Maybe A 100 Things…Thing…Maybe Not

Posted in 100 Things Thing on August 8, 2014 by Cass

I’ve written a slew of posts on here that I kicked into the Draft Bucket because I have this terrible, nasty, no good habit of ignorantly ending them with non sequitors and that’s apparently frowned upon. So I decided to do a 100 Things Thing because I literally have no other ideas and have yet to come up with non-non-sequitor endings to those drafts. So here we go.

  1. My coffee addiction is raging out of control.
  2. I’m obsessed with anything lemon, except lemons. Can’t eat them. But lemon candy, lemonade, lemon-scented trash bags, candles, air fresheners, lotions, body washes, shampoos, LOAD ME UP.
  3. I finally joined the iPhone world last month. After having a Nokia, two LG flip phones, a Razr, three Blackberrys (which I adored), and two Android-powered phones (which I was less than thrilled with), my iPhone is phenomenal by comparison. But I miss having an insertable memory card that I could load up with 1,000 songs and photos. This limited memory shit is for the birds, and I’m too poor to afford paying an extra hundred bucks for 2 more MBs.
  4. After four years, I think I’m finally in need of a new laptop. The keys on this one are beginning to not work, it overheats within an hour and a half if I don’t have it plugged into the fan deck, the battery literally fall outs if I pick it up, and only one USB port works. I think it might be time.
  5. While shopping for a new laptop, I’ve hit the first snag: apparently none of the new ones come with Microsoft Word installed in them. This is a problem for me. Word is my go-to document software. And I’m not paying $140 for a year’s subscription; to me, that is ludicrous. Plus, I’m incredibly particular when it comes to what I want in a laptop. I like the big ones–big screen, big keyboard. I need at least three USB ports at any given time. I need to be able to burn DVDs and CDs. I NEED WORD.
  6. I am willfully ignorant of global and local political happenings. It is my choice. I do not care what you have to say about it. You will not change my mind.
  7. Today I am going to attempt to change the belt in my brand new vacuum that I broke the second time I used it.
  8. I’m thinking about painting my front door.
  9. I consider myself somewhat of a grammar freak. Typos bother me. Lack of punctuation is the worst. But I think I’ve discovered something worse than lack of punctuation: over-punctuation. I have a friend who’s going to be a junior in college. She’s majoring in English lit and journalism I believe. She is so freaking liberal with commas that it’s unreal. It drives me crazy. Reading her status updates makes me cringe. She literally adds a comma in every single description regardless of whether or not it’s needed or supposed to be there. For example, where you and I would write, “She’s actually a very good public speaker despite her stutter,” this friend would write, “She’s, actually, a very good public speaker, despite, her stutter.” And this gem that I just saw today, “…what, truly, matters, is the sentiment behind…” instead of, “…what truly matters is the sentiment…” Yes, she’s one of those who inserts a comma to indicate a pause in writing. And she’s an English major. Get out.
  10. Sam Smith is directly from Heaven.
  11. My father is getting married this weekend and I’m so not a fan. He’s marrying the woman he cheated on my mother with, and she is one of the most annoying people on the planet. She’s loud, obnoxious, rude, crass, and ew. She’s just an ugly, unattractive person. And her face is not pretty, either.
  12. I’m drinking coffee right now.
  13. I own no fewer than four tiaras.
  14. I’m going to the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire for my birthday because I’m in love with that place and I like dressing up like nobility and they have the best pretzels ever and pirates and King Henry and Queen Catherine and knights and jousting and yes you are invited.
  15. Still totally in love with Benedict Cumberbatch. I’ll let you know when the wedding is.
  16. Still don’t know what we’re going to name our children. Nothing goes with Cumberbatch. Except Benedict.
  17. I love the name Phillippa.
  18. I also love the name Phillip. So there.
  19. I promised my best friend that I would name my son Beau Regard. Not Beauregard. First name Beau, middle name Regard. Beau Regard Cumberbatch. Hey. That actually fits pretty well. BOOM.
  20. I will be the last person to die in my lifetime.
  21. As of last count, I have 32 freckles on my face.
  22. I have one tattoo, and I’d like to get more. Problem is, I can’t decide what I want, or where to put it.
  23. I don’t like tattoos on faces, or on the fronts of necks. I think they’re tacky and don’t look right. It’s painful for me to look at Travis Barker.
  24. I would never, ever get tattooed all over my body. 
  25. I like dainty things. And miniature things. CUTE.
  26. I think we’re planning on going to at least three RenFaires this year. And I’m excited.
  27. I think my niece has finally broken my anti-baby mentality. She’s a peach.livi
  28. I generally refer to any of my man crushes as “My Husband.”
  29. I love amusement parks.
  30. I also enjoy the county fair. Everyone in this community bitches endlessly about it, yet they’re always there. They say it’s a waste of time, it’s too expensive, it’s nothing but a hick-fest, the only people that go are white trash, trailer park dwelling, back road hicks, rednecks, and basically the scum of the earth, but an hour after they’re done complaining about it, they pay the $8 admission fee and walk around for three hours. That annoys me. I enjoy going to the fair. True, it’s not a high-quality, large-scale event, but it’s the biggest thing that happens in this town all year. I enjoy walking around and looking at the displays in the Expo buildings and seeing the farm animals presented by local farmers and 4H members and seeing the art displays, and there’s always good food, and I always end up running into people I haven’t seen in a long time. I’ve never had a bad time at the fair.
  31. I want Robbie Williams to come to my hometown and give a private concert for my friends, family, and me. We love Robbie.
  32. I’m on QuizUp if anyone cares and wants to friend me.Just search for Cass. I’ll be there.
  33. I love cleaning products. Cleaning products and office supplies are the two things I’m guaranteed to come home with from any shopping excursion. If I need milk, I get milk and Mr. Clean and pens.
  34. I have no desire to travel anywhere tropical because HOT AND MUGGY AND NO.
  35. I think next year I’m going to enter a piece of art into the competition at the fair.
  36. I am terrible at body proportions when I’m drawing. Faces I’m good with. But when it comes to anything below the head, forget it. My torsos usually turn out okay, but then the legs always end up way too short and it’s just a mess. Ugh.
  37. I love pearls.
  38. I will not be wearing pearls at my wedding. Pearls are bad luck. They represent tears. NO TEARS.
  39. I just found out a few days ago that my great-grandmother and her sister were born exactly 12 years apart. To the day. I think it’s neat.
  40. My grandmother and I were born 49 years apart, to the day. NEAT.
  41. I recently discovered, too, that I am still the only Cassandra in my family. A gentlemen found me online and corrected a mistake I had made while researching my ancestry and said that the Cassandra Greer I had found was actually not related to me at all. So there goes that branch.
  42. The ceiling in my living room is falling down. Literally. And it’s terrifying. I live in constant fear that I’ll come downstairs in the morning and my whole ceiling will be on the floor.
  43. I own four guitars.
  44. I had planned on being productive today. And I was for about an hour this morning. I ran to Family Dollar for a few things, grabbed some coffee and Dunkin, then went to the Dollar Tree for a few more things, and I came home and cleaned the kitchen because I bought a new foaming bleach cleaner and it’s exciting.
  45. One big downside of my job is that I’m only home every other weekend, so I’m not able to take the trash out every week. But since it’s only me, I don’t have a lot of trash. But I hate not being able to take the trash out, because I’m afraid of bugs.
  46. I have a huge dry erase board sitting on my dining room floor because I don’t have anywhere to put it. It’s been here since June. It was a Christmas gift. I had used it for my writing class, but when the gallery was sold, I brought it home and haven’t used it since.
  47. You know how when you walk into someone else’s home, it has a distinctive smell? And when you leave there and go back to your home, you realize that yours has a smell, too, but you just don’t notice it often because you’re used to it? And now there’s that commercial talking about the cat lady who has gone “nose-blind” to the smell of her home? Yeah. I worry that my house smells like Cat Lady’s and I just can’t smell it. This is why I love air fresheners.
  48. I like to clean when I’m pissed.
  49. I’ve always kind of wanted to spend a night with no electricity, and only use candles for light, just to see how well it works. You know how in movies, one single candle gives off that bright light and people can read and write by it. I know that’s not going to happen with one candle, but I’d like to just have a few lit around the house and see if I can still see and navigate safely.
  50. I used to be very staunchly Pro-Life and Anti-Abortion. I’m still very much Pro-Life, but not so much anti-abortion. I don’t condone it, and I will never encourage someone to get an abortion, and I don’t consider it an option for myself or anyone else, but I’m more educated about it all now, and I understand and empathize with the women who have chosen it. I also understand that there are literal medical emergencies that necessitate abortion. I know a woman who had to terminate to save her life. She was pregnant with twins. One of the twins had died, and the other was in danger as well. Problem was, if they had delivered the remaining twin, he would have died. And if they let her try and carry to term, both she and the baby would have died before her due date. So she and her husband made the heavy decision to terminate the pregnancy before things got worse. She lives with that pain every day, and will continue to for the rest of her life. But I understand her decision, and I wouldn’t ever criticize her for it. 16-year-old me would have. I viewed abortion as a selfish, monstrous, willful act of murder. My thinking at the time was that the only reason women were getting abortions is because they didn’t want to pay the consequences of their actions. If you’re responsible enough to be having unprotected sex, you’re responsible enough to get pregnant and take care of that baby. Abortion was just a way to avoid responsibility. I saw it as selfish, lazy, and unjustified murder. I didn’t even make exceptions for medically necessary abortions. But then I realized that not every woman is in the same situation when she chooses abortion. A bevy of circumstances were brought to my attention, and, while they did not justify the abortion itself, they helped to justify the women’s decisions. Still, I will never encourage abortion. But I will be understanding with the women who have chosen it. I will never be able to go through what they went through, to hear their thoughts or feel their emotions as they made that decision, and so I cannot righteously condemn them for any of it. But I can be a shoulder to lean on when they need it.
  51. i find it a little funny that the Catholic Church is the biggest, most powerful church in the free world, and yet, if you walk up to any Catholic and ask them to name any non-family member they go to church with on Sundays, they won’t be able to give you an answer longer than maybe two names. And those names won’t necessarily be people they’re friends with, but just people that they know go to that church. In my entire career as a Catholic, I can’t remember a single friendship that was formed within the church on Sunday mornings. I knew of people who went there, and knew my classmates and their families went there, but I never went to church and found a friend. There is little fellowship in Catholic churches anymore. There is only one time in Mass that you have any interaction with your fellow attendees, and it’s very brief. You shake their hand, say, “Peace be with you,” and that’s it. No conversation, no introduction, just a brief handshake, a few muttered words, and you go back into your own bubble. Chances are you will never know the name of the person whose hand you shook. And yet we’re all supposed to be brothers and sisters and foster each other’s faith.
  52. I always hated going to Mass. Now sometimes I go on my own just because.
  53. My grandfather was in the seminary for a short time. Just imagine, had he stayed there, you would not be reading this right now.
  54. I love stories that involve a person being taken back in time. Like Outlander. I find it fascinating, and it’s always kind of been one of my dreams to suddenly wake up in another time and see if it’s really like how we imagine or are told. I know it’s not possible, but it’d be the coolest thing ever. But I’d be terrified of not being able to come back to the present time.
  55. When I’m in need of inspiration for writing, I like to walk through cemeteries and look at the really old headstones. Family plots are my favorite. There’s a cemetery where my mother lives that is full of family plots from the seventeen- and eighteen hundreds. There’s one I came across a few years ago with Mother and Father at the top, then all their children below. They lost three of their eight children in infancy. One died the day it was born, another died a few weeks after it was born, and the last one was just shy of a year. Then another died when it was a toddler. I think only one survived to adulthood. I like to imagine what they were like, what sort of lives they lived and so on. Sometimes just a name can spur a whole plot line.
  56. I believe in ghosts. I have two in my home. One is Hank and the other is Lucinda. I’ve seen them both.
  57. My best friend won’t go to cemeteries with me anymore. We went a few years ago, and I found a really, really old family plot that had a wrought-iron fence around it. The names were worn down, so I leaned over the fence to try and see them better, and out of nowhere, a rock flew out of thin air and hit me on the head. I hauled ass to the car and she followed in a panic. I told her what happened when we got into the car and she said, “You’re not allowed to ever go back to any cemeteries ever again, and I sure as hell am not going with you! Didn’t I tell you not to touch anything? NO TOUCHING THINGS.” 
  58. History is my favorite. But I prefer European history to American. American history to me is boring. We don’t have a long history, so not a ton of interesting things have happened.
  59. i was very fortunate to have not experienced the loss of a grandparent until I was in my twenties. And I hope my remaining grandparents hold out until I’m like 60.
  60. I still like to sleep over at my grandparents’ houses.
  61. I imagine what it will be like to someday be a grandparent.
  62. I also sit and wonder what my own children will look like. It’ll be so weird to have a tiny human running around that looks like me.
  63. I also used to wonder, “If my sister and I had been identical twins, which one of us would we look like?”
  64. I wanted, for a short time, to be a mortician.
  65. Some might say I have a weak stomach. I can handle blood and guts. I cannot handle vomit, feces, or going upside down on an amusement park ride.
  66. I have a Know-It-All neighbor who once argued with me that when you get your tonsils removed, you no longer have a gag reflex. I had my tonsils removed when I was two. I threw up on her after gagging.
  67. I have always secretly envied my sister’s ability to cry at will. She can force sobs better than any person I have ever met. I can’t even cry when I break a bone.
  68. I can’t remember ever crying from an injury in the last fifteen years, actually.
  69. I fear Mall Santas.
  70. My birthday is in sixteen days.
  71. I think I have more ink pens than I do clothes and shoes combined.
  72. I love calligraphy.
  73. I also love graphology, otherwise known as handwriting analysis. It’s fascinating to me just how accurate it is.
  74. I find it fascinating just how accurate a lot of things are, regarding how they can determine personality traits, and think it’s pretty freaking neat that they determine traits, period. Like, who thought, “I bet Sybil’s handwriting is indicative of her mental instability,” and then decided what letter characteristics suggested different personality traits? How does one make that connection? Fascinating.
  75. I wake up with a headache at least once a week.
  76. I’m allergic to aspirin and penicillin.
  77. I hate coconut. Hate it. The texture is awful, the taste is not that great. But I love things that smell like coconut.
  78. I love anything having to do with trivia. Quizzes, games, books. Gimme.
  79. Even though I know Munchos are the most artificial food on the planet, I. LOVE. THEM.
  80. I adore pocket watches.
  81. At the Fling this year, I bought a loaf of Irish brown bread, and ate almost the whole thing by myself within an hour.
  82. I have not had my coffee yet this morning, and I’m getting a headache because of it.
  83. At first, I didn’t believe all the posts claiming that Rapunzel and Flynn were in the beginning of Frozen. I thought someone had cleverly superimposed their image on the still frame. And then I watched it again and saw that they’re actually in there and felt kinda dumb.
  84. I’ve had difficulty remembering my age this year for some reason. I keep thinking I’m 24 going on 25. And then I remember that I’m still only 23. And then I feel kinda dumb.
  85. You know those plastic, stretchy exercise bands? I snapped myself in the face with one during gym class in high school. My face had a bright red square on it for the rest of the day.
  86. Sometimes I wonder if I’m actually as much of an introvert as I think I am, or if it’s just laziness. I’m not a last-minute, spontaneous plan-maker. I like to make plans at least a day ahead of time so that I’m up and ready. If a friend calls me at four o’clock and says, “Let’s go to dinner at five!” I usually don’t go. I don’t want to. I don’t have time to get ready, I already made plans with my sofa for the evening, I’m in my pajamas, I’m staying home. But if a friend calls me at four on Thursday and says, “Let’s go to dinner tomorrow night!” I will go.
  87. I had a friend who drove me nuts with things like that. She had two kids, and for whatever reason, she refused to leave the house during the day. So she’d call at like 10 at night and ask me to go get something to eat with her because her husband was home and the kids were in bed. At that point, I’d already be in bed because I had to get up at four for work. I’d politely decline, explain why, and tell her that I would be available on Wednesday night if she wanted to do something then. She’d pout and moan and whine about me not going with her that night, and say that she couldn’t Wednesday night because of reasons, and then act all wounded and hurt that I “didn’t want” to get something to eat with her that night. Then other times she’d call when I was doing something, ask me to go somewhere with her, and when I said I couldn’t, the same thing happened. She literally had no regard for other people’s time. Everything had to happen when she wanted it to. She didn’t allow herself to leave the house during the day if she had her children, and when she didn’t have them, she chose to stay in with her husband instead of utilizing that time to go out with her friends, which she had so desperately wanted to do a day before. Granted, she’s a young girl, and doesn’t really have her priorities straightened out entirely, but if you think you’re old enough to have children, then you’re old enough to be an adult about your social life. You made the decision to be a mother, so now you have to cope with the fact that you’re not going to be able to go out at the drop of a hat, and if you do, you won’t always be able to find someone to go with you. End of story.
  88. I’ve since stopped hanging out with that friend, as has one of our mutual friends whom I still see pretty regularly. She has found a new friend that she works with, and the two of them are inseparable. Which suits them well, considering they’re both in the same situation. They’re both young, married women with a couple of kids. Mutual friend and I are not young, married women with a couple of kids. The situation works.
  89. I’ve been taking a hard look at how other countries in the world view Americans, and I have to say, I’m a little embarrassed. They don’t see us as the most powerful, helping, generous nation in the world. They see us as bossy, interfering idiots.
  90. I don’t understand women’s obsession with large diamonds. Anything over a carat just seems excessively large. I don’t want my wedding rings to dislocate my shoulder. I can’t imagine dropping tens of thousands of dollars on a rock that’s too big to wear.
  91. I’ve heard a lot of arguments lately against engagement rings. Lots of women are rebelling against the idea of having an engagement ring because it’s symbolic of possession. Where in the hell did you get that idea? No man has given a woman an engagement ring and said, “You’re mine now! Mwahahahahaha!” It’s not a symbol of possession. It does not allude to possession. It’s symbolic of commitment and love. The history of engagement rings never even mentions possession. They were first given as a symbol of the woman now being off the market. If she had a ring on, the other men knew that she was no longer an option for them. She was promised to someone else, and they couldn’t touch her. It still has that meaning, but has morphed from just a gemstone or pearl or fancy enamel into a diamond, which is indestructible, which represents the everlasting love between the two people. It can be considered a formality, but it’s a traditional formality that a lot of women hope for. I know plenty of women who don’t have engagement rings, and it’s not because they saw it as a misogynistic symbol of possession or anything like that. It’s because they didn’t need a ring to prove their love. They didn’t need something on their finger to feel secure in their relationship. I’m not saying that women who want a ring “need it to feel secure,” but this whole thing about them being a masculine ego booster is bullshit.
  92. I like having long hair, but I hate having to do things with it. And my hair is outrageous. It’s curly and frizzy and monstrous and if I don’t do something with it, I look terrible. And I refuse to have short hair. Because it would look awful on me.
  93. I believe in the Oxford Comma.
  94. I just realized that when my dad gets married tomorrow, I’ll have gained another stepsibling.
  95. I wonder what my grandmother thinks about my dad’s marriage. I know in the past she hasn’t been fond of Dad’s girlfriend, and I don’t know if her feelings have changed.
  96. Until I was about 21, I sincerely thought Costa Rica was an island.
  97. I think knock-off perfumes smell better than the originals.
  98. I have been working on writing the same book for over four years. I haven’t made it past chapter ten.
  99. I am reading no fewer than three books at any given time.
  100. I love all things plaid.

