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I'm typing with my left hand because I'm holding the little one with my right.

New blog:

It's here.

Click to be amazed.

Follow me. I don't bite. I nibble.

When font reflects life

I hate when The Fray is right.


That's not a good feeling.


I gotta write away the wrong. Nawmean?

This all seems vague and emo, but this is a blog so what do you expect?

Today I realized I need to be bold. Really bold. Not just wear straw fedora hats and blingy watches but really bold in life. I'm going to start that... now.


It begins.

Growing- A little lovely poem for my little lovely girl

Everything is growing.
Your hands, your feet, your hair.
Everything is growing,
And now you're everywhere.
You're in air I breathe;
You're in the world I see;
You're in my thoughts while I'm awake,
And always in my dreams.
You are still my little baby,
Only 14 weeks
And yet you're growing so fast;
So fast I fear to blink.
Everything is growing,
Your arms, your legs, your toes.
As soon as I learn a new part of you,
It grows and grows and grows.
Everything is growing,
And this is only the start.
Everything is growing
Most importantly the love in my heart.


I love you. You amaze me.

Even when you poop on me.

Blog Jesus

Sup, peeps?

So... I am working on my new blog, but in the meantime I will post a few posty posts on this blog. 

First, The News:

This blog is now displayed on DelightfulBlogs.com. I'm going to go ahead and do a "WOO!" 

Just go to the "Personal Journals" and scroll down and wamblamshabamman thank you mam there I am. Make sure you like it and give it amazing ratings! 

I feel like I'm a sitting in someone else's urine on a toilet seat. 

This is my metaphor for writing on this blog. This blog is the toilet seat (a very interesting and entertaining toilet seat) and someone else's urine is my old self. Don't get me wrong. It's clear urine. The good kind. Very hydrated. It's just not mine anymore. I am a different person. So excuse me if this writing (particularly the metaphors) isn't as fresh and as clean clean as it once was. 

My new blog is going to be significantly more amazing than this one, though. It's going to actually have a design rather than just have a very sexy, beautiful picture of me on a blogger template. My new blog gives me purpose and seeks to do the same for you. Yes. My blog will give you purpose in life. It is what you have been looking for... what your life has been missing. 

So stay patient because my second coming is... coming. 

I have a new baby, a new super-sweet apartment, and a new view on living. So take my hand and let me lead you to the blog promise land.

 

Suspense

The new blog.



It's happening.


It's sexy. It's fun. It's...above average....

Where I've landed

It may be time to retire this blog.

I have changed immensely since having the little one. I am no longer the angsty douche-face that wanted to punch everyone in the neck with my fists of witty fury.

I am now a mom. No more witty fury fists. Just mom fists.... not for punching my child.... it's just a metaphor.

Actually, I just want to be me and a mom and not feel like I have to keep up with my old self or with my peers who are out doing crazy wild peer-people things like punching children. I want to prove that I have nothing to prove.

Sounds like a new blog.


Thank you all for reading my life. I dedicate this blog to tortured animals, diminishing native cultures, dying ecosystems, minorities, bloggers with inflated senses of self-importance, and other hippy liberal things that I will inevitably trade in for conservative, God-fearing, and money-focused ideals. God bless you, Fox News, and freedom fries.


Seriously, though, don't buy products tested on animals.


Unless it's cheaper and/or advertised on Oprah.



I'm so confused. Not much has changed.


Definitely a new blog. Maybe.


I'll let you know.


On this blog.


So yeah, I'll be back. This isn't a very impressive ending.....


-Katie the Blogging Lady

I'm a lot like Buddha

I'm in self- pity mode.

Stop giving me that look! No one ever lets me feel sorry for myself! It's awful being me!

Do you ever just feel like you are trying super hard to be super awesome and very much succeeding but then not one single parade is thrown in your honor. NOT ONE PARADE!

I need more gays in my life.

I really am sitting around waiting for things to change and they don't. It's like..... why don't things change without me exerting any effort? Why???

I like to think that by sitting around a lot I am doing Buddhisty things. Yeah... Buddhisty things. Buddhism. That's a hip thing to include in a blog, right? So yeah, I sit around and allow my chi and zen and feng shui to transcend my frustrations.


My point is, I am extremely good at rationalizing my life. So because I am so good at rationalizing, it is only rational that I keep doing that.


I just want attention. Why else would I have a blog?

poop

Brothahood

So I want to start a new blog. One of those fancy .com ones. Is it wrong to want to make money from my blog? Does that make me a sell-out? Honestly... I just want to be able to blog and hang out with my baby for a living.... Can a brotha do that?


