Please Don't Walk Away.

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.

I know we're all super excited to see Milk, but if I were you, I would not go see it in a Cinemark theater. It's showing at High Ridge, though.

PS. And on that note...

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

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.

Drink till you feel alright.

This Thanksgiving was one of the best I think I've ever had. I started celebrating early on Wednesday night, by hanging out with friend-family at the Anderbenmans. It was a small group, but it's safe to say I loved every person in that room. It felt very Holiday-like and it got me in a great mood. On actual Thanksgiving, I went to my mom's, where the two of us made all the usual sides, along with turkey and green chile pizza, which was a quite successful experiment. So hey, if you're looking for something awesome to do with leftover bird, I'd do that.

On the level of things I'm thankful for, I think the award goes to this little one:


Her name is Olive.

Oliver still hasn't come home and Mom decided it would be good to get another cat. Originally named Daisy, she's five months old and was surrendered to the Westside animal shelter. I picked her out because as soon as she climbed into my arms, she started purring. In fact, I don't think she's stopped purring since. Really, she is the sweetest kitten. She adapted to my mom and her house in under five minutes, like she was always supposed to be there. She might win prizes in cuteness, but her real award is for making my mom smile.




I've been in crazy cleaning mode lately. Room's clean, I scrubbed down the bar on Monday, and I attacked my bathroom last night. Not quite sure why...

Burning thing.

Just so you know,

The rest of that gel stuff they shoved into my thumb fell off today.

You're welcome.

Hands back to the Ground.

San Jon, New Mexico.

I sort of love that some of the oldest technology in the world will become the savior of the energy crisis.


It comes in threes. First, Annie, then Mohammad, now Oliver Twist, my mother's dear fat cat has gone missing in Edgewood. This is not the place you want to loose a cat. He'd been roaming around a little outside, in an effort to curb the heartbreak of losing his brother Mohammad a few months ago. He didn't come home Thursday night. Both Kyle (who earns immense bonus points for his efforts in Operation Oliver) and I combed the land around my mom's on Friday and today, no trace of him at all. We also posted fliers all over town and the neighborhood. Fingers and toes are crossed.

When my family moved to Raton from Edgewood, my beloved dogs Fred and Sally escaped from a kennel by gnawing through chainlink fencing. Fred, our wild black lab, was found a week and a half later, skinny and begging for food. Sally, my malamute/german shepherd cross, was found six weeks later, waiting patiently for us to come home, in front of a gate that looked exactly like that of our former home.

So, the point is, my family is capable of pet recovery miracles. I hope most that somehow, Oliver will make his way back to my mom's house. But, a lot of my hope has turned to him not suffering, where ever he is. I'm glad it's warmer tonight.

My body's crying for a road trip. Being paid for not going to work and low gas prices make it very possible that I will next update my blog in Oklahoma. Or Kentucky. Or Michigan. Or Wyoming.

(Oh yeah, thumb's healing up okay. It's sort of gross and smells pretty bad. You try not washing your thumb for 8 days and see how awesome it looks.)

This isn't happening.

brb, taking pictures of abandoned water sheds.

Actually. brb, In Tucumcari. Mostly on a photographic mission, but it looks like I'll crank out some high quality job hunting while I'm here. I spent today in Clovis, exploring the Norman & Vi Petty Rock 'N' Roll Museum. In case you didn't know, Buddy Holly and Roy Orbison recorded in Clovis, New Mexico. You can't make this up. After museum, I wandered about town and clicked away at run down grain elevators and sprinkler systems. I love D80. So much.

Also, love this one.