Journey to the End.

Monsters Ball.

2011-07-19T13:06:00.001-05:00

I'm around a lot of conferences and trainings at my new job, which I still like by the way. If you are a frequenter of hotels or functions that are catered, you will know that there is a multitude of free cookies everywhere. Hotels shed cookies. Cookies and continental breakfasts.

It's a cheap way of telling someone, "Hey, we like your business. Have a cookie." And people fall for it like crazy. To the point where if a cookie is not presented, they feel betrayed, robbed even. So, it's become a thing that you must order in the catering world: a PM break. "PM break for 30 participants to consist of cookies." Seriously. Most of the time, if conference goers were just savvy enough, they could surely stumble upon free cookies at any hotel. But, in the grand laziness of American society, the cookies must now also be delivered. First, they must be provided, now they must be delivered.

When I started noticing this, I was a little disgusted. Maybe not as much as I should have been, as I am the type of person who will actively search out any sort of free food, including those blasted cookies, but there was just something about watching the PM breakers devourer those cookies. Maybe I see myself in it, the gross college kid, eating as much as humanly possible because you're really not quite certain where that next meal is coming from. But just the level of "it's free so I'm gonna take all of it" is a little disturbing. In my food scavenging, I'll just take something for me and call it a day. I've seen people stuff their purses full to the brim with cookies. And trust me lady, that one napkin you used to wrap them, it's not gonna hold up. You'll have cookie crumbs in your purse for a year, it's like going to a sandy beach. That's really the only thing that gives me comfort.

And the rage, OH the rage, if there's not enough cookies to go around. You wouldn't believe it! The anger. "WHERE is MAH cookie! I am a PARTICIPANT and I do not have a COOKIEH." I'm sorry ma'am, you might want to check your friend's purse. And because of the purse stuffers, the cost of this PM break is just ridiculous. Like, $8 a person. $8 for a cookie and some iced tea! Seriously guys, just walk down the hall discretely and the cookie selection is actually much better!

So, these PM breakers, these purse stuffers, these lazy Americans, I found it all very, very disturbing for a few months. The first months at my job, I was at hotels A LOT so I spent a lot of quality, one-on-one time with participants who either got no cookies or too many cookies. I was pretty done with the whole thing until I came down to earth, back to my office, and found myself, one stressful afternoon, seriously missing my afternoon cookie. My little token of appreciation, my scavenger hunt. At first, I was a bit disgusted with myself but then I got to thinking. Maybe these PM breakers are onto something. We adore our morning coffee breaks, smokers can't wait for that next cigarette. A cookie in the afternoon probably isn't that bad of an idea. A ten minute break, right when you feel like the day will never end, just to savor something, a token of gratitude, might just be enough for our high speed, high stress society to breathe for a few minutes. Just calm the fuck down, breathe, and enjoy a cookie. No wonder those people take as many as they can. It's a great feeling.

The point is, cookies are great. Enjoy them. Do what you can you have a few minutes to congratulate yourself on going to work everyday, contributing to the gross national product and taking all those giant steps towards full-blown adulthood. Or a few minutes to congratulate yourself for knowing your job isn't who you are, that you'll never stop listening to punk rock and you're stealing a few minutes of precious salaried time to do absolutely nothing that benefits that gross national product. Or just don't think at all. Just enjoy a cookie. Cookies, really, they're seriously fucking great.

But, for the love of Christ, leave some for everyone else.

Off my chest.

2011-02-04T00:44:00.002-06:00

For 2011:
But you'll fight and you'll make it through.
You'll fake it if you have to.
And you'll show up for work with a smile.
You'll be better,
And You'll be smarter,
And More grown up and a better daughter or son
And a real good friend.
And you'll be awake.
You'll be alert.
You'll be positive though it hurts.
And you'll laugh and embrace all your friends.
And you'll be a real good listener,
You'll be honest,
You'll be brave,
You'll be handsome and you'll be beautiful.
You'll be happy.

I was walking home from work on Monday, across the meticulously groomed grounds of the University of Oklahoma, when it hit me like a brick. This is what I've been waiting for.

When I was at UNM, I walked to school almost every day. From the neighborhood bordering the Law School, through the med center, across Lomas and through their own campus. It was about a 20 minute walk, depending on where I needed to be. But I really enjoyed it. It gave me a few quiet minutes to listen to music, go through my daily checklist and sort of pace myself for everything I had coming up. There were some times where I fucking hated it. When it was 98 degrees outside, that first week back every semester, where I swore I would break down and buy a parking permit for South Lot. But nope. Never did it. I just kept on walking.

I noticed a huge difference in myself when I stopped. I didn't notice it then but now that I look back, I can see it. I felt sluggish, not as put together, I started gaining weight. Now, I think that probably had a lot to do with the fact I had just graduated college and I had no idea where the fuck my life was going, but I think if I would have had a few minutes a day to just calm the fuck down, I would have made that transition much easier.

I've been thinking about that time period a lot lately, how scary it was. I was so scared of being an adult that I decided that driving to Canada was a far better option than a desk job. And it really was. I don't regret a single minute or a single mile of that trip and I cannot wait to be able to do it again. But that doesn't change the fact I was running, and from what I still cannot pin point, but I was running (Jenny!). I was terrified of it all; adulthood, credit reports, commitment, leases. There wasn't a single part of being 22 that I was excited about. When I got home, I thought I'd be able to make the transition into commerce with ease with the help of my dear friends at the El Rey. A week and a half later, the Golden West burned. That same day, I was offered a desk job that I feared most of all. And in that fear, I panicked and took it. What followed was nothing sort of emotional hell. I hated my job. I cried on the way to work almost weekly. My mind was so screwed up about the fire and a few weeks later, Annie my hound-dog was put to sleep. If I had the capability of feeling misery by that point, I was there.

And it all tied in. But I associated all that anxiety with my job, most of all. I know now that I should have made the best of it, but that office and that life left a very bitter taste in my mouth. It left the idea that all real jobs are evil and there's nothing to gain from them. And the ones you like just burn away. It was a horrible place to be. So horrible in fact that I became so desperate to make it stop, to make everything change, that I moved to Oklahoma. And it's all been uphill since.

Now, I'm a fairly rational person. I've come to terms that everything that I did, how I handled that job and everything associated with being a grown up would have all been vastly improved if I just would have been a bit more positive, taken some time to myself to figure out where I really was and what I really wanted. But I never gave myself that luxury. I got so caught up in the decadent drama and I had no idea how to make it all stop. About 4 months into my stay in Oklahoma, I think all that came crashing in. And while I couldn't verbalize a single word of it, I was blessed with a fantastic network, both back home, in Oklahoma and across the globe that reminded me that everything would be okay. And guess what, you guys. It really is. And it really always was.

So here we go with this again. I'm 26 years old and the month of January in this, the 2011th year of our Lord, has thrown a lot of changing on me. I was hired on permanent at my first Oklahoma job back in April but I learned fairly quickly that I wasn't meant for the work I was doing and it would be unfair to continue doing it. On a whim in December, I applied for about 12 jobs in one day. And hey, one of those jobs called me back. And what would you know, they hired me. And guys, it's a job I like. That's right. I like it. I don't dread going. I like going. I like what I'm doing. It may not be love, but I'm excited to get there every morning. Who would have thought. And, probably the best part, the job provides some insanely wonderful incentives for me to go back to school. I should be back in a classroom come August. I cannot fucking wait.

This new job's in Norman. For you New Mexicans, that's a haul of a commute from where I was living. But it came to be that a friend of mine needed a roommate. And where is his house? Why, it's a short walk away from my office. I get to walk to work. So, what would you know, I've got a new room, a new roommate and a new commute. I started my new job three weeks ago and officially moved in with Greg Johnson two weeks ago.

I kept telling my mom that all this change was positive but it was just so much change. I was heartbroken to move out of the condo that Chelsey Wilson built. After the bar burned, I didn't feel like I had a home until I got there. We should all be lucky to have friends as compassionate and practical as she. That house was a refuge for me, I didn't feel like anything could hurt me there. The day I moved out, Drunk-Chelsey so poetically told me that when I moved in, I was a caterpillar and now I was blossoming into a beautiful butterfly and she was happy to set me free.

So, it all may still be very new, and I'm still adjusting, but I'm doing just that, adjusting. Not running, not coping, I'm adjusting. Adjusting to this almost-adult Cat, with her car payment, her own office (with a freaking bathroom) and her line of credit. If 16 year old me could see now, I don't think she'd hate me. She wouldn't be my friend, but we'd get along. I think that's a feet that's been years in the making.

2011 won't be any slower. It won't be any calmer. But I think I'm better equipped to handle it then ever. I've been telling everyone I was optimistic about this year. And I really am.

But that's all mush-mush. I'm available to talk about the Oklahoma City Thunder at any time.

St. Catherine and her Mazda dream.

2010-08-25T18:56:00.003-05:00

In one of my 16mm classes at UNM, we started playing around with clear leader film, which is exactly what it sounds like. It's translucent film that filmmakers put on the front, the "leader" of an actual film to serve as a buffer for the actual film. It's got sprocket holes and it feeds into a projector just the same as regular film.

We talked a lot about this dude, named Stan Brakage, who used to paint and color on clear leader, on top of actually filming. He basically started using film as an actual canvas in the sense a painter uses one. (Note, he's at a bar.) Stan Brakage was also fiercely intelligent. He said my favorite quote I ever read in college:

"Imagine an eye unruled by man-made laws of perspective, an eye unprejudiced by compositional logic, an eye which does not respond to the name of everything but which must know each object encountered in life through an adventure of perception. How many colors are there in a field of grass to the crawling baby unaware of 'Green'? How many rainbows can light create for the untutored eye? How aware of variations in heat waves can that eye be? Imagine a world alive with incomprehensible objects and shimmering with an endless variety of movement and innumerable gradations of color. Imagine a world before the 'beginning was the word'."

Npw, people have been painting and coloring film for years. This was done in 1896. The way the dress changes color is that one of the Lumière brothers (or one of their assistants, more than likely) went in and dyed the film with ink, frame by frame. And remember, there's 24 frames in one second of a movie. It's just as time consuming as it sounds.

Brakage took it one step farther and started taping things to clear leader as well, just to see the sort of images it would project. He's probably most famous in academic circles (how pretentious can I sound?) for a film called Mothlight, where he taped insect wings, seed pods, leaves and other translucent stuff found in nature onto clear leader. The actual leader looked like this:

With I find lovely enough on its own. And the actual projection is a bit hypnotizing:

Fun, right? It certainly is. I also learned in college that if you take a hot iron to white leader (leader that's colored and dyed white. Most filmmakers use it to write on, to mark titles, last times it was edited, etc. Most of the time, never projected.) it will peel off the color and make it look streaky.

Rewind a year or so. I don't talk a lot about the guy I dated then, by the name of Chad. Mostly because there's not a whole lot to say. I will tell you he's the first heart I ever broke, and he broke mine just as much. He wasn't a bad guy and he cared for me immensely, much more than I was ready for. Our breakup was really the destructive part, not the relationship. But our relationship was the sort of thing you just have to get rid of. I threw away things that meant a lot to me, something I very, rarely do, regardless of how much it hurts me to see them. I threw away a roll of film from the night pictured above, because I just couldn't look at it.

Fast forward a few years. I'm living in Maria's and cleaning out my mess of a desk. What do I find? The negatives from that roll of film. I start looking at them and decide that there's some art therapy in there. I cut them into pieces and tape them to clear leader.

An idea is born!

I haven't even tried to project them, or even splice the pieces together. But I like the weird sort of closure I got from it, making it, and that experience into something new and creative.

I also don't say a lot about my mom having Multiple Sclerosis, and neither does my mom, mostly because she is so much bigger than a disease. I will say that it is remarkable how little of an effect MS has had on my life, and on hers. Mom refuses to let it get the better of her. If you know mi madre, you know she really is an amazing person. Everyone says that about their mothers (actually, my new job has taught me that not everyone says that about their mothers) but I really, really lucked out. She's pure gold.

About a year ago, I told my mom about my film negative project. So, she gives me the film from a MRI she had done in 2001 (above) and tells me to make something pretty. I took out one film sheet and started cutting it up, taping it to the leader. I really wasn't pleased with how dark it was. It didn't have nearly the same effect as the film negative. So, I sat on it for a long time. Then, last week I was at Target buying laundry supplies when I remembered that when you put bleach on film, it lightens it. In some cases, it pulls the emulsion right off of it. I bought a jug of Clorox and almost ran back to the condo.

The process of it, throwing on different amounts of bleach became creepier than I ever could have expected:

Emulsion literally dripping off into my tub! But I loved the ending result:

So, now I've got a wall of bleached MRI film:

Some super creepy self portraits:

And a new art project!

Just in case you were wondering what my creative brain's been up to, there you go. I was in desperate need of a new creative project, as my job's stress level has been nearly unbearable. I'm losing sleep over it. I've just got to remember to take deep breaths, that I've got a wonderful network of people here and back home who would do just about anything to support me and OU football is almost upon us. I mean seriously, how can things be bad when the weather's finally starting to cool down and Landry Jones has a mustache? They simply can't. I've also been trying to eat better and eat more protein. I'm losing a bit of weight (!!!) slowly but surely and I already feel better physically. My car's also hanging in there like a champ, which has officially become something to celebrate.

I did get a few days to go back to Albuquerque with Chelsey at the beginning of the month, which is by far the best medicine for stress I've ever found. That trip can be best summarized with this:

To meet the thirst of our children.

2010-06-29T22:38:00.003-05:00

The Ten Plagues of Egypt are the ten calamities imposed upon Egypt by Yahweh as recounted in the Book of Exodus, Chapters 7–12, to convince Pharaoh to let the poorly treated Israelite slaves go. Pharaoh did not permit this until after the tenth plague. The plagues were applied in a way to portray clearly the reality of Israel’s God, and by contrast the impotence of Egypt’s gods. Some commentators have associated several of the plagues with judgment on specific gods associated with the Nile, fertility and natural phenomena.

Dudes, I think I upset Yahweh.

Let’s take a look at the list:

Plague #1: Nile Turned to Blood
Well, I’m not anywhere close to the Nile. But I can tell you that Oklahoma City streams and rivers grew exponentially a few weeks ago. And all that red dirt made things look a bit creepy. The metro got 8 inches of water in a few hours, which resulted in all of this:

Please note girl clinging to tree. (This photo CREEPS ME OUT. Like, almost to the point of nightmares. Not sure why... maybe because she looks like a raccoon. And I mean no disrespect. It's pretty awesome she's alive and well, that's a brave 17 year old. But this photo is creepy and raccoon-like, yes?) My mom saw this and flipped out. She called me crying, begging me to move home. I guess I can’t blame her.

I got stuck on I-44 that morning. I didn’t think anything of it when I left. Just rain, step over the puddles and you’re fine. I sat on the Interstate for about 2 hours before things started moving and when they did, I realized it was people were, quite literally, making a run for it, in a desperate attempt to not end up one of those crazy, shirtless people on the news clinging to the top of their SUV. Watching water rise all around your car, not fun. So I, panic attack building, make the decision to haul ass under the Broadway Extension/I-235 bridge, which at that point has about a foot of water under it for about 50 yards. Scariest 50 yards of my life. I screamed the whole time, visions of me, crazy and shirtless, clinging to the sunroof of my week-old car (more on that in a minute) playing over and over in front of my eyes. Well luckily, I made it out and to work in Midwest City. I stayed at my office long enough to calm down and let the rain calm down before making it to training in Norman, three hours late.

Fun doesn’t stop there. Remember this youtube video of the backyard flooding?

Funnies. It’s not so funny when it’s 8 inches of water, as opposed to just one. So, the carpet got flooded and stinky, in both the living room and my room. Gross. Hopefully FEMA comes through with some sweet, sweet federal cash for that.

Plague #7: Hail

Oh. Yeah. We got hail. See the previous entry. State Farm ended up totaling my car. Again. So I went car shopping. Again. This time, much less stressful. I knew exactly what I wanted, exactly how to deal with financing, all of that. I went test driving on Memorial Day and drove no fewer than 10 vehicles. I was on a mission, dudes. Bonus points to Greg Johnson for going with me on every, single test drive. On the top of my list was a Mazda 3 and by Jorge, I could afford it so that’s what I ended up with.

It’s pretty. It’s fast. It’s spacious. It’s classy. It’s new. I named her Estella Mankiller. Plague #7 didn’t end too badly. However, my monthly payments are higher, as is insurance, and financing on the car still isn’t straightened out. I am so sick of not having credit. You’d think something would show up by now. You’d be wrong.