I am the "brotha" in that scenario. I am in most scenarios...

Moms Gone Wild

I am topless more that I am top....full?..... topped?....untopless?

I don't wear a shirt a lot.

Is it because I am so super sexy and scandalous and down to party?

no.

It's because shirts are more problem than solution when you have a baby and are breastfeeding. She's hungry every 4.6 minutes. She spits up all up on me. She has somehow managed to trick the diapers into not functioning as diapers...they...undiaper?...and she then pees or poops all over my shirt.

So I just walk around like some tribal mother, feeding the baby and gathering wild berries.

Blog poop (I feel slightly uncomfortable with this title... but I'll manage)

I talked to my therapist today (aka myself while I'm driving) and I realized I am about 73% insane. Luckily I have a really good therapist so I feel optimistic about being able to work through this.

I got issues, yo. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person in the world that has issues so I'm definitely special. I overthink everything and stress and have serious anxiety, and you care about this because you don't have your own problems to deal with.

As happy as I am, I'm also miserable. It's only because I am constantly thinking about how my life is working and what I need to do to be better. Then, I end up not doing any of that stuff because I spend most of my day thinking about needing to do it. And watching 30 Rock.

I just had a day. You know.. just one of those days when I hated everything and everyone.. except my daughter, of course. I love my daughter. The faces she makes when she poops makes life worth living.

Let me tell you a major turning point in my life: when I felt ok with the fact that I poop. So liberating.

And yes... you do poop when you birth a baby through the vageen. I mean... I didn't.... because I don't poop....but most people do....so I hear.


Ok yes I did. Sorry about that. I had a brief relapse with the whole poop issue.

So listen, ladies. It's ok to poop.


This post is weird.


I think I'm now at 82%.

Kids and their music

This moment sums up being a mother:

I was holding my little baby precious in my arms. I was staring into her big blue eyes, and she was staring lovingly back at me- studying my face as I was smiling at her. Then there was this moment when her look changed. Her face brightened, her eyes widened, and I felt this surreal connection was happening. My smile widened and she seemed to be trying to smile back, and then she let out the longest, wettest fart-poop combo that the world has ever known. I swear it lasted 10 full seconds. Then she fell asleep.

And I loved it.


I remember the days when I would wake up at noon after spending the night before doing crazy party things (I'm such a mom now that I literally can't think of a cooler way to say "crazy party things") and then spend the day watching reality TV, going out to sushi with friends, shooting up heroin behind some abandoned building (I tried to make up for the "crazy party things" moment with that last one, and I fear I went too far in the other direction), and then cramming in a bunch of school work to turn in the next day.

That life seems so far away. My life now is so... responsible... and doesn't include any crazy party things or abandoned buildings. And yet...I like it.

Being a mom is so sappy.

I really am getting significantly more lame on a daily basis. I snap a lot more when I dance in the mall (mall dancing is less noisy than club dancing...see? lame); I am losing touch with neato slang terminology; I call people younger than me "hooligans." When you become a parent, though, you don't care about things being in style. You don't care about knowing who Joseph Bieber is. You don't care about what the homies are sayin' these days. You just care about germs, and living in suburbs away from sex offenders, and making your daughter Miss Toddler USA at the Miss Toddler USA pageant.

Priorities people.

I'm not gunna lie.... I looked up "rue the day" before I posted this because I fear I am an idiot and don't know what expressions really mean.

Well I'm officially a madre now. My daughter was born a few days late, but totally worth the wait. She is abnormally beautiful. Like... if I was a week-old girl, I would totally hate her and call her a biatch but only because I would be deeply jealous of her. Jealousy among babies runs deep.

Being a mom, even for such a short time, has already changed me so much. I am even less tolerant of bullshit from others. I really know now what is important. She is such a relief in my life. Yes... she keeps me up at all hours of the night; she destroys my nip nips on an hourly basis; she poops what appears to be old mustard; but she reminds me that things I used to stress so much about- being a "successful" artist, money, keeping up with the Kardashians, etc.- are so so very silly. Old mustard poop is more important than these things so obviously they aren't that important.

I love being a mom. Everyone should do it.

No. Really they shouldn't.

One negative personality trait I may have acquired because of her birth is my true hatred for anyone that could possibly endanger my child in any way... I'm talking the vaguest way possible... A car drove by us when we were getting out of our car and I immediately felt burning rage because that other driver could potentially be a little tired while driving and swerve and hit our parked car and hurt my daughter. I called the driver a douchlord "beepity beep" (my attempt to censor) and swore to myself that if I ever met that driver again, I would make him rue the day that he ever even got inside of car.

