Sched-yule.

That title cracks me up. I am so clever sometimes.

So I am packing (or blogging perhaps) tonight for my flight outta Austin-Bergstrom International Airport after work tomorrow. I am too excited. It's been a while. My November trip home was too whirlwind to count, and I am looking forward to watching movies with Mum whilst wrapped up in a blanket with snow outside. Yes.

But I have had some interesting results in trying to see people I thought it might be nice to see. My friends who have either moved from NM before me or who have moved INTO New Mexico and had friends in other states have described this feeling to me, but I guess I never got it. However, I have made attempts to contact certain people for a casual get together involving food, and about 1/8th of those I contacted have even ackowledged me. So that whole "you know who your friends are" vibe I got from the more-experienced ex-pats is true.

And I understand that most of my friends still run on a school schedule wherein students think they have a right to ignore people for a semester...I did it too. But I guess I wish I hadn't. And I am trying to make amends and I am trying to keep something going. Sometimes I guess you just have to let things go.

And might I add, the people who read this, or call me, or let me call them, or who I know I'll see because we just work that way...this is not about them. And my good friends are copious and this is not a "Woe is me, I'm lonely" post. I guess the "working world" and all my networking and such has made me expect perhaps simple acknowledgement of an email. It's pretty basic. And sometimes I do let voicemails go for way too long a time...and maybe some people work better by voice and some by text.

It just seems that those who I have made an effort with and who make an effort with me...even though they are busy in school or are having babies or changing jobs...those are the ones who are worth the phone tag anyway. Maybe it's best not to mourn the loss of those who chose to fall off the map. I only have so many hours in the day. They are probably saying the same thing about me.

Wow. I resolved my issue all in one blog ramble. :) I hope again this doesn't sound whiny, because it's just fact. And to you my buddies who ramble along with me in this crazy life, thank you. I really could not do it without you.

Good buy.

So, I buy a lot of stuff I don't really NEED. We all do. And sometimes I have the immense burning desire to sell it all, or give it away, or just chuck it off the balcony. I mean, I moved it 750 miles to Austin and I put it on a shelf and I have not touched it in 6 months. Is that what we call a "necessary" possession? But then again, some of it is just that keepsakey stuff we have to have. Things I WANT to look at maybe...3 months from now. Just to know where I've been and what I've done.

But I digress. I realized Sunday while driving to San Antonio for a house concert (Susan's not mine) that the purchases I made at the UNM Bookstore over a year ago are quite possibly some of the best-used items I own. I had gotten paid for a gig in UNM money, meaning I had $100 to blow on Lobo Goods. It took a good bit of wandering around to plan my attack. It was Fall of 2005, and I was graduating soon. I knew that post-graduation would require...a roadmap. So I bought an atlas. I was also feeling a bit nostalgic for my soon-to-be alma mater, and also a little bit cold...so I bought a black zip-up hoodie with LOBOS written across the front. I had also impulse purchased an iPod earlier that summer and decided...I needed the iTrip adapter for my car radio. Hells yeah.

So while driving to San Antonio on a lovely rainy Texas Sunday, wearing my Lobo hoodie and listening to a swath of random songs on a mix...and having to consult my atlas because MAPQUEST SUCKS and made up a street name entirely...(like...this street did not exist. And honest to goodness this was the one time I was thrilled to have the actual artist's cell phone number to get directions to a show, haha)...I realized I had gotten constant use out of this collection of Lobo-ized gear.

Those three items have gone on a lot of journeys with me and I thought it was the most random purchase at the time, but I chose well I guess.

Now to get rid of all the other crap around here!

MemeTime

Name your top 10 most played bands on iTunes

1. Shedaisy
   
2. Mary Chapin Carpenter
   
3. Rosanne Cash
   
4. Sugarland
5. John Jennings
   
6. Kathleen Edwards
   
7. Sara Evans
   
8. Susan G.
   
9. Dixie Chicks
   
10. Soul Miner's Daughter
    

What was the first song you ever heard by 6?
"Six O'Clock News" I think on David Letterman. Ben and I bought the CD that night on Amazon. The rest is...well, I love Kathleen. Haha.

What is your favorite album of 2?

Stones in the Road

What is your favorite lyric that 5 has sung? Oh that JJ. I love:

"Maybe one day we can make our amends, but for now with all due respect please do not call. Cause I can't think of you without stalling again. I love you, goddamn you, that's all."

How many times have you seen 4 live?
Once. I hope to see them in Houston this spring, though! Loves.

What is your favorite song by 7?
"New Hometown" - and that was before she was all tabloided out. Oy. Poor Sara.

What is a good memory you have involving the music of 10?
The last semester of college I got really into Soul Miner's Daughter, and I would take my iPod with their CDs loaded and walk to Starbucks in Nob Hill on gloriously crisp fall days and enjoy a pumpkin spice latte and write for hours, and then I would walk home with more Soul Miner. I miss those days. Except I have more free time now and could do the same, haha. I guess I miss Nob Hill!

Is there a song of 3 that makes you sad?
Black Cadillac, because it is about her father passing away, and I am really sad I only grew to appreciate Johnny Cash after he died.

What is your favorite lyric that 2 has sung?

Oh come on, one Chapin lyric? Ok. This one:

How did you get into 3?
Back when my grandma lived in Kansas she had Rosanne's album "King's Record Shop" on tape and after I started playing guitar I became obsessed with that album, especially "Green, Yellow, Red" with its awesome guitar solos and once I borrowed the tape and took it home to Albuquerque and copied it and mailed it back to Grandma. Those were ghetto media days.

What was the first song you heard by 1?
I know "Little Goodbyes" came out first but I hated them then...and then "I Will...But" came out and loved them, haha. I judged their image too quickly like everyone else does. I was just able to rise above bad marketing and recognize brilliant lyrics.

What is your favorite song by 4?
Sugarland has hit the nail on the head of my desire not to work a 9-5 on both of their CDs, the first being "Something More" and the new CD has "Settlin'" which I am obsessed with.

How many times have you seen 9 live?
Thankfully as of last Monday I can comfortably say: once.

