Hard Shell Taco, Cinnamon Twists!

Sometimes we forget what we're all about. We fall in love, we get a new hobby, we change jobs, we move. And sometimes we're just preoccupied. Recently I've been looking for happiness in all the wrong places. In a bigger apartment, another car, more money. But thinking about those things don't bring me joy or happiness. When I daydream about what I would make my family for dinner or what Christmas would be like for my children, that brings me joy.

I've been questioning myself to find that bliss. What are you planning to do with the rest of your life career-wise? What makes you happiest in that sense? Will you make enough money to have all the "things" you want? Trying to answer these questions is not only exhausting, but damn near impossible. I can't spend my days trying to disect myself and figure out the future. A very wise woman once said, "You can't enjoy the present if you're living in the future." Or the past for that matter.

Something today made me realize that I forgot that it's the simple things, the little things that bring me the most joy. Today my fiance brought me Taco Bell for lunch. Which really doesn't sound like much, but the lunch I brought was already moldy (joy!) and that instantly put me in a cranktastic mood. So I was very appreciative of him bringing me some munchables. And you know what? It brightened my whole day! Just being able to sit down and enjoy an impromptu lunch with him was amazing. I felt closer to him. I felt like we had been renewed in a way. And I realized that all my life I have always LOVED the little things. Like driving with the windows down on a sunny day or holding my best friend's smiling 8-month-old daughter. If you don't appreciate the little things, life is seriously going to suck for you, man. You aren't always going to have those "big ticket days." Like getting a promotion or being approved for a loan. Go outside. Breathe in the air and take it all in. The world is full of things to appreciate.

Yesterday

Whew! Kinda went off yesterday. I think we all need to release whatever may be inside of us. Eating us up. Wearing us out. If we don't, it explodes out at a time when it shouldn't on someone that doesn't deserve it. I realized that keeping those feelings inside to stew, marinate, and fester makes it sooooo much worse than just letting it out. Kinda like a fart. The longer you keep it in the more it hurts. Wow, Cass. You just used a fart similie, I can hear my brother saying.

Now I'm not one to wear my heart on my sleeve. In fact, vulnerability is something I try to avoid at all costs. Doing this, however, has worked against me. I guess I oppress myself and I don't let me feel my own emotions to the fullest extent. It's hard to go through all those emotions, but it feels like a kajillion pounds have been lifted off me. I feel freer. I feel like I can function, which is huge for me. It's easy to cripple myself with thoughts of not feeling good enough, of not being enough. But I deserve love and compassion. And so do you.

I Love Facebook

Asshole. Asshole! Asshole! Asshole! That's the only word coming to mind after seeing that photo. You went to Brandon's wedding. Of course you did. Wouldn't have missed that for the world, eh? You bastard. I take that back, you spineless, apathetic, pathetic man. You can't even answer one of my stinkin' emails or call me on my birthday. Oh wait, you don't even know that I live a thousand miles away! You have made zero effort, zero, to find me or contact me. I've found you. I've even tried looking you up anywhere I can hoping that I can find a current, or at least somewhat current, picture of you. Or find out something.

Like I've said before it's like you've died. Like you no longer exist. I wonder if that's how you feel about me. Like Josh and Cass were just beamed off the face of the Earth never to be seen again. Now we're on some planet for kids whose fathers can't freaking stand up for themselves. It's a damn lonely planet, Dad. Damn lonely. You don't even deserve to be called Dad. Chris. Christopher. Dammit I wanted to name my son after you! Can't do that now. I couldn't answer his question of, "where did my name come from?" Because then I would have to dive into the deep pit of blackness that once was my love for you. What was a field full of beautiful flowers, music, artistic conversations, recipe exchanges, and admiration is now an dark, bottomless pit of hurt, resentment, tears, and longing. You, sir, are a fuck. A complete and utter fuck.

In my last letter to you I said that despite the fact you've written me off as a daughter I would still take you back. Now I'm not so sure I would. I think I'm starting to accept the fact that you aren't "going out for a pack of smokes." You don't deserve to share in my happiness. I can't believe you're a father.. my father. We used to have such good times. Reading us Dave Barry. Learning your "cheese folding formula" so we could "use the least amount of cheese, but still getting the coverage you need on that burger." Standing with you at the grill, asking questions about what this was and why you have a bucket of soaked wood. Going to Grandma's, you sitting in her chair. Watching Baby Animals for the umpteenth time or the first level of Mario Bros.. No more of that now. No more birthday cards. ("Welcome to the double digits." 10th birthday) No more new restaurants to try. No more you. No more father. No more. You will never know this, but when you left a piece of me did too.

My Favorite Christi(mas) Carol

I remember asking every year, "Mom, when can we put the Christmas tree up? All my friends at school put theirs up the day after Thanksgiving. Something is clearly wrong with them." After a bit of laughter and a nod in agreement she answers, "Well that's how we've done it since I was little. Your Aunt Christi was born on the seventh of December and we never wanted to overshadow her birthday. Thus, we never put up our tree any earlier than the eighth."

I remember the Christmas when I was given my first knitting... equipment? I sat on great-grandma's blue and green swirled couch attemping to make a pot holder. I kept saying, "Look! I made pants!" And would make the knitting needles dance with the "pants" inbetween. I also remember having great visions of making afghans, sweaters, socks and the like only to follow in my mother's footsteps and realize that I would leave the knitting/crocheting to "the experts."

