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…..

 

~Cassie

Frustration

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?

BECAUSE IT WONT HELP

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.

~Cassie