I Only Wanted

When I first started this blog, I wanted to discuss like real life stuff in it, you know? Now it seems like all I write about is Random Boy. This sorta makes sense, I guess... Since he's all I can really think about, but still. 

I think it's funny how I go through situations like these and isolate myself from everyone around me, thinking I'm the only one that's ever felt the way I'm feeling. Then I go and watch something like He's Just Not That Into You, and I realize that I'm a NORMAL girl. That NORMAL girls are stuck in my exact position EVERY DAY. This is a small relief, since it doesn't really make anything any easier, but at least I know that I'm not the only person pining over someone to the degree I'm doing.

Or, I guess.. Not anymore.

I know I haven't updated in forever, but RB and I hung out a few times since New Years. It was all really normal, which started freaking me out. He ate a meal with my mother and sister and me, we went out in public and he made dang sure everyone around us knew we weren't just friends, and he banged on my bedroom window at 3am one night because he felt so bad for flaking on me earlier that day. And, inevitably.. Despite my better logic, I had begun to get used to having him around. This was dangerous, because he's volatile and flighty, and I think it was just a matter of time before he up and left again. 

So about a week ago, I picked him up from his house around midnight to sneak him into my old room at my mom's, since it was closest. There, with a little help from Sailor Jerry and a couple of hickeys on his neck that had nothing to do with me, I confessed everything to him. Sort of..

I told RB that I wanted to start gearing my mind away from random hookups and towards something more stable. I told him that I really really liked him, but that since he wasn't a stable person, he needed to remove himself from my life. I was a little harsher than I wanted to be, and in retrospect, I should have framed this more as a question than a demand, but the point is that I stood up for myself and the lack of respect I thought he was showing me. Much to my surprise, he seemed more hurt than anything else. He furrowed his brow and told me he was insulted, but that if I really wanted him to leave me alone, he understood and would adhere to my wishes. I think that when I had run through the scenario in my head before, I'd seen him as angry. Of course, I secretly hoped that he'd tell me he didn't want to disappear, and that he'd make himself something more stable (coughBOYFRIENDcough), which I know is pathetic, but hey. This sorta middle ground wasn't what I'd expected at all, and I remember (vaguely) becoming a little flustered and mumbling something about how it wouldn't be hard for him to find another girl to make out with.

It was here that he got mad, declaring "When I leave here in the morning, I'm not going to be thinking 'Damn... Now I've gotta go find a new girl to make out with...' I'm going to be like 'Damn... I'm never going to see Cassidy again.' You're not just some girl to me, you're you." 

Which sounds really cute, right? But the point is he still left. He didn't make some grand gesture of his feelings for me, or go into panic mode and try to persuade me to change my mind. He "respected my decision;" he "got what I needed to do." 

So why do I feel like I did it all wrong?

I know I should be proud of myself. Tons of girls would have stayed in the bad situation until the bad boy disappeared again or, worse, they would have become so desperate to hold his attention that they would have given everything up to him without any sort of commitment. So I should be patting myself on the back, right? 

That's what I'm trying to do. I'm trying to stop thinking about him, so I'll try to stop writing about him.

We can get to real issues now. No more messy Random Boy drama. Scout's honor.

All I Want for Christmas is You

So! Happy holidays! Happy new year! Hello 2009!

I've been absent, I know, because it feels like I've been working every day for the past month. I'm out of school, though, with TWO PASSING GRADES so far, which has me rather stoked as it means I don't have to become a stripper. Yay! To welcome this already amazing year, I've got a pretty long list of resolutions. Some people think they're silly, but I like to set goals for myself sometimes, and this is a perfect excuse. Topping the list are going vegan for lent (if not longer), getting over people I need to get over*, and becoming more independent. There are a bunch more, like:

• start driving the speed limit
• bring up my gpa
• get the perfect figure (36-24-36)
• make girl friends
• take more pictures
• join a club or two at school

to name a few. Last year, I wanted to go vegetarian for lent, and just kept at it, so I'm hoping to be able to go all the way. It shouldn't be too hard. Being more independent, now that my hours are seriously cut at the Paragon, won't be difficult either, since I'm being forced to find a job in the city and won't need to sleep at home every weekend. However, getting over people that are bad for me may not be too easy. In fact, about four hours after I watched the ball drop with my Orinda friends, I got a *message from Random Boy on myspace.

