Archive for the 'Meloncholy' Category


Mini Pimp and Musical Memories!

This blog was originally posted on MySpace.

I just read an amazing blog by Erika called Musical moments and memories. Please check it out and then come back… no no… I will wait…..

(sheesh you read slow)

Ok, are you done?

Well, I was so moved by the blog, I had to write one of my own that is just basically stemming from my comment on her blog.

Music is such an amazing outlet for me. And like Erika I think of memories when I hear a song. They can be all sorts of memories. Good, bad, whatever. Sometimes to remember something in time, I will go and listen to a song on purpose. Whenever I am missing my step-dad, Jim, all I have to do is turn on Open Arms by Journey. We shared a mutual appreciation for music and I loved to come to him with questions of bands and songs as he could always pinpoint exactly who it was, what song and the album and year it came out. Usually there was a fun and colorful story to accompany the info, which was my favorite part.

One of the things that first drew me to my husband was his diverse love of music. I feel bad for people who ONLY listen to rap or ONLY listen to rock or ONLY listen to country. Whatever type of music it is, I love it. Music is an amazing gift to your ears. There isn’t any type that I really don’t like. I love symphony, country, rap, rock, heavy metal, hair bands, even big band and blue grass! Whatever it is, I will enjoy it. My husband is the same way. He is eager to always hear new music which I envy because I am a singer. You know the one. The one that cannot carry a note to save their life but still knows every word to the song and insists on singing at the top of their lungs RIGHT next to you. Yeah? Ok, well that is me. Only I have a fantastic voice! Ok I made that part up. I can’t sing for shit, but I love doing it. So when a new song comes on that I don’t know yet, I am really bad about giving it a chance. My husband has really forced me to listen and enjoy to that new song. I never even knew who Triumph was until we got together and I soon learned it was his favorite band. Take my Heart by Triumph was our wedding song. Now I love a lot of their stuff. (In small doses)

I can’t hear a song by Huey Lewis and not think about my Mom dancing around our living room in her Huey Lewis phase. Or George Michael, or Oleta Adams. I can’t hear a song from the Luck of the Draw album by Bonnie Raitt and not feel the pain my mother had in her life when she brought home the tape.

I smile proudly when I hear the Beatles sing When I’m 64 and think of my Dad singing it to his wife on their wedding day. I can’t help but tear up when I hear It’s a Wonderful World by Lewis Armstrong and think of my Dad singing it to me on my wedding day. I still sing it with the lyrics just slightly different the way he did to me. I am 4 years old again riding in my Dad’s brown Datsun hearing him sing Baby You Can Drive My Car by the Beatles, his head bent ever so slightly up.

I will forever remember my step daughter sitting in the back of our Yukon singing Cowboy by Kid Rock (the clean version of course) and giddy with laughter in her child seat. “Play it again, Dad!” she would say over and over again.

These memories are what make music wonderful. They are able to transport you back to a specific moment in time whenever you want to be there.

Are there any songs that you can think of that do this to you? Share!



Diary of Pittsburgh Part 5

This blog was originally posted on MySpace.


