Feeling compelled to compile positive memories

In an effort to be supportive, my husband has been reading a 61 page partial draft – it’s 61 printed pages, so that’s 153-214 book pages, depending on sizing and format and shit. He told me the first day he delved into it that he couldn’t believe how much the portions he’d already read are improved, and that he wanted me to write something for him. He said he wanted something other than “gay island sex” which…okay fine there’s a lot of that, but the entire world the book’s set in is two different island nations…but that could be the United Kingdom, right? So don’t automatically think Fire Island. Anyway.

I wanted to write about positive memories I have of two people who mean a great deal to me. It hadn’t really dawned on me to do so, that maybe this is the sort of thing that’s good for others to have, one day.

My husband cherishes me in an odd way. He told me once one of the reasons he wants to have kids soon, because he wants to have them with me specifically, and you never know what the future holds. He said the same thing in the context of my writing for him, that he wanted to have some of my writing in case I was ever gone. I guess you could be snide and say that he sounds paranoid and morbid. But, at least to someone like me, it’s really, really sweet.

Omfg, we got this Double OG and it’s got me so high I’m crying. Do you realize the last time I cried for non I’m-too-high-right-now reasons is past my conscious memory? I’m glad I’ll do it when I get too baked and think about something really emotional, like how my husband and I both being terrified by the idea of not being able to ever see or speak to one another.

And, if you can imagine, being me and all with all my weird fucked up-ed-ness, it’s never once even dawned on me to say some of these things to these people.

1st, since I knew her first, is my best friend. You could argue we were our closest the first semester of senior year, and then for the eight months I was dating one of her roommates who was also her fiance’s best friend. Those eight months happened when we were both going to college at the same university, the state school that’s in our hometown, so we had the cause and the means to hang out like four times a week. If not more.

When we were tight in high school, we would always go to taco bell. Literally never any other fast food, but that one all the damned time.

When we were in college, it was Olive Garden. I don’t even like their food, but we smoked and Olive Garden was one of the last places to allow a smoking section, back when that was a thing. Neither of us smoke anymore either. She’s a doctor now, FFS.

So my best friend and I would work out at the school gym after class, then get dinner at a restaurant neither of us could really afford afterwards. We both worked full time and went to college full time and still made the time to date fucking losers who were three years older than us.

I guess you could call it a trashy memory, but it’s a good one.


For my husband, I will always associate him, in some way, with the summer. We met in June, and were officially together around Bastille Day (which is July 14th). So every first memory is framed by a warm summer activity.

The town we met in may have been way up north, as they call that area down here where we live now, but it was pleasant enough. There’s a bridge downtown, we’d walk there in the middle of the night, walk to the center of it, and sit and watch the water move past. We were on it at one point during our wedding night, but lets not go there.

We’d go to one of the nature centers and walk a few miles out into the woods then get high off a joint rolled with those strawberry rolling papers (red with black seeds to look like the surface of an actual strawberry) that don’t exist anymore, because they were marketed towards children? Idk

We’d rent whole seasons of TV shows from Blockbuster (wow, I really don’t mean to keep mentioning obsolete shit, but here we are) and get takeout from a chain that’s only up north in our hometowns and watch half in one sitting.

We loved each other then. We love each other now. We’re good for each other…now. Before neither of us were good for anybody. No matter what has happened or might in the future, I know that’s all true.



Well, that’s a wrap on that.

In other news, I am proud to say that I for ONCE have plans on a day everyone else has plans – tomorrow, that is. My husband wanted to go back to his hometown for the day because his long time friend would be in town from college. I was like, I should see if my friends from back when (all three of them) want to get together. It’d been two years since I bothered to go up and see them so they all said yes right away. Plus I gave them like a week’s notice.

So it should be fun, I think, to see them. I’m hoping I can drink without getting shit canned. We’ll see.

I have pole dancing class on Sunday. I’m so excited to yet again by far be the worst one in the class. I can’t pull up my own body weight. It’s humiliating. I weigh a lot. What can I say. But, everything I’ve read online says you pretty much have to get a pole for at home to become any good because you need to practice that much. So, whenever we’re financially able, I’m going to get one. If nothing else I’m sure I’ll have one by my next birthday, which is one month and four days away, because, if I haven’t mentioned this, yes, my birthday is 4-20. Hilarious, isn’t it? Also, it’s either ironic, or the least ironic thing on the fucking planet. I can’t figure it out. ALSO by my birthday, our first crop should be ready. You have NO IDEA how long (okay it’s 11 years) I’ve been wanting to grow my own weed. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH MONEY WE’RE ABOUT TO SAVE.

