They're all equal.

Continuing battles with unemployment make me somber. But today, happiness was brought via phone line. First in the form of text message updates and announcements of the birth of Drayson Matthew Mora, to proud parents Jason "Skittles" and Everetta Mora. Those kids (and I shouldn't call them kids anymore) were two of my nearest and dearest high school comrades; Skittles being my senior year prom date and Everetta being the only reason I passed Calculus.


Cat n' Skittles, circa '03.

And while I continuously battle with my own struggle to grow up, those two have seemed to have accomplished it flawlessly; degrees behind them, careers in front of them, and now the great adventure of parenting. I can't think of two finer people for that adventure. They're proof that every once in a while, your first love is your best love. Cheers to them and in Skittles' own words, "truly epic".

Also from the phone: Me and Chesley huddled around her phone, on speaker, and heard glorious news about a dear friend of ours taking the all-too important step of the first kiss with a new lady. We both felt like proud mama bears, sending our cub into the big scary world of dating.

And one more phone thing; text message I sent Maria on Friday night: "I may or may not be at a strip club. But I probably am."

So, phone, don't let me down tomorrow when I call unemployment AGAIN and try to get crap straightened out. I'd really like to get home, if only for a few days.

The man in the mirror.

So few artists ever truly perfect their craft. Michael Jackson did that, when he was only 10 years old. He perfected it and then he re-wrote the book on how to do it. I'm glad that people seem to be celebrating his life, instead of mourning his loss. I hope that somewhere in the midwest, there's a drive-in theater being haunted by a newly-minted but extra fabulous dancing zombie.

I had an interview on Wednesday and if I get the job, it's certainly another one I won't be able to blog about. One of my interview questions was, "Please define confidentiality." Well, that probably doesn't include blogging. But, I felt like it went well. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Update on just how intelligent New Mexico Unemployment is: They have my name spelled Katherine, and I've spelled it 3 times for them. This is also printed on the debit card they sent me yesterday. Sigh. They also have the street I live on as Brookeline. Yeah, there's no 'e' in there. I guess that's my own fault for telling the lady it's spelled exactly as it sounds. Tell me dear Kyle, exactly what sound does the 'e' make in Brookeline?

Kick start my rock and roll heart.

I never looked at moving to Oklahoma as starting over. When you start over, it seems to insinuate there was something you needed to start over from, some sort of trauma that led up to a decision that you needed a clean break, a new change of pace. Like you needed it.

I didn’t need to leave New Mexico. I didn’t need Oklahoma. I was so perfectly happy there. Tom and me had a lot of conversations about it. I told him, “If you can’t be happy at home, then you won’t be happy anywhere else”. I wanted to leave Albuquerque so badly after the fire. But I think there were reasons I stayed as long as I did. I didn’t want to leave resenting my home. I needed to stay there, as painful as it was, to make peace with what happened. In April, I left Albuquerque fearing that I actually broke its heart, it never broke mine.

Oklahoma felt like a natural change, since I’d talked about doing it for so long. This move made sense; I finally figured out what I wanted to go back to school for, there was a great anthropology program at a state school with amazing funding, a room with a roommate, and it was within driving distance to home. I know a lot of people had a hard time seeing the logic in it, but I never did.

For about the first month, I was a little shocked by how I didn’t miss Albuquerque. Maybe I was just caught up in the glamour of being somewhere new and exciting, but I didn’t really feel any kind of true loss. It wasn’t real. But now that I’m settled in, the panic over money and more importantly, the panic over if I made the right decision is overwhelming. It feel like life’s on a giant pause button and I’m terrified to push play. I feel like 2009 will go down as The Lost Year. Being away from home and all the people I love, has opened up these pits of void I never knew I had.

It gets tempting to want to fill those voids with whatever you can. Everyone does it. Because if you successfully fill up that hole with something else, it’s like it was never there. But, I don’t want to replace anything, I don’t want to replace home. I’m trying as hard as I can to keep everything, even that feeling of loss, and gain new things, new perspectives, instead. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, you can’t replace what you’ve lost. I think I learned that long before I moved. There will never be another Golden West, I’ll never find another dog like Annie, I’ll never get in another visit to my grandfather in Little Ferry and I’ll never find a better way to spend a Sunday morning than with Kyle and a #6 from Twisters. Luckily, I can still get that last one.

Things here aren’t horrible. I’m not miserable being here. That’s not what this is about. There’s nothing wrong with being sad, there’s nothing wrong with missing home. Me and Oklahoma have been having some fun times, be it sometimes too much fun. I’ve met some quality folks here. And I’ve still got possibility. And that’s enough to keep me going for years.

