Sometimes

i wish i were weak enough to do it again.

i miss your voice.

As far as marriage proposals go

"Hurry up and get rich so you can come to la and then you can get famous and make me famous too and the paparazi will merge our names together for the tabloids"

Confused Letter

it's exhausting- all this deciphering. but then again, so is waiting.
i want to stay away from all your words for fear of misinterpretting them, but then again, i want to hear your words, and there's no other way to get them.
it's not like i wouldn't misinterpret a conversation with you either, especially a conversation with you. God, you're so complicated.

P.S. Cassey, you should build a time machine.

Magnificient Thinking

Roughly. Love wipes away the fog in your heart and gives your life meaning. When its cloudy you dont see whats real. And i now conclude that we are here to love


^not my words, i had to put them somewhere so i could empty my inbox.

Cassey- quite the qualified color

Jesus-type Wishes

I wish i could pour all the liquor in the world down a big drain. Let it lead to hell, to where they're already tortured enough and booze can't hurt their livers or relationships anymore. I wish i could steal every box of cigarettes and snatch every cigar from your mouth and jump on them until they disintegrate and their poison seeps down to the doomed underworld. Let them drink from the ceiling and inhale all the tar and nicotine. You're killing yourself, but they're already dead. These things are for them. Not for us. As long as you're breathing, you're alive, no matter how dead you feel. You matter to people, people look up to you, people are waiting to watch you succeed. Love yourself as much as they love you. It's really not that hard, just let us.

family visits

I've been to these houses before. But I only know who they belong to when I scan the hallway pictures on the way to the bathroom. On prancing tippy toes I'd try to absorb as much of their family history as I possibly could before my prancing became lord of the dance speed and I'd have to run (not as gracefully) to the baby hued bathroom. That's another thing about my mom's side- the frilly bathrooms. They're always baby blue or pink or coral, and their scallopped window treatments always match their scallopped toilet seat covers, always with hand embroidered pink carnations. Clear Softsoap by every sink. It seems the only modern thing in there is the toothbrushes.
Back in the hallway, I can look at the pictures more, trying to waste time here instead of just wasting away at the dining room table while the adults talk. 'Oh, I know her,' I think remembering the tall, thin woman with her long curls bouncing. Wow, she looks almost the same from her first communion picture, except of course, she no longer has a bob and she has boobs and hips now. "I hope I'll grow up to look like her," I wish to myself, thinking about how everyone says how big my eyes are while they look at my overalled tummy. Noooow, I understand why everyone would call me 'gorda'.

Scripted

i wish life were a tv show; it'd be a lot more predictable.
a lot easier to plan out. and i'd know for sure i'm the protagonist.

fear immobilizes and destroys.

Semana de los Muertos

it's winters like this that make me want to run away, fly away across the country again
it's weeks like this that make me want to freeze time or erase responsiblities for a while
it's days like this that make me want to only carry one emotion not to feel so overwhelmed with news and constant changing emotions
You loved me once, and that's all i need to remember. you really loved me. I will continue to love you, even if you're not here with me. I'll miss you, i wish i could've said goodbye.

la voyante

is it sick to think this is funny?
oh, lord, i love understanding human nature. i love being able to forsee the future.
deny, deny, deny; doesn't matter cuz i've already seen see see what you wish wasn't true. i see it in you, no need to hide it. i accept it, i have accepted it, iknew i'd have to. need not be ashamed, though, we're all hypocrites in our own right. and this is why i don't walk up to you and tear off your faces. i see your human sides. i only wish you had done me the same favor. but again, it's okay, i'm used to it. i am cassandra, never believed, never paid attention to because all i say is "false". the fortune teller is never believed.

