's been a bad day. I didn't sleep well last night, even thought I took enough medication to fell a small horse. That's never a good sign in itself. Lo and behold, I wake up this morning already ensconced in a panic attack. Anxiety disorders are no fun, fer serius.

So, I'm being treated to a day of constant fear, and no appetite. I suppose that's not so bad, everything is closed today anyway.

I write this all down in hopes that I can help someone, like that one random person who'll google "panic attacks" and see a post of mine, and click on it on a whim.

To you random person, are you struggling? I sure as hell am.

But there is one thing I know for absolutely certain. This does get better. There are better days, better years.

Some nights you'll experience what I experienced last night. Last night I laid down, pulled my covers up and immediately became overwhelmed at the thought of how I was going to get through the next day.

I won't lie to you, random stranger, or anyone. I have taken those long glances at that bottle of pills and thought about how good it would be to take a nice long nap. I took those glances two years ago, and I took one of those glances today.

But there is one thing that I need to remember, and you the random stranger needs to remember. It gets better. You can win. In that moment of overwhelming fear and helplessness, you can take a baseball bat to your thoughts and rise above them. It's possible, trust me. It's not easy, but it's possible. I don't say this because I have mastered the art of stomping down fear, I say it because I haven't.

Trust me, this can get better. Tomorrow can be a better day, and you don't have to hope for it. You can take your fear and bitchslap it. You can even add in your best gangstur voice, "Bitch, you weak. Next time, I rip out tha nasty ass weave a' yours."

In all fairness, I did forwarn you that I'm a little crazy.

Now, on another note, I bought Linkin Park's new CD on a whim titled "Giftcard for iTunes but nothing to buy... oooh look a shiny".

And call me crazy, but I really, really like it.



Here's one of the songs, plus it's live. It's awesome. Like, party in your pants awesome. You should really click play.

Love,
Megan

Quick Note

So, I may or may not have mentioned my obsessive love of music. If I haven't, I have now.

This is beauty, and I'm not traditionally a big dubstep fan. Anyway, here we are.

Beauty, amirite?

Oh My Chuck

So. It's January 1st. Pretty important day.

No, not just because I'll be legally able to gamble by the end of the month, though that's pretty awesome.

It's because today is the day where everyone whose brain isn't in an mooshy state known as a "hangover" does something special. So special, that once it's acknowledged, it's never mentioned or thought of again. It's called RESOLUTIONS.

Now that 2011 has crashed the party, it's officially the time to get that paper out and write down your ambitions for the year, only to hide it in a spot so magical that you can never find it again. We humans are funny creatures, really.

Anyway, one of my ambitions/resolutions is to blog at least once a week. I do this not to get rich, though that would be pretty cool. I do this because I feel the inescapable urge to leave a mark somewhere in the world wide web. And, to possibly get rich.

H8ters gon h8.

Anyway. I should probably introduce myself, because any post below this was written by a person who is not me. Except if you go back in time, and then it is me. The me that types these words is almost an entirely different person than the one that wrote those. I mean, that person hadn't even figured out her secret love of slam poetry. Pshaw.

So. My name is Megan, and I'm nearly legal gambling age. Figure that one out at your leisure. I read more books than is probably healthy, and I like to write stories in extensively overpriced journals called Moleskines. I don't have a job, live with my mom, and play a lot of video games.

That last part would be a lot worse if I were male, 30 years older, and 300 pounds heavier, amirite?

If you take a little glance to the left, there is a playlist for your convenience. It contains a few of the many songs that reside on my iPod. Whenever people utter that lovely sentiment to me, "You like weird music," I always give them the same shake of my head and denial. Upon rounding up that playlist, I think from now on I'll agree.

So. What do we know so far, class? Megan, girl, 18, weird music, stories, books. Sounds about right.

I also have what's referred to in some medical circles as "Generalized anxiety disorder", which means I have these things called "panic attacks". I say this, because I'm sure it will come up in the future, so I want to have that part of my insanity explained beforehand. This, combined with an overactive imagination makes me someone who is just a little nuts, but who has badass dreams. Like, I wish I could record my dreams. I would kick Avatar's little blue ass with the stuff my grey matter comes up with.

I also like this T.V show called Supernatural, and may have on occasion thought to myself that I could be okay with polygamy, if I could marry Jensen Ackles. Again, I mention this to forewarn anyone for future posts. Oh, and just saying, Chuck is God. That is all.

So. That's okay as far an introductions go, yes? No? Screw you imaginary audience, I'm not a part of your system.

No, I didn't take that from an SNL skit, and I'm offended you asked.

On the plus side, I googled Tuna Fey instead of Tina Fey today. Didn't get the results I was looking for.

Love,
Megan

What New York Used To Be

Well, it certainly has been a while, Internet. :]

Anyway. Life is back in full swing, now that the summer is over. Grade 11 is good, specifically my math class. My teacher literally used the words, "I don't want to do any math today. Talk amongst yourselves."
AWESOME. Fer serious.

