Of course.
I mean, really, when anyone is in competition for affection against Lindsay Redman, she's not going to get anywhere.  I had already lost before I begun.
I watched it happen, it's not like I was oblivious to the fact that I was ignored in preference of her company.
I'm not bitter about it.  They were beautiful and amazing separately, and now they can be beautiful and amazing together.

I just thought it was going to happen.
That I'd been anticipating since the last tenth of July was going to be realized in the form of a fantastic boy that I'd never met.
He was everything I had been waiting for.  He is intelligent, hilarious, a fantastic actor and has ambitions to pursue a successful career in a related field. 
We talked, we debated, we hung out.  Of course, it was all with Lindsay present, which I should have caught on to long before I actually did.
But I thought it was happening.  That God had finally smiled and said, "Him.  That one, right there.  Go get 'em."
But He did no such thing.
I'm stuck here.
In the same rut of emotions that I've been wallowing in since this time last year.
In the awkward stage of trying to find someone in the exact same group of people I've been living with for the past four years.
I sit here, quietly awaiting any sign that anyone at all finds me charming or particularly interesting.
No one.  Nothing.  Crickets.
And really, I want to state, to the emptiness that is scanning the words on this screen, that I really don't need a guy to make me happy, to complete my life.  I understand that I sound like a floppy disappointment of a woman who is so jaded that she feels entitled to some form of male companionship.
Well, I'm not.
I just hate being shoved aside, ignored, written off as someone who is not quite good enough for anything substantial.
Why can't I be anyone's anything?  Why can't someone look at me and appreciate me more than that one girl over there?
I don't understand where I fall short.  I try, I don't try.  I flirt, I don't flirt.  I care, I don't care.
It doesn't matter.  None of it does.  I fail, I fall, I cry.  No variation, no exception.
I love my friends.  I love my family.  But as of late I'm completely overwhelmed with this feeling of loneliness.
Utter, bitter loneliness.  And this rarely happens, really.  But I feel solitary and sad.  I feel like I'm without anyone whom I can completely trust.  No one cares.  No one sees.
And I know, based on all of the talks Heather and I have had about this topic, that that wonderful guy is out there.  Oh, he's there.  God has him waiting just for me, and all I have to do is hold out and keep my chin up and, of course, pray.
But I have a hard time with that.  Why can't I have someone?  Someone to hold, to see, to love and to talk to?  I just don't understand why no one sees me as anything but that girl who dresses up and can talk about the Vikings draft.  Sure, I can talk with her about how hot Scarlett Johanssen is, but a relationship?  Nah, no thanks.
But again, none of this matters. I can be emo and babble and write stupid elJay entries until I'm speaking Yiddish and my head is on backwards, but what is it going to change?  Absolutely nothing.
My mother will still be lying in a hospital an hour away, my dad will still be in denial, my sister will be looking at her own issues, and my friends will keep thinking I'm the bitter single girl.
Of course.

Uh, yeah, Failure to Launch is pretty much amazing. It will probably end up being the fourth chick-flick Paul sees with me. But, guys would love it too, I promise.

Anyway. Yesterday was a Heinsch Holiday. My favorite of the year, besides actual holidays. Why, you ask? Because it was for my birthday! (yes, for my sister, and Heather, Chad, Tim, Gail, Tim and Gail's Anniversary, and Heidi, but...mainly for me. XD)

The major thing about going to the Howards (that's Tim and Gail-Gail is my mom's older sister...see if you can follow the Heinsch Tree) is that they are pretty much the best cooks ever. And they know what to make for the Heinsch Clan. You see, people like Mindy (Glenn's wife-Glenn: Mom's little brother) want to make soup and salad, tacos, chili, and pork chops with some kind of crumbly stuff on them. Uh, no. We want pizza, burgers, Subway, and, if we're ambitious, shredded turkey sandwiches. Anyway, Gail and Tim always grill for us, and their burgers are little pieces of heaven. Seriously.

So we all ate, and drank, of course. And no one really messes with the pop selection--there were three sections of the cooler: Coke, Caffiene Free Diet Coke (which was only replacing MelloYello or Sprite because Papa can't have caffiene), and Diet Coke. There was a separate cooler for juiceboxes for the young, unafflicted ones.

Presents were fun. I got 30 bucks for Target from Grandma, along with an orgasmic orange-mango candle. Oi. And a horse encyclopedia from Tim and Gail (he used to sell books all the time, so we get them. ...and apparently no one has had the heart to tell them I am not obsessed with horses anymore--you know, since about 4 years ago.) From Heath and Chad, a Nike satchel (Be still, my heart!) with a shirt in it that said "Stuck in the Middle". Hah. Ten bucks from Glenn and Mindy, and what from my wonderful great-grandmother Nana Ellen? An eight dollar check made out to Cassie (much closer than the last one, made to Stacy). Eight dollars. I don't ask questions.

