Blog post one

My Brain is a Popcorn Machine (and You’re All Invited to the Show

Hey there, internet wanderers! So, you’ve stumbled upon my little corner of the digital world. Welcome! Grab a virtual beverage, pull up a comfy nonexistent chair, and prepare for… well, honestly, I’m not entirely sure what you’re preparing for. And that, my friends, is kind of the point.

See, I’ve got this little (okay, maybe not-so-little) dream brewing in my brain: to be an author. You know, the kind of person who conjures up worlds, makes characters do ridiculously dramatic things, and somehow convinces people to actually read about it. Lofty goals, I know. Especially considering my current writing mostly consists of frantic grocery lists and strongly worded emails to customer service.

But hey, everyone starts somewhere, right? And my “somewhere” is right here, with you lovely folks. Now, you might be expecting a blog solely dedicated to, say, the intricate art of sourdough baking, or perhaps a deep dive into the sociopolitical implications of competitive thumb wrestling. And to that, I say… maybe!

The thing is, my brain doesn’t really do “niche.” It’s more like a hyperactive puppy chasing every single shiny object that crosses its path. One minute I’m pondering the existential dread of mismatched socks, the next I’m crafting epic fantasy battles in my head involving sentient garden gnomes. It’s a wild ride up here, trust me.

So, what does this mean for you, dear reader? Well, buckle up! Because this blog is going to be a glorious, unpredictable mishmash of whatever happens to be tickling my fancy at any given moment. We might delve into my questionable attempts at gardening one week, dissect the latest bizarre news story the next, and then suddenly find ourselves knee-deep in a fantastical short story that popped into my head during my commute.

Think of it as a peek inside my delightfully chaotic brain. It might be a little messy, a little unexpected, and possibly contain the occasional awkward silence (metaphorically speaking, of course). But hopefully, amidst the randomness, you’ll find something that makes you chuckle, maybe even think a little, and perhaps, just perhaps, realize that you’re not the only one whose thoughts occasionally go on unexpected tangents.

So, stick around! Let’s see where this crazy writing adventure takes us. And who knows, maybe one day you’ll be able to say, “I knew them when they were just blogging about their weird shower thoughts!” Wouldn’t that be a story?

Until next time, may your own thoughts be wonderfully weird and your socks always (mostly) match.”

Blog post two

Today’s Vibe: Couch Goblin to Retirement Home Celebrity

So here I am, sitting on my couch like a slightly feral house cat—unshowered, hair doing its own interpretive dance, and laptop balanced on the edge of a throw pillow I swear is out to sabotage me.

Today’s plan? Write. Until I feel like being a functioning human. Or until the snacks run out. Whichever comes first.

At some point in this luxurious sprawl of creativity (and definitely not procrastination), I decide: It’s time to go see Blake—aka my fiancé, aka Chef Extraordinaire, aka the man who somehow makes retirement home cuisine look like it came out of a five-star kitchen.

Now, let’s talk about this place. It’s not your average retirement home. Oh no. It’s like the Ritz Carlton for people who know what “a good pinot” means and lived through at least three wars with sass and style. The first day I strolled in, it was Happy Hour—which, let’s be honest, is the only hour that matters—and I came in hot.

Like, Leo-energy hot.

Not the self-absorbed kind, no. I came in like a full-on glitter bomb of chaotic joy. No one said anything at first. Just silent blinking. Processing. Probably wondering, “Who let this tornado in?” But then… they loved me.

Blake said they treat me like I’m some kind of celebrity. And honestly? He’s not wrong. One of the residents calls me “Sunshine in a shot glass.” Another offered to adopt me. (I said yes. Obviously. I want the inheritance.)

I laughed so hard at one of their jokes, someone brought me a soda.Someone else started singing “Sweet Caroline ,” and I clapped and danced to the music.There was absolutely no reason I belonged there, and yet, I did.

Then it happened.

They offered me a job.

Like, an actual job. I think? I’m still not sure if it was a formal offer or a hallucination brought on by cheese cubes and joy, but whatever. I’m taking it. I don’t care if they make me the Chief of Vibes or the Official Sparkle Consultant—I was born for this.

So yes, to answer your question: I am a couch goblin turned senior living celebrity. And I am considering putting that on a business card.

Life is weird. And wonderful. And a little fizzy.

Blog post three

Well hello, my chaotic little corner of the internet.

Yes, I’ve been MIA from our regularly scheduled sitcom of a life update. No, it’s not because I’ve finally run off to join a cult or started a crime ring (though, let’s be real, either would be more organized than my current situation).

Life’s just been… a lot. And not in the “hot girl messy” kind of way. More like the “why am I crying on the bathroom floor again?” kind of way.

Here’s the truth: I’ve been really sick. And not just cough-cough, drink-some-tea sick. I’m talking full-on, can’t-get-out-of-bed, anxiety-clawing-at-my-throat, soul-drained depression levels of unwell. And the kicker? It’s all thanks to birth control.

Yeah. That tiny little hormone-packed pill that’s supposed to “regulate” and “stabilize” has had me spiraling like a glitching NPC in a Sims game. My brain? Fried. My body? Wrecked. My emotions? Unhinged.

And let’s just talk about women’s healthcare for a second. Or scream about it. Because I’m so tired of the medical gaslighting. I’m tired of being told, “that’s normal” when I feel like I’m literally losing my mind. I’m tired of the lack of real research, real options, and real empathy. We deserve better than “have you tried a different brand?” when we say we’re drowning.

Women’s healthcare is a damn mess. And we’ve been expected to just grin and bear it for far too long. Spoiler alert: I’m not grinning. I’m rage-laughing through the tears.

So, if you’ve been wondering where I’ve been—just know I’ve been surviving. Barely. But still here.

And if you’re also screaming into the void about birth control, hormones, or the absolute disaster that is being a woman in the medical system—pull up a chair. You’re safe here.

xo,

Shannon

(aka your local hormone hostage)

Blog post four

Who has ever had the feelings of wanting to move? The never ending struggle of feeling like the place you’re living is too small,too many issues and more. Why is it when the desire to move it just isn’t in the cards yet ? Why can’t it happen when you desire it?! If only things happened like that! But until then I will wait till the cards fall into my hand and everything is in place. I’m hopeful of the future and everything will work out.