I’m at it again. I’d say someone stop me, but in the past I have NOT responded well to that.

I did one of the weird things that I do. Like I began to notice patterns in my behavior years ago (when I left my parents house, when I was away from the grating racket long enough to hear my thoughts, so on and so forth) but I’m still kind of like….but why? At most of it.

But the thing I did?

Even though I knew it wouldn’t make me happy, I did it anyway.

It’s always some weird version of consumption with me, anyway, isn’t it?

I spent a bunch of money, knowing that it wouldn’t make me feel better, but in fact might make it worse due to guilt, but I still did it anyway. Because nothing actually makes you feel better, but like, you might as well get/have shit you want, right? So goes my poor person for life logic.

What’s got me down? Nothing more than the usual shit. I’m always lonely. I really miss my mom. She’s two hours away but I haven’t seen her in three years. I think my husband has an undiagnosed psychological disorder…possibly plural there. I’m kind of (or just am) a raging alcoholic. The arduous work and turmoil that’s been the general tone of my life up until this point. The total lack of friends. The idea that I’ve worked a lot and for a long time and have no financial indication of such effort going on. The idea that if I want to actually have children I should probably get on that soon but also the idea of having an infant/child to care for and raise sounds HORRIBLE and life-ruining and most days I’m like eh, can’t afford kids anyway…darn…guess I better keep doing what I like with my time.

But that’s all pretty normal, I think, except for the my mom stuff. And there’s nothing I can do about that situation, so I’ve kind of moved on. Sort of. It still makes me really sad. But I mean, so? Some things suck.

But, lets discuss WAY more interesting shit, what I bought:

1) New winter coat. I wore a boring puffy coat the past two winters. I wanted a fancy pea coat that isn’t as warm but looks way nicer. The one I bought has a faux fur collar. It was over half off (So $99)
2) Since I was already on JC Penney.com, I was like well, better get more concealer while I’m at it
3) Since I was on the Sephora section of JCP.com I was like…better get good mascara…..
4) Then, this one is more confusing, I was like…I should buy foundation. I haven’t purchased foundation in at least five years. Since before we got married. It’s obviously a cool thing to have, but I don’t really need it, because I have no reason to get ready for anything. The last time I did a full face of make up was Halloween…then that one Saturday right before Halloween I went out (and I don’t see that scenario occurring again) so…..why did I buy it? It might not seem like such an important question, but the shit I buy is $39. So. More important than $8 foundation.
5) Two new pairs of glasses. I paid out of pocket for an eye exam in February, and was like…yep…gonna get on buying glasses off Zenni with that prescription anytime here…. and finally was like you know what fuck it. I haven’t purchased new glasses in….at least seven years. The prescription is pretty much still the same so that’s not the biggest deal in the world, but still. I didn’t know what kind of glasses to buy for my face shape, namely because I didn’t know my face shape. It’s diamond. That’s why I didn’t know it, that’s not one of the common ones.

So yeah. I’m at it again like always I guess. I at least bought some practical stuff. Not stuff I TOTALLY needed…but…eh. Stuff I sort of needed.
So you could take this as a weird list of stuff I spent $300 on.

Or you could see what I see. That I picked up on patterns of love/affection from the only stable people in my life when I was a child, that things/food=love. I’d blame my Grandma, it sort of is her fault, with her cold ass German upbringing, But she was the only reason I had a remotely normal childhood…so…should I really be finding fault with this woman?

I tried building a memory palace once. It seemed like a good idea. But, idk, it’s so visual. If I’m visualizing something, it’s CF, or the story for after the CF series, or me fucking, I’m not building a memory palace. Maybe I don’t need one? I feel like I should. If you aren’t awesome like me and DON’T know what one of those is…well first I would STRONGLY recommend you purchase these books and read them in this order (Red Dragon, Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, Hannibal Rising). If you don’t want to read all that, which, I wouldn’t get why, but okay, Hannibal Lecter has a memory palace that he visits, and most of it is the expected hyper classy fanciness, but there’s parts he can’t control. Oubliettes, they’re called. What’s fucking eerie is I read Silence of the Lambs, where Hannibal describes them as “bottle shaped rooms with a trap door at the top” – in Hannibal’s memory palace, there are oubliettes that he cannot contain, filled with shit, with the memories he can’t stop, and when he’s distressed, particularly when his sense of smell is assaulted. And then right after SOL I read Daisy Miller…and what the fuck gets mentioned in there? Fucking oubliettes again. When Daisy and the narrator go visit that one castle together, Daisy stands at the edge of the of an oubliette and cries with dismay or whatever, and the footnote says something along the lines, “dungeons accessible through a trap door at the top, for forgetting prisoners.”

So, that weird foray into literature is brought to you by the idea that I tried to make a memory palace. But the only positive places from my childhood are my Grandma’s apartment, and my bedroom, alone, all by myself, with my cat and all my toys. Those are the two places. I mean I liked the library in my school, and the public library by my house, but the other kids/people, the my mom bitching that she had to drive me to and from the library….so lesser than the first two places I mentioned.

So what I’m saying is, in Hannibal Lecter terms, saying someone’s apartment is the largest portion of your memory palace is really making a statement.

So I try not to fault my Grandma for the ways she specifically made me fucked up. Or my mom. The two of them were/are actual humans who loved me. W is just a fucking monster and J is just soooo fucked up and saddening. And that’s the list, besides my best friend and husband, and that’s different.

So, I’m using my positive relationship with my Grandma as a means of excusing spending excessive amounts of money on myself, because that’s how she showed affection, that and overfeeding. That’s a grandparent thing, and a German thing, so there was no hope there.

At the same time, whatever. I work a lot. Possibly I deserve some nice things.