Plagues #3, #4 and #8: Gnats, Flies and Locusts
Gertie got fleas about a month ago. And brought them into the house. Chelsey and me CLEANED. I mean, scrubbed the condo from top to bottom. It was a weekend project. Therapeutic, honestly. Last week, I thought I saw a big one on my bed, like a big momma pregnant flea. I killed it and hoped it was just a freak occurrence, a mutant flea with pregnant super powers, strong enough to withstand fogging. Upon closer inspection, this is no flea. This is no tick. This bug is nothing sponsored by Gertie. This is, in fact, a bed bug. Quite possibly the grossest shit I can possibly imagine. In my bed; probably my favorite place in the world. SHUT UP, UNIVERSE.

I found more when I pulled my bed apart, hiding under my boxspring and on the side of my mattress. Not gonna lie to you, knowing that parasites are crawling around in there, waiting for me to sleep so they can drink my blood is enough to make me never, ever sleep again.

And how does one get rid of bed bugs? Oh, it’s pretty easy. Call an exterminator and pay $300 a room. Good, because last week I got this fantastic money tree in the backyard and it grows dollar bills whenever Gertie pees on it. You should see what happens when she poops on it. Rare coins and Rolex’s. Anyway, it's next to impossible to get rid of them without professional help. And said money tree. You also have to take every piece of clothing you own to a laundry mat and let it tumble around in a high-heat dryer for a while. Super fun. Last week was great.

And how does one contract bed bugs? Luggage, mainly. It’s got nothing to do with cleanliness. And much to Chelsey’s mother’s dismay, it’s got nothing to do with Gertie. Poor baby-dog is probably so sick of shit biting her that she’s about to run away. Bed bugs normally load up into a bag and you bring them home. I, or Chelsey, could have gotten them from anywhere, really. I’m betting it happened in the last month, because I noticed nothing bed bug-related during the flea-superclean.

AND YES, I know bed bugs aren’t flies, gnats or locusts but they’re close enough and gross enough to occupy all categories. So, 5 out of 10 ain’t bad, biblically. I’ve got frogs, Plague on Cattle, boils, darkness and death of the firstborn left. So basically, I’ll probably get mad cow disease, on top of some kind of flesh eating bacteria and fall victim to constant rolling blackouts and power surges. Maybe if we’re lucky, Chelsey and me will get to re-wire the condo’s electricity. And then we’ll find frogs in our walls. Evil, venomous frogs that will kill Gertie, since she is our first-born. Point is it’s getting absolutely ridiculous. I wouldn’t be surprised by anything at this point. It's sort of like the condo is magical, like living at Hogwarts.

Most of the time I feel like that one dude who always complains about everything. You know that dude, everyone knows that dude. The dude whose day is always worse than yours. Both of your parents could have died in a car accident but because that dude stubbed his toe, his day is magically worse. I’ve got some pretty legit complaints, though. I’d do whatever necessary to make this bad luck go away. I’m not proud of any of this, not badges of honor for me. I don’t care that this stuff makes me a tougher person. I’m tough enough.

And TRUST ME, I’m completely aware of how much worse it could be. I’ve got family that loves me, the greatest friends on the planet, a job, an adorable dog and a roof over my head (be it crumbling before the awesome power of Yahweh), among other things. I get really upset about life for about half an hour and then just start laughing. Because there’s nothing else I can possibly do. I’ve got a pretty great sense of humor, too.

All of these natural disasters has left little time for anything else. I was training for my job a ton in Norman but now I'm back in my office, already with more work than I can handle. I've gotten pretty good at leaving work-related drama at work, but it's creeping in again. I'm trying not to let it. I've been making an active attempt to spend time with friends after work and do more creative things.

I had a Tulsa-Day with previously mentioned Greg. We took in the aquarium, a bar fight, pub food and the Center of the Universe, which is this bizarre sculpture/”acoustic anomaly”. If you stand directly in the center of this unassuming concrete circle, you can hear your own echo, even though everything around you appears completely flat. Yeah, there’s an explanation for it but I wish I didn’t look it up. I liked it better when it was magical.

I also had a birthday in there. Hello, year 26. On which, I bought the new car. My dad was also in town for business and took me out for dinner. It was really great to see him, I’m quite happy it worked out. I don’t feel any older. I’ve been too busy to age. And blog. Lo siento. But at least I’m still funny. Here's a video of Gertie trying to eat the vacuum cleaner.

Settle in 'cause the road going west got drowned.

2010-05-18T17:59:00.004-05:00

Angie sometimes talks about George Lucas and when she does, she says that he's like her abusive boyfriend. Even though the Star Wars prequels were absolutely terrible, she went to see them, knowing they would be terrible, waited in line and sat through them. She kept coming back for more.

I am starting to think this is like me with Oklahoma.

Giant-shit hail (there really aren't any other words to describe it) tore through Oklahoma City (and the back window of my car) on Sunday. I thought to myself, "Hey, no tornadoes with this storm. Just hail. Awesome!"

THINGS ARE NOT AWESOME WHEN THE HAIL IS THE SIZE OF TENNIS BALLS.

It came down for about 10 minutes; me and Chelsey just watched in awe. Gertie was barking the entire time because she thought someone was knocking on the door and she really wanted us to let them in. By the time it was done with, it looked like it had snowed in the back yard. It was still raining, but Chelsey ventures out to explore our cars. And comes back delivering bad news. Not only did it get my back window,

It got my side mirror:

The top of my car:

The hood of my car:

Chelsey's back window:

And her windshield:

Our brand new vehicles, only months old, are basically scrap metal at this point. Every piece of my car suffered damage, with the exception of the front and rear bumpers, because they're made of plastic. Of the about 30 cars in our parking lot, I'd say 25 of them lost windows. All of the north-facing windows on our building were broken. Luckily, our condo's surrounded with walls.

Also impressive was the amount of leaves the hail took of the trees. No, that's not grass. Those are leaves. That's the court yard right outside my front door. If you haven't seen this video of hail slaying an Oklahoma City pool, I'd suggest you observe.

As I type this, I'm sitting in Norman, under yet another tornado watch.

All I have to say about that:

AW HAIL NO!

Sometimes I'm pretty funny.

And when I say that Oklahoma is my abusive boyfriend I keep coming back to, what I really mean is that living in Oklahoma has proved to be the most challenging year of my life thus far. But I'm smart enough to understand that these tough things were either A) something I brought upon myself and B) horrible, horribly, ridiculously bad absences of luck. So it's not Oklahoma's fault. It's no one's, really.

Which is why I keep coming back for more. (Look at me, making excuses for my abuser!)

Want to hear something about me that has nothing to do with me moving to Oklahoma or the weather? Okay. Listen to Banner Pilot.

Sea World.

2010-05-12T19:37:00.005-05:00

ANXIETY!

I don't know if you dudes heard, but they gots some swirly clouds in Oklahomah. Them clouds, they just get all fussy and spinny and then they dog-gone decide to drop down on some of them trailer houses. Y'all don't even know. Most people around here talk about the tornado outbreak of 1999 as simply "May 3rd tornado". People tell their May 3rd stories, where they were, what they were doing, etc. It's a lot like "When the plane hit the second tower, I was..." stories. Except most of them go like, "I just like, walked outside and there was a tornado on my lawn. So I went back inside and turned on my TV to see which direction it was going. So I could, you know, call my friends about it." PEOPLE IN OKLAHOMA ARE COMPLETELY UNIMPRESSED WITH SWIRLY CLOUDS. Anyway, the point of all this is that I think there will now also be "May 10th tornado" stories.

Here's my May 10th story: I was driving from Norman back to Oklahoma City. I thought I wouldn't have any problem, the clouds were dissipating, the sun was out. At about 4:15, I get on the interstate and Chelsey calls, telling me to hurry up and get home, the storms moving fast. So, I start hauling. Chelsey's pretty calm about storms so when she tells me to hurry, I hurry. Sure enough, about five minutes later, the sky looks like there's some horsemen dragging an apocalypse behind them. Worst part, I have to drive through Moore to get home. Now, Moore is sort of the joke-city of Oklahoma. Not only did it produce Toby Keith AND write his name on a giant water tower, it has at least one tornado a year. Never fails. Moore has tornadoes. And I have to drive through this place. Well hey there panic, haven't seen you lately.

People were driving like maniacs, which did not help. Weaving in and out of lanes, going 80 on the shoulder. I'm shaking out my hands trying to calm my nerves; I swear to God sweat was dripping off of them. It's raining, it's windy and I look up just in time to see clouds SWIRLING over my head. ARE YOU KIDDING ME. Luckily, I made it through Moore and back home just before the hail hits. I was lucky, friends. A lot of people weren't. I'll be spending a chunk of time on Saturday helping out a work-friend's family pick up trees and debris off their property. It's really pretty sad and pretty scary.

So, weather forecasts like this MAKE ME NERVOUS.

Tornadoes used to not bother me. I watched Twister in middle school. I thought it was pretty cool. One time, Albuquerque got a tornado warning. I remember being excited about it (but really, tornadoes in Albuquerque? Sure. With elephants in them). But here, it's a completely different deal. I knew when I moved here I'd be dealing with a considerable amount of weather. But there's really no way to actually prepare for that. I guess just get killer insurance and hope for the best. And maybe acquire a muscle relaxer or two.

I can tell you this: tornadoes have a smell. I told my parents it sort of smells like Newark; really humid and sort of metallic. I'd heard people talking about it before and thought it was pretty silly. But nope, it's a real thing. Also, the clouds look crazy for days after a storm like we had on the 10th. Like, it took the atmosphere so much effort to create what it did that it doesn't have the strength to reel it back in. If that makes any sense.

Before the tornadoes ravaged, Chelsey and I took a mini-break, first stopping for a night in Ardmore with her entire family. That was an absolute joy, as Chelsey's family has been dealt from pretty challenging medical cards this past year. The good news is that they were all there; brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews. Everyone was pretty pumped about it.

My favorite photography subject of the day was Caleb, Chelsey's nephew, as previously mentioned here. I'm proud to report I'm warming up a bit to kiddos in general (which is a great relief if you know what my current can't-blog-about-job), but it also appears I've made a genuine 4-year-old friend. He's a cool little dude.

After that, we took on Dallas for Ben Folds. And these are my few true feelings for it.

Okay dudes, I'm sure there's nice parts of Dallas. I've managed to have some fun there. Once. But me and Texas, we just don't get along. The worst part was definitely my visit to the Kennedy Memorial at the site of his assassination. I guess I got pampered in Oklahoma with its lovely National Memorial, but the memorial there is TERRIBLE. I'd call it disrespectful. A President died and the paint is pealing off the arc way on the grassy knoll. Not awesome, Texas. However, we had a great time, drank too many beers and ate too much Jack in the Box.

We stopped by the Hooters in the West End. Just for photos.

I love this girl.

I'm sure you all heard about the devastating loss the Thunder suffered a few weeks back. Bummed. I'm already waiting for next season, saving up money for season tickets. Until then, I've got Kevin Durant's twitter (I learned his favorite movie is Twister today) and new t-shirt designs from Tree and Leaf to tide me over.

But mostly, I've got hockey.

The Montreal Canadiens are having an amazing post-season. Tonight, I watched them knock out the defending Stanley Cup champions in a game 7. Earlier this month, the number 1 team in the NHL this season in a game 7. My boys are playing like champions. I'm enthralled. I can't even imagine what my family's humble homes in rural Quebec are up to.

Oh hey, by the way, I have one of those job things again. Same office, different work. AND IT'S PERMANENT. We all need national health care just to avoid the stress of choosing an HMO. Overall, I like it. I get to drive a lot. And of course, I can't blog about it.

I like that I can write 5 paragraphs about tornado fear and can only manage a sentence or two about my new 8 to 5. I guess I learned a long time ago that I wouldn't let a job define me. Wait, that's way too poetic. Oh. That's right. It's because I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO BLOG ABOUT A JOB I HAVE EVER AGAIN. With the exception of the El Rey. Thanks for letting me blog about your business, Kathy. You're a trooper.

I've decided I might only be capable of mega-blogs now.

Diamonds and gasoline.

2010-04-14T22:48:00.003-05:00

This is my grandmother in her garden, in front of her blooming apple tree. As she ages, seems to look more and more like Betty White by the day. And trust me, she's just as sassy. Grandma's great at dropping knowledge on you, as Grandma's should be. She can be a tad aggressive about it sometimes, but as I told her this past weekend, she's earned her soapbox. And she loves her soapbox. Grandma tells me I need to lose weight and start going to church. She also hates health care reform. This is a pretty typical Grandma position.

So, I spent my first weekend of unemployment hanging out with her, learning all about conservative wisdom. And West Texas. By the time I roll up on day 2 of my typical stays in Pampa, Texas, I'm pretty ready to leave. I mean, come on. It's west Texas. It smells like poop and diesel. But I've come to learn that I actually quite enjoy the bleakness of it all. There's a lot of beauty in being reminded you're so small. I told Chelsey that it takes a tough person to fall in love with the Midwest. As much as I love New Mexico, I've come to realize and embrace that Texas, that godforsaken state to the right (and now, to my left), is in my blood. I might not be that tough, but I'm genetically inclined for it.

Photos:

Also, I've got a major case of playoff fever.

And the only cure is more Broingtons.

An Oklahoma City team will be participating in its first professional playoff event next week and I'm quite excited. I'll be logging onto ticketmaster on Friday at 10:00 on the dot to try and get tickets, along with the rest of the state. No one seems to be giving the Thunder any kind of chance at winning against the Lakers, but I say don't count them out just yet. Oklahoma's never had a problem being an underdog.

I'm ready to go.

2010-04-08T12:53:00.001-05:00

I've decided I hate waiting.

My temp job’s officially over as of tomorrow. I’ve sort of become an expert at last days of work in the last year and the last week is always the worst. Your bosses always stop giving you work, let you take it easy that last week. So there’s nothing to do except sit there and wish your internet wasn’t monitored so you could job search. You’re just waiting for it to officially be over.

I’ve got a job interview tomorrow at the same place, more super secret stuff. I think I have a shot at it, but I’ve been told that before (about 60 times thus far in that building) so no hopes on it. I’m waiting for that too, getting more and more nervous about it each day. Mostly because I’ve got about 8 hours to sit in the very building it will be held and think about it. I wish you could get notified about interviews an hour before they happen. Just enough time to get pretty and get there.

Probably the thing I hate waiting for the most is for school to start again. Get me back to overpriced text books, conservative vs. liberal battles in anthropological theory and all-night study sessions. Get here, August 23rd. Can’t wait to officially be a Sooner.

I’m waiting for Gertie to behave better, for my next payday, to find out where the payday after that will be coming from, for lunch, for my afternoon walk, for the wind to die down, for the weekend, for the next time I'll be home, for the Tom Petty show on May 15th, for my birthday… it just keeps going.

I’ve decided I hate waiting. So I’m done. Time to start doing.

Got the stomach to stomach.

2010-03-29T17:42:00.002-05:00

Last night:

Meat falls off the bone.

2010-03-28T15:32:00.004-05:00

Want to know where I’ve been? Everywhere, really. Falling in love to the sounds of the city.

2010’s been kind thus far. Or as kind as it can be. Highlights of the first three months:

1. I bought a car. A CAR. I bought a car. Big hairy deal, friends. Never in my life have I had such responsibility before. It’s mine, for better or worse. Of course, a week after I buy it, it gets recalled. Of course! I’m not too worried about it, however. Ye old Toyota truck kept me safe and happy for almost 10 years (RIP Joan Rivers) so I had not a concern about buying another one. I ended up with a 2009 Toyota Matrix. I’m pretty happy with it, especially the power locks and windows. After 10 years of manual locks and a back window that would almost fly off the truck when you opened it, I’m excited to have keys that have buttons that make my car go BEEP.

Now, You might be wondering how I was able to afford such a vessel, as I have been rocking some financial stress recently. Well, true to form, Joan Rivers took care of me even after her death (RIP). State Farm gave me $8,300 for my truck, manufactured in 2000 with 200,000+ miles on it. I made the insurance dude repeat it about 5 times. Could not believe it. I was expecting maybe $2,000. It almost makes losing her that much more heartbreaking. She was a good ol’ girl. I still miss her fraying selt beats and the neon green silly putty stuck to the passengers seat. I can only hope she goes on to help lots of other baby Toyotas. Once again, RIP, fair truck, RIP.

2. Someone hit my new car. I know, I know, it’s fine, go ahead and laugh. I did. It’s hilarious just how much can possibly happen to my cars in a month. This time I wasn’t in the car. Oklahoma City had an ice storm back in late January and it basically shut down the city for 3 days. My favorite part was watching everyone freak out about it before hand. The lines at gas stations were ridiculous and you couldn’t find a loaf of bread or laundry detergent to save your life. Really, guys? Oklahomans laugh in the face in tornados. But ice storms, they don’t fuck around with their ice storms.

