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.

Anyone want to do me a favor?

https://apps.facebook.com/contestsapps/showentry/Dads-Got-Talent-Contest/13206?fbpage_id=5942794395

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!

Reckless

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!

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"

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.

"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.

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