About Me

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I am twenty-four years old, I love to read, write, sing, listen to music, watch theater, open presents, hike, and climb. The number one thing I dislike is lazy people. My goal in life over job, or money, or travel, is to overcome the struggles of the past, and become a whole, happy woman.

Saturday, December 29, 2012

Always hard to say goodbye

Third down on the list of people I absolutely adore, is my step-father. He has been the only positive male figure that stayed in my life, and loved me through the hard times. He had a saying when I got into trouble when I was younger, that eventually just became a family joke. He would smirk and say "Why do you keep doing it to yourself, why do you keep coming back for more?". We used to think it's funny, but now I would just say it was foreshadowing. I spent my teenage years ignorant, and cruel, and because of that I feel like when someone tells me I do something they don't like, I correct my life for them. I wish I could have an "in-between button", but I don't. And because I don't, that is why this will be my last post here.

I will still write and will find another site to blog on, because I can't live with a lot of these feelings inside, but it still hurts, this blog was my baby. I love everything about it, it is my home away from home. If I'm being vague, it's because I'm not alone on my blog anymore, too many eyes upon me. It's my own fault, you don't tell the people in your life that you have a blog, that's very stupid. I will continue to look up and see this as yet ANOTHER life lesson, so thank you for listening.

If you are one of the few who do listen out there, be sure to email me, and I will tell you the location and address of my new site when I find one. Shannonbeautie@yahoo.com

Love always-

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Post Christmas pictures and Bliss

Still a little Ice on the road (and in Oklahoma, that means NO travel to any place). So I would like to Share some of my Christmas photo's :) My Family, the snow, cookie pops I made, just a bunch of silly-happiness.

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Happy Holidays prt 2

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and I'm a happy girl.
My sister left the house to live at Dad's when she was thirteen, I was five. So for most of my life I was raised as an only child. So with that mindset, my friends were teddy bears, the cats and dogs, and everything in the house was mine, I had never shared. So growing up, I wouldn't say I was spoiled, I never got new clothes, or candy or toys, but the things I had we're MINE. I've always been too possessive. Especially with spending time with people, I want it to be one on one, I don't like sharing the attention.

I wasn't happy then. Over the past couple of years, I've learned that giving and sharing makes you feel more love than taking and owning. I've learned that I will have pain, I will be sick, and I will be disappointed in the world. But I think as my spirit has gotten happier and my heart has gotten stronger, I could be useful to the world. I've learned that children growing up now are rejecting religion because its forced by parents, and when that happens, you get the opposite effect. I've learned that we should stop taking and taking from each other and our government. We need to humility, and gratitude. I can't even describe how lucky I am to have people that care. I may get frustrated than in 3 weeks I turn 25 and I haven't graduated and I'm still living in a tiny apartment, BUT I could have it worse, oh geez, so much worse. I've been in worse places, and seen worse people. There is always a hope in this crazy world.

This Christmas, I live like a queen, with electricity, a roof over my head, and people that love.

Thank you , and God Bless us all this Christmas Day and every day after.

Sunday, December 16, 2012


So I caught a cold from the kids I nanny. Took care of them while they were sick, and now I'm taking care of myself on the weekend, blah. Worth it, but still a pain. Well, I have today and tomorrow to recover, and then I work forty-two hours in four days this week. I just have to say, in this sad time, that although children can be a handful, they really are a blessing! I hear a lot of whining, and fits, but  they love me and I adore them. I feel for Connecticut, and hope they can find a way to see the good that is still out there. Trying to make the best out of this time, and I can't wait for family and Christmas.
          Keep the Cheer(and the DayQuil)

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

You almost have to say something on 12-12-12

People say spring is the time of love, and I beg to differ! What is winter without sharing a blanket, some hot chocolate, and a soft whisper with someone you adore? Winter is a time of glitter, and lights, and cookies! Big sweaters that make you look fat, and hibernating with the bear of your choice. I like to choose a papa bear, who gets irritated when I smoosh the bread, and humors me as I cry to the worst chick flick imaginable.

I've spent the longest time letting winter get the best of me. Not this year. Cinderella will not turn into a snowman this year, I will continue to be a princess all the year round. A sloppy, emotional, tights wearing princess; but a princess all the same.

Today is 12-12-12, and I am grateful for my time.

The people in my life that truly care about me are indescribable! Although I'm not the most popular girl, and the people I speak of are a small handful, they have enough love to light up my heart for many lifetimes. Friends who talk, friends who make me laugh, friends who simply listen to my sad pathetic life. I am so lucky.

I wish love could drive the world like hate. Love can be more powerful than any feeling, but it doesn't have the stamina of hate and sadness. I think Christmas (weather you celebrate it or not) brings out the best in people.People who give their last penny to make someone smile, people who preform a work of art. If you listen, you can hear music in the distance, and weather you are alone or not, someone loves you. I love you. I want to adopt the world and tell them stories of hope. Simple wishes of a simple girl on this December morning.

"I am in love with you. I have been since the first day I called on you. There are many things in your character which cure me. I prefer to tell you and I have done well, and now that I have I will suffer much less when you show me the door. But the truth is that I suffer, and my strength is wanting"
- Alfred De Musset

Saturday, December 1, 2012

Fuzzy, but always so clear

He never acknowledges the ticking time bomb that is heard in never-land
The youth giving out one last cry for help.
I feel my youth, persuasion, and intelligence draining from me by the hour.
I feel my pain come and go through the charade.
I'm a good sport,
And an even better actor.
I'm a bad liar,
And even worse lover.
Truth be told,
I wasn't meant for the life of love,
I am a caged bird, a sleeping beauty, a lost soul.
I hurt and I sing.
There is a part of me that still holds onto life,
That part that convulses in the night.
My  dreams take me away and make me feel. Make me see.
Is it that hard to live like you?
Is it that hard to be real?

Friday, November 30, 2012

A letter to a kindred soul

I received a book in the mail today, that one does not just buy themselves. Deep down I am a romantic, but I don't buy into this modern sex appeal and swift love. I want deep old fashion love, filled with subtlety and private meanings. Anyway, nine of this is important to this post, but I believe a thank you is in order, and how else to say thank you, but by a quote of the gift.

"Do not believe that I have ever failed to appreciate you; to think that would be to wrong me; for it would imply that you thought that I know not how to appreciate that which is devoted and noble. "
Napoleon the III, 1845


Friday, November 16, 2012

Should You give money to the homeless?

I'm a recent citizen of the "big city" (nothing is truly big in Oklahoma), and moving from a small town to a big city, I'm new to the world of the U.S homeless. I don't know what is accurate, about the homeless as I hear so many things. I pulled up to a stop light this morning and there was a dirty man in his forties holding a sign saying he and his family needed help, and my heart sank. As I pulled away and saw him in the rear view mirror I remembered the four one's I had in my purse. I thought "what if he truly did have a family that needed my help. Kids? A wife counting on him? How often do the homeless lie about there status? Should I feel guilty about my life? I just don't know. I'm assuming I'll feel guilty either way, but what are your views or experiences.

Poem about my lawyer(I know, I'm odd)

My lawyer says he's proud of me,
Old man with a brand new heart.
We are strangers,
But kindred torn apart

He keeps his hearing aid
In a jar of artichokes,
And his faith
Made me cry and gave me hope.

Friday, November 9, 2012

Being thankful

I realized today that because I use my writing to vent, that I don't sound like a very happy person, but today I will try to change that. What I'm about to say may sound bitter and not as happy as Im trying to make it out to be, but know that I truly mean it when I say I'm thankful, It is a new day and I'm alive;walking, breathing and smiling, but I would like to take a second and reflect on how many times all this could have ended.

I'm thankful my father saved me as a baby, when I could have suffered shaken baby syndrome, I'm thankful my sister walked into the bathroom when I was a baby and under water in the bath tub, I'm thankful for her again when she saved me from choking on a particular brown peanut M&M when I was five,and when I was six, my step father saved me from drowning in some rapids after I fell off my tube, and when I refused to get back into the water, he graciously walked with me the entire stretch of river. I'm grateful that at the age of thirteen when I tried to swallow a bottle of 409 bathroom cleaner that I promptly threw it up, and that when I was cutting myself with scissors and knives that I never cut too deep. I'm thankful for the night in eleventh grade when I sped across town and ran every red light at 80mph, I could have died or killed another person. I'm thankful I had Matt when I skipped my senior prom and tried to drown myself. I'm thankful for my mistakes that allow me to grow stronger and see a broader perspective. Without all those people in my life who saved me, and without the grace of God, I would not be here today, and while sometimes in my life I don't enjoy the choices or paths I have to take, at least I'm here to see the few beautiful up days and the strengths of the wonderful people around me.