My hate, though, is all rooted in a strong overwhelming love for my daughter. So... it's a good thing.

So... my point is that I am very happy these days, even though the number of people I despise has increased substancially since I became a mother.



Love (hate),
Katie the Mom Lady

Happy Mother's Day!

It's Mother's Day!

I am an emotional hot mess.

And still pregnant.

I need to eat before I blog

The sooner I realize that money doesn't matter, the happier I will be.

How much more annoying and cliche can this blog get?

Don't challenge me.


I am just waiting for that turning point in my life when all the lessons I have learned, and all the wisdom I have blogged, and all the knowledge I have spit come together in a way that is conducive to real life. Yeah. I have said, "Money doesn't matter," but I sure as hell don't believe it. I have said, "Looks don't matter," but I still know the only reason I am such a successful stay-at-home pregnant writer wannabe (I want to be a writer; I actually am pregnant) is because I am so damn attractive (My sarcasm and ridiculous displays of confidence are just defense mechanisms. I don't need them because I am so perfect in every sense of the word, but I use them to make my blog more relateable.)

Today I am feeling heavy. Mainly because the baby inside my belly has to weigh at least 20 pounds at this point. I am also feeling heavy in the emotional sense, though, because.... well I am having a baby (did I mention I'm having a baby?) and that shit is real.... but also because I know big changes are about, and I feel all the past mistakes and decisions and lessons and blog musings are very present in my life now but I cannot yet put them into action. Everything is a big blob right now... a big leaky, awkward smelling, waddling blob of baby goo, and maybe when this baby thing is actually real then this blob phase will finally make sense. If not, I have gotten pretty good at squatting down to pick things up as a blob of baby goo and my glutes are pretty fantastic....so things really aren't that bad. Maybe that's the point of all this. All these life lessons culminate into amazing glutes.



I find such joy in simple moments, but somehow cannot resist making them more complicated. Today at the park I was so enjoying watching the dogs play and the poor people try to have fun without money, but soon I started putting pressure on myself to write and be productive on this "day off" (whatever that means.) Then I started worrying about if I am wasting time and life and if this baby blob will prevent me from accomplishing my goals. Then I started telling myself to shut the "f" up you crazy pregnant whore face (I'm very hard on my my whore face). Then I tried to be all Taoist and Zen and calm myself. And then I got hungry so I ate an orange and didn't know what to do with the orange peels so I put them in my shoe. Then I didn't have a shoe to wear to bring the orange peel to the trash can.

In the end, though, all my craziness allows me to blog about my craziness and spread the craziness and I can feel good about that.


The longer I am out of college, the worse my grammar and syntax and diction and all those other thingy things get.

Did I mention I am friggin pregnant?

And starving.

That explains a lot.


Goodnight, playas.

Work

I just don't get why I'm obligated to do things. I don't know how I get in situations where I have to do things. That's why I always end up hating my jobs. I always forget that is what jobs are about: doing things that you have to do and all the while hating every moment of it. I just sit and put up with dumb bullshit all day. That is what a job is to me.

Money makes me do things I am morally opposed to. I have sold credit cards to people that do not need credit cards because the job required me to do so. And I hated it. I was extremely uncomfortable. I just suppressed that discomfort, though, and that is why I will eventually lose my hair, become addited to pain killers, and find happiness in plastic surgery.

People can call me lazy because I don't like to work. But I'm not lazy. I'm just too arrogant to accept that I have to do things that I don't want to do.

Until you feel hiccups in your butt, you don't understand what it's like to be me.

I'm watching another friggin documentary (the life of a tired pregnant twenty-something year old tool. ((That isn't the documentary. That is my life. Although if their was a documentary about me, it would probably be called something like that. ). This is a Discovery channel special about stress. And watching it is stressing me out. It discusses the function of stress in mammals and how our culture copes with excessive amounts of unnecessary stress. Stress is supposed to be a survival mechanism, but we use it every day with financial issues, finding work, keeping work, watching too many documentaries about everything that is wrong with the world, pressure to be a sassy unique lady in the world, and other such things and stuff and junk.

This is what is stressing me out most about this documentary, though: They used rats to test the effects of stress on the brain, and yes they found some interesting things about stuff (I'm going on 4 hours of sleep right now so pretend I am much more intelligent than I actually am), but was that really a necessary study?
Why do people always need to "study" and have "numbers" and "charts" to back up things that are pretty obvious. Um. Do you enjoy being stressed? No. Oh... Has anything good come from excessive stress? No. Oh... then it's bad. Ok.

