Ramen with Chile Sauce

The other day I was walking home from work and this older black guy with a cane flagged me down from across the street and asked me to come talk to him. I did. His name was Andre' and he had no front teeth and was drinking a sparks. Was lit because he couldn't get that dopey smile off of his face for a second to actually compose an intelligent thought. The more we talked, the more he eyed me up and down and the worse the subject matter got. Then he said, "Well I'm a freak and I can tell you're a freak and I wanna freak with you" and proceeded to grab me and grope me. It was terrifying and I just thrashed out of his grip and walked home crying. Some guy was painting a house ten feet away and didn't do anything at all. And while tears are running down my face, some fat guy in a minivan rolls by, flicking his tongue in and out at me. I used to be okay with living in this neighborhood. And I still am for the most part, but I can't stand being objectified like this on a daily basis. I just hurt inside because no matter what I do, I still can't gain respect from scumbags because of sex and the media and how distorted their view of women has become.
As soon as the lease is up in this house, I'm going to move over seas. I'm going to start saving now and just get out of here. This country is going to hell. Think about it and come with me.

I've nearly stopped smoking. Three cigarettes in the past couple of days. An accomplishment. I feel the difference. Last nite after practice, James and Adam and I all drove out to pick up a sack from some guy like thirty minutes away. Everyone is dry so whatever. I love it when you haven't smoked in a few days from lack of green and then just inhale the smell of it. I'll never get tired of that scent. Lovely skunky scent. So we drove home, baking the car and dancing to Parliament, swerving around on the high way. I realized that all of my negative emotions and feelings are all in my head and I can alter my mood by just coaxing myself to calm down and enjoy the moment. I felt so good last nite. Better then I have in a very very long time. We came home and I slipped into a smoothie bath and wrote Rachel for a while. Then James stole me away upstairs and we ravaged eachother. He's kissing me and says, "I don't kiss you enough. I'm so sorry," and proceeds to attack me all over. Perfect.

Two more days and then I finally get a day off. Going to fix my french bike and spend it at a park taking pictures.

Screw

Laundry.
My new project, unfini.

So I've been feeling queasy in the mornings and I went off birthcontrol some time ago, not exactly sure, and I know flow is late. It's nerve racking and I've been having dreams about James and I building a house on rollers in the ocean (so you can feel the tide come in), holding a small child. I told him yesterday that I think that I could be... well you know. We took the dog for a walk and talked about it. Neither of us are ready or really want to be. There'd be no way to support something like this. We talked about abortion :/ and how it's all situational. He talked about adoption. Anyway, I guess we're waiting another two weeks to see if perhaps this is just my body getting used to being without fake hormones and the like and if not... I guess we'll deal with that when we get there. Absolutely there's no way we'd keep and raise a child right now. And yeah.

Pregnancy scares. Blah.

I stayed home with Matt last nite while James was playing his show and listened to him play Pumpkins songs all nite while painting that shelf. That thing was screwed to the wall and we were drinking 40's of mexican cerveza and I screamed at the stupidity of some fucker nailing a shelf like that to a wall. But it's nowhere near finished and if I could make a living painting furniture, that'd be enough for me right now. Matt drank more than me and we ended up just talking for two hours or so. I really like Matt. Especially when he's drunk because he lets his guard down and rambles alot and you can basically ask him anything. He wants to buy a house when our lease is up. I don't even know where James and I will be come another six months, but it's chilling to think. We could be at opposite ends of the country or even the world, really. Who knows...

I've also been having lots of panic attack scares. They'll start to come on and I'll wrestle them away only to be breathless for two hours or until I just fall asleep. Stressful. I hate the feeling of not being able to get a decent breath. And all I want is for my body to just do it and get it over with, but no, it only teases me, keeping me in some kind of boundary. I really need to quit smoking already.

How long have I been ranting about this? Seriously, slap me.

Fall Fell

It's so beautiful out. Fall is everywhere, finally, and all the trees are turning. This is the best time of the year, always.

Snapshots as of Late

Sweet.

James.
How he sneaks in these weird faces, I don't know.
Fugee-love.
Boycotting makeup, happy with my face as is.
She's lucky she's cute because Lola is such a pain in the ass. And lately has been such a terror to this house. BUT, whatever...

