I'm Moving!!!

Hey there! I'm moving my blog!! You can now find me at:  http://cjcourtney.wordpress.com/

My friend Amanda has a blog here; so I've decided to switch as well. It'll be nice to viewers because they can comment and not have to have an ID there so You can find all my previous blogs, and all future blogs here: http://cjcourtney.wordpress.com/

Thanks Everyone!

I guess if it makes me Desperate and Pitiful....

I didn't realize that dating someone who was married and had children labeled me as desperate....or pitiful even. It really hurts to see that some of my "Friends" view me that way. I'm sorry, but I thought I was looking at the man. I'm sorry if I'm ready to be married. Not because everyone else around me is settling down, but because *Gasp* I might actually be ready to be with a man that I can see myself with on a permanent basis? God forbid that I want that for myself, and  that my "Friends" would actually want that for me.

I was more happy with a man that has three kids than any of the other guys I had dated before him. He knows what he wants, he works hard, and he knows what his priorities are.

First lesson as being a 27-year-old adult is: I don't need to explain myself. If these people, who I thought were really decent friends, can't get on board and be supportive of the things I'm trying to do, then they really aren't friends to begin with.

I can't believe some of the things I found out on my birthday. Including me being despearte and pitiful...and I just want to get married and it doesn't matter to who....If it didn't matter, then I would have stuck it out with the 30-year-old virgin, or Brad, or Kyle. I've had plenty of opprotunity to "just get married" if that's what I really wanted to do. It makes me so irritated when my friends think I'm settling. I know I've had a lot of "Dating disasters", but if you've never failed at something it means you've never tried in the first place.

Hop on board, or don't. I don't give a shit either way. I'm doing things that are true to me. That means that I'm going to have a few failures along the way. I'm okay with this, and I wish that others would be too. It just makes me realize who I can trust, and who I can't..

Wait!?!? Seriously it's my birthday??

That is not my actual cake...a girl can dream though. I'm not gonna lie kids, I'm freaking out about this birthday.

Over the weekend I would see and acknowledge the date, but I wouldn't think, "Oh Tuesdays my birthday!" like what I would normally do for every birthday. My roommate asked me Saturday what I wanted to do for my birthday, and I looked at her as though she was asking me a whole year in advance, "We have a while before we have to start talking about that." "Cass, we have three days."

I don't know why this birthday is having such an impact on me. Maybe because I have three more years until I'm 30, and I'm terrified I'm going to be in the exact same place in life as I'm in now. For those of you who don't know 30 is my scary age. It's the age where if I don't have everything accomplished that I want to accomplish then that's it. Game over. 30 to me is like Christopher Columbus claiming the world is flat. I'm afraid I'm going to fall off into a huge abyss of some greater unknown.

I definitely thought I would be in a completely different place by this age. I thought I'd be finicially stable, Have a job that I love making decent money, and atleast had one serious relationship under my belt.

I mean I'm making things happen. It's not like I'm not trying. I'll finish up shcool in August (By the time I finish my externship). Finicial stability will come with the better paying job, but the long term relationship.... I don't know what to think about that. I know the guy I want, but can't have. I always said by the time I'm 30 if I wasn't married and had kids then I wasn't going to. I realize that with each year that goal seems a little less attainable.

 *Sigh* 27, be kind to me.

5 Stages of the Single girls grieving process.

I am a genius....Some may disagree, but I have formulated a process or stages, if you will (And I will), of the Single Girls Grieving process. We all know about Elisabeth Kubler-Ross's Five Stages of Grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. As much as I would love to slap this on a piece of paper and call it my own.I realize it's different when you get your heartbroken. In my most recent experience I realize this is not what takes place; It's a whole different ball game when a man breaks your heart.

The 5 Stages of the Single Grieving Woman:

1. The Crying stage - You cry. That's all, at the drop of a hat. You listen to your saddest songs on your iTunes just so you cry. People come up to you and say something simple like, "How are you?" and then water works start. Luckily for me, my crying stage lasted from Saturday to Monday.


2. The "I Don't Give a Shit" stage - After the crying finally stops and you can actually manage to have a decent thought process you go into a depressive stage. Nothing makes you happy, nothing makes you smile. You can't, or don't want to feel anything because you've spent the last-who-knows-how-long crying your eyes out. You're mentally and emotionally exhausted. On the plus side, you've probably lost about 10 pounds because you've also stopped eating (Hey, right now you're looking for a bright spot, any bright spot...choose your battles I guess)


3. The Blame Stage - If the guy wasn't a complete asshole then you try to find someone to blame, anyone really. Blame the mailman, or the guy that brings the lunch trolley around. Anyone will do really. Blaming someone is easier to do than dealing with the hurt you're faced with right. Blame the dog cause they'll love you regardless, and they'll still want to snuggle with you.


