My Life and a Note on Unoriginality

Greetings, my esteemed friends and readers, from the depths of The Underbelly.

Speaking of which, Ihave a pronouncement! (ahem, ahem)

So, I, Mei-Mei, Queen of the Underbelly, after posting my very first and very posty post, was so proud of my extreme posty-ness, that I decided to search, "The Underbelly" on Google... you know, to see if this Oh-So-Wonderful-Blog showed up in the search. I was appalled to learn that there was a show on ABC called, "Notes from the Underbelly." Yeah. I had no idea, did you? Maybe you did... I was never very well-versed in pop culture, so there you go. Well, needless to say I felt a deep sense of loss, since I thought that The Underbelly was a very stylish and unusual sobriquet.

I. Am. A. Loser.

And I appologize. Sincerely.

Oh, well, life goes on.

Speaking of life, did I not promise you the story of my life? Yes, yes, I think I did. And since you were looking forward to that so, so much! I can't very well back out of my promise, now can I? No, no I can't.

I'm pretty sure I'm like the majority of the world in that I feel that there is an awful lot to be said of myself. My Story is deep, complicated, and engaging (well, to me, anyway) and, when I contemplate my life, I find no shortage of things to ruminate upon. But when somebody asks that fateful question... oh no.

"So, Melissa, tell me about yourself."

"Oh, well, um, yeah. I'm... uhhh...."

Yeah. Big blank spot. How do you respond to a friggin' question like that? It's ridiculous that anybody can even think that you could possibly sum up your life for them, right there, on the spot.

If you're Tori, you'll talk about sports and boys and how you're going to college to get free tickets to football games and bars... to the admissions officer from Duke.

If you're Johnathon, you'll throw the question back at them. "Why do you want to know? What's the point of you knowing?" You'll say this in a half whisper, half cackle, while planting this big, stupid, creepy grin on your face. I love Johnathon.

If you're Lan Chi, you'll be awfully surprised that anyone's asking you in the first place. Then you'll tell them that you're a hopeless failure and that they shouldn't bother with you anyway. If you're around the right people

If you're Qiu, you'll say, "Weeelll... I'm Chinese. I'm in da Architechure. My brudder... he's smarter dan me. And I want to make money! Don't tip the pizza boy!" But you'll sound so Asian and cute that the fact that you're a stingy little girl will go over most people's heads.

If you're Tyler, you'll look real nervous and say, "Uhhmmm... I don't know. My life is boring. And pointless. And I'm not really convinced that I exist, anyway."

If you're Vincey, you'll start to prattle on about Graphic Design.

If you're Khoa, you'll talk about how amazing you are at pretty much everything, and how you want to build a gundum and take over the woooorrrllllddd!!!

And if you're Craig, you'll snap, "None of you're business!"

But what about me? I've done a pretty good job of avoiding the question, haven't I? I guess I'm cornered now.... okay.

Well, I was born on April 19th, 1989, and nothing that unusual happened to me in my first bland years of existance... just the normal baby stuff. Apparently, I was quite the genius from an early age, though. Because I used to walk around and point out all the shapes I saw, like, a couple of months after I started to talk. "Tri-angle! Tri-angle! Par-o-lell-o-gram!" (this is according to my mom) Oh, yeah. Sexy, I know. Funny how I turned out to be the sensitive poet-type, and not a math prodigy. Go figure.

Well, life went on, and soon I was in preschool, being sent to the Principal's Office on a daily basis. I had a problem with authority figures, okay? Dammit, they wouldn't even let me finish with the Legos! It was there that I met my first best friend, Christopher. We both had a merry time romping gaily in the savannah conveniently located in my backyard, and chasing his little sister around until she cried. Then he moved to Chicago. Bye, Chris.

A little later, I made a replacement friend. This one was called Michelle. I'm just kidding, though... she was a lot more than a replacement friend... she was a perfectly bizzare companion for all of the weird little adventures I liked to embark on. We were both really into this book series called Animorphs, and we had loads of fun pretending that the Yeerks were coming to get us, performing dangerous medical procedures on her very ill stuffed animals, chasing the ice cream truck, and engaging in a variety of other childhood pleasures. She moved to Pennsylvania at the end of 5th grade, leaving me bereft.

Okay, this is getting a little long, isn't it? I'll continue when I get a chance. It gets more interesting, I promise!