So, that’s what’s up with me lately. I feel like my husband and I have been doing a lot of creating or attempted creating lately. Which is good, if you think about destruction as the alternative, which we were soooooo good at doing before.

Anyway, peace. Here’s a picture of me writing, with my trustiest, bestest kitty, Oscar. I promise I will post pictures and video of me pole dancing when I’m not a disturbing embarrassment out there. writing pic


When lunch time is the only time

Deepest apologies, it dawned on me yesterday that I didn’t include the picture yesterday. I didnt mean to picture taunt, I’m always accidentally doing that to my mom, because, as you know, email is the only way I’ve spoken to her for the past three years. It’s good we have that one way to speak to one another, though when she tells me how much she misses me and how well get to see each other somehow….I just don’t have an answer. It’s not my fault the only way she gets to “see me” is if I email her a picture, but IDK I’m sure in her head it kind of is. Everyone in that family is so obsessed with blaming other people for everything , because, I mean obviously, what are they going to do, something healthy?

So that’s the picture. I would have added it last night but then I’d think about writing about one thing and write a 2500 word blog instead so. I do everything I can to spend as much time in the evening writing as I can. Writing my novel, not this blog. I can only imagine how fucked this anonablog would be if I was focusing all of my attention into it’s contents.

Come to think of it, it’s probably for the best I don’t have to time or energy to REALLY delve into my childhood, because, IDK it’s not an easy thing to pick up every day like an instrument you’re trying to learn. It’s one thing to go back to my novel, but even that even if you’re doing it every day you still lose momentum. I still have to back read a little, be like okay which “he” and “he” are going at it right now? Or whatever.

They said once that a novels sex scenes shouldn’t be gratituous and should only exist to move the plot along.

I perhaps took this too to heart. Because what i have is a novel entirely propelled about by the sexual interactions of the characters. And yeah, you do have your favorites, and it’s not necessarily the one you modeled after yourself. Not that they’re not there.

There are times when I think about how I’m just soooooo fortunate to have so much horrible human being/awful father experience from my own life.

I can’t tell if I would have rather had a happy childhood and grown up secure and stable, or if I’d rather be as I am. I think I’d keep things the same. You know that bullshit about how “the same boiling water that hardens an egg softens a potato, it’s what you’re made of not what you went through”? Well NEVER has a more perfect example of an egg and a potato come to life than my idiot brother and myself. He probably would have turned out shitty even if we had a great dad, that’s my theory on him. And it’s not sibling hate. Please. I wish we had some sort of a normal relationship. Hes so unstable he seriously couldn’t leave our Instagram friendship alone. Out of the blue he would delete me, I wouldn’t find out about it until he sent me a new follow request. Who does that? Who regularly deletes their only sibling on social media for NO reason??? I could never tell what I was going to get when I dealt with him. When he was feeling especially needy, you know because all he does is sabatoge his own life then cry about it, hed do anything for me, including “give the last drop of [his] blood” for me. Then, just as unprovoked as his weird misguided affection, would be the bouts of reviling me. One time I got a new cell phone number, I was probably 23 or so, and I texted it to him, his response was “what do I care? We never speak.” He’s too much like our father. He had no chance in life. But he’s also not worth my time.

Sounds harsh, i would guess a really good person wouldn’t abandon their brother, but never oh never did you hear me say I was that. And I mean I do resent him too. He’s my older brother and all he ever did was pick on me, order me around, contradict everything I said, invalidate anything positive I did, start fights with me out of boredom, attempt to control me in that CREEPY way our dad already was….yeah…..

In fact, every single facet of my brothers behavior was a direct mirroring of how our father treated him.

Note this is not me making his excuse for him. ITS NOT AN EXCUSE. He had the chance to lot be garbage, but consistently for the past 33 years all he’s ever done is choose to be garbage. I guess the hard work involved looks like too much, because he’s pathologocally lazy to the frightening extent our father is. Like they both have a conversion reaction if they think THEIR precious selves might be doing something that someone else could do. Combine that with the ultimate losers mentality (the “no one gives me credit for my meager amount of effort, so I refuse to put in any more”) and do you think you’ll wind up with some winners?