But NO! This study was SOOOOOOOOO groundbreaking because it showed that scaring the shit out of rats for their entire lives had a negative effect on them.

Brilliant.

 They could have saved the time, money, and rats, and just studied the lives of the millions of animals already being tested on for even more useless scientific research/ household products/makeup. These animals endure entire lifetimes of stress.

People just need to listen to their bodies. If you are feeling miserable, you are doing something that is making you miserable. So find that something.............. (long pause)............and stop........doing it.

People are so smart and sciency, that they are actually stupid. They say things like sciency.

We really do need to slow down and breathe and realize that the nonsense that humans create (mortgages, politics, religious differences, etc) are not the important things in this life, and yet we allow them to dictate our actions and feelings a majority of the time.

I'm tired and the baby in my womb has hiccups and I can feel them in my butt (just keeping you up to date on the facts of my life).

I may blog more later. I probably should because this isn't a very good post. I really need to work harder to maintain the quality of my blog. I'm a failure.... Fine... I won't sleep. I'll just dwell on the mediocrity that is my blog. Who needs sleep? I won't believe I need sleep until I see charts that prove 1 million rats suffered and died because they didn't sleep. Then... I'll know.

Stress.

Butt hiccups

What is this prego talking about?

I like it when people surprise you in a good way.


What a dumb statement. Who doesn't like that?


I can't be held accountable for things I say or do anymore. As much of a tough badass baller I am as a pregnant chick, I'm starting to feel really pregnant, and it is exhausting. My back is pissed, my shins are pissed, my ribs are pissed, and my brain is pissed. All of a sudden, my brain is expected to comprehend that I am about to push another human out of my body.... and that's the easy part? Then I am supposed to make that human a functioning member of society? Isn't it enough that I grew her arms and eyeballs and spleen? Now I have to make sure she eats her veggies, and does her homework, and doesn't murder?

I like to complain because it's more fun than being happy (there is a peek into how my brain works), but the truth is that women are the lucky ones. Yeah we gotta endure the gruesome parts of pregnancy, but we also get to feel a baby hiccup in our bodies. We get to feel some of our child's earliest movements. And we get that surreal moment when our child goes from being inside of our body as a mysterious little moving belly creature to suddenly sitting on our chest and existing in real life as a real baby. Pregnancy has to be the coolest thing I have ever done. Except for going to the Coldplay concert.... this baby is going to have to be pretty awesome to live up to that concert (and so the psychological damage I will inflict on my child begins).

Enough pregnancy talk.

Can I help the fact that sometimes I really want to be a snobby rich girl with hair extensions and a personal assistant? Sometimes I just want to bling my accessories with pink Swarovski crystals and wear big sunglasses to hide my anorexia.

hmmm... can I be such a girl and be a good role model to my daughter?

I think so....

Ok. Done

What else do I have on my mind today besides the beautiful and awesome power of motherhood and the equally awesome power of being a materialistic narcissistic socialite?

I have way too much on my mind actually. I am trying to accomplish so many things because I feel like I am getting old. How absurd. But in the world of rich socialites, 22 is 42.

I gotta get botox.


Gosh. I'm pregnant.


-Mom-to-Be

Marriage

Your other is not another you

I would worry that old people are going to read this and get offended, but then I don't care because I am so young and unruly and disrespectful

When old people (aka anyone older than me) talk about youth today having no respect for what prior generations have done for this country, I look at the atrocious acts of violence we commited on other nations and look at our decaying educational system and look at our extreme disrespect for the environment and the blatant disregard for other cultures, particularly in the third world, and I get rather offended. These old folks do not wish to own up to any of these things. They like to talk as if our youthful angst and discomfort with these facts are things to be offended by (the grammar of that sentence are offensive. And yes, that last sentence is ironic) They like to sit and watch the news and talk with their fellow old people and feel as if they are doing something great for this country just by passively observing and defending it. These such old people underestimate my passion and love for this country and mistake my thirst for change as hatred for this country. I am well aware that if I hate America so much that I can just leave. And if you notice, I have not left. That is because I don't hate America.

I hate old people.


Except when I'm old. Then I'll probably hate young people too because they will remind me of a time when I was actually useful and mattered in this country.

I don't really hate old people.

I just hate being underestimated because I am young. I am young, but I am also educated, curious, strong, hardworking, and passionate about equality.


Except for equality for old people.


I hate old people.



No I don't.