Seriously. I freaked out for a bit, responded viciously, and held my own against his charm until he called me. Even then, I called him names and asked how he'd been living with himself for about half an hour, at which point I hung up to get dressed and go meet him at his friend's house. As a quick recap, the last we'd talked was Halloween, before he'd started completely ignoring my calls and messages. So I admit my weakness, and realize from telling this story that I look like a total fool for him. Maybe I am. 

But life isn't a fairy tale, and I waited eighteen years to find a boy that flipped all the right switches in me. Even in high school, when I liked Tall Guy, then Tall Boy, and eventually French Boy, they only ever had my heart all aflutter. It sounds a little gross, maybe, to those of you that may be squeamish, but Random Boy is sexy. His smile, his mouth, the way he answers the phone; all of it just turns me on. It's insane and illogical, but hey. It is what it is. So I went to his friend's house, and we talked like nothing had ever happened. I slipped in a couple bitter little snippets here and there, but for the most part, we were the same twosome we'd been when we first met. 

And then he kissed me, and all of a sudden it was morning, and he was afraid the house was going to start waking up. I got up to leave, and he came with me. Skipping over all the gory details, I snuck him out the next morning to go to work a zombie; running on about 45 minutes of sleep. 

And now he's messaging me. I don't really know what to think or do, or even who to ask about it. Obviously, I should be ignoring him. Obviously, I should be running far, far away. But, by use of that particular strain of logic, I shouldn't have let him be my New Year's kiss. But he was. So what now? 

Mini-Me says it might be good to just be friends, and take out all the benefits. My Work Bff scolds that I should completely ignore him. My Prima Ballerina has just said that she wants to meet him if he's going to be sticking around, but I don't know what to do. 

Idk. Advice?

ON another note, it's sunday right now. Sorta. Technically monday, but I'm not going to count it that way. Yesterday, we had 200 Chinese walk-ins come into my restaurant wanting tables and food. I did the best I could, but only managed to seat 150 of them, and probably only 50 of them comfortably. None of them tipped well, all of them were irreparably rude, and I'm pretty sure a few of them talked about me in chinese right in front of my face! Worst day ever?

Earlier tonight, while I was complaining to the Chinese Bartender about his ill-mannered brethren, another busser came in and told me I looked cute the way I was huffing and puffing. The Chinese Bartender mentioned that though he loves me, he'd never have the "hots" for me because I'm white. He then went on to say that in all his 48 years, he'd only dated Asian girls.

I'm sorry, but this offended me. FIRST OFF, if I were to make the blanket statement "I only date white guys," I would be immediately tacked as a hardcore, disgusting racist. What gives other races the right to distinguish like that? ESPECIALLY because he wasn't even really distinguishing. It'd be one thing if he said "I only date Chinese women," because then at least he'd have some reason. He wasn't born here, so it'd make sense for him to only want to date women who could speak his language with him at home or whatever. But what about a Japanese? Or a Korean? Or a Viet? What makes them any better than a white or black girl?

Stupid.

Anyways. That was random, haha. Just sorta bothering me. I'm going to head in. I'll try, since I've got loads of time on my hands now, to write more. =)

ps: I didn't throw Random Boy's birthday present away. It was kinda/sorta stolen from me by the Vegas Bro. Like, he asked me why I had it and I told him why, and he decided that I shouldn't give it to a guy that I didn't talk to anymore. So he took it for himself. Jerk move, sure, since I'm not even certain he'll put it to good use, but it wasn't like I could have done anything with it.