This has been a thing.

Tricky Theology

Posted in Uncategorized on June 19, 2014 by Cass

I have a lot of what the main stream calls “Bible Thumping” friends on Facebook. In fact, I have quite a few “Bible thumping” friends period, both on Facebook and real life. I don’t mind it. Having grown up a Christian, with that sort of lifestyle and having put myself in the way of those sorts of people, naturally, it was a world that I was unquestioningly a part of through my early teens. When I was roughly 16, I veered off the straight and narrow, and stopped living my life according to that ancient set of rules. I didn’t fully stop believing in God, but I was much more lenient in my faith. I didn’t go to church as often, and I stopped attending Christian-based activities. Some say that this led to my current beliefs, which I can say without a doubt is not the case. I had these same beliefs even when I could have been considered a Bible Thumper, I just didn’t voice them because I knew my statements would be met with adversity and possible degradation, insults, impugning of my intelligence, and questioning of the validity and sincerity of my faith. Which, really, who has the time for that? It’s no one else’s business how valid or real my faith is.

I digress.

Some of these friends of mine are very, very dedicated to their faith; they live and breathe it, and, sometimes, get carried away with their preaching of their faith. What might have started out as a simple statement turns into a beating-over-the-head of a lecture. “I’m saved, this is why, you aren’t saved and therefore aren’t going to Heaven and are a stupid, lazy p.o.s. because you won’t give yourself over to the obvious truth, et cetera, et cetera.” I avoid these sort of posts, as they generally bring about long, pointless, endless, redundant arguments over who’s right and why–an argument that will never have and a problem that will never be solved. Plus, it’s nobody’s business what my, or anyone else’s, beliefs are. I don’t shove my beliefs down anyone’s throat, and I don’t think anyone else should, either. 

But these friends are constantly posting links to articles written by Christian authors dealing with rather “controversial” subjects. The subject touched upon most is homosexuality. Most Christians, as the world knows, are staunchly against the legalization of homosexual marriage, homosexual parenting, and the legal recognition of anything that permits homosexuals to do pretty much anything that would threaten their rose-colored vision of how the world should be according to the Bible. And along with the links to these articles, they, of course, add in their two cents about why everyone needs to read this article and, not only realize, but accept that they’re living in sin and repent immediately otherwise they will be thrown into the deepest, darkest pit of Hell when they die. This, also, I do not agree with.

One of these friends recently posted this:

Christians who support homosexuality, I would like your input. If there are any of you have [sic] not just blocked my feed and see this, please take a few minutes to read, reflect, and respond to the five questions the article asks in a comment. <link to article>

The article was titled, “Five Questions For Christians Who Believe The Bible Supports Gay Marriage.” And I instantly have a problem with this. The title alone suggests that us Christians who are in favor of gay marriage are arguing that the Bible does in fact support gay marriage. In reality, at least me personally, we don’t. We are fully aware that the Bible does not support gay marriage. And this is not the basis of our argument. Moving on (but we’ll come back to this, I’m sure.)

Upon reading this article, and after rolling my eyes at the title, the first sentence of this essay kind of summed it all up for me. It told me that this was only more “justified shaming” of “lesser, uneducated Christians” but the “better, God-fearing, right-hand-of-Jesus” kind of Christians. You know, the kind who think they have all the answers because they went to a college that had “Bible” or “Messiah” in the name. Or their dad was a pastor. Or they lead a youth group. Or they read Lamentations twenty-five times. The first sentence: So you become convinced that the Bible supports gay marriage. I might add that the name of this website is

As I read, it became clear that this article was aimed toward the lesser, uneducated Christians who apparently look for loopholes in Scripture in an attempt to justify their non-secular beliefs. “You’ve studied the issue, read some books, and concluded that Scripture does not prohibit same-sex intercourse so long as it takes place in the context of a loving, monogamous, lifelong covenanted relationship. You still love Jesus. You still believe the Bible. In fact, you would argue that it’s because you love Jesus and because you believe the Bible that you now embrace gay marriage as a God-sanctioned good. 

As far as you are concerned, you haven’t rejected your evangelical faith. You haven’t turned your back on Gad. You haven’t become a moral relativist. You’ve never suggested anything goes when it comes to sexual behavior. In most things, you tend to be quite conservative. You affirm the family, and you believe in the permanence of marriage. But now you’ve simply come to the conclusion that two men or two women should be able to enter into the institution of marriage-both as a legal right and as a Biblically faithful expression of one’s sexuality.”