Then, the inevitable began. The discussion about my grandfather's job. He had run a red light on Friday and clipped a car's front end whose husband was in the car behind her. He has run out of fuel three times in a week. He used to run out about once every 5 years. His perception is off, he can't hear a blasted thing, and his doctor wants him home before ten. He is so stubborn you could swear he was related to a mule.

*sighs* We really didn't get anywhere in our half hour, but he's "going to talk to Kenny about a route to Des Moines" (which doesn't work because he ends up waiting for someone to switch trailers). Guh. Spare me.

Well, it's Price is Right time, everyone!!!

Tschüss!

Holy buckets, going to Florida in ... a matter of several hours, as our flight leaves at 6:15, hence dooming us to leaving this house at 4:15. Bad news. But, psssh...I'm going to FLORIDA!

Heavens yes.

At my aunt's as I ... type...and am watching the CMAs. If you don't know what I mean, you're not worth explaining it to.
Keith Urban = Wonderful wonderful beautiful man, who happened to win Male Vocalist of the Year. Go you, Keith, go you.
LeAnn Womack = Album of the year my butt.
Garth Brooks in Times Square = I love you. Buh.

I had pizza at Rose Street with The Boys before I left. That was wonderful. If I hadn't been able to see Paul, I think my head would have exploded. It snowed. It was wonderful. Everything's wonderful. *smiles*

Anyway. Moving on. I'd better be getting back to my CMA-glued state.

AEROBICS IS ROCKING MY WORLD, MAN.
Hoya.

Small group would've fun tonight. Unfortunately, as the saying goes, one sour apple ruins the whole bushel, and it happened tonight. That apple, not mentioning names, was the same apple who last week, when we talked about body image, decided to contradict everyone by saying things like: "We shouldn't care what people think about us." "I don't think we should let media affect us like that." Well, of course we shouldn't. But we do. And I tell her this, and she goes, "Oh...well...we really shouldn't. I don't, really." How nice for you. *coughs*easy for a size -2 to say*coughs* This week, said apple decided to talk about, in the midst of the rest of the group admitting their downfalls at communicating when things are wrong, how she and her friends talk about everything openly, and how it's never a problem. Now, really, that's awesome. Seriously. But, when the rest of us are choked up, talking about our problems...is that really the time to say that?

...Ashley, you probably know who I'm talking about, and I really love her dearly...it's just that sometimes her whole cynical elitist act gets on my nerves.

Hokay. Now that Casey has officially overrode her "annoyance with a person she's probably just jealous of" quota for today...

I will leave now.
Ciao.

Better Than Sex Cake lives up to its name, y0. Not ... that ... I would know. Oh, shut up, that joke was way overdone today. And I really didn't eat that much of it, because my stupid teeth decided to hurt like heck and Extra Strength Tylenol decided not to work at all. That wench.

Anyway. Allyssa is everyone's new hero for making the best BTS Cake this world's ever seen, and holy buckets, was there major "OHEMGEE THIS CAKE IS TEH BOMMB!!!1" going on at our table, man. Woo.

If you'll excuse my language, I felt like shit all day. I still feel like shit, quite honestly, and it sucks. Majorly. Tylenol Extra Strength rapid release MY ASS.

I really haven't much else to write, other than I fell asleep at lunch, much to the disbelief of the table.

Oh, I also just pulled a 90 point English assignment out of my ass, and did, without a starting point, in an hour and a half.
...I'm amazing, I know. That's the one thing I really like about myself. My ability to procrastinate and then create this wonderful, sparkling project. Usually having to do with English-related things, however, and usually in the form of a kick-butt paper. But a "Lord of the Flies In Five Easy Steps" guide is pretty amazing too. And creative, too. Go Casey. Go.

So, you have a wonderful day so far, waking up generally later than usual, and then doing some cleaning, and then going to lunch with your friend and boyfriend. Your friend (let's call him Ben) decides that, while you were in the dollar store, you should buy silly string and have a battle in Central Park. So you do. And it's ridiculously fun. Then you hang out in the coolest place ever (okay, it's just Little Professor.), and then go home.