Honest Abe

if i'm anything, one thing, i'd like to believe i'm honest. I'm not always blunt, but i'm honest. i can't help it. it's my strong point, it's my downlfall. it's gotten me in trouble, but it's kept me pure. i can stand, with my shoulders down, and my chin held at a middle class position, that i am not a liar. I AM HONEST. i can tell myself when i'm being stupid, i can tell when others are being stupid.
Honesty isn't accepted very well in society; have you noticed?
People get feelings, and get attached to those feelings, and believe they are defined by those feelings, but i see the reasons behind those feelings. i know you do too. but i feel like i'm the only one willing to go there. to go to the heart of the problem. to bring forth the truth lingering in a dusty corner in your conscious. why are we so sensitive? and so afraid to feel by our own will?

he fucked you over? eh, not quite, let's rewind. he's a dick, you knew that when you met him... you liked him becauseee he was a dick... you knew it would end badly...
need i go on?
we as humans are afraid to admit the TRUTH to ourselves, we're afraid of reality. we are our own pyschics, but we'd like to believe OTHERS can change. it's not up to them in your future, it's up to YOU. it's how YOU approacht hte situation, it's IF you approach the situation. We hurt ourselves. and we allows others to hurt themselves. another vicious cycle.
I guess what i'm saying is, it's your choice, if it gets to you, if it bothers you. YOU have the power to say "no, fuck you, i'm stronger than getting upset over you." and i'm not reffering to people,; this theory encompasses everything in life. a tree smashed your car? "fuck you, i'm gonna take the bus." a coworker called you a whore? "fuck you, i know who i am." your mom says, "and that's why you have no friends!"? "fuck you."

ey, i'm honest.

Daily Tarot 10/9

The Two of Chalices card suggests that my power today lies in compromise. I am not alone. I offer and accept love, support, and happiness to connect with the pleasure and beauty of my hearts desire. There are two sides to everything and I don't always have to be right. I am empowered by expression and my gift is attraction.

Hey guys?

What happened?
I think what's driving me crazy is that i DON'T KNOW.
Well, isn't that the theme of the year- not knowing.
Charlie Brown said it best,with an accepting sigh, "good grief"

este corazon sigue llorando pa' nada

Today's just one those days
where you want to tear your heart out
and leave it somewhere else to pound
it's so fucking loud within my frail body
i can't take much more news
with ever quake, my stomach turns a bit
and the sound seems to resonate in me
the epicenter needs to shut the fuck up.
this feeling, oh god, this feeling.

Save Buddah

Hate is not overcome by Hate; by Loving Kindness alone is Hate appeased. This is an eternal law. -THE BUDDAH

Ey, i tried.

Another one bites the dust

another one goes down
because of grief
inflicted by a failed relationship.

i thought God made us stronger than that.
we should of course work in harmony with others
but to be dependent on them?
i don't think that was the plan.

poor kyle conner
but then agian, poor karina
that's such a heavy burden to have on your heart.
to know you were the last thought in the boy's mind.
that you were the reason he took too much.

i'm sorry.
i wish you both well, the living and the fallen.

An honest mistake

By george, i've got it.
It's not that i'm jealous, or was ever jealous, i felt like shit and continue to have doubts because you made me feel inadequate. As if i wasn't a good friend, or an adequate human being. I can't find another word for it, because i've finally figured it out! There's nothing an arian hates more than feeling inadequate.

We're gonna be famous- OCEAN CITY

taste the air
on our moonlit drive
to ocean city
dont ask the time
cuz i ain't got the time
ain't it a pity
the airs calamity
electric carousel
floating on the sea
love is free
on our moonlit drive
to ocean city

I don't know why
You waste your time with pity
When you could fly
And change your life in the city

here i stand
shackled head to toe
in the country
and i cant breathe
because my heads asleep
and i'm lazy
the summer leaves
all of them for sale
except for me
my hair is free
and i can dream
of ocean city

I'm done posting my complicated shit here.

Finding comfort in the uncomfortable

it's like elementary school now. You know?
hanging out with people you like, but don't really wanna hang out with
and answering qustions in every class because nobody else will
and giving idiotic commentary to almost everything..

though an awkward situation, i feel at home. Welcome back to school, kids.

When my earth shook.

Your world makes my heart speed up.
The anxiety of being serious and correct unnerves me.
I wanted to be comfortable with you but eventually, i wore out; i just couldn't do it.
it felt so unnatural- my heart palpitating with every word and long pause. I wanted to prove to you i was worthy. I wanted to prove to myself i can make anyone open up. I wanted to be the savior. All i ended up doing was giving myself a seizure. I cried that night, in my mother's arms, wishing i could explain fully why my heart hurt so bad. But of course i couldn't so i just shook more. Shook because i was furious, shook because i was betrayed, shook because i honestly loved you, shook because i would have never released one of our shared secrets, shook because that's what your world did to me.
Tomorrow, no matter what, i'm going to talk to you. I don't care if you don't want to. Because i know, you do want to. Your Scorpian pride gets in the way but my arien persistance won't let you get away.