Anyway, I parked my car on the street, not in the parking lot of the condo complex, in an attempt to minimize the chance of something hitting it, AKA tree limbs and power lines which tend to fall down a lot in ice storms. However, I did not calculate the chances of another car driving down the road on an inch of ice and sliding into my parked vehicle, which is exactly what happened. As for when, your guess is as good as mine. I didn’t touch my car for 3 days because I didn’t want to wreck it and I was terrified to drive in bad weather after what happened to me and the truck in December. Pretty simple logic. When I did finally drive it, I went to Homeland to see if they actually might have some bread and sure ‘nuf, someone nailed my left front fender and didn’t leave a note. Thanks, dude.

It took me about a month and a half to get the money I needed for my deductible, but I did go ahead and get the damage fixed. So now she’s shiny and clean again. I’m just waiting for something to happen to it again. It’s such an abnormal feeling for me to now be driving a car that doesn’t have an effed up front end.

3. We had an ice storm.

I've learned pretty typical ice storm procedure is stay indoors and drink as much as possible.

So, this happened.

3. I made two trips back home. The first was back in January to actually celebrate Christmas with my mom, since I didn’t get to do that. It was a nice, mellow trip. I took a week off from work and treated myself to a plane ride. I spent most of my time in the mountains with family, but did have a very, VERY drunken night with Maria in there.

Her words: “You drank the whole bar.” My words: “It’s a miracle I was upright.” And thank GOD my phone battery died. Or you all would have been subjected to absolute torture. The good news is that I got about $20 worth of Golden Pride to cure my hangover. Bless you, Albuquerque.

The second trip was last weekend and far more eventful. On Friday night, Flood the Sun played their last show. But the big event of the night was Joel asking Ashley to marry him. I was in on it for a few days prior, but Ashley was completely in the dark. When I got to Burt’s, Joel told me it was my job to make sure Ashley stayed happy. He was worried that she might get emotional with it being the last show. I think I succeeded. The entire time Flood the Sun is playing, I’m about to bust because I know what’s coming.

And then, it happens and I do burst. It was so sweet and so perfect and Ashley had no idea what was about to happen until Joel was down on one knee. I’ve never seen the two of them smile like that. I get a bit misty thinking about it.

On Sunday, Emily Stone became Emily Kohen. It was quite the event. The wedding, the reception, the wedding party, the bride, they all looked beautiful. But probably the most beautiful part was seeing one of my oldest Albuquerque friends marry someone who makes her so happy. Emily and I have seen some days, we’ve had quite a few adventures together. We may not be as close as we once were, but I was really happy that I got to be part of the next great adventure in her life.

So, congrats and mozel tov to the Kohens and the soon-to-be Dickmans. That weekend melted my heart into a pile of goo.

3. I still have a job. And yeah, it’s still temporary and that’s still driving me crazy. But I’m trying to be content with what I have. It’s a paycheck after all. The great news is I applied to OU this week. So it’s only a matter of time before I’m signing up for classes and getting back to the academic life, something I am so, so, so excited about. I haven’t quite figured out how I’ll be combining school with work when they collide, but I’m also not worrying about it. I’m more concerned with being happy at this point and getting back in a classroom will make me happier than most anything else. I’m 17 credits of a BA in Anthropology. Part of me just wants to crank it out in a semester and live off a small student loan. Most of me knows I shouldn’t do that.

4. Remember the novel I talked about on here a few times? I started writing it in April of 2008. I wrote pretty consistently from then till about December of that year then I lost interest and I drifted off from it. I came back to it a few months ago, with new motivation, and actually finished it on the 25th. That’s right, I, me, little old me, has written a book. A BOOK. 441 pages of BOOK. I’m not one to be a show off, but I’m proud of myself. I’ve started noveling several times and I get about 100 pages in and completely lose interest. So I’m applauding myself for actually getting it done.

So, what’s it about? Good question. I’m not quite sure. Me mostly, I guess. There’s a lot about the fire in the Golden West, some of college, a lot about growing up. It’s fiction, but it feels like I wrote a memoir. Now, the book itself is total crap. And I’m not just saying that. It’s a mess of grammar errors, typos and fluff. A part of me wants to lock it away and never look at it again. The other part wants to dive back in and get it ready for public consumption; maybe put myself through the super-awesome and self-esteem building process of trying to get it published. However, I don’t think I have the confidence (or the money) for something like that at this point in my life. So, for now, I wrote it for me. It might just stay that way. Who knows. I’m just celebrating the accomplishment.

5. Gertie killed a bird back to January. This was horrible, absolutely horrible. By killed, I mean she slayed that thing. Left nothing for the taking. We’re still finding feathers.

The day of the incident, I came home and Chelsey was napping. I open her bedroom door to retrieve the dog and Gertie trots out. We go into my room and get on the iMac. Now, I can open my bedroom window and it’s low enough that Gertie can scamper out of it and into the yard. This is awesome late at night. So, Gertie starts scratching at the window to go out and I open it. As soon as I do, I see this sea of white feathers. I already know what’s happened. I close the window immediately with Gertie outside. About a minute later, I look out and there’s Gertie, sitting by the window, prim, proper and proud, with the dismembered carcass of what might have once been a bird at her feet. I make Gertie come back in and make her leave the bird outside. I wait for Chelsey to wake up and tell her the awesome news. We decide to remove the bird with a team effort; she holds open the bag, I drop the bird in. Normally, things like that don’t bother me. It’s just nature. I worked at a vet for a long time. But what Gertie did to that bird… was completely unnatural. It took us about 20 minutes to build up the courage to go out to the yard and get the bird. But we did it and screamed the whole time. Once it was in the bag, I just threw it over the fence. Bad move, I know. A kid could have found it. But dudes, I was beyond caring. We tried our best to clean up the feathers but it was almost hopeless. Pretty sure Gertie ate most of them.

On that note, Gertie has eaten the blades off of one of my razors and chewed up multiple lighters, meaning she’s also probably consumed lighter fluid. The puppy is indestructible.

6. Kenneth came for a visit. My first visitor in Oklahoma! It was quite the event, His bus got stuck in the East Mountains for 4 hours and delayed in Amarillo for another 3. He was supposed to get in Monday morning at 9:30. He got in Monday afternoon at 4:00. Poor guy. But we had fun. We didn’t do too terribly much, honestly. He loaded World of Warcraft on my computer and one night, I fell asleep to the sweet sounds of him typing and battling away. What a flashback it was. It was nice to just spend time with him, just watch a movie together, that sort of thing, the way we used to.

We also took in the National Memorial, the first time I’d been since I’ve lived here, a bit of downtown and Myriad Gardens,

which has some grossness happening.

7. I’m not the only one buying a car. Chelsey got a new Kia Forte back in January as well. My mom decided she was a little sick of being stuck in the mud and invested in a Rav 4 when I was visiting in March. The dealer was only going to give her $500 for her 1993 Corolla, something she was a bit upset about. So she said, “Does Kenneth need a car?” Me: “Uh, yeah.” Mom: “Okay, he can have mine.” Just like that. Mom’s pretty sweet.

Other than that, life’s finding a routine. Something that would normally upset me but after the chaos of last year, I’m pumped about it. I’ve been trying out several infamous Oklahoma eateries (see Mr. Spriggs, Eischens, Kendalls and the great onion burger war). I’m scared of the impending tornado season. I like vodka + soda a lot these days. I’m hoping to head to Dallas on May 15th for Tom Petty. I’ve been enjoying Sundays quite a bit, which normally includes brunch, Megan, mimosas, and Chelsey singing Lady Gaga at the HiLo.

Bonus Sunday activity. Or not. Depending on how you look at it.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ve been too calm and too rational recently. Like, maybe it would be helpful to lose my head a little bit, let the crazy girl run free.

2009.

2010-01-04T21:38:00.001-06:00

I told Murf sometime this summer that I thought 2009 would go down as the lost year in my life. And it probably will. 2009 will go down as the year I lost my grandfather, my home and my sense of economic security. I won't say that I lost Kyle, but his role in my life became something I quickly realized I was completely unprepared for. I also managed to end the year with a real bang of a loss: a totaled truck on an icy I-40.

I've spent 2009 in a blur of worry. I can honestly say I spent more time being concerned about my future this year than I ever have. I've questioned every decision I've ever made. I've missed home so, so much that it physically hurt. But, in that, I've never once regretted moving to Oklahoma. It still feels like it's where I need to be.

Somewhere in 2009, I managed to make a new home, find a new puppy, drive to Gainesville for the Fest and hear Bruce Springsteen play Thunder Road in Denver.

2009, you took a lot out of me. And I will not be sad to see you go. I've learned so, SO much this year. Maybe one day I'll look back on this year and realize that all I really needed was to get lost for a while to figure out where I needed to be.
But like I told one of the best parts of my 2009, Chelsey, I'm sick of self-discovery for a while.

Bring it on, 2010. I'm completely ready. I've got a good feeling about you.

Back with the streets I know.

2009-12-25T20:40:00.002-06:00

So on Wednesday, I went and registered my truck in Oklahoma FINALLY. I've been trying to do that for about the last 8 months, but I never got around to it. There was an issue with the title, I couldn't provide proof of residency, the list went on and on. But finally, Wednesday, I walked into the Tag Agency, walked out with an Oklahoma plate and proclaimed my truck to be an official resident of Oklahoma.

Apparently. This angered the Gods. Someone did not want me to have an Oklahoma truck.

I left Oklahoma City at about 2:00 and got into Amarillo right around 6. I call my dad and he tells me that I might think about stopping, the roads are starting to get bad. Well, I decide to keep going, I-40 felt okay. I past Vega, Texas and saw a Days Inn, but still the roads were okay, no moisture was coming down. And then, out of nowhere, like a giant thunder clap, the road turned into a sheet of ice. I slowed down to about 30 and felt okay for about a mile. Then I saw a curved overpass with a bridge and I know, just from seeing it, that bridge was going to be trouble. My truck is terrible in bad weather; there's no weight in the back of it so it really doesn't take much for my day to be ruined. I kept it steady, got about halfway up and then a gust of wind grabbed ahold of the back end of my truck. I don't remember a lot; I think I just closed my eyes and screamed.

When the car stopped, I was in the median, my car was completely turned around and my bumper had smacked the guard rail for I-40 east-bound. I'm shaking, but I get out of the car and actually survey the damage to the guard rail before I survey the damage to my truck. My bumper was moved about 3 inches to the right. It looks like someone took a sledge hammer to my bumper and just knocked it a few times. After surveying the damage, I get back in my car and decide to turn it around, so it's actually facing the direction I want to go, turned off the engine and called my mom to try and figure out what exactly to do. There was no way my truck was going to make it out of the median. As soon as I say, "Hi Momma", I hear tires squeal behind me. I look in my rear view mirror and watch a Jeep slam right into my truck bed.

That moment, those three seconds, were the scariest thing I have ever experienced. I literally had a flash in my eyes. It wasn't any kind of white light, but it was just completely blinding. I'm sure it was every, single nerve ending and muscle I had screaming the tensing, but really, I saw something. And I'm quite glad I didn't have time to process what could have happened in the moment.

What did happen is still on the level of unspeakable. The right corner of my truck's bed is smashed in a good 3 feet. The other car had about the same amount of damage, but on the left side. I guess the funny part of the story is the wrecking company DROVE my truck, half-bed and all, to the salvage yard. My engine's totally fine. But seeing her like that, all smashed up, man, was that ever a heartbreaker. I didn't take any pictures. There's just some things you don't want to remember.

The guy who hit was actually an alright dude. I felt pretty bad for him; he'd just bought that Jeep on Sunday. The wrecking company gave us all a ride to the nearest motel, the very same Days Inn I had considered stopping at, and I spent a very snowy and sleepless night in Vega, Texas. Dad and brother Chase came in from Tucumcari and picked me up the next day and here I stay. It's been good to be here hanging out with siblings. It's been just the right amount of excitement and relaxation; I don't have much time to reflex about things but it's not stressful.

Tomorrow, I'll head into Pampa to see Grandma and other families. Then Dad'll drop me off at the Amarillo airport on Monday where I have a super-cheap Southwest flight back to Oklahoma City (the thought of being in a Greyhound for 5 hours with how much my neck hurts is just a bit much to compute right now) and I'll pick up a rental car at the airport. That is, if I can even get into Oklahoma City. You guys got some snow or something?

Insurance will be evaluating Joan Rivers the truck on Monday, hope for good things cuz there's no way this girl can afford a new car right now. I'm just trying to wrap my head around all of it right now. Lots of people have called me in the past few days and I must apologize because I'm sure I haven't been making much sense. It sort of feels like my brain is running on a check list. But I appreciate all of you. And if there's one thing that reminds you of how lucky you are and how good the people in your life are, it's a massive car wreck. So thanks, friends. And hey, Merry Christmas.

And I always will be.

2009-12-17T18:58:00.003-06:00

I don't know how many of you have seen this holiday ad:

But this is pretty much the way me and my roommate feel about it:

Drink slow, drink slow.

2009-12-13T22:05:00.004-06:00

Lake Hefner, meet Gertie. Gertie, meet Lake Hefner. Alright. See ya later.

Gertie-dog really did almost get thrown into Hefner today. Chelsey and I were officially the people with the embarrassing dog. Gertie was people-chasing and car-chasing and bike-chasing and barking at everything she could. We were seriously the people you go home and tell your family about. "Margie, today I was out for a lovely bicycle ride around Lake Hefner and there was this dog... well, actually it looked more like a dingo. And its owners? They just could NOT control it. It was terrible. I felt so sorry for them." Well dude, it's a 6 month old puppy at a lake with dozens of people around. She's gonna be pretty excited. AND WAS SHE EVER EXCITED.

Ever think about that? Just how often YOU'RE the subject of conversation at someone else's dinner? I used to think about it a lot more, when I was attracting a lot more attention (when I was holding a bit more metal in my skin). I guess it's sort of vain thing to think about, but I do that sort of stuff all the time. I'll constantly tell stories about funny or interesting people I saw earlier that day. I hope that somewhere, I'm a great story that someone tells when they need a good laugh. Sort of like the story I tell about the guy who tried to sell me fossils (or as I heard, possums) at the Mississippi state lane. It's sort of nice to be notorious.

I'd love a vacation. Something tells me my quickie trip home for Christmas just isn't going to cut it.

A home I could call my own.

2009-12-10T22:09:00.004-06:00

Dudes, you just simply would not believe how big my dog is now. I guess it's to be expected, as she has officially crossed the 6 month mark (and with no lack of grace, mind you). She's so smart it literally almost kills me. I come close to cardiac arrest chasing her around the house when she knows it's time to go outside. True to her breed, she's a champ at herding me all over the place.

It's been cold here in the Ciudad (I'm starting a new thing, pay attention) and Gertie gets kicked out of the house during the day, so that she won't Gertiefy in here. You should see the zen garden she creates in the backyard. Point is, Santa Claus brought her a dog house for Christmas, as well as... a sweater. I've never been known to dress my dog. Annie had two articles of clothing: a rain jacket that Maria bought her which never stopped being funny to me, and a vampire cape I found at Walgreens for 99 cents. But, with it being so cold and Gertie having such short hair, it seemed like the right thing to do. I'll put it on her every morning before I leave from work and it's always off by the time Chelsey gets home. Who knows how she does it, but she's got it down to an art.

I'll stop talking about my dog after I tell you that Chelsey and I also bought her a name tag. after several intense conversations about what to actually put on the tag. We settled on, "Maybe the Gertie ate your baby!". I don't know if you've noticed, but we're actually raising a dingo. The tag makes me laugh every time I see it.

And since we're on the subject of wild animals...

"Oklahomans have enjoyed or cursed feral hogs in the southeast and eastern part of the state for several years. Although feral hogs are oftentimes considered free ranging livestock in these portions of the state, there are many pros and cons regarding their presence. Landowners, especially farmers, cringe at the thought of hogs becoming established in their part of the country. Many hunters, on the other hand, look forward to acquiring them on their favorite hunting grounds. To some hunters the hog represents a formidable trophy worthy of payment for hunting privileges. To some landowners, the combination of feral hogs and lease hunters makes having feral hogs on their property a bit easier to accept. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the feral hog will be around for a while, regardless of your opinion of them."

Alright. I pled ignorance on this, but feral hogs, razorbacks if you will, are real things. I remember working at the Capitol last winter and a certain representative pushing a piece of legislation called "The Feral Hog Control Act". I pretty much thought that was the funniest thing I'd ever heard. Like, really dudes? Little piglets trampling your corn? Poor southern New Mexican farmers. So then, I come to Oklahoma and I'm reading some new legislation that's about to take effect (actually trying to find information on this excuse for legislation) and what do I come across? "HB 2158 lets hunting businesses hire an airborne feral-hog sharpshooter."

So...

Let's just break this down. The state of Oklahoma adopted legislation that authorizes sharpshooters in helicopters shoot feral hogs. "House members voted 87-12 for a bill that authorizes the state Department of Agriculture to issue permits to property owners who already have a big game commercial hunting area license to manage "depredating animals,'' such as feral hogs." All you need is a license, some buck shot, a helicopter and it's huntin' season, y'all.