Omigod omigod omigod… today was the funeral.  So I wake up this morning refreshed (and a bit hungover) but none the less I was ready.  I worked myself up to it overnight.  I was going to be an amazing, strong wife and family member.  My husband informed me that he wanted to ride along with his brother in law, the police officer I told you about yesterday, for all of the processional stuff.  So I realized that not only was I not going to see him for most of the ceremony because he was a pallbearer but not during any of the driving bits either.  So basically, I was going to drive to the funeral home with him at 8 in the morning and then would pretty much not talk to him again until about noon at the wake.  Weird.  But ok.  So I got to the funeral home for the last showing before the funeral.  I was doing good.  Proud of myself.  Strange because I realized that I was completely numb but proud anyway because I was maintaining composure.  So we have our final viewing and the priest (I think that was what he was) makes a speech, everyone gets teary and then they take the casket out to the hearse.  I start to lose it.  Not bad at first but enough that I need to tell myself to get fricking control.  Then we drive to the church where they take the casket into the church.  Then we have the funeral.  I proceed to lose it again.  I mean I lost it.  I was heaving.  I was crying so hard that I had to stop and pretend I was in an amusement park watching children run and play and among other things, eating cotton candy.  Don’t ask, this is just what came to me.  Big fluffy pink balls of cotton candy.  I was scared that if I didn’t stop crying that I would have an asthma attack and the show would all stop to look at the moron in the pew who forgot her inhaler and was laying on the ground awaiting medical attention.  Yes, this is what was going thru my mind.  Don’t judge me, I am weird.  You already knew this.  So anyway… I finally stop crying and the funeral FINALLY ends after just shy of two hours and proceed back to our cars to drive to the cemetery.  We took a bit of a detour past Uncle George’s old house per his request and off we were to the cemetery.  Then another speech and we leave to head back to the church reception hall for lunch and the “wake”.  In all honesty, I can’t for the life of me figure out why they call it that.  Who is exactly supposed to awaken?  If you know, please let me in on this.

I realized why this is affecting me in the way it is.  Don’t get me wrong, I miss Uncle George.  I miss him a lot.  He was an amazing man.  Just ask the 3 zillion people that were there today.  All of them have a story.  A GOOD story.  Some way that Uncle George impacted their life and how they will be forever changed because of him.  He was a gift to us all.

Back to my point.  The reason I think or rather that I know I am so upset is this.  This is like losing Jim all over again.  When someone you love dies you bottle up a lot.  And it doesn’t hit you until later in life.  Unfortunately, it all hit me in the last few days.  I lost Jim all over again today.  I feel like he just left us yesterday.  I feel just as miserable today as I felt on that Wednesday that will be forever burned in my brain.  I am not trying to side step how painful it was for everyone, including myself, to lose Uncle George.  So please do not misunderstand me.  But I just feel FUCKING MISERABLE!  Why does it hurt so bad?  Any ideas on how I can make it stop?

I do have one idea.  Gin.  It worked for a few.  Not long.  But long enough for me to get past the worst of it.  Isn’t that terrible?  I had to drink myself into literally a stooper today.  I was sloshed at 3 in the afternoon.  It is almost midnight here and I am still pretty loaded, and I stopped drinking HOURS ago.  How pathetic?  Kids, don’t try this at home.

Why does alcohol work so well?  Why do we use it?  Why do I use it?  I know I don’t have a drinking problem.  I know, I know.  Those who say they don’t have a problem actually do have a problem.  But when I drink, I very rarely if ever drink to get loaded.  I actually usually just drink because I love the taste of alcohol.  But strangely enough, whenever I am in Pittsburgh with my husband’s family, that time to get smashed and make an ass out of myself usually comes due.  Sad.  But true.  I apparently am trying to make the biggest ass out of myself that I can and only in front of my husband’s family.  Maybe subconsciously I am trying to see if my husband will love me no matter what.  Dumb, but it is all I can think of.  When I say that to him, he says I just feel comfortable enough with him and his family to know I can have a good time.  He always knows what to say to make me feel better.  He is good like that.  I think I will keep him.

Anyway…. Moving on.   Actually it just dawned on me that this blog is really really long and I am sure you are getting rather bored.  So I will say goodnight.


Diary of Pittsburgh Part 4

This blog was originally posted on MySpace.


Today was day two of the “viewings”  There were a total of four of them and tomorrow is the funeral.  It is a Catholic Mass funeral.  So the whole hurrah.  I am really nervous.

I don’t know if I mentioned it, but I am not the kind of person that can cry in public.  At least I feel weak if I do.  Yesterday I had a good cry at the funeral home and of course had to run outside and hide to have it.  I felt like a moron.  Why did I?  Who knows.  Everyone cries.  It is perfectly natural.  Especially in a situation like this.  But I still felt the need to run and hide.  Do any of you do this or is it just me?