Thank you God for keeping me alive, when it would have been easier to let me go:)

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Young Republican, in a sea of Liberals

I put my pearls in to clean today, both things sooth my naturally cranky disposition. However, today with the election results sinking in, I'm a little more bitter than usual. I'm getting more and more aware that I'm not going to shake this generational retardation that I have forever grown up with. The same ones that followed the crowd and spent their time seeking attention from designer clothes and living off mommy and daddy, are now attempting to wear hemp and attend music festivals to prove their love for the environment and how they have soul. That is the liberal I know. Having your money, belongings and destiny handed to you gives you no right to dictate what the hard working people of this society are trying to do with our country. I'm tired of people voting because of one issue. I think giving is a wonderful thing, but I also think if you worked hard your whole life and came into money on your own, you should get a break. The sad thing is, if the poor were in the position that they came into money they would change their views. Mine haven't differed. I struggle with finances, but I work, and go to school, so I can get a better career and live comfortably. What society is telling me is that when I get to that point, I should give ALL of my money to the poor because they didn't have the same opportunities that I have? That's bullshit. I'm a white female, and while that probably meant something ten or twenty years ago, the tables have turned. I receive no minority scholarships, or handouts because of my race. You say one thing about what's happening in the U.S right now and you are racist. I tell people I don't believe in gay marriage I'm spewing hate. I don't beat up on or hate gay people, I don't attempt to make them feel bad, but they do the same to me. If Hobby Lobby and Chic-Fa-Le have their own beliefs, they are ignorant, and hateful. However, gay pride parades happen throughout the U.S. and there are even businesses that support that, do I refuse to shop or eat at these places? No, because telling them they can't believe and feel what they feel IS ignorant, and because Liberalism is on the trend in society I am the devil.

I have always tried to defend my beliefs, even when they get me into trouble. In college, I had a huge falling out with my peers for two reasons, one being the only person defending a strict professor. Two professor's at my school had it out for each other, and in an immature act, had the students stand out to defend them. The professor that let minors over to her house to have parties, and drink, and who gave easy A's in class had over fifty kids come to her aid. The other professor who had hard courses and was deemed a grumpy old man, had me. Needless to say, she pushed him into retirement, and everyone lived happy and partied on. My voice counted for nothing that day, as it did yesterday. But sometime doing what's right makes you look bad, makes you unpopular, or even makes you "old". In conclusion to my raving, don't do what makes you more agreeable, no one cares if you were popular in whatever afterlife you believe in.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Cloudy with a chance of showers

My youth destroyed me. I was so loved and doted upon, called beautiful and taken care of by whoever was near. If I hadn't had all that, it wouldn't hurt so bad to be nothing now. I mean I'm nothing. Sure I'm a daughter, sister, friend, and girlfriend, but it feels empty. The last four times my sister called me it was about presents she wanted me to buy her, her boyfriend, and her son. Mom is basically bipolar, she spent my entire youth not in existence, and not that she doesn't have to take care of or deal with me, she adores me. As for being a friend and a girlfriend, I think a lot of that is just a mask for me not being lonely, them not being lonely. Life is stagnant, and hurtful. It's bills and mental abuse. Empty goals and cold homes. I distract myself from the way I feel by playing games, and pretty clothes. Nothing seems worth it. Not school, not work, not the future. I just want to be done with school so I can apply to work in the peace corps and be out of this for two years. Maybe I'm just having a bad day, but sometimes I think "This is the real me, and the rest of the time, I'm being drugged by possessions and endorphins". I miss addiction. It was the one thing I could count on.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Pop Culture? What happened to Rock Culture?

When you turn on the radio, you get computer generated noises with bleach white smiles sitting in the recording studio's doing little to no work. What happened to Rock? What happened to full blood talent? To black and white romance instead of "vampire diaries"? Simplicity and talent got confused with a clump of spoiled brats and gangsters talking into a microphone. I hear most of these "chicks" and the new-found men who look like chicks sound horrible live, and the ones that don't, they have enough money to bring along their massive sound machines to make them sing on key.

Lake City, Colorado

We headed to the highest peak in the San Juan mountain range, wanted to see what 14,000 feet looked like. Didn't quite make it, but got a work out looking for it.

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Something new in September...

On accident I'm trying something new every weekend in September! The first weekend, I did grape stomping, the second, "Pole fitness", the third I can't really talk about, and next weekend is my sisters 32nd birthday so we are going to a trampoline gym with a ton of built in floor trampolines and foam pits. I'm adding picture, some are funnier than others lol.

Friday, September 7, 2012

Fiction. Not done.

"Are you going to shoot?" my friend looked at me like I was crazy, I had been eyeing a man in pleather pants since he walked in.
"Sorry" I bounced my ball against the side of the pool table and it went right back to the middle. I think my best friend Maggie assumed I had spaced out, I would never be caught staring at a man wearing not even tacky leather, but PLEATHER. He wasn't an attractive man, looked like a dead beat and failed musician from the Flock of Seagulls era.
"Listen, can we please go grab a drink, we have been playing for fifteen minutes and the exact same amount of balls are on the table" I looked down at our sad display of athleticism, and headed toward the bar.
We sat down in the middle of open seats so as to stay "available" and I leaned purposely and eaegerly over the bar to get the bartenders attention. He never asked what we wanted but simply tapped the bar as if we were regulars, I shyly went with a rum and coke while my Maggie went with her usual, a White Russian. Ever since she's seen the movie The Big Labouski, with her Ex she thought that a White Russian was a drink that would get a man's attention. I tried explaining to her that men seldom drink Kahlua, and that it does not make her a "bad ass", but she prefers to talk instead of listen.
We were in the middle of a conversation on her recent obsession gone vampire to wolves when he came and sat down right next to me. I stopped listening to Maggie and tried to look annoyed by his presence. He turned his body to me and just smiled in a very smug way, no words, just that stupid god-awful smile.
"pleather pants...really?" I decided to be the bigger person and break the silence
"I'm environmentally friendly, these are my 'save the cow' pants". His humor bugged me, his arrogance was insulting, and his style choices made my skin crawl. However he was the only source of entertainment aside from my grueling conversation on, witches? Oh I already forgot.
"I wouldn't have come here if I had known they just let anyone in" I tried to hide my delight in my flirtatious insults, but I think he knew he had me the minute he walked in.
"I come here a lot, but you knew that didn't you?"
"I haven't seen you in two years, I hardly go around plotting where you'll be boozing it up and embarrassing yourself by looking like a fifteen year old trying to rebel.
"I miss you" I was speechless. I couldn't throw any banter, I couldn't even breathe. "Stick around, I think you'll like the next show."
As he walked away, I replayed the conversation in my mind. Do I miss him? How could you miss someone with no ambition or future? Easy I suppose, the men with ambition treat you like shit, and he treated me like a goddess he so badly needed to win over. I heard Maggie talking in the background asking questions about the 'smelly man I had been talking to', but I was in a room halfway across country over four years ago.
"Tell me what you want?" His smoldering eyes were locked with mine and his hands grabbed my face. "I'll do anything"
"Make me hurt" I said softly, and before I could blink I was being thrown against the wall.

Monday, August 27, 2012

In the absence of writing...

I like the city. It's big and lonely, and people here are cold, sounds horrible, but it suits me. Back home where I grew up, I have the pressure of my family to be their savior. To be the child who saves them, who makes all the money to cure all their unhappiness's, and to be classy and beautiful the entire time. To have faith, but to be strong. To keep love, but never let a man hold me down. Here in the city I can make my own dreams, to not have my mistakes blown up at Kinko's on a poster board for the entire town to gossip about. I don't even know these people I graduated with, how do they have time to gossip about me. It's depressing to go out in your hometown. The same people every night. The only people left from your class are the ones who have had children, or that have done so many drugs they can't move anywhere else for fear they won't have any "connections" for pot, or worse. I blend in up here, I'm left alone. I like being left alone, to have my own thoughts, and my own emotions. To have my own dreams, and have room to make mistakes.