That’s all I got.

I literally have ZERO idea how I’m still awake.

I did a standard Friday caffeine intake. First pot of coffee from 6am-8am, second pot of coffee 8am-10am, third 1pm-3pm, then I had four shots of espresso in a drink from Starbucks around 8:30pm. This is standard level for me. Beer wise, I had one tall can (Coors light) before the grocery store (Starbucks and grocery store coincided, duh) then two more tall cans after, and I just finished a regular bottle of Modelo especial. I’m going to be pissed if I drink all of my Saturday beer tonight. But like I don’t feel fucked up or tired. Am I magic? Of course I’ve been smoking weed…but…it’s been a LONG LONG time since I’ve legit felt fucked up from weed. Like. For real. But anyway. I SHOULD go to bed.

I’m going to try and truly crank out the writing this weekend.

OH.

Something else I bought, finally, pole classes! I’m going back on Sunday. It feels like it’s been 10,000 years. I think it’s been 6 weeks. But up until 6 week ago, I was going EVERY Sunday for like eight months. But back to it on Sunday. So excited, but also unexcited about how sore my arms are going to be. But so worth it.

Well, I should be off.

Have a good weekend. Enjoy the cold weather. I like how it makes me want to cuddle. All summer long I was like “Get the fuck away from me,” whenever my cats or my husband were trying to get affectionate. Now it’s enjoyable. Plus it makes you want to be inside more, which is appealing to me in many ways as it is. Clearly all of my life activities revolve around being inside.

Anyway. Have a good weekend. Love you.
~Cassie

What the goddamn fucking shit is going on with this past week, am I on some sort of reality TV show right now?

Just absorb the message of that email:

I’ve gotten three reviews from this exact boss before. This is first time she’s ever requested we do so on a Saturday…and for the specific reason that she wants to do it when no one else is there…..BUT WHY.

I guess if I walk in on Saturday and someone from HR is with her I’ll know. She said it’ll take “approximately thirty minutes.” I’m literally filled with questions and confusion and dread. OMFG it’s been the week for those feelings, hasn’t it???

Like, I would love to say I’m not upset and angry about shit. But I am. I wish I wasn’t. If there was something I could magically fucking do to stop consistently thinking about the same shit, I would do it. I mean I tried rage stigmata, but my hands aren’t strong enough not like they were when I was a kid. At least now I just have to hold it together at work. My husband is good, VERY good, about emotional support. That and his unique status as the first/only guy to ever EVER appreciate me for the awesome person I am are why I’m still with him AND married to him AND took his last name. Again, these things did not occur magically, they are possibly my hardest “earned things that aren’t things” as I like to call them. Like my friendship with my best friend, which most people don’t have with someone from the 8th grade. Or the fact that my ENTIRE life people have been telling me I’m a strong/talented/good writer. Or that my husband tells me all the time that I’ll always have a husband who loves me.

Oh my fucking god, like WHAT IS THIS WEEK? Do you realize how normal and happy and excited I felt last Thursday compared to today?

You know what I found TRULY unfair? How misery doesn’t burn calories. I mean, it should, right? You can say the whole lost-my-appetite-due-to-sadness and yes that does happen to me all the time but I’m still an alcoholic who truly prefers beer. Jesus I haven’t worked out in like a week. But it’s cool because I haven’t been able to afford pole classes in a month. It’s $75 for 4, and it’s $ I just haven’t had. Which is so fucking embarrassing and pathetic. I’m thirty, I’ve been working since I was 16, I worked full time through a bachelors and a masters….and I’ve been living paycheck to paycheck the entire time. My husband is a barista. Yeah. I work REALLY hard at not comparing myself to others…which is good….because I really often think about how no one else I know rents anymore or drives the car they had when they were 19. But whatever. I’d trade actual, genuine friendships/FWB over that other shit. But spoiler I don’t get that either. I see my best friend roughly three times a year, on a good year.

Why doesn’t crying burn calories? It goddamn should. All it does is make my under-eye area super puffy, then the next day it’s a little more wrinkled than it was. How DEEPLY unfair is it that crying causes eye wrinkles???? Like…clearly I already HAVE problems please no more.

Speaking of, I read something that said donating blood burns a shit ton of calories and prevents cancer.

Do you think that last one is true, or is it like Red Cross propaganda? The calories makes sense because like…they steal a pint of your blood and all.

The game plan.

I am on my first tall can.

I have one more.

Before he goes to spar, I’m going to ask my husband to get my the shit for my favorite mixed drink. Prepare yourselves, because I’m about to reveal how trash I really am. It’s rum (a cheap one, because we’re broke AF like always on Thursdays, so probably Castillo…yeah….Castillo.) and wild cherry pepsi on ice. Don’t tell me that isn’t perfect and amazing. But it’s probably just as calorie-laden as beer.

BUT the drunk from booze is different than beer drunk. Personally, I HATE wine drunk. I know, revoke my vagina right now. Like most people I don’t like who I become on tequila, I don’t like any of the “brown” liquors (despite LOVING the phrase “stuff it down with brown,” I just pretend it pertains to beer…although I only like light beers like pilsners or heffeweizens or kolsch. OMFG I love Kolsch beer. Okay I sound like one of the pretension douches. Get this straight, 90% of the time I drink Coors Light from the can. I don’t even pour it in a glass because then I have to wash that glass.