What is a good memory you have involving 2?

Well, once I flew to Atlanta to meet a large group of people and conga around Chastain amphitheatre at her concert. And when I conga'd past the stage I flashed her a peace sign AND SHE WINKED AT ME. I am such a nerd. But man, if that was not one of the funnest days of my life.

Is there a song of 8 that makes you sad?
Well, there's this new song that I am sure has a title, but the killer line goes:

I like the feel of you next to me, but that's not love, that's geography.

Ouch.

What is your favorite album of 5?




What is your favorite lyric that 3 has sung?

God is in the roses
The petals and thorns
Storms out on the oceans
The souls who will be born
And every drop of rain that falls
Falls for those who mourn
God is in the roses and the thorns

What is your favorite song of 1?
Man, probably "Love Goes On" because it is just perfection lyrically, vocally, and instrumentally. Also Beth heard me awaken to it every day for about 4 months. Sorry, Beth.

What is your favorite song of 10?
Cross Ties -- my introduction to Jennifer Nettles singing non-Sugarland.

How many times have you seen 8 live?
Pfffffffffffffffffft. Seriously like too many to name.

What is your favorite album of 1?
Knock on the Sky, oddly not the album that contains my favorite song. It is a gem, and the antithesis of the sophomore slump.

What is a great memory you have considering 9?

Well. I don't think I have told many people this but I loved "Wide Open Spaces" and CMT had this program where they'd play a music video and people would write in and tell how that song affected their lives, and CMT would scroll the text while the video played. So I got my little blurb about Wide Open Spaces on CMT. I have it on VHS somewhere. Nerd.

What was the first song you heard by 8?
Wide Open Spaces

What is your favorite cover by 2?
Hm. I think maybe...Dancing in the Dark by Bruce Springsteen. She doesn't really need to do a lot of covers. Oh, and she does a mean Price cover, too.

One of the most beautiful things...

I have ever seen occurred this week while I was driving to choir practice. I was on I-35 going North, it had just turned cold and was in the 30's. It was about 6:00 PM, and the sun had mostly set. There were clouds in the sky so it was a greyish-green hue.

The interstate lights cast an orange glow along my path, and an ambulance with its lights flashing was ahead of me. It took the exit to 183 North, which involves looping back up over I-35, right over where I was driving.

So there I am listening to Imogen Heap's "The Walk" which is my new favorite song, and this ambulance is suspended above me in concrete on the ramp, and the lights are flashing in time to the song. And the orange-grey concrete against the green sky with the yellow ambulance and the flashing red lights to the beat of Imogen...wow. I can't explain it.

I'm so postmodern-industrial.

repentence and deconstruction

It took me a whole day realize how stupid the below post is. Good lord.

As with all freak outs a several things collapsed on me at once, and I over-reacted. Also, I don't take criticism well. Don't criticize me for that.

The below rant is mostly an inability to remember to count my blessings. It is also a fear of not getting what I want so much. I think that is normal.

Also, I said some silly things about the "product" I sell, and I want to make clear I don't mean like...my music. I mean...I think I can do better. And I feel like a 2nd grader who wants to do Calculus. I know I can do it but I don't have the tools yet. Or something. So while I will not force everyone who has bought my CD to burn it, I just hope...I can do better. That's all.

I am a whiny jerk. I love my life. I do. Sorry.

crank.

i am freaking sick and freaking tired. i don't even know of what. i am tired of scratching my way up this "thing" i have invented in my mind called a "path" that is probably going to disappoint me whatever way it turns out. i fear i have talked myself into one route to happiness. maybe should accept life as it is. and maybe i can't do anything better than a CD that is in my brain riddled with flaws when i listen to it. yeah, that's right. it ticks me off to listen to myself.

i am tired of sycophants i meet in this "music world" who falsely boost my ego probably because maybe i don't even know why. i've met some jerks lately.

i don't want to be a just another folk songwriter that maybe luckily uses "different words" to describe the same emotion every freaking human being feels and understands and doesn't need to be reminded of anyway. oh look, i can thumb through a thesaurus. i'm special.

i don't want a profession that can't solve world hunger and poverty. and nothing has so far. so i guess i'm out of luck. too bad.

i am sick of listening to music and comparing myself to it. i am never good enough.

i am tired of little conquests that keep me trying for the next week until that little conquest and false ego boost wears off and i am stuck with myself again.

i want to freaking move to freaking boston or alaska or paris where i don't know anybody and i won't meet anybody so no one will know me at all and maybe i'll write a crap book and they'll publish it when i die in my apartment alone because what a weird little hermit she was. geez. crap.

i am tired of working around people who seem to be self-actualized or who are at least working on something they feel passionate about. i am tired of phoning it in. i am jealous of them.

but as per the above rant, what the crap am i SUPPOSED to do? am i supposed to shut up and sit down and QUIT trying to "find myself" or am i supposed to just accept that life usually doesn't work out according to all those unhappy people wandering around out there?

maybe i'll regret this in a week. whatever.

Imogen F-in' Heap

Oh my. I just saw an amazing concert. Now, I realize that whenever I see a concert, I say: "This is the most amazing thing I have ever seen and it has changed my life," but really...it's usually true. This time I learned a whole lot from a British girl with a fluffy pink dress, Bride-of-Frankenstein hair, and a see-through piano. Miss Imogen Heap, meet my list of life-changers.

She is pretty hypnotic and trance-inducing on her album "Speak For Yourself," but I was not prepared for the level of rock and roll goddess that Imogen is...she had the whole venue jumping up and down and she grooves like...well, a British girl on speed. Or something. She really is so very British, and says cute British things between songs. "Roight. Well then, are we all doing all right? Good." God love that accent.

That is one of her many keyboards that she hauls out and loops and mixes and it's insane. She starts the show by introducing her "band" -- and runs us through her whole set up from her Mac to her MIDI interface to her see-through grand piano shell that houses more electronics. It is so bizarre. It all worked well tonight, though her blog documents an equipment meltdown, which I am sure occurs sometimes. It's almost enough to make me sell my guitars and buy a keyboard and a pink dress, but then I think maybe wood and strings are a little simpler for me to handle. But maybe I can start hopping around. I'd like that.