Naturally, hilarity continues. Until I start google-ing "feral hogs".

and this is the first image that comes up.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME.

The average weight of feral swine is 100 to 150 pounds, but depending on the region can obtain sizes in excess of 600 lbs. ARE YOU KIDDING ME. You're telling me there are pigs that can weigh 600 pounds? And I live on the same continent as them? Not cool. It's bad enough knowing how many alpacas there are in South America and just how easily they could just march on up here and destroy my life. But NO. Razorbacks are knocking on my bedroom window. I seriously just thought a "razorback" was just a silly mascot thing, like Lobo Louie. Or a unicorn. But. No. They're real. And they're here. And I live in a state where people can shoot them from helicopters. I guess that makes me feel safer?

I had a dream last night that feral hogs got into the condo by CHEWING THROUGH THE GLASS and ate all the food we had in the fridge. Chelsey screamed something about finding a helicopter and we both ran outside, except we were instantly downtown and feral hogs were running and squealing everywhere, and there were hundreds of helicopters flying overhead.

Safe to say, I've got a new phobia. And out, New Mexico, they're coming for ya.

And on the note of downtown OKC, I went to the Cuidad's (starting it) Museum of Art a few days back, which houses one of the largest Dale Chihuly collections in the country. Normally I could take or leave blown glass, but that stuff was pretty rad. I especially liked the anemones, because, well, I like anemones.

I also liked the museum because it was very much the sort of place were talking was embraced. So, so many museums you walk into and feel like you need to shut up, but coversations were all over that place. And even though I wasn't an active participant, I very much enjoyed the active space.

Other than wild beasts (Gertie included), life's been running pretty steady. Chelsey and I have been very much enjoying alcohol-induced testimonials on photobooth. Don't be surprised if we make you a video one of these nights, whoever you are. Words cannot express my gratitude over having such a fantastic roommate.

I like my job pretty alright; it keeps me quite busy. But I've been really good about not letting it stress me out and everytime I start to feel overwhelmed, I completely stop whatever I'm doing and let myself have an hour to get organized. This is helpful. It also wastes an insane amount of post-its.

My holiday plans are as follows: I'm leaving here on the 23rd, spending the Eve with Momma, driving to Tucumcari on the 25th to see Dad, heading to Pampa with Dad and co on the 26th, and I'll be back here on the 27th. Happy holidays, have a car ride. Not that I've ever minded that. I'm trying to plan a week to visit home sometime in January or early February.

In sports-related news, I wish the Habs would win some more games and I hope that both OU and OSU win their bowl games, because you can seriously feel football-related depression around here.

But the eatin' sure is tasty.

Oklahoma: Best place to be hungover since 1907.

I <3 TO FEST.

2009-11-05T22:02:00.005-06:00

Ten Fun Facts about The Fest! (and my trip across the South.)

1. Alabama is freaking terrifying at 4:00am.
2. Florida is 80 degrees in October and also 95% humidity all the time. Be still, my beating heart. No really, calm down Cat, stop panting.
3. The Fest is just as much ruckus as you've read it to be. I saw random pairs of underwear on sidewalks.
4. That said, it's really a brotherhood. If you pass out on the street (which I did not!), someone will always pick you up and help you out.
5. And that being said, the male:female ratio is about 9:1. I dunno, something about dudes liking bands that sound like Hot Water Music? And more so, the ratio of attractive males with beards and good tattoos:unattractive males is about 9:1. ONCE AGAIN, be still, my beating heart. (Such a stereotypical "girl who went to Fest" statement, but like I care.)
6. PBR tall boys are $2 everywhere you go.
7. Music never stops. There are warehouse shows, house shows, acoustic stuff in hotels until bars open the next day.
8. More cities need this. I know it's convenient in Gainesville with No Idea, but seriously. It's a great showcase for local venues and lesser known bands, but also a huge money maker for a city that normally doesn't make much on Halloween weekend because of the Florida/Georgia game being at a neutral site out of town.
9. I took VERY FEW pictures of actual music. The amount of people running around with D-80's and waving some sort of press pass was gross. I'm sorry, responsible press doesn't stand ON the stage WITH the band to take pictures. That's my one complaint.
10. I went to Graceland on the back, fulfilling a life-long dream. The staff told us awesome stories about Elvis and his buddies riding the horses and golf carts all over the property. I AM SURE THIS HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH NARCOTICS.
BONUS FACT. I had the most fun Halloween in my life history with the holiday. I'll be back next year.

And now, 10 fun fotos!

I repeat: Alabama's terrifying at 4:00am. We drove right by Talladega, or as Matt called, "Burning Man for rednecks".

Georgia.

Matt McHughes carries a man purse when he needs to distribute CDs.

Someone in this photo is drunk and someone else is high. TAKE A GUESS.

Jerry Jump is the best person on the planet.

Oh HELLS yes.

The amount of mirrors in Graceland is ridiculous. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH NARCOTICS. This is me and Jerry creeping some floral arrangements. See the corner for bonus Matt.

That monkey creeps me out. And I really like monkeys. But not that one.

ONCE AGAIN. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH NARCOTICS.

The amount of records and awards in that place would make Bono pee his pants.

And for that actual life-thing, I start work tomorrow. Dreading it, since I picked up some sort of Fest flu. But I normally feel this way before going back to work. And once I get back into the swing of things, I feel so much better than I did when I was unemployed.

I need a tie that says Satan.

2009-10-29T00:38:00.002-05:00

Good news! I got a job. Bad news, it's temporary again. But this time, it'll be for about four months.

BEST NEWS! The Fest in 48 hours.

I love the ocean.

2009-10-27T01:51:00.005-05:00

Today I:

Woke up with Gertie at 8:00am. And since she didn't want to go back to sleep, I watched a whole lot of Gilmore Girls.
Ate some Ramen.
Applied for some jobs.
Ate some toast.
Saw a kid fall of his scooter. Proceeded to laugh for a good 10 minutes. (Chelsey: "You should never have children.")
Took Gertie to the dog park. She was really excited about it. Please see the following image:

Ate Moroccan food at the Cous Cous Cafe, located within walking distance of the condo. Man, was it ever tasty.
Went to see Paranormal Activity and had a brilliant time suspending my disbelief and wanting to cry with fear.
TOTALLY saw someone getting road head at a stoplight on the way home. They weren't even trying to hide it.
Watched some Iron Chef.
Drank some tea.

And that brings you up to the current.

See, lately my days go a lot like this (well, minus the road head part...) where nothing too thrilling happens but I manage to have some fun. And when life's moving that slow, it makes blogging feel like running through mud. Really dudes, who wants to hear about the 20-millionth job application I submitted today? No one, that's who. And with facebook/twitter, it seems my exploits are well-documented on the internets. Makes me think that the actual blog might be quietly retiring and dying.

Oh, don't worry, I'll still come around. Me and about 5 thousand other people are headed east this weekend to Gainesville, Florida for The Fest. I plan on seeing about 100 good bands, drinking about 100 PBR's and spending about 40 hours in a car with Matt McHughes and his beard. I cannot think of a finer way to spend Halloween, especially after surviving two years of seasonal retail. It's the sort of event I think I might need another memory card for.

I can tell you this: While life's been somewhat bleak lately, drowning in a sea of unemployment and such, my trip home and the week or so after it have really opened my eyes. And what do I see, my friends? Just the slightest glimmers of hope coming through, and from the most unexpected of sources. Something tells me a weekend in a place I've never been to, surrounded by great music and complete madness will only wake me up more. Can't wait.

The faces, hands that I'm haunted by.

2009-10-21T18:03:00.003-05:00

Home in 10 images.

Back up.

2009-10-07T00:53:00.003-05:00

And continuing in tradition of positive blog postings...

People have the most creative names for wireless networks.

(It's important to note that my condo's network is "Ham is Good")

And please for you to meet Esteban, new friends Adam and Erica's cat. Most cats really do like having the base of their tail scratched, this is no secret. Esteban however, takes it to another level.

Humor's important.

Better off.

2009-10-06T16:33:00.001-05:00

You know, I could post about the trials and tribulations of finding a job, just how poor I am or other assorted less-than-fun items on rotation in my life-space. But I decided to go with this instead:

I'm just tired of waking up.

2009-09-15T21:45:00.003-05:00

Maria: "Dude, Robert Downey Jr. is at my work."
Cat: "SHUT THE EFF UP. Go meet him."
Maria: "I can't. They are making arm casts for him for a movie he is filming... he's tiny."
Cat: "He has to wear tall shoes a lot, I read. I'd still do him."
Maria: "Like tiny tiny. I would break him in half."
Cat: "Destroy my fantasy, why don't you?"
Maria: "You could throw him around, make it a NEW fantasy."

Who's gonna drive you home tonight?

2009-09-12T17:10:00.004-05:00

If you were wondering how Gertie's doing...

She's officially the size of a butterball turkey, a 14 pounder. About 12 pounds of that is cuteness and adorability, but those other two pounds of biting and crazy can sometimes outweigh the rest. But this is what a 4 month old puppy does, right?

Her biggest act of terrorism is definitely what she's done to the wicker love seat in the backyard. She's torn off the bottom part of it, but it's alright. Chelsey likes the way it looks now a little more.

Potty training is mostly successful. She has a few accidents a week, but nothing compared to most puppies I know. She's quickly approaching her 4 month birthday and she'll be getting spayed on October 1st. She's growing up so quick. I'm a little excited about it, to not have the chaos of a baby in the house, but I know I'll miss it once it's gone.

Chelsey and I are watching the MTV Video Music Awards right now, dissing on Kayne and loving on Taylor & Beyonce. The preview for Eminem's spng "We Made You" came on and Gertie started barking. Chelsey said, "That's right Gertie. It's a horrible song. It'll be over soon." Pretty classic.

So, I'm unemployed again. The temporary job, which I thought could make room for something more permanent, couldn't. Back to the couch once more, watching Maury. I am absolutely dreading the job search, but I'm trying to be positive and starting slow. I think applying for a job a day is reasonable. (I applied for 3 today.)

On top of job search, I'm taking an active interest in living better. Recently, things have just felt much more intense than usual. I have days where I'm just so excited about the options in front of me, it's overwhelming. And some days, I miss home so bad I can barely take it. Pretty sure that's just the reality sinking in. But something in that has made me want to get healthy. Chelsey got a bit of a scare when she got some blood work back this week, so her and I are starting a diet as recommended by her sister the nutritionist. I'm also getting back into the swing of exercising with taking Gertie for walks. She's starting to get excited about them, which is great motivation for me to do it. On top of that, I've been doing yoga in the mornings. I'm trying not to think about it in terms of weight loss, but it terms of wellness.

Hey, Jim Carroll died. If you love Rancid and the album ... And Out Come the Wolves you should be pretty sad.

On the east side of Oklahoma City, there are these huge towers. I'm not sure what they're for, probably radio, but they blink red all the way to the top at night. So instead of the Sandias, I get to use these as my guide. When I tell people back in New Mexico about them, they think it's sort of ugly and awful. But I don't know, I think I'm finding poetry in the symmetry.

Watching tail lights disappear.

2009-09-07T22:28:00.004-05:00

Oklahoma's downright enchanting to me these days. The air's getting colder, the sun's setting earlier and I can finally get away with wearing a hoodie in the mornings. Fall in New Mexico is sort of like a week-long change, it's like one day you wake up and it's officially Fall. Oklahoma eases into its seasons and for some reason, it's absolutely intoxicating for me. I've been doing lots of driving with my window down, with ruins my hair since I need a haircut pretty badly, but I'm not really here to impress anyone.

On that note, Labor Day weekend was splendid, at least compared to Memorial Day. One things for sure, I ate like a champ. Sunday night, I went to Tyler and Laura's wedding shower and there was so much food, I might have gotten a little sick. But it was all so good! Other friend Murf moved just down the street and invited me and Chelsey over for chili potatoes tonight. It's been a long time since I've eaten so well, I've been on a mac n cheese/ramen budget these days.

Digital trinkets:

One thing's certain, this is Chelsey's pose of choice when the camera comes out at Edna's.

After the wedding shower, Tyler and Laura headed out with Laura's school mate Sa to a White Party, since you know, Sunday was the last day you can wear white. It got pretty intense and we bailed early, but we dressed for the occasion.

Purple hung so low to the ground.

2009-08-27T22:34:00.003-05:00

I grew up around the Kennedys. I think one of the first "adult" books I read was a biography of JFK. I spent hours flipping through a photo book of Jackie Kennedy. I was always fixated on them, the idea of this perfect American family; such history, such tradition. While most 9 year girls I knew wanted to be Toni Braxton or Whitney Houston, I wanted to be a Kennedy.

The Kennedys are the reason I fell in love with politics. I wanted to understand them and that meant understanding politics. Mom & Dad set up the framework, sure, but what actually got me there was having a face to match. And I really do love politics. So much so, that when I was asked to work a Senator, regardless of much that Senator's political affiliation didn't match mine, I still felt a sense of duty to it; this was a chance for me, little old me, to make even a hair of difference, like the people I had read about. In fact, I don't think I can find myself happy in a job that doesn't include public service.

So, when the last member of the triumvirate joined his brothers, I got a tad emotional. It really is the end of an era.

And on a much less serious note...

Possums.

Chelsey saw one in the backyard about a week ago. Possums are things of foreign myth to this New Mexican and I'm very, very excited to spot one on my own. Chelsey tells me that they are very nasty creatures (evidence above). I'd still like to pet one.

If that scared you, I'll make up for it with adorable pictures of my wonderdog taking a bath and jumping on the couch. Proud parent, am I.

We must run.

2009-08-19T21:42:00.003-05:00

I've been going through old pictures lately, getting new computers set up and such. This one really struck me; the only thing I could think of when I saw it was, "God. I really miss that girl." Not that things are horrible now, not that things were great then, I guess I'm having a little difficulty identifying with the former versions of myself. Sometimes, I see my life in blocks instead of a line.

If that makes any sense.

Let's go shut it down.

2009-08-16T15:48:00.004-05:00

We decided the puppy needed a super Oklahoma name, since she's an Okie at heart (although, me and Chelsey have decided to teach her commands in Spanish and Latin, as well as plain English). We thought and thought about what to call her. We looked through lists of local Oklahoma celebrities, famous western cowgirls, street names, counties... pretty much anything. And then it sort of hit us like a brick.

Oklahoma, the Musical.

We named her Gertie Cummins. She's like the Janice of the musical. We picked it because we liked the sound of it, and now, more and more, she's exhibiting such Gertie-like characteristics. She's a loud mouth, and she MUST be the center of attention. But, what 10 week old puppy doesn't?

She's such a puppy. She loves her toys so much. And she bites feet like she's trying to herd people together. We took her to Lake Hefner the other night and she ran right into the water. She's absolutely fearless, unless it involves cars, and that's a phobia I'm glad she has. She'll ride in them just fine, but when it comes to walking next to them, she's ridden with anxiety.

It's exhausting, watching her every move. But I love the little pile of cuddle and urine. And she loves us too. I feel like a mommyblogger right now. And I worry that one day, Gertie will say, "Mom, why did you post pictures of my butt on the internet?". But until then, puppy pictures GALORE on this page of the internet.

But did you notice anything about the photo quality in that last picture? Like it might have possibly been taken in Photobooth?

It was.

I'm now the proud owner of not one, but TWO new Apples. Excessive? Oh, I tend to agree, but logically, it works out. Laptop's for when I start school again and the many traveling adventures I plan on taking in the next few years. Desktop's for storage and various creative projects. Dudes, after YEARS of absense, Final Cut Pro is up and working again. Remember when I pierced all of you for a stop motion movie that I never made? Well, now I shall make it!

It's very, very exciting to have a massive, new creative outlet again. And to have a laptop with a working "S" key that can run more than one application at a time. And on top of all of that, a puppy too. Life is new, new, new and full of stuff, stuff, stuff. But quite honestly, life feels a little like a Danny Winn song. If you know what I mean.

Job-stuff is still questionable. What I've got is only temporary and I interviewed for permanent on Friday. However, the state of Oklahoma has awesome merit tests and if you don't test high enough, you're out of the game. So, even though the supervisors love me and I'm super-good at my job, I probably won't get it. We shall see, though. If not, I'll probably start substitute teaching. And won't that be an adventure in blogging!

Finally!

2009-08-05T20:53:00.003-05:00

Hello.

Someone very, very mean left me in an alley last night. Luckily, a very nice lady who owns a local gallery found me and my siblings, took us to a vet and found us new homes. My new home is with two ladies in a fancy condo. So far, I like it. I already know where my food bowl is and that if I beg for food, I won't get it. I also tuck my tail between my legs when I eat. I have no idea why I do that.

I have no idea why I do that. But most importantly, I need a name. If my naming is left up to my mother Cat, she'll name me Gihad or Martha 'Grab my balls' Washington in Full Effect. Save me from such a fate.