4.The Mad Stage - You get mad at the asshole (Even if he wasn't an asshole to begin with he broke your heart right!?!) who broke your heart. " That son-of-a-bitch will rue the day he broke my heart!! He'll rue it I tell you!!" or, "Who the hell does he think he is??" You get angry in your brain. Again, getting mad at the man will make it easier to deal with the pain. I say, let the obscenities flow.


5. The I'm Fabulous Stage - You realize that you are a fabulous woman. Now, since you've lost 20 pounds since you're appetite has not since returned from the "I don't give a shit" Stage, you need to change something. You get a new wardrobe or you change your hair. Something so you're a little bit different than the person you were before. I changed my hair. Long and blonde, to short and dark. The price to pay to change who you are. This is the end stage before you return to a somewhat normal state.

See, I told you I'm a flippin genius. Now since I've broken it down, I'm off to cure the world of cancer or solve world hunger or something like that...Actually, I'm off to get started on a paper for my Diversity in Society class (lame I know). The next 15 weeks can go by as fast as they want to...that's all I'm sayin'.

Tell me when you hear my heart stop....Tell me when you hear my silence

Three weeks was all it took for me to fall in love. I hate myself for letting it happen, and I don't regret it. If I could rewind and do it all over again, I would. Even with the heart break I'm left to deal with now, the constant stream of tears that won't seem to end, and the fact that my mind won't let my body get any rest. I'd do it over again. It was the most wonderful three weeks I've experienced, and as much as I would have loved for it to continue, I realize that it cannot.

They say when you least expect it, it happens and it did. I never expected this, and I wasn't looking for it. It was a hit and run and now I'm left to pick up the pieces. This story doesn't have a happy ending kids, but I need to get this out. This wasn't supposed to happen and it did. I met this amazing truly wonderful man; very kind, and extremely gracious. A man, that when I walked into a room that was it. I was the only one there. A man, who would give me one look, and all those butterflies would start to flutter.... What does it matter now?

I don't hate him, and I don't think that's the impression I'm giving off. I respect his decision. I would have made the same one if it had been me in his position.. Or would I? I'm a very curious person, but I can say with confidence I would have made the same decision. He needed to do what's best for him and the people who this effects. I want him to do what makes him happy. I want the best for him and his; he deserves it.

My bed doesn't feel the same without him. Last night I was so cold and couldn't warm up, and I was hoping that I would just feel his arms around me; to feel him next to me. I know, it's only been three weeks, I know it may seem that I'm over reacting, but what I feel for him is strong and very real. He's a great man, and I went in head first, with out consequence.

I just want to know why. Why did we have this chance meeting to have it end like this? What was the purpose of this? I would really love to know God. What was your plan for this? I was happy; content even before this happened. It knocked me on my ass, and I'm having a hard time picking myself back up. I need to. I have to. I'm starting my last semester tomorrow, and I need to be focused.... Need to be, but probably won't be.

I need to work on getting over him. I need to accept that he's not coming back, and I need to move on; pack up all the feelings and put them back in their case. Maybe one day I'll get them back out. I'm choosing not to be optimistic about it.

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love”. -Neil Gaiman

I don't hate love, I hate the feeling it leaves you with when it goes.

Here we go Cass, one step at a time.

Graduations and the Indian.

On December 4th, I had the wonderful pleasure of seeing my most favorite love, Tara, graduate from Nursing school. I rode with Amanda and her BF Jason, and it was a pleasant time. We didn't stay for long, but I saw her graduate, maybe I held back a few tears as I saw her waddle her 8 month pregnant belly up to the stage to recieve her pin, that her grandpa helped pin to her jacket, and we left. Now this particular Sunday was a Sunday that I worked, and so I had that next Monday off. I decided I wasn't ready to head for home yet, and I was feeling like I was lookin' Migh*T*Fine, so I had decided that if my most favorite bar Z's wasn't busy I'd stop in for a beer and some buffalo rolls.

