I'm such a freakin' delight, going around ruining otherwise lovely photos of Shannon and Jason.

So, what happened.

Last night, Sean and I got into an enormous fight, the details of which I won't go into, but I thought it was going to be "it". It cultivated into him leaving and me going out of my mind, so I called my mom to talk. She asked how I was, and I told her that it was shitty and I needed to talk. She informed me she was just about to eat dinner and said goodbye. Fight went out, we made up.

Today, Sean, Jason, Shannon and I went to my dad's for dinner. It was, as usual, forced, fake and awkward, as those people (Dad and his new family of retards) wouldn't have anything to do with my sister and I (and actually didn't) if Shannon hadn't had Calli. An hour in, it was announced that Dad would paying the living expenses for his stepson of like, five years, who is maybe going to a college he hasn't even being accepted into, and buying him a condo. Thus, I needed a smoke so went outside with Shannon. This was after my sister received a card and gifts from a grandmother who I haven't heard from in years.

In the truck outside, Shannon told me she's pissed at our mother because after I had that brief "conversation" with her, she called Shannon. Mom asked if Shannon knew why I had called, so Shannon gave her the Cliff's notes of what occurred. My mother then told Shannon that it was "my own fault" for moving so quickly and firmly informed Shannon to not allow me to stay at her house. Being that my mother is absentee (and kind of a total cunt), Shannon was pissed and told Jason "you know if Ashley needs a place to stay, she's coming to our house", to which Jason replied "of course."

It was all too much. I asked Shannon to go inside, tell Sean to grab my purse because I was leaving. I was on the verge of bawling and couldn't take anymore "let's pretend we're a family". Sean came out and I drove us a while before I started to bawl and relinquished the wheel to Sean. My poor helpless husband grew increasingly frustrated about the way my family was behaving, and said he wanted to "have a talk" with my dad.

What do I want? Not to see my parents anymore. Sean said that I would regret it, that people usually do, you can't choose your family, etc. Maybe I can't choose them, but I can choose to not have anything to do with them. I just can't keep feeling like a burden, a disappointment, a "we couldn't choose our daughter". The only good thing those two have done is give me a sister who is my family and acts like it. Sean's family has made me feel more welcome and cared for than mine has in the past ten years, and they've never even met me.

So it looks like I can choose my family, and it does not include Leslie Stevens, Jeff Stevens, or their sparkly new families.

So, stuff has happened, but most of it has been bad, which hasn't left me much to write about without sounding like a bellyacher. But absenteeism isn't acceptable to some.

As I've mentioned before, I got married on the first. Sean's family (including some that he hasn't talked to in years) sent cards and gifts (read: money) "for the newlyweds" (the thank you cards are in the mail). My parents? My father told me "when he's invited to a wedding, he'll give us a wedding present." Fair play.

Worse, my mother. She asked what we wanted, I told her that our house was stocked, but our bank accounts were not, and all we needed was money. "Okay," she replies.

A month ago.

About a week ago, I was at my mom's house and she moans that she can't get us anything just yet because "she can't move". Unfortunately, she's been going to parties, and has a trip to Edmonton (three hours away) planned for next week, and really has no excuse. That's why I'd just given up on receiving anything from her, either.

To add insult to injury, though, when I was most recently at my mom's with Shannon, the subject of Shannon's wedding came up. Her fiance has said that the wedding won't happen if his best friend from Ontario can't attend. Immediately, my mom gauchely announces "well, if that's the case I'll fly him here for a wedding present." No more talking from Ashley.

I've pretty much written my mother off as a selfish fuck.

As an aside, let me mention that my parents wouldn't even both go to the hospital when Shannon went into labor. Do I want to even try to invite them both to a small civil wedding ceremony?

Nay.

Now, my father also doesn't intend on getting me a wedding gift, but there's far worse from him and that is he married a bitch.

Last time I went to my father's for dinner, steak was served. It should be known that I like my steak rare, very rare. From the second I walk in the door, my dad's wife Carla is going on about how she's dreading "watching me eat that" because according to her, I'll be talking during my meal. The evening progresses with intermittent mockery of my meat choices until finally it's zero hour and my meat is bleeding on my plate. Carla is truly losing her shit now, incessantly going on about how much it disturbs her. Finally, I tell her, "Carla, you have no idea how badly I want to ruin your meal right now" and Sean and Jason break into a line of questioning regarding the possibility of Carla owning bovine as a pet. She decided then that she would eat outside on the deck, and my dad will join her. So, it's Sean and myself, Jason and Shannon and Carla's son Mitchell inside and our wonderful hosts outside. I wonder the whole time if this is how they treat all their guests.

My father has been absent for years. He's only reemerged since Shannon got knocked up. After some months of Carla's ham-fisted insults of my mother and myself, I'm aware that my presence is only perfunctory. It would just be rude to invite Shannon (she of the grandchild) and leave me out, and if there's only thing my dad isn't, it's blatantly rude.

I'm done with my parents and their systematic destruction of my self esteem.