Gimme Some Sugarland

Well. After deciding that the American work week should be 35 hours MAX, and more like 30 hours...and after catching up on my sleep finally, and after spending my birthday week contemplating my finances, future expenditures, savings, and investments (yes...I have investments now)...I took some time to chill with my newest vice acquisition. CDs (and NOT certificates of deposit, sorry) will always be a weakness. Screw iTunes. I wants me some liner notes and a disc I can rip and burn and rip again.

Oh yeah, so the new Sugarland CD kicks. I was a bit sad because after kicking the folky-songwriter member out of the band, it is utterly clear they are going for Nashville superstardom. But I have always harbored a secret love and admiration for the Nashvillians, and while I hate a lot of them, a lot of them make dang near perfect music. It's like a well-crafted pop song. You can't deny it's good. And Nashville music to me means giant stadiums full of pulsating fans and maybe a lead singer who can play an instrument...with song that speak to us all on a general level. Thankfully Sugarland offers that. (I guess secretly one day I want a giant stadium full of pulsating fans. Yeah, pretty much I want it).

Anyway, to put a fine point on it, Jennifer Nettles offers that. Man. I mean really. I own her pre-Sugarland albums from the folky days to the jazzy days to the rock days...and even if her music is different her voice sure as heck cannot be hidden. Beth once described Joss Stone's voice as "liquid sex," I think (right, Beth?). I think Jennifer's would be like..."liquid Southern sex on the rocks." Or something. I am just babbling now. Quit laughing, Beth.

And the songs address a lot of what I have been pondering..."normal lives" and "settling down" versus following dreams and all that junk. In a happy Nashville package. I win.

Up for this week: 3 days o' work and then Thanksgiving in the country!!! Log cabins and all!

Woman sakes alive.

I love saying "man sakes alive" and I have no clue where I got it. People think I'm weird.

Ok so my neighbors who succeed in blowing me off all the time (and perhaps they think they same of me but I swear I have tried) just got "DirectTV" or some such crap that requires a satellite dish attached to their railing which I swear makes the whole landing that I walk up every day very ugly. If I ever have to move furniture that sucker is "accidentally" going down. Ugh. Why spend the cash to have a dish that makes you sit inside all day and uglifies the outside when you can not have it, sit outside, and enjoy the view?

So I got played on two podcasts this week. That was pretty cool. NetteRadio, a show out of Dallas, even like...bio'd me. She bio's everyone on her show, and I dunno how many submissions she gets a week, but I felt pretty kickass for 30 seconds there. Then I got over it and did my dishes.

I think I dislike working not because of anything visceral...in fast, my new office has a lot of very nice people in it and I foresee myself getting to know many of them quite well. However, I feel like I do not earn my money every day. I do work all day (unless I am checking email haha), and I am useful, helpful...all of those things. But it's like my paycheck is disconnected from my job. The money floats in randomly and I don't feel my work as being of any greater use except making my office's paper flow work better. This is clearly a temporary situation. I need to last a year, if not 18 months, though. I need the cash. The disconnected cash. at least at CAPS I believed in their greater mission AND I was involved on a personal level with my employers. I guess I had it good back then.

I much prefer playing a gig, getting paid after putting my guitar away, and enjoying my night. I feel like I earn things that way, instead of just having it bestowed on me whilst I waste away in a climate controlled asbestos free office.

Some might call me whiny. My mom calls me special. ;)

Mmmm Texas. New Mexico. Seattle.

I am sitting out on my patio in my $6 Target canvas chair (green) with my laptop sufficiently mooching wireless internet. It's about 60 degrees and lovely.

I made it back with nary a scratch on myself or my car...New Mexico was good. Texas is good. I dunno...I like both places. I was a little scared I would either:

a) realize how much I miss home and cry a lot when I had to come back
b) realize I somehow hated NM and never knew it (a little silly of me)

Neither happened. I realized you can't beat the view of the Sandias against a blue sky, or the smell of cedar in the air, or gathering in person with a large group of friends, or Mom's ribs! However, I guess I still have some things to finish. Or start. Or something. Bizarre. The fact that I will be back to NM in a little over a month is also comforting. Right now I feel very much like an American citizen but not necessarily as belonging to any state. Hrm.

When I was wandering around Seattle in February of this year, a rotund street preacher guy stopped me outside of Starbucks at Pike's Place Market, and he said, "Miss Jana, the Lord told me to tell you that this is your year. He's got so many blessings for you that you won't know what to do with them." And I told him thanks and kept walking.

But I think he might have been right.

Bah, I say!

Just bah.

Oh yeah that.

L.I.S.A. - I would comment tons on your blog but I went and "upgraded" to some sort of Google integrated Blogger account and now I cannot comment on "unintegrated accounts" and that is lame.

So anyway...I am in love with the band Gomez.

My first week of work went very fast. I am happy about that.

My weekends are shorter now. I am sad about that.

I want to run out and buy a Gomez CD right now. I feel guilty about that.

I just ate too much popcorn. Sad.

My job is organizing things. Happy.

Anne Heche in a TV show kissing boys. Amused.

Started a new song. Thrilled.

Can't finish song. Impatient.

Cleaned apartment last night. Amazed.

Cherry Limeade Crystal Light. Unimpressed.

Lisa and JE quote me around the house. Giggly.

Feelin' all right. Good.

Rant

I do NOT understand how the supposedly most visited site on the internet...yes, Myspace, can stay in business as the social networking standard when at LEAST 3 times a day depending on my will to click again and again and again...I get this...

"Sorry! Unexpected error occurred" bullcrap.

Unexpected my butt. If you don't have enough server capacity to serve 4.5 billion people at a time, then maybe you shouldn't be adding crap to your already overloaded site like Dane Cook movie promotions and Tv on Demand and MySpace IM (what the crap?). Hmmm? HMMMM?

I realize it's free, but it is frustrating. That is all.

Thoughts for Tuesday

Look at me, blogging all over the place.