They'll still be there tomorrow.

2009-07-26T15:47:00.002-05:00

Oklahoma:

Eric drinks his own pee.

2009-07-25T19:44:00.003-05:00

The workforce welcomed me back (finally) on Tuesday for yet another job I can't blog about. I think that I'll just have to accept the fact that I'll never be allowed to blog about another job ever again. But, so far, so good. It keeps me busy, if not a little mind-numb, but the days go by quick. It's in Midwest City, a whole 19 miles from where I live in OKC. Right now, that doesn't bother me, but it might start to get on my nerves in a while. It's nice to have a routine again.

By far, the worst part is getting up early. The Sunday before I started, Chelsey and I decided that buying a 20 pack of Miller Lite at 1:30am and killing it by sunrise was a great idea. An even better idea was going to the diner down the street, still drunk, and getting biscuits and non-chocolate gravy at 9am. Well, it was totally awesome, but as if my sleep schedule wasn't bad enough, that absolutely ruined it.

I can tell you that there was a chocolate party in the building I work on Friday. No reason, just a bunch of people decided to bring in chocolate. Dudes in Oklahoma like to eat. Someone brought in chocolate gravy, which completely blew my mind. I had no idea such a thing existed. Turns out, it's super popular in the south; people serve it over biscuits and dip bacon in it. WHAT. I guess it's sort of like when I try to explain xeroscaping or swamp coolers to people here. It just doesn't make sense. Now, the most important question: how was it? Well, I didn't dip any bacon in it, but it was pretty much like eating a chocolate muffin. With butter. I guess if people can deep fry twinkies, they can make chocolate gravy.

You better call Edco.

2009-07-13T21:14:00.004-05:00

My truck hit 200,000 miles on the way back from Albuquerque. Unfortunately, I was too distracted by construction to remember to take a picture.

In the almost 9 years I’ve had her, Joan Rivers has seen 2 oceans, 2 countries, 17 states, 2 provinces, 3 of the Great Lakes, the mighty Mississippi 4 times, countless oil changes, one entirely new front end, 2 additional new bumpers, 3 radiators, 4 batteries, 4 brake jobs, 5 new sets of tires helped move too many people to name. I normally get about 300 miles per a tank of gas, so dividing that by 200,000, then multiplying an average price of $27 for a tank of gas (and that's probably low-balling it), it means I've spent $18,000 on gas for her. Dear Lord.

Here's to my ultimate highway companion. And to her amazing ability to keep me safe, warm and out of trouble.

The flood is here.

2009-07-10T15:46:00.003-05:00

Everything will change.

Kyle and I are taking a hiatus. It’s no one’s fault, no one’s mad, and I know deep down, it’s the right decision for both of us. I’m trying to be as rational as possible, but all in all, it’s absolutely heartbreaking. That’s the hard thing about your heart; it’s pathetic at being logical. It's the sort of thing I'm keeping close, and not on a blog.

I spent last week in Albuquerque, remembering all the things I missed; summer nights with Ashley and Joel, the smell after a thunderstorm, Jennifer’s garden, Daniel’s giant bear hugs, potatoes from Olympia, Kate nachos, Maria’s tolerance for drunk people (Lord Calvert, you and me are officially over.), the mountains, Kyle Anaya’s off-color wisdom, the amount of discretion over marijuana usage (NONE), the accent and about a million more things. I sobbed and sobbed when I left. Felt like I left behind a lot more this time.

And back in Oklahoma, I got offered another job I can’t blog about. But it’s been a mess trying to get everything in order for it. I had to get my own background check. Also, the pay schedule is screwy, so I’ll still be dirt-poor for a while. I have to remember this is a job, not a career; a paycheck, not my life.

2009-07-01T00:53:00.001-05:00

In my hotel room, I'm wondering if you read that story too. And if we both might be having the same imaginary conversation.

They're all equal.

2009-06-29T05:12:00.003-05:00

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.

2009-06-26T15:26:00.003-05:00

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.

2009-06-24T23:33:00.002-05:00

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.

2009-06-20T18:25:00.003-05:00

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.

2009-06-18T17:57:00.002-05:00

See? I'm not completely retarded.

Your destiny may keep you warm.

2009-06-16T17:18:00.002-05:00

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.

2009-06-08T14:33:00.003-05:00

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.

2009-06-07T01:02:00.002-05:00

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

We'll keep singing along.

2009-06-06T23:22:00.004-05:00

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.

2009-06-03T12:12:00.004-05:00

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.

2009-06-01T01:30:00.002-05:00

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.

2009-05-23T09:45:00.004-05:00

Oklahomans take their weather casters very seriously. So seriously in fact that there's an official tornado watch drinking game asociated with one of them, Gary England

That's all I got.

Awesome. Awesome night.

2009-05-23T00:27:00.005-05:00

A lunchbox is a specialty drink served at a notorious OKC bar called Edna's. It consists of a shot glass, frozen into a beer mug, a shot of amaretto, filled with Coors light, and topped with orange juice. Proceed to chug. It is absolutely delicious and I cannot think of a finer summer treat. Expect for maybe the bloody Marys I've become a damn expert at making (olive juice, people!).

This is probably my favorite image of the past few days. It's Chelsey, acting like some sort of bizarre dinosaur, her high school BFF Murf and a very, VERY important neon sign. (Cat: "I know someone who's related to the family that owns Coors. Chelsey: "He needs to come visit. With beer.")

There's still a lot I don't understand here. I'm still jobless. And there are huge chunks of myself clinging desperately to New Mexico and all the fine people in it. The actual act of starting over is the hard part. Moving here, being here, that was the easy part. Creating myself here is more difficult than I ever imagined.

But with some new friends, some old friends and some lunchboxes, I'll get there eventually.

East Jesus Nowhere.

2009-05-17T03:23:00.004-05:00

Guess what! More blogging about weather!

OKC got about 3 inches of rain in twenty minutes on Friday night. Streets were flooded, cars were stalled out, all out mayhem ensued. I still found the courage to brave Tropical Storm Benny (since it was the second of the season and I watched Benny and Joon today) and go to drag night at the Hi-Lo. Good decisions all around.

Rain dance.

Bigger pictures of the torrential down pour if you care.

This video is priceless for several reasons: 1) Chelsey's sound effects when she splashes the water. 2) It's a pretty accurate representation of what happens when I start freaking out over the weather; Cat: "There's a tornado!" Chelsey: "There's not a tornado."

I wish I could say I was doing more with my life than freaking out over weather. But here's the thing: my rent's paid up until July. Job searching is much harder when that's taken care of.

Do the right thing.

2009-05-14T16:31:00.005-05:00

Look who survived her very first tornado warning.

Sirens went off at about 10:30, as Chelsey and me were watching Twilight (I know, I KNOW). I promptly freaked out, Chelsey laughed, and we turned on the weather, which told us the "tornado activity" was in the southern part of the city, almost 20 miles away. No matter, between the wind, the rain and the radar, that crap was scary.

Video of the craaaazy lightning:

It didn't effect Chelsey at all. I don't know, I guess it's a regional thing. I can eat anything spicy, but Chelsey's not scared of tornadoes. Yeah, same thing.

Still no hot water. brb, braving coldness in the name of clean hair.

Driftwood.

2009-05-13T19:05:00.002-05:00

So, last night me and Chelsey went out for $7 All You Drink Killians at her favorite bar, the Hi-Lo. When we left, it became clear that the wind was getting pretty intense. We went to Whataburger and the lights started flickering, which made Drunkie Cat assume that there HAD to be a tornado somewhere close by. We get back to the condo and what do we behold, but:

God hates Fords.

Yeah, that's a transformer and a power pole through a Mustang.

Completely destroyed that car.

The good news is I live with Chelsey and she's super good at storms in Oklahoma:

Look at her already clearing the damage!

It reminds me a lot of this glorious photo, taken on the Gulf a year after Katrina:

LOLing in the face of destruction.

The bad news is the storms are only supposed to get worse. They're talking about flash floods, 80+ mile an hour winds, baseball size hail and dare I say tornadoes until the early hours of the morning. So, I'll probably be spending most of my night listening for sirens and hiding in my bathtub. I remember when Albuquerque had a tornado watch about a year ago and thinking it was super cute. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. But here, dudes, I've never seen clouds so low. I'm trying hard not to freak out, but it's scaaaaary.

More awesomeness: That power pole that killed the Mustang also killed most of the electrical in our complex. We didn't have power for 6 hours this morning and we won't have hot water until mid-day tomorrow. This is unfortunate because in my drunken excitement over taking pictures of the carnage last night, I slipped and fell on a puddle of some sort of goo (which I am now reading was probably coolant from the transformer). And when I mean fell, I mean I was leveled before I even knew what had happened. Pretty sore today. And sticky from transformer coolant and the Sprite I dropped when I feel. I could really use a shower. It would be pretty awesome if I got called back for a job interview tomorrow.

Also, little sister qualified for the FINAL of the 100m hurdles at the NM High School State Track and Field Championships. She raced in the prelims today and had the 5th fastest time in the state. She's only a freshman!

Days turning into nights.

2009-05-12T01:08:00.001-05:00

Selections from the Cat Vanderpool American Gothic series on outdoor furniture:

Chelsey and myself celebrating the splendors of moving: the Pier One discount section, new coffee makers and tea pots.

Me and Momma celebrating her 24th Mothers day as my Momma (25 if you count the one in utero. In case, you have not formally met the giant orangutan, her name is Suzanne. YES, obvious Kevin Smith reference, but this is taken from Mallrats, not Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. She dates back to the Hallmark year and is the largest, single purchase I made the entire time I worked there. Her and Russell Stover jelly beans (be still, my beating heart!).

I've lost my voice again. My Dad's convinced the El Rey has given me some sort of mold, which I don't entirely rule out, seeing as I don't seem to get sick until I work there for a night. I'm presuming it's allergies; it has to be by this point. I've been sick for the better part of two months. Definitely some unique symptoms, though. I'm considering going to a free clinic in the next few days just to make sure, you know, Swine Flu hasn't mutated with Haunta Virus and created Haunta Swine. (NAME YOUR BAND RIGHT NOW.)

MOLD:

Yeah, the Rey's got some of that.

You know what else had some of that? The house on Princeton after the roof collapsed. Man, I really loved that house. But post-roof collapse, I got in the habit of sleeping with a blanket over my nose and mouth (something I still do) just because I was so scared about what I might have been breathing in. And now that I look back on it, it really is a miracle me and Kenneth didn' get some kind of bizarre disease. OR MAYBE WE DID and it's just been dormant all this time. In my lungs, hanging out, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

Point is, contemplating lung-mold is much better than job hunting.

I left Oklahoma and the sun was out. I went back to Albuquerque, watched Flood the Sun release a CD and kick off a tour, did some minor car repairs to my stupid-crap battery, worked a shift at the Rey (O'Niell's staff came in and they were awesomely generous tippers. Thanks for remembering me, ladiez!) and bought my mom a McFlurry. 48 hours later, I come back and we're back to low clouds and thunderstorms forecasted for the next week. Unbelievable. It does keep things cool, though. It's not that I mind the weather, I always loved rainy Raton summers. It's just that I'm completely not used to it. Humidity is a beast this desert gal is not yet prepared for. I'm glad I have a temperate May to transition me into the muggy summer.

Lake Hefner is a 2580 acre impoundment completed in 1947 and operated by Oklahoma City. Water is bought into the lake from the North Canadian River and from the Canton Reservoir in Blaine County.

It is also a mile and a half from condo. Hello hello, summer.

Pay the phone bill.

2009-05-07T14:25:00.004-05:00

Raton's cute. I got a text message from Mark about a week ago, telling me he interviewed someone from Raton in his office. I didn't quite know her, but as it goes with people from Raton, I knew of her. Anyway, I get a message on facebook from her yesterday telling me about meeting Mark and that she went for another interview at the tech company I worked for when I started high school. Whaaaat? Congratulations New Mexico, you've done it again.

Speaking of, headed home tomorrow. Flood the Sun's releasing a CD and kicking off a tour tomorrow night, I'm working at the Rey on Saturday and somewhere in there, I need to burlesque a bit with Sarebear. Quick trip, but a necessary one.

Oklahoma's still treating me well. The sun FINALLY came out yesterday; the first time I'd seen it for longer than five minutes since I moved. I've located a Bank of America, a Walgreens, a Target, a gas station, a liquor store and a Taco Bell. All in my neighborhood. You know, the basics. No jobs yet, but Chelsey's still nailing it.

I miss desert air.

Leaving you with nothing.

2009-05-04T01:10:00.005-05:00

New roommate Chelsey is proving to be the new queen of one liners:

Cat: "Is that the bag of Garrett's stuff?" (Stuff that needs to be returned to an ex-boyfriend)
Chelsey: "Yeah. I wanna pee in it."

And on a separate occasion:

Chelsey: "All I can think about when I hear the Postal Service is a fat, naked man." (I could explain the context, but quite honestly, I think it's better if I don't.)

Today, I successfully navigated myself to the neighborhood mall, then to the Pottery Barn inside the mall. On the way out, I found a lady's credit card and spent 15 minutes trying to find an information desk to return it to. Once I was done, it seemed pretty pointless. If I lost a credit card anywhere around a mall, I never would think to call the mall and see if anyone returned it. But, I've got no need for bad karma at this point. I also went to Walmart, which is nearly across the street from the mall, but it takes 20 minutes to get there. Once inside the Walmart, I spent 20 minutes looking for Laughing Cow Mini Babybel semisoft cheeses.

Anyway, spent most of my day looking for things. But once I found them, I felt pretty good about myself. My feet are shaky here, and I miss knowing where everything is. But today's moderate excursion made me feel like I was making progress.

The weather outside is weather.

2009-05-02T21:58:00.003-05:00

I live in Oklahoma now.

I've been busy since I've been in Oklahoma. Wednesday: I got in, narrowly outrunning a huge rain storm and getting pulled over by an agent of the Oklahoma Bureau of Narcotics. Apparently, I was "drifting off the road". My true crime, I'm sure, was carrying a mattress and having out of state plates. Lesson #1 about Oklahoma: They have a Bureau of Narcotics that gets enough money to hire agents to patrol highways. Thursday, I went with Matt to Tulsa to watch him record some vocals with the infamous Stephen Egerton and saw a midnight showing of Wolverine. Friday, I went to an MC Chris show, then a drag show, and then a house party where there was a 3 month old cocker spaniel puppy. HEART MELTED. Today, I saw John Moreland and the Black Gold Band play at the Oklahoma History Center. Somewhere in there, I found time to unpack my life into a new room.

I haven't had a whole lot of time to think about leaving. I feel a little delicate, a little like I'm just waiting for the brick wall. I haven't really gotten to the point where I'm missing things a lot, with the exception of Kyle. Miss him like deserts miss the rain. But all in all, this move feels really calculated. Almost routine. I'm not sleeping well, my body misses desert sleeping. This humidity is a lot harder to take than I remember. And it's not even summer yet.

It's been overcast and rainy since I got here. Everything's so incredibly green and clean-looking. The clouds are ridiculously low all the time. It's compacting, but it's still got that midwestern feeling of limitless at the same time.

New roommate Chelsey is an absolute dear. She loves Oklahoma so much, so she's not only making a special effort to show me around, she's also sympathetic about when I do miss home. And our place is great. Pictures to follow shortly.

No job yet, haven't been looking too hard. I'm sure when that freakout comes, it'll be massive.

I've got a giant oak tree in my new backyard. When the wind blows, which is pretty often, it sounds nothing sort of magical. My only regret is that I can't climb it.

2009-04-28T12:44:00.001-05:00

Can't take a picture. It's already gone.

Clouds roll by.

2009-04-26T22:23:00.002-05:00

Update: I no longer enjoy skateboarding neighbor. He came within inches of skateboarding INTO the passenger of my MOVING car today. Put your foot down, bro.

Throughly prescreening matches.

2009-04-25T16:53:00.006-05:00

Rainy 'Rey.

I haven't really wanted to have some sort of grand send off before I move. Nor am I really making it a point to say goodbye to people. Because dudes, I'll be back in 9 days. Just seems a little foolish to get all sappy and emotional. I've already cried enough for the whole city. And there's only more to come. No point inducing EVEN MORE. I told both Kyle and Mattlahoma that they both will probably be dealing with a whole mess of crazy. I felt no need to warn Chelsey or any of my lady friends, because we've all been there, that's for sure.

The major bummer today is that the bar in my closet collapsed last night. So I spent most of my afternoon picking up clothes, re-hanging them, then plastic-bagging them. By the way, the best way to move clothes is to treat a trash bag like a garment bag; pick up about 10 hangers, shove them in a bag and tie the bag around the top before the hook of the hangers. Genius!