Today I did so much better though.  I think I am a little bit numb.  Today nothing seemed to phase me.  I didn’t feel.  I didn’t feel happy, sad or indifferent.  Is this my bodies way of putting up a shield?  To protect me from the sadness?

Did anyone actually read my other blogs?  I didn’t get any comments and I was sad about it today.  It shows that I had 153 views today but no one said anything?  Whats up with that?  I know I said that I didn’t care if you commented, but I lied.  Not that I want kudos or any shit like that.  I just want someone to tell me how they did it.  Opal, you were a champ and your comment touched me to the core.

To everyone else… If you have time will you read my blogs and tell me if anything I am feeling or going thru relates to your life?  Please?  I think I just need to know that I am being heard.  I can’t really talk about this with anyone here because we are all going thru this together.  I need an outside perspective.  So please, if you can comment on my other blogs and maybe open a bit of a discussion, I would be in your debt.  Truly.

I am so scared about tomorrow.  I just don’t know how I am going to deal with it.  I am the type of person that needs to be in control of a situation or I kinda freak out.  I am NOT in control of this one.  I am so scared that I will cry or break down or god forbid cry so hard I force myself into an asthma attack.  I just want to be strong and helpful to everyone involved with this right now.  And more than anything I feel like a shitty wife.  My father in law came up to me yesterday and asked me how I was doing.  When I started to reply he told me that my husband had already informed him that I was doing very poorly.  Gee thanks Hus.  Like I didn’t feel like a pussy enough, you had to tell your Dad all about it.  Ugh.  I am not mad or anything but like I said, it just makes me feel weak.  I hate to feel weak and hate even more anyone thinking that I am weak.

My brother in law is a police officer here in Pittsburgh and is going to be leading the processional in a marked police car tomorrow.  I could not be more proud of the family I married into.  This is just one of the many amazing gifts of kindness that I have seen over the last two days.  This family has amazing hearts.  I am truly blessed to be a part of it.

I have been talking to my step dad, Jim, all day to please let me make it through tomorrow and be strong for my family.  I think he is listening.  I know today would not have been so easy if he was not looking out for me.  I am so lucky to have him as my own guardian angel.

Please wish me luck and say a prayer for me tomorrow.  I need all the positive thoughts and wishes I can get.

Also another request.  Hug and kiss those that you love.  And tell them that you love them.


Diary of trip to Pittsburgh part 3

This blog was originally posted on MySpace.


Well, this has surely been an interesting trip thus far to say the least.  Today was the first two viewings.  Viewings.  Such an interesting term, don’t you think?  We have our first “viewing” of Uncle George in a casket.  What are we to view?  That his spirit has left his body?  That he is no longer with us?  Isn’t that kind of obvious?  I just really don’t understand the whole viewing thing.  I don’t understand why it’s done.  I don’t feel that saying goodbye to a body that is lifeless has meaning.  Call me cynical, call me whatever you want, but I think this whole thing is just crazy.  I feel that once your life leaves your body to move on, that your body is just a body.  It’s gone.  I have no interest in seeing, speaking too or god forbid touching that body.  I know many of you are right now turning your nose at me and that is ok.  This is just how I feel and I am not asking anyone to feel the way that I do.

So tomorrow there are two more viewings.  Two more two hour episodes of “viewing” Uncle George.  I would rather look at his picture.  I would rather look at him when he was full of life and before cancer overtook his body and forced his soul to move on to a better place.
Cancer is such a horrible thing.  It takes over the heart and mind of its hostage and makes them who they would have never been.  It can cause them to speak and act as though they have been possessed by something that we have never known them to be.  We watch it consumes their bodies and hear their words become foreign.  In a word… it sucks.  Sucks big time.

