you're made of my rib or baby
you're made of my sin
and i can't tell where
your lust ends
and where your love begins

i didn't want to hurt you baby
i didn't want to hurt you
i didn't want to hurt you
but you're pretty when you cry

and the moon gives me
permission and i enter
through her eyes
she's losing her virginity and
all her will to compromise

i didn't want to hurt you baby
i didn't want to hurt you
i didn't want to hurt you
but you're pretty when you cry

i didn't want to fuck you baby
i didn't want to fuck you
i didn't want to fuck you
but you're pretty
when you're mine

i didn't really love you baby
i didn't really love you
i didn't really love you
but I'm pretty when i lie

you hurt me baby
i hurt you baby

if you knew how much i love you
you would run away
but when i treat you bad
it always makes you want to stay

i didn't want to hurt you baby


Every word in this song could have been straight from his lips. He knew the nature of our relationship just as acutely as I did.

Fuck.

Detroit is dying, and our ignorance is permitting it to happen.
Michigan is dying, and our ignorance is permitting it to happen.

It's easy to say "it's not my city, it's not my state." but it will be.

Just wait.

You have been warned.

Also, let's not beat around the bush. I'm stressed. Fucking stressed as hell about things I cannot control. Over money and applying to school and working and applying for unemployment. I want to run away from all this. Well, I don't want to run away from applying to school. I want to go to school, the destination I'm running *to* in a misguided attempt to take a break from the real world, and as a convenient means to get me closer to my friends and closer to a man whom I worry (big surprise) won't want me when I get there.


I have a funny way about talking about my personal life here. I really don't. It's an odd mixture of exposition of things that really don't need to be said mixed with a lot of cryptic hinting at the mess I've most recently got myself into. You would be that way too, if you lived the first 18 years of your life in an elaborate fantasy. I'm somehow still afraid of getting in trouble, whatever that constitutes, for admitting that I have feelings.

But, it's becoming obvious to me that I am just working myself into worse and worse knots, like the yarn that I sometimes spend days working into a usable form. Instead of helping, all my futile tugging and wrenching is just making things worse.

Money is the biggest thing. Money to live, much less to move to an even bigger city with even higher rent, to go to a school that costs fifty grand per SEMESTER, is extraordinarily hard to come by. Once I started digging myself into a hole, it was already too late for me. And, to be fair, it wasn't even a damn hole. Two dolls is not a hole, it's a boot-scuff, and I am so fucked that I can't even crawl out of that. My job, coupled with my commitment to the theatre leaves me with little time or energy to devote to anything, so I tend to get takeout far more often than I cook. When I do eat at home, it's crap from a can, or ramen. Which just leaves me craving something I can't even put my finger on, except to quantify it under the umbrella of "nutrition."

I'm going to need to file for unemployment for the month of December, and reading about the process is just stressing me to the point of tears. It's not terribly difficult looking, but it's so convoluted, and I almost just want to let the government keep their damn money.

And then there's school. I've been working on trying to get some scholarships, and I have to wait til the first of the year to do my FAFSA... I need to finish my application, and do all sorts of other good things for that. That's actually the least of my worries. Somehow, I'll figure it out. Somehow, I'll make it work.

But then... then there's the whole "I'll be in New York City with no money and..." who knows if everyone will really stick around in the City for awhile. Will they? Or will they finish grad school and jet off again, this time leaving me on the east coast and mired in school.

AND there's Dan. Who is, by all concerns, probably the smartest decision I've ever tried to make. He's not an arrogant asshole, for one. But too many of those make you gun-shy, and I'm constantly, morbidly afraid of reliving the conversation I had with Mike Moody not nine months ago that can be summed up with this:
"I'm moving to Chicago in a month"
"Great! I've got a girlfriend!"

I, dear friends, am replaceable. Aren't we all? But it seems a constant point in my life to remind me that I am not the unique snowflake I've always thought I was, subtle and mysterious. But instead, I'm one of a million like me. Female. In the span of three months I was utterly replaced by not one but two boys who had both, not weeks before, been professing their devotion to me in that way that makes any girl melt. One, perhaps, was a deserved rejection, and one that needed to happen. But the other was cruel, calculated, a cowards response to my sudden zeal to do for me.


