This is what happens when I drink vodka.

I love you, and I miss you. And I don’t even know who you are.

I’ve felt this way before. Sort the clutter, man the chaos, recognize the longing that’s been there since you were old enough to recognize emptiness (all around you).

Persevere. Be strong. That’s all you’ve ever needed.

Most days you aren’t hopeful, but you at least wonder what’s to come.

Squish

Well. We all know what it’s time for. More obsessing. I tried to not think about it all day, some pleasant distractions helped, but I mean….I’m still kind of like oh my god what the fuck about tomorrow. And today didn’t help…

The head of security, the ex-cop (gee….yes….hard to imagine why I don’t like those….why maybe even the sight of the standard navy blue uniform with the shiny black shoes and belt and the hat, makes my insides cringe and I’m suddenly wondering why I’m sweating) said good morning to me as he walked past my desk…his office is quite near my desk. This is the first morning he’s ever done that. Could be a coincidence. Could be my stoner paranoia. Could be that he’s totally in on whatever is happening tomorrow morning.

I don’t do well with dread.

I mean, do I seem like I do well with ANY negative emotions? I’ve just had my fill, I guess. Plus like…I feel like I go out of my way to not be shitty to other people. I’m generally in a good mood. Like whatever. We’ll see.

My boss, the one giving this review I have to come in on a fucking Saturday for, was like…almost strangely nice towards me today. I acted totally normal. At one point when I was alone with a different boss and wanted to ask if it was normal to come in on a Saturday for a review. I just don’t get it.

It’s either going to be really bad or really good.

Wouldn’t it be hilarious if it was something really awesome? Like they want me to head up a new Creative Department? That’s not a thing, it’s just something my mind came up with when I was trying to explore all possible scenarios so I don’t freak out.

My husband is like…your boss knows you “get emotional”….she might need to broach a topic with you that she knows you’re going to react badly to.

I was like………ohhhhhhh

So that might be it

Maybe I come in smelling like pot and the ex-cop smells it.

Maybe I’ve like…been a cunt too many times to too many people. I seldom put up with shit. I know I’ve pulled some idiotic moves before too. I get upset. I start thinking irrationally, or not at all. I can’t possibly process my emotions, let alone say what I want to say when I’m upset. I’m just not. I have the relationships that I have because I just don’t get emotional with my best friend, ever, and my husband knows how to handle me, after all of this time. It only takes so much exposure to W to really be able to explain away like 90% of my shitty behavior (for an emotionally intelligent person).

Maybe I’m the only one who hasn’t gone anywhere in the department since I got there. Which is true.

I have no idea.

Can you tell how little I like not knowing something I want to know?

My in-laws are in town this weekend for a convention for one of my MIL’s hobbies, and I REALLY don’t feel like dealing with the random comments about the lack of cleanliness in one/more parts of the house…and the near-constant criticism of my husband. She always irks the shit out of me, but obviously I just hide it and act normal then hate her for it afterwards. Because. That’s Cassie.

So. Oddly enough, N read the blogs about him.

That’s also something rare with him.

He’s the only real life person who’s read my blog.

Aside from the select ones I’ve let my husband see.

There are some he can’t see.

He doesn’t want to. He knows that. I know that. I don’t really want to relive those memories. Who the fuck would?

So N like contacts me and apologizes and explains more of wtf was going on in a way that makes toooootal sense. So like…perhaps I’m just less pissed.

When an INTJ figures out why they’re feeling an emotion, they tend to let a lot of anger go.

See my issue is, I think INTJ tends to come out of like…a sharp mind under less than idea conditions. Being strikingly uncommon and generally reclusive doesn’t help matters. If I wasn’t also an alcoholic I feel like I would have zero chance, socially. I guess being attractive helps a little.

So. Idk. I guess I feel better about the N situation. I mean if I can like mock up a non-disclosure agreement about CF that he’s willing to sign…maybe we can talk (lol…but not joking, they’re standard boiler plate). I’m serious. I don’t email my work. I don’t talk about it online EVER. My personal computer is RARELY online. I use my phone for all of that. It’s not that hard to use your phone as a laptop and your laptop as a word processor, which is what I do. If my husband and I text about it we use initials only to regard characters. I won’t let anyone know the title. I’m only going to give it to my best friend in person. How could I trust the mail? How much scanning is involved, these days?

I know this sounds absurb. But idk. I have some pretty dope ideas.

Again. I know how I sound.

I just don’t care.

Like whatever. Fucking hate me.

Some days I hate me too. But most days I’m like…damn Cassie, look at you always at least trying as fucking hard as possible.

