So I guess the term "Internet Blog Project" might be a little bit more applicable to what I'm doing now.

To explain, I have expanded myself over several sites, and will probably end up on more by the time I'm back in school (June 11th). So this is my site for talking about my life; my Tumblr is for quotes, conversations, and websites; my Vox is for QotDs, Vox Hunts, and discussions of books, movies, shows, and CDs; my finetune is my attempt to both expand my musical taste and share it with others; and my twitter is for all those little updates in between.

Then, I'm hoping to get back to 43things which would be for my eternal quest to improve on myself (or just try a couple kinky sex acts). In other words ... NOW is the time to throw your latest internet trend at me to see if I'm interested! I also feel a little behind because I just jumped on the Technorati boat.

To quote my Tumblr (like Katili did), "[Melony Louise: more determined to be a world-famous internet whore than j00.] "

Okay, so back to life.

I went to the doctor today for my panic attacks (finally). I had a small scare because he asked at random, "does your family have a history of heart disease?" I was like, "oh my God, I'm the start of a history of heart disease in my family, aren't I!?" But then he went back to normal discussion of panic attacks. I'm supposed to get a phone call from The Mind Institution in Downtown Sacramento, and if I don't by Monday, I'm to call them.

And I realized at the doctor that I am far too optimistic. To the point that yes, I realized that there have been problems, but it never clicked how much is happening to me at once. Coming up in less than six months is my 18th birthday. Here in a couple weeks I go to summer school. My dad's coping with alcoholism. My mom fights with him a lot for it. The Boy has heart problems, and depression related to it. And I'm sure that if you didn't see my rant about Stacy, you will soon.

It's uncharacteristic of me, almost. I can think back to previous points in my life where, when things got just a little rough, I was ready to freak and bitch and moan. But you know what it is? I've always had a good, tight knit, happy family, even with the problems. But now I have friends [and a boy] that make me feel the same way. Where it used to bother me that I didn't have many people in my life, it doesn't any more, because the relationships are of quality so I don't need the quantity.

This is all nice, until you realize that it's allowing me to not deal with problems and let them manifest into ... attacks. It's very strange, how not even being happy makes me truly happy.

Got up at 8:45 this morning so I could ride my bike to my doctor's appointment.

Got there, got in, only to have the nurse tell me, "you don't have a guardian with you, you have to go home."

I. Hate. Doctors. And the people who work around them. And the way they fucking do things.

I mean, let's think about this ... this is the same doctor who always ushers my mom out of the room (or at least tries to) so we can talk privately about my vag, even though when it comes to talking to doctors she knows more about it than I do. I'm supposed to be able to get birth control secretly from these people.

But I go in, alone, when all my family is too busy to take me in, and it's like "Noooo, we can't have this!"

And then when I was getting my blood pressure taken, someone said HI MELONY! And I saw their face, and I said hi, but ... WHO THE FUCK WERE THEY!? AHHHH!

And I end this with, my salmon thingie isn't that great, and I'll make a better update tonight, if I remember.

The upside to scheduling my day: I always finish what I have down to do before I said I should have it all done, and it makes me feel like I'm accomplishing a lot.

So I despise UC Davis and need to find a new clinic. I call at like 10:30 to ensure things are confirmed and duh-de-duh. "I'll take a message and have her people call." They call at 2:30 and say, "can you come in at 3:30?" "...No. I have no ride and no co-pay money." "Well, we have no more appointments until June. So, call tomorrow and see about any cancellations, and if you don't want to do that, you can go to an urgent care facility [Med 7]."

First off, who the fuck calls a patient and goes "be here in an hour"? Second off, I left a message on this topic TWO WEEKS AGO, and nobody can fit me in until at least two weeks from now? Third, UC Davis, the best doctors in ... the country, right ... referring me to a Med 7!? When I'm having ANXIETY PROBLEMS!? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!? I'm about to have a breakdown in the middle of the street Cameron Diaz in Very Bad Things style. Well, minus the paralyzed husband, dog, and family friend and the two obnoxious children. And the dirty house. And all that. Yeah.

But aside from wanting to go kill the UC Davis folks, it was a good day where I got stuff done.

Hey, if you happen to have a band, you should leave a comment to let me know you want to be on my radio show.

I'll do what I can to have tomorrow's post be a little less screamy ... if I make a post. I'm going to a concert with a friend, and maybe her boy, and maybe The Boy. So it might be early Saturday of doom more than tomorrow. If I'm conscious enough to make one at all.

Panic attacks are a son-of-a-bitch. I was just thinking to myself the other day, "I think mine are gone. It must have been a week at least since my last one!" But of course, as punishment, one kicked me in my invisible testicles today. So tomorrow, I'm going to call the doctor's office again and make an appointment.

Which leads me into how much I HATE UC Davis. Best doctors in the United States, the worst fucking desk bitches. "Leave a message for Dr. [Radio Edit]. I want information on my recurring bladder infection, or maybe just have it re-looked at or something, and I'm having panic attacks." "Okay, someone who isn't your doctor is going to call you back in five minutes and demand you go to a Med 7 for a urine test, and I think that since you've only been having attacks for a week they aren't that important." Two weeks later, I've learned that bladder infections, the recurring kind, are really not curable by medication ... it's all about using natural things to keep it bearable (cranberry juice, lots of water, and avoiding added sugars) and being hygienic about the things that cause it to flare (in my case, sex). But the panic attacks, I have no idea what the cause is, if there are dietary changes I should make, if maybe I need a shrink type person, just that the feeling of going insane is a NORMAL SIDE EFFECT. What the fuck, right?

You know it's bad when they have to actually put a sign up: "if you've been waiting for twenty five minutes or longer, please let us know [my handwriting in sharpie under it: BECAUSE WE ARE DIPSHITS WHO HAVE NO CLUE WHAT THE FUCK WE'RE DOING. KTHNXBYE.]"

Okay, enough bitching. Tomorrow will be the first day since I started last semester that I'll be sticking to a schedule. It's pretty sad that I have to program myself like an obsessive compulsive robot in order to get shit done, but hey, such is life. I just lost the game.

Also, my mom's been giving me shit since Sunday about the whole Don Imus being fired thing. It's kind of funny but annoying. Funny in that ... I don't really give a shit anymore. Annoying in that ... Jesus Christ, I don't give a shit anymore, woman!

EDIT START
I got the host site for my blogtalkradio show today! Now it's just a matter of getting the chick who wanted to be the first guest to talk to me and commit to a day and time. So, keep one's eyes peeled for when I run around nearly naked going WOOHOO!
EDIT END

On a final note, I have the song from the Loituma Girl flash loop. My friend Elizabeth sent it to me, who I add is Canadian and thinks that my American accent is very cute. It's a shame that bit is all just Finnish gibberish cos I was gonna find the lyrics for that bit, learn it, and sing it on the lightrail for a couple hours while spinning a leek sprig. Ah well