Shake it Off

When I was in high school, I was pretty much a genius. Everything came easily to me, and I could pass all the APUSH, Biology, or Physics test that came my way without giving them much thought. It's strange watching my sister struggle through her tenth grade chemistry work, and I've never been able to understand how some people just don't get english. Nowadays, frustration always seems to be by my side during class. I'm having a lot of trouble focusing on anything; and even though I can't tell if it's lack of passion for the subject or random bouts of ADD that have got me skipping lectures and shrugging off homework assignments, I can definitely say I'm one bad college student. 

I guess I'm not out answering booty calls or snorting coke. I'm not even tagging buses or getting chased on streetcorners like some of my friends are.. I'm just not really doing anything.

When did I become so lazy?

I had my first final of the semester today. I promised myself all last week that I was going to study all weekend, because my last bout of the flu had me absent from three classes in a row, and alot of the final material was then lost on me. So, friday rolls around, but by the time I get off work, I'm too exhausted to do anything but go to bed. Saturday I got off early, only to be greeted by a drunk text from my Mini-Me as she was kicked out of her high school dance for puking while waiting in line. Needless to say, I was too busy trying to cover that up to start hitting the books. So, on sunday, even though I was totally determined to try and teach myself some Meteorology, I didn't wake up until way after noon. Having to be at work by 5, this left me very little time to do anything more than get ready and dilly dally. 

So I get back to my apartment at eleven and take out all my stuff. SOMEHOW, I managed to waste TWO HOURS doing I don't even remember what before I actually open my books and start perusing my notes. I probably got a good half hour in, before nearly falling asleep at the kitchen table and deciding I should just go to bed.

In the end, the final was a mess. Not a total disaster, but a mess. I'm not really sure how to feel about it, because the last time we had a big test I thought I failed, I ended up scoring an 80. Hot Metr Professor, who I at one time had a very small crush on, gave me tons of extra points for the stupidest things: correcting his spelling, attempting the problem with totally backwards logic, and drawing a correct picture but explaining it completely wrong, to name a few. So, this time, I drew little illustrations on the sidelines of the pages, hoping to at least make him smile. People are always more lenient when they're smiling. 

I read in Cosmo that if you get pulled over for speeding, the best thing to tell the cop is that you really need to use the bathroom. This might make him laugh, and understand your urgency. Speeding is definitely one thing I need to cut down on... But I was voted Biggest Procrastinator, and it seems as though I'm ALWAYS late for something, so... Hm.

But anyways. One final down, three to go. The next two shouldn't be so bad, and hopefully my ego won't be too bruised by my final meteorology grade.

The Beautiful Ones

Once upon a time, I received a friend request from a cute, unthreatening, random boy that lived near my dad's house. At this point, I was sorta/kinda dating a two-month boy, so I didn't give him much thought. We messaged back and forth a couple times, but I honestly thought it was sorta weird and pretty much blew him off.

A summer later, he messaged me again. This time, Random Boy was cuter, more daring, but had a girlfriend. We flirted, and he asked me for my number. BUT, when I asked him why he was able to be so brazen with me while his relationship status CLEARLY said "in a relationship," he very sketchily cut off our communications. 

Almost a year later, the night after I was asked rather abruptly for a blowjob from my only current prospect, Random Boy appeared in my inbox again! He was sweet, single, and brought me a horde of compliments that was like a fresh bouquet of posies to me. I was in the middle of my second semester at SFSU, and college boys had shown themselves to generally be way too fast, horny, and grabby for my tastes. The way Random Boy seemed genuinely interested in how my day went, his near over-eagerness to make me laugh, and how impressed (instead of weirded out) he was by the fact I'd never gone any further than first base with a guy all mixed to have me immediately hooked on him; I was rushing home after class to check my inbox, and our conversations got more and more personal. 

This time around, I did give him my phone number, and after three consecutive five-hour phone calls, he decided he had to see me in person. I had him come to my dad's house while he wasn't home, which I thought was a good show of trust along with a reminder of the hulking figure that was my father were any harm to come to me. We walked to the park, put pennies on train tracks, talked until it was dark, and then returned to my house. There, we watched Harry Potter, made s'mores on the stove, and talked about not kissing until he had to go home. His smile was contagious, his arms were huge, and he picked me a flower. I was instantly twitterpated, which is probably why I snuck him in to my house the next night while everyone was asleep. 