Fuck periods.

I'm pissed. but i don't care anymore.
I'm sick of this. but i miss you.
i hate your childishness. but i'm complaining on a blog.
i want to break down and cry. but i swore i wouldn't let you affect me.
i'm menstrual; just let me be.

My personal history

On April 10, 1993, I, Cassandra Raquel Ramirez, was born and welcomed into the colorful world that is Mexican American Los Angeles. I grew up learning two languages- English and Spanish- simultaneously. When I was with my babysitter Alé, we’d walk to the grocery store, like most Mexican housewives do, in the middle of the day when the sun was at its highest point. Walking to the market was a chore but once we arrived, I’d marvel at all the hand-painted piggy banks and piñatas lining the tops of the shelves. They were never the same; the piggy banks weren’t even shaped like pigs. There were Disney princesses, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, quinceñera girls with poofy dresses, and others all containing the most beautiful, bright, rich colors. It was here, I began to fall in love with my culture- watching Alé choose the very best produce for her family, planning exactly what she was to use everything for during the week, and glancing up at all the colors around me- not only the piggy banks and the piñatas, but the fruits and vegetables, too. Being a child of the moonbounce-piñata-pastel que tu tia decoro celebration has made me appreciate the hard work ethic and the perpetual enjoyment of life my culture is known for.
At the age of four, I sat on Alé’s living room floor trying to avoid the staring eyes of Jesus in the painting down the hallway. They had rented the movie Selena(1997) and we were all watching it for the first time. In one of the scenes, JLo, portraying Selena, just looked out on the huge crowd listening to the “ahhhhh” screaming of the audience. All we could see was her silhouette, a few sparkles on her costume, the darkened faces of the audience, and the blinding lights that helped her to shine, and I got the chills. At that very moment, listening to my inner screaming crowd of fans, I decided I wanted to be not only a singer, or a performer, but a LEGEND, just like her.
Growing up in a single parent home, one learns how to be alone a lot and which fast food places are give you the best meals quick and for a good price. Our Mecca, if you will, was McDonald’s. From Happy Meals, to Big Breakfast Deluxes, to Big ‘N Tastys, Ronald McDonald saw me through and literally fed my “fat kid” stage. I even had my 5th birthday party at McDonald’s, in the play area. A few close friends and a store-bought chocolate cake that we got to decorate with Mini M&M’s made me a happy fat kid. In danger of becoming obese and broke from eating out so much, the pre-teen Cassey veered towards salads and grilled chicken. I learned to appreciate my body and that I don’t want to be polluting it with McDonald’s every week; now it’s just every month (just kidding).
The headaches started in fourth grade, and I’ve gotten one every day since the California mission report was assigned. Advil doesn’t work, and Aleve won’t do a thing. Depression hit in seventh grade when I left my normal clique and plagued me until the beginning of last year. With the depression and the headaches together, I felt like a robot, a still-alivesoul trapped in an embarrassed, awkward body. It was so difficult to break out of my shell, especially because I had never been stuck in one before. But I managed to make it through and I stand here before you, a gleaming example of “fake it ‘til you make it.”
Freshman year, I started to lie to my mom consistently, going out, wasting time with superficial people, and spending all of my mom’s hard-earned money. I didn’t like where I was headed and how I was treating my mom, so I moved to West Virginia to live with my dad, stepmom, and two older half sisters. It was winter and I had never seen real snow, so I enjoyed my new environment and meditated on who I was as a person and who I really wanted to become. I made plans for the next years, and I promised to myself I’d limit my outings, pay out of my own pocket as much as a jobless teenager can, and to respect my mother and shower her with the love she so clearly deserves. Not only did this help me mature, but being the “new girl” helped me get rid of my deep depression. Going to school with my sister made me loosen up so much that I felt like myself again, and I was able to be the normal, outgoing, outspoken Cassey I was all my childhood. I made tons of new friends, had normal relationships with guys, and learned so much about the mid western lifestyle.
Currently, I sit at my computer screen, reminiscing about my full life, and realizing- it’s not even close to being “full”. I’ve got a long way to go.