Everyday when I come home I walk past the first apartment on the first floor, and I smell the coconut from her home. I couldn't pinpoint the smell, until Scott assured me it was coconut. I've always preferred the smells of foods to the headache that I get from floral scents. The woman who lives there makes me sad. She had a black eye last week, and her boyfriend looks like the type to have done it to her. He's bald, likes to have a beer constantly in his grips, and looks as if he thinks he's the "big man on campus". Men like that repulse me. Usually when you have doubts and insecurities it's a sign you're human, and humanity is hard to come by in the world we live in.

My cousin got into a car accident two weekends ago. She had just got into nursing school and was starting a new job on the Monday after, so she went out with her friends to celebrate. She got extremely drunk and ran into a tree. She has been through several surgeries since, and her and her mother have to go into physical therapy. I haven't always been a fan of my cousin, and she hasn't always made the best decisions, but she was TRYING to turn her life around. I know about mistakes, and I also know about trying my hardest to go forward and being pushed further away by the current. Ever since I've heard of her wreck, I have been tense in the car, worried that one wrong turn or one idiot not looking when he switched lanes would leave me paralyzed. I don't know if my cousin will be able to walk, but I do know she will get through it with the help of all her loved ones. I couldn't do it, my mind would check out, and my body would never recover. I pray for her healing, and that her daughter will be taken care of in her absence.

Sunday, August 26, 2012


Another one of my oh-too-real dreams. It's never the dreams you want to be vivid, it's the unlucky horrible, dying, falling, teeth falling out kind of dreams that seem to get published in my mind. In my dream we were all in the same house all these bad people in one house, and then Scott was there, occasionally trying to save me. My unconscious knows how to hit me where it hurts. Day turned to night in my dream world and he crept into my room while no one was looking. He dragged me by my foot, out of the room and my REAL body felt all of the tension and horror. Scott came in several times putting the monster back to his room and putting me into my own, but he kept reappearing until   morning, trying to take the last ounce of good inside of me and replace it with more of the nightmare memories. I got through the darkest night inside of my dream, and when I "awoke" I was surrounded by these skeleton dolls and figurines. Why did he leave these behind? Reminding me that he succeeded in destroying me,and that I will always have these skeletons in my closet? Scott wasn't there back then. I had no protection.

I'm awake and uncomfortable. I feel stiff and sad. Usually my active imagination has no effect on my day, but this is doing a number.

Friday, August 10, 2012

"I need a daddy" syndrome

I was rotten to the core in my late teens. I had just moved out for the first time, and no longer had my mother controlling my dating life. So of course I went through a strand of meaningless, incompatible relationships. When I was nineteen, I dated a man from New York, he was a sports doctor, and very much Italian. His, what can only be described as a mansion, was on the same street as the guy who invented the Nintendo. My first time meeting him, he had a limo pick me up at the airport, and answered the door with another fellow doctor. I remembered thinking "Who the hell do I think I'm kidding? I can't be with a man who has ACTUAL lion statues in the front of his house!". He was always very kind, and very much a gentleman. He would take me out to these dim, fancy restaurants with a group of different people every time, no one ever asked for my ID, and he would always order for me. I have to admit, even as I'm getting older and bitter, it feels nice to be paraded around and catered to. Alas, like most things, my guilt got in the way. I didn't love this man. He wasn't ever going to be around, he was older, smarter, stronger, and wealthier. I couldn't do this to him. Not only was I just not interested in his slight arrogance, but I am a complete mess that he'd never be able to keep up with mentally. Our little fling lasted about two months tops before he started talking about marriage and I walked out the door.

I bring this up, because lately as I'm struggling, and hurting, I think of me being unhappy with him, but physically taken care of. Isn't that already fifty percent better than I am right now? I'm not saying that I would ever consider dating someone with  money again, but the reason I broke up with him, is that he didn't have the time for me, and didn't understand my emotional needs. But I realize now that no man will support me emotionally unless he is gay, or an IT nerd who doesn't leave the house even for groceries.

I don't support it, but I understand how women could be lesbians. Women listen, women struggle, women hurt and deal. Women get abused, and discarded. Women Care.

I'm sure there are men out there who care, but they are few and far between. Men get confused, assuming that women want a Latin lover, a muscle man, or a wilderness explorer...But they are wrong. I could care less about your muscles, or your new polo. I'm not going to drool over your big truck, or latest catch, and I don't find it impressive if your number one in the random online game you play. I care that we can fight for the same beliefs, I care if you treat me with care and see when I'm hurting, and most of all I care about spending time together, conquering the world together.

I fight the world alone.

Saturday, August 4, 2012

This is what Hell is like

My whole life I have been told that every wrong move I make puts me one step closer to Hell. Guilt and fear are why I started cutting to begin with. I cut myself to escape real Hell, but was taught every time I made a cut I was putting myself at the top of the Devils list.
I can't wait to meet God and ask him what I did to deserve the life I live. I still wish I cut, I would cut two to three times a week if I could. You know the only thing stopping me? The one thing I fear more  than death, than failure, than weakness or shame. Being unattractive. I guess I can add shallow to my list of faults. I never understood why I put so my stock into my looks, every problem I've ever had is due to not being taken seriously because of my looks, or being taken TOO seriously because of my looks. I can't even put into words how much pain I'm in.
I bring up hell, because I often wonder(being a person who believes in God and the Devil) how hell compares to real life. You work your ass off,  just to barely get by, you hope that your hobbies, friends, family, and materials can keep you happy long enough to survive. But they never do. All I ever want to do is be some one worth while, succeed, be a role model for women and children. But I take one step forward, and when I finally think stability has sunk in, I fall down a flight of stairs. I went to a Christian haunted house in 2008, and walked through a scenario and saw what Hell "might" be like. It was sad, scary, and overly painful. Most of my days are the same. I don't know if I was born cynical, or just a realist...but WHAT IS THE POINT?
What do we have to look forward to? Your memories won't matter when you die, the sex you had wont matter, your paycheck won't matter where you're going, and neither will my wardrobe. So why do I go to work? Why do I smile for the people I love? Why do I pay my bills or go to school?
Because I fucking have to.
Because suicide will lead to your family and friends having a harder time, and resenting you for being so selfish. I have no choice but to live out my life and die trying to succeed. And...I, I just don't want to. I don't want to be in pain anymore. I don't want to worry anymore, it's a slow suicide that will age me quicker than my addiction to cutting.
And if you think I'm crying out for sympathy, please don't respond with it. I don't need someone to feel sorry for me, because there is no reason, lots of people have much worse lives. I just don't have a strong heart, or undying faith. I've got a tiny thread left of my nerve, and there is a rock weighing it down.
I need a friend, but I don't trust anyone. I need advice, but I've heard everything from "it will pass" to "pray". I need drugs, but won't be another statistic. I need a hug, but hate to be touched. I need therapy...but could never afford it. I need a strong drink and a dozen sleep inducing pills.