Speaking for myself, I have never based my opinions of homosexuality or gay marriage on anything related to my faith. Perhaps the “problem” was that I was never implicitly or explicitly told that it was wrong to begin with. My religious instructors never even broached the subject. We never sat around and debated either the legal or Biblical aspects of homosexuality, if it was wrong or right and why, or if it mattered at all. Sure, in class, when speaking about a family or marriage, the pronouns were always “him, her, he, she.” It was implied that a marriage took place between a man and a woman. But even when there were obviously gay children in attendance, it was never brought up. So, I was left to form my own opinions on the subject. Homosexuality has never bothered me, made me uncomfortable, and I have never associated it with negativity. Why? Firstly because it doesn’t affect me in the slightest. Gay marriage will neither harm or benefit me in any way, be it two men or two women. It will not affect my job, my income, my grocery shopping, my gas tank, my family, my car, my habits, my routines, my faith, or my thoughts on the way to work. It will not affect my marriage (should I ever have one) or my children (should I ever have any.) It certainly will not affect my decision-making abilities, as I’ve heard the argument that, since gay marriage will obviously ruin the sanctity of marriage, then people will ultimately decide not to get married since it’s no longer a holy covenant. And that people will suddenly reject the institution of marriage since “the gays are doing it” and refuse to have any sort of association with the gay community. It has no positive or negative effect on my life, and, therefore, no effect at all.

This aside, the article then moves into the five questions. The first: “Set aside the issue of biblical interpretation for the moment, let me ask five questions. On what basis do you still insist that marriage must be monogamous?

Presumably, you do not see any normative significance in God creating the first human pair male and female. Paul’s language about each man having his own wife and each woman her own husband cannot be taken too literally without falling back into the exclusivity of heterosexual marriage. The two coming together as one so they might produce godly offspring doesn’t work with gay marriage, either. So why monogamy? Jesus never spoke explicitly against polygamy. The New Testament writers only knew of exploitative polygamy, the kind tied to conquest, greed, and subjugation. If they had known of voluntary, committed, loving polyamorous relationships, who’s to think they wouldn’t have approved?

These aren’t merely rhetorical questions. The issue is legitimate: if 3 or 13 or 30 people really love each other, why shouldn’t they have a right to be married? And for that matter, why not a brother and sister, or two sisters, or a mother and son, or a father and son, or any other combination of two or more persons who love each other. Once we’ve accepted the logic that for love to be validated it must be expressed sexually and that those engaged in consensual sexual activity cannot be denied the “right” of marriage, we have opened a Pandora’s box of marital permutations that cannot be shut.”

First of all, the tone of this article pisses me off. Impugning the intelligence and integrity of your “brothers and sisters in Christ” is definitely the way to get them to “see the light” and adhere to your close-minded way of thinking. But the question. “On what basis do you still insist that marriage must be monogamous?” Smells like a trap. This is the trick: if you challenge the Bible on one aspect, or use particular passages to prove the validity of an argument that contradicts the rest of the text, then you cannot use any part of the rest of the book to back up any other arguments you may present. If you think the Bible supports gay marriage, then it can’t possibly support monogamy. Because obviously you haven’t read it, are being selective, or are trying to have the best of both worlds. And are a shitty Christian. Or not a Christian at all. 

As I have not insisted that homosexuality is right or wrong, I don’t insist that marriage must be monogamous. Do I think it should be? I do. Will I condemn someone who has several spouses? No. Why? It’s none of my business. And it’s true, Jesus never spoke explicitly about polygamy. It was mankind who deemed it disgusting and ungodly since it was apparently implied in the Bible that it was wrong. If it didn’t come straight from the horse’s mouth in no uncertain terms, the church took it upon itself to decide for us. No explicit rules about polygamy? Then we’ll just go ahead and assume it’s wrong. Problem solved. And the negative association did come from the New Testament writers who spoke about the negativity that could be associated with polygamy. But, in all honesty, I think that polygamy kind of grossed the New Testament writers out and made them uncomfortable or jealous (since they couldn’t get any women to look their way), so they decided it had to be wrong, and so only wrote about the evilness of polygamy, therefore deeming it sinful and wrong.

And as far as the “logic that for love to be validated it must be expressed sexually and that those engaged in consensual sexual activity cannot be denied the ‘right’ of marriage” bit? We’ve got people marrying themselves, marrying trees, and people marrying one dog to another. But that’s not threatening the validity of marriage at all. Because at least they’re not marrying someone of the same sex.

Basically, the argument, from the Christian point-of-view, is: the Bible can’t present two unrelated or contradictory arguments and proclaim both are truth (see Genesis’ story of creation; one the first day, God created light, on the fourth, he created the light source.)

Question Two: “Will you maintain the same biblical sexual ethic in the church now that you think the church should solemnize say marriages?

After assailing the conservative church for ignoring the issue of divorce, will you exercise church discipline when gay marriages fall apart? Will you preach abstinence before marriage for all single persons, no matter their orientation? If nothing has really changed except you now understand the Bible to be approving of same-sex intercourse in committed lifelong relationships, we should expect loud voices in the near future denouncing the infidelity rampant in homosexual relationships. Surely, those who support gay marriage out of “evangelical” principles, will be quick to find fault with the notion that the male-male marriages most likely to survive are those with a flexible understanding that other partners may come and go. According to one study researched and written by two homosexual authors, of 156 homosexual couples studied, only seven had maintained sexual fidelity, and of the hundred that had been together for more than five years, none had remained faithful (cited by Satinover, 55). In the rush to support committed, lifelong, monogamous same-sex relationships, it’s worth asking whether those supporters-especially Christians among them-will, in fact, insist on a lifelong, monogamous commitment.”

Let’s look at this objectively, all religious aspects aside. How many people do you know, Christians and non-Christians alike, who have remained abstinent until marriage? Off the top of my head, of all the hundreds of people I know, friends and family alike, regardless of faith or lack thereof, I can name less than twenty people who I know for certain were virgins at the time of their marriage. The majority of the global population do not adhere to this way of life or thinking. This “rule” has become pretty much obsolete. Sex is not longer a sacred thing in our world. It’s lost its “holiness” if you will. Only the incredibly serious “Bible Thumpers” adhere to this anymore. The rest of the population, even though they were likely told “you can only have sex when you’re married,” just don’t give a damn. Sex is sex. That’s it. It’s not something you can only do when you’re married. You can do it whenever you want, married or not. See, people discovered that premarital sex really has zero consequences. It’s just that–inconsequential. Nobody cares. And, in fact, if you’re not a Christian, and choose to remain a virgin until marriage, that may have consequences. Men aren’t interested in women who don’t put out in today’s world. That’s just a fact of life anymore. If you’re not putting out, you’re gonna stay single unless you meet either an incredibly patient man or an incredibly persuasive one. 

Personally, I don’t condone premarital sex. But do I care if others do it? No. Because it’s none of my business. It, again, doesn’t affect me. I don’t condone it, but I don’t condemn it, or those to partake in it. People are going to have sex regardless of whether or not they’re married, and, shocker, whether they’re in a relationship at all. We live in  hook-up society. More often than not, people are going to bed with partners whose last name they don’t even know. Again, this is not something I condone or condemn. And I’m not sitting here denying anything, either. I’m accepting a fact that’s plain as day. 

I do not deny, either, than infidelity is rampant in both heterosexual and homosexual relationships. But, in reality, does it really matter who is committing the act–a gay man or woman, or a straight man or woman? Infidelity is just as rampant in heterosexual relationships as in homosexual relationships. There are as many failed gay relationships because of it as straight failed relationships. My own parents divorced because of infidelity, and they are straight. 

And the divorce thing? If homosexual marriage is legalized, homosexual divorce is part of the package. That’s a given. And the church hasn’t ignored the issue of divorce. It just hasn’t condoned it. The church still frowns on divorce, it will never suggest divorce as a solution for a soured marriage, but the church has, shockingly, recognized that some of the set-in-stone laws put forth by the Bible are no longer relevant to today’s society. The Catholic church still requires an annulment if a Catholic wants to remarry in the Catholic church, even. But, as the Bible so clearly states, one of the only reasons divorce could ever be justified is if one of the spouses commits adultery. So, the two kind of go hand-in-hand.

Question Three: “Are you prepared to say moms and dads are interchangeable?

It is a safe assumption that those in favor of gay marriage are likely to support gay and lesbian couples adopting children or giving birth to children through artificial insemination. What is sanctioned, therefore, is a family unit where children grow up de facto without one birth parent. This means not simply that some children, through unfortunate circumstances of life, may grow up with a mom and dad, but that the church will positively bless and encourage the family type that will deprive children of either a mother or a father. So are mothers indispensable? Is another dad the same as a mom? No matter how many decent, capable homosexual couples we may know, are we confident that as a general rule there is nothing significant to be gained by growing up with a mother and a father?”


I don’t know if it is a “safe assumption” that all us gay supporters also support gay parenting. But I know I do. Because does it really matter? Gay parenting will not affect my ability to parent, or my opinions on parenting, or anything related to parenting. And you know what? I’m not even worried about the children parented by homosexual couples. By the same token, would it be any different if a single, unmarried, unattached homosexual adopted a child and never had a “co-parent,” male or female? How would that be any different from a single, unmarried, unattached heterosexual adopting and raising a child without a co-parent ever being present? Why is it acceptable for two straight women to raise a child, say a woman and her sister, but not a woman and her wife? Or vice versa, two straight men versus two gay men? Why do we factor in sexual orientation anyway? How, if at all, does it affect their parenting abilities? 

No, I don’t think mothers and fathers are interchangeable. Not at all. But, many, many children are raised with a single parent or without one birth parent from birth due to any number of circumstances. If a father is killed in war, or a mother died giving birth, or a woman was raped, or chose to be artificially inseminated, or a straight single man decided that he wanted to be a father, or both parents died and the children are being raised by a single family member or friend, or mom or dad just decided suddenly they weren’t into the whole parenting thing and just took off. The church doesn’t bat an eye at those scenarios. Those circumstances are acceptable. And those kids have as much of a choice as children being raised by homosexual parents. Moms and dads are not interchangeable, however, children are adaptive. If it’s all little Billy has ever known, being raised by Mom and Aunt Janine, what, really, is missing? The experience and influence that comes with having Mom and Dad? What is the goal of raising children? Making sure that they conform to whatever gender norms are deemed acceptable by the church? If Billy is raised by both Mom and Dad, he has a 50% chance of being overtly effeminate, and a 50% chance of being overtly masculine, if we’re playing by the rules of nature versus nurture. His nature is to be masculine, theoretically. But if Dad’s absent most of the time and Billy spends his days with Mom, he’s more likely to pick up Mom’s habits and mannerisms, and vice versa. He could also be the star quarterback who happens to love Broadway musicals. And his parents’ sexual orientations or genders have nothing to do with what Billy loves. The goal of parenting is to raise responsible, compassionate, ethical, hard-working individuals. Gender and sexual orientation have nothing to do with it. And a single parent can do it just as well as a married couple.

Question Four: “What will you say about anal intercourse?

The answer is probably “nothing.” But if you feel strongly about the dangers of tobacco or fuss over the negative affects [sic] of carbs, cholesterol, gmo’s [sic], sugar, gluten, trans fats, and hydrogenated soybean oil may have on your health, how can you not speak out about the serious risks associated with male-male intercourse. How is it loving to celebrate what we know to be a singularly unhealthy lifestyle? According to the Journal of the American Medical Association, the risk of anal cancer increases 4000 percent among those who engage in anal intercourse. Anal sex increases the risk of a long list of health problems, including “rectal prolapse, perforation that can go septic, chlamydia, cyrptosporidosis, giardiasis, genital herpes, genital warts, isosporiasis, microsporidiosis, gonorrhea, viral hepatitis B and C, and syphilis,” (quoted in Reilly, 55). And this is to say nothing of the higher rates of HIV and other health concerns with disproportionate affects [sic] on the homosexual community.”

