On ending

Please join me in a moment of silence as I mourn the end of a lost era...a time that I fought with and fought through, so far from what I wanted...How much will I miss the constant neediness? How much will I miss the foot stomping and the pantyhose of a 26 year old never being right? Others find me brave, while they don't know I am terrified of falling even while I close my eyes and jump off every cliff...No hang glider above me...No net to catch me as I fly along...I always remember things easier that they were when I look through the rearview mirror...See, it's the happiest moments I choose to reflect on when each end of an era draws near.

In lust I hear hello...

You could write my lovers caresses congealed

line by line

on a music playlist.

Crawling

step by step

up my CD

collection,

cracking each

thin plastic jewel case

as I crunch along.

Bass, rhythm and lyric

that was

sometimes

solemnly given me

Now, coursing through

my bone and marrow;

Wings spreading into

Snapping flames,

Feet fanned into the

Chilly waters that drew down

my beloved Buckley,

While I become one more like myself.

The day when it dawns

I woke up nestled in my lover's white sheets. Woke up looking into eyes the color of a cloudless sky; long honey colored lashes. Remembering the strength I felt the night before and the night a few days before that.

He kisses me and runs his long fingers down my back. He gets up, puts on the clothes thrown on the floor and makes me the coffee he had started 12 hours ago.

I always love looking around the floor surrounding the bed at the scattered remains. He asks if I would like a cup, handing me a small serving in a dainty floral tea cup that has been in this borrowed apartment forever. We snuggle and I read the New York Times together, miles away from anything going on there. He gets out his laptop to check the baseball score. Charmingly explaining each score, illuminating me on the extreme difference between the Mets and Red Socks. I drink my coffee like an english rose, smiling to myself. I won't tell him my Grandfather had been taking me to games since I was in diapers. I point out the picture of the Somalian Refugee on the front page. Eyes glazed in tragedy, beautifully shot by a photographer who went home to a meal after taking it.

He tells me about how he has a hard day ahead of him. I put the paper aside, "Oh please tell me about the hard life you lead." I laugh. "Well, I get up at 2 in the afternoon," he kisses the inner part of my elbow, "I wake up with a beautiful woman in my bed," he kisses my mouth, "And I have to get my haircut at 3."

Star

I wrote a story that I am loving. I am herby copyrighting the hell out of it before I go any further. I don't know if I will write more in this style but maybe sometime. It may be cool, like Chelsea Handlers stupid one night stand book but I'll let you decide what's real and what's fake. I'll never tell ;)

We had been best friends for 3 years now. We surged with the kind of heated polarity that men and women can get when they are intimate with out making love. I had met him on set in LA. He had played the lead in the movie that had been made out of the book I had written.

He had been my favorite actor then since school. I had never dreamed that he would have taken the job. I cried tears of joy when I had heard he took the part and then tears of fear when I heard that I would be meeting him. We shook hands and addressed each other politely when we were introduced. I was warned before hand, much to my sadness, that he was a extreme personality and a diva on set. A juxtapose to all of the romantic strong leads that were my favorite ever since I had first fell in love with him on screen. Never the less I was determined to be polite to him. I was new to Hollywood and the fame of my book was merely a sizzle then.

I was hurried away to a small corner off set early on. “Mr. Myers does not like eyes on him when he’s working.” Curious considering he had just had an, albeit brief, broadway run the past year. I took no mind of his assistant’s comment and found myself a spot on the floor where I laid my coat down, propped up on my elbows and read my latest favorite romance novel while I waited for someone to come and get me. Being shown the dailies was initially my purpose of being here.

“I hope my acting isn’t interfering with your nap.” I awoke a few minutes later to the strong tenor of his richly accented voice as he stood above me. I took my time opening my eyes, then rolled over to my side to look up to him, “Not as of yet no, but your standing is blocking my light.” The color in his face rose. He knelt by me and looked me square in the eye, “I know who you are,” he said lighting those piercing blue eyes at me like he did so many of his leading ladies. I flashed my own dark ones cooly at him, “and I know who you are,” I smiled. He took a moment staring at me, then laughed.

I have been close to him ever since. The movie had exploded on screen and he had been nominated for several awards, as had I. I wasn’t used to the fame nor the attention I received. He being a star for several years now played the whole scene with an unnatural, rehearsed, yet perfectly cool ambivalence. I was just happy that I could now afford to pay Chelsea rent prices. And content with being able to lock myself away from the world for several months at a time while continuing work on my second novel.