So I’m going to get very, very drunk tonight. I work at 6am tomorrow, and it’s going to be a day spent ENTIRELY thinking about how my boss is making me drive to work an EIGHTH time this week to give me my review when no one else is around. There’s literally no chance it’s for a GOOD reason. W used to do this to me. He’d have to break away from a lecture/screaming session because the POS needs to chill out all the time (by “chill out” I mean sit and watch TV and drink coffee and chew tobacco and get high on pain meds/booze) THEN when he’s done chilling out…if he doesn’t feel the need to nap (thank god W never had a job to get in the way of his lifestyle) it was right back to it. I’d be in my room, or watching TV in a room separate from the room HE watched TV in…and there he’d come, charging in, all angry (even moreso this time because you know, heightened level of fucked up-ed-ness) just to bring it up all over again, and just keep saying the same shit over and over. That’s part of his I’m-going-to-wear-you-down-mentally play. W never stopped being a shitbag cop. No one knows this more than his family. With my mom, he’d come charging into the room where she was attempting to dissociate and say, “AND ANOTHER THING,” that’s how he always started it. Like…keep that fight going…don’t let bad feelings die…bring up mistakes someone made 5 years ago when you’re mad at them for something completely unrelated….just you know, the mean (WOW that was a mistype but a spooky one…) the MANY things he did on a constant basis that I grew up thinking were normal. I was the only one smart enough to get away out of the four of us. I guess W’s way out is a little dark, but you know what the fucker chose his lot in life when he ruined my childhood and my brother’s sanity.

This is why, more than ANYTHING else, I’ve so far controlled my urges to contact N again. Because I’m seriously obsessed by the idea.

Not over sex.

Please.

Do I LOOK desperate? Look at my ass in this dress. You could crack walnuts with that thing.

IMG_0150_Moment.jpg

BUT, like….I fucking NEED beta readers. And who else do I know who’s smart besides my very busy best friend? My husband is already my very first reader.

Is this me lying to myself?

IDK. I don’t think so?

I don’t mean to be mean but like….it’s not like the guy is SO good-looking I can’t be around him without it getting weird for my hypersexual self. Like the MEGA fine director who sits by me who says good morning to me on certain mornings. I literally cannot look at him and talk to him at the same time without turning SO red. We had a guy in sales, one who I had to work with because I remove sold units when the buyers come get them, and EVERY time he came over and talked to me, I could feel my face turning red as the conversation went on. Omg he was so cute. I added him on Linked In and he never accepted. He left the company kind of bitterly, but he bothered to come over and say good-bye to me when he said he was probably going to be leaving because he asked for more money and if he didn’t get it he was leaving. SO tragic the day Donnie left. I said his name. It’s common enough I guess. So, I don’t have all that going on with N. Plus I’m great at looking terrible when I want to. It’s a skill if you’re trying not to get creeped on. Not saying N was creepy with me…in fact the opposite…if taunting someone with sex (twice!) is the opposite of being a creeper.

So. I could potentially see asking him to read CF (nickname clusterfuck).

But then part of my brain is like What are you doing? Do you WANT to have to kick yourself later? Why do you love that SO Cassie, mmm? Do you know? Why are you intent on pursuing the men who behave as if you couldn’t possibly matter that much to them?

I always know.

I’d say that’s the deepest loss in all of this.

God I CANNOT stop obsessing over this.

It’s just like when I was like….8-12 years younger than I am now.
Well that’s probably not the best sign.

SIGH.

Well, I think I’m going to finish this night out by writing maybe another page – because side note I want to try and write every day in November – then I’m going to drink heavily and play Friday the 13th online, which is a dope game, if you’re so inclined to gaming.

‘Til next time

The soon to be unemployed

~Cassie

Drip drop

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

This is the most acutely lonely I’ve felt in a long time.

There are days I wonder. Is having a husband who really loves me already asking for too much? I mean I know about twenty people who aren’t happy with their spouse/life so, I don’t think it’s a standard thing. Jesus look at my parents. Enough said.

So, is being happily married (might I underline, being happily married now…..in no way did it begin as such) more than I should hope for? Or is it normal that I feel such a longing for something more?

For my adult life, I’ve felt like the loneliness of childhood didn’t go anywhere. I still carry it around with me everywhere. I’m still a needy child in certain ways. It’s not easy to detect, because Idontmeantobrag but I’m pretty mature, because I had to be freaking mature to get by. Also the usual had-to-parent-my-parents shit.

Or maybe I just think any normal measure of wanting attention/affection is needy and childish because…well, obvious reasons.

I haven’t felt the need to write this prolifically since I was a teenager.

But, I’ve been experiencing some pretty fucking teenage emotions these past few days…so. I guess that explains it.

There’s only so much disappointment one can handle in a week.

I’m waiting out traffic before I go back to work and reclaim my possessions from work Halloween. DEAR GOD am I glad that that is over with. As much as I like getting done up for something, I was fucking dying to wash my make up off all day.

Which got me thinking.

This morning, as I spent roughly an hour and a half getting ready, as I had so recently, it really got me thinking.

There’s something I find naturally pleasing about wearing make up, especially a lot of it to the point it hides your exterior flaws and highlights the good features. There’s just something really pleasing and right to me about wearing a mask, especially one that sits right on your skin like that. Because that’s what make up is, in more than one way. At least to me. There’s the cosmetic benefits, but there’s also the secondary distance you build between yourself and others when you’re doing something to highlight your beauty. Or so I’ve always found. Again I don’t totally know what the experience of an unattractive person is. I feel like everyone gets treated like shit for no reason (on a varying scale of frequency) no matter what they look like.

And honestly, even though I’m freakishly vocal on that subject (IDK, it’s the one part of my life I’ve always been okay with…so fucking sue me) I also like….am NOOOOOT the kind of person who uses their looks to their advantage. I mean, if I want to bang someone I’m going to attempt to present myself pleasingly, but like…idk, there’s a lot of people, women especially who learn too early how easy it is for them to get things/be treated well compared to others for no reason other than their accidental looks, whatever grab bag their genetic lottery pulled together. At least when a person is stupid toned you’re like…ah well I see you hit the gym while I’m on my ass on a computer which is whenever I’m awake, pretty much.