Again. I’ve spent every waking moment since Thursday morning worried about tomorrow. This is all pretty dumb. In a weird way it’d be exciting to be thinking about Monday with a very dfferent outlook than my usual.

That old, annoying adage is proving true yet again. The one my impatient, impulsive self grinds at most.

Time will tell.

~Cassie

Seeing a production of Shakespeare in a maximum security prison went well

Again. This is the second time I’ve gone (to the same place). I saw Much Ado about Nothing in 2014, then this past Tuesday evening I saw A Mid-Summer’s Night Dream. It was SO good. I mean you can really tell they get a year to practice, and that they really put their all into it.  A few of them have been at this for over two decades, so as you can imagine they’re pretty talented by this point. I haven’t laughed that much at a production of anything, like that “my face hurts from this/wedding day” type of smiling.

Then I made the mistake of reading their crimes online. And like…why does the human brain condone murder but never any sex crimes? Like I get it I guess, but I’m an inquisitive person, I’d like to know. But then all I could think about it how each of those crimes happened…and how there’s like fodder for at least five good books, between all of them…but…what do I do, steal their bios? That seems immoral, somehow. I already haven’t been able to donate to their cause yet, despite having gone to see them. I was literally a freeloader. I’ll donate when I can, I swear. I need to because they’re doing King Lear next year, and I’ll probably want to go then as well. Kind of bummed I missed Julius Caesar.

But now that that’s done, I don’t have too much on the agenda by way of things to look forward to. Between my birthday and the funeral and the play, I have 4 vacation days left for this year. Sigh. Not that we were going to be able to afford to vacation anywhere. Plus I get weekends off so I can always do a one night thing, but again, can’t afford it anyway.

Well, this week I had a fucking break down (at home) and it was from a pretty pathetic source. I mean I found out, as I was driving us home on Wednesday from the prison (354 miles from my home), that I was not pregnant, again. I mean we haven’t been trying for too long but you still get hopeful, don’t you? I do. It’s in my nature. But anyway. So maybe it was partially that. But on Thursday I discovered that my husband had spent more $ on gas than I thought, and it resulted in us not having enough $ in our checking account (it’s the only place we have $, I spent all of my on-hand cash and maxed my one credit card just to go to the play and back) for me to get lunch on Friday. I’ve been going out to a relatively cheap restaurant around my work with a coworker every Friday for over two years now. Lately, a different coworker has always joined us, and this Friday a fourth person AND the new intern were planning on coming along as well. This was all fine with me, but this made it impossible to get out of going to this lunch, after we’d planned it all week and such. And I literally did not have the money. Not in cash, or even change, or available to charge on a credit card, or in the bank. DO you realize how humiliating that is, at my age? Like all of my bills are paid up, and we had food to eat at home, but I had nothing to spare and no graceful way of getting out of lunch with my coworkers, either. I know I could have asked one of them to spot me, but that would involve a level of humiliation and embarrassment I’ve been feeling my entire life, that I don’t care to relive, at any cost.
Luckily, while I was freaking out (and by that I mean just crying, lying alone on our bed) my husband took back the empties we had on hand, which came to more than enough cash to cover my lunch (we don’t go anywhere extravagant, but I had $5 left, which isn’t enough for anywhere these days, I needed at least $10). So as pathetic as it was, it really did make me feel better because I didn’t have to relive a bevvy of unpleasant emotions I’ve known since childhood.
So that’s the level we’re still at, if you were wondering. Luckily I’ve been able to afford my pole classes, which are $18.75 a piece, if you buy 4 at a time. It’s only once a week, but then I work on stuff at home, and I actually am getting better! It’s so amazing to be like..wow..I track actual progress in myself….and you’re excited over what your body can do, not what it looks like (I stole that from a meme, lets be honest), AND whenever I’m doing pole, it’s all I’m thinking about. It requires all your focus, which makes it relaxing because you can completely concentrate on it…yet still work out. Yes, I’m very stoned when I go to class. Sometimes I wonder if they can smell it. Probably. Whatever, it’s not that weird of thing anymore, especially down here.
But my husband has only received 2 paychecks this season so far, so I haven’t been able to get very far ahead with things. But, he wants to quit this job, which I mildly support, but I will miss when he was making slightly more money than me (he works many more hours than me, at a lower rate per hour), but I don’t like his job now. But, at the same time, in the past he’s always taken his sweet ass time getting a new job, and I just don’t make enough to support both of us and pay the rent. I make enough if the person I’m with makes roughly what I make, that puts us slightly above the median wage for our area. But anyway. It’s expensive being poor, let me tell you.