Monday, July 30, 2012

The pursuit of happiness

If I don't get a certain amount of endorphins everyday, I feel empty. Granted I have gotten better at coping after all these years, but it still hurts inside. It's frusterating to know that I have to do a certain amount of exercise or have a certain amount of human interaction to not feel depressed. I used to think it was sunlight, but I've gotten plenty today. It's infuriating to not know anything for certain, to be dissatisfied with life and the way things are in life and the world. I need control. Or a rush. When I get a rush, I'm good for a few days. A rush is easier to obtain than say actual happiness. The pursuit of happiness is an unhappy one.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

I'm a nanny

My girls sing show tunes, their favorite is the sound of music, and they get that from me. They are beautiful, intelligent, and so much fun. Going to work and most days having a three year old wrap their arms around you and say "Can I hug you Shanny?" or a two year old who is potty training "Are you proud of me?" is one of the most marvelous feelings in the whole world. I feel amazing knowing I taught a child that, or that they grow up with a silly trait of mine, such as the show tunes bit. They love me and I love them, but it's hard raising children you can't keep nor get attached too. Well I'm attached.
Being in the "child care" profession, you have to learn a little humility. I sing about peeing on the potty, scrub poop from the rug, do someone elses dishes before coming home to my own, and basically have zero control over anything in the house. My opinions, religious views, or political status doesn't matter when I walk through the door at 7:30 am. When I walk through the door, I'm no longer a girlfriend, daughter, or have a problem in the world. At 7:30, I am a bubbly mess of mother, sister, child, and mostly friend to my three year-old-twins, two year old, and the only boy who is a whopping 11months old. I forget about the fights I have had the night before, and the exam due on Monday, because there is breakfast to be made, songs to be sung, walks to be had, and I have got to start thinking of new science projects for the twins.
But, being a nanny is not all hugs and laughs. When you work for people who can afford a nanny(or three) you have to realize that the children will be as equally spoiled as the parents. I work for a mom who doesn't like to hear her children cry(and who would)and rewards their screaming fits with food such as skittles, gummies, Reece's, granola, and chocolate milk. If you know two-year-olds, you know that it is the age of testing boundaries and a lot of  "no", but when your co-nanny tells her to "please put the stick down, it is too big and sharp" and she throws herself on the ground for forty-five minutes straight, that maybe something is missing(or needs to be added). There has been a lot of tantrums this week. Fortunately you can step back and realize, it isn't their fault. They have no structure or discipline in their lives, and we are not aloud to implement it by any means.
All in all, despite having a set of twins boss me around between 30-38 hours a week for two years, it is pretty great. When my life goes south, and nothing seems to be going right, their faces brighten my world. Sometimes it's easier to be at work than it is at home, and I'm grateful for that.
My intelligent Asian Von-trap children are a huge part of my chaotic little world, and I love it.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Morality Vs. Laziness

I'm tired of promises and our government in general. Why is it that Obama thinks handing us "free" things and having more people on welfare and food stamps will make people happy and help this economy at all?! We need to rehabilitate America, reward the hard workers and self made man. Not reward people who won't work because they can't find the right job for them. I can't tell you how many of my friends are without work because they don't want to, don't have to, or they simply refuse to work in the food industry or get a pay cut. A job is a job, and work is work. Have you no self-respect? If you believe in sin, you know that pride is one of the seven deadly sins. Where will your pride get you in life? Maybe you think it will get you people's respect? Well, you're wrong, people are cruel, they will find some reason to dislike you. It starts with our children! We are raising lazy wimps. Children see our society sue McDonalds because their coffee is hot, that if you don't want to work, the government will take care of you, and that you shouldn't respect anyone or anything anymore. America is filled with immorality, and it is a disease that won't stop growing. I can't say that I'm a good example of morality, or am a pillar of religious strength, but I know that most marriages end in divorce, that in general people are only looking out for themselves, and that the media makes sex, drugs and partying the end all in our sad little lives. What happened to family? What happened to book clubs and family soft ball teams as opposed to kindles and NCAA on the XBox? I love technology, and hate it all the same. I would love to receive love letters instead of texts. I would love to send Christmas cards instead of Facebook albums. Sure technology is making my life easier...but maybe my life shouldn't be easier. Maybe I learn more through strife. I have been thinking of babies lately, because at my age, everyone starts having them. I think of how pretty they are and how pure. I think that I would want one someday soon, but how? How can I do that to a child? It's such a scary world, and it's not getting better. You can't raise your child a captive in your home, they won't learn that way, but can I send them out in the world and hope they have enough self-esteem, and self-worth to make all the right choices? God knows I never had the self-worth to do anything right. To spoil or punish, to push or to hold on. It mind be easier to just never have a baby. I think that people, throughout time, kill themselves, not because they are cowards, but as one final act of defiance. Saying "my existence is the one thing that I can control" and even that isn't true. You say you're going to kill yourself, and you get locked up on someone else's dime. I suppose everything is bothering me today. It bothers me that my life can't truly ever amount to anything big enough to be remembered. It bothers me that I look forward to nothing but small, minute details that don't contribute to society at all. I'm sorry I'm not a happy little peach, I will be more aware of my negativity in my next post:)

Monday, July 16, 2012

Love is distracting

Even though Scott and I have been together for 4 years I still can't get any work done when he's around. It makes me sad when he's gone, but I get more work done, and even exercise harder. He got back into town Saturday and I've done nothing productive since. It's a good thing and bad I suppose. I only work 4 days this week, because I'm trying my hand at American Idol. It involves me waking up at 3 am on Friday to do so, and I can promise you I'd rather be at work for half a day and then go home to relax. What people don't get about American Idol preliminaries is that you aren't in front of the Judges you see on TV...NO NO they have to weed out a zillion people and THEN send a handful to Hollywood. No pressure, just be the best, of the best, of the BEST. I wouldn't like fame as much as I would just like to be on the show. I miss being a ham on stage, it is one of the very few things I'm any good at. Anywho, send your luck my way this week:)

Saturday, July 7, 2012

My world as seen in Sucker Punch

I spent a week avoiding math, and confronting my problems. Now it's time to push back my self-centered sorrow and go back to work. I try to remember what was on the dry erase board last week, but I can't, I just hear my little teacher with her Russian accent and bad grammar. I'm so distracted with my problems, then there is the color run next weekend and American Idol after that. That's a lot to prepare for. I should be running, or singing, or DOING HOMEWORK. Why can't I?
I hate to see what would happen if I took up caffeine, or even drugs for that matter. I'm already an unfocused little disaster.
Scott told me once, that he thought I couldn't take drugs because of where my mind goes on a normal basis. Some place dark. He said I'd be one of those people that came off a "high" and shot myself, or cut off an ear.
Have you ever seen Sucker Punch? It is by far one of my favorite movies, because I connect to it on a personal basis. My mind distorts the present, and even my memories. People from my past will tell me stories about myself, and I can't ever remember one. I erase the bad and put in a filler, make myself a heroine. The problem isn't the bad, the problem is the worst. The worst of my memory will come up over and over. The tiniest thing triggers it. A mattress on the floor without a bed or box springs, being on stage triggers a lot of bad, but most of all, smells. Smells are the strongest sense tied to memory. Axe deodorant, and cheap cologne. I can't stand all the memories. The people.
This is why I can never concentrate, my vivid imagination.
"Don't touch me" I constantly want to tell people.
But over the past few years, I've slowly taken down some of my walls. I can hug people now, and sit closely to people whom I trust. I still get fidgety when I am heading into a big crowd, or upset when I'm not able to leave a situation I don't want to be in.
For the most part I am trying to love. It doesn't come easy for me like you see in movies or read in a Nicholas Sparks novel. I'm afraid, and assume that someone is either out to get me, or to use me. It's a scary world we live in.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

No title

My enternal organs feel heavy, They fight to keep up with my mind, Which is racing and pacing, And sending signals to my eyes On the off chance I wasn't blind. Because if I were, I'd have an excuse For running in circles And wasting my youth. It's hot and it's sticky, It's Oklahoma heat. It drives you crazy, And it makes you weak. You dust the dirt from your knee's From learning to pray But you deny He's your God The very next day. I eat and breath The anger I sow I water my future But the seeds won't grow. The pain is always welcomed At the door. But the loneliness isn't invited, There is room for no more.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Sharing is Caring

Stressful past couple of weeks, we had a new girl start at work who is already pushing everyone around, I have zero down time anymore with school and my new work schedule, and I haven't seen my boyfriend alone in the same amount of time. Everytime we try to see eachother one of  us had errands to run, homework to do, family to see, or exercising. I feel like the older i've gotten, the more I enjoy my free time, but this is making me feel pretty cranky and bummed, and I have never felt so distant from him.
I guess after four years things start to become less romantic. I guess I figure because our relationship started backwards and has been getting forward, that we would start sharing everything together. But a man's idea of sharing is hey "you buy this raft and we'll do shit I want". I feel like I try so hard to accomodate his sporty side, and I am one of the girliest girls ever. I keep waiting for it to be my turn. But the cold hard truth is if I want happiness and If I love him I have to make happiness for myself. So my gift to myself is getting back on the stage horse and auditioning for American Idol next month. I am not delusional, I don't expect to be a star...But it's nice to feel important. I grew up being the center of anything, and seeing as how highschool and my parents never prepared me for the real "no one cares about anything you do" world, it's depressing. It's like all of Scott's family and friends think he's gold, and i'm stuck in his shadow, because I gave up on everything I love.
I know I love him, and that I'm just mad right now, but LOVE IS HARD.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

My inner "bad girl".