I was given a prayer card today at the funeral home of where Uncle George is spending his “viewing” time.  I read it and felt many mixed feelings.  It goes like this…

What Cancer Cannot Do

Cancer is so limited

It cannot cripple Love

It cannot shatter Hope

It cannot corrode Faith

It cannot destroy Peace

It cannot kill Friendship

It cannot suppress Memories

It cannot silence Courage

It cannot invade the Soul

It cannot steal eternal Life

It cannot conquer the Spirit

Maybe I am still so angry with Cancer and what it can do.  So maybe that is why I am having trouble seeing these things.  Maybe I still need time to heal.  Maybe I am naïve.  But then again, maybe I just see that Cancer can cripple, shatter, corrode, destroy, suppress, silence, invade, steal and finally conquer and kill.  Maybe this is why I don’t know what to make of the prayer card that I was given.


Diary of trip to Pittsburgh part 2

This blog was originally posted on MySpace.


Today we sat around the table as a family.  We discussed the events leading up to our loss of Uncle George.  Chucks mother and sisters were in the room with him when he passed as well as other family members.  His oldest sister had her hand on his chest when she felt his last breath and the last beat of his heart.  They then proceeded to discuss it at great length for some time.  I found this unbearable.  As stories began to further themselves, we began talking about other family members that have passed and how each of us dealt with each situation.  How some events were similar to someone else’s experience.

I will never, as long as I exist, forget the pain I felt at the moment my step dad, Jim, passed away.  I will never forget the way the room looked and smelled or the way this face looked or the sound that was his last breath.  I will never forget how the world crashed down around my head or the cries that flooded the room.  My crying was so fierce that at first I didn’t realize the noise filling my ears was that of my own screams as I had never heard such a thing in my life.  I remember thinking that it wasn’t really happening and that it was just a bad dream that someone would awaken me from at any moment.  That such person has yet to shake me awake.

When I left the hospice to drive home after it was all over, I couldn’t understand how it could be so complete.  I couldn’t understand why it was over.  How did it just end like that.  One last breath.  And then no more.  I had just that morning prayed and prayed with all of my might for God to please take him.  Please just put him at peace.  Please don’t let him hurt anymore.  But then when God finally complied, I was so mad.  I screamed and cursed at God for taking my Jim!  How dare he and I vowed to hate him forever for what he did to Jim and what he did to our family and the pain he’s caused us all.

Today when I began to feel tears brim to my eyes sitting at that table, I excused myself to go to the bathroom and quietly cry to myself.  I am not a good public crier.  I went to the bathroom and balled my eyes out for a good ten minutes and then I said “ok God, if you are really up there, get me thru this.  Jim?  If you are listening… I need a hand right now.  Make me strong so I can do this”  See, the thing was, I was just so upset.  I think part of it was because of how I feel about death in general.  And I am sitting around a table with a mostly Catholic group who has very different feelings on death and religion and even life.  I just wanted to scream from the top of my lungs for them to just see what I see.  But now writing this I realize that I can’t force anyone to see what I see when I don’t even know what I see for myself.  I just know one thing.  I hate death.  I hate what it does to me.  I hate to cry.  I hate to feel weak when I have to cry.  I hate to cry over death for making me so weak.


Diary of trip to Pittsburgh

This blog was originally posted on MySpace.

I am going to do something that I normally don’t do.  I am going to type a diary of sorts for my trip and hope to post them when I can.  Please don’t feel the need to comment if you don’t have the time as I am probably not going to get to the replies very often if at all.  If you do leave a comment, tho, please know that I will read them and appreciate all the comments none the less.

Let me say thank you first for all of the amazing emails and comments I have gotten thus far about my previous blog.  Your kind words and thoughts mean a lot to me.

So here begins my blog.  I am typing it in MS Word so hopefully the spelling wont be too bad, but I can’t promise the grammar will be worth anything.  Plus I am sure, without a doubt that I will babble.  I am a babbler.  Nothing I can do to change that, I just accept it and so should you.   :o)

9/29/06 2:43 pm CST

We are driving thru Chicago right now.  I HATE Chicago.  With a passion.  There are way too many people here.  In defense, I have only just ever driven through Chicago.  I haven’t ever actually stopped here.  I find the thought of stopping nauseating to say the least.  The people drive like they are all on crack and have somewhere to be and are late.  ALWAYS late.  I don’t understand how we can actually be passed by cops when the posted speed limit says 50 and we are going 75.  It baffles me.  However, I think living in a rural town for so long has just set my mind in a calm traffic setting.  See, in Merrimac, we have no traffic.  The most that ever even happens there is that you may get stuck behind a tractor.  Big whoop.