Correct. The answer is, “nothing.” But anal sex is not the only kind of sex that happens among the gay community. Lesbians rarely have anal sex (because women know that UGH.) But singling out anal sex as the only kind that carries increased risk of disease is just silly. ALL sex–anal, vaginal, or oral–carries the risk of contracting any number of infections, diseases, and complications that can harm the body. Also, straight people have anal sex, too. Having sex at all increases the risk of getting any of the above named diseases and complications. Hell, even virgins have contracted STDs and HIV/AIDS. The church and the conservative community have done an excellent job of demonizing premarital and homosexual sex by using the risk of getting a disease to scare people into abstinence, and scorn those that do contract an STD by wagging a self-righteous finger and proclaiming, “I told you so!” Sex, in general, is a risk. It does not matter if it’s “straight” or “gay” sex. You’re at risk regardless. And many in the homosexual community have chosen abstinence as their creed for the same reasons that heterosexuals do: they don’t put themselves at risk for contracting a disease, they’re not ready, faith-based reasons, et cetera. Assuming that all homosexuals are having sex is as pointless as assuming that all heterosexuals are having sex. And we seem to be ignoring the fact that HIV and AIDS were rampant among the straight communities of Africa for a number of years before it ever appeared in the gay communities of the United States. And that you can contract is just as easily by having oral sex with someone rather than unprotected vaginal or anal sex. Bottom line, it’s not the fact that they’re having anal sex that we need to be concerned with, it’s whether or not they’re having protected sex. We preach abstinence to our children, and, if not abstinence, protection. Why don’t we reinforce this with adults, regardless of sexual orientation? Either we think all adults are having protected sex, or all adults are having unprotected sex. And the fact that the church pretty much demonizes contraception doesn’t help, either. You want to eradicate STDs? Two options: no sex or safe sex. Pick one. The kind of sex is irrelevant.

And Question Five: “How have all Christians at all times and in all places interpreted the Bible so wrongly for so long?

Christians misread their Bibles all the time. The church must always be reformed according to the word of God. Sometimes biblical truth rests with a small minority. Sometimes the truth is buried in relative obscurity for generations. But when we must believe that the Bible has been misunderstood by virtually every Christian in every part of the world for the last two thousand years, it ought to give us pause. From the Jewish world in the Old and New Testaments to the early church has understood the Bible to teach that engaging in homosexuality activity [sic] was among the worst sins a person could commit. As the late Louis Crompton, a gay man and pioneer is queer studies, explained: Some interpreters, seeking to mitigate Paul’s harshness, have the passage [in Romans 1] as condeming not homosexuals generally but only heterosexual men and women who experimented with homosexuality. According to this interpretation, Paul’s words were not directed at “bona fide” homosexuals in committed relationships. But such a reading, however well-intentioned, seems strained and unhistorical. Nowhere does Paul or any other Jewish writer of this period imply the least acceptance of same-sex relations under any circumstances. The idea that homosexuals might be redeemed by mutual devotion would have wholly foreign to Paul or any Jew or early Christian.

The church has been of one mind on this issue for nearly two millennia. Are you prepared to jeopardize the catholicity of the church and convince yourself that everyone misunderstood the Bible until the 1960s? On such a critical matter, it’s important we think through the implications of our position, especially if it means consigning to the bin of bigotry almost Christian who has ever lived.”

All Christians in all times and places have not interpreted the Bible in regards to homosexuality. This guy is really hanging onto the hope that he’s found the hole in the logic: that all Christian supporters think “the Bible says so!” No, no, no. No. I doubt if any Christian supporters think that the Bible says it’s ok. Those of us that do probably are just a little more liberal in our thinking than the rest of the Christian community. But we’re also stereotyped as fakes. Fake in our faith, fake in our understanding of the Bible and our interpretations discredited, fake in our sincerity. We literally have no clue who and what God and his teachings really are. We just do the Jesus thing because of what we might get out of it. Newsflash: Christians are capable of thought. We are capable of forming our own opinions on things. We don’t need to rely on a centuries-old book to tell us what’s right and wrong, or how to live our lives. We can believe in God and good old-fashioned common sense, morality, and ethics at the same time, and not have the two influencing each other all the time. And we don’t need or want other Christians telling us that we’re idiots, that we’re stupid, that we’re not good enough or “true” Christians, that we have double standards, or are hypocrites every time we open our mouths. It’s not your job to judge us for our beliefs. It’s not your job to tell us we’re wrong. It’s not your job to do anything because it’s none of your bloody business. Only I know what’s going on in my head, how I think or feel about God or his teachings, and only I know if I’m a Christian. Just because I don’t adhere to your particular way of thinking doesn’t mean I’m wrong and not a true believer. And just because I believe in God does not mean that I can’t question his teachings or form my own opinions about them. There are plenty of contradictions and double standards in the Bible. I’ve read it cover to cover plenty of times. I’ve had your way of thinking drilled into my head for most of my life. And I chose not to buy every single word of it. Go ahead and call me selective. This is between me and God, not you, me, and God. You’re not the middleman. It’s none of your business. But since you insist on trying to make it your business, I’ll answer your petty questions. I don’t think Christians have misinterpreted the Bible for thousands of years. I do believe “conservative” Christians are just as selective as “liberal” Christians. Many chose to willfully ignore passages that conflict with their personal interpretations of what the Bible should mean or say, even “true” Christians. The church has reformed in the past because they realized they’ve made mistakes. The church has declared some “rules” obsolete because they’re no longer valid in society. They’ve also declared “rules” obsolete because they just didn’t like them; said rule prevented them from doing something or demonized something they wanted. Many Christians willfully ignore the Bible as a whole because it doesn’t fit with their lifestyle, but that doesn’t lessen their faith. The church has made mistakes in the past, so what’s to say they’re not making mistakes currently and about things other than homosexuality? We wear clothing of mixed textiles, we cut our hair and shave, we no longer stone people for committing sin, there are religious officials that are lecherous, greedy, polygamous, liars. Monarchs have bent the rules to allow for “justified” personal gain (See Henry VIII), as have religious officials. We’ve used the Bible to shape the world that we live in from the beginning of time. The Bible itself is open to interpretation, and we attack and shame those who interpret it differently from how we do. How is it that we can all have the same God, with the same book, but have such differing views on both? Why do we look to men and women (but primarily men) who have gone to universities and stared at the same book that’s in our nightstand for guidance and “correct” interpretation of its contents? What makes them right and enlightened and us wrong and stupid? Why does this require organization? Isn’t it a personal choice? Doesn’t the journey of accepting Christ begin with a personal choice to do so? So why can’t the rest of the journey be a solitary, personal one, without judgment and shame when you mess up or form your own opinions? Why does any one religion or God have to be the right one? Why can’t it be many different branches of the same tree? Why is it that Christians, who believe in God, are right, and Jews, who also believe in God, are wrong? Same God. But Jews don’t recognize Jesus the same way as Christians, so they’re obviously wrong. Right? Is that what’s going on? 

In regards to the excerpt from Louis Crompton, I feel it’s a little irrelevant. It’s just another interpretation of a biblical passage that people will never agree on. Staunch Bible Thumpers will say it’s wrong, everyone else will say it’s right.

I think it’s time we stop letting the Bible interfere with our moral compass. Seriously. We let the Bible dictate our thoughts for us. We take is as the unquestionable, infallible Word of God, but we don’t listen to every single thing it has to say. We use it to try and force people into a certain school of thought, and cry eternal damnation when they don’t. It’s a book. We literally have no proof that it is the actual word of God. And, if it is, we know that we don’t have the whole of its contents. The church went ahead and eliminated books before it was mass-produced. And, it was written in a language other than English; an ancient language which only a select group of people understood. So, we’ve basically placed our unwavering faith in the hands of men who, quite possibly, weren’t even fluent in this language, and may have just guessed at what it said at times. It’s completely possible that things got lost in translation. And even now we have different versions. King James, American Standard Version, Amplified, Contemporary English, International Standard, New Revised Standard, the list goes on and on. And whatever version you have, you swear by and recognize as the only true Word, just like everyone else in the world. We all swear by a book that we can’t prove is true. A book that is thousands of years old, written by and interpreted by men, the “dominant sex,” so obviously it must be true since women are idiots who can’t tell up from down much less wrong or right (Heaven forbid we ever do anything ambitious like raise a child), and from which select passages, texts, and “rules” have been thrown out and deemed presently irrelevant (by men). Hell, the men who wrote the Bible may have taken artistic liberty with their texts! Jesus’ words may not have been flashy enough, so they decided to embellish to make it sound more believable. Maybe, “Here are some basic guidelines on how to be a decent human being,” was too boring, so they hammed it up with extra adjectives and verbs. “Blessed are the merciful: for they will be shown mercy,” sounds a lot better than, “You get what you give, guys.” There’s an innumerable amount of possibilities that the church refuses to consider because it challenges the validity of their belief system. They are willfully ignoring things that don’t jive with their way of life.

Christians can’t misinterpret the Bible because there is no correct interpretation. 

Now, I’m not hell-bent on debunking the Bible, and I’m not saying the Bible is a collection of falsified and embellished accounts of what happened two thousand years ago, because I have literally no way of knowing one way or another. But I don’t rely on it to tell me what’s right, wrong, sinful, sacred, acceptable, or unacceptable. And I know this post will anger a great many believers, and I apologize if you’ve been offended by anything I’ve said. Here’s a reminder that you had the option to stop reading when you first got offended, so shush. I just think it’s a little ridiculous to rely on a book to tell you everything you need to know about life, and it’s silly to rely on others to tell you exactly what the things in that book mean. Interpret it as you will; the consequences will be yours to pay. But be brave enough to form your own opinions. Stop trying to scare people into “the light.” Stop trying to force your “knowledge” down their throats. Don’t believe absolutely everything you hear, read, or see. God gave you a brain; use it. And use the common sense and free will He gave you to be a good person. 

The Bible does not say homosexual marriage is right. I don’t deny that. I have never used the Bible to justify the validity of homosexual relations as a whole, and I don’t intend to, ever. But not once does it say that it’s ok to force your beliefs (of any god, religion, denomination, or anything at all) down another person’s throat, or that you are righteous in judging, repressing, or oppressing people who disagree with or differ from you, or that you are justified in using His teachings for your own benefit. This war on gay marriage seems selfish, self-righteous, and stupid. The technicalities that are thrown around are pointless. The Bible passages are pointless. The author, in the beginning of the article, said, “Setting aside the issue of biblical interpretation for the moment…” which seems a little contradictory, seeing as the whole article had to do with how the Christian faiths interpret the Bible. No one is arguing that the Bible supports homosexual marriage. I’d never even heard of that argument until I read this article. And the Bible seems to be the only thing that Christians present as their argument regarding homosexual marriage. But this literally has nothing to do with the Bible. The gay community aren’t requesting that the church recognize their right to wed. They know better. They’re asking the government to recognize their right to marry. There’s that whole separation of church and state thing, you know. And Christians are saying that, if homosexual marriage is legalized, religious officials worldwide will be forced to perform gay weddings inside their churches. I disagree. A pastor has the right to refuse to perform gay weddings, inside or outside their church building. 

“But then the pastor will be criticized for standing up for his beliefs!”

And gays will continued to be criticized for wanting equal treatment from the government while you sit in your ivory towers feeling unjustly repressed for being forced to deal with something that does not affect you at all. Gay marriage will not destroy the sanctity or validity of marriage or the family unit. Once gay marriage is legalized, it will become more and more common until it simply becomes a fact of life, just like divorce, cutting your hair, or blacks and whites sitting side-by-side on the bus. The only thing that will happen when gay marriage is legalized is: gay people will get married.

Get. Over. It.

Holy Shit

Posted in Uncategorized on April 18, 2014 by Cass

I’m obsessed with a radio show called Cabin Pressure. It’s written by John Finnemore and broadcast on BBC Radio 4 Extra. It’s hilarious and the perfect pick-me-up for anyone who’s having a bad day. The last episode of the entire series was recorded on February 24 in London, which, in itself, is pretty devastating. It’s about a small charter jet line called MJN Air run by Carolyn Knapp-Shappey (Stephanie Cole), and her son, the plane’s steward, Arthur Shappey (John Finnemore), piloted by  Captain Martin Crieff (Benedict Cumberbatch), and First Officer Douglas Richardson (Roger Allam), and it chronicles their mishaps and adventures in their plane, Gertie. If you haven’t listened to it, you definitely should.