These past three years had raged like a whirlpool. These last 6 months he had been trying to persuade me to visit him on his set in Rome. He was engaged at the time I met him and I was a guest at his recent wedding. “You have your wife with you.” I shouted to him on the phone, “For God’s sake, what do you need with my support there?” I love Rome but I had already been out there once with the pair of them before they got married. “Please come out you won’t believe what she’s done. I need you here.” “Oh for God’s sake! I’m finishing my third draft.” They had been fighting again. He turned to his usual ultimatums “I swear I’ll break you if you don’t help me.” “Sweetheart, you picked her.”

I had finally given him a key to my apartment. I had figured it was safer than having him wait outside while the paparazzo could be lurking anywhere. He was also supposed to be a happily married man. So said all of the tabloids. It was mid-afternoon. Creative flames struck. I had taken to my make shift office in my living room space, typing away, still in my night slip and a cardigan thrown on, coffee on the table. I was typing on my laptop, on my couch when the door flung open. He stepped into the room slamming the door behind him. Thank God my neighbors were at work. He threw his cliched leather jacket against the wall, “That bitch!” I glanced up from my writing, “Actors, always know how to make an entrance.” He flashed a look with is ice blue eyes that would have instilled fear in any other person except me. I met his gaze and they melted. “You don’t understand what it’s like living with her.” I saved my file and got up to get him his favorite tea. “What has she done this time Sweetheart.” He sat on my couch and rubbed his temples. “It’s abysmal living with her. She behaves as though she has no common sense. Like she was raised in a fantasy land.” I poured the water, “You knew she was from Malibu when you met her.” “Yes, but she seemed so, smart at first. She went to University for fucks sake.” I placed the cup in front of him, “Come on love.” He sighed, he had grown up dirt poor and worked in steel yards with his foster Father until he was 17 when a talent agent discovered him and brought him to America. He had never had a full prep school education. His education came from both the tough streets and the bad blood of the limelight. I had gone to the State college and had been raised the suburban sheltered life.

His hand shook sightly as he drunk. So he hadn’t been drinking on the plane before he got here. He sighed and put the cup down on the table. He shut his eyes as if in pain, “I don’t love her, you know.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “Of course you do.” He shook his head so sadly it broke my heart. “Come here,” He placed his head on my shoulder and took my hand. “She doesn’t love me either, no one does. Christ, am I drowning?” “What is it with you?” I asked shaking him off. He looked at me confused. “You have everything people could only dream of having. You have money, success, a fucking model and business woman for a wife. Everything and still you are the most miserable man I know.” His look turned mean and he turned away from me. I raised myself on my knees and took his face in my hands. His eyes were rimmed with red. I could practically feel him spiraling. If I hadn’t know him so well I would have thought he was giving the performance of his life. He was shaking now. We had been through this before. His lips were trembling. I ran my thumb across his lower lip, then his top, soft and too full for a man. “What happened to you?” the words shocked me, I hadn’t meant to speak them. Before I could stop him he pushed my hand away and gently took my face in his hand and kissed me softly. I made a motion to pull away but his kissed turned deeper. I had never truly tasted him before. His strong scent filled me to my core. I had not realized till this moment that I recognized his smell. He pushed me back down on the couch his mouth still on mine.

I pulled him to me out of instinct, my arms around his neck. I ran my fingers through his hair. I bit his lower lip lightly. His eyes glazed over as he tore at my cardigan and pulled down my strap. I sighed. Wasn’t this every woman in America’s fantasy. His mouth was hot as it traced the skin on my neck. He ran his hand up my slip to my panties. Every American woman’s fantasy. “Wait.” I said coming back down to earth. He whispered my name in my ear as his hand ran down my ass. He tried to kiss me again, “Sweetheart stop,” I said. He pressed on, I moaned slightly. I did forget who this was. With all my will power I shoved at him, “You’re married now.” I pushed away and sat up. His sad look returned as he sat up breathing heavily. His shirt was unbuttoned, I didn’t remember doing that. His beautifully muscled stomach heaved as he tried to regain his composure. I adjusted my own clothes. “You promised you wouldn’t try that again,” I said foolishly. “Well I guess I lied.” “You’re married to Sasha now. I won’t have you breaking both our hearts again.” I stood and walked over to the window to get away from the lust smell that hung over us. “I love you,” I heard him say. I rolled my eyes, “Yes and I love you too.” “No, please listen to me, I’m in love with you.” “Save it for your movies.” He grit his teeth and stood up. I squared off with him. He looked as though he would hit me. Instead he grabbed the cup and threw it against the wall. I laughed. “And now you owe me a new cup you son of a bitch.”