They’re the definition of losers – my dad and brother. The last time my dad has a job that wasn’t embarrassing was when I was 5. He was a cop, but he decided to fraudulently file an insurance report for a stolen rifle that was never stolen, when the department caught wind of it, he was told to take a six month suspension. He refused because he’s an arrogant narcissist, went to court, and lost everything because a TON of higher ups in the department despised him because he’s a horrible human being. I’d go into the rest of his pathetic work history but my lunch is almost over.

My brother and working? Well when he was 20 he got $100,000 as an accident settlement, and that’s just bound to ruin a person, especially one that was already garbage. Of course, I think you can tell who REALLY, really pushed my brother to get that money, because he knew he’d get a lot of it.

Well now I’m pissed off I guess I’ll go.

Just kidding. It’s nice writing about them but not having to deal with them. Because my brother and dad are waste of space garbage people whose faults SO outweigh their positive traits it’s not even worth knowing then.

So, if you have a shit parent, try imagining what itd be like to not ever deal them. I strongly recommend. (Disclaimer-not for the weak of heart or spirit)

Just go with it

Not anything specific, that’s just how I’ve always lived my life. It’s been going okay for me, I guess.

Let’s see, what’s new. Well, as if we’re even surprised, nothing fun or spontaneously sexual happened with my work outing. I wish, right? Well, at least with the one, but upon meeting that dude’s wife….uhh….there’s no nice way to say what I have to say about all that *eye roll eye roll eye roll* it’s just that I can’t stand anyone whose entitled, I really can’t. It’s my parents fault, I had to watch them entitle and ruin my brother.

Not much is really going on. Ive been going to that poledancing class for the past few weeks, just as I suspected it’s fun but an insane amount of work, and I am terrible. Like embarrassingly terrible. But I guess it’s important to keep going back. Its not often that I find an athletic activity that I’m actually into. Just wish I had the necessary upper body strength. Perhaps one day….

I am in the process of looking for a new job. So many things are a toss up right now. I’m kind of waiting to see if I get a new job or get pregnant first. We’ve been trying, I can tell you that much. My husband has some really specific cum fetishes so that works out (if you’re dying to know he’s got this thing with the idea of cum dripping out of someone, I’m like where have you been it always does that) I wouldn’t say I hate my current job, but there’s a lot about it that I don’t want to deal with anymore and let’s face it no one earns a masters in English to work in logistics.

Speaking of actually using my degree, I should let you know that I’ve really come a long way towards having a ful rough draft. The picture below is my story board, it’s the first book all in one place. The stuff with blue highlight is already written, so now it’s just a matter of getting the rest done and smoothing it into a cohesive rough draft good enough to hand to other people and ask for their opinions. Then, its self publishing time. I like how self publishing gives the writer all of the control. We all know how I like control….lol…..

It’s not the easiest thing to ask someone whose input would be worth while to read a full draft. I’ve been dropping hints with my best friend, but she just graduated from medical school as starts a legit doctor job in June so….IDK if I should expect her to be able to help.

Next Saturday I’m actually going to see my three friends from the job I had 2005-2012, one of them would be a good candidate. Well see where the conversation goes when I see them, mostly they just want to talk about their kids. I’m not telling them were trying, I don’t want to tell anyone. Plus it could take five years so who knows.

So yeah, this might be my most upbeat post ever, but it wasn’t meant that way. Not to say I’m feeling down either. Naturally, I fall into that laid back don’t give a fuck category, I really do. I wonder sometimes about how I would be as a person if I hadn’t been SO exposed to my parents’ mental illness as a child. I mean I know I’ve spent some time discussing how my dad is a piece of shit psychotic narcissist, but I mean I never forgot to remember that my mom was the one keeping us there, too weak to leave or even stand up for herself, or us. And I guess it was a side effect of being so miserably unhappy in her marriage, because she surely was the most depressive mother a person could ask for. She used all of her cheerfulness, all of the joy and happiness that’s naturally a part of any given person’s demeanor, impressing strangers. In being he sweet, passive one at work, she’d come home and yell at me when she really wanted to yell at my dad and her shitty coworkers. People were always telling me how nice my mom was, how she just never get mad……yeeeeeeah those types of people are the worst kind to be around when they feel secure. My mom only felt secure when it was her and I. And no matter how many times a person can be told to not speak to their child about ALL of their adult problems, someone like my mom isn’t going to listen. Because even the ones getting abused, they still just want to be able to inflict that same suffering on someone else. The only breaking of the cycle is possible, but it is not easy. I know very well how hard it is.

