*Clang, clang clang!* Meeeeeeerry Christmas!!!

The mall, approximately 52 hours before Christmas Eve: NOT a fun place to be. But you knew that, right?
Everybody's out, slavering at the mouth to get those presents they've put off shopping for because they were too busy sitting at home watching local news broadcasts about people out shopping for Christmas early, pointing at them on the screen, and making fun of them. I refuse to use the phrase "last-minute shopping" in any of its variations because if I hear it again at any point in the next 48 hours, I may very well approach the person who said it and, quickly and nonconfrontationally, shove a candy cane where the sun don't shine. That sounds violent, I realize. I just hate seasonal cliches.
I was very surprised yesterday at Cary's illustrious Cary Towne Center mall ("Town" spelled with an "e" to up the hoity-toity factor, one can only presume), by a number of things. First of all, where did all the Indian people come from?? I cringe at even asking because such questions are the proverbial match at the end of the fuse on a big ol' keg of racist gunpowder, but I don't mean to sound racist in the least. I'm honestly curious about what it is about the Cary area that draws more and more people of this nationality every year. If not for their colorful dress, they would've blended right in as they rushed around with a look of grim determination on their faces just like the rest of us, but as their children were some of the most adorable I've ever seen in my life, I couldn't help but notice their growing number.

Second Surprising Thing I Noticed at the Mall: the infinite number of times a teenage girl squeals, screams, or otherwise uses in general conversation the phrase "Oh my god!" I was in Bath & Body Works with Mom, studying a display of a new scent called "Sleep" (a combination of cinnamon and cloves), when the display in question was also approached from the other side by a gaggle of three or four girls, approximately 13 in age. They were at that charming stage of physical development when their noses, arms, and legs are disproportionately long compared to the rest of their bodies, yet they somehow remain cute, in an awkward coltish way. They were clad in the standard uniform of girls of their age: a combination of denim skirts, hoodies, jeans, and colorful socks from one or the other of the three A's: Abercrombie and Fitch, American Eagle Outfitters, and Aeropostale. They approached rapidly and in one clump of arms and legs, moving much like the collective Peanuts gang as they decorated Charlie Brown's tree in A Charlie Brown Christmas: features indiscernable initially, just a moving mass of giggles and noise and the refrain of "oh my god!". I was a little taken aback as I didn't expect the display of Sleep products to merit such a vocal response (it is intended to be relaxing, after all), but Girl Number 1 seized a bottle, exclaimed "Oh my god, SLEEP!", and proceeded to read the label out loud to her companions, who were all breathing heavily and grinning to beat the band. All I could see from my position on the opposite side of the display were scarves, noses, and hair. I quickly moved on.

Surprising Mall Thing Number 3: People are angry. In the case of Christmas shopping, I can only guess who it is they're mad at. They're mad at themselves for waiting until three days before Christmas to do their shopping. They're mad at the knowledge that now all the people who have their shopping done are sitting at home, watching them on their local news broadcast, pointing at them on the screen, and making fun of them. They're mad at the actual people who necessitated the buying of gifts in the first place: the loved ones for whom they're slogging through the mall, swiping and purchasing at an alarming and angry rate. These people don't want to stop, they don't want to browse, and they don't want you doing either of the above in their vicinity. They will jostle your shoulder hard as they pass you, they'll sigh loudly at the store counter as they wait in line behind you, and they WILL move as if to hit you with their car, should you dare have the audacity to cross a parking lot in front of them with more parcels than they've managed to buy at that point. Move quickly, keep your head down, and don't make eye contact. These are the only ways to have a semi-acceptable existence to these people.

Surprising Mall Thing #4 (and then I'm done, I promise):
Nobody who actually WORKS at the mall knows anything about anything having to pertain to the mall. If you want to know where anything is, how much it is, if there are any left in stock, what other stores might carry what you're looking for, and/or what the mall hours are, you'll have to ask your fellow shoppers. Employees will give you nothing but a blank stare and your receipt.

I hope you all are surviving the pre-holiday season and that you're now one of those at home, watching last-minute shoppers (yes, I know, I said it...keep your candy cane!) on the evening news and shaking your heads in mock sympathy. 'Tis the season for baking and I have a lot to do so that'll most likely be the next Christmas adventure of mine you're privy to. Happy shopping/wrapping/frustrating everyone! And be safe out there!

What the...?

What the crap happened to 2008??
What the crap happened to ME???
I blog no longer, yet I call myself a writer (in the professional sense, I suppose this is true). How can this be?!

Hi.
So it's been....eh......a year or so since my last blog post and you've all forgotten me. That's okay. I'd like to say I've been working on the upkeep of my ant farm or my second best-selling novel, and I suppose I could say that, but consequently, I'd be full of crap.

I've missed you!