He stood quivering in front of me, “I want you more than I have wanted anything before, I love you more then anyone else.” “Yes, and once you’ve had me that love will fade. Just like everything else in your life. Once you get too close it burns and you run from it.” He stepped to me again and placed his hands on my face, his eyes pleading. He did look like a drowning man. “No.” I took his hand away and stomped to the bathroom locking the door behind me. Would he try to break it down again? A few moments later I heard the front door slam. I walked out cautiously. He wasn’t there, but in the corner still splayed against the wall was his jacket. My heart twisted. I heard myself laughing before I realized it was me. I laughed so hard it brought me to my knees in my own living room. I looked at the jacket, “Damn him.”

(c) J Mellado

Revised poetry on a rainy night

Within the give and take

I'm scared of what my actions will bring.
God knows,
I've known you
with such a red raw closeness
that I've now deemed too tender to touch;
So, I've cast all your fires out.
Heavy heart met the sensual wind and fled.

But, still you reside inside
buried deep
where I keep you straight jacketed
Reaching to claw at the walls.
***

The lies I told in the end

There was no fantasy.
The mind never
played our famous melody.
There was no weight tied to your splintered
knee.
Together was all total distraction
Infinitely disillusioned
Incomprehensibly blind.
No union of soul, body and mind
Now far too late to grow into.

Time for the release of the old and beginning a new

It appears as though it has only been a little over a year since I have written. It feels like years though. This blog I started in NY working as an actress. It served me exceedingly well and helped put a damper on my loneliness. I moved back to San Diego for my reasons. My goal now had turned to becoming a full blown writer, meaning paid :) I'm the last year I was lucky enough to have both extreme happiness and crushing sadness and the pain that comes with both. This has molded me into something I feel is very very different than before. I realized that I missed blogging. Arianna Huffington was on Bill Maher the other night talking about how self expression was the new form of entertainment and that it could be used either highly or frivolously depending on what people do with it. I'd like maybe try a little of both.

Peace + <3
BC/JJ

Doggie Doggie

My 13 year old dog named Wilbur died today. He was a black Dachshund that we got when he was a puppy from the litter of my Grandmothers dog. I kind of had a feeling about him when I saw him when I got home. He wasn't looking well. He hadn't been eating for the last couple of days and I went out today and looked into his dog house and he wasn't breathing. God, this is the hardest part about having pets, you know they don't live long compared to us but it doesn't make the attachment any less severe. It made me think for some reason, where did this little spirit go? My poor little dog all cold and curled up with his eyes closed. I know some people find it silly to be so attached to an animal but I am one of those people who find it hard not to be. And, in away if you've had an animal in your life for a long time like Wilbur, it's almost like a part of your past died with him. If that makes any sense, like it's time to move on and live. Poor little guy. Bye Wilbur, I love you.

A fairy tale

There once was a young girl who lived at the top of a grate hill that faced a tremendous moor. Every day the wind would whistle and be carried up, up, up to the tree tops that surrounded her tiny little cottage. One day the wind brought to her a handsome stranger. She saw him making his way to the cottage and ran up to meet him. He had been traveling a long way he didn't know where he was going all he knew was that he would know when he got there. She was fascinated by this man and brought him into the cottage and fed him soup and bread that she had made earlier that day. He was very hungry and very grateful for the small meal and in turn told her stories of his wandering, people he had met, places he had seen, all excited the girl, she had never had a need to go any further than the bottom of the hill that held the cottage. The stranger stayed no more than an hour, leaving her with nothing but an embrace and a mind full of mysteries. 

