2.28.2009

Dream, that's all you can.




February 28, 2008 is the sort of day I can only remember pieces about. There's lots of pieces, some of them fit together, but for the most part, it's all a jumbled mess of a day.

I remember driving faster than I've ever driven through the canyon, only to find a huge black cloud rising from downtown. At which point I thought, "Why am I speeding? Am I going to put out the fire?". I remember gagging when the fire department let us close enough to the Golden West where we could finally see the full extent of what had happened. I remember the huge, overwhelming sense of relief when the fire department let us inside the El Rey, seeing our precious dance floor flooded with gallons of water. In a weird way, it didn't look out of place. I remember the smell, oh God, that smell. It still makes me cringe. I remember sitting on curb, in between Kyle and Joe Anderson, eating a sandwich. we were waiting for something. I have no idea what. I remember Kathy screaming at ATF to be nice to our staff. I remember sitting down in her house with a yellow tablet and a pen, trying to figure out exactly where to start.

I thought about having some kind of memorial service in the Golden West (actually, I thought we should have a fun jump and a keg in there). I thought about getting a memorial tattoo today, just something to symbolize the year that's gone by. But, the way it's worked out, I decided the best way to honor my fallen comrade was to let the anniversary pass by, quietly and gracefully. It's what she would have wanted. If you don't believe that those walls could talk, then I don't know what to tell you. I think that's why we all miss it so much. She had some good stories. But really, she still does. She would tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself, go to work, and maybe throw down a shot or two later on in the night.

Last night was the first night I cried over the fact that someone could have been in there when the fire broke out. I guess that has a lot more to do with my Grandfather. He would have loved that place.

So, after a year, it's still there, four walls and a wooden floor, the skeleton of its former self. We lose certain parts and pieces of our lives at any given time, but we find just as much as we lose. I guess that's what I needed to learn this past year.

That being said... Seriously. Get me out of February.

2.21.2009

Packing.

it's like you took the giant christmas tree
at rockafella center and
you spread it paper thin
but you were careful not to break a bulb
and then you mirrored it a million fold
to shine
and shine
and shine along

and there's a tap on my knee
bring up your seat back please, she says
but I know she means
if you feel like dancing
dance with me

some of the lights below
shine directly on the people I know
their lives take such strange shapes
but how together they appear from above
I guess that could be love
my friends
my friends
I'm coming home

and then the captain speaks
it's clear and 44 degrees
but I know he means
if you feel like dancing
dance with me

but I been out past the lights
where the jagged black begins
i let my heels sink in the sand
and the ocean sucked it's teeth
and the cold cuts through my feet
and stretched out on and on and on

how disconnected I can feel on the ground
it's like I'm shining all alone
and i don't wanna be
so
before i go to bed tonight
i'll signal up to the passing flight
hit the lights
the lights
the lights
the lights

and now the man in the middle seat
recites the times tables audibly
but i know he means
if you feel like dancing
dance with me
if you feel like dancing
dance with me


I don't post lyrics very often, it at all, but I've been relying heavily on my favorite collections of chords and melodies these last few days. I think Flight 180 by Bishop Allen will be the only reason I'll find my way to the Sunport this morning.

Off to the Garden State, I go. I thought about watching that movie last night, but under circumstances, I couldn't even fathom how much it would break my heart. I'd like to hide in my bed for the next 4 days, rather than attend memorial after funeral after rosary after family reunion. Going to New Jersey forces me to deal with it, and I really don't want to do that. Not yet, at least. Maybe that's mean to say, but I think we all think that.

We'll be staying in Grandpa's red house. I can't even get over how bizarre that'll be. But, there's no internet there. I'd follow me via twitter. Unlike most of you, I have no fancy internet phone (not yet anyway. Sometimes I hear the white iPhones singing for me at night.) so texting away my 140 characters is an acceptable substitute.

Wish me luck, there's storms back east. And while I think it'll be pretty and symbolic, it makes flying into Newark that much worse.

2.19.2009

The Monitor.



The last image I'll have of my grandfather is one of the sweetest anyone can hope for. He's standing in the window of his front door, waving goodbye to me as I drove off. I highly doubt I'm the only one with this image, as Emile Bedard was the sort of man who saw people off. He would stuff your stomach, make you take a to-go bag full of food and probably drop a few extra dollars in your pocket. Because if Emile Bedard couldn't be there to take care of you, he wanted to do all he could before you were gone. He was a caretaker, be it of his wife, his children, his grandchildren, his neighbors, his fellow soldiers or his beloved El Dorado. That's Spanish for gold, he told me once. Especially now, I am so thankful for the six weeks last year that he took care of me; when I stopped in Little Ferry on my extended road trip. I don't know what I'll do this time around in New Jersey, without him.

October 3, 1919 - February 16, 2009

2.15.2009

Cat fight outside my window.



This kid will either adore his parents or hate them later in life. I like to think he'll adore them.


You know, I feel like I've got a good group of friends, and a large one at that. I really enjoy spending time with them. But lately, I've started to have some major anxieties about public places. I haven't been to Walmart in months and I get super anxious when I can't find a parking spot or a table to sit at in a restaurant. I really don't know where all that's coming from.

Kyle and I spent Love Day inside, for the most part. We got Dion's for lunch, watched a movie, took a nap, got Coldstone, watched some British Office and he went home. This weekend, I launched a major assault on the cold that tried to develop in my throat, so I wasn't up for giant crowds (see above) or outdoor adventures. Most of my downtime is spent recovering from my insult of a work week. It's getting easier, though.