Oh, watched A Hard Day's Night on Saturday. John Lennon in a tub full of bubbles? Made my life. xD

Oh, also. Some mildly good news. I won first place in a short story contest here in my hometown. No biggie, right?

WRONG. CUE BRAIN EXPLOSION X INFINITY. :D

Okay. I'm calm. It's okay. :P

Oh, right. Go listen to "Cobrastyle" by Robyn, and "What New York Used To Be" by the Kills. Just do it. :P

-Megan

The dusty rose one was better.

TWO posts in ONE day? OH the HUMANITY! It's like I have no life!

Oh wait...

Anyway. Moving on. Today's topic, kiddies, is music. I have a weird emotional attachment to my iPod. I wish I could say that I'm kidding, but I'm not. The theft of said iPod was one of the most traumatic events of my young life. Karma smiled on me and through amazing events, it was returned to me, and I will be forever grateful. 4GBs of music is the cheapest form of therapy pour moi.

An example? You want an example of the therapeutic assets of music? Well, fine. If you want.

Okay, so I was at a camp type event a few months ago, surrounded by lots of people all the time and surviving on very little sleep. My free time was spent in a noisy cabin, again, full of lots of people. Now, don't get me wrong, except for a very small time, I had an awesome time at the event, but I digress. So, a very tired, very frustrated me has an unexpected hour to herself. I had a five minute trail that would lead straight to my cabin, but on this occasion, I opted to take the 30 minute trail.

I spent it walking at a slow pace, listening to music after a day and a half of no music. It was so cleansing, so refreshing to have some time to think and be by myself for a while, it was startling. I got back to my cabin feeling a hundred times better than when I left the conference hall. I was listening to a variety of music, but a few songs I remember specifically are "The Boogie That Be", "Anxiety" and "The APL Song", all by the Black Eyed Peas.

Anyway. That was just a long winded way to justify sharing my taste in music to the world wide web. Some songs that I've been listening to a lot:
Into the West - Annie Lennox (Shut up. I know it's a Lord Of The Rings song)
Don't Forget - Demi Levato (I know, I know. EwwwWWwwWW! Demi LEVATO Megan? REALLY? Well, really. There's actual merit to this song. Who knew?)
Gonna Get Through This - David Bedingfield (I literally two seconds ago heard this song and it was all "I used to frickin' LOVE this song!" Nostalgiaaaa.)
Say It - Blue October (Youtube it.)
Picking Up The Pieces - Blue October (Ditto.)
My Never - Blue October (This song makes me cry into my oatmeal.)
Stuck on You - Paramore (Oh Paramore. How I delight in thee.)
Give Peace a Chance - John Lennon (Because I'm a hippie. No, really.)
Dare You To Move - Switchfoot (4 words. A Walk To Remember. I need not say any more.)
Eyes on Fire - Blue Foundation (A creepy song that is perfect for dramatic moments spent walking down empty hallways. No, really. Try it.)
Esli V Serdce Zhivet Lyubov - Yulia Savicheva (An awesome Russian song. From the translated lyrics I've read, also not a bad message to it either. Good on 'ye Russia.)
Life - Yui Horie (A Japanese song this time, and as good as, or better than any English song you can throw out there. Give foreign songs a chance, people.)

Okay. I'll shut up now. :]

Love,
Megan

Tangerine temptation.

Did the title give you the wrong idea? Did it produce images of oranges bouncing along, all filled with citrus goodness and vitamin C?

Well, sorry. All you have is more verbal genius from yours truly.

Lately, I've been doing a bit of self-discovery. I'm in high school, so self discovery is practically part of the curriculum. We're expected to "find out who we are". Well, after a lovely grade 9 year spent blending into walls, I've been making up for lost time. Don't worry, I won't be delving into traumatic childhood memories, or writing any poetry.

I've realized that for me, nothing is concrete. My moods are so mercurial that sometimes it even takes me by surprise. My taste in clothes has flipped again. Just when I thought it was safe to go shopping, my fashion sense is changing again. Grade 8 was spent in skirts over jeans, band tee shirts, fingerless gloves, pink hair, and sneakers. Now, it's black on black, heels, short hair, and scarves. Tomorrow, god knows. Maybe I'll wear a skirt. (Cue collective gasps and fainting)

My views have changed wildly in the past year. Mention abortion and blood vessels start to pop in my head. Mention kids and I may get violent. I just found an old diary of mine, from when I was 12. At that point, I wanted to be a stay at home mom with two kids named Vienna Catherine and Derek Matthew. Now, I think I'm destined for a child-less life spent travelling and writing.

I'm also getting more and more detached from my generation. I just don't get it. What is the appeal of the "emo" aesthetic, and wearing your pants down by your ankles?

Now, I sound like a cantankerous old lady. Or my mother, if there's any difference between the two.

Oh, and on a special note, I just wanted to thank you, my very special father, for your ever vigilant inspecting of my spelling and grammar. Thank you for insuring that my treatment of the English language is gentle. Yeah. Y'know what? IRREGARDLIS. A fictitious word spelt WRONG.