- I got my driver's license in the mail today, and if I may...big sigh of relief. It's a good photo! I can live with it until 2012. That's weird to think of me in 2012. Think of yourself in 2012 and tell me your thoughts.

- Parents and kids and doctors. This is what I overheard at the Doc's office today. My coworker called a mom to tell her some test results.

"Ma'am, we got the results back and your child does have a fracture in her foot and needs to see a specialist."

...(pause while mom talks)...

"No ma'am, she can't play soccer."

Oh my goodness! People! Also, I fielded a call from a Dad today who wanted to make an appointment for Thursday. The problem? "My son...he hurt his arm. And we think it might be sprained. Or broken." I did my best to make him come in today but he never showed up for the appointment. BROKEN. ARM. Thursday sounds good to get that taken care of. Geez.

I Was a Tuff Kid

Ok, first I must say the new Shawn Colvin is brilliant and probably my favorite album by her thus far. She wrote a song called "Tuff Kid." Need I say more?

So I took a job with the county government. The job I whined about wanting/not wanting before, because I am a Chimaeric loser who has no clue what to do with her life. Just kidding. I made the decision last week and am still excited about it. Or maybe I am excited about the guilt-free spending of money, after a good 10 months of guilt-ridden money spending, hm?

I will address my decision (this is more for me than for you but if you care, by all means comment on how I rock/suck) with the very list I used to justify NOT wanting the job below. I said I wanted:

- money to pay rent, utilities, gas, food. Which, when adding it all up after working for the Good Doctor for 2 months now...well, I'd need supplemental income, which was kind of freaking me out. Who wants to hire someone on Wednesdays and Fridays only? I no longer have to check every job website I've ever bookmarked daily. Nice.

- some extra to invest into music items such as press kit printings, posters, swag, and gear. Ideally, music will eventually pay for music, but that ain't never gonna happen unless I work at this with everything I have. Oddly this issue came to an illuminating blinding brightness in the past few weeks...money was going to have to be spent, and where was I going to get it? I do think after a good...5 years...I might be making real musical income (i.e. 5 bucks a week, haha). Now, not so much. This is realistic.

- TIME. I need time to write, to network in the evenings, to do the enormous amount of online maintenance and correspondence that needs doing, to practice, to be available at the last minute. Also factored into my decision. The plus about a government job is that usually...it ends at 5. No schedule switching, no late night shifts, etc. Also, no weekends, ever. So that's reassuring. This was the first job I applied to that could guarantee that. (That and the IRS, but numbers and tax law and I aren't very best of friends). Also, I realized that on my two days off during the week, I waste a LOT of time. Like..a lot. Bumming, TV surfing, email checking, etc. So I am simply going to have to (gasp!) grow as a human being and learn to manage my time better. I will be just as productive as I was watching Tyra...and perhaps a bit more cultured. Sorry, Tyra. Now pray for my mortal time managing soul.

- the freedom to take a 3 day weekend and play a gig somewhere outside of Austin. Do mini-tours. Go back to Albuquerque. Well...in a perfect world my perfect job would allow for me to say "I'm leaving!" and not care and still pay for my vision benefits. Hehheh, that will come one day. For now, the government thing is a pretty sweet deal in terms of holidays, too. It just takes planning. "Is it the 3rd Tuesday of the month again? Let's have a holiday!!"

- a job that when the time does come to do a longer jaunt on the road, won't make me feel like a heartless jerk for quitting. Another hard one. After a frank discussion with my Life Guru, she pointed out that yes...it is just an admin job. And I am not devoting the next 20 years of my life to an admin job, nor would I ever be expected to do so. Hence, she said if I gave them a year, I could quit guilt-free. And that's what I plan to do...thereabouts.

I'm fund-raising for my bigger life goal, I am getting a chance to stretch some CAPS and KNME skillz, I am GETTING AN OFFICE (giddy time), and I'm being a productive human being, all the while keeping the bigger picture in mind. So there we go. Selling out...earns me a trip to Target, hehhehheh.

Life is good...but here's a song anyway.

Well, one verse to a song. :)

I am a hopeless little sinner
I don't try that much
I am a hanger-on and I drink my bitters
And I don't look before I touch
I don't look before I touch

MCC Said It:

He played a lot of places
Where the only wages
Were food and beer for free
He played fancy licks
And he had him a gift
For the kinds of songs he'd sing

But you do what you can
To be a satisfied man
Just to have your peace of mind
So he gave it all up for a government job
Where the paychecks come on time.

(Further justification of this life choice to follow. I can't believe myself).

I Am A Selfish Jerk.

What am I supposed to do? How is it that my life winds its way around into grand examples of irony at every turn? See the previous post. See how I feel a little content with my choices for myself finally? And don't get me wrong...I still am, with every fibre of my being.

However, I had a great job interview today. Which is just awful. I wanted it to go badly, so I could skip out of the room and think "Oh well!" This job is bad because it offers:
- a cool work environment
- my own OFFICE.
- medical/dental/vision benefits
- a retirement fund
- my OWN OFFICE. Love.

Yeah, see how much that stinks? Now, I realize that I have not been offered the job yet, but what if they do? What will I say?

a) Duh, Jana. You need health insurance and some cash flow, plus a place to work up. Do it.
b) Hello? Who just decided to work 30 hours/week to have more time to focus on the real reason for moving to Austin?

Sigh. People would think I'm an absolute loon for turning an offer like that down, but I think my gut says I have to. What do I want? A list:

- money to pay rent, utilities, gas, food.
- some extra to invest into music items such as press kit printings, posters, swag, and gear. Ideally, music will eventually pay for music, but that ain't never gonna happen unless I work at this with everything I have.
- TIME. I need time to write, to network in the evenings, to do the enormous amount of online maintenance and correspondence that needs doing, to practice, to be available at the last minute.
- the freedom to take a 3 day weekend and play a gig somewhere outside of Austin. Do mini-tours. Go back to Albuquerque.
- a job that when the time does come to do a longer jaunt on the road, won't make me feel like a heartless jerk for quitting.