Half an hour later, you go to the orthodontist, blissfully optimistic, expecting just a routine color-changing and "Are you wearing your rubber bands?" But, no. You get into the chair, and the ortho lady lets you choose your colors (misleading wench) and then Dr. Loveless comes over. "Well, the tooth that we're trying to move is too far forward, and it's having a bad effect on these two teeth...So..." And then he does it. He starts making the Devil's Plaything -- The LEVER. Oh, you wish you had never had an impacted tooth, and loathe your braces. He fashions the lever, and hands it the aforementioned Misleading Wench. Misleading Wench proceeds to tie the lever to the chain (attached to your impacted canine tooth,)incredibly tightly, using steel wire, which rubs against the roof of your mouth to such an extent that you can taste blood. Your high pain tolerance could not, apparently, tolerate this, and as your nerves send panicky pain messages to your brain, your tears start rolling into your ears, filling them with water. Meanwhile, Misleading Wench, using a series of cold metal instruments and another regular braces wire, cinches the now-tied-up wire to the main wire, using more scraping, pulling, and twisting methods. This inflicts horrible pressure and pain on the two teeth on either side of the gaping hole in your mouth, causing more tears, and the throbbing in your temples gets much worse. After you get your bright orange bands on, and you look in the mirror at the tangle and maze of steel that used to be the left side of your mouth, Misleading Wench informs you that you have to come back only ONE WEEK later, before you leave for Florida. Joy and rapture, you think. As you wait for the receptionist, the pain in your teeth starts seeping into your gums, making its way to your head, where now you have a headache that won't yield to three Tylenol. At all.

You now sit at your computer, writing a ridiculously long and whiney entry, and wish that your head would stop feeling like some enraged bipolar person had taken out their anger on it with a sledge hammer.

...Have a nice day, everyone.

Oh, the beauty of ignoring grammar. Apparently, ignorance is bliss. There are some artists, including Martina, that I just get over it for, ya know? Like, grammar? What's grammar? Screw grammar, I like this song. Rob Thomas and Garth Brooks also have this effect on me. I really haven't any idea why. I guess it's the quality of the songs. The songs themselves are just so amazing thatthe "word" 'ain't' being used really doesn't kill it. Or "I don't wanna be lonely no more," should bother me immensely, but it doesn't.

Sorry. With sickness comes random ranting on my part.

Drama team this morning = LOVE. And all we did was play an improv game that we're doing this Wednesday, and then another exercise. But just acting again made my day. My week, probably. It was ... wonderful. I miss acting all the time. It's so liberating. I'm the only girl on the team of four. Steve, Curt, and Nick are the gentlemen. These boys, despite me previously/stupidly dating one of them, I love spending time with them. They make me laugh very hard, and I apparently amuse them.

"If more than two of you are talking at once, I'll break your legs. Both of them. Straight off."

Isaac's birthday party was a wonderful time. Halo is very amusing to watch, and I'm assuming, very amusing to play. Especially when all of the characters on screen are named after STDs. My small group leader, who hung out a bit, and her daughter Merry came to an interesting conclusion about Paul. *decides not to say any more*

"HERPES BETRAYED SYPHILIS!"

Hellz yeah, I'm updating at school. Oh, this is a good time.

I finished my article analysis for Health very early, and am just killing time. I looked over at Sam's screen next to me about 30 seconds ago, and she was typing lyrics to "Help" by the Beatles. I laughed very hard. 'Twas amusing, to be sure. Anyway.

Small group was amazing. Amidst the answering of questions from a Folger's can, and a round of Squeeze Prayer, and the Voygage for the Forks, there was cake. Very, very good cake. I think the frosting was better than the cake, though. And of course, the conversation over aforementioned cake consisted mainly of boys. Majority was Paul, and then Heather's boyfriend Bryan, and then Paul again. All kinds of good stuff. Yay. Most of the group was surprised at Paul's ambition to wear a suit to Homecoming. The exception, of course, being Ashley Federer, whose opinion it is sure that boys should wear nothing short of a suit, and if they do, it might as well be a cowboy hat and flippers. But, she's just cool like that. Too bad Joey won't be wearing a suit. *Ashleyward glance*

Blenderize: 1. To put in a blender, with intention of making of generally smooth consistency. 2. Mr. Will's new word, which he used at least 4 times yesterday.

ELLEN, DAVID AND I HAD SEX!
In case you aren't in Health right now, I'll explain. We did this AIDS demonstration in which we each had a cup of supposed water. We would mingle for a bit until Mr. Hunst told us to have a fluid exchange. Then we would pour our cup into our partner's, and then pour half back into ours. We could label the fluid exchange with anything that actually exhanged fluids. Sex, falling into a puddle of urine, having a paper cut and getting into a fistfight...Sex was the most amusing, quite honestly. So I had sex with Ellen, and then with David, and various other things with two other people. At the beginning only one person was infected, and then at the end, 11 people were. Scary.

Class is ending. Ciao.