I'm still looking for a job, though my desire to keep attending these interviews is ebbing drastically. I have no idea who the Hell is applying for every job I apply for, but for whatever reason, I can not get a job. Cold Lake has recently discovered foreign labor and they are completely gung ho, in spite of the fact that there is some heavy duty unemployment in the area, since a lot of oil rigs went belly up. My last interview was extra awesome since the man I was interviewing with informed me many times how much he hates hiring Canadians "because they're lazy, and the Natives are even worse". He told me that he plans on refiling an LMO (labor market opinion - basically says there is no one locally to fill a position) for a Filipino woman he has working for him. It should be mentioned that this woman is as qualified as I am (he told all of her qualifications), but is not Canadian, and is therefore better. Pretty sure this is illegal?

Otherwise, I've quit smoking and thus, compounded all my insecurities regarding my parents. It's been a week (minus about 45 minutes of slipping), and I hate every second of it. My heart often feels like it's going to explode out of my chest, my anxiety is ka-powing all over the place, I cry a lot. I hate it. Apparently it gets better. Everyone who I come in contact with better hope that is the case.

So, yeah. Right now, FML.

My life has been relatively quiet these days - no cross-country moves or anything - so in order to correct these matters, the past two days have been bat. Shit. Crazy.

At around 6 PM on May 30th, I get a call from my sister's fiance Jason letting me know that Shannon has gone into labor. There was no need for me to come, as he would be keeping me updated. After a long, long night of pacing and jumping at every single sound waiting for the phone call that would beckon me to the hospital and my niece, 6:30 AM rolls around and it's time. The hospital told me that I wasn't allowed to come until visiting hours at eleven, but pfffffffttttt, like that was going to happen! So Sean and I get showered and dressed and drive over. Getting off the elevators at 7:40, my mom tells me that it just ended and they're stitching her up. Calli is tiny (less than 6 lbs), but healthy and in possession of all the required digits. Being that I have no desire to see my sister's vajay in that state, Sean and I wait outside until the gore ends. I walk into the room, and there's Shannon and Jason and my dear, perfect little lady, Calli Kathleen Bonany. She has a ton of black curly hair (thanks to Daddy) and Shannon's cute tiny nose. Of course I start bawling like a fool and hugging Shannon around her IVs. The past two days, I have smooched, cuddled, gotten over the initial terror of holding something so small, and fell head-over-heels for her. The twitch in my womb makes me wonder if my adamant "no way" toward having kids may be waffled on.

Oh yeah, and also, I got married. June 1st, Sean and I called the two JPs in town. The first wasn't available until Saturday (nuts to that guy) but the second took us at one'o'clock, that day. Sean called his master corporal to witness and put on his shiniest jeans. 1 rolls around and we're on the dock at the marina, saying our vows and swatting away ten bajillion fish flies. We bought the world's cheapest wedding bands (a grand total of $200!) and practiced saying "holy fuck, we're married."

Did I mention we didn't tell anyone but my sister and her fiance, who were supposed to witness? But then Shannon had to go ruin it with labor. Pft.

Eventually, the secret began to bore down on me, as struggling to remove my wedding ring whenever my dad's wife was in the vicinity became trying, so I (get this) sent my father a text message. I called my mom and told her, at which point she informed me that I was "schwacked" and a "crazy broad". My dad eventually called and I awkwardly informed Daddy that I'm no longer a Stevens, but a Finnegan instead. They're both "happy for me if I'm happy" and Sunday is super-fucking-awkward-dinner-day now. My mom was a little miffed she wasn't there, but felt better after I informed her of the completely informal nature of the whole thing. We'll one day have a proper wedding with rings that didn't come out of Cracker Jack's boxes, but what was important to us is done - we are married and in love. Also, I get 90% of my eyeglasses covered, which is handy because Odin ate my old ones.

I'm sure this entry makes no sense, because these two days have been exhausting, so here's something that makes all the sense in the world"

So, because I no longer wish to be a useless turd, I've been looking into schooling. Turns out that through Athabasca University, I'd be able to get my BofArts, with a concentration in psychology (which I can upgrade to a major afterward), all from the comfort of my own home. Which is good, because my own comfortable home is about 300 kilometers from any real institution. I realize it's not the most reputable school, but it's feasible and that's a nice change from "freakin' out of the question".

The only issue is that after this three years, I will have spent almost $20,000 and frankly, I don't have $20 at the moment. I'm considering speaking to my (totally loaded) father, but with him already agreeing to put his (third) wife's kid through college, who knows? This fact is a major point of contention for me for a lot of reasons. First, these aren't his kids, they're the kids of the woman he's railing (married to, whatever) and I have sprung from his very loins. I realize I might sound like a petty, selfish asshole here, but I'm really bitter that these kids are benefiting from my father's new employment situation and are receiving innumerable things that a) Shannon and I never had the opportunity to receive, and b) we could both really fucking use. For example, Shannon and her fiance don't have a car and being that they're about to have a child, they could really use one. Carla's (Dad's wife) children are both receiving a vehicle. I am fully aware that as my parents were in the military, this wasn't an option for us, and now we're "all grown up", but to see other children receive what I feel that we should be receiving, is disheartening, embittering, and all-around infuriating. I feel like my life would have been much different, had we gotten the opportunities these kids are getting, and it makes me angry.

Further complicating matters is the fact that my father completely checked out for almost five years and only recently has come back into our lives at all. And don't get me wrong - he helps us both out a lot when we need it - just not to the same extent. I almost feel like he should be making up for the past, and the materialistic part of me wants it in the form of a university education. I do like having him in my life in any context, but I am growing more and more bitter and angry every day. I don't know how to broach it without coming off a twat, but it's eating me up a little bit.

Gugh.