Other than that, and my pole success, I’m still plugging along, as always. Still haven’t seen my mom since last October. We email every day that she works, though, so I still communicate with her a great deal. Perhaps even moreso than if we saw each other in person. Who’s to know? Who’s also to know when this will end, or how? I’m uncertain, but sometimes just leave things up to…idk like fate? Chance? Destiny? Idk. Whatever you want to call it. Random chaos? Whatever you want.

What I don’t leave up to chaos is my writing. Though to be honest I’m kind of off kilter with that as well. The funeral last week and the play this week were kind of draining. I’m always wondering why I don’t get anything done writing-wise on the weekend when I have the whole damn day off. But here i am, at 12:20 pm on Saturday and i haven’t even opened the document.

Also I’ve been filled with misgiving about the way I’ve been going about my current process, of editing on my lunch breaks and writing evenings/weekends. Because all of the writing advice online seems to not encourage skipping around like that, or editing while you’re trying to write. So unless I want to write original material on my lunch break (which, due to the nature of my work, would HAVE to happen in my car, and my laptop is too big, it wouldn’t fit well in the space I have, due to my height and tiny-car-possession) I have to forego using my lunch break for artistic things. I could go back to reading at my desk, I guess. I wish there was a place where I could write on my laptop inside…but there’s not. It would get weird and invasive real fast, and those are like my least favorite things.

Anyway. I should wonder why I waste the weekends. I got up around 9:30am, which is very late compared to the 4:30 or 5:30am that I usually get up. Then I immediately cleaned up the house and did the dishes, cleaned the kitchen table and counters, random small things like that, and I’m about halfway done with laundry. And I got really high, duh, because it’s freaking Saturday, and I’ve been pounding black coffee like always, so I feel REALLY high by this point, so I felt compelled to blog. Which I guess is good. I don’t have anyone in my life to talk to about this shit. There’s my husband, and I do talk to him about a lot, we’re definitely not into keeping anything from each other anymore, even shit like when we want to fuck someone we know from work, or whatever, but sometimes I need to talk ABOUT him, you know? And I do talk to my mom about some things, like financial issues, but then she just tells me how well she can commiserate, which I know is true, and then I feel bad, so I try to not mention it. And I don’t tell her about any other issues until long after they happen if at all because I don’t want to stress her. So I just tell her about random stuff going on, she seems to enjoy it. And I have a best friend, but besides the few times a year we see each other in person we don’t talk a ton which is fine and all I understand she’s busy but still, the avenue to talk about issues isn’t there.
But, an outlet is an outlet, right? I’ve told you-all some pretty  weird messed up shit in my life….but definitely not all of it. I don’t know if I ever will. I don’t know if that’s the plan. Yet. I never really know the plan until I’m upon it. Maybe that attitude is to blame for my financial woes. Idk.

Anyway, that’s what’s up in my life right now.

Do you ever notice a WEIRD pattern of behavior in yourself…and you’re like, where the fuck did this come from? Like…I’ve had multiple total freak outs…in MANY different types of doctors’ offices….and that’s literally the only place anything like that has ever happened……

I’ve never told anyone that.

So. Feel special. I guess.

I don’t care if people know. Maybe it’s nothing and I’m just weird…but sometimes….there’s like…..a certain hysteria to what’s upsetting me, it freaks some people out because it can bring about REALLY strong emotion really really quickly (my boss learned)..and…..I don’t quite know….what the fuck is causing it….but it’s INCREDIBLY upsetting just to write about now.

And you’re like…oh…yeah….that sounds normal. Along with…everything else. But anyway.

I should be off so I get some actual writing done today, not this stupidly long diary. I’m sure I’ll post another pole video tomorrow.

~Cassie

I should be editing, but here I am on effing WordPress

Not complaining, just kind of annoyed with how my mind works. I was all pissy last weekend because the holiday ruined my ability to get any writing done OR go to pole class, so that was a bummer. (Speaking of pole – I now have one installed in my living room! I am SURE I will post pictures later, but this is going to be a more depressing blog, because, IDK it’s been awhile, I’m not just sex stories and weird shit and selfies and pot and pole dancing and writing a weird sex novel. I mean in large part that is a bunch of my personality, but that is definitely not all. I’m also severely addicted to caffeine, but that, to me, is almost like a wholesome addiction, given what I’ve done in the past) But now instead of using my entirely free Saturday to input on-paper edits (the ones I do in my car, that I KNOW you remember from my other post WordPress is clearly for selfies)

But, instead I got like a little too high, now I’m like lost in thought and it’s hard to read TINY print. Why did I use 12 size font. I mean I know why, it’s so I can be arrogant about it. But I’m still annoyed.