Is that selfish? Is it impractical? I told Josh today that I don't think it's utterly impractical because we ARE approaching this in as practical of a manner that we can. I'm not sitting on my butt waiting for gigs to come, or waiting for songs to come anymore. I spent 5 years in college putting things off. Saying "oh I'll write more in the summer." Or "too bad that gig is on a school night." It didn't get things done. Things are happening NOW, and I think I just have to ride this wave out until it ends. Am I a dreamer? Yeah. But I guess I'd rather be one of those than in perpetual "I'll do it when I have more time" mode...been there, done that...not fun, just depressing.

And is it selfish? Susan once said she chose a job that gives her applause every 3.5 minutes for a reason. True. I get that rush, I really do. But who does anything toward their ultimate career goal that does not involve that little bit of selfishness? A lawyer wins a trial, a doctor saves a life, a philantropist feeds a child...a musician connects with another human being? Is that so bad to have that rush? I love playing music, I love writing it, I love listening to other people play it, I love shaking hands and adding Myspace friends and driving and setting up and I love watching people from my corner in the coffeehouse. I love it all. I don't want to give it up. I don't want to make a decision that will force me to compromise. I'm done with compromise.

"It goes all night like a broken record..."

the studio
Originally uploaded by Czech Girl.

Hm. Friday. Sweet.

I think I might have passed over the "3 month hump" of living in a new place, because I feel happy lately. I mean, I was never miserable here...well, ok maybe. Let's break it down:

June: Moved. Spent the majority of the time settling, driving around, getting the lay of the land, feeling like an outsider. Went back to ABQ in the middle of the month, didn't feel like I had been gone at all.

July: Freaking hot. Oppressively hot. Freaked out about jobs. Looking for a full time job. Convinced I need benefits and 40 hours to even survive. One gig. Listless, lazy days. Open mics at night. No direction. Positive life was passing me by and all my old friends forgot about me.

August: Still freaking hot, but used to it. Still freaked out about jobs. Decide to "business-ize" the music, make progress organizing my life and giving purpose. Start waking up at 7 AM or earlier every day, find that I get things done in the morning and feel better. Get a part time job. Acclimate pretty well. Enjoy income. Schedule September gigs.

September: Come to the conclusion that I want a 25-30 hour/week job that pays decently so I can work the other 30 hours/week on music and probably another 10-20 on performing and networking. Schedule more gigs. Meet more people. Get Texas plates, quit feeling like an imposter. Feel at home. Marvel at how well I fit this place. Write a lot. Finish songs. I hope this mindset continues.

So my cousin called yesterday all sad about his new military living quarters, and the attitiude of people there. It's definitely a switch for him, but I told him (since he'll be there for at least 2 years) that he needs to give it 3 months to settle. By then he won't be the new kid on base anymore, and his fellow base-livers will get to know him. And in no time he'll be the "old timer" and forget these initial awkward days. I do believe that. That's all you can tell yourself.

Happy Austin City Limits Festival Weekend. That means that Lamar, the street I live along, will be crowded with thousands of tourists for three whole days. I did not buy a ticket, but next year I will. I'm sad I'm missing Kathleen Edwards (and about 60 other people but I lurve Kathleen like I love popcorn). I think I'll avoid traffic all day if I can except to pick up my paycheck and play the gig. Free coffee. Awesome.

This just in: I have a lead on a PAPASAN CHAIR!!! $35 and green. Mmm. I look at it tomorrow. And then hopefully try and fit it into my car. Ow.

The Ballad of the Neighbors

John and Grace grew up together in the same small East Texas town. Their parents were in the same social circles, and they went to school together all through high school. They knew of each other as acquaintances, but nothing much beyond that. After graduation, John went off to school at UT in Austin, and Grace went to get her masters in education. She was a self-described hippie kid, trying whatever drug was in fashion at the time. She swears she never took anything with a needle.

Grace married Bill, just a guy with a job, and they had two kids. While she taught music lessons to earn some money, most of her life consisted of being married to Bill. He was one of those demanding husbands who liked things "just so," and his idea of a fun weekend was fishing on the lake with Grace in tow. Grace really didn't know much else, so that's what they did. She called it happiness.

Meanwhile, John lived out his years at UT having what some might term...too good of a time. He was on the football team, and also hung out in the legendary Austin music scene. A pretty decent fiddle player, John hung out with many of the guys who are in well-known Texas bands today. John never really fit in among the musicians, though...and as a skinny kid, he probably never fit in among the football players, either. He did partake in the drug scene, snorting coke and who knows what else.

John graduated from UT and went on to medical school in Dallas. There's a failed marriage and a son in there somewhere, though the details are sketchy. About a decade in to his medical career, John was arrested for writing himself Vicodin prescriptions. His license was revoked and he was charged with a 3rd degree felony. He served out 10 years of parole without practicing medicine.

In the meantime, Grace's husband was slowly succumbing to cancer. It was a painful death, and Grace found God after a lifetime without religion. She said daily prayer and affirmations of strength were the only thing that got her through the illness. John had heard about Bill's diagnosis, and small town circles are always connected, so John sent word of a doctor who might be of use to Bill's treatment. By then it was too late, but Grace took note of John's concern.

Bill died in January of 2006. John was invited to the funeral, and there he moved Grace to tears with an acapella version of Vince Gill's "Go Rest High on That Mountain." While John was trying to piece together life in East Texas and Grace was living in Austin, a "romance by phone" blossomed in the following months. By May, John moved to Austin and Grace used some of her life insurance settlement money to rent him a studio apartment. In June, they moved into a two bedroom apartment and furnished it to the nines. A baby grand piano, because John insisted that Grace indulge her love of music. A big screen TV to watch the beloved Longhorns. Plenty of beer in the fridge.

Life looked pretty good to the neighbor kid upstairs who encountered John moving into that new apartment. The music was free-flowing and Grace's cats were friendly. It seemed like a charmed life. John was expecting to find a job any day now, and Grace was going to find some former piano students and start teaching lessons again. A new life together after so much heartbreak, Grace's being so recent, seemed like a promising thing. It was a fairytale match...two small town friends reunited after 25 years. They went out to bars, watched live music, played piano and sang Hank Williams songs until 2 am.