The show, for me, has been much more than just a funny radio show I listen to to have a few laughs. It’s been huge in helping me get over (or through) my depression. I don’t have many things in my life that instantly make me feel better about everything and can lift my mood at the drop of a hat. But Cabin Pressure can. In many ways, it’s saved my life. Let me be clear, I’ve never been suicidal. But there have been far too many days that I’ve woken up and just thought, “What’s the point?” and struggled to get myself out of bed, let alone do anything productive. I tried loads of things to make myself feel better about life. I tried new hobbies, tried to form new habits, changed my diet, so on and so forth, but nothing worked. Then I started listening to Cabin Pressure, and, for whatever reason, things looked so much brighter. I wasn’t thinking things were pointless anymore, I had no problem getting out of bed in the mornings, and I was getting so much done in a day. My mood changed, my habits changed, my hobbies changed, and I once again found interest and excitement in old hobbies that had become boring and mundane once my depression escalated. Perhaps it’s Arthur’s obliviously cheery nature, Douglas’ sarcasm, or Martin’s innocent belief in his own ambitions that make every day worth it. I don’t know, but, whatever it is, it’s awesome. I haven’t felt this good in years. And because of all of this, I’ve become attached to these characters, and I can identify with each one in one way or another. I feel like I know them, that they’re real people that I’ve met and gotten to know in my life. And that’s why I’m in tears right now. Not because the show’s ending (though it does make me sad), but because of a video I was just tricked into watching. Guys, it made my stomach turn. 

I was on Pinterest looking at Cabin Pressure stuff and saw a video that said, “Not The Best Of News (Cabin Pressure) if you like Cabin Pressure do yourself a favor and press play.” I thought, “Oh, this must be something about the end of the show, maybe an interview with John Finnemore or a spoiler of some sort.” So I pressed play. What ensued was more devastating than I could have imagined.

It was a minute-long video of someone’s imagined ending to Gertie and her crew. It was not a spoiler or an interview or anything else that I would have been able to handle without exploding into hysterical sobs. It starts out with snippets from real newscasts saying, “Crews are searching off the coast of Brazil…no one’s heard from…it’s not looking too promising…” with scenes on a beach, little kids running around, an airplane flying over the water. There’s one little boy running around and we have a voice-over from Captain Crieff saying that he’d wanted to be an airline pilot since he was six, and before that, he wanted to be an airplane. Then we see Captain Crieff underwater looking panicked. We hear then the alarm beeping and Mr. Sergeant (character from another episode where they were going to an S.E.P. course) saying, “There you are in your little plane somewhere above the North Atlantic when, all the sudden, oh dearie me, beep, beep, beep, two engine failures.” Then Martin and Douglas yelling, a snippet from the episode, “St. Petersburg,” when they’d experienced a bird strike and their engine failed. This voice-over mixed with the music is particularly panicky, and it’s here that I lose my shit big time. You hear Douglas’ calm voice saying, “Martin, do you want me to land it?” and Martin replies, bravely, “No, I’ll do it.”

“Okay,” says Douglas.

AND THEN THEY CRASH INTO THE OCEAN AND FUCK WHY WOULD SOMEONE DO THAT TO ME? I can’t stop crying and things just completely suck right now and UGH. My stomach is still turning. WHY.

If you’re brave enough, here’s the link to the video. Proceed with caution. AND SEEING BENEDICT CRY IS ENOUGH TO MAKE ME WANT TO DRINK BLEACH.


Posted in Uncategorized on January 25, 2014 by Cass

All my life, my mother worked very hard to teach my sister and me to work for everything we have.  In essence, don’t expect hand-outs.  Don’t expect people to hand you everything you want.  Don’t expect to be waited on hand and foot.  If you want something, earn it, work for it, do your best to attain this thing on your own.  I suppose every parent tries to teach this to their children.  Where some are successful, others are not, but I don’t blame the parents (not all the time, anyway.)  This is a very basic value, moral, what have you.  It should be human instinct, but it’s not.  More and more often, I see kids, and some adults, expecting things to be handed to them, and putting forth no effort to work for things, and then throwing a tantrum when they don’t get it.  It’s always someone else’s fault.

It took me nearly twenty-three years to grasp this concept.  Growing up, I was a very entitled child.  I expected things to be handed to be, I hated that there were expectations placed upon me that I had to live up to, I hated that anything was expected of me, period.  I wanted to just do what I wanted to do, have what I wanted to have, all on my time and terms.  If I wanted that new Barbie Doll, I expected my parents to buy it for me immediately, without questions of cost or reason.  If I wanted to lie on the sofa all day watching movies, neglecting my chores and responsibilities, I expected everyone else to be perfectly okay with that and leave me alone.  And I always got irrationally angry when they didn’t do what I expected them to do.

As an adult, I continued to struggle with it.  I had allowed myself to be okay with doing nothing and expecting everything in return.  I allowed this to become my way, my routine.  As time progressed, and heavier expectations were placed upon me, I started doing a little work–a little cleaning, a few small chores, meeting (and sometimes exceeding) expectations every once in a while.  To put it simply, I was lazy as all get out.  Lazy and entitled.  But I overlooked this, ignored it completely, in fact, by focusing on all the “good” I was doing.  I wasn’t a “bad” kid.  I never did drugs, never got in trouble with the law, never went to parties and got drunk underage.  Never “majorly” disappointed my parents.  I tried to redirect my parents to focus on this when they were scolding me for something minor I didn’t do.  “Well, at least I’m not out partying, getting high or getting arrested!”

I feel I have since come a long way from that kid I once was.  Am I still lazy?  Yes, it’s a daily battle.  I constantly have to push myself into taking care of my responsibilities and living up to expectations.  It’s so much easier just to sit on the sofa for sixteen hours, watching movies, than it is to get up and clean the house or run errands.  And, there are days when I do just that, and am perfectly content.  But, I can honestly (and gladly) say that those days are few and far between.  I clean for at least a half hour every day, and make sure the day’s responsibilities are taken care of before I glue myself to the sofa or my bed.  I’ve gotten myself into a routine of sorts that I do my damndest to stick to.  It’s partly because I finally recognize that I can’t just let responsibilities and priorities fall to the wayside in favor of what I want to do, and partly because I got so sick of being reprimanded for not taking care of things.  I weighed the consequences against the benefits and, shockingly, the benefits won.  Finally.

But, now, I find myself having a difficult time in another related area.  I am absolutely loathe to accept even the smallest bit of offered help, and I often have trouble asking for help in any regard.  When my sister still lived with me, the house would be in a constant state of disaster.  Anytime I’d clean, the house would be destroyed just hours later.  It was a never-ending cycle.  I got so tired of cleaning that I just stopped.  It was pointless.  I’d no sooner have one mess cleaned up than there were five more made.  It was frustrating and infuriating, so I stopped trying completely.  When my sister left last winter, I was determined to get the house in order, but soon realized that, on my own, it would take weeks, maybe months.  I felt so overwhelmed.  And soon, discouraged.  And soon after that, completely unmotivated.  This clashed with my desire to have a clean house, so, I had to swallow my pride and call in reinforcements.  I put a call in to my mother and asked if she would help me.  She said she’d help, and came over, and we got to work.  It took us an entire Sunday just to clean the kitchen.

I digress.

I don’t know if I’m the only one who experiences difficulty in asking for or accepting help.  I always feel so guilty about it.  My brain tells me, “No, you’re a grown-ass woman.  You should be able to do this yourself.  You should have your shit figured out enough by now that you shouldn’t need to ask for help.”  And it’s true.  I am twenty-three years old, I should be able to do it myself.  I should have my shit figured out enough by now.  And, I suppose, in a lot of areas, I do.  Granted, I’m still learning, still adjusting, but I’m doing okay.  I get so damned uncomfortable when I need help.  I want to die a little anytime anyone asks me to do go out to eat and I say that I can’t, and then they offer to cover me.  I appreciate their generosity and kindness, but, ugh, I feel so awful when people spend money on me like that.  Even the offer is enough to make me want to disappear.  

A few years ago, I was kind of dating a guy who lived in another state.  We were planning for him to come up to visit for a weekend.  At the time, I still lived with my mother, and him staying at the house was not an option, and he didn’t have the money to stay in a hotel.  So, my mother suggested I ask some friends if he could stay with them.  I immediately wanted to throw up.  I didn’t have anything to offer them in return, as any kind of payment for their possibly helping us out, for one thing, and I didn’t want them to think I was taking advantage of them or being ungrateful.  I got in touch with a good friend of mine and asked him if there was any way the almost-boyfriend could stay at his house during the weekend.  I was overly apologetic for my audacity to even ask, and fell over myself trying to explain that if he didn’t want to let him stay, he by no means had to.  After ten minutes of my rambling on about it, I think he picked up on the fact that asking for help made me feel awful, and he said, “There’s nothing wrong with asking for help, Cass.”  I’ve tried to make that statement stick with me, and remember it when I have to ask for help, but it does little to calm me down.  I just hate the thought of asking another person to put aside their responsibilities, lives, whatever, in order to help me out.  And what’s worse is when they agree to help.  That puts me in a tizzy.  I immediately think, “What can I do/give/say to express my thanks or reward them or repay them?”  And then I panic when I realize that I have little to offer other than a sincere “Thank you,” and that it might not be satisfactory for them, and then they might hate me and think I’m using them or taking advantage of them or their kindness.  Gah.  It’s so nerve-wracking.

And I will admit, there are some people’s help that I do take for granted.  For example, I know, without a doubt, that my mother, stepfather, grandmother, best friends and their families will always be there to help me when I need it.  And they know that I’m not taking advantage of them or using them.  And I tend to take that for granted.  I hate that I do, though.  I hate that I take them all for granted.  I think it’s the fact of knowing that they will help me if I ask them to.  I know that Andrea would bend over backwards to help me in any way, be it financially, emotionally, or physically, and I can take advantage of that.  I know that if I ask her to help me clean, she will.  She will stop whatever she’s doing and come over to help.  And I appreciate it, but it still makes me feel like shit, because she had to consciously drop whatever she was doing, no matter how important or minute, and come to my aid, and she didn’t have to.  She chose to, because of me.  I don’t want people to feel like they have to, or are indebted to me, or are expected to help me.  Especially when I’m not able to help them as much as they help me.  Andrea has by far done more for me than I have done for her.  Not because I don’t want to help her, but because, a lot of the time, I’m unable to help, and for various reasons.  I’m working, I’m broke, I’m not home, the list goes on and on.  But any time I can help, I jump at the chance to.  The same goes for my mother.  She’s done absolutely everything in her power to help me any and every time I’ve needed it.  But I feel like I can’t do much to help her back.  

I enjoy helping people, and I hate it when I’m not able to.  So why is it so difficult for me to accept help?  Thursday night, after our writing class, a group of people decided to go to the truckstop for dinner, and they invited me.  I declined because I didn’t have the money for it.  Immediately, two people offered to cover me.  While I appreciated the offer, I felt like shit that they would offer.  Tyler said, “It’s what Jesus would do,” but that didn’t make me feel any better.  I struggled with whether or not to accept, because then I would have felt like a jerk for refusing their generosity because I know how I feel when people refuse my help, no matter how graciously.  It hurts.  It’s uncomfortable.  Instinctively, I wanted to politely refuse and thank them for the offer.  But I felt pressured to accept, so I gave in, and Tyler generously bought me dinner.  I thanked him afterwards, and expressed my gratitude not only for dinner, but for also being such a good friend to me.  I told him his kindness, generosity, and friendship did not go unnoticed or unappreciated, and I meant it.  And I got hardly any sleep Thursday night thinking about it.  I felt like shit for allowing him to spend his hard-earned money on me like that.  Sometimes I wonder if I would feel any better about it if I were to put up a huge fight about it.  If I were to insist that they not spend their money on me.   I suppose it might in some circumstances.  But in most, it would probably just aggravate whoever was offering and make them upset with me, which, I think, would be worse.