So, life's a little messy and a little blank. I'm just not a fan of having my life in boxes and bags. Suffocating! Luckily today I discovered the Oklahoma Humane Society website. DID I MENTION Chelsey wants to get a dog?!? Heart is melting as I type. I'm going to try to talk Chelsey into going dog hunting next weekend.

Little step-sister Rachel qualified for State in the 100m hurdles today! On a time trial, even. And she's only a freshman. Git it, gurl!

Hanging out down the street.

2009-04-22T02:01:00.004-05:00

I'm delicate these days. It's like PMS times about 5 billion. Anything sets me off. Sappy television, bad drivers, things not fitting properly in boxes, etc. Kathy called me this morning and ripped into me about a mistake I made on Friday and it left me in shambles. I'm normally pretty good about brushing off work drama, since it's resolved in about 5 minutes, but that was the first time she's actually made me cry.

I told Kyle tonight I'm glad I'm like this though. It's good that I deal with it and get it out, rather than crashing when I get out to Oklahoma. I think it'll be shock enough just living in a new state (and timezone...). My last official day of residence in New Mexico will be the 28th, one week away. But I'll be back the weekend after for FLOOD THE SUN'S TOUR KICKOFF at Burt's on the 8th. Unless I get a super awesome job that makes me work that weekend. Same goes for Memorial Day.

I found Amy Upah's XBox when I was packing up my room today. WHOA. So, if anyone knows how to get ahold of her... I think she might have relocated to another planet.

Anyway, thank God for the scene in Zoolander where they're trying to turn on the computer.

Without the sun.

2009-04-21T02:37:00.001-05:00

+

=

Do I look different? BECAUSE MY LIFE IS FOREVER CHANGED.

But, for the serious, Springsteen was super awesome. My only regret is that I could barely talk the entire time I was in Denver, thanks to this super nasty viral infection (it's STILL hanging out and ruining my days). Towards the end of the show, I started feeling really, really woozy. But then he played Born to Run with the house lights on.

Other highlights include mother effing THUNDER ROAD during the encore (Cat and every other person in that venue about DIED), the religious experience of The Rising and the Recession Anthem of Youngstown. Performance wise, that song owned it. And hey, remember when he played Glory Days? All in all, great show. The thing about Bruce Springsteen is that it's blindingly obvious how much he loves music, how much he loves his job, and yet, how lucky he is to have it. The man doesn't appear to take anything of it for granted. And it's nice to have a reminder of that, sometimes.

It was a quick trip. We got into Denver on Thursday night, late. We spent Friday during the day huddling around the Pepsi Center, eating at Illegal Pete's, then face-rockage. Saturday, we got up, ate at Smash Burger, and drove home. But, I couldn't have asked for a better time or better people to experience it with.

Since then, I took a load of stuff (including my tornado shelter of a metal desk) to OKC and spent a few days with my grandma in Pampa. Yum, Pampa. My time as a full-time resident in New Mexico is quickly coming to a close and trust me dudes, I'm really sad about it. The tears started tonight; just thinking about all the people I'm gonna miss. I know that I need myself that I won't be far and everyone I know and love is merely a phone call away. Or an 8 hour drive.

Well, I knew this wasn't gonna be easy. But, I'm glad I'm doing it.

And now, the awesome story about some dude at the El Rey asking when my baby was due. I'm tending bar and this middle-aged man walks up and wants 3 bottles of water. While we're waiting for his credit card to go through, he says, "When are you due?" I almost don't hear him, but I think I'm more shocked than anything else. "Excuse me?" I say. "When are you due?" he asks again. This time I hear him clearly, and I'm sure it reads on my face the amount of distain I'm having over the conversation. "I don't think I heard you right," I tell him, completely giving the guy an out to an awkward situation. He points to my stomach and says, "When is your BABY due?" I try really, really hard to be polite, as this man is a costumer and Kathy's about 15 feet away (and laughing hysterically, by the way) and I say, "Oh, I'm not pregnant, actually." The dudes response? "Well, you're wearing a maternity top." NO WAY, dude. I'm wearing a dress with a high waist. Kathy jumps in then and says something about it being the style and I make myself look busy. The guy makes another comment about how the TOP made me look like I was pregnant and walked off, without APOLOGIZING or TIPPING ME. Seriously. Worst man in Albuquerque.

We can be happy.

2009-04-17T16:55:00.003-05:00

There's a kid, he can't be older than 13, who skateboards in front of my house. He's pretty new to it; he just sort of scoots around and tries to ollie off the curb. He never stays longer than half an hour. But dudes, it takes every ounce of my being to not go out there and be all, "Hey. Want some water? A cookie? How long you been skating? Have you seen Yeah, Right? Wanna be my friend?"

Lots more to talk about, but that's about all that matters right now.

Tramps Like Us.

2009-04-09T01:04:00.004-05:00

I remember winding through the canyon with my mom when I was a little girl, listening to Born to Run. Mom is, of course, from New Jersey which makes her a huge Springsteen fan, just by default. But, she also had the experience of leaving New Jersey, something Bruce sings about. Just a little bit.

Anyway, Mom couldn't be prouder that I'll be spending Good Friday with 20,000 Springsteen fans in Denver. Every time I tell her I'm going out of town for some sort of concert, she just sort of smiles and says, "That sounds like fun. Make sure you're safe". But when I told her about this trip, she got a little bit silly-happy on me.

I'm a bit silly-happy about it too.

So, I leave for Denver tomorrow, see Bruce on Friday, come back home on Saturday, drive to Oklahoma City with my desk on Monday, drive back through Pampa on Wednesday and hang out with Grandma til Friday. This is what you do when you're unemployed.

While I'm gone, please to enjoy a Japanese TV host grabbing Wolverine's package.

Wall and Piece.

2009-04-06T22:11:00.003-05:00

Gross, head cold. brb, poping my ears for the 5billionth time.

It's interesting the things you collect. I keep finding little trinkets in my room and knowing I saved it at some point for a purpose and now I cannot remember why. I get scared about throwing things away. Who knows, maybe in two years I'll remember why I saved that piece of paper. But, I really am trying to make an honest effort to get rid of things. It's acceptable to hang onto college notebooks and textbooks, right? Especially if you're planning on going back to school?

So far, the bookshelf and desk are packed and ready for their new home. And I still have 23 days to vacate. 3 WEEKS? Scary! Thinking about moving makes my heart beat fast, like a new crush. I'm really nervous about it, really scared about it, but excited at the same time.

Speaking of leaving, my boyfriend's totally one-uping me and going to Argentina for a year. He leaves in August. When he got his official acceptance letter from the University he's going to, Palermo, I got a little weepy, but mostly I'm just super excited (and jealous) for him.

I took a mini-drive last night; up Paseo all the way to Taylor Ranch, down Montano to Coors, Coors to I-40 and back home. It was one of those drives where everything looked really clear. If that makes any sense.

Don't be scared.

2009-03-29T23:15:00.003-05:00

The Get Up Kids are an American indie rock band from Kansas City, Missouri. Formed in 1995, the band was a major player in the mid-90's indie rock scene. As they gained prominence, they began touring with bands such as Green Day and Weezer before becoming headliners themselves, eventually embarking on international tours of Japan and Europe. They released most of their albums on Heroes & Villains, their own imprint under Vagrant Records that also put out records from bands like The Anniversary, The New Amsterdams and Reggie and the Full Effect. Like many early emo bands, The Get Up Kids came to dissociate themselves with that label, as it came to be seen as insult to be known as an "emo band." The Get Up Kids were viewed throughout their existence as a prototypical "emo" band, having been major players in what is commonly considered the "second wave" of emo music.

The summer I turned 16 is still one of the most influential of my life. 2 days after I finished school, I boarded a plane and flew to England. I spent the next two weeks on the British Isle. I actually celebrated my 16th birthday in Scotland at Lock Ness Lake. 2 days after I came home, my boyfriend of nine months, my first serious relationship, dumped me.

I spent most of the summer wallowing in the divine misery of my first love lost. Most days, I woke up and went straight to Stancie's, where both of us tried to make sense of it. At the time, I could imagine life getting ANY worse than the way I felt. This was it, rock bottom. And in a way, it really was. Sure, I'd find other dudes to ruin me, but they all feel different than the way that summer felt. I could not see the light at the end of the tunnel, no matter how hard I tried. Probably because when you're 16, there's even barely a tunnel. If that makes any sense.

Now, I don't blame the boy, one known as Jesse, for what happened. God no. I can figure it out now, how much of that crap was self-inflicted, just how personally I took everything (but again, this is what you do when you're 16). In fact, I almost thank him for it. God, how badly I needed to go through that, to know what that felt like, to torture myself so much. It really was such a quintessential experience, I wouldn't give a minute of it back. I learned so much as a direct result of Jesse.

He probably has no idea of that, I barely talk to him any more. Every now and then, I'll sent out an email and get a response. We shared the most awkward phone call of my life about a year ago. But other than that, we're pretty much strangers now. He lives in Washington state now. You can listen to his music here.

But the point of this story is that Jesse introduced me to a lot of music. I was on the verge of punk rock, but Jesse threw me into it. He also got me into ska. And on one of the few days I saw him during that summer, I told him I wanted some new music, I missed getting CD's from him. I remember him being sort of annoyed about it, probably because I rarely gave back the CD's he lent me, but he went to his car and gave me a copy of The Get Up Kids' Four Minute Mile. He told me something along the lines of, "I think you'll like this. You'll probably identify with it."

I don't think he meant it in a good way. Even by that point, in the year 2000, there was a well-established back lash against emo. But all it took was one listen and I was completely hooked. I don't think that CD left my mom's car stereo for a solid month.I was a little embarrassed about it. I didn't exactly know what emo was, but I knew I wasn't supposed to like it. But, I did. I really did.

I'll come back to that record now, when I'm feeling a bit lost, and it still resonates with me. 9 years later and on the brink of a huge change, I find reasons to sing along as loud as I can.

I hope I find my home
And I hope you’re the first one in it.
I know it won’t be the same.
I’ll be there if you need anything at all you want to be.
Run around the world with me.
State your distance but it’s not a million miles away.
If this is what will really make you happy…
Then I’ll say that we’ll be...

Old enough to know better, young enough to pretend.

P.S. In 2005, The Get Up Kids announced that after ten years they were calling it quits. The group disbanded after their sold-out farewell show at the Uptown Theater in home town Kansas City, Missouri. However, in November of 2008, the band officially confirmed the re-release of Something to Write Home About (also a damn fine album) and a 2009 national tour to celebrate the 10 year anniversary and re-release of the record. (!!!)

All about us.

2009-03-27T02:56:00.001-05:00

Nacroleptic Dogz

Bring the lolz

When I found out.

2009-03-25T19:58:00.004-05:00

Of all the people in the world they could have picked to make a live action film based on Where the WIld Things Are, I think they totally picked the right one.

She's gone to the movies.

2009-03-23T21:35:00.006-05:00

Can someone PLZ explain BrokeNCYDE!!! to me? They're from Albuquerque? I have no idea who these people are... I mean, I'm no scene expert (swoopz hair and pullz up leggingz), but I think I know a bit about local music, as I work at a venue. And it's like these dudes came out of nowhere. Normally, you see the same dudes in bands over and over, but none of those dudes look familiar at all.

Not only that, but I feel like I deserve an actual explanation as to why they exist. Or perhaps an apology.

Marky said they called up the El Rey a year or two ago and wanted (demanded) to play. When Marky tried to explain that local shows are in the (late) G-Dub, they said they would sell out the El Rey in a matter of minutes. Marky proceeded to put them on hold, listen to their myspace and almost choke from laughter. Needless to say, they did not receive a booking.

My all-time favorite punk rocker blog belongs to Brendan Kelly, of The Lawrence Arms. His blog, Bad Sandwich Chronicles includes many fascinating stories about strip clubs and tips on getting b-jobs. He recently blogged about BrokeNCYDE (here & here) and it is literally the first time I've ever clapped while reading a blog.

But RLY. Who are YOU, BrokeNCYDE?!?!

NPH, you remain ABQ's proudest son.

But it rang and rang.

2009-03-22T22:30:00.004-05:00

BOOM. Work's over. I celebrated by drinking beer with Marky and eating Taco Bell. Last night, I slept for 11 hours. So glorious I can barely talk about it. All in all, it was a great little job. I learned a whole lot and I hope they'll want me next year, if I can come back.

Fear over unemployment hasn't set in yet. Only relief over not working 18 hours a day. The few days I've had between marching up to the Governor's office to turn down the job and now has only sealed the deal that I made the right call. I can't believe I was freaking out so much over it. (Now, ask me about that when I'm broke in OKC.)

I'm starting to take stock of my posessions; what I want to take, what I need to take, what I should get rid of. I honestly don't have that much. A speedy move out of the Princeton house took care of that.

You know, I've got some dreams up my sleeve. I might never get there, but I can't help but feel like I'm heading in the right direction to turn them into reality.

My step brother signed up to be one of the few, the proud, the Marines. It's personally a little scary for me, but he came to the decision on his own. Can't be anything but confident in him about it.

The East Mountain Triple Homicide hits a little close to home for me and Kyle, as one of the victims was my cousin-in-law (not at the time...) and it happened at Kyle's old bus stop. I think the trial's left both of us feeling a little left of center. Especially the fact that Brandon Craig's going to get away with it. Looks like money can buy justice.

Riding fast and living slow.

2009-03-20T17:19:00.002-05:00

Dear friend and major Republican Tom Schelby is now officially in Kuwait and I will miss him terribly, as Tom has become quite the pal over the last year. I'm also intensely jealous of his big time adventure. Last week, he "learned how to evade capture if caught behind enemy lines".

I think one of the reasons me and Tom buddied up so much is because we're sort of in the same place right now. While Tom is far more professional than I, I think we both struggle with the responsibilities of adulthood. But more than that, we're fantastic at fooling people about it. There's this line from Elizabethtown, where Claire Colburn tells Drew Baylor: "Do you ever feel like you're just fooling everybody?" Drew Baylor replies: "You have no idea."

I feel like that about all the time. Like, everything I am when I'm at work is nothing but a giant act. There's a part of me that still feels like I'm completely not cut out for this, that there's something else I need to be doing. I'm sure a huge chunk of that is just my complete reluctance to admit I'm an adult now, and there are certain things I just can't get away with anymore. The thing that scares me the most is that maybe I really am a grown up, I am a professional, and the only person I'm fooling is myself.

Tom threw complete caution to the wind, took a job with the American Red Cross, and moved to Kuwait. I feel like that same sort of decision is staring me in the face and I can't commit to a side. Responsibility or adventure? Safe or scary?

I found such relief in punk rock in high school. In that culture, really. At its heart, that's completely what punk rock has always been about; throwing caution to the wind and doing what really makes you happy. I've never really lost that part of myself, regardless of how different I am from the 16 year old I once was, with her green hair and yellow pants.

Point is, I got offered a big deal professional job in Santa Fe. A job at the Governor's office, with fancy benefits and a decent enough salary. Even though I've been planning on moving to Oklahoma, where I have no job, but a great room and a great roommate. I even set a deadline, May 1.

I had no idea what to do. In fact, I've spent the last week of my life in a completely melodramatic wasteland. This is in part, due to the amount of sleep I haven't been getting and 80+ hours I've worked already this week. But for every reason I found to take the job, I found one just as compelling not to. And the same goes for Oklahoma.

The thing about staying here and taking the job in Santa Fe is that it would be so easy. There would barely even be a transition. I'd even be working in the same building. Honestly, the thought of going to Oklahoma, even after all this time, scares me. And why shouldn't I be scared? Moving, changing jobs, leaving home, all that is scary, scary stuff.

When I talked to Tom about it, he told me I should turn down the job. He said, and this is probably the grandest quote I've received from all of the advice I've gotten in the last week, "I'm 25 years old and I still want to be a spy."

Kenneth told me to flip a coin. I did, and it told me to go to Oklahoma. That scared me just as much, leaving something that serious up to chance. I needed to be strong enough to make that decision on my own, without a coin. Because of all the factors influencing it, I'm the biggest. I feel like this choice says a lot about the risks I'm willing to take. Do I play it safe in this horrible job market or do I take a chance and make a move I've been talking about for years?

May 1, 2009

~~(Probably...)~~

Tom Schelby's proud of me today.

Work jerk.

2009-03-18T19:46:00.003-05:00

Even though...

I'm still at work and probably will be well into the morning hours;
I've got 24 hours to make one of those annoyingly large life-altering decisions;
I'm running on almost no sleep and this pattern is bound to continue;
I've eaten nothing but Wheat Thins all day;

I am still smiling like a goofy idiot.

Why?

Because New Mexico abolished the death penalty and one of the best girls I know is sporting a classy diamond on the most important of fingers.

Life's about balance.

For example, competition.