Grace had battled her addictions, spending time in the hospital years back to get off alcohol and prescription drugs. By the time Bill died and John came along, she was a clean living music teacher. John didn't seem to drink much beyond the usual...a beer or two at the dancehall as all Texans do. After a month of living together, Grace noticed this changing. His drinking would start at noon and soon 11 AM and then 10. A beer was a constant fixture in John's hand, whether he was calling the Mexican Consulate to see if they would let him practice medicine in Mexico or he was watching the neighbor kid at an open mic. He would lie about how many beers he had drank that day, and Grace would later find out from a friend of John's that he probably had a bottle of whiskey hidden in the car, too. That's how John worked. Maybe he was off the coke and the prescriptives, but the Lonestar beer wasn't going anywhere.

When he drank he got mean. When Grace threatened to do something about his problem, he would grab onto her arms and squeeze so hard she had bruises. One day the neighbor kid recalls hearing about a jammed finger, from unpacking moving boxes. It turns out she had hit John so hard one night, her ring finger jammed. Grace had started drinking again, too. She couldn't let John have all the fun, and the initial honeymoon period of their relationship brought ample opportunity for her to match his efforts.

With John's drinking becoming constant and Grace's money leaving her bank account en masse (a new guitar for John here, a fiddle bow for John there, a stack of CDs for John...), she knew she had to act. She pondered it for weeks, and one Wednesday morning, she found an opportunity.

She knew she had to catch him before he started drinking, because Sober John was...well, whipped. He truly did love Grace, and in his moments of lucidity, would do anything for her. So Grace had to turn stark raving mad. At 9:30 AM while they were having coffee, Grace swung her mood from tranquil to irate, telling John to go put on his best shirt and boots and go out and apply for a job. She raised so much hell that John immediately obeyed and changed clothes. She kept yelling, asking for his keys. Asking for his wallet so she could take back anything that was hers.

When he walked out the door into the muggy Austin morning, Grace locked the door behind him. She felt a slight feeling of elation. She called her son-in-law, worried that John might try to come back. The son-in-law encountered John walking down the street later that morning, and threatened to kill him if he ever set foot near Grace again.

The next day, the neighbor kid got home from work late in the afternoon. There was a knock at the door. Expecting that John wanted her to come down and play music with him and Grace, she tried to dismiss him. However, on seconed glance, it was quite obvious he looked like hell.

"I need a friend. Grace kicked me out. I've been drinking for 3 days. Tell me what to do."

Then he broke down. The neighbor kid, being a whole inexperienced 23 years old, suggested rehab and a minister. Other than a pat on the back, there wasn't much else to be said. John limped down the stairs and hasn't been seen since.

Apparently, he checked himself into rehab. Grace wrote him every day for 2 weeks, cussing him out and encouraging him, but becoming more and more enraged at how he took advantage of her for 6 months, how he capitalized on her pain. John asked that Grace bring him some new clothes and his hat during visiting hours last Sunday.

She never went. John sat for four hours last Sunday, waiting for the love of his life to bring him his Longhorns cap. Over a Bloody Mary with the neighbor kid that night, Grace expressed her fears. "You kind of expect life to get easier when you get older...things to settle down, to have a lot of money in the bank. Things don't always turn out like that." She's a self-supporting woman now, for the first time. There's no one waiting for her at home except the cats.

Grace stumbled back to her apartment, the neighbor kid unlocking the door for her because she is too inebriated to match key to lock.

"Do you ever feel scared?" Grace asks.

"No, I don't," is the only reply.

Here I Am

I had a dream the other night that there was a flood where I lived and I went to see my house in the aftermath and all I recall from the dream is pulling out my guitars from the rubble and having them be completely and utterly destroyed. I felt such an intense feeling of sadness that I woke myself up. I'm not sure if that means I am too attached to my guitars or what. I don't think I am necessarily attached to them as objects...moreso what they allow me to do and where they have gone with me. My Martin that I bought 5 years ago has been across the country a few times, and to every gig I've had. I say it's earned the right to be in the family. It was a weird dream, whatever it meant. Also the dream made me realize I never, ever want to live through a flood or a hurricane. Ergh.

I went through the process of being a legal Texan yesterday. I have stickers on my windshield, license plates, and tomorrow morning I will complete the process and get a license. Even though it cost me a couple hundred bucks (gah), I have to say I felt an immense sense of pride and excitement when I got those plates. I am now "from" Austin.

Otherwise I'm exhausted today. I dunno why. Could be the insomnia. ;)

File Under: Huh?

Things I've heard lately that I'm not sure what to think about:


"I saw your website. It's cute." Someone said that to me. I was confused. I hate that word.


Newspaper Ad: "American Idol Tour comes to Austin...sponsored by Pop Tarts!"


And lastly:

Make your own sanitary pads! For the frugal liver. I guess I'm not that frugal.

Oh my gaaaaawd.

So tired. So so so tired. Right now I am trying to resolve the issue of having two separate mailing lists for gigs in Albuquerque and Austin, because it's complicated to to have two but people in ABQ don't wanna hear when I'm playing in TX and vice versa...but the good news is I am doing this because I got a gig at a local Farmer's Market this weekend and I need to promote! Woohoo! I have always wanted to play one of those things, so I asked. And it worked. Always ask.

I had a hell of a weekend. It started lamely enough...I had plans of laundry and cleaning. I enaged in some thrift store wandering whereupon I scored some awesome wall decoration...


and had to explain to the lady behind me in line that no, Civil War songs sung by large choral groups was not my musical taste. Then I gave her a business card and told her to come to a gig. She was pleasant. Her name was Carmen.

Then I went to see Susan play and somehow out of that I ended up in Wimberley, TX on Saturday night at her house whereupon I partook of the ale and wore a mullet wig while laughing at fart jokes. Those are just good times all around. I slept out on the covered back porch which totally just made me want to own a house with a back porch because it was pretty sweet. Although you'd have to live in the country, because if you had a back porch in the city you would be listening to the sweet sound of vagabonds tramping through your yard instead of crickets, I am pretty sure. So Lisa, mayhaps you can just fly to my farm in Texas and sleep on my porch and then once every five years or so you can go to my farm in Virginia, haha. (I love how I invent fake money with which to buy fake houses).