And that's another right hook and KO'd opponent.

On the plus side, it's not supposed to rain today, and Angels and Demons is due to come out this month. With the plus side, I'm gone like last weeks meatloaf.

Love,
Megan

She made an illegal pass at Tony Stewart...

Bonjour. There's a french salutation to your french slop.

Sorry. Had to start things out the nerdy way. Thank you, Shakespeare, for corrupting me years and years after you're dead. Yeah, y'all know I'm gonna run off and watch Romeo and Juliet after I'm done here.

Anyway. That's beside the point. Today, I have but one confession.

I am a Lord of the Rings nerd.

Make your judgements. Envision me in elf ears and a long cloak. Are we done?

Good. So, anyway. I've pretty much been watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy non-stop for about the last... gee, I dunno.... MONTH. Yah, srsly. But, there's one aspect of it that really gets me. This is a spoiler, so if you still haven't (somehow) seen/heard of the ending of Return of the Ring, don't read until the next paragraph. Okay, so, at the end of the movie, Bilbo, Gandalf, and Frodo go on the last ship out of Middle Earth. Basically, they're going to "heaven". This strikes me on a very weird emotional level, and I don't know why. Maybe it's Sam (Sean Astin)'s acting when Frodo is saying goodbye, maybe it's the christian in me being goopy over heaven, but whatever it is, I don't like it. I don't like watching it now, even though it's a great scene. I don't like the song that plays in the credits, because it's all about the ship leaving. It just makes me really, really sad. Is this a nerd thing? This isn't making any sense. Let me try and explain myself. There's something about everyone knowing that the characters are basically going off to die. They'll be in a place where no living person can reach them, but they're still alive on the trip to that place. Maybe it's the knowledge of death that really depresses me. They're all staring death in the face, but in a subtle kind of way. I dunno. I'm not making sense, even to myself now.

On a way funnier note, I actually dreamt this weird dream where Sam (Please, stop laughing. It's my subconscious talking.) was like, waiting to let himself die. He was basically trudging along, waiting until Frodo could accept the fact that Sam needed to let go. In the dream, I was Frodo, but I wasn't really. Then, I/Frodo accepted Sam's death, and then Sam started to die. Well, my conscious mind rejected the dream so much that while watching Sam die, I actually woke myself up because my conscious mind disliked the image so much. Personally, I think this is my subconscious mind telling me there's something I need to let myself accept, but I keep holding on to it, and it just translated that to Lord of the Rings. Weird, I know. My family is thinking about kicking me out of the house to regain normalcy. Yes, I'm kidding.

I realized something else. I over think EVERYTHING. EVVVVVERRRYYYTTHHINNNGGG.
So, for the past two days, I've been putting a comfy chair out on the balcony and sitting there for at least ten minutes. But for that ten minutes, I just let my mind drift and people watch.

Seriously people, whatever you do, take some time to people watch. Watch the interactions, watch the whole action/reaction balance. It's seriously the most interesting thing I've done in a while. I do it all the time at school, so I'm pretty sure that there is a large number of people that think I'm insane. Like, "Why is she always looking at people?!"

Because of people watching at school, I've realized that we're taking ourselves WAY to seriously. Like, who really cares if Karen wore the same shirt as you? Be thankful you have a shirt. I've been feeling way detached from my generation lately. I overhear these conversations and just get sorta confused. Don't get me wrong, I'm as much a ditz as anyone else, but some days it just gets so TIRING. Like, shut up people. Stop whining. Do you really care that much that Karen wore the same shirt as you? Is it that much of an earth shattering event that you need to scream about it in public hallways and then trash her on public web sites?

Speaking of trashing people, I remember someone called me a slut and a whore in an argument before, and I literally laughed in her face. I'm the farthest thing from a whore. I spend my summers as covered up as physically possible. I've been single since birth. I haven't ever even done drugs, like fer reel. It was hilarious to me that she couldn't come up with anything better than, "SLUT!!"

It's like, oh, sluts have no interaction "like that" with males, or even clothes that expose their knees these days?! Where have I BEEN?!

Anyway. I didn't mean to spew a bunch of ranting. I meant to laugh at myself and my silly love for Lord of the Rings and fetish for Elijah Wood's eyes. (No, not a real fetish, thankyouverymuch. They are damn pretty though). On a lighter note, did you know that in Cleveland, Ohio it is illegal to catch mice without a hunting license? Wouldn't that SUCK?

Did you know the dot over the letter 'i' is called a tittle? Am I immature enough that the sentence, "You forgot the tittle!" makes me giggle? The answer, is yes. Yes I am.

On the plus-plus side, I may be going to a Blue October concert. Can we say fun? Yes, yes we can. Now, my mission to you. Go to Itunes, and buy the Blue October songs titled, "Picking Up The Pieces, and Jump Rope". Don't question me, just do it. :]

Love,
Megan