I haven’t written in SO LONG. This past weekend was fucked. When I wasn’t super happy and excited, followed by extreme bafflement and disappointment, I was working on fucking Halloween crafts. So burned out on like…my emotions, and crafting. I feel like my characters miss me. As fucking lunatic crazy as that sounds.

But.

Okay since I couldn’t control myself from returning the subject.

I figured out why I was so devastated about the N thing.

Yeah, I was looking forward to the sex. I mean, I couldn’t possibly be the only one who likes finding out what someone is like in bed. Plus, N painted a pretty promiscuous picture of himself, and the more sexual experience a person has, the better. Or so I’ve found with my HUGE list of partners. (It’s 10 dudes), the more experience the better. I imagine women are the same.

So, yeah, the sex. But also. Out of those ten guys….the first time I had sex with them worked out well in….two of the instances.

My first boyfriend would “always jerk off twice” before having sex so he would “last longer.” So he did that, my first time having sex ever, and then because he was on his third hard-on, while we were having sex, he kept losing his erection, going into the bathroom, coming back, again and again, until he came back in and just got dressed and didn’t say anything. We lied there in my bed in my parents house (the three of them were at a Tigers game) in silence until we left to see X-3 (the X-men movie from 2006) because I’d already purchased the tickets. I had to ask him on the drive over there what happened. He was a weird, weird asshole about the whole experience. As if it were SOMEHOW my fault. Also, looking back, who is like SO worried about railing some poor girl whose idiotically chosen you as her first partner? So fucking dumb. It was something he “had a reputation for” at his high school (we went to different high schools), this ability to last a very long time sexually.

I was far too young and naive and fucking achingly desperate to have a boyfriend, to have an emotional connection with someone outside of my fucked, fucked, fucked family. Of course I picked like….a TERRIBLE fucking choice….but whatever.

It just made me realize, as I typed this, that I can’t really stand it when I have to drag something out of someone. Like just fucking tell me. I thought we did that.

You know what time I remember dragging something out of my husband? July 2017, when a doctor’s bill in the mail alerted me to something he’d done a month before. Something I guess he was never planning on telling me about because he lacked the fucking balls. I don’t know how I would have behaved in that situation, because I never met a perfect stranger from Craig’s List for sex like he did. Then, I still had to drag it out of him when I couldn’t figure out what this doctor’s bill was for. He said he knew he was caught, and didn’t know what to do, and was panicking, which was why he tried to evade me at first. But, like I’ve said before, I could tell something was very wrong by how pale he’d gotten when he looked at the bill.

Then, just this past Sunday I had to do it again.

I guess I shouldn’t hold it SO out of sort….given that it seems to be typical male behavior, in my life. Which is funny…because….why?

But anyway.

Back to why I know I’m truly bothered by N and how that panned out, besides the fact that I was lied to, and that he did the world’s worst 180 in the history of date psych-outs. Those are things I will get over in time. Like now they piss me off. But I know how I feel about things that once made me angry.

What bothers me, what like literally hurts, as much as I hate that phrasing, is that I was able to be totally be 100% max Cassie around him…and it was totally fine…it was fun….it was SO fun he changed his mind about being able to sleep with me because it’d get too complicated because of an emotional connection. I’m paraphrasing his explanation that I had to fucking request. And like…because I could be myself…I mean that also involves letting your guard down, no? So it was the strange level of vulnerability on multiple levels…and like….at SOME fucking point, in the course of less than five hours….yeah…..just…..what….omg

So. IDK I guess I sound like I’m still pretty obsessed with this. It’s better than it was. I was still REALLY upset on Monday. Well duh there’s a huge ass blog about it.

But yeah. I realize, that that’s what truly saddens me. It such a rare, rare, rare, rare, rare, rare thing to find someone who can handle/be around/reciprocate max Cassie, as I like to call it. That that person is also a relatively smart guy I know from grad school who I could totally see myself fucking…I mean….am I NOT supposed to be into that? I mean really. I would love to take a goddamn poll. Ha that’s one of those verbal double entendre. But yeah don’t worry I still have plenty of sex. My husband has like a teenage libido. I think it’s all the testosterone from working out. IDK I’m not doctor. I don’t talk about my husband with my doctor best friend because she doesn’t really like him, from knowing about the shit he’s done. And she doesn’t even know about Craig’s List.

Well, that’s it. That’s why I’m still so obsessive and bothered by the N thing.

Zero idea how long it’ll take before I don’t feel bothered about it. Like I never do about anything.

All right, I’ve wasted enough time.

Peace

~Cassie

N, or No, but really though

Okay. I think I’ve discussed it enough with the two people in the world I trust (besides my moms, but she’s different, I don’t burden her with my life) and I THINK I figured some shit out as to why I was SO FUCKING UPSET today and yesterday.

Luckily, I have the world’s chilliest best friend (she rewards you for positive behavior with kindness/more attention than your whining ass was getting…it’s hilarious to watch when you know it’s coming) and the world’s warmest husband. IDK how I’d still function without the too-much-one-way approach they both take.

So. What happened that upset me so much? Ha. Okay. See if you can keep up.

N, guy from grad school, not to be confused with R, and I had been flirting hard for about a week over DM/text. You know the thing I alluded to being excited about? Well, blog, I know you knew it had to do with fucking, but yeah, it was the fun of talking with N on a really regular if not constant basis for about a week. Not long, I get it. We were talking enough so that I felt comfortable enough to ask him if he wanted to hang out this past weekend. He said he was into it. His words. He proposed plans and I agreed. I was super excited.