Long story short, across a span of about two months, he told me he "really really" liked me, that he wanted to be my boyfriend, and that he couldn't wait for me to meet all of his friends. He wanted my sister to approve of him, wanted to tell my dad he liked his garden, and played guitar hero (losing graciously) with my brother. 

I think I was falling in love. 

And then he disappeared.

From then, there were four months of me pining, worrying, and wondering what I did wrong. I stopped feeling pretty, smart, or adequate in any way. I think it's safe to say I was legitimately, clinically depressed, and I couldn't control myself. I lashed out at my family, slept more than ever, and even ran away from home one night just to realize I had nowhere to go. All summer, I kept trying to get over it, but every time I got myself a little space, something would happen to remind me. I kept thinking he was going to call, was sure that he'd reappear.

It was the day before my birthday that I got a sign from whatever those powers up there may be to call him. 

Sparknotes version: I did, and we hung out; we made out a little (a lot..), and he said he'd call. The validation of just having him still want me was already boosting me so much that I didn't really care whether or not he flaked on me again. I told myself it wouldn't matter either way, and figured I wouldn't be hearing from him again.

But he called. He called and we talked and he hooked me all over again. 

Until he disappeared. Again.

I've told this story in pieces as it happened to countless people, yet I've yet to get any good advice about it. I still think about Random Boy, and I still sorta/kinda wish he'd call me. 

Anyway. I'm wondering if this sort of thing happens alot. Do you think it's a common practice for boys to just up and disappear on girls they've promised tons of stuff? I've heard that it must be because I was too easy, or because I was too much of a tease. Maybe he didn't want a girlfriend at the time, maybe he doesn't think I'm girlfriend material. Maybe he's gay.

Who knows.

Random Boy's birthday is on friday. I had a present for him. Nothing big, but it was perfect, and now I don't know what to do with it. Friday's like three days away. Should I cross my fingers for a miracle, or should I be over it by now? I almost feel a little creepy holding this weathered torch for him, but it's not like I can deny it. 

Maybe I'll throw the present away.

Idk. Let this be a lesson to all:

The beautiful ones will hurt you every time.

I'll Be Loving you Long Time

Well hello there, world of blogger. I am Cassidy, you are my devoted audience. I'm changing, and you're going to watch me do it through daily (probably not) posts of reflection and analysis. HOWEVER, since I'm incredibly tired and not up to any deep ramblings right now, I'll just while away at a little introduction.

So yes. I'm Cassidy, or Cassie or Cakie or -for you xbox owners- ikilldinosaurs. I live, sleep, and learn in San Francisco, California, and drive a little white car. I have three roomates I'm slowly but surely falling in love with, and my hair is always changing colors. I'm a wild adapter, and am reobsessed with Mariah Carey (even though she'll never outshine Muse in my eyes). 

I've created one of these because many of my high school azns have, but this will NOT be your average bored-girl blog. No no no, I am going to tackle the tough issues, hash out details everyone else is scared to bring up, and hopefully (?) make you laugh a little. =) 

I spend way too much money on books, and haven't eaten meat since February 10, 2008. I have very few female friends on account of I'm incredibly lazy and can't maintain them with their crazy rules and what not, and my center of gravity is rather high. This makes for a girl that's a little clumsy both socially and physically, though I always put in at least a little effort to convince you it's all very endearing. I'm pretty complicated, though I wouldn't say it's that sort of complicated that's really interesting. In fact, I'm more like a bunch of necklaces somebody threw in one jewelry box that are now impossible to separate. AND, since I was probably born to be a writer of some sort, and also have a great fear of letting people in too far, I'd say it'd be safe to get used to extended metaphors that disguise what I really mean. Kay?

Cool. We're gonna have a great relationship.

Till tomorrow! =D