See, there’s that Cassie tone. Well lunch is almost over so I should peace.


Update time

Well, in the vein of trying to seem positive….how have things been?
Pretty decent. It’s that weird time of the year where I take advantage of all the free time winter affords us, and I get a lot of errands and old To Do List items checked off. One of which was getting an eye exam, going to the OB/GYN, going to the regular doctor for a physical because I haven’t done that in like ten years, and the that book class – that was last Tuesday.

It was called “How to Write a Book in 30 Days and Self-Publish.” I can’t tell, yet, I guess, if it was worth the collective $70 it cost me. It was a 3 hour spiel, all at once last Tuesday. The instructor was likeable and energetic enough, and he gave us each (all 3) of us a copy of his first book as a gift. It’s actually a valuable tool, because it’s an extraordinarily well done self-published book. I’ll be honest, younger me thought self-publishing was something lesser-than writers had to do. But, it’s so fitting to my personality to want to be in total control of this shit, self-publishing will probably be the way for me. When I get there. I know I will. I’ve firmly resolved to do the following, until I’m done:
1 hour of writing every weeknight (this can easily be done if I limit Netflix/Hulu watching)
3.5 hours of writing every Saturday and Sunday.
That’s 12 hours spent writing every week. I’m using a stopwatch to  not include the MANY breaks I take, like for household tasks, smoking weed, making coffee, etc, etc.
That’s making writing a part time job for myself. Which clearly I need to do since I can so obviously write a book.
I did that weird thing I do in that class, where because I slightly mishear, or simply don’t want to tell the truth, for some unknown reason, I lie. He asked us if any of us blogged. I didn’t hear the word right so I just shook my head no. HA, do I blog. Sorry, blog, I disavowed you in public, but it wasn’t out of shame. I kind of proud of this disturbing mess. Because that’s a great way to describe my real self. But, you better believe it, I don’t act like my real self all that often. I mean, have you SEEN some of these passages? I’ve tolerated some really fucking up shit, you know? And I’m not saying it’s good or healthy, in fact I really hope I’ve gotten the opposite point across. But, also, I don’t know, no one’s perfect, you know? You end up regretting some decisions you’ve made, but you’re allegedly only going to REALLY be haunted by what you left undone, in the end. That’s what they say anyway. Plus, what was I going to say, I keep an anon-a-blog about my abusive childhood? Yeah, that’ll really lighten the mood of any room.

I’ve also made the decision that when I do publish, I won’t use the name Cassie Stevens. This is something separate from what my writing career ~might~ one day be. I don’t want THIS being linked with THAT. Sorry, but as obsessive architect/control freak, I truly must insist on it being this way.

Last December, just a bit after Christmas, I legally changed my last name to my husband’s. We’ve been married three and a half years, at this point, but I just did it now. I didn’t tell him until his birthday, on January fourth, and he was very moved by it. Which was so my intention. At first I didn’t want to change my name, because I didn’t think it was fair that I, the wife, was the one who had to go through an obnoxious identity change at the middle of my twenties. But you know what won out, over that? The idea that I wouldn’t have the same last name as my dad. So, sad to say, that truly is what motivated that. So, I will publish under some combination of my first name, middle name, or their initials, and my now real very common last name. My first last name was as rare as my married name is common, I’ll give it that. It’s one of the reasons I liked it. My labs or customer accounts were never getting mixed up with anyone else’s. Now, it could definitely happen.

But, in less dark news. I bought a standing desk. Well, more like an extensive laptop stand. I’ll post a picture, since i like picture with diary/journal/blog entries. I like it, because it was worrying me that I was going to be spending 12 extra hours a week in a chair, staring at a computer. I already do that 42 hours a week at work. So now at least I’m standing or stretching one leg on a kitchen chair while I work on it. And this.