I go to work and read children's stories and play hide and seek, then I head to school and take notes, go home do homework, and fall asleep around nine. Being so young, I still have so many child-like urges. Ever since the heat in my hometown started to stick a few weeks ago, I have been a different person. During the day I wear sweat pants and look studious at the front of the class, but at night I dream of cheap pleather, Mohawks, aSexy nd motorcycles. I look through my closet in search of a tight mini-skirt, but instead find knee length dresses and tee-shirt shirts. When did I get so boring? Don't you ever want to go downtown, and when you and your boyfriend are leaving the bar he slams you up against the brick wall of the alleyway and then it starts to pour and your clothes get all see through? I know, I live in a fantasy land. But why is it so important for me to be so prude all the time? Because of my town? Because of my religion? Because I'm almost 25 and I need to grow up? I guess I've always been such an introvert, and deathly afraid of people my own age and socializing with ANYONE, that sometimes I get a little crazy with my ideals. I wish my life was more intense, spontaneous, and sexy. But instead I have to plan everything and analyze even the shortest of dialogue. It's like a drug, summer...makes you want to be all sorts of bad. I have the potential to be a very good bad girl, and a very sweet angel. I wish I were one or the other, but I fall in the middle, and in the winter I want to wear cardigans and join bible study and in the summer I want to pull a "flash dance" and just be dancing and sweaty ALL DAY LONG. What's wrong with me?

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

My mother raised me anti-feminist

Growing up my mother taught me to never call a man, to never pay for a meal, and to be mad at the women before me who asked for rights. She is so wrong, and I'm ashamed she puts down our sex so readily.
Last week she was explaining the reason why men are becoming more and more lazy, and she said "They used to be the man of the house, and their pride is hurt, because they aren't getting enough recognition".
I'm sorry, I say "bullshit" to that! People make such a huge deal about prohibition, and integration, but no one seems to get how tough women are, and how hard we have to fight, and now we work AND raise children. I don't think most men could do that. And her theory about men loosing their pride about not being the man of the house, try a little harder?! You could try going to work, raising kids and cleaning the house at the end of the day, as a matter of fact, if a man did that he would probably get more recognition. Sad but true. I'm upset that we have to be weak and dainty to be attractive, I'm sad speaking your mind as a woman isn't attractive the way people respect and love men when they "exert power" I'm sorry I'm rambling, but I'm stuck in the middle of women's rights were I don't wear the pants in the relationship, nor do I get to stay home raise children and get everything paid for. Just working and growing to school and every paycheck is gone before I can hold it, and watching everyone around me get handed things left and right...Sometimes my bitterness is too much to bear.

Friday, May 18, 2012

Anyone want to do me a favor?


Hey blogger friends, I entered my Dad(step-dad) into a Fathers Day photo competition. Could you take the time to click on the link, and then click "Love it" under my photo of him. It's hard not to love, It's very funny!

Tuesday, May 15, 2012


When I get unhappy, I tend to get a little dangerous. Unhappiness is hard to cure, but with a rush of recklessness I feel alive and for once in my life cool. Riding on a motorcycle with the sexiest outfit I own, sitting in a dark bar sharing your life story with a complete stranger, hanging out with people who don't give a damn about their life, or my own. I guess if I can't criticize what makes others feel happy and alive, I can do my best to make myself feel alive. I'm not sure why, maybe it's the seasonal depression, or maybe I am bipolar, but in the summer I get reckless and rarely sleep, and in the early fall and winter I hibernate and fight off depression. So I guess putting my health at risk puts me in a jollier mood than being in bed all day. Plus the public seems to like me more in the summer, I'm bubbly and pretty as opposed to frumpy and pissed. So thank you mother nature for working with me a couple seasons of the year, I won't let you down!

Sunday, May 13, 2012

My boyfriend is my exhusband and my best friend

Can you believe a title like that for a blog? Imagine having to tell someone random on the streets when they ask you about your relationship status. Even worse, imagine going somewhere with him, then someone asking both of our names, then realizing we have the same name and no rings on our fingers, that we are two Oklahoma inbreds and that we are cousins or siblings. It's so funny how my life has turned out, always seem to do things the hard way. I love that we are still together, and what's funny is I don't think we should have gotten divorced, it's much more complicated...we should have never gotten married. We were too young, we barely knew each other. I can tell you when I first met him I thought he was a nerdy, shy, artist. But he is NOT nerdy, NOT shy, and leans way more to the jock side of things. If we had chosen to get married now, instead of when I was nineteen, we would be invincible. but we didn't, and that's okay, you know why? Divorce changed my life. Sure for a while there it left me bitter, but I learned to do everything on my own. I learned to balance myself, and I overcame the one thing that could sabotage me later in life...cutting.

I benefited from marriage in the equal amount that I benefited from divorce. It's good to be alone, figure out who you are and what you really want. Figure out who to trust, who to love, who to confide in. Scott (my ex husband, boyfriend, lover, best friend) has the unfortunate task of teaching me all the things I was never taught growing up. I consider him a well adjusted human being, and I hold that against him a lot. Partly because I don't think it's fair, and part jealousy that his family all actually like each other. This morning he helped me make quiche for mothers day(I'm a disaster in the kitchen), and I put eggs, milk and the spices all together into a bowl, and then tried to mix it. He looked at me and smiled "Did you forget to mix the eggs?"

"Ummm, yeah" I said. But in reality, I didn't know I was doing anything wrong. See I taught myself everything growing up, and always assumed I had just been correct. Turns out, I'm very rarely right, unless it comes to what a particular word means. It's frustrating. How come HE got to be raised right? How come he got to learn how to cook, and how to survive, and how to make friends. I SUCK at all of that. When I'm around him I try to find good things about myself, and it's hard. It's not his fault he's perfect, it's my fault I didn't do better raising myself I suppose. I could have made girl friends when I was younger, maybe they could have taught me how to cook, or put on eye liner, or where babies came from.

I honestly try so hard not to be bitter, but it seems like I fail at everything I try. Except showing up to every event/function/work thirty minutes early. But that's not really doing something right, it's more a compulsion. I've got a lot of those. One day I'll be important, and hopefully have friends. Until then I got to "just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming"

Friday, May 11, 2012

Light Painting photography

My friend Stephanie asked if I wanted to play last night. We did some water colors, then we did some photo's. Here are my favorites.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

"I hope you don't mind"

A lot of times our hearts are out of sync, yours tends to beat fast, and mine runs off machines. Then there are the rare times when my heart sings, yours listens, and when yours is tired, mine beats for it. It's beautiful. Our hearts do a better job of telling our  love story than we ever could. I'm too negative for narrative, and you're too crass for poetry, but we try to make up new kindnesses. Not bouquets, or candle lit dinner. Love is quieter than that. Love is a whisper, a secret you so desperately want to tell. It sits on the tip of your lips and outlasts the day until you can meet him again.

My heart is strong. It desires, and wants, and feels everything so intensely. When love is stripped from it, there is nothing else to dream of, nothing left for hope.

But it's only out of sync briefly. A few skips of the heart hasn't killed me thus far, nor you for that matter. A skip of the heart reminds us what it would be like if we didn't have each other to live for. First there is denial, then pain, then finally, you panic before you go cold. There has been a few times I thought resuscitation wouldn't come, and that we couldn't be saved. But you have a good pair of lungs, and I have the fight to survive.

It sounds terrifying, and sometimes it is. I don't claim to be a good lover, girlfriend, or wife, but I try. Trying and hoping is all the future could ask for. You know we'll be okay. I know little of hope, but your happiness helps me. It's a good life source for a steady beat. I never had a common love story.

I never had a common anything, and that's wonderful. I love you,

I love your love.