Okay I thought of what my worst trait is. It’s actually not the many, sundry emotional problems, it’s my inability to manage fucking money. Like. I’m very confused as to what I’ve been doing wrong, but I clearly an see that it’s something. It’s kind of my special brand of pathetic, but sometimes I mentally console myself with the idea that it’s probably for the best I’m not pregnant yet, because we really don’t have the money. But, on the other hand, I really don’t think I should let the fear of debt stop me. I didn’t with school, and now look where I am. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I am so significantly happier now than I’ve ever been in my life. To be honest, things weren’t really all that good with my husband until we both stopped drinking…and that was only like two years ago, and we’ve been together for 9 (in July).

I just feel like if I could somehow not be in debt and actually like have my shit together enough to own a house and a car that isn’t ten years old. But whatever, my car from 2008 still runs fine, and it was a gift from my Grandma, she just paid outright for it, with a check. And, if I did get pregnant, my mother in law already offered to pay for our day care, because she didn’t want fear of not having money to stop us from having kids, because we’d be great parents.

So that’s what I actually wanted to write about. Did you catch that I just described too monumentally generous older women in my life? Like. I mean. Sometimes you have to see God where you can, right? And I’ve had two great trading-outs in my life. One was when my best friend moved from our hometown to a city about two hours away to attend state school. I knew she was leaving, and about two months before she left I met my future husband, indirectly through my best friend. Then, pretty shortly after we met, we were dating, and I met my future mother in law. My Grandma died when I was 23, I think. Right after her 93rd birthday. I’ll be honest, at this point in my life I was just finished with undergrad and had a really severe drinking and adderoll and cigarette issue. I was so damn skinny. God I miss that. But not the other parts. And, the day she died, I was really strung out and fucked up, and when my mom called to tell me what happened (we’d all been expecting it….in fact, the reason I didn’t go see my Grandma right before she died is because I didn’t believe my POS dad when he told me she was dying because he’d literally said that about 40 times before in the past three years. My mom was always so disgusted with him during any of those given times, as my Grandma’s health got worse and she went from in-home care to a nursing home to a memory care nursing home, because he would seem downright excited) she didn’t ask me to come over. And I was glad, because my car had a flat tire and my then boyfriend and I were too drunk to deal with it.
Well, as you can tell, all of those were wrong moves. i see that, but you’ve got to understand a few things, this is MY family. not a stable, normal, functional family. And, I don’t know, I can’t remember exactly, but this was either right before or right after the FIRST time I tried not speaking to my dad. I know it was during the three year stretch we lived at this white trash apartment complex behind the mall in my husband’s hometown. I am currently in the midst of my second and actual attempt at cutting all ties with him.

So  I do find it interesting when my best friend and my husband like traded out, like almost in a comically obvious fashion. Then, my whole childhood, the only reason I ever had anything extra (so, things beyond the minimal amount of clothing necessary to live and a place to live and food to eat and being sent to school) had to come from my Grandma. She paid for all for my homecoming and prom dresses. She bought me a computer when I was in high school…you know…the one my dad threatened to destroy with a hatchet, mostly out of infantile jealousy?
Then, when my Grandma was in a very expensive nursing home and all of her money was gone and she had to move to a few different shitty ones at the end of her life, I met my husband’s mom. Because he lived at home when we met, I actually met his parents like the second time I ever hung out with him. I remember quite distinctly that his dad was delighted with the idea that I’d gone to a Lutheran high school. I was like…well…guess I get some benefit out of that awful experience.

And  my mother in law has been my sole source of clothing and shoes, for the most part, since I’ve met her. She routinely takes my husband and I on a big shopping trip, usually about twice a year. Last time, there were 6 new pairs of shoes. Other times, it’s a new batch of work clothing. She’s unbelievably generous. I was raised way too white trash to be that kind of generous, with people I know, myself. I have a few charities in mind for if I ever make real money as a writer. I mean it’s possible. There’s a vacuum I can fill, I just know it. But anyway.

I’m not trying to brag, obviously. That is literally never my goal. I mean when I try and talk about things i like about myself or my life, it’s really me doing everything I can to not be negative or depressive or complain or whine. Because I seriously fucking hate it when other people do those things.

Which brings me to my favorite charities, as of right now – There’s Free the Girls. They enable women in developing nations (like I know Guatemala was one of them…then I think definitely also some in Africa? I don’t feel like fact-checking) who have been rescued from sex trafficking to run their own business. Women in this country donate bras, and the other women sell them. I cannot explain to you why, but there’s this one like info-mercial about FTG and it ALWAYS makes me cry. A lot. Thinking about it makes me cry. I literally do not understand this trigger, but I really am aware of it.