What the hell happened to doing for me? What do I want? What, dear friends, does Megan really want?

She wants to stop fucking worrying so much. There has to be a button somewhere that turns it all off.
She wants to be financially independent, without having to break her damn back to do it. Whatever happened to the American Dream?
She wants to feel wanted, needed, and not just an object of blatant sexual desire, wonderful though she is at playing that part.
And a very tiny part of her wants to go crawling back home, conceeding defeat, to a life that is somewhat easier, but drowning in shame.


Why didn't I hold on to those days with Mallory in Newberry just a little tighter? When did my straight path turn into this eight-lane interchange looming before me?

So... I was referred to this site called Lockerz by a friend of mine. Basically, it's a site where you can get pretty nifty prizes without having to pay for them. You log into the site, answer their question of the day, and they give you points that you can then redeem for stuff like iPods, Guitar Hero games, even laptops. (No joke, there's even a SCOOTER. Like, a Vespa-type scooter) In addition, you can also choose to redeem your points for charitable donations.

I know that it sounds a little crazy at first, but it works on a similar principle to Gaia Online. (Except with real prizes instead of pixels) I won't lie, it's not instant gratification, it will take awhile to save up for some of these items. But it's still easier than setting real money aside. Plus, I've heard that they're very reliable/quick about shipping out your goodies once you redeem your points.

Also, I did actually look into this a bit before I signed up. It's legit. Lockerz is funded by Liberty Media, one of the largest media companies in the US. The Chief Executive Officer of Lockerz is Kathy Savitt, a former executive at Amazon.com and American Eagle Outfitters. Later this year, they plan to open Lockerz to the public and make it an Amazon-esque webstore. They will keep the Pointz/Prize incentives as a sort of loyalty/reward system. Right now, though, the prizes cost fewer pointz. Once the site leaves this invite-only stage, the pointz prices will jump up. So now is the time!

So... if, after all that, you're interested in joining, leave me a comment, or just drop me an email. (I'll need your email address)
(A, because I'm a greedy-pants, and inviting you helps me out. but B, because the site is still in its beta phase, and requires an invite to sign up)

So... it seems that no matter where life takes me, no matter how big the city or wide the sky, I will still be Detroit's little girl at heart.  There's something about being born within sight of it's borders that imbues your blood with an ache that won't cease.  A sadness for the long and painful death of something that was once so magnificent. 

I listen to The Go, the early White Stripes, and I hear it.  I see an American-made car on the street and I feel it. 

It's a long, torturous death sentence, and the people of America are just looking on and allowing it to happen.  Detroit may as well be Nicaragua to the people of the rest of the United States, viewed as "not our problem."  Too far away and isolated.  A damn third world country.  But we need you.  We need your love.  


They say the American auto industry is a dinosaur, and it can die for all they care.  But it's not just Detroit and the auto workers that go under.  The parts suppliers, the manufacturers, everyone suffers, and everyone is affected. 

What the hell happened to the pride of "Made in America"?  When did we start viewing our own products as substandard? 


Let me tell you something.  I was at the hospital a few months ago, and when I was signing in, the receptionist asked me where my dad worked (I'm still on his insurance)  and I said he worked for the UAW.  She didn't know what that was.  I told her "The United Auto Workers Union"  and she still looked at me like I was on the moon.  Who the fuck doesn't know what the UAW is?  Am I really THAT foreign here?  I grew up in a house, in a city where the UAW was a daily word, discussed over the dinner table.  Love it or malign it, surely you should know what The Union is.  



And all those people that tell you that unions are destroying the American economy are jealous of what they can do for you.  If you were in one, you'd still have a job and decent wages and not have to break your neck for it too. 


That's a page from the Bible if I ever heard one.  The end.

I have been simply too busy to update my LJ in just about a lifetime. 

I've been working 30-40 (and sometimes plus) hours a week, and I'm running rehearsals beyond that.  AND I'm still managing to carve out time to work with my burlesque company.  The end result is me being simply too exhausted to do much of anything else.  

Saturdays have become devoted to me taking stupidly long walks.  Seriously.  I walked 12 miles two weeks ago.  from my house to Lake Michigan and back.  I think that might become my weekly trip.  And I'm totally planning on continuing until it is so cold I physically cannot do it anymore. 