So I went to sleep on Sunday morning at 5 AM and awoke at the butt crack of 7 AM to drive back into Austin and be at the Austin Hot Sauce Festival at 9 AM. That's a lot of AMs all in a row, people. Too many for me to handle.



me. awake. sunglasses to dull the brightness of the AMs. gah.

However, since this volunteer position had turned into a paid one and I am a poor little FFAer (Future Farmer of America, you know it), I got my arse up there. Whereupon I was informed I would be working in the beer tent. Whereupon I then stood around looking at the grass for 3 hours because you can't sell beer on Sunday in Texas until noon. At least I was getting paid. So for five straight hours I explained, "We have Ziegenbock on draft and Bud, Bud Light, and Bud Select in cans and they all cost four dollars. Yes, four dollars for a can of Bud. You're the one that came to the Hot Sauce Festival, buddy." No no, everyone was very nice and happy that I was selling them beer because it was 100 degrees out and mouths were probably burning at a whole 106 degrees.

I say 106 because come on. I have been to the International Fiery Foods Show in Albuquerque and no little park event with tables set up in the grass is gonna top a convention center full of stuff from around the world. I mean, it's cute that they try, and it's cute that they call it "hot sauce" even though salsa is not sauce and neither is jam and neither is guacamole. And I'm sure the habanero stuff was dang hot and it's great to have a taste of home around here...but Texans still don't understand that water and beer are just swilling the capsaicin around in your mouth. I suggested to one person that she should try dairy or honey to kill the burn instead of water and she was like..."hot sauce and ice cream? Ew."

Some people don't know what they're missing.

Genuine Joe

Yeah I'm slow and yeah so sue me. I'm sitting in this cute coffeehouse waiting on an open mic to start and it's really how I envision my living room being at my quaint Virginia farm when I buy it. :) The walls are a calming green and the sofa is yellow and 30 years old but not hippie-gross if you know what I mean. Rock on. Also they sell POPCORN but I spent all my cash on coffee before I noticed that, dangit.

So the other night driving home from another open mic (this is my 3rd one this week), I got off the interstate about 4 blocks from my place and I swear, I saw 4 sets of cops and flashing lights for traffic stops. One every block. I am not exaggerating. It made me kinda happy I was not speeding at the time, really. And then I wondered if all 4 of them were just hiding in the bushes and pounced at the same time or something. Weird.

This place has what is called a "Dr. Smoothie" which makes me think of Dr. Pepper but it looks like a regular old latte and the combination sounds gross and I'm sure it has nothing to do with soda but what the hey.

I have recently started making the tranistion into treating music as a business as well as an art form, and so far I think I am learning a little. I have been forcing myself to get up at 7 AM and actually find it to be a good time to write and get things done. It also, somehow, makes me less tired during the day. I think it's because I am finding more purpose instead of just floating around in job and gig limbo. I find my schedule to be more akin to ye olde college days...work during the day, and then work more at night in terms of either practice or playing out. Which really, I have found, leaves no room for a social life. Thus I understand why many of the artists I love have personal lives that are in the crapper...except the fortunate thing about music is it has its own built in social life. So I am not lacking in people-contact, it's just the people contact is usually at a bar or coffeehouse. Eh. It works. Goodness knows there will always be something to whine about, I know that. So I might as well start here.

Otherwise...well. I dunno. It's been a good week. I like Austin. I miss Albuquerque. I don't think I can ask for anything different at this point. Quite.

Imported Goodness.

Hatch Green Chile
Originally uploaded by Czech Girl.

So apparently the local Central Market grocery store has a Hatch green chile festival every year, with a fresh batch trucked over the border for the Austinites. The store was decorated in all things New Mexico, with chile roasting, chile sausage, chile SCONES (have not gotten any yet), pinon coffee and zia suns everywhere. As I was driving this AM I saw a New Mexico license plate in front of me and I wondered if perhaps I had magically been transported back home. Then I saw someone dressed in UT burnt orange and got over that fantasy "right quick."

There's really nothing for me to say that all 3 of you who read this don't already know. I guess I could document it for later reading. I got a part time job so that I have less time to look for a full time job but more money, haha. Yaaaaaaaay.

Friday night I went to the legendary honky tonk "The Broken Spoke." It was rather charming...lots of people two-stepping and lots of steel guitar and lots of cowboy hats and polite cowboys. I don't think I'll be trading in my grey dress pants for a twirly multi-colored dress, though. Nope.

I need to finish a song. Some song, any song. Bah.

Also I cannot contain my excitement over the fact that Lisa is having a girl and I really did squeal a little in the charts room in the doctor's office while working when I snuck a listen to my voicemail and heard the news. Lydia Eleanor is going to be so cute! And I will spoil her and still be the cool aunt, hahahaha. YAY!

Speaking of being the cool aunt, time for a beer.

Chew on this.

I just finished watching a documentary made by Woody Harrelson called Go Further. It's nothing I haven't heard before, yet it is simply another piece of evidence propelling me to wonder how many times do I have to hear what is good for me to follow through? And how many millions MORE times does society have to hear things to have them sink in? Some facts:

- Food goes into our bodies. It is the thing that fuels our lifeforce. Corporations that own large farms and factories that produce this food are not concerned with our bodies. They are concerned with their bottom line. Pesticides that are sprayed on vegetables are in our bodies. Growth hormones given to cows are in our bodies. We have the option not to buy these things. We can buy organic. If everyone in the country stopped buying chemical-laden food tomorrow, these corporations would have to adapt. They can sell me my organic food if they want. No one loses, everyone wins.

- Soap, shampoo, and cleansers go onto our skin and hair. Again, these items were developed in an era of "progress." We can make synthetic soap! We can inject chickens with hormones to make them bigger! It's as if we were so geared toward progress and the magic of invention that we never stopped to think..."It's new...it's efficient...is it good?" Is it good for me to slather Bath & Body Works all over myself when I can't pronounce the ingredients? Is it good for me to inject my pores with chemicals?