I'm sorry, how has Paul Blart: Mall Cop made over $100million? I had a problem putting that in italics.

2.12.2009

Fly away, breakaway.

I guess it's okay to tell you I work at the State Capitol. You have no idea what I could be doing at the State Capitol! I could be a janitor, a food service worker, a secretary, an analyst, a lobbyist, a press assistant... there are many jobs one can have at the Capitol.

Anyway, I was at the Capitol until 9:15 last night. Working. The first of what I'm sure will be many 13 hour days. By the kindness of my boss's heart, he's letting me come in an hour later this morning, which means I got up at 6:25, not 5:15. But dudes, I was right. Early's still early.

Call the DOT to make a warning sign. Cat's a zombie today.

2.11.2009

Ruthy Baby

Dear College of Santa Fe,

Congratulations, you're failing. No one wants to go to school there. Well, it might have something to do with the fact your tuition is completely ridiculous. Labeling your school as "challenging" and "competitive" and "progressive" doesn't mean it is. It just means it's expensive. While I completely agree that Santa Fe needs a public college, just admit that this move is completely your last resort and you're absolutely disgusted with the fact that Highlands is about to buy you out. You know, maybe if you weren't so pretentious about the level of education you have to offer and charged people a reasonable amount to go there, people actually would! Or maybe I'm just bitter because your snobby film program has spent years shunning UNM's. Well, maybe this is what you get.

Also, thanks for prompting my first letter-blog in probably a year.

Never yours,
Cat, Proud UNM Media Arts Alumni.

Speaking of a year, it's been one of those since I came back from my grand adventure. And what a year it's been... I come home to a fire and a federal office. I feel great, big professional shifts, and maybe some emotional ones. Kathy keeps telling me I'm meaner than I used to be. Maybe I'm just more honest.

I did my taxes, which prompted me to fill out my FAFSA. Who knows, maybe the federal government will give me enough money to get back into school. That's what I really want to do, so I might as well go for it.

I'm really antsy to go back to Quebec, when it's actually warm. I'm not eager to head back to Jersey; G-Pa's health has taken a turn for the worst. Lots of nasty things are happening and for the most part, I don't like talking about it. This may not make sense but, the thought of my grandfather dying doesn't bother me nearly as much as the thought of him being in pain. Grandpa's a spiritual man, I think he's where he wants to be with the God and the afterworld. But, like I said, I don't like talking about it. I'll talk about it when I want to.

Current work's going okay. It is getting busier. I start working Saturdays next weekend. The sun's starting to come up earlier, so I almost get to see Albuquerque in the daylight. Almost.

2.01.2009

She's the best of everything.

I know, I know. Imma bad blogger. But I work a lot. About the only thing I want to do when I get home is eat. Then preferably see an amazing person that will let me whine about work for a few hours, then go to bed. It's 9:30. Guess where I am? If you said in bed, you're correct.

But, on with blog.


How I watched Obama Day.


If this picture does not indicate where I work, then... Bad New Mexican! Bad! No, actually working there is the first time I've been in the Capitol in years. WHOOPS. Did I type that?!?

New job is going pretty alright. People seem to want to give me fancy job titles that, in all actuality, don't mean a whole lot. I got "promoted" from what I thought my original job would be. That means I make more money, but I seem to have an almost identical job. People tell me that'll change in a month or so, but I'm skeptical. People always seem to tell me my job is going to be a lot more than it actually is. Am I really good at avoiding work or...?

I will tell you that's it's super awesome to hear the older women in this place talk about how excited they were to vote for Obama. Makes my heart glow.

Commute is still balls. The train's been on time, but that doesn't stop the fact I have to be up early. For the most part, I feel like early is early. If I've got to be up prior to 8am, it's early. But, 5:15am... that's a whole nother early. I guess I'll just spend the next two months of my life super tired. I'm not proud to say that Starbucks has become my morning BFF. I feel like butt if I don't have some kind of caffeine before I get on the train. And drinking Dr. Pepper prior to 10am just doesn't feel right.

BUT. HEY. What happens when you get trapped in an ice storm?


You drink a lot of Lost Lake. That's what.


I'll be honest and tell you that ice storm sort of ruled. I mean, I got an involuntary vacation. I got oh so lucky in getting stuck with Chelsey. She and I have pretty much the exact idea of fun, which is hanging out on a couch and watching game shows. Then, when you get bored with that, you throw ice balls at neighbors you don't like. Then, when you get bored with that, you walk to Walgreens and buy a Snuggie.


No really, we had a super good time.


This is what Ice Storm looks like.


Sort of. This is ice that's melted off a roof and crashed into ice that hasn't melted on the ground. Just imagine everything in your world. Now, put a sheet of ice on top of it. That's an ice storm.

This postsecret, as previously posted about, has proved to be one of the biggest catalysts of change I have ever witnessed. I think we, as New Mexicans, have all thought about it. Now, a lot of us seem to be doing it; sort of a mass exodus. It's really exciting and intense, the thought of leaving. But, I think coming home is just as big of a rush, regardless of how long I've been gone. I told Ashley tonight I was portable. It made a lot of sense.

Speaking of change, I decided it was time for some. Out of thin air, and a bit of luck, I visited Emily Stone at her first official day of hair cutting at Casa Verde and she took off a good six inches. I absolutely love it. I had no idea there was actual hair under all that death and damage. I also spent a lot of money on Aveda products, in an attempt to look, feel and smell better (that stuff smells sooooo good). AND I booked an herbal salt glow at Betty's. The point is, if I'm going to be working so much, I need to take care of myself. I feel better already.

Now. If only a museum would hire me...