Also, our dryer is broken here.  Which means all my clothes smell funny from sitting in a wet heap on my floor for weeks.  It's stupid, and I just want fluffy, warm, dryer-fresh towels and socks.  Boo hiss.


However, on the TOTALLY AWESOME news front, I am applying to Parsons, The New School,  (Yes, as in Project Runway) for a degree in Photography.  I am getting kind of tired of my life, such that it is, and am increasingly antsy to be back with the Urban Family.  I know that, logically, I can't just be with all of them forever, but I like my idyllic fantasy of all of us kind of sticking in this nebulous group for a few years.  And I'll do just about anything at this juncture to make it happen. 

In all seriousness though, PARSONS.  Part of me is totally excited.  Part of me is terrified they'll reject me and tell me I have no talent.  I'm suddenly excited by the prospect of going back to school, only this time with a focus, and somewhat of a goal.  I do like photography, and I'd like to become better at it, hopefully learn to support myself somewhere in the field, while still working in the theatre that I love.  
I'm looking at the whole thing with these stupid rose-colored glasses, trying to ignore the 50k PER SEMESTER price tag, and the reality that I probably won't feel differently about college the second time around.  

...but maybe I will.  I mean, I'm nowhere near the same person I was when I was skipping my psych classes to go to lunch with Derrick.  I'm not... I've gotten older.  I had the first college experience to learn a lot about myself and who I am.  And I've had this year by myself in Chicago to do the same.  This time around, I want to go to college to learn, to use the expensive cameras I'll never afford, to give myself the opportunity to be in a darkroom again.  Not to get out of my house and away from my family.  

My first time through was all about growing up, catching up to my peers.  Maybe I still haven't, I don't know.  I spent the first years bogged down with baggage from the distant past.  The last years wallowing in the shadow of Mike Moody, of things I couldn't change.    I will live in that shadow for the rest of my life, but like the sun, ascending and retreating, stretching the shadows and hiding them away, I can choose whether I want it to overwhelm me, or just color the path behind. 

I'm looking at giving myself another chance with academia.  Maybe a change of scenery will be what I needed.  Maybe Alma really was poison in the end.  

Part of me does wonder though, if I'm just grasping for something I'll never have again.  Those early days in Alma.  Sitting with Mallory in the darkened dorms, laughing hysterically at something of our own design.  Living simply, without worries about money or grades or boys or jobs or even the next day.  Everything was surmountable with enough work.  I know that feeling will never come again, that it's gone with my childhood.  I don't even know where I would live, if I did get accepted.  campus housing would be easiest, but honestly.  I'll be 24 by the time I get there.  Would I really be able to *stand* living with the 18 year old girl whose turn it is to discover herself?  


All this musing.  There is so much I could say.  So much I want to say, but I want to bite it off here before I really start rambling.  Too many questions, and I haven't even compiled my portfolio yet. 

I'm your biggest fan,

I'll follow you until you love me...




Seems to be a continuing theme of my life.

http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/french

This is how I spent my entire first year of college.
I miss those times. They were good.


Well, that video, writing absurd fanfictions with Mallory, and running around the dorm lobby with brooms shooting Replicators.


Don't ask why I've suddenly got so nostalgic, but... I really have.

When it rains, it pours.

I just saw a flair on facebook that simply read "Sarah Palin, Glenn Beck, 2012".

Does anyone else feel like that's the 20th century equivalent of saying "Hitler would make a great President"?

I really don't understand how anyone believes that electing someone who only believes in rights for upper-class, straight Christians would help anyone? I'm sorry, but we live in an integrated society. We have to accommodate everyone. I'm sorry you don't like it. And also, I'm sorry that you believe that some God told you that we're here to dominate all other species. Other things live here too, and since we don't believe in eating other people, then I apologize, but you can't just keep on killing and forcing our wildlife into smaller and smaller spaces.

Fuck. Why is it that half the American population is missing the part of their brain that regulates rational thought? Or any fucking thought at all.

You know what? Hitler *would* make a great president... At least he would get the economy working again. A lot more effectively than an airhead bimbo and a television personality would.


Done. I. Am. Done.

