I made it, internet! Today is the Last Day of my challenge to write a blog post every day for a year. Can you even believe it?
(I know you probably don’t particularly care, but pretend for a moment, will you?)
Wow. Lots of feelings. Relief, joy, a little sadness. Some intense regret that I missed one day.
Do I feel like I did a good job? I suppose. In some ways I feel like I’m pulling into the finish line leaking gas, with only three surviving tires and a broken windshield. A lot of the blogs I wrote were just awful. Probably most of them, in fact. And there were definitely times where I could have tried harder to write a quality post, but I just kind of didn’t.
However, in other ways, I feel like I succeeded brilliantly.
The goals of this year, to quote my past self, were:
To “dig myself out of the hole I am currently creating” by “wallow[ing] long enough in my own apathetic unproductiveness”. Past me was apparently both melodramatic and wordsy.
To “have something to my name when I tell people I’m a writer and they roll their eyes at me”.
To “defy that little voice in my head screaming at me saying that I will fail”.
To become more committed.
Yes. Absolutely. I achieved all of those things and more.This was undeniably the best year of my life to date. I got my shit together, moved out of my parent’s house, paid exorbitant car bills (twice), and have more or less successfully navigated being a real person (or as much of one as I can possibly be at this moment. And oh yeah, this blog got me my job. My amazing, real person, full time with benefits, how-did-I-get-this-lucky job.
Considering I thought I’d only make it two weeks, I’d say that’s pretty good.
So now what? Well, as I mentioned yesterday, I’m taking a break. A little over a week. I’ll be back on January the 6th, which is a Monday, if you particularly care. I think I’ll start out with three posts a week and adjust from there. Maybe throw a few treats in the mix. You know how I do.
Thanks for reading, internet. It’s been a (weird) year.
I just ran out to Tops to do a bit of shopping and it was very bizarre in there today, internet.
First of all, going to Tops always makes me feel like I’m cheating on Wegmans, because Wegmans is basically a cult. It’s a lot farther from my house than Tops, however, and there’s a gas station right in the parking lot, and on a day where I mostly want to curl up in my jammies and drink spiked hot chocolate all day instead of venturing outside, I feel like Tops is the perfect place to hit up for some low risk snacking.
As I told my dear roommate Varenka, Tops is where you go when you’re hungover and you don’t want to run into anyone you know while you’re sneaking in to buy Cheetos and Dr. Pepper in your unwashed fat pants, whereas people dress to impress to go to Wegmans (not true).
At any rate, the cashier was ringing up my very bizarre basket, which consisted of bean sprouts, frozen pierogies, and goat cheese, and I noticed that the woman behind me had not one, but nine three packs of chocolate pudding, off-brand cheesy puffs, and saline solution.
I’m not one to judge (lemon hummus and raspberry kefir), but doesn’t 27 packs of pudding seem like a lot? I’m a little inexperienced with pudding, but it seems like a lot to me. Is she feeding an entire soccer team? How many people are on a soccer team, again? 14? Or is that football?
I digress. She just had a lot of pudding. Although to be fair, the girl in front of me was only buying ramen packets, but it’s finals week, and you gotta do what you gotta do.
Another weirdness – there was a basket hanging from the number pole thing (you know, that thing with the lighty number doo-dah) labeled “My Pick of the Week” and apparently Sharon, who was my cashier, had picked cough drops for her pick of the week. Was she sick, or was she a cough drop enthusiast? I wanted to ask, but she was a rather glare-y high schooler, so I didn’t want to be attacked by her hormone fueled rage-angsting.
I just have so many questions, internet. Like why they always seem to have containers of cut-up strawberries mixed with blueberries in the produce section. Is there a trend I’m missing out on here?
Now that the psycho-craziness of November is over and Mi Madre’s home from Africa, I’m sort of feeling… I don’t know. Lazy? Like I have too much free time? Empty?
Which is crazypants, because my life is damn busy enough without doing both my job and my mother’s.
However, I’m feeling like I need a new project of sorts. Or a hobby. Or maybe a pet (not a pet).
Do you ever get that feeling, internet? You run yourself into the ground doing a huge project or favor or life, and then when the stress lets up you don’t really know what to do? Like Inigo Montoya after he gets revenge on his father’s killer?