When I first moved to Albuquerque, I don’t think Jimmy Eat World’s Bleed American left my CD player for a solid month. And every time I heard The Middle, I’d cry a bit. And that doesn’t embarrass me one bit. That album is absolutely incredible, no way to question it. The other night me and Chelsey went for a drive around Lake Hefner; ended up parking the truck on the west shore, watching city lights and drinking beers. While listening to that CD. And it turns out…

Even at 25,
You gotta start sometime.

I’m on my feet I’m on the floor I’m good to go.
Now all I need is just to hear a song I know.
I wanna always feel like part of this was mine.
I wanna fall in love (with Oklahoma City) tonight.

Don't let me down.

The truth is.

Still poor, still jobless, still without unemployment, still miss home. But, Chelsey and I did a monster grocery shopping yesterday, so I don't have to eat Ramen and beans anymore. I have a job interview on Wednesday and a merit test to take for another one on Monday.


And Kyle still loves me. He sent me New Mexico and the capability to make amazing breakfast burritos.


Burrito slop. I had an amazing dinner last night.


Over Stars and Gutters, Matt's band, released a CD on Thursday. More importantly, he got a haircut. And even though I spent 4 hours yesterday in 95 degree heat trying to jump start his truck, me and Chelsey still love him.


We also love Jerry Jump, the drummer for Over Stars and Gutters.

And other than that, life continues on as normal. I've got a cantaloupe I'm very excited about eating.

See? I'm not completely retarded.

Your destiny may keep you warm.

Sigh.

Thursday, I called the New Mexico Department of Workforce Solutions to file for unemployment. And I mean, I was dreading it. I bunkered down on the coach with my blanket, some crackers and every important financial document I've had in the last year. I was only on hold for 7ish minutes and the lady I talked to was very nice, very calm and seemed very competent. She took my information and told me to call back on Sunday to find out if I was approved and for how much. I already know I'll quality since I was formally laid off from the job I can't blog about in November and the only substantial job I've had since was seasonal.

So, I call back Sunday and after I'm on hold for an hour, a different woman that actually they have no record of me working for the job I can't blog about. UMM. This absolutely wrecks me. I really tried not to lose it, but I completely did; sobbing hysterically to an unknown worker, who was absolutely horrible about it... launching into the, "Ma'am, this is not my fault." Me: "Well, actually it probably is. I worked for ******* A WHOLE LOT in 2008." The woman tells me I'm "more than welcome to protest their decision" and I can send in my W-2 so they can evaluate it, but I need to allow FOUR TO SIX WEEKS for processing. The whole thing went poorly. I call my parents after I calm down a bit and both of them tell me to call back the next day, when I've mellowed out and ask to talk to a supervisor. Chelsey decides instead of sitting at home and feeling sad about it, that we should go out and have fun. And fun, we do have, including a Backstreet Boys singalong in a bar and later, Chelsey screaming "NACHO CHEESE" to a Taco Bell drive-thru attendant. Man, I needed that.

I call back yesterday and talk to someone who's nice, but still has no idea what she's doing. I tell her about what happened and how I just don't understand how it could be possible. She puts me on hold about 4 times to ask her supervisors and co-workers what the problem could be. It turns out, the first person didn't process my claim correctly. EVEN THOUGH the full name of my employer was available to them, they only ran it under half the name. Now, it gets a bit confusing, but it was basically like saying I worked for "Taco Bell" but the clerk saying I worked for just "Taco". OF COURSE, "Taco" will not have any record of my employment. Why would they? But, because of this error, the lady tells me I STILL have to fax in my W-2 to prove my wages and it'll still take 4 to 6 weeks. WHAT. I get a little sassy, just a bit, because I shouldn't be punished for someone else's error. The lady starts telling me how there's a lot of new people there and the software they have to use is really complicated and they're all doing the best they can. I tell her calmly that she's been very helpful, but I'd still like to speak with her supervisor. MAN, that did ever piss her off. Well, supervisor IVAN gets on the phone and tells me that upon closer inspection, my claim is actually against the federal government (the job that cannot be blogged about was for a federal agency) and because federal agencies are not required to report their earnings to the state of New Mexico, I'll still need to fax in the W-2. But, he says it'll probably only take 3 weeks and that I can still file for weekly unemployment and once it gets cleared up, I'll get back-unemployment for every week that goes by. He also gives me the direct line of the person in charge of the federal stuff, which he will soon learn he should not have done, because I will be calling that person EVERY DAY until this gets cleared up.

