go for it

I was just about to start writing, but I noticed it’s 11:11.

So of course, I have to make a wish.

Hold on, dammit.

OK. Done.

No. You don’t get to know what it was.

But you do get to know that I just squealed like a little girl because I saw a spider the size of a quarter duck behind the bookshelf. (OF COURSE, where I can’t get to him to smash his brains out.)

All the guys are out of the house tonight, so I’ve had time (and quiet) to think about things. Between spraying my clothes with Permethrin while in my underwear to eating generic Rice Krispies for dinner, I’d have to say that I realized that life is pretty fucking good. I get to do what I want, mostly when I want and with whomever I want.

Yes. I know what I want, when I want it, and who I want it to be with. And I usually go after it. And most the time? Most the time I get it.

So there.

Who says getting older sucks? Cause I beg to differ. Seriously.

If nothing else, it means making better decisions, such as not doing this to my hair:


A couple years ago, coming down from my “losing my mind” meltdown year, I went to Switzerland for a work trip. I said to my friends that I was going to find a hot European and I was going to ride on the back of a motorcycle with him. Well, that didn’t work out. And yes. I asked. Believe me. I walked straight up to my now-husband and I asked him:

“Do you have a motorcycle?”

And the rest is history.

But I didn’t go out seeking a husband. Christ. Hell no. In fact, I already had one. (In process of divorce, in case you NEED to know the details.) I just wanted a good time. I knew what I wanted, and I went for it.

I wanted to have fun. I wanted to make shit happen.

That’s still true. More so every day, in fact.

I want to see things. Meet new people. I want to take pictures. I want to cry when I want and stay up late if I want. I want to go to bed early. I want to have amazing sex. I want to tell stupid jokes. I want to make my kids crack up. I want to take baths, even if they are only 9 minutes long (It’s so damn hot in there!). I want to watch football and eat wings and laugh obnoxiously. I’m good at it. Seriously.

I want to share too much and ask if I shared too much after the fact. I do it every time. I’m the girl at the party who talks and talks and says all the things in her head, only to later ask everyone around me if I shared too much.


I’m me.

They’ll get over it.

It’s like that sex comment earlier.

You know what I’m talking about.

It made you blush and think OMG! when you read it. Admit it. I threw that one in there JUST FOR YOU.

But seriously, people. Don’t we all want that? (NOT the hot sex, you dirty, dirty kid.) Don’t we all just want to be happy? To get what we want? To make others happy around us?

But you know what? It’s tough. Society makes us believe it’s too selfish to want so much. And it’s bad to say it out loud, for sure. But why? What’s wrong with knowing what you want and going for it? Why am I so different than the CEO (usually a dude) who knows what he wants and goes for it? He gets a pat on the back. So that’s what I want. I want a pat on the damn back for admitting that I know what I want and for being ballsy enough to say it AND go after it. Because in the end, it’s not all that selfish to want to be happy. Happiness is contagious.


Side note that is kinda, sorta related, but I’m still throwing it in here, because this is my damn blog and I’ll do what I want. See how that works? 

There was talk on the internets today of flipping people off, which reminded me of some stories from my past.

When I took an internship in North Carolina at a newspaper, there were several people who made fun of me because I flipped everyone off all the time. And then again, when I came to Indianapolis, coworkers at the paper here said the same thing. I was always flipping people off. Always saying, “Yeah, whatever. I’ll do what I want.” It became somewhat of a thing. If Kasey flipped you off, you’d made friends. Seriously.

I guess I’ve always had it in me a little. Maybe it’s the Pittsburgh roughness around the edges. Maybe it’s just me, and I’d be that way no matter where I came from.

But now that I’m getting older, I’m not afraid to admit that that IS me. That’s me. Take it or leave it. I’m not afraid to say “Fuck it. That’s stupid. That’s just DUMB … Here’s the middle finger. Love ya!”

In other words … I’m not afraid to go for it. And you shouldn’t be, either.

And if you don’t like it that I know what I want, and I’m not afraid to go after it, well then, this one’s for you:









From your friend.

I send that with lots of love, of course.



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