I am Rosemary's Baby.

Last night's Open House was a bust. It was disappointing, but not unexpected. I did still net some profit before and after the Open Houses, though, which is good. We'll see what happens tomorrow morning.

I really want to go to Iowa tomorrow. There will be so many of the family at the internment in Montrose that I have not seen in years. It would be a wonderful, yet brief, opportunity to reconnect. Plus, I love Southern Iowa. My days on the farm during the summer growing up were some of the best I can remember. Barn jumping, ATV riding and catfish hunting. My best stories are borne from my experiences in Iowa. Love it.

I got my haircut yesterday. I always do this. I try try try to grow my hair out and I fail, because I have zero patience for such a tediously annoying task! So I did a quick search online to find the perfect cut, and I found it, of course. I wanted my hair to look similar to Michelle William's look in the October Vogue issue, but the hairstylist cut it too short and now it looks more like Mia Farrow circa Rosemary's Baby. Sure, I can pull it off, I have before. But I was still sad because it isn't as cute as MW's cut. Oh well, hair grows.

On the big plus side, my morning routine has gone from 45 minutes to like...18 minutes. Talk about sweet.

Best moment of the night though was telling my husband that I was attacked by a poop peanut, care of our daughter, Afton. He looked at me like I had lost my mind, until I explained that while changing Afton's diaper, a poop covered peanut fell out and landed right on my foot.

Watching Rudy writhe and gag on the floor makes the grossness soo worth it.

Ostrich Monster.

Some days I wish I could bury my head in the sand and just hide out, except I'd like to be invisible too, so someone doesn't come a-knockin' on my butt asking me why I've done gone insane.

People are dropping like flies!

On Saturday, Uncle Don had to be unhooked from his life support and on Sunday, he died. It's been a tough few weeks, dealing with crazy, emotional family members and the mysteriously vague illness that attacked Uncle Don and ultimately killed him. He was 83.

Then, on Monday, a good friend of my family calls to inform us that her father, a great friend of my grandparents, has been stuck in the hospital with a raging case of staphylococcus. The staph infection is so bad that it weakened his immune system enough to kick his pre-leukemia into a full-blown stage infinity leukemia. He has three months. What the hell, man?

Oh, and have I mentioned I am moving to Tempe? As in Arizona? Another one of our amazingly split-second decisions which will most likely render our little family just a slight bit crazier than we already were.

If luck is upon me (which it almost never is), my two Holiday Open Houses this week will be a lovely payoff. I am excited and nervous, as I have no idea how many people are actually going to show up. I'm trying not to set myself up for disappointment, because I am told open houses can be very tame. We'll see. I attempted to advertise as much as humanly possible. Go Mary Kay!

Otherwise I find that I thoroughly dislike working at the Club now. I am so over bartending and serving. I want something better!

Go me!

Distressing.

I can be obsessive sometimes. Not just your run-of-the-mill obsessiveness, but rather the more hardcore-can'tsleepcauseI'llforgetwhatI'mobsessingabout kind of obsessiveness.

On Facebook, for the past three days, someone was asking about the H1N1 shot and how she wasn't sure she was going to get it and her friends were saying the same thing, but no one had anything remotely relevant to say!

There were zero facts supporting their opinions, and their opinions were often based on myth and rumor.

This immediately sparked obsession, and since the person's friends didn't seem to give two shits about what I was saying, I finally researched about eight different sources of information about the flu, flu shot and everything in between and wrote a huge-ass note in hopes that everyone will read it, get educated, and stop pestering me with complete idiocy!

IDIOCY I TELL YOU.

Now, if after they read all my materials they still opt against the shot, I won't hold it against them, because at least it will now be an informed decision and not one based on what they heard from their sister's mother's cousin's hairdresser.

Talk about annoying.

Because I Can't.

I am Karly. I am a woman. I am fat and pregnant and about to get fatter and even more pregnant.

I am a bartender. I sling drinks for the privileged few and the pompous many who just think they're privileged. I am popular for not being an ugly bitch.

I am a student. I love school but am finding my ego deflated because I'm apparently not as smart as I once was.

I am bored. Unmotivated. Lazy. Sad. How do I take the step I keep screaming at myself to take? I haven't figured it out yet, but I'm sure I will when time is ready for me to move on. Until then I'll just be happy I can keep on taking Wellbutrin through my pregnancy, because hormones are not my friend and I am not a fan of feeling suicidal during my first trimester.

Life does get better, right?

When Life Runs You Over.

Ugh. I really wish summer was over and everyone was back at home and normalcy was the name of the game. My poor little brain just can't handle anything more right now.