Forever, Love and Puppies!
Your Adorable Mei-Mei

First Post (Panic)

So. This is a blog. And I am writing in it. Suddenly, I feel as if I live in the present. I don't think I have ever felt this sense of immediacy before... well, except when I beat Tyler's score on DDR. That was heart-thumping, asian-techno music madness.

My name is Melissa, and I am completely comfortable in the knowledge that I am writing to absolutely nobody right now. Yet, the possibility that somebody could stumble across this page and read intimate details about my life is there. Yet, funnily enough, I don't care. Well, I care enough that I feel more purposeful than I do when I'm writing in a diary. But not enough to give a damn that I'm going to be telling people some pretty embarassing things (if they ever do show up and decide to read.)

Have you ever gone to the bathroom and not washed your hands? Really, be completely honest. Except for you completely germophobic nutcases out there, I'd hazard a guess that we've all done it at least once. I used to actually distain the idea of washing my hands, as I didn't think myself Mortal and was, of course, immune to pestilence and disease of any variety. This is when I was 9 years old or so. This aversion was mostly due to my parents' constantly telling me how important it was to wash my hands. Of course, if they said it was Important, it obviously wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Don't worry. I wash my hands now. But back then, I did all I could to avoid it. In fact, when I made use of public restrooms, I showed absolutely no scruples about scrubbing my digits, even when there was someone in the the stalls beside me. Because I couldn't see them, and they couldn't see me, I didn't give a damn if they knew that I hadn't washed my hands. But when people were actually beside me at the sink, visible to me- and I to them- I washed my hands. I was too embarassed to walk out of that room, leaving them with the knowledge that I, Filthy Melissa, had not washed my hands. I think that blogging is the same way. You, dear reader, are the bathroom-adverturer locked in the stall, so I DON'T GIVE A SHIT IF YOU KNOW THAT I DON'T WASH MY HANDS!

You know, this firt post is absolutely typical of what you will get with me. Written at 7:00 in the morning on a night of no sleep. Kind of clueless, but charismatic and adorable all the same, in an over-the-top kinda way. Jumping all over the place. Lovingly.

So, what will you have in store if you read here? Um. Yes, lots of those! But, also, many charming observations about the quirks of everyday non-existance. Philosophy. Politics. My musings about how sorry I feel for poor 'ole Britney Spears, and how much I want to BANG, BANG, BANG! Shakira. Oi. Tales from The Underbelly, of course- The Underbelly being how I refer to my assorted collection of friends (I'll tell you about them later). Some thoughts on relationships (mostly mine, ha) and pop psychology. Eventually I might talk about some things that I don't want to talk about right now... basically all the stuff that I constantly worry about and wish I didn't.

And then the other big part- my writing. I'm going to be posting A LOT of writing. Mostly my short stories, poetry, and maybe some ideas for the novel I'm writing. It's called A Crowded Horizon, and you're going to be hearing about that a lot in the coming months, because I've just started writing it. It's going to be the next Great American Novel, so pay attention! mmmhmm. Really, I'm just hoping to finish it in less than a year, and maybe, maybe find an agent who's willing to take it on. But isn't that every aspiring author's dream? I'd like to think I'm special, but I'm probably just some other mediocre writer, one that's a dime a dozen... which depresses the hell out of me, but, hey, reality is pretty much the most depressing thing they've got going.

So, now that I've wandered all over the place, I better come up with an agenda for the coming bloggy, bloggy days... or else I will completely forget what the hell I'm doing and ramble on forever. I'll tell you my all-important thoughts on:

-my life leading up to college
-the history behind The Underbelly
-the current activity of The Underbelly
-my disgusting crush on a man who I may or may not be over
-Britney Spears
-Harry Potter
-romantic vs. existentialist
-my various failed attempts at writing
-masturbation
-intellectual snobbery
-my long, strange relationship with politics
-my relationship with my parents
-and much, much more!

I hope you're excited. Because then you are the most pathetic person I have ever met, and I can laugh at you for the rest of the day whenever I think about you.

So I'll leave you with this random bit of wisdom:

"Don't eat the salmon!" (I'll give you a dollar if you can tell me why that quote is especially significant to recent American History. And, no, I'm not afraid of losing my money, because NOBODY'S READING THIS!!! *sticks tongue out*)

Love and Puppies Forever,
Your Adorable Mei-Mei