And, instead of getting into the details, because I don’t want to do that more than I already have mentally and in other blogs that are private, let me just tell you TWO exact quotes from N, spaced 5 hours apart, both of which were said on my couch:

5:30 pm (first arriving to my house) : “So we’re going to have sex….let’s just hang out first.”
That was all well and good. We’d already blantantly discussed fucking over DM. He did. He brought it up.
10pm: “I don’t think we should sleep together. I’m sorry. I feel like a prick. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

What the sweet fucking shit was I supposed to respond?

I was really embarrassed and confused. After he told me what was going on, I was still really embarrassed, but also fucking super pissed and just overwhelmed by how stupid I can fucking be.

I bothered to be myself around someone and to let my guard down and just be honest for once. And THIS happens.

The reasoning behind his massive/sudden change of heart stemmed from his having lied to me from the get-go about the exact situation in his relationship, which is intermittently open….and this was glossed over/straight lied about. He had a PERFECT out, when I asked him if he wanted to get together. He could have said right then that he wasn’t able to do such a thing at this time. OR he could’ve said he wanted to hang out but sex couldn’t be part of it, THEN waited until he was in another “open” period. But N didn’t do that. N just fucking lied to me and made it seem like we were definitely going to fuck (because he literally said the words…more than once….) then at the end of the night gave me a comic book and then was like oh by the way I’m completely not okay with this.

I mean. No one owes anyone sex, ever. And I’m not desperate….do you see me?….but JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. THIS was a weiiiiiiird amount of bullshit.

I do NOT do well when I put myself out there only to be rejected.

NO woman does well with sexual rejection. It’s literally like the one thing we don’t deal with, that and prostate cancer.

I let my guard down, and got fucking socked for it, AGAIN. You’d think I’d goddamn learn, but the day I learn is the day I stop feeling feelings…I think…

It’s a very disappointing thing to happen to anyone.

It’s not easy for me to connect with someone, or want to, AT ALL. Now it was all for nothing.

N could have SO EASILY just like…NOT fucking talked to me and started this whole process. Or he could have just NOT made hang out/fuck around plans with me, like he so definitely did.

That’s what bothers me.

And like…I had to stop myself last night when I was texting him because I didn’t want to be TOO mean because like…I forget only one other person in the world was raised by W, so only Justin (my brother) knows what it’s like to be eviscerated with verbal abuse and threats of physical/sexual abuse on a daily fucking basis. Our mom knows too, but she was a fucking adult then, wasn’t she? My husband tells me how good I am at cutting down, through all the layers, between the bone, with the craft of a surgeon. He doesn’t word it like that, but trust me that’s what he means. So I told N I was going to stop talking to him, but that it fucking destroyed me that this happened because I let my guard down. My fuck all my life has ever done is teach me not to do that. And all I’ve ever done is tell it to fuck off.

Now is no different, of course. I mean….I can’t help but think things along the lines of “Well, YOU’RE the one about to miss out, guy.” Perhaps my arrogance is some strange mental illness I developed to shield myself from the chaos that was my childhood.

But you know what. Adults get to make their own destinies. Even if its just fighting back against what you can’t help/couldn’t stop.  You’re responsible for all of your own shit, but that also means no one gets to take credit for things you do.

I tried teaching R that. But I don’t think he was listening. He was too far gone with alcoholism. Hot as he was. And you know what R NEVER fucking lied to me. It’s really not a good thing when you can’t reach the bar R fucking set.

I shouldn’t be so mean. He did mean a great deal to me at one time. I was always hyper attracted to him.

Like I said, I’m lucky to have my husband around for situations like this. He’s been so great about comforting me through this.

I know it’s fucking fucked that my spouse was consoling me for my “poly” hookup rejecting me hard, but it’s what fucking happened, all right?

I had to ask for an explanation.

When I said I’d stop talking to him, N said “Thank you.”

So. Yeah.

That went well.

The comic book still seriously confuses me. Like why. I have so many questions.

But it’s like N doesn’t get how hurt I was by what he did. I don’t think he gets it at least.

My husband tried helping me figure out what it was that fucking upset me so much. He was like, was it your self esteem? Did you just want to fuck? Were you super into this guy? Was it just wanting something to look forward to?

I’m not sure. But again, it was nice having him be there for me.

Still. One can’t help but wonder why you couldn’t have just been left alone if this was how it was going to go. Did rejecting me make N feel better about some shitty part of his life? Did he seriously just think he would be able to convince himself sleeping with me fell under the “okay” category when he “realized he wasn’t comfortable with it” hours into our meeting up? Then of course there were his many mentions that it freaked him out that we got along too well and talked too easily. But oh don’t worry he acknowledged that that’s a self-defeating loop that’s super unfair to me so I feel super not stung by that.

I wish I wasn’t so upset by this.

I wish I didn’t feel like this.

I wish I wasn’t so bothered. And hurt.

 

Also….I wish I could afford therapy……might be able to unpack why I only look forward to casual sex anymore….or why it means SO MUCH to me that someone would bother even paying attention/talking to me….

Yes….so…so….hard to figure out…..

But just because you know the cause of your feelings, that doesn’t mean you can fucking stop them, now does it?

 

 

~Cassie

I have several startling confessions I’d like to make in a row

I’m happy, you know? I spend every day doing about the same thing and it’s great. I’m going to be completely honest and tell you because this is my weird, boring diary:

5:20 A.M. (4:30 on Mondays and Fridays): Wake up

7am (6am M & F) – 4 pm : Work

Have 12pm-1pm lunch break, spent either editing a few pages of my current book in progress (code name – CF) or reading. This week I’ve mostly been reading Silence of the Lambs. I read Red Dragon and clearly 100% had to read SOTL right away after.