I just ate an entire meal comprised of Lebanese food and only when I was finished did I realize that I wasn't thinking about Mike Moody at any point during the evening.


...I guess time really does heal all wounds.

Oh, Project Runway, how you confound us with your challenges.

This week's challenge was a pretty unique one. In this second week, I've begun to see some designers that are my personal favorites. Irina and Louise are my favorites by far. I want to see more of them as the show progresses, because the tantalizing hints of their designs just aren't enough for me. Also, Shirin, the winner of this week's challenge. I was very impressed by her work this week.

Malvin, on the other hand... On one hand, it seems odd to me that they are quickly sweeping out the types of designers that they kept around for half a season last year, but that indicates to me that the overall quality of the work being produced is much higher. Not intending to knock the Season Five contestants, as I loved many of them, but it is evident to me that this year is a whole different ballgame. Malvin was an example of what happens when you marry a concept. You can't see how ridiculous it is rapidly becoming. I admire his drive, but I think he could have kept a slightly more objective eye when it came to his own design. It's like my college photography professor used to say, once you marry a concept, it's that much more difficult to improve and grow as an artist.

Also, Mitchell. Mitchell, Mitchell. The boy should know better. He desperately needs to pay better attention to his construction methods, if nothing else. I didn't dislike his design, quite the contrary, I thought it was adorable. But it's blatant that his construction methods are getting him nowhere. I understand that there's a time constraint, but if the other designers can do it, there is no excuse for him to not be able to.


That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Ari Fish, meet Blaine.

Also, do not like Lifetime. Their advertising campaign is strange to me. That may be splitting hairs, however. I don't remember much about the rest of the episode except for poor, spacey Ari. I appreciate her want to be individual, but I'm still painfully reminded of Blaine's "pooping fabric" dress of last season. Glad there will be no repeat.

Also, the poor boy with the sheer dress... I hope he improves, though I feel ambivalent about his personality/character. Which is why I don't remember his name right now.

Overall, I am hopeful that this will be a very successful season.

I don't know what it is, but I've been getting the itch to do something different lately. I want to go crazy and spend a bunch of money on frivolous things. I want to make some new friends. I want to start some new craft projects, despite my not finishing the ones I'm working on.

Things are changing, as things are wont to do, and I feel like I'm embracing it, moving with it, and it's inspiring.

I'm still too lazy to actually *do* anything about it... but at least I'm thinking about it.

I think I might go knit some more, now that it's on my mind though. ^_^

People who spend their entire lives trying to justify the circumstances of their existence to everyone else are a waste of time.


There. I said it.

I've known a lot of people like this over the course of my life, and I can't help but lose patience for them. I know, at their base, they are a collection of terrified people, too weak to fight the creeping insecurity, or just unwilling.

But, fuck. It's your life. Instead of talking it up to everyone else, and hoping you look important enough in their eyes, get to the root of the problem. Root out that insecurity and kill it.




...In other news, I promised you an update. Well, here it is. I got a new job. One that works me full time and pays me well. Also, I've more or less successfully stage managed my first professional show.


...Also, my friends have moved away. My closest friends in this city, and my Boy, gone to the east coast. Time will tell how I cope.


I know it's stilted, but that's really about it.

I don't seem to write much lately.

I have a lot going on in life, mostly good. But no time to cover it right now. But I promise I'll come back soon and let you all know what's going on in my life.

I've got it. Jon Gosselin is having his midlife crisis ten years too early. Because, I mean, he never seemed like this big of a dick in the show. So I feel like it's like "Woohoo, I'm single for the first time since my early 20's... now what do I do?"

..."well... I got trashed a lot when I was 20. Let's do that for awhile."


Sucks that it has to happen in the ridiculously overplayed spotlight though.








On a somewhat unrelated note; I seriously cannot believe I'm even posting this. Because I am pretty much beyond care or comprehension on that family. I like the show, but, come on.

I hate when I type a fucking essay on LJ and then it loses it like a fucking bitch.


Fuck.

I don't want to be forgotten when you move away.

And I don't want to learn that I was just some girl to waste the time before you're gone.  I realize that I will be half a continent away from you in a month or so, but it's not like I haven't driven across the country to be with the people I love before.  


I wish I could tell you this, face to face
But there's never the time, never the place...
This letter will have to do...