See dudes, this is why people hate dealing with government agencies; you have to be on hold or in line for hours of your day, they inevitably do something wrong and you get royally screwed for it. I think every person in the world has a horror story similar to this, be it with the MVD, the social security office, the IRS, etc. Seriously, people don't tolerate behavior like this from a private business. If someone sells you a car that breaks in a week or you eat somewhere and get food poisoning, most of the time, people get upset. But when it comes to dealing with the government, it's almost accepted that you're dealing with morons and you'll have to spend half your day getting it straightened out. Why exactly should we have to pay for an MVD Express when the regular MVD should really just be able to get it done right and quick in the first place? My entire job when I worked for the feds (and the job I turned down in the Governor's office) was basically fixing other people's mistakes. And I'm saying that we all must be perfect at our jobs, I screw up all the time (ask Kathy), but just the shier percentage of failure from government agencies is absolutely inexcusable.

And that's the most conservative I'll ever sound.

ANYWAY, it is good to know that eventually, when this all gets cleared up, I will get some dolla dolla billz coming my way. Especially since I just got disqualified from front runner out of all my job prospects because I didn't have a years worth of working with a specific kind of fundraising software. I don't think many job markets have bothered to admit that younger generations are pretty dang competent when it comes to the fancy computing machines. I can pretty much guarantee I could learn that software in under a day. If I can make a dancing piece of bacon in Maya, I can add and subtract. It seems I'm either overqualified or under-qualified. I'm never just qualified.

It is so freaking hot here. And the 's' on my keyboard seems to be dying.

He is old school.

Evolution of the elbow injury:
Day 1


Day 2



Day 3 (this morning)


It's quite difficult to photograph your own elbow.

Most of the swelling is gone today, but the bruising is absolutely intense. Still hurts. I think if I actually had health insurance, I'd go see a doctor just to make sure I didn't ruin anything. I probably just bruised the bone, but still. I'm no doctor.

Birthday was good! I went to brunch and drank mimosas here, then the Oklahoma Science Center (Omniplex), then out to dinner here. I also got so, so, so many happy birthday wishes via text message and the internet. Thanks, dudes. It was like getting a little piece of home.

Job search continues. Today was also my first visit to the Oklahoma unemployment website, which only supports Internet Explorer. And even after I waded through about 20 preliminary questions, the actual application process was down. OF COURSE. I've been a little reluctant to apply for unemployment because quite honestly, I haven't needed it until this point. But now it's down to the wire. Gulp.

As per tradition, first song of year 25 is American Girl.

We'll keep singing along.

I never to cease to amaze myself. Yesterday, I fell in the shower. Like, was leaning for something, my foot slipped and before I knew it, I was flat in the bathtub. My initial concern went to my tailbone, but then I became increasingly aware of a throbbing in my right elbow. I spent about the next hour waiting for it to go away, and it hasn't yet. My elbow was so swollen yesterday, it was like I was growing a third one. Especially after knocking it AGAIN on Matt's car door. I thought I might have to go to the ER last night. Things are better today, I guess. the swelling isn't as localized, but it's as swollen or threatening. The bruise is starting come out, so now the entire middle of my arm basically looks like sausage.

Happy Birthday to me!

Pictures soon, but it's really hard to take pictures of your own elbow.

The Chelsey quote on the incident: "I totally heard you fall and I said to myself, if the shower doesn't turn off in 10 minutes, I'm going in."

Homesickness is holding me deep this weekend. I'm just about broke and no one's calling me back about jobs. I'd do about anything for my favorite order from Frontier, a night at the El Rey, some pink mountains and a big hug from a certain Kyle. At the end of the day, I know moving was a good call, but it's times like this that I have a hard time believing that.

Last One to Die.

Nine men slept over last night, better known as Static Radio NJ and No Harm Done. I really enjoy playing band host for a night; it's a great way to hear some stories and guarantee yourself a place to stay where ever they happen to live. This is a violable resource for me; if I could spend my life touring, I very much would.

The thing I always love about bands staying over is just how good they are at arranging their sleeping bags. It's body tetris, and the good ones have it down to art. The good ones also can have their sleeping bags out, be changed, and asleep in 5 minutes flat. The really good ones don't even bother to change or with sleeping bags.

I had a good day yesterday, between my house guests and a new Rancid album. I'm sure everyone will hate it and that's fine with me. I'm glad my first listen was by myself because I'm sure if anyone was in the car with me, they would be LOLing over how dumb of a fan girl I am for months. Track One: As soon as I hear Tim's voice, tears start. Track Two: Matt Freeman's bass line makes me scream. Track Three: SKAAAA. Complete laughing fit. Track Nine: Straight COUNTRY song about Tim' brother coming back from the Iraq War. I coulda died happy in my car, right there.