And the other is called Shakespeare Behind Bars. I get annoyed when I tell people about it, because the name makes most idiots laugh. But it’s a program that has inmates in male prisons put on productions of Shakespeare once a year. It’s open to the public, in the sense that you can apply for a ticket and undergo a background check and attend if there’s enough space. My husband and I are going this year. I got the email that enrollment was open, and they’re doing A Mid-Summer Night’s Dream this year, and I was like meeehhhhh I really want to go, to my husband, and he was like…well we can probably make it happen…. So fuck it why not.

Which I guess that ties in with my first stated issue of knowing my worst flaw is how bad I am with money. Because if I have one element to my personality, it’s a total “fuck it” vibe towards spending money. I mean that’s why we’re trying to have a kid, despite our sort-of financial dependence on his parents. Which feels insane that that even has to happen, because we make a collective $40,000 ish last year. Does that NOT sound like enough for two people to live on? But no, seriously, it’s not somehow. IDK. I’m aware you can pay for advice on this sort of thing. We have Quicken once, I did not like using it. All it did was point out where we spent all of our money. Like I know, I just feel like I can’t control it from happening.

But, anyway. We’re growing our own green now. I’d post pictures, but I don’t want to make anyone jealous. It’s a very small grow, obviously, because our rented house is tiny. Renting a 3 bedroom where we live is $910 a month. Do you realize what kind of mortgage payment that would be? BUT, what are we supposed to do, pull a down payment out of nowhere? We can’t ask his parents for THAT kind of $$, we already ask for enough, on top of the things they give us on their own, which is a lot. It’s ALWAYS been a make enough to just get  by situation. And now, it’s been years since we stopped wasting a ton on beer, and booze, and cigarettes, and I constantly drank soda, like I would stop at a convenience store a few times a day for one. So disgusting. Now I’m all about black coffee and La Croix, because I’m old and need to watch calories. But anyway.  AND we’ve gotten WAY better at not eating out, or getting fast food. We almost always eat dinner at home, with things purchased from a grocery store. I’m gotten VERY good at feeding us cheaply, but still pretty healthily. Speaking of health, I’ve FINALLY started losing weight. I’m sure I’ve mentioned a few dozen times how my old drinking habits did not mix well when I finally got a desk job. I gained at least 30 pounds that first year. It was terrible. Again, I’m lucky my mother in law buys me clothing, because I went through a huge fluctuation from my earlier years of shopping with her. But, I am finally starting to lose that weight.

TO that end, like i said at the beginning, yes, we have a stripper pole now, okay, I cannot resist a pic, especially since the living room gets good morning light. IMG_9251

Yeah, we had to put it in our living room because that’s the only spot with the most space.

And guess what. My husband was INSTANTLY really good at pole. He can climb, already. He could do every spin I could remember how to show him. It’s because he’s so obsessed with pull ups, and doing shit like climbing trees or brick walls for fun. Pole is pretty much a rope to climb, but you can have a lot more fun with it. He can’t Iron-X off the bat but he’ll get there, I’m sure. I’m so jealous. Like if he went to class, he would show me up so hard on his first day. He really likes it, which I find funny.

So, IDK, maybe we’ll move back up north and open a pole studio. He DID take eight years of dance class. If I was working full time at a regular job and insuring us, I think we could handle running the studio. If it was profitable enough, we could both work there full time. I just know this whole situation we’ve got going on right now is kind of lame. Plus my husband has always struggled so much with finding a well-paying job that he doesn’t detest.

So maybe I’ll be writing a novel and dedicating a lot of time to pole fitness. There’s enough tutorials online, and now I have a pole at home, and a really in shape spotter.

That’s one thing…his job right now is really grueling, and it involves 4 months of being laid off in the winter, but he is SO cut from it. Like it’s weird being like…wow, that’s my husband’s body. He’s getting like PERFECT ab definition. It’s not fucking shock he’s so good at pole, right away, like first time he tried. And I mean, he was just rail-skinny when we met, then he got REALLY overweight for awhile there. He trimmed down for the wedding but I remember the picture of him from the night he proposed his face looked faaaaaat. I’m not being mean, I would totally say that to him and he wouldn’t be offended. He knew how big he’d gotten. And I mean, the way he is now is obviously nicer. What can I say. But now I’m like….thank God I’m so facially attractive, or people might wonder why he and I are together when we’re out in public.

But anyway, I’ve wasted quite enough time on this.

Hope all of you are doing well.

 

~Cassie

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

~Cassie