2009-03-13T11:01:00.004-05:00

Momma is wicked precious. I called her this morning and told her that Larry is probably the nicest man on the planet, seeing as he cut me a key to his apartment in Santa Fe, so I can stay there whenever I need to. Even when he won't be there, like this weekend. My mom's response: "What will you eat?!?" My response: "There are lots of restaurants in Santa Fe, Mom." Her response: "But it's a boys apartment, there won't be anything in the fridge." My response: "Mom, there's nothing in my fridge at home, either." I really don't have the heart to tell her how rarely I eat out of my fridge.

On that note, I called in a to-go order of a club with soup from the all-time home of comfort food known as Christie Mae's last night. When I got home, I discovered they'd given me the wrong order. Disappointment subsided when the order I got was the Acapulco Chicken, a far superior dish. I really only missed the cornbread.

When I did my time sheet this morning, I was shocked to discover I've only worked 65 hours this week. ONLY, by the way. It's felt like a lot more. I think that has something to do with the commute... Some days we work 16+ hours. Thankfully, working for Kathy Zimmer has prepared me well. The last year or so of college, it was habit to work in the office all day, get food, and come back to bartend. Those days weren't that bad, it was the day after that was horrible. The problem is, now, I don't get the day after off.

Only 8 more days of this job left. That's 8 straight days. I'm working straight through the weekend. Honestly, I'm not even scared of being unemployed. I'm just so excited for it to be over.

Flipping a coin.

2009-03-12T02:42:00.002-05:00

May 1, 2009

(Probably...)

The term of state contract.

2009-03-10T15:22:00.001-05:00

On Saturday, I started bragging about being around all these sick people and not getting sick. Half an hour later, my throat started hurting. It's been down hill ever since.

Moral of the story: Working a lot when you're a lot of sick is a lot of suck.

I've found something I like about Santa Fe. It took me a while. But, it has that small town-after rain smell. I missed that.

One more time, I say.

2009-03-07T11:12:00.003-06:00

Every year, the New Mexico House of Representatives plays the New Mexico Senate in a "friendly" game of basketball. This year, the House maintained their 9 year winning streak, beating the Senate, 61 to 51. The whole thing benefits the UNM Cancer Center and this years game was dedicated to Patty Jennings, wife of Senate Pro Tem Tim Jennings, who lost her battle with breast cancer on Valentines Day this year. The game raised an all time high $10,000.

It was surprisingly aggressive. I thought it would be competitive, but I had no idea it would get as rough as it did. But believe me, there's still a lot of comedy in politicians playing organized sports.

By the way, congratulations, Raton. You elected a damn fine basketball player to serve as your state representative.

Meep, meep.

2009-03-03T12:03:00.003-06:00

Running Rails.

Normally the train is on time, if not a few minutes early. Overall, I consider myself impressed with New Mexico's first attempt at a commuter rail, something that has been needed between Albuquerque and Santa for a long, long time. I've gotten used to the train by now. I almost look forward to riding the train in the morning. It gives me an hour to relax before work, read and drink some Starbucks. It makes me feel close to my grandfather, my dad's dad. He loved trains. I'm sure he would have loved the Railrunner.

But, sometimes, the train completely blows it. Today, a water pump gave out on the engine, so we had to wait for another train to come and pull us into Santa Fe. I was an hour and a half late for work.

Gross.

Caught by the River.

2009-03-02T14:00:00.001-06:00

iPod tendencies for the week include Doves, Doves, Doves, Doves, DOVES, Doves and more Doves. Also, brushing up on my mid-90's Springsteen in preparation for April 10th in Denver. Because, clearly, the most responsible thing to do when you're jobless and preparing for a move is spend $150 to get close enough for Springsteen to sweat on me. DEAR JESUS, if that's not responsibility, then I don't know what is.

Speaking of New Jersey...

Welcome to Newark. Where taggers are kind enough to censor their art. Clearly, they care about their community.

And welcome to a New Jersey post.

Circles and squares. We flew out Saturday with surprisingly few mishaps. Probably the best part of having a disabled mother, and she'll attest to this too, is the early boarding. One of the most interesting parts are the wheel chair drivers the airport provides. Some of them are super slow and very talkative. Others are speed racers and barely say a word. In Albuquerque, the wheel chair lady had Downs Syndrome, practically ran my mother through the airport and had no problem jamming her through lines and crowds of people. I was barely able to keep up. It was seriously a walk of shame, trailing behind them. I felt like apologizing to everyone that got plowed over. However, I think at that point, me and Mom needed some serious comedy. Dear God, please bless the mentally impaired. Thank you.

We flew over a wind farm. I am assuming this is San Jon, but I'm not sure.

At 27,000 feet.

DFW is nothing short of lovely.

And they have an iPod vending machine. Recession, by the way.

We got into Newark close to 11:30 on Saturday night. We ate some pizza and slept the best we could. It was nice to have a day before the services to sort of mellow, start the gradual process of going through things. family came over, some of which I hadn't seen in years and years.

These are my cousins Mike and Gina. They're siblings. And Mike just had a baby with his wife Kristen. And this is right before Gina's precious yorkie bit baby Landon.

I can't even begin to express my gratitude to that baby. 90% of the time, I still feel perpetually awkward around children. It's not that I don't like them, I'm terrified of breaking them. But it was just so amazing to have that much life around. And comedy. Landon liked to vomit a lot, but he was so silent about it. He would just open his mouth, no noise, no warning, and this flood would spout out. Didn't ever phase him.

It also helped that Landon has the exact same head as my grandpa. Exact same!

Gina doesn't have children. Gina has Niko. She needs nothing else.

Later that night, Gina took me to the diner closest to G-Pa's house for disco fries and coffee. This is, in fact, the quintessential Jersey experience. Considering I love diners so much, maybe I should move there and not Oklahoma. But, the owner of the diner asked Gina how my grandfather was doing. While it's never the best news to report, it was sweet of him to ask.

I didn't take any pictures at the services. It didn't feel right. But it all took place on Monday. First, we went to the funeral home, which was the hardest part for me. Grandpa was cremated and I'm fine with that. But, seeing the flowers that people sent really got to me. Especially the bouquet from the Eldorado, the building he worked for. After that was mass. My mom made awesome jokes there about how all the statues looked like they were levitating. Then, we went to the cemetery/mausoleum. Grandpa went in the same spot as his wife. The cemetery was very nice; great view of the city. There were really tall grave markers and huge, massive tombs for people. Gina kept talking about getting one for her and Niko and having it say "Gina", nothing else. After that was certainly my favorite part, and Grandpa's favorite part, the eating at the local VFW.

Lots of family came. 3 out of 4 of Grandpa's daughters were there; Madeline, my mom and Colette. Colette's kids were there; the previously mentioned Gina and Mike, with Mike's husband Kristen and baby Landon. Also present were cousins Jackie and Suzanne, and Jackie's husband Mike. And family from Canada! My mom's cousin Rene and his daughter Lucie came, the ones I stayed with in Quebec, and another of my mother's cousins Aline. If I ever do make babies, I will have the easiest time naming them since I have all these beautiful French names in my family.

Me and cousin Rene gettin down.

My mom found these ducks on Grandpa's garage. She took one and gave Rene the other.

Very Flattering Me and Lucie.

Probably my favorite image from the entire affair. Stuff like this is what made it bearable.

This one is a close second. There's actually an entire series of images of my cousin Gina embarrassing my mom.

I spent most of Tuesday in the City. It's a fantastic place to lose yourself. And that was exactly what I needed to do after the emotional battering ram of Monday.

Ducks as big as big as sky scrapers. Just keeping things is perspective.

My first stop was the B&H Photo Superstore. And let me tell you photo nerds, that place is shier madness. So many people! Also, a good 90% of the employees were wearing yamakas. After that, I rode the Subway to Central Park West and 88th; the Eldorado rests at CPW and 90th. Since it was so close, I ducked into Central Park and walked around the Jacqueline Onassis Reservoir, where the above photo is taken. This is at the far north of the lake, looking south.

And this is looking west. The building in the middle is the Eldorado.

Little metal "M"s mean the Met. Which was next stop. I actually didn't do much looking. I sat amongst the Roman busts and the Egyptian tombs for a while, listening to the crowds and watching school groups wind through the sprawl of that place.

After that, I hiked over to the CBS store in Times Square to get a Late Show shirt and got back on the bus for NJ for a dinner date.

Last time I was in New Jersey, I spent some time with my mom's friend Linda. Her and Linda met when my mom was barely 20, they lived in the same building. They've stayed in touch over the years and needless to say, they are absolutely adorable when they're together.

We left Wednesday. It was a sad goodbye to the red brick house on Sabina Street and to New Jersey as well. I don't think Mom knows when she'll be back. But, by that point, I was more than happy to get home and get back to normal.

Flying over the Appalachians. In the East, mountains are actually hills. But they are pretty.

On getting things back to normal... I can't tell you how happy I am to be home and out of February. I am happy I went to New Jersey. It wasn't an easy thing, as this was only the 5th funeral I've ever been to. Grandpa is the first person I've lost in my family that I was close with. I think there's still a long way for me to go with it, but I know that it would have him very, very happy to have all of us together.

This was the sunset in Santa Fe the night he passed away. There was something awesome in walking outside of work to that. It always seems to work out that way; the weather seems to understand when big, huge moments are taking place in your life and it tries to help you remember them.

Anyway, glad to be home and back to doing my thing. Work is madness, I'll probably be here till midnight tonight.

Dream, that's all you can.

2009-02-28T01:21:00.003-06:00

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.

Packing.

2009-02-21T10:23:00.003-06:00

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.

The Monitor.

2009-02-19T11:09:00.003-06:00

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

Cat fight outside my window.

2009-02-15T21:51:00.003-06:00

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.

Fly away, breakaway.

2009-02-12T08:03:00.003-06:00

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.

Ruthy Baby

2009-02-11T11:57:00.001-06:00

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.

She's the best of everything.

2009-02-01T13:38:00.003-06:00

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...

Priority.

2009-01-29T20:49:00.001-06:00

Crippling Ice and Snow.

2009-01-27T09:34:00.004-06:00

What has two thumbs and is stranded in Oklahoma because of an ice storm?

This girl!

I lucked out in that I got stranded at Chelsey's house. Last night to celebrate ICE STORM 09, we destroyed some Lost Lake (a ridiculously cheap pilsner from Wisconsin that I've only seen in OK) as well as an entire large cheese pizza. That delivery guy risked his life for our pizza. And for that, I am forever grateful.

So, not quite sure when I'll make it out. Probably won't be today. I haven't seen a single car try to tackle the road right outside Chelsey's apartment.

My interview went okay. I felt really nervous and unprepared. 2 minutes after I walked in the building to interview, the power went out. So, I did my interview in the dark. That was exciting.

This postcard was pretty much the only reason I made it out the door on Sunday. I was seriously considering blowing off the interview. I'm not quite sure what all this means now that I'm iced in...

Man. I'd do just about anything for a breakfast burrito right now.

Dur, 5:53am.

2009-01-20T06:52:00.001-06:00

Byeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

ohai!

Happy Birthday, Momma!

Alone in my Principles.

2009-01-17T12:23:00.003-06:00

I've always remembered this picture. Regardless of the house we lived in, my mom always had a print of it on the wall. Wikipedia tells us that "Christina's World" depicts Christina Olson, one of Wyeth's neighbors in Cushing, Maine, who had an undiagnosed muscular deterioration that paralyzed her lower body, possibly polio. Wyeth was visiting the Olson house, looked out through a window and saw Christina crawling across a field, which inspired him to make the painting. I guess Mom's always been connected to it, for somewhat obvious reasons.

When I visited the MOMA, I was almost out the door, in the store looking for a postcard to send my mom, when I saw a postcard of Christina. Of course, the MOMA had it. I went back into the museum and found it; sat by it for a good 20 minutes.

The nice part about creating something like that is that it'll always be around.

In 2005, Wyeth painted this, of his manager and wife of 56 years, Betsy. Even though Wyeth wanted it to be titled "Betsy's World", but his wife refused. He called it "Other World" instead.

Anyway, just some things.

Job's gotten better. I feel a little better, after making some friends and getting back into a groove. I also like knowing that it's only 60 days. However, the Railrunner really hasn't gotten any better. 4 major delays in 4 straight days, all days that I was planning on riding. They better get that straightened out, because there is no way I'm parking at the Capitol. Ya hear?

Start all over again.

2009-01-13T22:37:00.005-06:00

What a day. Pretty much all I want to do is collapse in a pile of misery.

There's just something about being in an office environment that makes me want to throw my head through a wall. I walked around my new job today and saw all the empty desks, waiting for me and the other temp's to fill them. It disgusted me. I could barely stand it, barely keep it together. I spent 8 months wearing dress pants and a fake smile. Fact is, I don't think I can fake it any more.

Maybe it was just the shock of being thrown into that world again, maybe it was the anxiety and the lack of sleep. But maybe, that's just not what I'm built to do. I don't feel like Cat, or even Catherine, when I'm in situations like that. I don't like the person I become in a professional office. God, I'd give absolutely anything to have my ice-cold perch in the Golden West back.

After almost a year of searching, I finally have an interview in Oklahoma on the 26th. It's a better office job. But even hearing the word "office" automatically makes me resent it. (But that, and the insecurities that come along with leaving New Mexico belong in a whole other blog.)

I know I need to give it time, it'll probably get easier. But, I really did promise myself that I wouldn't settle for a job any more. I want to wake up and be excited to go to work. It really does seem like a simple request, but so few people actually get that opportunity. I honestly don't know how one goes about that anymore.

Crank.

2009-01-12T23:10:00.003-06:00

Kyle made a new friend today.

I hope I make new friends tomorrow. Welcome me back to the work force. This is not something I'm excited about at all. But, I know that being negative about it makes it no easier. So tomorrow, I'm going to try to hold up my head high, in my $11 JC Penney dress pants, take the Railrunner to Santa Fe, and try to have a open mind.

Did I mention I have to wake up at 5:15am tomorrow?

Optimism's a cruel girl.

These stirring tunes of the Lord have made me want to dance.

2009-01-10T14:00:00.005-06:00

Why I love the El Rey:

Dancing.

Daniel.

Drunk boyfriend.

Deviant behavior.

More dancing.

More Daniel.

And A-Ha.

You know, sometimes I really hate my job. Sometimes it really gets me down. But most of the time, I absolutely love it.

Leper colonies.

2009-01-09T02:29:00.003-06:00

Well, gross. OU lost. Not only did they lose, but I watched them lose in the company of a ravenous Florida fan, who promptly told Sam Bradford to "go back to the reservation" after he made a good play. My boyfriend defended my football honor. It was absolutely precious.

On a more important note, I got one them fancy jobs you people brag about. EXCITING!!!! But (and there's always a catch) it's in Santa Fe, so I'll be commuting north 5 days a week. Also, it only lasts 60 days. But, it's something. And it's good experience for the good ol' resume. Not sure if I can blog about it, since I haven't been officially hired yet. So, I won't say much. But, let's think about it. A job in Santa Fe. That only lasts 60 days. And it starts at the beginning of a new year. HMMMM.

I have decided in my INFINITE music wisdom to compile what I define as great love songs into one playlist. I'm trying my best to make it as universal as possible; not just adding songs that I've attached to personal relationships. Sure, there's indie rock wedding standby's like Death Cab's "I Will Follow You into the Dark", but most of them are more on par with the Eel's "Not Ready Yet" and "Cautioners" by Jimmy Eat World. Songs more about personal insecurities and challenges than the mushy gut feelings you get over being with someone for forever. I'm not quite sure what that says about my perception of love. Maybe it just means I love honest music.

I stubbed the crap out of my toe tonight at Brickyard. Like, toenails' severed sort of stubbing. Grump.

Everything will change.

2009-01-07T03:31:00.002-06:00

I just went into iTunes to start a specifically weepy playlist, only to find I had deleted that playlist. It made me smile a lot.

Recalculating.

2009-01-04T23:17:00.003-06:00

Before I start talking about my recent trip to Denver, I need to tell you about the level of intelligence that was in that car. 6 college degrees, two more in process. 2 paralegals. 2 former federal employees. 2 graduates of Albuquerque Academy. Like, gave new meaning to the term "smart car".

Now, watch this and know that it was the single, most hysterical moment of our lives.

I think I've turned going to Denver into some sort of hobby. Really, I'm a bit confused. Because, truth be told, I don't like Denver much at all. But, I sure do seem to go there a lot. And I have fun every time I go. Does that mean I like Denver?

No.

We, being Kyle, Tom, Marky, Alexis and myself went to D-Town to see Flogging Molly and the Aggrolites at the Fillmore, which might be my favorite venue in the world (there's a lot of them I have yet to see). We left last Monday, stayed the night in Colorado Springs, went to the show on Tuesday and drove back on New Years Eve.