I've been on Wellbutrin for almost one month now, and some days I feel like it's working, and other days not so much. But the whole thing could be a very complicated, compounded issue involving supermassive black holes of stress and pure evilness. The wedding was great, and jumping out of an airplane was absolutely amazing. Spontaneously jumping in the Club pool with my co-workers all clad in underwear was equally exciting. But they all seem to pale in comparison to the amount of hours of work and preparation that went into the do-it-yourself, budget wedding and all the meals that fed the extended family while they were here. Then you can add the shingles I developed three days before the ceremony for the second time (note: I also had chickenpox twice, go fig.), a job I only just started two weeks before the ceremony because I am obviously an idiot, and an assload of homework that I couldn't even remotely look at, let alone accomplish completion.

...

And when things were finally starting to settle down, my grandpa dies.

So what do I do? I don't even know! I am fairly certain I have an ulcer digging a hole straight through my stomach, because after the pain and the vomiting and the trip to the doctor who tells me my appendix is A-OK, I just assume that could be the only reason why my stomach is continuing to be the bane of my existence.

Well, I haven't bothered to read this over, but I am most assured that everything above this line is pure gibberish. And I am totally fine with it.

I'm Mexican!

Ok, not exactly by birth, but I am officially part Mexican in name. As in Karly Gomez. Yup, that's right my fellow readers, I have tied the knot.

Wasted

I spent five hours doing mostly nothing. I'm not certain why I was ever nervous in the first place.
My first day back working in almost one year. So much has happened in the interim that anxiety over my abilities damn near took over.

I am tired. A little uncertain. But I think this is good.

Early to bed tonight, and I will sleep well, I am certain.

Post Addiction Mayhem.

Stress is an evil entity that enjoys crawling under my skin without my kno wledge of it even existing in the first place. Then one day, without warning, I find myself curled up in a ball wondering how the hell did it get this bad in the first place?

At night is when the worries plague me the most. It's the time when everything starts to settle down and my mind has a chance to catch up with the goings-on of my life. I realize I have all this shit to accomplish and it seems like there just isn't enough time in a day to do everything, but I also can't seem to develop a system to help me manage or even overcome the time-crunch.

So what do I do? I freak out, shut down and do absolutely nothing. Stupid, right?

I want to find a way to beat my personal demons on my own without professional intervention, because although I think it is necessary in some situations, I want to be damn sure I've exhausted all of my own resources first.

Step One: Buy a damn planner already, and get the important shit on a schedule.

Baby steps, people. Baby steps.

Weather is awesome. I adore it.
Today was a crazy weather day and tonight and tomorrow may prove to be equally exciting.
Thankfully Google Earth still shows my house as existing, according to my friend, Chronic.
But several times this evening none of us were so sure.
I got some really good pictures, and a few videos on my Blackberry as well.
We watched the clouds spin above us and we were certain we were pretty much fucked.
Rudy hadn't experienced weather like Minnesota's before.
He found it to be much scarier here than the potential for hurricanes in San Antonio.
Damn straight.
Someday, I swear I will be a storm chaser.
Love is a tornado, not kicking your ass.


All photos taken by me! I am very proud of my lightning shot.

Systematic Hiatus

Holy Hell, it's been almost two months already. How lame am I?

I finally went back to school, so maybe someday I can have a real job, because although I adore my many fans when I'm behind (or on) the bar, I'm damn tired of living day-to-day on tips.

Plus, drunken idiots annoy me, and here in Owatonna it's quite taboo to physically remove people from the premises. Also lame. In San Antonio I was fairly famous for throwing a drunken, schizophrenic, male thief into the street of the downtown Riverwalk district. Hells yeah. Then he got arrested, and I took three shots to calm my steroidal nerves.

I'm currently trying to gain employment at the Country Club. I believe it to be a serious snob snooze-fest and just thinking about working there makes me want to convulse. But money is a necessity at the moment, mostly because after months of Mother's help while Rudy was incapacitated from two surgeries and I was recovering from the whole phenomenon known as "pregnancy," she pretty much drained every penny she had.

It doesn't help that my awesome (presently hateful) car has required its clutch being replaced, as well as the radiator, fan, hoses and all four brakes, and spark plugs! We've put more into repairing that stupid car than it's worth. Ugh.

Which brings me to the whole point of us needing to repair our credit. The move and lack of jobs, plus surgeries and pregnancy has pretty much destroyed us. If there is something worse than no credit, it's bad credit. Thankfully the whole going-back-to-school crap has allowed me the opportunity to acquire some additional funds with which to get my bills paid off.

Right now I am surprised at how much I have to say. Go me.

Afton is amazing. She rolls over, laughs, and sits up. She has two teeth and puts everything in her mouth. She loves avocado and spicy, mashed up foods thanks to her Mexican genes, since she definitely didn't acquire that from my Scandanvian, lutefisk loving genes. OK, I do not love cod soaked in lye, or any other seafood soaked in anything for that matter. But she is awesome. I am determined to exploit her unparalleled cuteness for her future benefit, by winning the Parents Magazine Cover Baby contest. Booyah.