So, I’m working on allowing myself to ask for and accept help when I need it.  I always strive to show thanks in any way, but I always feel that I fall short there, as well.  How much thanks is enough?  What is considered thanks?  I can’t compute!

Anyone have any good tips for this sort of thing?  Help!

We’re Well Over Due Here

Posted in 100 Things Thing on January 19, 2014 by Cass

For what?  Well, a 100 Things…Thing, of course!  It’s been, like, over a year.  Yeesh.

  1. After high school, I found it near impossible to “follow” TV shows.  I didn’t have a show I would regularly watch for a few years.  And then:
    Goodbye, Free Time.

    Goodbye, Free Time.


  2. Benedict Cumberbatch is my Number One.  Has been since I first saw him in Amazing Grace.  If you haven’t seen it, do so.
  3. Adulthood has recently slapped me in the face.  It’s a bitch.
  5. I can’t go on Tumblr right now because Sherlock Spoilers abound.
  6. My background on my phone is, you guessed it, Benedict Cumberbatch.
  7. I listen to BBC Radio 1 constantly.
  8. I watch BBC America constantly.
  9. My three other favorite shows are Downton Abbey, Dr. Who, and Duck Dynasty.
  10. A friend recently threatened to hold an intervention for me due to my addiction to anything Benedict Cumberbatch.  It’s not going to happen, I won’t let it.
  11. I also love Top Gear.  Yes, a woman who likes a show about cars.  What.
  12. My best friend recently told me that I would make a good mother.  I laughed, and laughed.  And then she gave her reasoning: “Your children would learn very quickly that you’re not gonna put up with their shit and that’d be that.”  The woman has a point.  I wouldn’t put up with their shit.  That’d be that.
  13. I used to want a bunch of kids.  Currently, I’m sitting on the “One or Less” side of the court.  And I’m trying to figure out what landed me there.  I’ve always been good with children, and I’ve always enjoyed children, and always wanted a lot of children.  So what happened that made me suddenly think, “Oh, hell no!” when it comes to my actually having children?  Perhaps it’s because, in my old age, I’ve become less tolerable?  Or more realistic?  I know now that I barely have the patience to handle a guinea pig, let alone numerous tiny humans.  Perhaps I’m at “that stage” in my life that other “adults” speak of, where I’m happy in my “freedom” and “independence.”  Who the hell knows?  As soon as Benedict and I get married, I’m sure I’ll change my mind.  I’d be more than happy to have that man’s babies.
  14. One of my favorite bands is Vampire Weekend.  There.  I said it.
  15. I have no desire to attend music festivals such as Bonnaroo, SXSW, or Coachella.  Nothing about it appeals to me.  And I do not understand what the appeal is, period.  Yes, there’s music.  Yes, it’s a numerous-day concert/party thing.  But it’s expensive, it’s crowded, and UGH.  Probably a hella long line for the bathrooms, too.
  16. I got my first tattoo in May with my mom.  We got matching tattoos.  It’s our family motto.  “As much by strength as by art.”  Yes.
  17. I don’t particularly enjoy having emotions.  I mean, I enjoy being happy and excited and such.  Okay, so I basically enjoy all the “good” emotions.  But I hate crying, and being sad, and being mad, and being depressed, and all that crap.  Ew.
  18. Although I’m fiercely Scots-Irish, I’ve been an Anglophile pretty much my whole life.
  19. I want to go to Disneyland for my honeymoon.  Benedict, pack your Mouse Ears.
  20. I really don’t like poetry.  Especially the rhyming kind.  Or the “free form” or whatever the hell it’s actually called.  I’ve always attached a sort of negative stereotype on poetry.  All I imagine is a bunch of emo teenagers trying to “express their innermost angst”, sitting on a window ledge, scribbling in their black notebooks with their black fingernails and their black hair.  In our writer’s group, there are a few people who write poetry.  And I don’t mind it when they share, and I usually think the poems are very good.  But I have no desire to “try my hand” at it.  If I can get past “roses are red,” it’s not going to be pretty.  I like Shel Silverstein.  And Becket’s haikus.  But that’s pretty much it.
  21. I’m wondering why I decided to make these 100 Things things.  That’s such a long list.  Shit.
  22. I enjoy the work of Simon Cleary as well, in regards to the poetry thing.
  23. I am sometimes of the opinion that I’m too straight-laced in terms of what I like in art and writing.  I’m not abstract or “out there.”  I like simple, traditional art and writing.  Not a Picasso fan.  And sometimes it bothers me, because I wonder what it is that I’m missing that everyone seems to enjoy and appreciate so much.
  24. I want to be on Jeopardy someday.
  25. I also want to be on an episode of Dr. Who and Sherlock someday.
  26. And I want to move to London for at least a year.
  27. I’m currently taking two online courses from Duke and Georgia Tech for freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee and I’m really enjoying them.  I’m enjoying them so much, in fact, that I went a little crazy and signed up for like six more.
  28. I’m in the middle of teaching myself the Method of Loci.
  29. And I’m training myself (still) to think like Sherlock Holmes.  That whole deduction/inductive/logical reasoning thing is just so fascinating.  I’m getting pretty good, too.  I freaked one girl out at writer’s class because I was instantly able to tell that she was left handed.  Win.
  30. If you haven’t heard of or listened to Deaf Havana, you’re seriously missing out.  Thanks, BBC Radio 1.
  31. I want to learn how to speak Polish.
  32. I took a Muppet Personality Test, and I got Mahna Mahna.  And I laughed.  Because I can sing, “Mahna Mahna” word for word.
  33. One of my good friends is now my mailman, and I’m plotting a way to scare the bejaysus out of him one of these days when he delivers the mail.  I’m open to suggestions.
  34. When Benedict Cumberbatch and I get married, my Bacon Number will be 3.  (Why?  Because Benedict’s Bacon Number is two.  Yes, it is.)
  35. I love the movie The Other Sister.  It’s adorable.  And Juliette Lewis doesn’t have to do much real acting.
  36. That was mean.  I apologize, Juliette.
  37. I’m trying to be more conscious of how I come off to other people.  I’ve been told (numerous times) that I have a constant Bitch Face, and that people mistake my sarcasm for nastiness or seriousness.  And that kind of bothers me.  I’m really a nice person with bitch tendencies, not a bitch with nice tendencies.  I could be wrong.
  38. I enjoy the musical stylings of one Mr. Billy Joel, with the exception of “Piano Man.”  Gawd, I hate that song.
  39. I do not regret leaving the hotel business one bit.
  40. I know how to fold a fitted sheet, and I’m damn proud of it, and more than willing to teach.  Kids, don’t just ball them up.  It’s a lot easier to fold than you think.
  41. This past week, a Stink Bug dive-bombed me from the dining room ceiling.  I screamed like a baby.  Then I trapped him under a candle until he died.  But now I’m afraid to move the candle because I can’t guarantee that he’s dead.  But I don’t want a Stink Bug rotting on my table.  HELP.
  42. My grandmother texts me and it makes me uncomfortable.  I love my grandma, but it’s just weird.  Maybe it’s because she ends every text with, “Love you.”  For example: “Martin’s is hiring.  Love you.”  Or, “My pipes froze and your daddy’s here trying to fix them.  Love you.”  And yes, she still refers to my parents as “Mommy” and “Daddy.”
  43. I’m convinced that my sense of humor alone is what will land me in Hell when I die.
  44. I don’t feel as though I belong to one singular religious denomination.  I was raised Catholic, attended an Evangelical church in my teens, have gone to Protestant, Baptist, and Methodist services, extensively researched Buddhism, Wicca, and Judaism, and walked away with something from all of them.  I have a deep respect for any religion (as long as it’s not completely batshit crazy–lookin’ at you, KKK and Westboro), and think we can all learn something from each denomination in the world.  I love the Buddhist outlook and theology.  I think it’s fascinating.  Those monks know what’s up.
  45. I love science.
  46. I never took Chemistry, and I regret it.
  47. I bombed my freshman year of high school, and from then on taken out of the College Prep courses and was inserted into the Technical Courses, and I really regret that.  My I.Q. tested at PhD/Doctorate levels, so I could have been a brain surgeon, but didn’t care to apply myself enough to get there in high school.  I enjoyed school.  But my priorities were beyond out of whack back then, so I screwed myself over big time.  Hindsight is 20/20, after all.
  48. I know all the monarchs of England from 1066 until now, in order, and can recite them at will.
  49. I do not like arrogance one bit.
  50. I hate Tom Cruise.
  51. I don’t know what political party I actually identify with, so I always say that I don’t identify with one or the other.  I mostly don’t care.  It’s not going to make a difference one way or the other.
  52. I love sleep.  So much.
  53. I go on BuzzFeed daily, and laugh my ass off.
  54. Russia terrifies me.  I find a lot of their history interesting, but, as a whole, that country is scary.
  55. My grandmother’s neighbors are Russian.  Straight from the motherland.  Nice people.  We still call them the Axe Murderers.  The one son is a champion bodybuilder, and, once, during a horrendous snowstorm, literally PUSHED my car into the driveway by himself without me having to so much as tap the gas.
  56. I want to go to the Villisca Axe Murder House in Villisca, Iowa.  I would be scared shitless the entire time.  But I want to go.  If you’ve never heard of it, there’s a house in Villisca where a grisly, and still unsolved mass murder took place in June 1912.  Josiah Moore, his wife, Sarah, their four kids, Herman, Katherine, Boyd, and Paul, and Lena and Ina Stillinger were all found bludgeoned to death by an axe on June 10, 1912.  They had been murdered sometime between midnight and five a.m. by an unknown person.  No one recalled seeing anyone but the Moores and Stillinger girls entering or exiting the house.  The theory is that an unknown man got into the house while they were all at church, and hid in the attic until that night, then crept down when everyone was asleep and killed them all.  To this day, we don’t know who the killer was, what his motive was, or anything.  No leads, even.  The house now offers overnight stays to groups.  I kinda want to do it.  But I can’t even go into my own basement, so that’s pretty much a hard NOPE.  Hell, I can’t even sleep with the door open.
  57. The reason I can’t sleep with the bedroom door open is all thanks to a little movie called Sleepy Hollow.  The one with Johnny Depp, Christina Ricci, and Christopher Walken.  When I first saw it, it, of course, scared the everloving shit out of me.  I lied awake until about 3 a.m. the night we watched it.  Back then, I used to leave my bedroom door open.  But that night, I left the light on, and vowed to stay awake all night so the Headless Horseman couldn’t attack me.  But, I kept imagining that his head would poke around the door.  And it scared the shit out of me.  So I closed the door.
  58. The other reason is that I used to also be terrified of the Grim Reaper, and, sleeping with a night light and the door open, the night light would cast a shadow behind the door that looked like the Grim Reaper’s hooded figure.  Didn’t fly, shut the door.
  59. hate it when people say they have a new work out regime.  UGH.  No, you don’t have a work out regime, you have a work out regimen.  A regime is an authoritarian government.  A regimen is a prescribed course of medical treatment, way of life, or diet for the promotion or restoration of health.  Unless you’ve joined the ranks of the Exercise Kingdom, you have a regimen.  When you say, “work out regime,” I literally envision troops dressed in yoga pants and track suits marching around Tiananmen Square, saluting a Velour-jogging-suit-clad Chairman Mao.  STOP IT.
  60. My head hurts.
  61. I’ve been having some serious strawberry milkshake cravings lately.
  62. I’m tired.
  63. Some days I really hate my job.
  64. As much as I enjoy not working, I hate calling off.  Which is what I just did.  Stomach flu for the win today.  Bastard.
  65. I can swear in about seven different languages.
  66. It is now only 13 hours and 33 minutes until series 3 of Sherlock.
  67. I began this post last night, but then I went to bed, and now I’m finishing it while trying not to throw up for the fifth time this morning.
  68. I’m trying to learn how to take a compliment.  Yes, this is a real thing.  A lot of women will argue with the person who’s trying to offer them a compliment.  “You’re so pretty!” they say.  “No, I’m not!” she answers.  And so on and so forth.  I’ve realized that, while being on the receiving end of the compliment can be uncomfortable, it’s a lot more uncomfortable to be the one giving the compliment and then being argued with or shot down over it.  It’s like a slap in the face.  And it’s pretty infuriating.  I used to worry that if I took compliments graciously, people would think I was stuck up, or agreeing with them.  But that’s not it at all.  If I accept a compliment graciously, it means that I sincerely appreciate and thank the person for thinking well of me.  The other night, one of the girls in group said, “You look very pretty tonight!”  And, while I was stunned, I did appreciate that she took notice, and the time to say something to me.  She wasn’t doing it to be rude or call attention to either one of us, she was simply stating her opinion.  And with her opinion, came a little boost of self-confidence for  me.  So, ladies and gentlemen, when someone offers you a compliment, simply smile and say thank you.  Ignore the insecurity that pops right up, and the urge to say, “No, I’m not.”  It’s rude and won’t do a damn thing for your self-esteem.  Just say thank you.
  69. It’s almost tax time.  I did the math, and I’ll be getting the biggest return this  year that I’ve ever gotten, and I’m pretty pumped about it.  Not because I’m gonna spend it all, but because I’ll actually have money if/when I need it!
  70. My whole schedule has been off these past few days because I covered a shift on Friday instead of going to my normal house to work, and that made three straight days at one house and I am still kinda fuzzy on what day it actually is.
  71. I love iced coffee.
  72. I don’t function well without caffeine.  For real.  I never understood why adults drink so much coffee when I was little.  Now I do.  It’s not really a habit or an addiction (yes, it is) for me, it’s more “If I don’t have any coffee, my ass is not leaving this sofa.”  I get so much more done with a pot of coffee than without.  Energy abounds!  Sorta.  There are still things I will put off, even with two pots of coffee in me.  The only downside: less sleep on occasion.  One cup of coffee will last me all day.  If I drink coffee any later than about one in the afternoon, I’m wired until about 2 a.m.
  73. I got a Keurig, and I love it.  It’s a hand-me-down from my uncle’s girlfriend, but it works, and it’s fabulous.  Especially since I’ve lived the last year of my life without a coffee pot and had to rely on instant coffee (vomit) or iced coffee from Dunkin Donuts, which I was not always able to buy.
  74. I still worry that people think I’m an idiot.
  75. I don’t think I’m all that smart.  A lot of the time it feels like all the information I have stored in my head is largely useless.  Who cares who the English monarchs were for the last thousand years?  How’s that going to apply in your day-to-day life?  But then I remember that, at some point, that information was useful, and then I don’t feel so stupid for knowing it.  I have this problem where I constantly compare myself with other people, and when I do it with smart people, I feel like an ignorant oaf.
  76. I really, really suck at math.  Calculators are one of the greatest inventions ever.
  77. I do not have to recite “Holla Back Girl” when I want to spell bananas.
  78. I do have to recite the alphabet if I want to find out what letter comes after another if I’m alphabetizing something.
  79. I have big dreams, matched by big fears, but little ambition.
  80. Psychology fascinates me.
  81. I should be at work by now.  Jeez, I hate calling off.  A whole day’s pay, gone.  Not to mention that shame you feel when actually calling off.  Like you can feel your supervisor’s glare through the phone.  And I always worry that they’ll think I’m lying when I say that I’m sick.  I don’t call off unless it’s absolutely, 100%, completely necessary and unavoidable.  Trust me, if I could go to work and be productive and useful while puking my guts out, I would.  But I know I’d spend the majority of the day in the bathroom, being unproductive and useless.  Not to mention my consumer might get sick, as well, and then things would be a complete mess, and the supervisors would be even more upset.  Ugh.  Sometimes I wish I had an infallible immune system.
  82. Buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo is a grammatically correct sentence.  It translates to Buffalo (as in Buffalo, NY) buffalo (bison) buffalo (trick) Buffalo (NY) buffalo (bison.)  You can go up to 11 “buffalo” and still have a grammatically correct sentence.  And that is neat-o.
  83. I keep the thermostat in my home set on 59, and the temperature usually hovers right around 65, and yet, when I’m downstairs, I am absolutely freezing.  And when I go to bed, I usually don’t have to sleep with the covers on because it gets so warm up there.  (Heat rises, I know.)  I just want to know what I can handle a 65 degree day outside, but not inside.
  84. I am of the opinion that 65 degrees in warm air and 65 degrees in cold air are two completely different things.  You have a heater blowing 65 degree hot air, and an air conditioner blowing 65 degrees cold air, you can’t tell me it feels the same coming out of each unit.
  85. I wish I was fluent in more languages.
  86. I hate heights.  Hate them.  I don’t even like ferris wheels.  Or being on top of a four-foot flower bed.
  87. I’m also afraid of flying.  Makes it a little difficult to get across the pond.
  88. I went to NYC in April and had a blast.  But my legs hurt so bad at the end of the day.  We walked damn near the whole of Fifth Avenue.  We started in Battery Park, took the Subway to Time Square, and then walked from there to Central Park, took a cab to Ellen’s Stardust Diner, found out there was a 45-minute wait time, and walked from there to Emmet O’Lunney’s Irish Pub, then from O’Lunney’s to our pick-up spot on 47th and 8th.  We walked probably close to twenty miles that day, with all the sight seeing and stuff we did.  By midday, my calves started cramping up (Charlie Horse-style) and my hips and inner thighs hurt, along with my feet (which I later found out was because my foot was actually bleeding).  We could all hardly lift our legs high enough to get back onto the bus.  That was a pain unlike any I’d ever felt before.  When I got home, I had a hell of a time trying to climb the steps to go to bed, and the next morning it took me a good ten minutes to get back out of bed.  I spent the next day sitting in my chair in one position because my legs were damn near too weak to move.  But, while in NYC, I spent only $40.  Granted, that was all I took with me because I couldn’t afford to take more, but, hey, it’s an accomplishment.  Though the first time I went to NYC as a tourist, I didn’t spend any money.
  89. I’d like to go back to NYC, but only to visit.  I don’t think I’d enjoy living there.  I used to want to live there, after my first tourist experience.  I fantasized about getting married in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and then taking a carriage ride through Central Park with my new husband.  But now, the idea isn’t as appealing.  NYC is loud and crowded and expensive and it’s just not for me.
  90. I’ve always thought it would be fun to sleep in a jumpy castle or on a trampoline.
  91. I don’t really like camping in tents.  I enjoy the luxury of a camper or cabin.  But the thought of not being able to shower or use a real restroom is not appealing to me at all.
  92. I enjoy researching my family’s history.  This past year, my mother and I did a little digging, and we’re convinced one of our great-grandmothers, Julia Hughes, who came from Ireland, was on the run or in hiding from the mob or something.  There is absolutely no information on her whatsoever, where there’s abundant information on almost everyone else.  We have no birth records, no death records, nothing.  All we know is that she was married to Joseph, and who her kids were.  We have estimated birth and death dates (1862-1951), but no concrete information.  I think our aunt knows where she’s buried, but is not entirely certain.  We’ve received help in looking for information from one of my mother’s friends who is very invested in this kind of thing, but even she couldn’t find anything on her.  So, we’re convinced she was hiding from something or someone.  The mob, the government, an old ex-husband, something.  I’m considering using her for a book, because she has a “clean” slate, so I can make up anything about her and why she was supposedly hiding.  Who knows?
  93. Through researching my family history, I discovered that I’m also part German.  Not sure how I feel about that.
  94. We had ancestors with some funny names.  From my grandfather’s side: Limson, Margath, Turney, Philipena Wilhemina, Hester, Hedwig, Maud, Fleda, Fedel, and my grandfather’s mother, Olevia.  Oh-LEE-vee-uh.  It’s pretty.  From my grandmother’s side: Homer, Wiley, Friend (yes, FRIEND), Coleman, Elmer, Alvadore, Benjamin Franklin, George Washington (we were apparently very patriotic at this point), Audia, Lois Louise, Neyomia, Toy (as in a thing kids play with), Loal, Almeda, Tamzon, Dewie (a woman), and my grandmother’s mother, Lavada.  La-VAY-duh.  Also pretty.  I think they called her Vada.
  95. I also found out I’m not the only Cassandra in the family.  Cassandra Ellen Greer was my fifth great-grandmother.  She was married to John Lancaster, and had a son, George Washington Lancaster.  I’m not the only Cassandra!  But I can’t say I was named after an ancestor, either, ’cause Mom had no idea she existed before this year.
  96. My family traces back to Ireland, Scotland, Germany, and England.  So for, anyway.
  97. I would love to research further and find out if we’re descended from any royal line, too.  Or see how closely (or far…ly?) we’re related to the English royal family.  I think it’d be awesome to find out that, at one point, one of our ancestors was King of Scotland or some shit like that.  Yeah, that’d be cool.
  98. I did some digging on my dad’s side of the family, but didn’t find anything too interesting.  It doesn’t help that I know next to nothing about his side.  I know that my grandmother’s grandmother was a “full-blooded Native American,” according to my grandma.  I know there was a Sara Evans on that side, and her middle name was Cordelia.  I know my grandma had six siblings, and she’s the only one still living.  I don’t know anything about my grandfather’s side, because he died when my dad was two.  I didn’t get very far on that side.
  99. I still haven’t taken down my Christmas tree.  And it’s well after the Epiphany.
  100. I’ve finished this list, and now I’m bored.