We stayed with Tom's uncle in Springs. And since his uncle's a Maloof AND the head golf coach at the Air Force Academy, his neighborhood looked like this. Or, the sort of neighborhood crazy people snatch up little blonde girls, as I so poetically deemed it. Tom's uncle had a giant and fantastic chocolate lab named Maverick. Best dog in dog world. Most dogs think they're people. Some dogs even think they're cats. But Maverick knew he was a dog. He liked it and he was good at it.

We had some time to kill in Denver before the show, so we went to Casa Bonita. Trust me, it's just as awesome and horrible as you can imagine.

Cliff Divers.

This is Tom, sort of excited about gordita. And Alexis, not excited about beef taco. And Mark, really excited about tequila.

And this is the Jonderpool Holiday Photo, 2008.

After Bonita, we decided we needed beer. And we needed to take Tom on his family spirit quest (walkabout!) to the Coors Brewery in Golden. After driving allllll the way out there, we find out they're closed on Tuesdays. Now, Tom will never know who he truly is.

So, we went to the Denver Art Museum instead.

This giant sculpture had a plaque with it, describing what was and was not okay to do to the broom and dust pan, that said things like: Taking your picture with the broom is okay. Chatting with the broom about cleaning products is okay. Blaming the broom for the degradation of contemporary morals is okay. Caressing the broom is not okay. No, really.

About the time we finished looking at art (and completely ignoring the Native American sections, because really, can Denver teach me anything about Native American art that I can't learn at home? No. The answer is no.) it was time to head for the Fillmore. This is about the time I start to get super paranoid. Because this is about the time in my last trip to see Flogging Molly at the Fillmore that everything went horribly wrong. Between myself and Marky, I think we analyzed every, single thing that could possibly go wrong. I was checking out hotels in the area. I even asked Tom how good the insurance policy on his car was.

Luckily, after a few plastic cups of High Life on an empty stomach, I was pretty content with things. The show was almost exactly what I expected. For the most part, no one understood Rev. Peyton's Big Damn Band or the Aggrolites, but our little group danced away, regardless. See, Denver's got a lot of bro's. Like, BRO'S. BRAHS, even. And brahs think Flogging Molly's the shit. So, I went in expecting that no one would get the openers. And that everyone would be insane for F-Molly. And they were. If any band in the world deserves a crazy crowd, it's Flogging Molly. They put on one hell of a show. But, even though it goes against the fundamental basics of punk rock, there are certain, universal rules of etiquette at punk rock shows. And Rule #1 is, when someone falls down you pick them up. And when this rule isn't followed, things get dangerous pretty quick. So, after having about 7 white hats pile on top of me, and no one help me up, I decided that the bar was a great place to watch the show. Maybe I'm old. But, I still had fun.

We stayed the night with Bill, the former bass player of Half-Stache and one of my favorite people in the world. But that also meant we had to be up and on the road by 7:30. We barely made it. We stopped for gas at the Denver Tech Center and searched down breakfast. I think we were all dreading the thoughts of McDonalds or some sort of fast food, thanks to Casa Bonita's fine cuisine from the previous day. But, we located a blessed Einsteins.

Really?

Ride home was uneventful. I rode shotgun or drove for most of it, which made me iPod master, a role I very much enjoy. We got home in enough time for me to nap before heading out for New Years Eve.

But, the moral of the blog is, CURSE BROKEN, BITCHES. The worst thing that happened on the trip was sleep deprivation. So, do I like Denver now? Now that the curse is off?

No.

Dove of Hope.

2009-01-03T14:35:00.002-06:00

In 2008, I lost 4 good friends.

Luckily, none of them were human.

Luck. It's taken me a while to see the luck in a lot of what happened in 2008. For the most part, I just felt deeply unfortunate. I tried really hard to not let myself wallow in what happened, to pick myself up. I think that for the most part, I did okay. But, it was all still sitting there, like a big lump on my brain. And while I'd love to say that the clock rolling over to another year allows me to put it all behind me, I know there's still giant steps I've got to get past. And luckily, I've got a fantastic group of friends and family to help me along. I am grateful to all of you, you know who you are, but I don't think you realize just how much you do. I still re-read all the comments on the entries I wrote about Annie's death once in a while when I'm feeling down; I really wish I would have saved all the text messages I got on the day of the fire. Big ol' sentimental, melodramatic hugs all around.

Here's something irresponsible: I bought a new point and shoot. Well, Kyle paid for half of it (Merry Yule) and it was an open box value at Circuit City. Hard to turn down. And I'm pretty happy to have a new, constant companion. Her first out of town trip was to see Flogging Molly and The Aggrolites in Denver this weekend, so I named her Molly.

Oh yeah, I went to Denver with Marky for the fourth time in a year. It was hilarious. Blog, photos, and offensive mpegs coming soon... (once I figure out why Molly isn't showing up as an external drive...)

Waking up to not being okay with any of it.

2008-12-28T04:11:00.006-06:00

Brr! The chill in Albuquerque's air has brought me to a level I thought I would never, ever go. I bought a flannel. No, trust me, I know. It's the worst kind, even. The kind you pay too much for at Urban Outfitters. But dudes, it's cold. And I'm Canadian. So, cut me some slack.

I am so over Jordan Catalano.

You know what else I'm so over? Quinceañeras. A family tried to run off without paying their balance at the El Rey tonight. Daniel and me pretty much had to chase them down in the parking lot. Worst part was the family seemed so nice prior to the incident. It was a pretty okay Quince. The band was really good, as far as Quince bands go, the crowd was super-family oriented and my old buddy Colin stopped by. But their complete 180 did the same thing to my night. Man, am I ever grumpy.

All this Ataris-speak has got me in a super-nostalgic music mood. How much music have you forgotten about? I've forgotten A LOT. It's been good to get reacquainted with old friends.

I hope holiday merriment was had by all. I spent the day alone, for the most part. Mom was supposed to come into town, or I was supposed to go out there, but neither happened. So, I sat at home with about $60 worth of cookie making supplies and super-baked while watching Jackass. Didn't leave my house or change out of my PJ's all day.

Party Boy + cookies = Happy Holidays.

I normally make attainable goals for New Years resolutions. Last years goals were to: learn french, swim in a ocean, buy a new computer, pay rent and find a steady job. So, 2 out of 5? Meh. My only solid commitment for 2009 is to stop texting while driving. I'll probably tack finishing a novel and some sort of exercise routine on there.

Oi to the World.

2008-12-25T01:30:00.004-06:00

Norad's Santa Tracker has him currently in Redding, California.

Joyeux Noël!

Christmas blogging present: That last Ataris story made me want to recount my other amazing Ataris story, which happened when I saw them on the So Long, Astoria tour. Man, was it ever an odd bill. That was the first and only time I saw Planes Mistaken for Stars. Me and Maria hung out in the back of the Sunshine for most of it, but decided to charge the front when they played good ol San Dimas. We get right to the front when the band's throwing out guitar picks/set lists/unused bottles of water/etc. The girl standing in front of us, who is the poster child for Pretty in Punks everywhere (complete with meathead boyfriend) catches Chris "Kid" Knapp's sweaty drumming towel and starts swinging it around like an idiot. Now, it's important to know that I thought Kid Knapp wuz teh CUTEST. Maria knows this, looks around quickly, swipes the towel out of the girls' hands and books it for the back of the venue. I'm in shock, turn to run with her, but get caught by meathead boyfriend who shoves me to the ground. I get up and yell at him, because clearly, I did not steal his girlfriend's towel. But he's unapologetic (this is why I have no guilt over the incident). I blow it off and make my way to the back of the venue to be herded out like cattle through the exit. When I get to the bar, Maria appears out of nowhere, like a dang unibomber, with her hoodie hood pulled up over her face so no one could see her.

"Hey," she says.

"Do you still have it?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"Can I see it?"

"No way, not until we're outta here."

Maria rules. Still have that towel.

Whitney, don't you understand that what I say is true?

2008-12-23T02:28:00.005-06:00

The Ataris played a very significant role in the development of my punk rockerness. And it had seriously been about 3 years since one of their songs turned up on my iPod. Until, my drive home on Sunday. I listened to Blue Skies and Broken Hearts, End is Forever AND Anywhere But Here. It completely blew my mind that now, almost nine years after those albums entered my CD changer (because back in high school, I totally rocked a CD changer in my room), I still knew all the words. Every, single, word. I guess they played an even more significant role than i had previously thought.

I remember meeting them at Warped Tour back in 2001. If I looked hard enough, I'd probably find a really good photo of me and Kris Rowe, their lead singer, that he took. That was the first time I ever met "rock stars" that made me go awkward. In fact, it would be one of the last times. Most of the time if I see someone in a band that I super-like, I tend to not talk to them, downright avoid them, instead of having that unbearably awkward two minute conversation about how much their band, like, chaaaaaaanged your life. Because, no matter how put it, it still seems prefabricated. At least in my brain. So, I just walk right on by. Except for the time I sort of met Matt Freeman and babbled incoherently for about 30 seconds. He smiled politely and walked away. Brain would explode if I ever met Tim Armstrong. ANYWAY tangent police, they were all pretty awesome dudes and it gave me hope that "rock stars" were just like meeee: 16, brokenhearted and grabbing at any piece of self identity I could find.

Trust me, I know, in the standard definition of "good music", they fall a little short. And while my 24-year-old self, complete with Radiohead discography and elitist indie-centric podcasts (that's a term...), wants to never wants to hear San Dimas High School Football Rules again, that broken and incomplete 16-year-old is completely winning out. There's such satisfaction in the little things that can teleport you to another place or time. And while I fully remember how disenchanted with the world I was when I was 16, I don't seem to remember those parts when I listen to the Ataris.

So, thanks guys.

So hey, remember that part up there when I said I was driving home on Sunday? Well, I did that! The one guy in Tucumcari who fixes radiators gave me a brand-spanking-new one. And I was OUT OF THERE. Barely even said g'bye to family, I just bolted for the door. It's not that I dislike spending time in Tucumcari, with step-siblings and such, it's that it wasn't my choice to be there. I was so ready for my own bed and some high-quality alone time.

You should see the hole in my radiator. It looks like someone shot it with a riffle. I'm still in disbelief. A freaking tumblweed?

On the last day of me Angie's trip to San Francisco, we both made a sort of pilgrimage. We went to Berkeley so I could visit 924 Gilman, the venue that launched Operation Ivy, Green Day, NOFX and pretty much any other punk rock outfit from the Bay Area. And then we went to the Castro, birthplace of the American Gay Rights Movement. I didn't know much about it then, but knowing what I know now, I'm so glad that I did that.

Milk is so good. It's too good, maybe. Everything about it is a labor of love, from the film stock selections to the set design to the music to the performances (oh my sweet Daniel Desario!). It's the sort of thing you watch and you know that every person involved, down to the guy who got the coffee, was completely enamored with what they were doing. It made me want to simultaneously punch and hug the world. It's also worth noting what Harvey Milk said, about giving people hope. You've got to give them hope. Sounds very, very, very familiar.

I cannot recommend that movie any higher. Please see it.

Got Christmas plans? If not, come on by. I probably won't make it to my mom's, thanks to mother nature. So, I'm planning on baking and some kind of movie/television marathon. Right now, it's a toss up between My So Called Life or Cameron Crowe. You pick.

Drinking beer in a Circle K bathroom.

2008-12-19T12:08:00.002-06:00

Turns out there is ONE guy in Tucumcari who fixes radiators. His shop is "somewhere behind the feedlot". But since it's Tucumcari, my dad's assistant somehow knows him. So, he's coming by later to take a look.

Good thoughts, please. I'd really like to get home. :/

So, about this shoe being thrown at the President... I gotta tell you, I was somewhat impressed. Really, ninja-like ducking reflexes. I told Tyler it was probably the first time I was genuinely impressed by an action of our President. Guess those months in the Coast Guard paid off. (I'm a little disappointed by the responses on Pundit Kitchen. Come on, guys! This is lolgold!)

In job news, really, someone needs to pay me to blog. I'm not quite sure how you go about this. Maybe I could mention AMAZING, REVOLUTIONARY PRODUCTS, or talk about CONTROVERSIAL, WORLD-ALTERING STORIES. But, I think I do that anyway.

Linking. That's the ticket. Link as many things as you can possibly link. Link.

Safety.

2008-12-18T20:36:00.003-06:00

On my drive home, my truck slayed at least 30 tumbleweeds. Maybe more.

The problem is, one tumbleweed slayed my truck.

And now I'm stuck in Tucumcari with a radiator leak.

It's important to note that Tucumcari doesn't have a single mechanic who repairs radiators.

S.O.S.

Monopoly banking.

2008-12-17T01:22:00.003-06:00

(The first thing I've ever wanted to steal from my grandma.)
My grandmother is seriously the queen of all that is a grandmother. She batters me with conservative wisdom, she pesters me to get married and find a good job. But she also makes me hot cocoa and keeps her comments about my sleeping in to a minimum. A minimum. I sprung out of Pampa. But overall, taking grandma to the Nutcracker ballet in Amarillo, Texas was a bearable experience. It's important to note that the production of the Nutcracker was in the Amarillo Civic Center. And right down the hall, at the exact same time, there was a Gun and Knife Show.

America.

And now, I'm back in Norman, Oklahoma. Tomorrow, I'm going for a merit test and my alcohol server's permit. Mattlahoma moved and is now living with 3 other boys. I don't need to describe conditions (or the bathroom), you already know. I'm sure of it. With my frequent trips to Norman, the spare bedroom in Matt's parents house had come to be known at Cat's Room. I certainly miss that comfort. And Matt's mom. That lady rules.

Even though you wouldn't believe me if I told you, there are good people here with tremendously large hearts. And I am grateful to all of them.

It's been super cold here. And I did not pack accordingly (thanks, weather.com). And there's a chance of a small scale ice storm on Thursday, the day I was planning on leaving. I guess it's only fair. I did manage to drive all the way to Canada in the dead of winter with almost no weather issues. Can't help but feel like I'm still owed a few snow-free travel days, though. It okay Momma Nature, I know you don't operate on a barter system.

I know that I have this awesome D80 and I love it with all my heart. But, sometimes, I don't feel like lugging my D80 and its ultra protective case with me everywhere I go. I miss being able to capture those amazing spur of the moment photograph opportunities. I feel like the D80 makes all of my pictures sort of planned out. Hence, I'm still considering investing in another point and shoot. Is this bad?

I feel like if I could only take a few steps forward, my full-fledged adult life would be right in my grasp. But those steps are through the most disgusting mud I've ever seen. So, I'd much rather totter on the edge, regardless of how unbalanced it makes me feel. If only I knew how to jump.

That's how it works.

2008-12-12T03:18:00.002-06:00

To the ballet, I go. The Nutcracker ballet, that is. With my grandmother in Amarillo. I'll be out of town for a week or so, journeying on to Oklahoma for a merit test (as if there was even a question...), my Oklahoma alcohol server's license and some premature house hunting. We'll see. I'm sort of dreading this so-called business trip, so I hope I'll be able to have some fun.

Appropriately entitled Cat in a Car, I'd read my twitter while I'm gone. I'm hilarious when I'm under 140 characters.

Please Don't Walk Away.

2008-12-09T01:35:00.002-06:00

Happy Holidays.

Talk about domestication, I decorated my house and baked enchiladas in the same night. This, is completely unheard of. It's amazing the lengths I'll go to procrastinate about editing my cover letter. Again. For the 19th time. (No really, 19 saved drafts on my computer.) Above photograph is a clear demonstration of job search frustration. Take notice of the frazzled hair and under-eye bags.

Last week, I babysat a film crew in the El Rey. Men Who Stare at Goats used the theater for catering and costuming. Catering was the buzzword in my agreement to babysit. I knew it would be an early morning, but I had no idea I'd have to be at the El Rey at FOUR IN THE FREAKING MORNING. And I certainly didn't have a clue that I wouldn't get out of there until SEVEN THIRTY IN THE FREAKING NIGHT. You film people are crazy. People, especially of a certain age, seem to have a hard time understanding why I have a film degree and yet so reluctant to work on a film set. FOUR IN THE FREAKING MORNING, that's why. For my efforts, I got to watch the entire first season of Arrested Development (Steve Holt!) with limited interruption and a to-go box full of probably the best salmon I've ever eaten in my life.

Side note: The costume people for that movie are meanies. The second they walked in the El Rey, they started talking shit about it. Trust me, I'm aware that she's seen better days, but come on now. I wish I could go to all their houses and insult them. I threw down some pretty vicious lady eye daggers and their insults seemed to go away. Or at least, out of my earshot.

I've been a bit of a solitary primate lately, since my boyfriend's lost in an abyss of finals and I seem to be operating on the complete opposite sleep schedule than anyone else I know. But, Sunday I caught up with Jennifer and walked the Rinconada Canyon Trail off of Unser. Pretty good day; I sort of forget how close all that stuff is. If anyone's got a day off this week (or wants to take one), let's go up to Chaco. My treat.

Because this place is pretty great.

It's cold in my house. But I'd much rather burrow under blankets than pay PNM any more money.