Sticks and stones, darling...

may break my bones, but lack of words will NEVER hurt me...

p.s. you're rather unnecessary.

On the palm of my hand.

Infinite was the first to fade.
My infantry still resides. Rather distorted, but it's still standing.
Poor baby girl's taken some hits. Harsh ones, ones from family first. Then the friends she grew out of and then herself. But it's okay as long as her heart keeps beating, true and strong.
Rien n'arrete nos esprits.

Remembering why i fell for him

if i had all the money in the world / i'd burn it / all my secrets told / and the curtains unfurled/ i have earned it. / smelled the sweet sent of her body in darkness / as my touch fades blue to black / a thirst that builds so deep inside / a burning and a twisted pride / an enemy gives he the clue / the answer to the question lives / and breathes inside of you / it forms a fog inside the heart / that is only wiped away by love

It comes down to this

I;m not like them. I can't stay sad, i can't appreciate the gravity of a statement. I like to perform for those who love life and i't imperfections. But i can't perform for those who have their eyes set only on those imperfections. I'm not like them, when it comes right down to it. I guess it's for the best you all live together.











Fuck, Facebook.

That's what they all say

Once again i am called vapid and shallow.
I'd like to know when this cycle will end.
I have done nothing wrong but be selective. Not even selective in a prejudice way.
I'm just a normal human girl who wants her fairytale ending with the sparkles and flutters everytime her love walks through the door. I want my glimmer man rush when i recieve a kiss. I want it all
But i don't want you,
is that so bad?

I could accept you and take your heart and keep mine behind my ribs as you try to search for it in text messages and cute IMs, but really, we're both gonna end up losing. Don't push what isn't meant to be.

So easily said, no? when just a couple months ago... ah, forget it, it doesn't matter anymore. I'll love you. I wanna take this opportunity being given to me. I wanna see where this goes.

D.D.D.

it never ceases to amaze me the ability you have to make me shake from the inside out.

i'm scared shitless.

I'm scared shitless. I'm not gonna lie.
when my gaurd is down, and the problems creep on in, i snap my head to the other side to try to shake out the insecurities being whispered in my ear.
"you're fake. you're a bad friend. you lie. you're lazy. you're stupid. you're a selfish bitch. you make it impossible to love you." ...well there was that one time when i gossiped... those few times i took my mom for granted... that day i didn't touch my homework...

no, no, i think you've got the wrong person.
I'm awesome, i'm a great friend, i'm always myself, i'm nice, i treat others as i'd like to be treated, i follow the social rules, i'm awesome.

What the hell? There must be a change in the atmosphere to bring about your weird mood swing. How'd you go from never admitting the problem to saying it flat out and with exaggeration? where'd it come from that now you don't hate her and that you can hang out and talk all the time? where was i during this transition? I've been here a year and i thought i understood how everything works here, but now all the gears have switched places and i'm just staring up at this massive, looming, nuclear power plant holding my gardening tools. Obviously, i'm not prepared. I'm scared shitless.

i hate to admit this

but when it comes right down to it-
i've never truly loved someone. I 've only loved the version of them i picture them to be. I make them magical in the sense that whatever they do, they can do no wrong, and that every breath has a meaning. I see them doing everything just to impress me. I hope this makes sense, but i know it doesn't. This idea isn't fresh or anything, it's just very difficult for me to explain. I'll figure it out one day.
That day, i'll fall in love with a real person/

DRUG CULTure

i am going to be as open as i used to be to her.

