Love.

I know I've been somewhat un-chirpy lately. My quietness can be blamed on sorrow.



Mohammad lost his battle with kidney failure on Thursday. It had been going downhill for a few weeks now and Mom and me made the decision that he needed to go quietly and peacefully. So he did.

I got Mohammad when I was 12. I had always wanted a kitten. Ever since I knew what one was, I wanted one. When the time was right, finding a kitten turned out to be a nearly impossible venture in Raton. After weeks of searching my dad found an eight week old yellow and orange shorthair at Barbara's Pet Parade in the northeast heights. He was so tiny, especially his tail. My dad assumed that little cats had little tails. Before we got him, something happened to his little tail, he was missing sbout two thirds of it. But he wagged it with such pride.

When I started college, he stayed with my mom in Raton, since I couldn't take him. And he's been with her for 6 years. He never had a single health problem, except for kitty-acne, until this year with his kidneys. Even if something was wrong, he never would have complained. Such a mild-mannered creature. The only thing that upset him were dogs. When he saw one, his little tail would puff up and he would hiss and spit a storm.

Overall, I feel defeated about it, especially with it happening so close to losing Annie. He was a good kitty, if not the best kitty. He was always happy to see me, no matter how long it was in between visits. Even that last day, when he could barely walk, he purred for me when I pet him. I'll miss his little squeaks for a long time to come.

He would have been 13 in January. I buried him at my moms house, far away from Annie but with a view of house so he can still watch over my momma. I told him his kitty heaven would have no dogs, lots of bugs for him to chase and he'd even be reunited with his tail.

Long week. Life in general seems to be dragging out lately. Maybe that means something grand's coming up. I hope so.

Something constant under my feet.

Ready for the good?


My kitty made an almost full recovery. $500 and 4 days later, they let him come home. He'll have to be on special kidney food for the rest of his life, but thankfully he likes it. He's energized, he's happy, and it warms my heart to see him running and playing.

Ready for the bad?


Before I left for my trip, I tagged the El Rey. I guess it was sort of a tradition, former employees leaving little calling cards. They seem to be all over the premise of the (former) bar and the theater. Under the stack of letter C’s for the marquee in the theater’s utility closet, I wrote, “Someday it will be your theater too.”

When I first starting working there, Kathy told me that same sentence. I remember feeling uneasy about it, wondering if I could hang out in that place long enough to call it my own. But somewhere in the last 3 years, between Ska Prom and inventory, it did become my theater.

I’ve spent more time in that building in the last year than I have anywhere else. It wasn’t just my theater, it was my home. So, standing in front of it Thursday morning, watching black smoke fold out in front of me, was quite possibly the single most heart-breaking thing I have witnessed.


You can't do anything, you just have watch it wash out into the streets; 3 years of your work, 3 years of your life. I stood outside of what was the Golden West for 7 hours, completely helpless, completely useless, occasionally breaking into tears, and hoping for just some kind of decent news. Just some sign that there was something good in all of that. Really, I would have taken anything. No one was hurt. I needed to remember that.

The Golden West on the other hand, is completely gutted. When I say that, I mean gone. The only thing left standing is the front wall and the beer cooler (of course…). It looks like a sound stage, a movie set. Once the smoke settled, it was just like a completely different dream. By far, the most surreal day of my life. How can a structure like that, with so much in it, so much to it, just vanish? And that’s literally what it did. You’re all breathing it in right now.

But, the old girl, the 80 year old lady, did exactly what she was supposed to do. She contained herself. For the most part. The Launchpad shares our wall, which is why there was damage to it. It looks like most of their damage happened when the roof caved, pulling some of the wall with it. The rest of their damage is water and smoke. The El Rey is almost perfect, minus basement flooding and and some smoke damage in the lobby. The Golden West protected her babies like a champ. I couldn't help but feel a little swell of pride, as silly as it sounds.

Where I am right now, I'm trying to make sense of it all.

It's pure tragedy. It's no one's fault, just a gaping loss. I don’t think I’ve ever processed something like this. This weekend, I just felt devastated, but completely numb all at the same time. I am coming to terms, with each walk-through I do, each beer I have with Daniel. It’s just… not there yet. I keep trying to rack my brain, thinking of all the amazing things that have happened in the old girl. But, the memories aren’t coming. I think I’ve somehow managed to block them out.

But something amazing happened Sunday. For the first time in all of this, I started finding the comedy in this, letting myself laugh about it.


That makes it feel a lot better.

There's lots more photos here. And more to come.

Swimming in November

Sad days. My kitty, my dear, sweet Mohammad, is currently at the vet because of kidney failure. It makes me cry a lot, but he's a fighter. He's eating and drinking, which makes me think he'll be okay. The vet's testing his kidney enzymes again tomorrow, which will be the real tell, if his little fluffy body is responding to the IV fluids he's on. If not, well, I don't want to talk about that.

Also, let's say, theoretically, you were offered a job in Washington DC at the United States Capital. And let's say the pay was decent. And let's say you're a little sad at the thought of leaving your home, but you're scared you'd be bailing on a huge opportunity. And let's say you know absolutely no one in the DC metro, so you're also scared you'd end up a lonely cat lady for nine months. THEORETICALLY. Would you take the job?

A la izquierda, a la izquierda.

Who just paid $2.95 to use the internet at the Edgewood McDonalds? THAT WOULD BE ME. RAGE.

There is NOTHING to do in Edgewood, in case you were curious. Other than visiting my new friend at the Movie Gallery, I never leave my mom's house. Which isn't really that bad, she's got the cable, more books than I know what to do with, and a huge backyard, perfect for mini-hikes. But still, it leaves much to be desired.

I feel like I've reverted back to high school. Living with my mom, sneaking around with my boyfriend, spending almost all free time at the video store... It's odd. Even my face is breaking out like mad (I blame Edgewood's tard water and lack of health insurance).

Have some pixel-eye-candy.

Go repealing with Sarebear as often as possible.



I had a great time. Even though I'm pretty sure I did the actual repealing wrong, as it hurt my hands a lot. When I told Paul, he said, "Well, you didn't die, so I think you did okay." Good point, Pavel. Me and Sara had a great time asking for the great Lord's salvation as we hiked up the mountain for about the 3rd time in 2 hours. And also when Paul was attempting to repeal down without being anchored to a tree. We asked Jesus to give him "some of them Hermes wings". I think Paul found it quite distracting, but he adores Sarebear too much to care.

This is my bus-stop from when I went to Mountainview Elementary.



I can't even tell you how many times Matt Humberstone pushed me off that damn rock.

I went back through my old neighborhood, as I lived in Edgewood til I was 8 and then moved to Raton. It was interesting, as it's grown a lot. Lots more yuppies and drug dealers. Edgewood's good at balancing those things. I remembered there being a giant puddle right across the street from my bus stop and begging my mom to drive through it. She never did, since the puddle never seemed to go away and neither of us knew what was actually underneath it.

Well, guess what. It's still there.



I don't know why, but seeing that made me really happy.

I love my kitty.



And my doggy.



Funny story about my dog: She's got really bad thyroid issues, something that makes her hair randomly fall out.

So, right now, my dog looks like a monk.



And, to twist the blade, my mom took her to a groomer to get some of hair shaved, thinking that the heat might be contributing to the irritation. Now, my mom's never really been the most rational person, but for some reason, the groomer convinced my mom to shave Billy Bob like a lion.

Ladies and gentleman, meet Friar Simba.