It takes work and it takes two

Hello worms,

It’s a good day to talk about love.

That four letter word that petrifies nearly everyone who knows its meaning. It’s the word some want to hear, some need to hear and some wish to bury amongst the ancient ruins that will one day resemble that of Pompeii.

I am no archeologist or history buff, I saw that on a documentary that aired on PBS several years ago while I ate a less-than-appetizing ham sandwich that resembled something straight out of an episode of The Office.

Back to the point.


Every time I think of love I’m swept away into the memories I’ve read in a book, Pride and Prejudice. For the love of someone who didn’t expect they deserved it.

The title of my blog is based on a book by Mr. Raymond Carver. It’s all about what love is and what we mean when we talk about it.

Did I say that right? No.

But you get the point.

Let me make one thing clear – reading books about love does NOT  make you an expert on the subject. I would label myself as novice in the world of love.

I always thought that my loving someone would look like something I imagined while I read a book. Truth me told its more than that. It’s much more than that.

My imagination thought about wedding cakes and sparkling dresses instead of honesty, persistence and dedication.

I have some kind of wild imagination but loving people isn’t all hearts and flowers like we see and read.

Love is work. It’s work no matter who it is you’re loving. You could be loving your best friend and it’s work.

You have to decide for yourself that love is a commitment. Truth be told I don’t think I’ve ever been great at loving people but it’s something I decided long ago that I needed to work on.

Love to me looks like communication.

Love to me looks like understanding.

Most importantly, love to me looks like the people I’ve surrounded myself with.

So no matter how romantic those stories seem or make you feel. Remeber that like all good things:

love takes work.


Thanks for reading,







Dead Rite, dead wrong and dead on

Hey bloggers,

Yesterday I realized with the semester at a close, I needed something to do to spindle away slow hours at work, considering, working at a tag office is either hectic or completely dead.

That being said, I jumped into a new, short novel, “Dead Rite” by Jim Gilmore. I bought this book along with a slew of others when Hastings in South central Oklahoma went out of business and decided to liquidate.

$0.10 for endless entertainment as I decided to buy about 20 different books and set them all on my bedside table as I slowly work my way through the pile.

Anyway, if I haven’t mentioned before, I LOVE MYSTERY NOVELS and whats more I love books with protagonists that make me feel understand, that cater to the fact that I’m a little different too and writers who write things that I think and feel.

Ever wondered why a book can be better than the movie version?

I have the answer.

The book can be better than the movie because it lets you feel everything for yourself. You create the world and the people in them with the help of descriptive words and feelings and subtle guides that help you build your characters.

Books are like your favorite food, they can always be delicious but you know which places you like to get them from the most.

I like to get mine from mystery novels.

Thanks for reading,


It Is Because I Am Strange 

Mediocrity is defined by Meriam Webster as, “the quality of being mediocre.” Meaning, the quality of being “not very good.” 

Some time ago a friend, who is no longer a friend, told me he saw my life panning out as somewhat average. 

To this day I’m still not sure what to think of that comment. 




All of these words mean something somewhat different but to me, they are familiar. Same.

Once I read a book that said “I am a collection of oddities.” 

I felt like that was me, until the not-so-friendly-friend told me otherwise but I’ve come to a conclusion. 

Yes, I am mediocre but in a world where everyone is trying to be unique, maybe this is my way of standing out. 

“Hey look, there’s that average girl, doing her average things and lovin’ every minute of it.”

Hell yeah. 

That’s me, the average girl, she’s a little odd but look at her go. 
Thanks for reading, 


The Key to Knowing Kept Man

Hello bloggers,

A few days ago I started a new book that I found in an obscure location inside the stacks of a thrift store. With an interesting title, “The Kept Man” by Jami Attenberg drew me in and I splurged my dollar on a book that I probably didn’t need.

All that explanation aside, I was surprised to find a perplexing opening sentence that has my head reeling.

It read as follows:

“I have been waiting for my husband to die for six years.”