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Post traumatic

So I did the entire week of just fruits and veggies, which prepared me for the Master cleanse fast. I didn't do this to loose the weight, but to get rid of the toxins that remain dormant for up to ten years. My sister is in her second round of cancer, and even her doctor said it would be a good idea for her. I know I just said I wasn't in it to loose the weight, but I have to admit, being 5lbs lighter makes me feel stronger, faster, prettier. I would've been happy with ten pounds, even though that wouldn't be healthy. I have the perfect BMI for my age and height, I need to stop judging myself. It's not good.

If you have ever considered doing a fast, I reccomend it. And not for the weight loss, and not even for the whole "removing toxins", but for learning self-control. I didn't realize I ate unhealthy until I was on the fast and recalling all the crazy things I eat in one week. It was disappointing. I have to tell you though, I was on the brink of depression while doing this fast. It turns out, if you take the food out of your life, there isn't a lot to look forward to. I'm not sure there is a whole lot of anything to look forward to normally though. But that could just be "Sunday Shannon" talking. I call my blog "40% chance of Shannon" because I never know if I will be me today. Within minutes I can let my thoughts take over, and then Shannon is as good as dead. My thoughts lead me to my past, and my past is a battlefield. Once I go there, it's hard to see past the bullets, and debri.

Sunday Shannon seems to go there more than any other day of the week. Which is strange, I like my job, and mondays are usually really good days. But Sundays feel...lonely. They feel foriegn or like an assasin, they creep up on me in a layer of black. I think what makes Sundays so bad, is that I have no one to pretend to. I am alone most of the day, and I know it sounds sad, but sometimes I need someone around so I can pretend to be happy. Usually after a few minutes of pretending, I lay down the gun of my past and step back into the present.

Can you have post traumatic stress forever? Like when things that you can't speak of happen to you, do they ever leave?

I recreate desicions in my mind, I dig up the past with a rusty shovel. Each time I bring it up and take myself there, I try to manipulate my memories and my past. It never works. My memories are stronger than I am. I try to tell myself that If I had just been a good person, nothing bad would have ever happened to me. I try to tell myself, that if my mother had not been a bad person that I wouldn't have had that same fate in store. Like she can not repay all of her sins, so the reaper put the load on my shoulders so that I would suffer in turn making her heart break for my trails. Well, I wasn't born into that type of family, her heart does not break when mine breaks. As a matter of fact, everytime I show weakness, it seems to make her even stronger. It seems to make my past stronger as well. So I can't show weakness, I must remain numb to my feelings.

I should have taken medication when all of these things happened to me. I don't advocate drugs, but if I had them, I wouldn't constantly feel so weighed down with pain. Pain is heavier than a elephant, but makes your body as frail and light as a feather. It'll get better tomorrow, I just have to make it through this day. The little engine that...could

Sunday, April 29, 2012

Children in Africa don't want your evil shoes, mom...

If you've read my past posts, you know that my parents home was hit by a tornado.  In the two weeks since, I have heard my mom complain about the carpet, the windows, the tree's, the prices, and the INSURANCE company. She has cried a sob story to her boss getting $500 dollars, she cried a sob story to my grandparents getting $1,000(a month after she took their Ipad and claimed it for hers) and then she gets a phone call from our old pastors wife and I hear her say "Oh everyone is fine, the house is damaged, but that's not what matters, I'm just so blessed that Shannon and Richard were okay". WHAT? I was bawling my eyes out, and scared to death, she didn't care, because as soon as she pulled in she was on the phone with the insurance company! So our old pastor also gave her $500 for the house.

So this week after she got all that money from all these people we start getting packages in the mail from Amazon, from clothes stores, and my favorite, her brand new pair of TOMS. If I were barefoot in a foreign country, and I received a pair of shoes because some upper middle class white American I might be a little depressed. Maybe that's the wrong way to put it, but I just want to find the child that my mom's pair of shoes are going to and say "Let me buy you a real pair of shoes, this pair was made on lies and thievery".  It makes me sad. But don't get me wrong, I love Toms, and I wish I had more money, I would buy another pair, but I don't like my mom using other peoples sympathy money for her shopping spree's.

The insurance people called her back and told her she would only get half of the insurance money, and that once they saw the repairs being made, they would give her the rest. They don't think she will use the money for repairs. Wow, these insurance people are intuitive! I love it. So of course, my mother is furious and I think it's funny. I would love a home to take pride in and not destroy, I would love an Ipad for more than to just play zombie farm, and I would love to guilt all the people around me out of money.

Last fall my car died, and you know what happened? My boss felt sorry for me, and wanted to make sure I could get to school and work, so they were going to buy me a car, or pay for my down payment. Did I except that HUGE gift and favor like my mom would have jumped on? No I thanked her and said it was something I needed to do on my own. And it was. The car I bought, I did it on my own, no one helped, and I make my payments on my own, and the car is mine. No one has helped me pay for school, or books.

Maybe I'm jealous that my mom is so good at seducing money out of people? Or maybe I'm genuinely mad that she is using the money to buy hideous designer purses that won't make her happy, but just make her feel more empty, and want MORE and MORE. I want, I always want. But I want within reason, and if I want something bigger than that I save for a few months.

Friday, April 27, 2012


Have you ever seen the movie or play? Well this post has nothing to do with that play, BUT it coincides with my main point. Doubt is a very dangerous feeling, it can be irrational, or even worse, doubt can be rational. Every one doubts, they doubt their thoughts, they doubt their plans, their jobs, their relationships, their government, or for me a lot, my own family.
Because of what I have learned about the nature of people in the past 24 years, I doubt everything. I mostly just assume everything that I'm being told about everything is a lie. And I would be a stronger person if I just went with all my instincts, but I'm also gullible. I tend to buy it when men tell me I'm the most "amazing woman" they have ever met. I can't be this to all men. SOMEONE is lying to take advantage, but who? It's much like I have found that men also tend to say "I've never lost a fight"?! Wait, am I to believe no man in the United States has ever lost a fight? Hahaha, cute.
Isn't life just all a "series of unfortunate events". Do we let some doubt slide weather it be true? Does that make me weak? Or maybe it makes me strong? I wish we were all aloud to just speak the truth to each other all the time. Yes everyone would argue more, but aren't secrets the death of intimacy? In family, and friendship, and in marriage. I'm no expert, I'm not married, but I know I'm not very good at friendship or family either. I'm better at family than friendship. I have no tolerance for women, and I cannot be friends with men, because the men you love tend to not like it. So I write, and no one reads, and I feel just as damn empty as I did before.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

THE DIET: mind over food

I'm on a pre-diet diet, stupid right? Anyway the diet before my real diet is the one I hate, It's strictly fruits vegetables or soups. The whole point is for an easy transition to three days of liquid. As a side note, I'm not dieting to loose weight or because I think I'm ugly. This week is about control, and focus. Can I watch everyone around me eat pastries, pizza, macaroni, taco's. It's only day two and I already miss cheese. Screw the meat and the pasta, BUT THROW ME SOME DAIRY. God I love dairy foods. Except drinking milk directly, that's gross. I thought when I was buying groceries for this Satan diet that I wouldn't want soup, because it is already 80 degree's in Oklahoma, but if I have to see one more flipping salad, I might stab someone with a fork.

I can see how cannibalism works.

I mean think about it, you already know all of you can't survive, and I am only on day two without meats, and I'm thinking to myself. "How bad could a person really taste?" Some cultures still practice cannibalism. You know they eat your heart to embody your soul. Man wasn't meant to live without bread. I mean if you've read the bible you know it's bread this and wine that. Well where is my filling bread? I could live on bread easier than fruits and vegetables. I'm not sure how I went from cannibals to the bible, maybe it's because dieting makes a person mentally insane, no joke. I had no idea that food had this kind of hold on me! It's rather depressing to see myself sitting around and thinking about foods, I mean shouldn't I be studying government, and not counting down the seconds until I can make a bowl of macaroni and cheese? I don't know if I have five more days of this in me, and If I do, I should get a medal of bravery.

All the things I wanted to eat today and didn't: popcorn, macaroni, bacon, taquito's, yogurt melts, extra sharp cheddar, chai tea latte, CHIC-FA-Le, chili, and spanikopita. AHHHHHhhhhhh!

