You shoulda putta ring on it.

I'm lost in a world of resumes and job applications. As I told Angie a few days ago, I hate talking about myself. I actually hate myself by this point. I would never hire me. And while, yeah, I rarely get up before noon and I spend about 90% of my day indoors, I'm working probably harder than I have in months. It is emotionally retarding to fill out job application after application. "Please give an example of a challenging situation at work in which you were in a leadership role. Please list the process you used to handle the situation.... Step One: EAT A BAG OF..." Crap makes me miserable. Please, job, show your face.

To counteract my stress level, I've been diving into the creative. 'Member ye olde novel I mentioned a few months back? Still going, almost 300 pages strong. That word document, regardless of fluff-content and grammar errors, makes me glow with pride. Just knowing that I'm come that far is a pretty awesome thing.

I've also started breaking out the 16mm again. Taking a note from Brakhage, I've been playing around with the yards of leader I have. I've been cutting up 35mm single shot negatives and taping them onto clear leader. My mom found some MRIs of her brain from about 10 years ago that she gave to me, and I'll probably do the same thing to them. It probably won't amount to much (or look like anything, really) but it's nice to have that process back. And it sure does eat up some hours.

Wolverine bringing the hardcore.

Location: Angie’s High School Bedroom, Raton NM
Miles Logged: 241

Destination Number One is down, I’m in Raton. I can’t think of a more appropriate place to start all of this than Raton. I have such a love/hate relationship with this town. I love its intimacy, its laid back persona, its clean air. But I hate how nosey it is, all the bitter memories of middle school it still brings up, and how I feel like I regress a little when I’m here.

It’s the basic relationship I think 90% of the population that comes from small town America to the big city has with their homebase. In a word: bittersweet. But, regardless, this town has 9 years of my life, almost all of my puberty, and a decent chunk of my heart.

When my creative writing teachers gave lectures about place, Raton was almost always my example, just because of the level of memories I have associated with it. Angie and I drove around tonight, looking at all the houses, all the businesses, and reminisced about who lived where. “That’ll always be SoAndSo’s house, no matter who lives there.” Each little, location is like a Cat locker of some kind of moment burned into my brain, no matter how painful or ridiculous.

So, being here is like looking at myself at 16. It makes me feel ancient and young all at the same time.

I’m looking forward to seeing some old and very dear friends, eating at El Matador, and having at least one late night at Dennys. I’m staying with my favorite teacher from high school, whose daughter just happens to be one of my best friends. She and her mother made me laugh quite a lot tonight, something I desperately needed.

My mood is good. I’m feeling excited, there seems to be endless possibilities, not obstacles. I think I might still be in shock, I’m expecting a relapse of “I miss Albuquerque” in a few days when I’m not in such a comfortable environment.

Photos? I thought so.



I drove through Galestio, a place I really associate with Cat’s development with art, as retarded as it sounds. I remember driving through the town, on my constant trips between Raton and Edgewood and seeing this impossibly long line of mailboxes and wanting, desperately, to take a picture of them.



Of all things to encounter, I drove through the remits of a massive hail storm, it looked like snow.



Also, New Mexico was pissed that I left.