Sunday Mornings

I love Sunday mornings. For some reason, the world is quieter and more at peace. I refuse to link this to the fact today is a holy day or that everyone is at worship, blah blah blah. I think Sunday mornings have just become that day of rest and regeneration, regardless if you have a religious affiliation.

This weekend has been up & down. I got my paycheck... but turns out I'm not on the $8.25 payrate like they said I might be so the check was considerably less money then I had expected. James was nice enough to let me pay him back in installments of $100 because if I gave him everything I owe him now.. I'd be penniless again. So frustrating. But yesterday I went and sold all of my skinny pants except for the first two pairs I ever bought, which are soft and worn and full of holes like I like em, and went thrifting for work clothes and the like. I'm just tired of tight pegged pants. Yeah whatever, they're cute, but they were cuter when every fucking girl wasn't walking around wearing them... or every guy for that matter. So I'm resorting back to the good ol' boot cut style and my gold flats. I'm tired of trendy fashions and being considered scene and all of that bullshit. Plus skinny pants are not the most comfortable pants in the world.

Yeah anyway, like pants really matter all that much anyway.

I had been cigarette free for two days, but the other nite James and I got ridiculously stoned and I had to cave. I couldn't stop fidgeting and and and.. excuses. We were laughing so hard we were crying and I almost peed my pants several times. I haven't laughed that hard since I was like thirteen or some shit. Good times. He and I are much better now. We talked and leveled a little about our relationship and I'm not so worried. Something we did realize is we need to start acting with our lives. I don't want to spend another year doing exactly what I'm doing now. It's depressing both of us and is also hurting our relationship. Or rather, keeping it stagnant. How can you commit yourself fully to someone if you feel you haven't fully accomplished everything in your own life? I can't feel like this failure being his wife... or whatever. It definitely destroys any desire or passion you have after a while, not having an outlet to feel accomplishment in. So, working on that. We're going to get more involved with -gasp- POLITICS and I'm mostly going to focus on art and music. I'm not ready to go back to school, I've realized. I mean, what I want to do right now is make money and save money. Which I'm doing. But I also want to express myself in other ways then journaling and the like. The hardest part is starting so once that's out of the way, things will start falling into place. (I hope)

I have this terrible personality flaw where I'll work really hard to get to one place and then stay there for forever because it's comfortable. Like I have been in this i'materriblefailuredepressedneurotic phase since moving out because moving out is a huge thing to get used to. And now that I'm used to it and went through all that shit to be here, I'm lingering with my next move because of the stress. That's bullshit and I know it which is why I can't let it go on. I don't want to die and just rot in the ground with nothing to show. Ew.

Be well.

Switch

I suppose I can never really get rid of having an online journal... but I can certainly grow out of what I've grown into all these years. Running away from greatestjournal, which is dying anyway. Mostly just tired of the dry, bland taste of journalers that have taken over, creating their rating communities that always die and never really having anything of importance or interest to say at all. Plus, I had to follow my lunalady here and stalk her because she's my heart.

BG- My name is Cassandra and I'm 21, currently residing in Denver, Colorado in the projects outside of the city. I live in a two story house with my boyfriend of a year+, James, and our roommate/friend/drinking buddy, Matt. We've got a pit/lab mix named Lola, a kitty named Fugee and all of her rugrats that she birthed out a month ago or so. I don't go to school, don't know if I ever will go back. The thought of paying for my education sickens me. I can learn just as much if not more with a fucking library card. I work for Starbucks, but it's really not as bad as it sounds. For now atleast. It's money, what can I say? I'm an artist and a lover and a neurotic who's trying to quit smoking and remain off prescription drugs. My dream is to play banjo in a folk/black metal/experimental band and sing, naming ourselves "bruises of love" and recording off of shitty reel to reel tapes. It will happen. Also, to travel and see the world, ride vespas in Europe and leave this country behind. I want to own my own coffee shop/art gallery/venue/book store and be the warm, thriving heart of a community of fellow artfags, musicians and lost creative souls. It seems so far away, but I've had dreams about this. And my name isn't Cassandra for nothing.

Today I finally get paid after three months of being absolutely penniless. I feel so relieved that I'll no longer be failing myself in that department and I can stop all this self destructive behavior. I hate to say, but I'll probably buy a pack of Red Stripe lager, fix my bike up and get lost in some park with my polaroid camera. Really I should be conserving my money, but I haven't been able to do anything for myself and am seriously feeling some disheartening thoughts about that.

love.