Why men need the church and military

Simple answer, they grow up and see the truly important things in life. typical young men are still infused with this need to have sex with everything in motion, and OFTEN. They also take little value into their future and the need to settle down and grow up. They are so en grained with trying to prove that they are still as sexy, cool, athletic as they were in high school. They are unconcerned with compassion, labor, or giving more than receiving. Boys try to embody the men they grew to love, like football stars, or handsome uncles, when in reality, they need to become their own man and pave their own path. Making your own way is the most exciting part of growing up. The beauty of the United States is you CAN be whatever you want to be. That is a beautiful thing once it is seen. Instead of proving yourself to your guy friends, why don't you look bigger to the world?
But whatever it is that the military or religious establishments do to their men...It is good. They come back with a tremendous amount of respect for everything in their path. Respect for life, Respect for love, Respect for work, everything. I imagine church and the military have a lot in common, I imagine one thing you learn in both places, is humility. Being humble calms a man down quite a bit. Another thing is guilt. People who feel guilt and remorse for past mistakes are more likely to try to do better and be a better person, if you have no regrets and no guilt it is possible you are doomed to repeat the same mistakes. .....my rant of the day.

Sunday, April 22, 2012

2012 Election

I'm from Oklahoma, oh you know, the state that chose Santorum in the primaries, because he was white and religious. I can't tell you how many times I've talked to people in the past couple of weeks that have told me "I voted for ____ because he said I wouldn't pay taxes" "I voted for ____ because my best friend is voting for him, and she is very smart and earth friendly", or perhaps the worst "I voted for ___ because he goes to the same denomination of church that I attend". Listen people, they are all going to say they believe in God, even if they don't, also believing in God doesn't mean you are a good person, And lastly they all are ESPECIALLY going to tell you that they will lower taxes and get YOU more money. I'm not trying to pretend I know half of what politicians are about, and I'm not telling you how to vote, but please just do research, and if you don't want to don't vote. Ignorant voters could land us with the wrong president. Obama got all the minority votes, because Obama's father is Arabic Kenyan and his mother is white. The minorities where tired of voting for rich white dudes(and who isn't). Although I'm not a fan of old white men that make a ton of money and have probably never done a second of manual labor in their lives, voting for Obama simply because you think he is "black" or "young" or "attractive" is also ignorant.

I should take back that all old white presidents don't know how to work. A lot served in the army, and had jobs, and a few even struggled. Not saying I'm a Romney fan, but he went to do his 30 months mission work as a rite of passage is the Mormon community( looks like he'll get the Mormon vote, because he is Mormon). Obama also had a lot of struggles in his youth with the divorce of his parents, and then later loosing his father in an automobile accident and his mother to cancer, so he's known a different type of struggle. I guess I'm waiting for the stories of working in a factory twelve hours a day for minimum wage, struggling to put food on the table. I go into work tomorrow and work ten and a half hours straight with a bunch of spoiled, rich children, and I guess it would provide more comfort to know that I had someone in office that knows where I am coming from.

When I was in high school, my mother sent me to a therapist for a while to talk about my cutting, and my loosing weight. When I was depressed I wouldn't eat, and when I first met my therapist, she was in her late twenties and obese. I didn't see the point in talking to her, because simply reading a book that talks about cutting and eating disorders, does not qualify you to understand the way I felt when I was cutting, or how beautiful I felt the longer I went without food. Telling me to discontinue my use of metal music was not going to take away how good my addictions felt.

Isn't that what we want as a society, for someone in charge to say "listen, I've been there, I'm here to help and to promise you that life will get better and easier for you"? It's discouraging to hear of their incomes and how our current president spends more time on vacation or "teeing off" than in the white house. http://nation.foxnews.com/sean-hannity/2012/04/18/real-obama-gone-golfin is a good link to look at if you aren't well informed on the leisure activities of our president. And if you are looking for dirt on Mitt Romney, just type his name in on google lol.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

I gotta feeling

How much time should you spend on you? How much time on your family? How much time at work, and how much with the person you love? It's storming here, and over the past couple of weeks, I can't shake this lonely feeling. It's not something a beer could fix. It's not something a shopping spree could fix, because being pretty makes me feel more alone most of the time.

WHAT do I need DAMMIT!

What is wrong with me? Shouldn't I feel happy? I'm doing well in school, I have a job, I am healthy, and I have a roof over my head(damaged from the tornado, but a roof at that). I should be perfect. Why can't I shake this uneasy feeling that something is wrong? That something just isn't whole? Have I always felt this way, and it's just masked by cheap shoes and even cheaper thrills?

What keeps people so comfortable in life? Does everyone just fake happiness, or am I really the only one?

TIME...what a jerk. It comes, and it goes. It takes your beautiful memories, and replaces them with the bad memories you want so badly to forget. It takes you beautiful skin, and pulls a "hellraiser" act on it throughout time. It takes the one's you love, and it takes your breath away. I should be living it up! Have you ever watched a movie with people in their mid-twenties? Their skin glows, they are all tan and laughing, and on a beach somewhere making love. Granted, they usually die thereafter, but that's not the point.  The point is, either I'm a boring, old asshole, or the stinking news media, and movies need to stop portraying the "youth" as youth, because I DO NOT feel young, and I'm sick and tired of older people telling me that I'm so lucky and that this is the best time of my life...It isn't.

Then there was one.

He had to watch me kill myself several times a month. I obviously never succeeded, but the struggle he had to go through for years, just trying to keep my head above water and keep himself afloat as well, is excruciating to think about now. Having someone you love tell you that they refuse to live, I can't imagine that heartache. He would've stayed there and done that for the rest of his life, if I had let him. I know what cruel is like, because I used to be cruel. Much like an insecure man goes on to become to become a cop and make every one's life miserable, I had to pick the sweetest man in the world to ruin his life.
Since then I have vowed to be nice, and to not date anyone too nice.
I don't know if I really am nicer. But now I am free from all addiction, and I take care of myself now. I actually feel uncomfortable when people try to do things for me now...Guilt, it moves me.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Our Tornado

We were safe last night, which my step dad said since we were already hit, we wouldn't be hit again. At least not this year. I know everywhere you go has the potential for natural disasters, but wind that picks up cars, tree's, and houses and throws that stuff over miles? That's insane. I know it's just stuff, but most people can't just buy stuff. It's like you save all your life to get these things and a tornado takes it away in less than 60 seconds. I bet moore, Oklahoma is glad that it wasn't them for once. When they get tornado's it destroys the whole town! Our's just got a mile radius, I just happened to be unlucky enough to be in that radius. I'm still grateful no one is hurt, but what's left of the house makes me feel sad. Looking at the tree in the front yard that I climbed on as a child, my grandpa built that house! Depressing, no one in Norman slept last night, I checked Facebook on my phone and all my friends and family said they were up watching the weather until four a.m. I think our town is safe for the rest of the weekend.
If you missed the pictures, they are in blogs below.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Still worried about more tornado's

I just keep seeing peoples belongings all over yards, power-lines blocking roads, people scrambling. Our empty house covered with glass and water. Me screaming at the top of my lungs. I don't think I can do that again tonight. We have candles and water in case of another emergency. But nothing makes me more upset than people and news coming to our street to take pictures and video's of our house and the damage on the street. I don't come to other peoples houses and take pictures after a natural disaster, please don't come to mine, it's rude and it feels like no one else got damage or lost anything, so stop picking on our street. My sister showed up in the aftermath, and it was like a scene from a war movie, we ran into each others open arms and we were sobbing in each others arms. The only thing I can seem to feel is strange. Like it was a dream, like you never feel like something bad will happen to you, it really puts life into perspective:/

House hit by a tornado yesterday...

