A home I could call my own.

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.

Eric drinks his own pee.

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.

Kick start my rock and roll heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even at 25,
You gotta start sometime.

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

Don't let me down.

Awesome. Awesome night.

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.

Do the right thing.

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.

Leaving you with nothing.

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.

Riding fast and living slow.

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.

Flipping a coin.

May 1, 2009

(Probably...)

And you laugh about the scars.

Chicago only got worse. My attempts to stay positive completely failed when I went to leave the parking garage yesterday morning, only to discover that my car battery was dead. I called Matt and he came back to the garage and we hooked up jumper cables and waited for a few minutes. Then waited for some more minutes. Then some more. Nothing happened. Matt called his dad who informed me that I might have a battery that's not "maintenance free" and I might need to add water to it (WHY DID NO ONE EVER TELL ME ABOUT THIS? In the history of car repair, which I really, honestly try to make an effort to know about, this was never brought to my attention. I really hate being a stereotypical naive car-girl, but there it was. Did I ever feel stupid.) so we tried to get the caps off to add water, but nothing I had in my car would pry the caps off. So, there I sat, in my cold, non-functioning car, already thinking of the horror of hiring a tow truck back to New Mexico. That, dear friends, was depression. Luckily, after about 50 minutes of charge, the dang truck started up. I was so happy I jumped out of my truck and proceeded to jump all over the parking garage, literally leaping in the air, while Matt did what he calls his "big dick dance". So, Cat jumps, Matt dances. These are priceless memories, all thanks to potential disaster.

Moral of that story is I will never, EVER go to Chicago again. So, don't ask me if you're looking for a road trip buddy to the windy shitty.

If that wasn't terror enough, Illinois decided that it would be awesome to have killer fog for a few hours. Only 40 minutes of my drive in that great state was clear enough to see anything. Freaking land of Lincoln, pssh, land of demon fog... I have never been so happy to see prairie once it lifted.

Yesterday marked the longest one-day drive of my trip, all the way from Chicago to Norman, 13 freaking hours. However, it was also the first time I had someone in the car with me, which RULED SO HARD. Matt's buddy Chelsey sat shotgun for about half the trip and we chatted and chatted. It was great to have company, but even better that the company was totally awesome. We got into Norman at about 1:00 in the morning and I slept til about 1:00 today. That ruled pretty hard too.

I ate both White Castle and Hardee's yesterday. Make the most of those regional fast food chains, you know. But, man, do I ever need to start eating some salads. I just feel slugish and so out of shape. I'm jumping on the healthy living band wagon once I get home.

Speaking of that, home. I think it finally set in today that this is over. My grand adventure, my great plan that I've had for 5 years that finally got action is up. Yes, I'm excited about getting home, seeing best friends and boyfriends and eating burritos, but damn. I just cannot believe it's up. It makes me really sad, honestly. I start full-time work on Monday. Really? But, I just cannot think of it in those terms. I'll take so many more trips like this in my life. Like I thought about leaving Canada, this is just the beginning.

There was a moment yesterday when I officially welcomed myself back to the west, when I looked up and saw this huge, open sky. I knew I missed it, but I didn't know I missed it that much. So, I'm happy to come back to all things familiar, but I can't wait to see what else there is.

New Mexico tomorrow. Mind is blown.

Joseph Smith is dum, dum, dum, dum, dum!

I was in my car for more than 20 hours on Sunday & Monday, driving over 1,000 miles. I'm now residing in good ol suburbia: Southgate, Michigan. 1,000 miles? That's a lot of state lines and photo opportunities.


It's not actually the world's largest McDonalds. But it likes to think it is. Still pretty impressive that it's a bridge.

Located in Vinita, Oklahoma, it's pretty much the most interesting thing from Norman to St. Louis. Normally, I'm a huge fan of driving through the Ozarks. It's like a mythical fairy land in the warmer months. The winter leaves it cold and a little post-apocalyptic feeling.


Missouri state line: Saddened, no sign to prove my accomplishment.

I stayed the night in a Motel 6 in Fenton, Missouri. This action; booking a motel room and staying in one, ALL BY MY LONESOME. Call me a sissy girl, but staying the night in a random motel room in a city you know little to nothing about was a kinda scary move for me.


Luckily, some White Castle helped my situation.

The next morning, I had a mission: eat breakfast under the St. Louis arch. I loved that structure as a kid, when me and my mom would hop on a Greyhound and go see her sisters in New Jersey. I loved driving by it, and secretly hated St. Louis for not having their bus station closer to its arch.


Up thure.


It was an eery morning, no warmer than 20 degrees. But, more than that, NO ONE was there. Just me and my Krispy Kreme, all alone under this giant freaking arch.


But still, mission accomplished.
(kinda in love with that photo.)


St Louis is my kind of town. I hope, I hope, I hope I find a magical, free place to stay on my way back, so I can spend hours upon days exploring all of the bridges, the abandoned buildings and factories. It's a city of jazz and I found myself so drawn to its eeriness.


Fretting in Illinois after no sign and rest area to search for sign. Has my plan to take pictures at all state lines been completely foiled by the department of transportation?!?


90% of my drive looked a lot like this, as some big ol rain clouds followed me the entire way. Most of the time, it was just pleasant, nothing threatening. And I got to break in my new tires!

Also, saw another giant, freakin cross. I like the one on I-40 better. It has a gift shop.


Indiana state line: Look how happy this jackass was.


Almost as happy as when she found a Hardees in Indianapolis.

Speaking of, cities in the midwest are my new-found love. All of this abandoned industry, there's a railyard every mile, each with their own stories, their own preservation societies, their own protective neighborhoods. Just to make way for new factories that'll be vacant in another 50 years. I'll go explore them, all of them, someday. All of this gives me so many fantastic ideas for video instillations. And where I need to spend more time on the way back.


Ohio State Line: Thanks, Ike.


I took lots of detours in Indiana and Ohio, exploring the small town farms and industry. Also, kinda fell in love with it. This trip is terrible for how much MORE it makes me want to do and explore.


Michigan State Line: Where you at?

I'm doin well in the Great Lakes state, spending lots of time with my cousin Jackie, and sleeping off a long drive. Tomorrow, we head to the Detroit Institute of Art and I will blog about driving by 8 Mile and outlit malls tomorrow.

A slow and constant ride.

At 6:37 this morning, the one known as Gata pulled out of her mother's driveway in Edgewood New Mexico and officially began her exploration of the great beyond.





Gata is currently in her second bedroom in Norman Oklahoma, where she will spend the Thanksgiving holiday.

There's a lot more to say about this. And about the fact I don't have hair anymore. But, all the Gata wishes to say right now is this:

SLIM JIM.