4-6ish – work out – I come home and handle a few household things, then change into my work out clothes and smoke weed. Then I either use my indoor bike, do yoga, or do a pole dance warm up and practice because I can do all of that while watching TV in my living room. I’ve been watching the subtitled version of Sailor Moon on Hulu. It’s amazing. I watched most of the entire series when I was between I think 9th and 10th grade, and it’s meant a lot to me even before then. I went through a LOT of fixations/obsessions of things when I was younger. One day I’ll give you a list.

6-8ish – Writing – Right now I’m transcribing. So I printed my first rough draft that I already showed y’all a picture of, then I edit it with pen (in my car, as mentioned above or at my kitchen table), then I type all of that from scratch. It’s a TON of extra time, but it really helps with pacing and catching typos that your eye doesn’t catch, at least at first.

8-10 – Sometimes this bleeds into writing time, but this is why I feed us. So either making dinner at home, or procuring it some other way. I get hella shameful sometimes with how often we eat out. I’ve been trying to get way better at it…but let me tell you, it’s really easy to just not make dinner and have a mess to clean up, especially in my no-dishwasher rental house.

Then, as you can tell by the time I get up in the morning, I need to get to bed at a reasonable time every night.

And that’s my life. I write as much as I can, and I don’t get how anyone with kids or any sort of life could possibly do such a thing. I know they do, though, that’s what I’m saying.

The weekends…honestly…this is depressing to admit any everything, but pretty much every single weekend, I go TWO places:
1) Either Friday night, if I’m not too exhausted after working 6am-4pm, or on Saturday morning between 7-11am I will get groceries. I will NOT go to a grocery store when it is busy. I WILL NOT. I worked too many hours retail to be able to handle that anymore.

2) Sunday at noon, for one hour, I’m at my pole dancing gym. It’s $18.75/class so I really can’t afford to go more often than that.

But other than that, most weekends, I do nothing else. So as you can see, I’m afforded many hours to write. Thank god I don’t have any friends to hang out with or social obligations or children to look after……

I’m an odd mix, because I really do crave normal, healthy relationships with other people…but I mean, how does one go about forging such things in adulthood?
Look at anyone’s groups of friends/people they spend time with – take away coworkers, relatives and people from high school, and then let me know how many are left. Because I have a hunch. Well, I don’t have any of those people. Well I have coworkers but I do NOT have a hang-out relationship with any them, which was untrue of all of my previous jobs. I was crazy close with coworkers for certain periods of time in my life. I lived with and worked with the same chick. We’re still acquaint-a-friends. And, again, of course no kids. I am WELL aware how much spare time that affords me.

Every weekend I have to stop myself from losing myself in a cleaning black hole. I have a tiny house and five cats, my husband is messy, I cook dinner all the time. I’m more an obsessively organized person, sometimes I let cleanliness slack, only a little. I kind of have to because it would take all of my energy to keep up on it to the point where I’m happy with it. I have to content myself with malcontent, like always, right? I’m so many different fucking oxymorons rolls into one, aren’t I? Like cynical optimist and organized chaos…need I mention well-organized disarray? I’ve also got this arrogant/insecure thing down pat. Plus I am a fucking WEIRD mix of cool and nerdy. Also, have a few random really high-class traits, but also a mildly trashy upbringing and disposition, but I’m also obsessed with TALKING about how trashy I am…which…is weird…

While I’m listing shit, my most favorite concept is unity and variety. I also love form v. content.

I should go. I’m so drunk. Yeah, GUESS what else I should list. How often I’m fucked up:

1) Smoke weed between getting ready for, and leaving for, work. See this is why this is my super secret super honest anonablog.
2) Smoke weed before working out after getting home
3) Smoke weed and drink beer while writing and then while cooking dinner
4) Smoke weed and drink beer after dinner/before bed

GUESS what I do on the weekend…yes in fact it’s more of the same.
Do you all realize how lucky you are that you’re following this blog? One day, I’m going to be a famous author. I feel it. I can’t tell you more than that. OH wait, also that I’ve openly and privately dedicated my heart and soul to the written word, first and foremost expressed in my debut novel. I was writing when I was eight years old on an electric typewriter. I got a Masters in literature for pretty much no practical reason. I guess some people might not feel like they have a destiny, and that’s too bad for them. But that alone is a part of my life that’s never been unclear or disappointing.

Time for some bad memories AKA I’ve been neglecting you because I’m busy writing a huge fantasy novel

I have a title for it, now. AND I named both the countries. Both of those items have been on the To Do list for so long, I’m almost shocked I’m at this point. Now all that’s left is having the draw the maps, then color them. Then once I’m certain I’ve gotten the exact placements I need, I’m going to paint them. I was actually very into painting (mostly acrylic and watercolor) as a hobby for a few years, pretty much when I was finishing undergrad and for the first year I was out of college before I was like eh this is stupid lets move downstate and I’ll go to grad school. I still have all the supplies, I could get back into it in a minute. Plus I’ve always wanted detailed maps for my own reference, so I don’t factually contradict myself. These are things to be considered. But anyway.