Also, in fun news, my work thing last Saturday when I really did myself up (see pic from last time) went well, though of course I got inappropriately wasted. Imagine. Me, drinking too much in a social situation….yeah…I’ll pause for the shock to wear off…..

No, nothing fun or sexual or swinger-y happened, le sigh. What can you do? There’s always dreamin’

Also in fun news, I signed up for a pole dancing class. It’s just an intro. It’s an hour, tomorrow at noon. I’m hoping I like it, I’m always looking for exercise I actually enjoy, because then I’ll actually do it. Like biking, indoors, on my stationary bike, in front of my TV, with a La Croix and a bowl….just like I like. But maybe this pole dancing class will work. MAYBE, the loser said, I’ll meet someone to hang out with there too. I’m kind of hoping. I was hoping a little for the writing class, but not as much as the pole dancing. The other two participants at the writing course (there was supposed to be a fourth who didn’t show) were both women. One was I’d guess late forties, the other was probably younger than me, but she was married. Both were nice enough, but we were all definite introverts. It’s weird when we’re around one another in public, because there’s just nothing but heavy awkward silence. The speaker seemed to think my hyper-protective stance over what I was actually working on was comical. We had him sign our books, because I think it’s cool to have an author-signed book, and he was like ” Good luck on your writing, whatever it is!” I was like oh ha ha ha ha ha, very funny, Don. I get it, I’m weird. That’s so the first time I’ve been told that.

So tomorrow pole dancing class. I also want to finish my new resume and start applying for other jobs, because I’m really sick of living in this area, and really the only thing I came down here for was to go to grad school, and that’s been over almost three years now.

BUT, I want to write more than work on the resume, so I should go do that first. And I’ unfortunately only twenty minutes in. So….quite a bit to go, I’d say. But I know I can do it. And we already go grocery shopping and picking up my car from Belle Tire out of the way.

Sidenote – when you have a standing desk, you really do feel the need to pompously think about how fucking healthy you’re being right now.

It’s fun

So can life be, even when many, many, many, many, many parts of it are an utter suckfest.

It’ll be two weeks tomorrow, it was my mom’s 60th birthday. I didn’t even get to see her. She’s two hours away. But I refuse to see or speak to my dad. There’s no being mentally healthy with someone like him in your life, so decisions have to be made, am I right?

Sorry to end on a bummer, but that’s me, right?

Hope you’re all doing well

PS  – the second picture is my husband and my bestest kitty – I was leaving for work one day and I was like, aww my favoritest boys are snoozing together….must take picture…..




He can’t text me back anymore because his phone died. He can’t charge his phone because he lost the charger i (laughably) charged on our Menards card because i grew tired of him taking my charger. I noticed his lack of battery this morning and put his phone in airplane mode, to get some charge before i left. He took it off of said charger a few minutes later not knowing why i did what i did, or just not noticing. So he was at 30% when i left, despite efforts both great and small on my part to keep HIS phone charged.

Why dont we have two chargers? Well we cant afford to go buy a second one. I charge one and his idiotic ass loses it less than a month later. Why dont we get a cheap one from a gas station? Because those can fuck up your phone and ruin it, and you better believe we REALLY cant afford to buy a new phone.

So i cant even text him, the cause of all this bullshit.

We were going to meet for lunch at a Thai place i really like. I was really excited. I left my packed lunch at home. Then i checked our bank balanace at my 10 o’clock break. We have $2.95 left. No lunch date. No eating for me at all. I have a fresh bag of disgusting coffee at work, so i’ll make do.

Hes making so little money right now his last paycheck was for $270, for two weeks. Such a goddamn joke. So for the past two weeks ive been BARELY scrapping us by. Having to portion and ration and allocate and scrape and scrimp, i can do it i guess but MY GOD is it disheartening. After all these years. After working so hard. No matter what you CAN say about me, you cant call me lazy.

We got our federal tax return a few days ago. The tax burden placed on us is unreal. The return was JUST enough to cover my federal student loan payment. Sickening, isnt it? So instead of getting reemed really bad on a late loan payment i used all of it on the 7th, the day the loan was due. The hope was that the payment wouldnt withdraw until friday when my husbands next paycheck would direct deposit. I have to go to the bank every friday because my employer will not do direct deposit. So often we NEED the money on my paycheck that Friday. Its all gone to bills and the meager groceries we need to live before the weekend is even over.