A week later the high winds set another stranger at the girls door, this time it was an old woman who claimed she was lost in the moor for hours trying to find the town. The girl let the woman into her house and gave her bread and wine. The old woman sat eating in silence for sometime when she looked up from her plate she told the girl that to pay her for her kindness she would tell her, her future. The young girl didn't believe in such things but decided to play along. After all the old woman was very poor by her dress and wanted so much to repay her. The woman took the young girl's hand and stared into the palm. "You must leave this place, A terrible storm is going to sweep up the moor and you will not be able to survive it". 'That's silly' thought the girl, 'This home has outlasted storms for generations, this is my home, I will not leave it'. The woman gazed into the girl's eyes, "Your true love waits for you at the end of your great journey, You will know who he is, you have seen his face before." With these words the old woman got up and left the cottage disappearing into the night, the wind whistling like a banshee behind her. 

The young girl was so troubled by this prediction, she didn't know wether to take the old woman's predictions as true or not. Strange, there were never visitors to these parts and with these two she didn't know what to make of it. She decided to continue with her chores as she always had done and put the strange meetings in the back of her mind. However the face of the man that the wind had brought her remained in her minds eye, throughout each day that went on. She never had any desire to leave her home on any adventure. The cottage was the home where she was born and she always had figured she would live there the rest of her days. It was silly to think that, even if she did choose to leave her home, how would she ever find the strange man? She thought on and on about the stories that he had told her. More and more she wished that she was there with him exploring strange lands.

The days crept on, and as the old woman predicted a horrible wind blew in from the north. The girl looked out her window at the approaching storm. "I am not afraid of it" she said. "I have weathered things far more terrible than you". The wind blew on her door, rattled the windows, and shook the floorboards, "You must leave this place," the wind seemed to scream as it tore off the shingles. "You must flee, find your love", the old woman's voice rang in the girls mind. She flew to the window and screamed out into the night "Never! I will outlast you! Do your worst!". 'If I chose to leave it will be of my own accord and nothing else' and she wrapped herself in blankets and sat at the window. She saw the heavens opening up and the storm came crashing around her. The wind and hail pounded on her door as if they had powerful hands knocking urgently. Stray tree branches scraped the wall and the wind seemed to cry to her.  The rain pouring on the window pane began to take the shape of the face of the old woman. "No," she screamed, "I will turn my back to you!" and she turned her chair. The lighting flashed and the rain poured. "If this is all you can do, I will sleep and not think on you another moment." With these words she got up and went and lay on her small bed the face of the old woman still beckoning to her at the window. 

When the girl awoke the next morning the storm had ended. Looking out the window the morning seemed grey but the moor had grown green and lush over night. When she opened the door lying at the foot of the steps was the traveler that she had met weeks ago. With all of her might she pulled him inside and set him on the bench by the fire. It appeared he had been out in the rain the entire night. The rain had brought on a fever to the man and the girl began to nurse him back to health. When he regained the power to speak, he spoke of an old woman whom he met on the road the previous day who told him of new journey he must set himself on. She told him that through all his wandering he had never found the one thing that mattered most in life. She told him to set his sights on the north star and follow it for a day straight though. He had no where in-particular to be and was very interested in finding the one thing that mattered most in his life. He had always considered himself a happy man and was curious to know what was missing. 

When the storm came upon him he couldn't turn back no matter how hard it raged. The black clouds eventually covered the stars but his curiosity and determination pushed him further and further, until he found himself in the middle of a moor staring at the old woman he had seen the day before. "My dear lady what are you doing out here in this monstrous weather?" She just looked up at him and smiled, "Madam are you alright?" The woman came forward and placed her hand to his forehead and that was the final thing her remembered until waking in the young girls cottage. The young girl hand her hand pressed to his forehead, he looked at her smiled, he knew he would find what he was looking for when he would arrive to it. The young girl smiled as she heard this story, for though she never believed in these sort of things she recognized the man's face. -J.M

the Dating Blog

I'm in a new city, a new world, a new life. I must admit the thought of seeing someone while I am out here has dawned on me once or twice. I'm not sure I'm in the stablest position to be in a serious relationship right now but when the inevitable loneliness hits me it's hard not to want to have someone to be there, in "that way". I did make a conscious decision to no longer date the hot messes that I am used to, (Not you dude, relax) and have resolved to be treated right, I know people think wait isn't that a no brainer but there is something about the hot mess that is the "bad boy" that girls are just so attracted to. I'm realizing that if a you realize early on that a person is a mess or "complicated" when you meet them don't bother trying to fix it because the change has to come within the person, your love won't fix it.
Maybe I will start dating again, God Damn, the thought of it scares me right now. I've got to take it slow this time. It feels like this will be the first time I am exploring this, Really dating and not jumping into things. Shit we'll see this blog is making me jittery just writing it... Later y'all

Remembering...7 years ago

Today marks 7 years since the Tower fell on 9.11. The day outside has been gloomy and dark. I haven't brought myself to watch any news but I was down at the site yesterday. My god it was huge I can't imagine, actually I am too afraid to imagine it. 7 years ago this was the day, in my eyes, where the country began to fall and the President began to fail his people. I hope this upcoming year and years to come brings healing and peace, I can't tell you how wonderful it would be to see the light again...