I am grateful it turned out the way it did, because if I had been home my car would've crushed by the tree that feel in our yard and blocking our entire street. The windows in the house blew out, like someone threw a bomb at the house. The fence is down and the sky was pitch black. Have you ever been so scared you almost threw up? I have. I'm still scared. The house is in shambles. I went screaming through the house calling for my step-dad. I just didn't want to be alone, I wanted to cry, but I didn't know if there were more storms to come. They say tonight in Norman will be worse, so keep Norman, Oklahoma in your thoughts please.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

People who are crazy tell everyone they AREN'T crazy

I wonder more often than not about women's hormones. About my feelings. I go through ups and downs quite a bit, and sometimes I wonder "are these thoughts and feeling real? Or are they lies that I am feeding myself to sabotage all that I have that is good?" I would love for my downs to just be lies and nothing more, but how can they be? How is it possible to lie to yourself? Shouldn't I be aloud to question everything? Shouldn't I be aloud to say "I feel sad" or "I feel confused"? Because I do feel those things, quite a bit. But more than any other feeling I get in life, I feel unsatisfied. I know that's a common feeling, but it eats away at me. I can never be too thin, never be too loved, never be too happy. I feel so unsatisfied, that I worry there will never be anything to make me feel whole.
When I felt this way as a child, I would cut myself.
I'm not a child. I can't do selfish crys for help anymore. Or any cry for help. Being an adult means not asking for help. It means you don't burden society with your problems and pathetic feelings. The world has no time for sadness or wanting. It slows down productivity. I search for things that get me "high",but nothing compared to cutting. I never did drugs when I was younger, and alcohol is okay, but never really needed it. I can only image that drugs feel the same as cutting. That it's something you're proud you don't do anymore, but you would give your left arm to feel that rush again (no pun intended). I look at the scars I've collected over the years, and I am sad I no longer have such perfect skin as I did before depression hit. All of the scars on my body are self inflicted with the exception of two. One on my back from falling off a horse, and the other under my chin from before I can remember. The rest, those are mine...those were a choice. And each scar was intended for someone in particular. The scissor marks on my right and left wrists that you would have to squint to see now, those where for my mother. The two on my upper right forearm, those were for "old times sake". The rest all had private destinations for people and feelings.
Right now, my feelings are borderline crazy. It's partially hormones because being a woman, means to be a little crazy; but the other half is that I am coming off of a high that I was on yesterday. Me high? No. Me, cut myself? Yes, well unintentionally. I was carrying a bookshelf by myself when it split into. The half I was still holding, with the force of me pushing up, went into my hand, into an artery and splattered blood everywhere. I told everyone I knew that I was in pain. Honestly I wasn't in pain, I was reliving that adrenaline rush that I have tried to duplicate with punching, exercise, or sexuality. For a few minutes I was panicked about all the blood, but once I figured that I didn't need the hospital or stitches, I was fine. I was great. The high lasted three, to four hours. But like all good feelings I came off of it, and I feel as I do right now. Empty. Sad. Needy.
There must be something I can do that doesn't involve a loss of blood. Eating blow fish? Hunting? I've tried to replicate it, and it just ends up frustrating me. The best thing I can do when I feel this way is sleep. When I sleep there is a sixty/forty chance that I'll wake up happy. Those are good odds when you are having an internal battle.
The battle within is much like a battle you'd see on a movie or video game. Someone wants someone to die, and someone would like to live. Well I would like to live, but part of me just wants to rip me to shreds. This is messed up right? Help me out here, If I'm not alone, I would love to know.
It seems like everyone I tell my feelings to, they nod blankly as if to say they are scared, or that I am being a baby and I need to take control of my thoughts. Thanks guys, love that support.
I'm dizzy in my thoughts, and I can't type as fast as I am thinking the words in my head. Am I rambling? Maybe If I say everything that I feel, I'll have nothing to feel sad about, and I'll be happy? That's not something I have ever tried.
I don't feel comfortable telling friends and loved ones that I think I may be crazy, and I don't think they like to hear anything that isn't smiles and giggles. And damn am I good at smiles and giggles! It's how I got through high school. It's how I broke so many good hearts. Maybe if I had just been comfortable to be more like me, and less like perfect barbie, I might have been happy. I might have hurt less people. I might have told some guys I dated that I didn't know why I dated them, that I didn't like them. I remember I didn't want to date Nathan, I just felt sorry for him, and Matt Hecox I dated him because I wanted to see what the popular crowd was like. I dated Richard because he wasn't in high school, and that was much better than being in high school. I dated Tres for real. He is a lot like me, an asshole, book snob, antisocial, rude. If I spent less time dating and worrying about how all these men saw me, maybe I would find myself beautiful.
I wonder what went wrong with me. and when?
Was there a moment I could go back to? My first kiss when I was in middle school? The first time I cut just a few months after? My first date in high school?
"If I find my way, how much will I find?"

Fighting between want and need

Is it wrong to wish other people weren't having fun, because you aren't having fun? I get told the same thing all the time. "Well, then why don't you come?" Because all the things I like to do are expensive, like indoor climbing, sky diving, survival classes, arcades, art classes. I don't like free sports like tossing a Frisbee or kicking a ball. I'd rather be reading or listening to music. I do have a lot of interest in being with a book club,HA, that's free. That's what I'm into. That's what makes my heart skip a beat. Artsy stuff. A pottery class, wine tasting, cooking class?! UGH why did I have to be born poor?! I would be great sitting in a huge yellow room, in a big white house, drinking tea and discussing the lower class citizens of our town.
Okay, maybe that's the wrong era, and so what if I'm one of the lower class citizens I wish I could be gossiping about over tea. I could do it. I could spend all day shopping for dresses and looking for the perfect hat to go with each of them. You don't believe me? Go look at my amazon wish list on my page, I promise you there is a big beautiful tea hat somewhere on page one. I say screw the jewels, and the thousand dollar shoes. But oh dear God, please give me dresses, and blouses, with ribbons, and hats, and stockings, and lace, all tied together with a neat bow.
"Excuse me, Charlotte" I can almost hear me calling to the maid. "The crystal has a smidgen of dust on it" Then of course Charlotte would roll her eyes, and bad mouth me with the other servants, and at the end of the story I would die, end up poor, or in jail. I've read enough fairy tales to know that the rich don't last, and the poor young women end up princesses or with a castle or manor.
I've come of age, I'm poor, I look like I could possibly be a princess turned away from love, so where are my riches? Psh, fairy tales, they are always bullshitting us. The truth is, the rich live forever in their comfy homes, while the poor struggle daily. But I honestly don't know where I would be without struggle? Struggle is who I am. It defines me. I struggle to get out of bed, I struggle to be a normal human being, I struggle to go out into the world and attempt socialization, without all that I'm nothing. I'm just like them. Do I want to be ungrateful? No, I guess not.
I guess it would be sad to loose the thrill of finding a beautiful skirt for 75% off, or going to the dollar store and realize you never want to pay more than a dollar for anything ever again. That's happiness at the tip of my fingers. But I am a woman, and I will always dream of shopping spree's in New York City, and sailing on a ship in a foreign country. I want to travel, I want to see the world, I want to experience anything and everything. I want, I want, I want...
Don't you know that wanting costs money?

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

An old poem from fall, I love this one.

You check your pulse,
just to make sure
that that spider you saw wasn't the cure.

You drank your dinner
in a bar full of beauty,
and slipped your way out of all your duties.

Your heart called,
and said it was a lie
but it had assumed you had already died.

Your writing is good when you are dead,
your writing is good says the thoughts in your head.

Old Poem(Sorry it's so sad)

I see the black,
don't worry it's hair dye.
I see your face
I worry that it lies.
I can't see the future,
I wonder why?

No I don't really wonder,
It's because I die.
I die to escape,
to escape this world.
I write to do both,
I think to the curb.

I need an appetite to grow and learn,
I need some love, it's never my turn.

In the end we are all just as bitter,
It's not remembering, or love, or glitter.
I wish it were my time to speak,
but until then I'm just suicidally weak.

Old poem: My least favorite

I take into account my favorite assets,

in case I end up in numerous caskets.

I try to be grateful for my ribs, and my nose

my height and my face and the polish I chose.

I try to think heavenly, but I'm tired of tests

It's like he's poking fun at all of my bests.

and by bests I mean efforts, I only have so many

he acts though I'm worthless, a gutter found penny.

If I had a voice,

If I had a say,

NO ONE would ever make me feel this way.

But feeling so much,

and having nothing to touch,

isn't that why we all hurt so much?

The rhyming is pure OCD,

but the anger and sadness is as real as can be.

You won't ever know the real me that walks,

because the fake me is the one who talks the talk.

I hope I can leave some faith,

that good is good, and fake is just fake.

I don't pretend to know what I'm here for,

or to wish to do anything more...

Than ask you to speak,

to any who will listen.

To make strangers hope,

to make children glisten.

We are a world full of lonely people,

be someones door, their pew, their steeple.