They say the two things that make people most unhappy are living in the past, and comparing yourself to others. I don’t disagree. But, at the same time, isn’t it kind of hard to deal with something that still upsets you, say 14 years after it happened? Also, I’ve always wanted to be able to give two concise stories that sum up the general tone/atmosphere/feeling of my entire life, from like 6th-12th grade. Right when high school ended, well, you all know what I did. But here I’d like to offer two examples, picked at random from my numerous memories of life be truly horrible and shitty to me during that time in my life. Being myself got me punished, big time, on all fronts, so I learned to hide then I never came back out, again on all fronts. It’s fine, because if you’re smart enough you can use that to your incredible advantage. My whole life people have been telling me they can’t tell how I really feel about something, that I seem like I kind of just go along with whatever and am chill about it. Yeah, well good, I guess, but that is NOT AT ALL what’s happening in my mind. But like, my exterior is a good calm over the storm, or something, I guess? Anyway, here’s two examples of how shitty everyone was to me, unprovoked for the most part, when I was a teenager.

First example – how I was treated at school. I’m going to use real names here because, even all these years later, I really don’t care if I offend them. Two friends (who shall remain nameless because I actually still like these two, and they didn’t hear what was said to me, for some reason) were in first hour chemistry, I was not, but they would convene in the chem lab  before school started in the morning along with another friend of theirs who was a MEAN fucking controlling mega-cunt named Alaine who I’D known since the 1st grade, and my friends’ boy interests –  Ben who was in our grade from a different city and Josh, who a senior but someone I had also known for most of my life because he went to my grade school and church.

Well, teenage Cassie made the horrible mistake of starting to join this merry band — I didn’t care for either guy, they were both usually pretty rude/mean to me — or Alaine, but I liked the two other people so I went in to hang out with them and not to stand about the lockers by myself, or go sit alone in my first hour classroom with the teacher. Well, I guess Josh and Ben didn’t like that I started doing that, because the three of them never wanted anyone in their group other than the select 5 — Josh, Alaine, Ben and the other two, who were really, overly, weirdly complacent when they were younger. I know why, now. So, one morning, shortly I developed this habit of conversing with that group in the chem lab before school started, I walk in about two seconds into my morning, Ben says, “Cassie, you’re loud and obnoxious and no one likes you.” Josh immediately adds, “I second that.” I looked over to Alaine, who was sitting very nearby, she makes a BARELY audible, “Aw,” noise, like in some TINY part she felt a little bit bad that that had happened, but she wasn’t about to REFUTE that statement in any way. My other two friends, like I said, didn’t seem to notice or hear.
I don’t think they were expecting me to walk out of the classroom without saying anything else, and then remain completely mute during lunch. Because, you guessed it, they were there then too. Josh actually repeatedly said things about how he couldn’t stand how loud my friend Beth and I were at lunch, but luckily he didn’t have the pull to make my friend (his girlfriend, this is actually my Best Friend, this is what I went through in order to have anything to do with her in high school. She was literally surrounded by shitty people who wanted to control her, like her mother and Alaine and Josh. I don’t mean to sound pompously fucking full of myself but I was the actual true, real friendship out of all of that. Maybe they others could sense that, because they did what they could to keep me away.
I remember so well, the night after Ben/Josh said that to me, I was on AIM like always, and Josh IMs me out of the blue and says something like “I see you were quite stung by something I said today.” Like, I think that is it, verbatim. He literally instant messaged me to rub salt in the wound. I did what I did best and completely deflected him. I was deeply obsessed with this guy named Mike who was my brother’s age, and he came into the high school after class had let out (his dad was a teacher there) and I got to see him. So I told Josh that it didn’t matter anymore because I got to see Mike. I was REALLY open about being into him. But in keeping with the overall shitty quality of my life, he talked to me and hung out with me just enough to lead me on. But, I’ve already told you about him, though I doubt I used him real name. Anyway.

I KNOW this isn’t SO cruel or traumatizing, but I don’t know man, I’m 30 and that shit still bothers me. I know it shouldn’t. But it does. So, what do I do with that? Because any idiot knows pretending that something doesn’t bother you, when it does, it probably what gives you cancer. Or at least a lot of problems stemming from your repressed shit. I mean, I guess it’s why I’m so creative and industrious. If you’re both of those things, once you get firing on all cylinders you’re remarkably capable. There’s drawbacks, of course. I mean my biggest issue is all my “substance abuse” if you will. And then the emotional problems, but I mean…tomato/tomato am I right?

So yeah, that’s about how I got treated by everyone for most of high school. And, I fucking promise, I was NOT mean enough or a big enough of a bitch EVER to deserve the way I was treated.

That’s what it was. What condemned me and saved me, and it’s still doing both to this day. is my constant internal notion that I deserved better than what I had in life, in all regards. My brother has it too. The difference between us is that I am most willing to work very hard to get what I deserve, therefore making it something I earned on my fucking own just like I always had to do everything anyway.

So, now, the second story, of the general tone and feeling one had being a member of my family.