My Two Cents

Posted in Community, Discussions, Opinion, Your Opinion on December 19, 2013 by Cass

The controversy of the day: Phil Robertson’s comments on his beliefs regarding homosexuality, and subsequently being placed on indefinite suspension from A&E’s hit reality show, Duck Dynasty.

What’s Up: The patriarch of the Robertson family, of Duck Dynasty fame, was interviewed by GQ magazine.  In this interview, he stated his feelings about homosexuality.  He said, “It seems like, to me, a vagina–as a man–would be more desirable than a man’s anus, that’s just me.  I’m just thinking: there’s more there!  She’s got more to offer.  I mean, come on, dudes!  You know what I’m saying?  But hey, it’s sin: it’s not logical, my man.  It’s just not logical.  Start with homosexual behavior and just morph out from there.  Bestiality, sleeping around with this woman and that woman and that woman and those men.  Don’t be deceived.  Neither the adulterers, the idolaters, the male prostitutes, the homosexual offenders, the greedy, the drunkards, the slanderers, the swindlers–they won’t inherit the kingdom of God.  Don’t deceive yourself.  It’s not right.”

This offended, insulted, and pissed off a whole lot of people.  And it’s easy to understand why.  Because of this statement, Phil has now been placed on suspension from future filming until further notice.  When that suspension is up, nobody knows.  The rest of the Robertson family are currently in negotiations with the A&E network to see what might be done about all of this.

Being a fan of Duck Dynasty, I was rather shocked when I heard of all of this.  I watched the show because it was mindless entertainment for me.  I generally don’t get into TV shows; I’m more of a movie person.  I haven’t watched a show consistently since I was in high school.  I discovered Duck Dynasty roughly a year ago, and I found the humor to be enjoyable most of all.  And I found the premise of the show to be refreshing.  This was a family who was dedicated to their work, their faith, and their family, and made no bones about it.  They weren’t immature twenty- or thirty-somethings running around getting drunk and laid every night, famous for just being famous.  These people centered their lives around something other than image and reputation–and that was something I could respect.  

I learned of Phil’s comments early this morning, and I was floored; not by what he expressed, but by how he expressed it.  His crudeness was what struck me.  He was very blatant about this.  I’m fine with people expressing their disagreement regarding homosexuality, be it faith-based or otherwise.  The fact that Phil Robertson and his family are opposed to homosexuality does not bother me so much.  While I believe opposition to homosexuality is an outdated belief, it still does not bother me that there are those who still oppose it.  What bothers me is when they degrade, insult, and dehumanize others.  But that’s not the point here.  It’s not that Phil Robertson does not agree with homosexuality, it’s the fact that he was so unrefined in his expression.  He went rather in-depth about it.  I respect the fact that he was stating his beliefs, but I think his language was a little rough.  Of course, there was no profanity used, but his choice of words did rub me the wrong way.  Had he used different vocabulary, I’m betting that he probably wouldn’t have been placed on suspension.