Obligatory Personal Update:
2008 has been a great year. I'm still working at SchoolDude, plugging away and working on some new (read: scary and exciting) projects there, and daydreaming about becoming a freelance writer in my spare time. That hasn't happened yet. That's where 2009 comes in. More to come on that in a minute.
In 2008, I also met and began dating The Most Wonderful Guy In Melissa's Personal History. His name is technically Jordan though. We actually met via email in November of 2007 through my lovely and effervescent cousin, Rebecca Lindhout, and now it's basically her fault that I'm absolutely crazy about this guy (who , by the way, lives in Boston). Never would've happened if she hadn't given him my email address. Well...it's Jordan's fault too that I'm crazy about him. He constantly impresses me in countless ways and boy howdy, does he make me laugh. He's wonderful. I'll leave it at that before you stop reading.
Also in 2008, I began my world travels (thus far, having hit up the states of Massachusetts and Kentucky). Don't worry, the rest of the world will follow suit. I'm in love with Boston now...it's a beautiful city and is everything a city should be: historic, alive with young people and their energy, a creative magnet, chock full of Irish pubs, and only smelling faintly and in isolated areas of urine. LoveBoston. Love it. I was there two weeks or so ago for their first snow of the year. You could really tell I was from out of town as I strolled haltingly up Tremont next to the Common, gawking at the constant, steady blur of falling snowflakes and holding up my fellow pedestrians. Jordan said I reminded him of a cat that morning, sitting in front of the window and staring out in fascination.

Along these lines, 2008 brought with it, my first visit to...guess. Humor me. Really? You got nothing? No, not Lake Tahoe. Seriously. My first visit to Lizzie Borden's house! Located in picturesque Fall River, Massachusetts, the house itself is three stories high, painted a lovely dark green, and not imposing in the least. Jordan and I stepped through the front door on a July evening and were greeted by victorian charm and a wave of 90+ degree heat that almost canceled that charm right out. You see, the AC was out, due to some rennovations being done, and so we experienced Lizzie's house as she herself would have in July: humid and absolutely insufferable without the fans running in the open windows. Honestly, it was enough to drive a person to....commit a horrible homicidal act upon her father and stepmother with a hatchet on an otherwise unremarkable morning in 1892? Maybe. Along with other guests at the Lizzie Borden Bed & Breakfast that night (that's right, it's a B&B now and we STAYED THE NIGHT THERE!), we were cajoled into participating in debating the case, possible motives, and various contestants in the running for "whodunit". Also...we reenacted that fateful morning. Yes, we did. Characters in the story were picked at random by our hostess, based on our heights in relation to the actual people involved. As a result, Jordan was chosen to be Andrew Borden (Victim #2) and I was shortly thereafter designated to be that night's Abby Borden (Victim #1). What this means, basically, is that Jordan had to lie on a sofa in the exact same spot as poor Andrew when he was bludgeoned to death with a hatchet as he took a nap after lunch. Photo op. Not much later, I pretended to make up the bed upstairs as our (charming) hostess snuck up behind me with a hatchet (I never saw her coming) and pantomimed hacking me repeatedly in the skull. I dramatically (and impressively) crumpled to the floor in the same spot where Abby's body lay 116 years before. Wow, was that a creepy feeling. I lay on the carpet, looking under the bed to the stairway outside the door to the bedroom, well aware that an actual crime scene photo hung on the wall directly above me, depicting poor Abby as she was found that day. Morbid? Yes, quite. Fascinatingly cool? Yeah, that too. I have to admit it gave me the proverbial "willies". We spent the night in Lizzie's actual bedroom, with her sister Emma's room directly adjoining, but nothing spooky occurred. No noises, no voices, certainly no full-body apparitions...not even an indistinct anomaly. I actually felt about as comfortable staying in the Borden house as I do in my own. Maybe it's all the Victorian decor. Very "Currier and Ives". Mom and Dad love that crap. And I do have to point out that none of the furniture in the house was original. Whew.
Jordan went downstairs at 2am with his video camera, catching what we would later discover were EVP's...voices caught on tape that weren't actually heard by Jordan at the time he was filming. Among the quotes caught were the words, "Who's there?" and "I didn't...do it." Of course, we didn't find these until we viewed the footage later or that might've upped the creepy factor quite a bit. It was hard to sleep in such sweltering heat, but I managed somehow and we woke up the next morning to an authentic 1892 breakfast of johnny cakes, eggs, and fruit. I'd never had johnny cakes before. In case you're wondering: cornbread patties, fried and doused with maple syrup, like pancakes. Yummy.
So that was probably my favorite experience of 2008. We arrived around Lizzie's birthday and you'd be amazed at the eccentric (read: downright weird) folks all across the country who actually send cards and flowers to her former home for the occasion every year. Those people may very well be more creepy than Lizzie herself. Did she "do it"? No idea. I like to think she was framed and just happened to be seen innocently burning a stained dress the next day. Eh...as they say of how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll pop: "The world may never know."

2009 will be the year of the following:
1. Melissa's Freelance Adventure: How It All Began. (Coincidentally, also the title of the first chapter in my autobiography, coming soon to a Borders near you, Summer 2027.)
2. The Year Melissa Worked Out Like Xena, Warrior Princess and Consequently Kicked Booty.
3. The year Melissa finally found "her" church.
4. The year Melissa learned the words to "Auld Lang Syne" and what "Auld Lang Syne" means (literally: "Old Long Since". You're welcome.)
5. The Year Melissa Learned to Cook.

Among other things. I'm also hoping it'll be The Year Melissa Blogged Consistently. Fingers crossed, I guess we'll see about that. I'm working on a few short stories to subject you all to soon AND, when number 1 on my 2009 list takes place (as I'm almost a little sure it will within the year), you will all hear about it and be called on to suck it up and act happy for me.

Speaking of blogging (a few sentences back), Nathan's doing a great job on Raleightively Speaking so go check him out if you haven't already. The boy's actually quite humorous and can even be somewhat poignant in his observations. Look at me: I'm a proud older sister.

See you soon. I'm off for a lunch of goat cheese and cranberries. On a salad. Potato chips and ranch dressing on the side.