As soon as I read it, I stopped, sat the book down and stared into space for quite some time.

I thought people spent their time always cautious to remember that today could be the last time they hear “I Love You” and today could be the last day to hold her hand or kiss her/him because I am one of those people. I have never thought the opposite.

I have heard, usually older people, say the all too common, “well atleast he/she isn’t in pain anymore.”

I never found those words comforting, in fact they almost stung when it was my granddad’s funeral and whether or not I believed that, it didn’t make the soap taste any sweeter.

I have continued to read the book and I hope to fill you in along the way. The feeling of curiosity has overwhelmed me and as a girl who is all about understanding the misunderstood, I am excited to have stumbled across this gem.

Mind you, I am also the type of girl who can love a book as soon as I begin to read it and hate it by the last page. Thats just me.

Let me know your thoughts,

— Casey

For lack of better judgment and give-a-damn

Good afternoon, worms

I reach out to a small audience hoping to touch someone with my every-growing sense of self and amateur writing style. Not only to better my writing but to show that it doesn’t take Shakespeare’s genius vocabulary skills to peak the interest of readers. Atleast, this is my hope.

This week after finishing a complicated and sometimes dizzying Thomas Hardy novel, I decided to go for something, light, sweet, simple and fast. So I chose a Harlequin romance novel.

I know what you’re thinking, “what kind of book lover chooses something juvenile?” And I have an answer for you.

The kind of book lover who loves all books, who shows no distaste for the simple read. Books can be big and comprehensive or short and straightforward, that doesn’t mean you have to love any of them more or less.

My weekly read is “Winter is Past” by Anne Weale

It could be your next favorite.

-Thanks for reading,



Ode to the 29’s of our lives

Good evening blogger,

Today I raise a glass to toast the start of the 29th book I will have read in the year 2016.

I can’t tell you why that number has any significance but what I can tell you is that I have never been more proud to be the person I am today than at any other time in my fleeting 22 years.

I have learned more about myself this year than I expected, I think partially this has to do with the constant changing state of Casey. Weeding out the good and bad of my life and learning what makes it all worth it.

Tomorrow I start a new job, I can tell you this is significant because I’ve worked at the same place for nearly four years and change isn’t something I take lightly or do often enough but the truth comes down to this:

it was time.

So, this is to the 29’s of your lives: the new jobs, the new families, the new pets, the new lunch spot, the new car, the new lover, the new record, the new life you are preparing for. I hope it finds you well, I always hope the 29’s find you well and you greet them eagerly.

“Give him another glass — then he’ll fetch up and get through it” -Thomas Hardy, Jude the Obscure

Thanks for reading,

-Lover of lit,


Relentless writing from a reader hoping to be read

Hello bloggers,

This week, notoriously known as dead week, is kicking my ass but it’s only gonna get me down if I let it; I refuse to let it.

I’ve procrastinated past the point of “oh this is fine.” I’ve now transitioned into the “I need to get my shit together” phase. Somehow I’m still sitting in the library, attempting to study, listening to Peter Gabriel and I really do feel fine.

Part of being a journalist is being a deadline driven.

I’m not sure I function in the well-planned. I’m also not a fly by the seat of my pants kind of girl but I am the kind of girl who puts everything off to curl up with a book instead of responsibility. The kind of girl who drinks three cups of coffee in the morning then goes without it for week. I’m the kind of girl who falls in love fast, with words, people and macaroni and cheese.

I’m also the kind of girl who wants to be read. I want to inspire the way some books have inspired me to keep reading, growing and pushing past the point of “this is fine” to the “this is extraordinary.”

One of my favorite poems describes me perfectly today, so here it follows:


by: Keith Douglas

Well, I am thinking this may be my last summer, but cannot lose even a part of pleasure in the old-fashioned art of idleness. I cannot stand aghast at whatever doom hovers in the background…

I’ll leave it at that.

lots of love from yours truly,

-thanks for reading,