Someday, I too will be cute. Stupid overweightness. I'm on my second round of hCG, and for some reason my weight has stopped coming off. Not good, especially when I ordered my wedding dress one size small in anticipation of my hCG overload. I will probably be doing an apple day tomorrow, and I will suffer relentlessly. We'll see what happens.

Indeed.

My Brother the Drone.

I have a hard time stating my...reservations in what I consider a "handout" from my brother. Mom thinks my lack of elation stems from ungratefulness, which is hardly the case as I am grateful.

My brother set up a college fund for my daughter that accrues interest over time. He opened the fund with $1000. It's awesome really, that he cares so much for his niece. I am happy for that, especially when I think about how much debt the poor girl has already acquired thanks to the Bush and Obama administrations. It's nice to know that in 18 years she may not have to worry about adding to that debt just by getting the education she deserves.

The problem I have lies in my brother's arrogance and the fact that he believes he is better and smarter than everyone, including me, and so by giving this money he will have some sort of "say" in her upbringing because I apparently am not qualified. The biggest reason, however, he feels I am unfit to train is because I completely disagree with his blind and ignorant following of Obama.

As someone who once considered herself a Democrat, I've spent the past several years evaluating my beliefs and politics and now find myself falling amongst the socially liberal, fiscally libertarian group. Basically, as a lover of Ayn Rand, I equate a lot of what's happening in the economy today with Atlas Shrugged. I recommend that book to everyone. But I digress.

I don't want to ever seem ungrateful for what my brother has done for my daughter, but in the same token I don't want to get caught up under his thumb and feel like I have to bow to his whim.

I hate being in limbo, and I can't wait to escape.

The Day Before Three Years Ago.

A little bit of excitement never hurt anyone.
Thunderstorms formed to the east today while we were walking home and it was just as beautiful as I last remembered it. I always loved watching clouds explode into the sky ferociously and spread their fingers out into the distance, blanketing the crystal blue with a stark white moving sheet.
When they show up at night I always get nervous, though. I'm strange like that.
Nothing is more soothing than being encapsulated in a comforter with only a tiny little opening so I can breathe from my mouth.
And I hide my buried head under a pillow too, so that the thunder doesn't roar in my head.
Desperately I pray though for the walls to shake and the sirens to blare and for me to jump up and yell, "Tornado!" out of the top of my lungs before diving under the bed and twitching uncontrollably.

I'm going to think about tomorrow and the next day and start to make my plans. My perfect, perfect plans.

And everyone's invited.

The Girl.

Already I start to wonder whether or not I will ever get my groove back. I think I've accepted too many mediocrities as a standard of being and thus allowed myself to lose that...fire. It's a nasty rut to be in; one that I've looked at placidly many times before, always telling myself that tomorrow I'm going to get up and do something! make change! live my freaking life already!

And yet here I am.

Sometimes I hate to admit it to myself, but I occasionally think that having a kid was a mistake. Granted, I'm already 25, so it wasn't as though I wasted my youth, but dammit I feel like I have a lot more living to do that I don't know how to do with a child.

But in the same breath I don't think it's the "having" a child part that gets me down. I fear it may be all the bad decisions I made during the impregnation. I was finally getting back on my feet and getting my credit in order; I had a well-paying job, I was going to go back to school and life was just starting to look brighter. But once I got pregnant I changed and I wanted to leave where I was and come home to be closer to my family. And ever since then I've been living on the brink of complete desolation.

OK, that may be a bit overstated. My little family now lives in the basement of my mother's house and my fiance and I are both unemployed. It's hard going from someone who took care of everything and everyone to someone who now has to ask permission just to go buy some soap.

Who is this girl?

The economy in town is pretty weak at the moment, which has made finding a job extremely hard. I was almost into an awesome job once...about three months ago, until my criminal history took me out of the running. I'm probably one of the most innocent looking people around, and I've got a damn record. I find it ironic.

How do I find myself amongst the rubble around me? How do I locate that which once made me whole? How do I find passion in a life that seems destined to fail and make it something worthy?

I don't know, and I won't say that I'm going to get up tomorrow and figure it out, because I seem to be a pretty good liar.

The Adventure Begins.

After some careful consideration I have decided that I need to write more. You might ask why, and I might tell you that once upon a time I had potential. At least, a little bit of potential. But when life started piling up on me one little disaster after another, I lost my focus. Now here I am, simply engaging in normal conversation with a computer screen so that I can keep words flowing, thought moving, and perhaps someday I can write that book I've always hoped.

If you choose to join me for this journey, I bid you good luck, for I assure you it will be anything but a smooth ride!