I had always envisioned it as being soo glamourous- everyone having a beautiful breakdown:
tripping in plaform heels
their platnum blonde heads bobbing along to every movement
their couture dresses slowly rising up following the direction of the runs in their tights
wow, you're gorgeous. you're a falling angel among the mere mortals who can only dote on you from the below your candy bar clouds.

while i was busy "trying on my wings" making a fool of myself but totally not minding, i saw people sweating and smiling and walking around like porn stars, touching eachother like their lives depended on it. I myself danced all night as if i stopped, i'd spontaneously combust, but that's besides the point. these glamour angels, spewing nonsense from their pacifier occupied mouths was so hilarious. They looked ridiculous. If i myself hadn't been high out of my mind, i would have pitied these pathetic people. Making a music event into a brain frying/mood depleting event. To be perfectly honest, i, for one of the few (scary, horrible desperate) times in my life, i saw myself as one of them; trying to fix the fuck up that i had become by enhancing my outgoingness and losing my many inhibitions with a little blue pill. I saw them as my family and talked to them about our future goals. Conversations start like this:
a comment about outfits
thank you! i like your ______ too!
Hi, I'm ________. My rave name is _________.
I'm Cassey -point to myself like a drunken vegas performer, batting the eyelashes all the while-. They just named me Kitty.
Oh is this your first rave?
Yeah... -smile all innocent-
WOW! How old are you?-looking at me with huge dilated eyes-
I'm sixteen...
-HUGE EYES-
...Yeah... I knowww, right! People always think i'm older..
Yeah! I thought you were older than me! -drunk vegas look-
Ahahaha how old are you?
Oh i'm twenty. This is my birthday rave; two years.
and the conversations continued pretty much like that. but one couple(who i got a bracelet from), when i told them i was only 16 they said "wow, be careful. don't lose yourself". maybe not exactly that, obviously it's fuzzy.

I asked a girl i was with if i could have some water and she said, "yeah, but don't have too much or it'll fuck up your brain. it's bad for you..." Is that not sad? I mean, it's funny as hell and even then i had to try to keep a straight face, but damn, that;s bad.
And now i'm sitting at my dining room table trying to do the homework that was assigned to me at 12:45. I'm on number 10 and i've skipped 2, 3, 4, 7, and 8 so far. The depression and migraines that follow the usage is totally not worth it when it comes down to it. I was done with this feeling; now i have to start from the ground up, it seems. And it sucks even more so that i can't talk to any of my close friends about drug culture. They'd flip. Let's see how you guys take this. Judge me if you will, i suppose i cannot do anything to stop you from it.

I leave with this last thought. I know why i did this. I needed to experience it at least once. that's all i plan on doing. I have to see what the world has to offer. I've experienced this, let's move on.

trying to be civil

I'd like to say that was the biggest waste of time of my life, but i've done worse.

melting message

I've been trying to memorize all the songs that staple your name onto my conscious. The words sit dripping in sweet irony as they slide off my tongue trying not to become cold and bitter. Enamored am i and my performance shows it as i stand center stage all spotlights on me while I'm trying to keep from drowning in sumptuous declarations and revelations. From off stage, i see my mentors mouthing the key to success, to conquering your heart and completing the serenade correctly. It's my final but i can't understand the cheating words- i think they're saying "protect your transmission"

happy as a clam

when you feel absolutely
INVINCIBLE
and
HAPPY for people you normally wouldn't.
the cynics will say,
"she's just crazy, hormonal, or high"
but you guys!
why are you being so closed? are you a mother fucking bivalve?
NO WE ARE HUMAN! WE ARE MEANT TO LIVE AND LOVE ALL THIS NATURE WE WERE GIVEN TO DISCOVER.
we are the privaleged ones, we cannot allow ourselves to squander life's beauty-
in its most obvious forms:
sunsets, the oceans, laughing friends, and warm kisses
but also in its more defective forms:
the fact that the homeless still have a second chance,
after a breakup, the fact that they obviously weren't the ONE,
and that no matter how much you lose yourself, you can always talk to your mother who will explain everything about you the way you came out, not the way you fabricated yourself to be.

Mother Knows Best

She's right. She's totally right.
We've all felt this way.
But we just need someone to snap us out of it.
I'm here.
I've got massive brass cymbals in my hands.
I'm here.
I'm ready to wake you up.
We gotta keep performing, for the good of our show!
Just keep dancing, your love for it will eventually grow.
We gotta keep pretending, don't let the kids know
that once you hit the double digits, everything's a blackhole.
Let's fake it for them so they understand, we need to fake it so no one's ever sad.
Sadness leads to self destruction, we can't lead them astray.
Be careful Lauren, let's save them from the gray!