Chuck is trying to drive and work at the same time.  He keeps fielding phone calls from work and I hear constant yelling, bitching and the comment of how “someone just isn’t doing their job right”.  I think it is crazy that he still has to deal with these phone calls when not even 24 hours ago he was informed of his favorite uncles passing and we are driving there now to be with his family and attend the funeral services.

I don’t have a lot of experience with death.  What I do have is very painful and hard to even discuss.  As many of you know, my step father passed away January 21, 2004 after losing a two and a half year battle with lung, liver and brain cancer.  It was the most difficult time in my life and I hope to never have to go thru it again.  Jim was just as much a father to me as my real father is.  I love them both dearly and was given the amazing gift of having two amazing fathers.  This is how I always looked at it.  They are both wonderful in their own ways and I cannot imagine life without either of them.

See?  This is the problem.  I don’t think I even realize that Jim is gone yet.  It has been almost 3 years and I still think about times when I want to pick up the phone and call him up.  Ask him a question or two or just say hello.

I am not a religious person, so I don’t know how I really feel about God or the afterlife.  I do know that I think there is one or some place that our spirits go.  I guess I would be considered Agnostic.  I was raised loosely in a Divine Science household.  My mother is very metaphysical and has strong beliefs about her feelings of God.  My father claims to be an Atheist, although there have been many times when I think he is not really.  I guess that is a whole nother story.  Jim was raised Catholic as with a large portion of my family.  He did stop attending the Catholic church for many reasons that I wont go into now, after he and my Mom married when I was 12.

I wonder tho, is there a place that we go?  How do we get there?  Is it painful?  Is death just a way to teach the souls that love us to love us better? Or more?  It seems to me that when a loved one passes, if they do indeed go to a better place, then isn’t it selfish of us to feel the way that we do?  To be in pain so much?  If we know they just went to a better place, why are we so upset and mad?  Shouldn’t we be happy for them?  Shouldn’t we throw a party?  “Yea! George went to heaven!  WOOHOO!  Break out the champagne”  But yet, this isn’t the way it’s done.  In some cultures they mourn someone every year on the anniversary of our death.  I know if I was in the great here after looking down after my loved ones seeing them do this every year, it would surely not make me proud.  So why does this occur?  See?  I think it is a selfish thing?  You may think that I am a bitch for saying this, but it really is how I feel.

When I got the news yesterday, it broke my heart.  I think that as soon as I heard the news that Uncle George was sick, I just told myself that he would get better.  Just like I did with Jim.  I told myself that I need not worry because everything would work out.  And I avoided the pain.  Part of the reason why my heart hurt so badly yesterday was not only because I loved Uncle George and that I am sad to see that he is no longer with us but because suddenly there I was, back at Jim’s beside, seeing him take his final breath again.  My heart stopped for a moment as if to say “WTF???  NO NO NO NO NO!  Wait, just wait!  Not yet”  But yet of course we can not stop fate.

Is that what death is?  Fate?


about moi…

Hi, my name is Cass. I am married to an amazing man who loves me unconditionally. I’m a stay at home mom to a rockin’ 2 year old boy who I call Monkey. I have an 12 year old step-daughter who lives in another state. We miss her daily. We also have two fur babies, Daisy and Jazz, who keep us on our toes. They are awesome!

I am a complete goofball, a photographer and a constant out loud thinker. I am a grammar challenged, vulgar, cursing, sex obsessed Big Mama fumbling through life. Among other things, I battle PCOS causing infertility, Bi Polar, Anxiety and OCD.

Currently I am riding the fertility roller coaster in an attempt to make Monkey #2. This blog is about a little of everything. I hope you enjoy. Read at your own risk!


my photography page:



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