Or, you know, not like that.
Any ideas, internet?
I know, internet. I totally left you hanging right when we were getting to the juicy part.
I don’t understand how Cassandra could possibly be a Stage Five Clinger, you probably asked yourself repeatedly over the last two days. She seems like such a normal, well adjusted, fashionable, sanitary person.
Well, you would be right, internet, and I’m modest, too. However, this is the story of how I was a Stage Five Clinger, and it’s still one of the most mortifying circumstances I’ve ever been in, so you’ll excuse me for beating around the bush.
So anyways, I had this insane crush on Cupcake, who was a year older than I was (I was 15, he was 16). We were on the same crew team (he was varsity, I was a wee novice), and I used to chat about him with my friend, Hillary Duff, using extremely clever nicknames that there was no way he would ever possibly figure out.
…of course he did. You saw that one coming, didn’t you? He totally knew. Everyone knew, apparently, and I, using my keen powers of observation, was completely oblivious to the fact that everyone totally knew about my giant crush FOR MONTHS.
Sigh. High school.
Anyways, one day after practice, Hillary Duff and I are in the parking lot talking about Cupcake, and Cupcake waltzes over and says, “Um, I know you’re talking about me.”
So of course I did Something Very Smooth.
Aka I ran for it.
I am an embarrassment.
Luckily enough, Cupcake found my complete lack of social skills endearing, and he asked me out on a date.
Now, I mentioned before that I was a dating dummy. What I should stress now is that I was a moron, actually, because somewhere in my mind I’d managed to get the idea that going on a date with someone automatically make them your boyfriend.
No, I’m not making this up. Going on a date with someone makes them your boyfriend. I was (okay, am) socially inept. However, you have to admit it would make things much easier. No “are we monogamous?” conversations. No awkward “how do I introduce this person with using the B word?”. No dating for 2 years without changing your Facebook status. One date = boyfriend. Boom.
So we went on a date. My dad dropped me off at a local park and we went Geocaching. Never found the thing, but had a lovely afternoon. My dad picked me up. No kiss. No hug. No handholding. Not so much as a pat on the back.
I went right home and changed my Myspace status, because this was 2005 and Facebook wasn’t even a thing yet.
Oh yeah, you’re thinking, this chick is crazy. I bet she had a totally pimped out Myspace page.
Yes, internet, I did.
And I’m not ashamed.
Yet I digress.
The very next day, Cupcake left on a week-long school trip to England.
By the time he had returned, everyone in high school thought we we dating.
Because I told pretty much everyone.
Because I’m a psychopath.
Now here comes the fun twist, internet.
Cupcake had made out with someone else on his trip.
Now, in his defense, he knew that we weren’t actually dating, and since he’d been overseas, he didn’t know that I thought we we dating. I, however, thought he’d cheated on me.
I took to AIM the night I found out about Cupcake’s infidelity. I don’t have a transcription, but I’ll do my best.
me: how cud u?
him: ??? 😦
me: u cheated on me??!!
me: IT’S OVER!!
him: uh… okay?
Cue tears. Drama. Hysteria.
It wasn’t until almost SIX MONTHS LATER that I figured out that Cupcake and I had never ACTUALLY been a couple. And that everyone at school had secretly been laughing at me about the entire affair. And then of course I was so mortified that I couldn’t talk to the guy for three years after that.
…I’m really, REALLY oblivious.
I’m a little pressed for time today, internet. Mamma Mia and I took the dogs on a glorious walk around town this morning in the sunshine and now I’m off to work in about half an hour. Whoops.
It’s okay though, as its been a bit of a slow news day here on hnw cassandra. I started an awesome new job this past week at the local Visitor’s Bureau, and while I’m not going to go into detail for obvious reasons including and not limited to losing said awesome job, I will go so far as to tell you that I’m cautiously optimistic about my future there. The staff has so far been overwhelmingly welcoming and supportive, and while I’m still working on the actually-helping-visitors part, I am rapidly learning skills such as reading a map and putting brochures into the correct slot. Perhaps next week I’ll even give the phone a go.
Now I’m off to catering. If you’ve been following along at all, you’ll know I’m actually working four part time jobs at the moment, so my schedule is a little crazy. If this blog seems a bit distracted and hectic and random for the next few weeks, that’s why, but stay tuned, because I’ll hoping be unveiling a project I’ve been thinking about for a few weeks now (!!!). I know, I’m really living on the edge.