Bete Filles

written March 25, 2009.

I'm only human.
I am only trying to save myself pain.
Pain i inflict upon myself-
With truth. With questions. With emotions.
With looks. With answers. With contempt.
Why'd i get myself into this?
Cuz i like the fight, the chase, the fun.
But how is it fun to get your hopes up
&to dream the best dream
&to have it come true
but to have it slip through your fingers...
Because you're only human.

5.something

5.something

This is what a good day looks like

Aaron's Brothers, souplantation, and a buttload of random errands. I've missed these Sundays

It came out of my mouth so easily

"You have as many bestfriends as you do versions of yourself."
Yes, you can quote me.

EXPOSURE

Just a sidenote

I wonder if she knows
It's all for sport, darling
I'm doing it to be conceited, not to get you to fall in love with me
I think it's funny to make you feel uncomfortable
You're not special anymore
Not any more special as Rachel or Angie

i convinced someone i had a one year old son named Henry Oliver
That didn't scare this certain boy away
that suprised me so i'm gonna see how this one goes

Cruz and i are gonna be famous
We were meant to sing together

My point is:
This isn't about you baby girl
I;m too selfish for that
This is my story; my epic novel
You were just a sidenote in the adolescence chapter
And this is me, putting the last bit it in
period.

The show must go on.

All of my friends are performers
in one way or another.
i've got actors and actresses
who can convince you of anything.
I've got models
who don't know which face is really theirs.
i have artists
who can't say what they feel out loud,
and who can only say what is really in their mind
through metaphors and big showy vocabulary.
I've got trapeeze artists
always on the edge of the high wire,
looking down in wincing glances
to see if anyone is actually watching.
We're all here for the show.
We are the entertainment.
We are the stars.
Just watch the people in their cars.

You ask me why i sit.

because i don't know where i stand.

To my Lady GaGa;

I wish i hadn't rushed. That's all i did these few months. I rushed to tell you how i felt, i rushed to reveal all my secrets to you, i rushed to understand you. And most recently, i rushed to see if we actually had a shot at this stupid Love Game.
I saw that you wanted to go, and i should have let you. For once, you had let your Pokerface down and you were telling me straight up, you wanted nothing to do with me in that way. But no, i was already Starstruck by my own fantasies and i had to see if anything in reality could amount. I embarrassed myself like a Paparazzi all up in your face and in your life. I thought you'd complete me like The Fame we both know i crave so badly. Even though i spent most of my time thinking about you, I never thought about how you felt trying to figure out a way to convince a stubborn Brown Eyes that Eh Eh(There's Nothing Else I Can Say). I still think there would've been that Fever i was looking for under different circumstances. I thought it was really ironic you mentioned the stars cuz when you invited me to the observatory, i thought that's where we'd be sharing that moment. But no, i had to rush cuz I Like It Rough. So now, we'll both Just Dance and shake out those feelings like we should have long ago. But Again Again, i think we'd be Wonderful.

Forever in one way or another yours,
Beautiful Dirty Rich

I'd be great

I hate long commitments.
I like to travel.
I find it easy to perform in front of strangers.
I change my persona depending on the person I'm speaking to.
I'd be a great airplane stewardess.

I feel fulfilled but never overwhelmed if some one asks me to get them something of absolutely no intellectual or spiritual value.
Would you like more coffee, sir?
Oh, another pillow for you, madame?
I'm sorry, sweetie, we don't offer cookies on this flight.
Smiley sweetlty, fold hands together, half curtsy, and strut back to the "kitchen" without looking like a baby giraffe trying out the new legs on turbulence.
I'd be a great airplane stewardess.

I love this no consequence lifestyle.
All I'm responsible for, all I have to do is:
Pour a man his twenty-third cup of coffee,
Hand an overweight woman another pillow the size of her ear,
and convince a four year old that over-salted peanuts are just as good, if not better, than Oreos.

"Excuse me! Do you think i can get another one of those, uh... eye cover... sleepy things? Oh, better yet, a cup of tea and another pillow?"
I was made to be an airline stewardess.