Just last month we finished paying off our 2016 back taxes ($200/month) because he couldnt fill out a W4 correctly.

So the loan payment withdrew today. It wasnt late. But now i cant eat. My husband said he would make me something and bring it. Dont let that fool you. Its his father talking, the obnoxious offerer of annoying, unusable suggestions. We have nothing to bring. I well know what food is in our house. He said it seemed like i was intentionally making this worse. I told him id forgotten about my contractual obligation to always be cheerful. Then he gave up. I can bring ALL of his complaints about me down to some expectation of perfection on his part.

Speaking of that.

So you know that we’ve been trying to conceive. Well last night and the night before were two important nights to fuck. First night after some effort he was able to get hard, then, “right before” hes going to come, his dick goes limp. Cue fifteen minutes of him awkwardly yanking at himself to no avail. Then last night, he couldnt even get an erection. He got close, but that time between him coaxing one out (coax is the wrong word, its both timid and violent) and going to put it in, thats long enough to lose it. Then again, lie there while he tries to jack one on, so to speak.

Why dont i suck it?


For the entirety of our relationship, hes had ED. He blamed the drinking and the pills (antidepressants) at first.

After SO many sexually unsatisfied years, a person is going to grow bitter. Why should i be dying to strain my neck and road rash the inside of my mouth because he cant get it up? Because he jacks off to porn three times a day.

Last night, after being told he was obviously trying to pick a fight with me (because of course i want to lashed out at just then) he stormed out. But not before telling me that i needed to say something comforting and i just laid there instead.

NEWSFLASH, DIPSHIT, im incredibly frustrated, NO part of me was worried about soothing his ego last night.

The excuse for the last two nights was he was tired. Because he stays up very late at night playing video games/falling asleep on the couch. He didnt add that second part, but it is certain sure fact.

I guess from the sounds of it, i shouldnt want a kid with him. But im married and im 30. Why dont i get to have a baby because we dont have the money? How much longer do i wait for him to grow up?

Im so hungry. The coffee is giving me a headache. I could have borrowed money from a coworker, i guess, but the thought of humiliating myself like that, on top of everything else, id start crying before i even started. My mom would ALWAYS make ME go beg. Not her, she was embarrassed. Even into adulthood. Can your boyfriend’s parents help with your car insurance? We told you we would cover it while you put yourself through college, but of course that was bullshit, my dad talking loudly so others would hear.

Im hungry. Itll be all right when i get home. But why, WHY, is that all my life is? Just get through high school, then you’ll be able to get away from him. Just get through college, then you’ll get a good job and will be stable, a new sensation in your life. Just wait for your husband to finish college, then hell start actually contributing instead of the opposite. Just wait until he finds a job. Just wait until….and then….Theres no then.I just wasted an hour upsetting myself.Maybe i deserve constant frustration, for some reason i cannot see

Being born isn’t an achievement

But some people get rewarded like it is. I guess I shouldn’t point fingers. A lot of people would look at me and be like “sure, there was no genetic gambling that you won big on….” My mom always says “it’s too bad we were born beautiful and not rich” and of course she means it as a joke, but it’s like…kind of true in my case. It’s funny because younger me never would have guessed I’d grow up to be this confident (say arrogant if you must, I don’t mind the label, plus any of my astute readers have a real good idea of why I’m insecure and arrogance is the veil of the insecure soooooo….) . See because I used to take the constant social rejection as a sign I just wasn’t good looking enough. Yeah, I don’t think that was it. But I mean I still lived with my narcissistic psychopath of a dad back then, so it made every aspect of my life warped, including my perception of the behavior of others, and my ability to express emotions in a proper or healthy way. Okay we all know I still have extreme trouble with that second one but bear with me, I’m only 30. Well almost. We are still trying to get pregnant. I saw my in laws on Sunday and out of the blue my MIL brought up that she would pay for daycare if we had kids, because she doesn’t want us to not have kids because we’re worried about paying for them. She said it’s not because she wants grandkids but because she knows we’d be great parents. That’s my in laws, always dropping this mind blowing generosity on us/me. I had like a fairy tale wedding(as much as they know about it) and it was solely due to them.

Okay gotta to work now, these were just some pre work thoughts I had about how unfair it is that some people are just born fucking rich as fuck. What dicks.