Side note- I used to think living on the edge meant going on crazy spur-of-the-moment trips and getting a little too crazy on weekends. My new definition of living on the edge is apparently can-I-get-to-the-bank-and-still-make-it-to-work-on-time.
(Answer – yes, yes I can. YOLO.)
Anyways, stay tuned for exciting things. Tomorrow’s post will be on how I chose the name for this blog so I can FINALLY get people to stop calling it morbid. Monday’s is the big, exciting new manuscript. I’m aiming for Wednesday as Exciting New Project Day. Get ready.
This is my 100th post, internet. Wow. WOW. Post 100. Here it is.
I don’t even know where to start.
I guess, first of all, I never, ever, thought I would make it this far. Heck, I wasn’t betting on making it past two weeks. I actually sent myself two different FutureMails telling myself to resume writing my blog assuming I would have quit by the time I’d received them. Apparently I’m better at committing to things then previously anticipated.
A lot has happened in the past few months. I’ve applied and been rejected to five different grad schools. I’ve gotten three new jobs. I’ve taken a barre training. I did the 40 days program. I’m about to sign the lease on an apartment with Varenka. I started performing music with Captain Apollo. Doctor Who’s back on television. I finally know who the mother is (Just kidding. I still have no idea who the mother is. Come on, Smosby! Tell us!).
My audience here on hnwcassandra has blossomed into something I couldn’t even anticipate. I have a ton of readers, some of which ambush me in person for more details on things I’ve written (still getting slack for my little April Fool’s joke. SORRY GRANNY!!). I got a Beautiful Blogger award from FactoryMaid, which I still can’t believe. I wrote a story that won an award on Legends Undying. I’ve even been quoted and reblogged and liked and posted on enough to have generated a little over 6000 views in 100 days, and I have every person that’s ever been on here, whether I know them or not, to thank for that.
What’s in the future for hnwcassandra? Well, a few things right off the bat, but nothing major. I still plan on trying to write everyday for a year, but after that, I don’t know. I’m planning on doing NaNoWriMo in November (the challenge to complete an entire manuscript in a month!). If I get up the cajones maybe I’ll even post some music eventually. I do have one, big, secret project I’m planning on revealing sometime soon, but until them, my lips are sealed.
Thank you to all my amazing, talented, beautiful, fresh-smelling readers. I couldn’t have done it without you.
Guess what internet. It’s the long anticipated sequel to Psychopath Saturday. The first Psychopath Saturday was actually on a Sunday, but this is my blog and I do what I want.
These are actual, live, unedited Craigslist posts. They are all from places far away from me. Partially because I was too scared to look at the personal ads for my own area, but mostly because if any of these people read this, I don’t want them to be able to hunt me down.
Yes. YES. Starting off with a strong contender here. The creative spelling, the fact that they used the word “friend” three times, the inclusive of a phone number (!!!). This person is clearly a bold, entrepreneurial genius. He’s a rebel. He learned spelling and grammar (maybe?) and thought to himself No. I shall make my own way in life. The inclusive of a phone number speaks to a dangerous streak. This guy doesn’t play by the rules. He makes the rules.
This guy knows what he’s looking for. Cool people with embarrassing stories. Is that you? Probably not. But maybe. Try emailing him. He’ll write back. Or he won’t. He cares. Ish.
You know what women go crazy for? A man who plays hard to get. Someone who reminds them of their super cool high school boyfriend who, like, was so above caring, y’know? This person is cool and he knows it. He doesn’t even have to convince you. He already hooked you by the promise that he might write back. Or not. Whatever.
I believe children should be raised by both parents, so if you think the father should
not be around, please do not respond. I am in this for the long run.
If interested, put “Family Time” in the subject line to avoid spam, or you will be deleted.
Thanks, and may God bless you.
This guy ain’t afraid to go for the jugular. He wants kids, and what he needs is a working womb. No personality required. Baby maker? That’s the endearment I want to be referred to by my man. He doesn’t even mention marriage. It’s the 21st century.
Marriage is so passé.
What do you think, internet? If you had to pick from one of these fine gentlemen which one would you go for?