Note before I run out the door...

I made the trek across town to Kmart and now it looks like Martha Stewart broke into my apartment and threw up all over my kitchen! I don't know what it is with kitchen appliances and fixins but I get so excited like, "Oh, my god an onion cutter and apple peeler, I totally need one of those!" as if I didn't own a knife. Something about it also screams to my soul, "I'm a big girl now," which I love.
Last nights Journal entry (yes I really do think about things like this):
8.24.08
Sundays are lazy days in this city. For me it brings a wave of contentment and feels like a day long siesta where the city sits and sighs. Not much happens and all you feel like doing is sit and read and sip on a glass of wine. The traffic is sparse in the street. You can cross even the busiest roadways without waiting for the traffic light. The shops are closed and there's a stillness in Manhattan, maybe it's the calm before the storm. Maybe it's because I live in Astoria. I like the comfort of peace and not having the entire week bleed together.

So I work for Stillness?

It's strange, you work and work and audition and audition to get cast in a show; now that I am in one I totally feel like I am slacking the work part. I understand that this is the pay off but it still doesn't get rid of the ants in the pants feeling, like I've got to work! Don't stop now! September auditions are creeping their way onto the casting boards some of them look o.k. We just got our flyers yesterday, I'll post here pretty soon. Let's see, I just saw Brokeback Mountain today, I know like a million years and a dead cast member later. It was really sad, I was surprised that I was so moved by it, even when I had already known the ending. Heath Ledger, what a Damn shame, very good actor, don't test with your lives young people, seriously we are not immortal no matter what the latest vampire book tells you.

Finding Love at the Met

I once made a goal that I would find a painting that resembled my image of love, this was years ago, a kind of inside joke to a friend. I have finally figured out which one it is. If you could put all I want in terms of love into one image, it would be Pierre-Auguste Cot's Springtime. I see everything I could want is in this painting, protection, trust, loyalty, free-spirit, fun, everything in this image. It is supposedly at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I went today to look at the modern art section (my favorite), I have to make another pilgrimage their someday to actually see it in person. I love the Met. I am always excited to go in there and see live Picassos in all their styles and Van Goghs, Pollacks are so crazy and celestial I love it. Today they had Warhols that I hadn't seen up close before. Most of the wing was blocked off which was upsetting considering you spend a half hour trying to dissect the poorly labeled map and then get hopelessly lost through the maze of ancient artifacts just to get to the first round of Modern paintings. But I managed to get my fill of what I wanted to see, I bought a little journal with a beautiful 1800's tapestry replica cover to keep with me at all times. I've been keeping daily journals, I've been really good about it, I'll post the entries here every once in awhile. Maybe I'll end up being another Anais Nin someday, I love her.

Brownies and Love

So Today I apparently proclaimed it International Brownie day. I made enough Brownies to feed an entire block. Yields 24 my ass. So now I don't know what to do with them all it's so ridiculous in a yummy chocolate way. So come on down and have a brownie!



I've been thinking recently about love and falling in love. It's been quite awhile since I have had a full blown relationship. Not really for lack of trying but more for lack of focus. My entire goal was to get here and as odd as it sounds I feel like I've left something in the ways of love behind. I know not to be silly, none of the men I dated in S.D wanted a relationship and I wasn't in love with any of them. At least not in the way that I ultimately want to experience love. It's strange, I'm trying to work out in my head when I became so cynical about romance, not that I was a little girl who dreamed of her wedding day, but I still loved Disney romance stories. When did I choose to look at love and say that's a sweet thought and all but not it's not going to happen. When did I become so full of responsibility and self-made duties that I ignored my deeply romantic side? Maybe in NYC I can search for these answers, find my heart I guess you could say. Right now, I would say that that portion of my life is missing.