But the part about all of this that bothers me the most is the fact that the network made a conscious decision to essentially fire Phil for his statement.  When the A&E network signed the contract with the Robertson family, they knew that these were Godly people. living life the way they believed God would want them to live.  They had to have known that these were Christians they were entering into a partnership with, so, they had to have known that the Robertsons’ faith would be showcased during their show.  And they had to have been okay with putting a devout Christian family on the air during prime time, and they had to have been okay with letting the Robertsons express their faith at any time–hence the episodes ending with a prayer (although I did read that the network censored some of that, too–forbidding Jesus’ name to be used).  So, in knowing that the Robertsons were Christians, and being okay with showcasing the “positives” of the Christian lifestyle and beliefs, they should have been prepared for being okay with some of the more controversial aspects of showcasing the Christian lifestyle and beliefs.  And, dare I say, they should have been a mite prepared for the potential of controversy, in more professional and forgiving ways than indefinite suspension; essentially penalizing a man for speaking his mind on a completely separate platform.  Phil Robertson did not express these beliefs during an episode of Duck Dynasty.  He expressed them in an interview with a completely unrelated men’s magazine.  I was under the impression that we had a constitutional right to freedom of speech, and that no man could be punished for exercising his right, no matter how much someone else disagreed.  And I’m still rather unclear about why exactly he was suspended.  What did he do that warranted suspension?  Was it his language?  Or was it the fact that he expressed his personal beliefs, which the A&E network does not agree with?  And, I might be wrong here, but, generally, in a contract, doesn’t it say that “the views and opinions depicted in this show/movie/interview are not necessarily the views and opinions of the network”?  Isn’t that the disclaimer that accompanies any potentially controversial media?  But, even then, I don’t see how it could possibly apply to an interview with a completely different firm.  

It seems to me that the A&E network as a whole is trying to disassociate themselves with the negative reactions that will stem from Phil’s interview.  They’re afraid that his beliefs will reflect poorly on their entire network and hurt their ratings.  I don’t think A&E has openly expressed their opinion on homosexuality or anything of the like, so, obviously, they’re trying to remain neutral, and I can’t fault them for that.  But the fact that they’re penalizing someone for something that they refuse to have a stance on just doesn’t seem right.  If this is their way of trying to remain neutral, it’s not working.  This isn’t neutrality–it’s cowardice.  And Phil didn’t voice his beliefs in an attempt to hurt A&E’s reputation.  It wasn’t out of spite.  It wasn’t out of hatred.  It was a statement made from his own, personal faith, which the network has agreed to display for the world to see.  It’s unfair to accept one part of his faith that they deem acceptable and non-controversial, and reject another part that’s unacceptable and controversial.  As long as it doesn’t hurt their ratings, they don’t care.  But as soon as an “unacceptable” aspect of that faith is made public, they don’t want anything to do with it anymore.  If you’re going to be tolerant of the good, you have to be tolerant of the bad.

I do not agree with the suspension of Phil Robertson.  I do not agree with penalizing a man for exercising his rights to freedom of speech and freedom of religion.  He is putting his position to good use: he’s using his reputation and “fame” to spread the Word of God, instead of using it to further his own ambitions like so many reality stars do these days.  He’s not (generally) rude, demeaning, or abrasive when he does so.  This time, he was.  But not so much so that he has to be removed.  There have been people far richer, far more famous than him who have used far, far worse language, and they were not punished at all.  A slap on the wrist at most.  But never were they removed completely.

Personally, I do hope A&E’s ratings plummet.  I hope they feel the repercussions of this unnecessary act.  And I hope, in the future, they learn from this and realize that they can’t take another person’s life, faith, and well-being into their own hands for the sake of their own comfort.   I hope they realize the error of their ways and reinstate Phil Robertson to his rightful place.

I side with the Robertson family on this one.  Phil did nothing but express his personal beliefs, in the hopes that he might be able to lead another to the light.  He spoke from a place of faith, and spoke about something he felt strongly about and believed in.  And I find nothing wrong with that.

I’ve Gone On An Adventure!

Posted in Community, For The Writers, Relationships, Work on November 25, 2013 by Cass

Yes, dear readers, it’s true.  I’ve gone on a scary, exciting adventure.  It began in August, sort of.  I discovered that a friend of mine had a passion for writing about as deep as my own.  We had been discussing our work for the past few months, and he’d expressed a desire to begin a writer’s group–something that I’d wanted to do, as well.  Being known for planning and not executing, I, of course, never did anything other than fantasize about it.  But when my friend brought it up in conversation, we agreed to go ahead with it.  Give it a shot, see what happened.  He found a venue for us to hold our meetings (or at least the first one, if it didn’t take off) and we sent out invitations.  The night before our open house, we stayed up until 2 a.m. putting the finishing touches on our plans.  The next night, I went to our meeting early, and admittedly was not anticipating a large turn out.  I didn’t think anyone would show, at least no more than maybe five people besides Tyler and myself.  Albeit, I was shocked when we had almost twenty people our first night.  Twenty people who shared the same passion as us, twenty people who wanted nothing more than to write, and possibly make a career out of it.  Twenty people who wanted to learn from us.  The two-hour meeting was a success.  Everyone willingly participated in the discussions and exercises, and they all filled out and returned the surveys we’d given out for feedback.  And every survey was positive.  No one had anything negative to say about it, no one disliked our idea.  And since that first night, we’ve had a concrete group who’ve shown up as often as they could, almost every week.  We haven’t had the same twenty people that showed up on the first night, but life is busy and sometimes does not allow for weekly attendance.  Nonetheless, we have at least ten people attend every week.

And it’s a diverse group.  Tyler and I are two single twenty-somethings, with full-time jobs, and loads of other commitments.  Our group members range from high school aged kids (15-18) to twenty-something to age 30 and over.  And their passion is equal to ours.  And I can’t tell you how awesome that is.

I admittedly don’t hold a lot of hope for the next generation of America.  Those aged 18 and under just don’t seem like they’re interested in anything other than their social lives and how cool they seem on Facebook and Tumblr.  They’re glued to their laptops, phones, and iPads, and have a total disregard for anyone other than themselves.  But this group, with the five teenagers, have opened my eyes a little bit.  I now know that not every single “kid” is concerned with only social media and image.  These five kids are awesome.  They’re open, and passionate, and funny, and kind, and creative.  They don’t care too much about Facebook or Tumblr or Justin Beiber.  They don’t care if a passion for writing makes them “uncool.”  They do what they love, and to hell with everyone else.  They’re involved in a number of clubs at school, they’re in the band, they’re involved in extra-curriculars outside of school (one of them takes karate), one of them recently got her first job.  They’re honest, dedicated individuals, and I respect the crap out of them.  They make an effort to show up, every week, and fully participate in our little group.  They’ve shared some of their work, and it’s really, really good.  They write with a passion matched only by the greats like Hemingway, Tolkein, Lewis.  They have these elaborate worlds inside of their heads and want so badly to translate them on paper, but need a little help and a whole lot of encouragement to do so.

I’ve taken a serious shining to one of the girls, Althea.  She came to the first meeting at the request of her friends.  She was incredibly hesitant to come.  She was nervous, like, on the brink of an anxiety attack, because she had no idea what to expect.  I know because that was the first thing she wrote about and shared with us at the first meeting.  She’s this tiny little thing with jet-black hair cut short, eyelashes for miles, and the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen.  She’s so quiet and timid.  It took her almost a month before she could look any of us in the eye while speaking to us.  During the first or second meeting, she told us of this idea she had for a story.  She had created this incredibly complex world in her head of this fantastic story, but didn’t know the story that should go along with this universe.  And after she spoke, she stared at the floor, embarrassed.  A few weeks later, she sat by me during the meeting, and I struck up a conversation with her.  She spoke softly, didn’t make much eye contact, and didn’t speak unless spoken to.  Toward the end of the meeting, I asked her if she’d be able to stay a few minutes late.  When the meeting was over, I told her that I was interested in working with her on her story, on the universe she’d created, and I was very interested to hear what she had to say.  She has such a unique voice and perspective on the world, I was dying to know more.  I told her that, if she was comfortable with it, I’d like to meet up with her sometime during the week and work on her idea.  She seemed very apprehensive.  I made it clear that I didn’t want her to feel pressured by me, and if she said no, that was more than okay.  It was her idea, it was up to her what to do with it, and if she didn’t want my help, that was perfectly understandable and acceptable.  She kept mumbling her answers, which were clouded with insecurity.  I said, “If you’re not comfortable with it, that’s all right.  I’m just very interested in what you’ve got to say.”

She said, “Sorry, I just get nervous when I talk to people,” with her eyes downcast.

She accepted my offer a few minutes later.

The next week at our meeting, I was floored by her.  The quiet, timid little girl was replaced by an enthusiastic, boisterous young woman, talking animatedly about her favorite book and joining in the discussions with more than just one-word interjections.  She took off like a shot.  A completely different person was at that meeting than the ones before.  And I felt a swell of pride as she gushed about her favorite story.

We had four new people show up to our last meeting, which was a very nice surprise, as we had accepted that the group we had was the group we were going to get.  But one of our members brought her fiance and his best man along, and then we had two new high school girls show up because they had been told about it by their English teacher.  I’m perpetually surprised by the fact that news of our little group has spread almost half an hour out of town.  People are really enjoying our group, and recommending us to their friends.  We are gaining notoriety.  And that’s pretty awesome.

My main role in all of this is to be the “Grammar Nazi,” as Tyler so lovingly put it.  I do lessons about grammar and vocabulary and cultivating style.  I’m more of the strict teacher.  Tyler does more fun exercises and activities.  I’m more structured, while he’s more fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants.  I’ve got every lesson planned out for the next six months.  He comes up with his lessons the night before.  

I took the time to ask our members what they were interested in learning from me at our last meeting.  The responses were varied, and kind of vague.  But I’m interested in teaching them what they want to know.  A few of our members have college degrees.  One of them has a master’s degree in comparative literature.  Another has a degree in history.  Sometimes I feel like I have nothing to teach them, because they surely know more than I do.  But then I remember that I’m not just teaching them, they’re teaching me as well.  I don’t, by any means, consider myself an expert on writing.  Not by any stretch of the imagination do I think that my knowledge is superior to theirs.  And it’s very humbling to know that these educated people are willing to attend these meetings to learn something from little old me.  They’re interested in hearing what I have to say, to take what I have to offer.  They trust me and my knowledge enough to pay attention when I speak, and take something away from each lesson I teach.  It’s a little mind-boggling.  But still very humbling.  Our one member, a forty- or fifty-something-year-old man asked me at our last meeting, “You got any more words for us?  I really liked that.”  At our second meeting, I assembled a four-page vocabulary list for them.  We went over the list, pronunciations, meanings, uses, for all the words.  I jokingly told them I wanted them to memorize it by our next meeting and recite it all back to me.  This gentlemen was so involved in this list.  Every few minutes he’d ask a question about one of the words.  And apparently he really enjoyed it, because he wanted more lessons on vocab.  “I want another list!  I like using those big words on people that don’t know them!”

I’m very humbled and grateful.  This group is a definite blessing.  Without it, I’d still be sitting at home, staring at my laptop, wondering what exactly to do with myself, my writing, and my time, and wishing I was doing more.  It’s a very liberating, satisfying feeling, imparting your knowledge to willing students.  And it’s awesome to learn from them, as well.  They’re a diverse group of people, and their ideas are as unique as their personalities.  I’ve already begun to consider them as another family that I’m a part of, and that’s a pretty good feeling.

It was a scary start, but it has blossomed into a rewarding journey.  And I’m so very thankful for it all.