I drove around the joint first to scope out the scene and it did look pretty dead, so I parked my car and headed in. Now the rectangle bar is situated right in middle of the room, there are boothes right when you walk in off the the left and off to the right side of the bar are all tables. When you walk in you look at one of the short ends of the rectangle, and so I decided to situation myself at one of the bar stools at that end of the bar. I knew the bar tender working, so I felt safe leaving my jacket and purse at the bar while I went to the bathroom. I gave my drink order to Nita, and walked around the side of the bar were the boothes are. Now, I'm a pretty observant person I think, so I did notice the gentleman setting in the first booth; I noticed that he was an Indian man, and I noticed that he was giving me the eye.

Over the years I've begun to realize what the eye means. When I first got the eye, I thought maybe this person thought I was incredibly ugly.... ya know like so ugly you couldn't turn your eyes away from them, you had to stare at them just because they were so ugly (Yes, I have great self esteem!!) Then I thought that maybe I had something on my face, or even *gasp* in my nose! ( I think that is the most embarrassing thing ever is when you have a big ole boogy in your nose for the world to see.) Back then, I didn't know when someone was hitting on me or if they really were. I was that oblivious to it. Over time though, I learned what the eye ment, and this Indian man was definitely giving me the eye.

When I returned from the bathroom this man had moved his seat from the booth to the bar about 5 seats down from me. "Awesome" is what I thought. Now, I'm not opposed to dating outside my race, but a person from that part of the world has a completely different belief system then I do. Not even religion either, but how they treat their women. It's not bad, but they expect the women to be very submissive, which I don't mind out to a certain degree. I feel in order for me to submit to a man they need to earn it out of respect.

Anyway, so this man starts talking to me (Of course I saw it coming a mile away) and I make small talk, but pretend that I'm more interested in the football game then anything.... As the night progresses he goes out for a smoke and I send this text to my friend Amanda, "Since I left you, my night has taken a terrible turn. I have found myself at Z's being hit on by an Indian man."

When the man came back from his cigarette break, he sat even closer to me. He even started putting his hand on my back on rubbing my arm... *Roll the eyes* Just because I'm talking to you doesn't give you permission to start touching me. After a while my friend Lauren comes to my rescue....Kinda. As much as I'm trying to talk to Lauren this man keeps interrupting and then after I've almost completed my second beer, and I'm contemplating ordering a third this man goes, "How many of those have you had tonight?" I looked at him and said, "This is my second....why?" "Well, becuase those are not very good for you." My thought process was...I'm going to punch him.....Yep, he can fuck off....mixed with a couple other thoughts that seem cloudy to me now. I said, "Excuse me, but they aren't any worse than that cigarette you went out to smoke." How fucking rude, You don't know me why are you lecturing me about my alcohol consumption. Then he proceeded to want to talk about how much I made at my job. None of your damn business is what I responded with.

Needless to say I was thrilled when this man left, and I was left to indulge in my unhealthy habits.... Go back to China bitch is what I really wanted to say.

Can you see my vagina?

Of course you can't because it's hidden with the camo under roo's!

How did I come across these camoflaged pantaloons?? My mother!! Can you believe my mother bought me lingerie!

I discovered these when my mother had sent me home with a bag of "scrubs". Now, when she handed over this bag she stated scrubs. She made no mention of sexy under pants. I get this bag home, and neglect to look through it for probably about a week. Then the magical day came when I actually had a day off and had time to look through it, and to my amazement I found the above pictured panties. Now, I HATE the word panties, for whatever reason it sounds feminine and stupid. BUT they are panties! I mean look at them! they're frilly and camoflaged!

I didn't come across them at first, infact they were the last pair I lifted out of the bag, and if I remember correctly I think I laughed and then gasped. Why would my mother buy me such a pair of underwear? Does she think she raised a harlett? Who in the hades would I wear these for?

I mean I don't have a lot of sexy underwear, and when I do decide to get it on it's not like the clothes are left on for a long time. I mean I just don't understand why my mother bought me such a pair of underwear!?!?! It's not like they're comfortable enough to wear like day to day. When I think, "What underwear can I put on today to run to the supermarket." my brain does not automatically jump to the camo under roo's that are sitting in the under roo drawer. No, no, no I definitely think of something more sensible to put on.

When I asked my mother about the under roo's she said she bought them for her, but didn't really like them, so she thought she'd give them to me. "Who do you think I'm going to wear these for?" I asked her, "Well, I hope not for anyone!" Now, she knows that I'm not some innocent virgin the fact is that she thought I'd wear them for someone. Iyiyi.....What's going to happen next.

I did secretly wear them out Thursday.....The guy I'm dating now really likes them ;o)