Second Example: This was my junior year in high school. I have a job at the same pet store company I would work for until I was 24, I was on my way to a closing 4-9:30 shift after having gone to school all day. We had 4 cars in a single lane driveway at the time, and it was winter. My dad needed to move my car in a hurry, and for some reason I couldn’t do it. He refused to scrape the ice from car windows, instead he would use a Double Gulp cup to dump hot water from the kitchen sink onto the windshield until it was acceptable. He does exactly that, to my car, to move it. He throws the empty (he thinks) Double Gulp cup onto my passenger seat. On that seat is a paper I need to turn in the next day. I unwisely did not save it. I forget why. I was a child. Forgive me. I somehow see the state my paper is in (illegible) and realize that after I get home from work at 9:50 I have to rewrite this whole thing from memory, because I can’t turn it in as is, and a LOT of it is really blurry.
HERE is where I make a fatal error. Well, not literally fatal, but bear with me. I show that I am upset over something my dad did. You CANNOT understand, this was not done. 1) I was to always be the perfect golden angel child. When I was really young, my dad would ask me if I still loved him and try to hug me in front of my mom when they were fighting. She would get SO angry. I still haven’t figured that one out. But I mean asking her would only upset her, and her life is still so shitty, guys, and he would just say, “That never happened” because that’s literally what he says about everything. But I also will never speak to him for so long as he’s alive, so, you know. Guess I’ll have to  leave that alone until I can afford intensive therapy. Maybe one day. Back to this shitty winter day that just got way worse because of my father’s laziness.
Well, he sees that I’m upset, and I tell you it’s like a mother fucking light switch, he instantly gets REALLY angry with ME for being angry. That’s not allowed. I CANNOT show negative emotions. Like, you don’t understand how true this is. I’m to be out of the way and not taking up any time/money/attention, but if I’m around I better be fucking perfect AND capable to absorbing whatever level of toxic shit any of THEM felt like spewing at me, and believe me with those three it was a lot of the time.
So now I’m getting more and more upset, because now he’s screaming at me, telling me it wasn’t him because the cup was EMPTY when he threw it on the seat. But if you know DG cups, they had an inside ridge, or at least they did back then, and water collects on it, when you first dumps it out, and doesn’t make it out on the first empty, I’m  telling you it was a thing, also, what else could’ve spilled 1/2 cup of water all over my paper? But he refused to believe it, because NOTHING can be his fault, ever (more on that in a moment).
Then, he tells me I better “smarten up about my mood” (I was angry and crying and telling him I had to go to work) or else “we can have this conversation at your work.”
When I was a teenager, on my way to work after going to school all day, my dad got SO pissed at me for getting upset with him for making a mistake, he started threatening to show up at my work to scream at me to embarrass me in front of my boss/coworkers/customers. Because that was VERY much what his threat insinuated. He had a way of doing that.
And, I mention this story, because it’s a time when my brother was actually the cool one. He took the water damaged paper and managed to retype the whole thing for me, so I didn’t have to do it when I got home. So it was over after that, but I remember crying so hard the whole way to work, which wasn’t a long enough drive just then.

 

Yes, those two stories capture it all right. I guess all fine things go through a refining process, don’t they? I guess that’s what my deal is. Like I’m strangely arrogant about certain things, I do get that, but you don’t understand what I’ve done to even get to where I’m at. Most bitches with highly abusive fathers end up marrying their father (so to speak) and that’s like the opposite of what I did.

But, I have a small snippet of an email to show you, so you can see firsthand how little my mother’s suffering because of him is over. And, I mean, I don’t have people in my life who are shitty to me, friend or surrogate friend, because I have like no one in my life. My best friend is distant in every possible way, which is just her way so it’s fine, but you know, I have no regular companions, besides my husband. If I had to choose between him and friends, I would choose him, but thing is I don’t have to. He isn’t at all the reason I have no one in my life. He’s actually always encouraging me to make friends, but that’s kind of hard because I pretty go to 1) work, 2) grocery store 3) pole dancing gym. I thought maybe I’d meet someone there, but alas, that doesn’t seem meant to be.

I mean, I’m writing a book in additional to a regular working adult life, who kind of lives paycheck to paycheck. I mean, I get the bills paid, but aside from my 10% unmatched 401K I have no savings. Hopefully this book thing turns out, right? Even though, I mean, the only real reason I want to write it is a selfish one. Like, it’s all for me. All the writing, this, the books I’ll produce as the years go on. It’s all for me. I need it, and I like doing it, and I’m good at it. It’s a sword that can be ever-sharpened, writing is. I mean, duh. Look at what I do for funsies on my Saturdays. I get REALLY stoned and watch some Orange is the New Black then get guilty about not editing, then four pages in of editing CF (my book, I’ll tell you what they stand for one day) I realize I haven’t blogged in a minute. So, here I am, a million words in, like always.

So yeah, things that happened to me a long time ago still upset me to this day. I’m not perfect.
ALSO – Josh and Ben and Alaine all grew up to be a special sort of loser, especially the guys. And Josh, who was always SO arrogant about how skinny he was, always saying shit like “Oh, I just don’t like feeling full, so I don’t eat much.” when really he had a typical teenager diet more or less he just had a fast metabolism like so many teenagers do, Josh is fat now. And he still lives in our hometown, unmarried, hosting Magic the Gathering tournaments at the same greasy comic book store I went to a few times with my brother. And he’s fat. Ben, I don’t know much about him beyond the random interactions I had with him in college. He went to my undergrad school for a few semesters the same time I did. I had a sociology class in the mornings twice a week, and I would walk past him on my way out as he waited to be let into a classroom. He messaged me a few times on facebook, because I’m sure when he was fucked up he went through his friends list to see who might be willing to date him. Ben was not at all attractive to me, BUT he’d landed my best friend’s twin as a girlfriend two different times in high school, so I can see why he thought he had a shot. He didn’t.
That’s another thing, I never understood why so few guys were into my in high school. I was attractive, especially junior and senior year. I never understood it. I guess it was a REALLY small sampling of human beings (76 in my graduating class). My husband doesn’t understand it either. To hear him tell it, and I am sure he’s being honest by the way he still acts, 9 years later, that he was attracted to me, a lot, from the first moment he saw me. The same thing happened with Drew (that’s Doug’s real name, for those keeping up), because that was really shortly before I met my husband. My husband never understood why Doug wasn’t into me/wanted to date me. I was like ha me neither. But it all worked out anyway.

 

So as you can see, no matter what happens now, things are so much better than when I was younger. So there’s that. All right it’s getting kind of late, and Sundays are kind of weird. I only get 3 hours after I get home from pole class before it’s just another work night.

 

Well, hope you’re all doing well. Love you.

Wow. That was on instinct, but I’m going to keep it.

 

~Cassie