My fondest memory was on our way to Michigan for Andrea's wedding. I remember sitting next to you, feeling so special because I didn't have to sit next to my mother. I was now a big girl. You reached into your carry-on and pulled out, to my surprise, a jewelry box. I remember the outside was ivory-colored with gold scrolling on the lid, the red velvet interior had a small, diamond shaped mirror. Inside was a silver locket. My stomach started to fill with butterflies as you carefully lifted it out of the box and placed it in your hand. "This, your grandparents gave me when I was a girl." My eyes darted over the delicate floral detail. Wow, I thought to myself. "Since I'm not able to have anymore children, I thought you should have this." My eyes grew wide. Really, for me? Our relationship was never the same after that. I felt like a little less like a niece and a little more like a daughter. I don't think I took that necklace off all weekend.

I will never forget that infamous Thursday morning. I kept that locket in my pocket all day. Rubbing it between my fingers, remembering the day you placed it in my hands. Then you ascended into the heavens. I looked skyward, tears streaming down my cheek, yelling, "You can't take her away! She's not ready yet!" But in truth, I was wasn't ready. Through the tears and shouts, I remembered something my mother had told me. I kept having these dreams about my Grandma visiting me after she had passed away. "She visits you in your dreams now. That's where she knows she can find you." Realizing that, I know that any time I miss you or need to see you, I can close my eyes and you'll appear. Always smiling, always laughing, always loving. I will always have those wonderful memories that I can visit any time I want. Any time I want.

Out of Tilt

When I'm having a day where nothing seems to go right, I blame science. Darn you Beekman's World and Bill Nye! The world seems to fall out of tilt, and the past week proves that theory. I had some family come into town from Hawaii. Now I've met both of these people before, but I haven't really gotten to know them. Little did I know I was about to board Frog and Toad's Wild Ride.

So here's what I've learned:

You can't just pop into your kids' lives whenever you feel like it. More than likely you're going to disrupt the delicate balance of school, family, extra curriculars, church, etc. with your non-scheduling, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants ways. You're going to cause more chaos than calm. And if Momma Bear has anything to say about it, run.

You must have a plan of action before coming to the mainland to visit said kids. Believe it or not your older children are developing their lives which, day-to-day, doesn't usually involve you. They can do their life without you being there, and, if you ask me, are doing a fine job. Be more understanding if they have prior commitments, even if it's girls' night out at the bar.

Just got married? Congrats. But that doesn't mean planning a very long, tedious roadtrip a sneeze away from the Canadian border is the best bonding activity to get to know the new step-parent. Going through a parents' divorce is crappy at best, painful at it's worst. Add into that a complete stranger you're supposed to love and trust right off the bat. That just spells disaster. Don't do a roadtrip.

You say your kids are acting up? You say your 20-year-old wants to sleep out on the deck because you only rented two rooms for seven people? Let her, okay. Yeah she'll probably get cold or bitten by bugs and possibly end up inside anyway, but she probably won't get eaten by bears or a moose. So don't a) try to carry her into into the house or b) spank her. Yes you read that correctly.

Everyone is ready to be home on the drive back from any trip. So why not jump on the Crazy Train and tell your four children they can't play the license plate game, slug-bug, or jell-o. They can't play their gameboy or DS or whatever the frick those things are called. They can't write in their journal (*cough*bullshit*cough*) or... wait for it... wait for it.... they can't speak. (*cough*doublebullshit*cough*) So don't be surprised if you have to pull over because someone just had to rip a journal (literally) out of someone else's hands and they're threatening to walk home because they were just expressing their feelings about that same someone and you have to coax them back into the car. You're an idiot.

The last thing I've learned? Once you're part of the family, people start to feel more comfortable around you and everyone lets it all hang out. I mean alllllll of it. All the dangly, dark, nasty, hairy bits. All the crap in the past, all the straight-jacket craziness. It's there. Full force. In yo face! But I guess that means they... love you?

Thankfully the ride has ended, and the tickets have expired. Strangely enough, the world seems right again and will continue to spin until the next episode. Stay tuned.

Tiny dancer in your hands

You've been gone for about four years now. Well, not physically gone. But gone from my life. Gone long enough that you will not be walking me down the aisle. Long enough that you will never learn the names your future grandkids. Long enough that I call someone else "dad" because I no longer feel you deserve the title.

I watched an episode of Intervention last night that reminded me of you. A son had not seen his father in over 15 years due to his father's drug addiction. And although you are no longer living that lifestyle (I pray), I could identify with this young man. I saw the pain in his eyes when he confronted his father. I felt that feeling of being abandoned, of not being loved, of him not being there. Is that how we're going to be? Have you officially ex-communicated me? It feels as though you have.

When I went back home to visit, we looked through countless photo albums. Ones that were old enough to have pictures of you in them. As I turned each page I realized how mysterious you are. Everyone else had their emotions displayed on their faces, yet yours remained blank. I never knew what was going on in that head of yours, I always wondered. Wondered what was behind those blue eyes and mustache. There's a lot more going on on the inside than you let people know about. This pains me. Pains me because no one knows the whole story about me, and the same seems to hold true for you. It pains me because we're both trapped without one another, feeling alone.

I'll close by saying this: I'm someone who will trust right off the bat. But once you betray me, you're screwed. You're never getting my trust back no matter what you do. The most fucked up part about this whole situation? I would take you back in a second. And I hate myself for that. If you were anyone else, heh, buh-bye. See ya 'round. What does that say about your daughter?

The Official First Post

Welcome to The Land of Cass. I will be your tour guide. So please keep all arms, legs, and tentacles inside of the ride at all times, remembering to take small children by the hand as you exit. Enjoy!