There's a few songs on there about Iraq and they're almost conservative, talking about how "the bravest kids I know are the the ones that got to go fighting over there". There's a lot of punk rock bands that write a lot of punk rock songs that sound a lot like Anti-Flag about how horrible the war is, but I'm much more appreciative of bands that add a little bit more than the "Fuck You" to a protest song. Rancid's always been good at that. There's a genuine remorse in what they say about Iraq, not just anger. They've never gotten enough credit for being a political band. I think they might like it that way.

I read an article in the Los Angeles Times, which I can't find for the life of me now, that called Rancid "heart warming". While it's an odd adjective for punk rock, I can't think of a truer phrase for this album. It's a complete pop record, comparable with an And Out Come the Wolves tempo. It's subtle at times, punches you in the face other times, surprises you, reminds you of better days, makes you hopeful for new ones. But above all, it's honest. I love it. But I would have loved it no matter what.

(End Rancid talk, you can start reading again.)

Tonight, I am going to see Up, tomorrow is $1 beer at the Oklahoma City Redhawks (they play the Isotopes all the time) game and Friday I'm headed to an art show. Somewhere in there, I really should find a job. I'm thinking about applying at vet clinics again. While, dang, working at those places is some grossness, it's good, active and rewarding work.

Have I ever mentioned that I live with this painting? It's a good five feet long, by the way. It's sort of like living with Kenneth again. It keeps me safe while I sleep.

Car alarms.

Memorial Day weekend seemed to go horribly for most people I know. Shady bar shows, car wrecks, DUI's, brothers in ICUs, even death... the monster known as unlucky just really did not know where to stop. By the time Monday rolled around, I was seriously hiding out. Find me not, Mr. Monster.

Prior to that, I went with Chelsey to her parents house in southern Oklahoma, Lone Grove to be exact. We drove down with her 3 year old nephew, Caleb. Now dudes, I'm still awkward as anything around kids. They quite honestly freak me out. I have no idea how to behave, what's appropriate, what isn't (however, I did get to remind Chelsey that dropping the F-Bomb is never appropriate when there's a kid in the car, regardless of how bad the drivers on the Interstate are). I spent the first half of the car ride basically petrified of what was sitting behind me. Gradually, I got used to it, though. About the last half hour, me and Caleb invented an awesome game which was throwing his blanket back and forth, rolled up into a ball. The kid thought it was the funnest and funniest thing to ever happen on Planet Earth. Because I kept talking about "balling up the blanket" and how hard he was throwing it at me, that turned into Caleb screaming, "I'm gonna ball-punch you in the face!!!" Mid-ball punch contest, I quietly asked Chelsey if it was okay that I was, in essence, playing fetch with her nephew. "Chelsey, it alright if I treat your blood like a DOG? That cool??" She told me it was totally fine. She was actually grateful that it kept him quiet for the ride.

I'm so far away from being a parent. Maybe there is that little switch that kicks on someday, when child care just feels normal. Truth is, I've just never had to do that. I never had siblings, or nieces or nephews or cousins, I never had to babysit. I still remember just how SURREAL it was to watch Sergio hold Rachel for the first time and realize just how much of himself was in that baby, how much he owed it, how different his life would be from that point on. That little 6 pound infant was actually about 600 pounds of responsibility.


But just like everything else in Sergio's life, he adapted to it so quickly. It completely switched on for him. And that's not to say that it hasn't been difficult, because really you know, it's not like raising a life is the easiest thing in the world. Now it's weird to remember the Sergio without Rachel and Caitlin. Which is how it's supposed to be, I'm sure.

Anyway, I'm days away from birthday #25. Now, that's SURREAL. It's sort of got me examining things, comparing myself to other people and where they were at 25. When my mom was 25, she was working for a pizza supply company in the Bronx and living with the woman who would become my Oma. My dad was living outside Dallas, working at an airport and playing in country rock bands. They didn't get married until 31 and 32; didn't have me til they were 33 and 34. In comparison, literally more than half of the people I graduated high school with are married or have children. A part of me feels like I really should be more ready to settle down. I feel a little bit out of place, almost guilty about it. But more of me is screaming about all the things I still want to do in my life. (God, I really wish I was starting school in the Fall. I would be so, so happy if I was.) I think parenting will be a extraordinary adventure, but it's one I am certainly not ready for.

It really is amazing just how much we become our parents. Which is probably why the thought of child rearing still terrifies me. Thankfully, when I do get there, I've got about 500 people in my life who will rule at parenting and I'm sure they'll walk me through the whole process, and make sure my kid doesn't end up on The Real World. Hey, remember when that show actually featured people and not alcohol? I'm getting old.

On a completely unrelated note, saying I drank too much last night would be a gross understatement. Last night was the sort of night where sleeping on your bathroom floor was the best available decision. Going my text message outbox this morning literally made me cringe. Next time I'm playing flip cup, the phone stays at home.