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