- Using paper causes millions upon millions of trees to be cut down each year. It's simple to make paper products out of hemp or flax, and if this process became as refined and popular as tree-paper...well, we'd be paying no more for paper and the forests wouldn't be assualted like they are now.

- Solar power. Wind power. Electric cars. Biodiesel. They all work. They'd work better if some $$$ and political power brokers backed them up. That's how things get done in this country. That's why ($$$ and politics) the logging and oil industries (paper and gasoline) stay on top.

- So why do I play along? Right now I guess it's because I can't afford organic veggies in mass, or to buy a biodiesel vehicle. But I want to, and I will. And if every single one of us did the same thing...if we all said, "Hey, I'm buying the recycled stuff today," then how long before the powers that be, with their newly dwindling $$$ reserves, pay attention?

- Environmentalism is not against any political belief system. It is not anti-capitalist. It is not "hippie." It is now or it is never.

Pritty Things.

P8100170
Originally uploaded by Czech Girl.

Whew! I am exhausted. In a good way. Some New Mexicans wandered through this week and I got to do a little sightseeing with them. I have gotten pretty good about doing things by myself, but some endeavors are meant to be done with other people. Things like...

TOOBING down the San Marcos River. That spelling of toobing makes me cringe every time, but I'll get over it. We rented toobs and took two floats down the river. All I needed was a giant beer cooler. Full of Red Stripe.

Then today we visited the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center. Leave it to that Lady Bird to care about nature. Maybe being a First Lady is not so bad...no one really blames you when your husband screws up, and you get to do neat things like save wildflowers. So I took this photo today. I dunno what it is. It's pretty, though. And dangerous...a lot like me.

Now I need a nap. Or bed. Or a nap before bed.

Remember the poor man's copyright.

Last night. Stared at paper all night. Stared. Chicken scratch. Crossed out. New lines. Crossed out. Sat. Fiddled. Drank lemonade. Then, this! I love blind inspiration.

If I could line you up in a chronicle;
Write you down like Kerouac.
I'd get bored in the middle
And ask for all my ink back....

Meet the New Neighbors

Oh yes, beer is tasty. Tasty, tasty beer. My new drink of choice is Red Stripe, which is Jamaican and comes in ridiculously cool bottles. And it's a sweet beer, just like Jamaica. I've never been, but I bet Jamaica smells like Red Stripe. Or something. Oh just look at Hitch and forget I ever typed this.

So I have new downstairs neighbors, and they are a kick in the pants. Upon meeting them, I immediately learned how they met, how they got married, saw Doc's UT Longhorns tattoo (just guess where THAT is), and was offered piano lessons. They have 2 fluffy pretty cats, a baby grand, leather couches, and a giant TV. Like, this TV is huge. I have seen big TV's before but this is movie theater quality. And Doc really is a doctor...so if I ever sever my finger cutting butternut squash and don't have health insurance, I have options. It's all about options, people.

I've been a cover letter writing fool. A fool! I have about 5 to mail out today. Well, I should finish them today. Except I seem to have a mild or perhaps very massive form of ADD and write blogs and check my Youtube hits instead. Go figure.

I have had a steady stream of New Mexican visitors over the past couple of weeks, and it's been a good thing. To be honest, I was dreading the month of August. It's pretty much the pit of heck weather wise, and intense soul-sucking heat does nothing for the job hunt mojo. However, seeing familiar faces breaks up the monotony just enough that I feel like being productive, hence all those cover letters I need to write. I also seem to have met enough people out here to keep my social calendar full if I want to, so that's nice. Not all of them have cats and leather couches, though.

On the music front, I am currently re-obsessed with Tori Amos. I finished her book the other day, which caused me to pull out all her CDs and ponder the deeper meaning of Tori that I have decided I will never understand. I usually really like accessible artists. Songwriting that I can go, "Man! They ripped that line right out of my head!" Tori is someone I will never get and I like it that way. I don't know what the hell she's talking about; I don't think most of her fans know, either...but somehow she connects on some strange level somewhere I have yet to define. And that is the mystery of Tori. Amen.

Redeeming qualities of a day

Well, I was being a little sh*t today. I kind of think maybe I earned the right. Things started out ok, then some job stuff didn't pan out...which, when you have a slew of days (or perhaps 2 months) of job stuff "not panning out"...it gets you. And I had the unfortunate circumstance of having to TURN DOWN a temp job. That was horrific. I had to do it, though, as I have family time scheduled this weekend (which is fabulous). But I've been sick. And I made a list of all the jobs I have applied to since moving and it is LONG. I did it to prove that I haven't been sitting on my butt for 2 months, but it only served as a long list of rejection. So I hopefully sent off another cover letter yesterday, only to receive an email saying, "Yeah we already filled that position." So WHY, then, dear Museum...was the posting STILL ON YOUR WEBSITE IN BIG BOLD LETTERS?

So I whined to people including my mom and I cried and I watched 2 hours of Sex and the City and I ate WAY TOO MUCH PAD THAI so then I felt just...well, ick. Then I opened my fortune cookie that came with said pad thai. It said,

"Stop searching. Happiness will come to you."

That made me smile. For once. Then I had the fortunate circumstance of getting a last minute gig (it pays to be a reliable, non-alcoholic musician). I wasn't really feeling, you know...the MOJO...but I ain't turning down a gig in Austin, Texas. So I haul my crap over there and set up and pray I don't choke on my mucous that has been settling in my throat for the past 4 days. And I play. And some people like it. And some people clap. And some people buy CDs. And tip me. (Good lord, if you ever walk past a musician and have a buck...give it to them. You never know who's unemployed and depressed but overall a nice person that just needs a buck in their tip jar to make them feel human). And afterwards the awesome person who booked me opened up some more musical doors which is really, just what I have been looking for when door after door has been slammed repeatedly and really...here I go into self-pity mode again.

I questioned every turn I ever took today. I can see a path way back there that would have been the path of least resistance. And I can still make my way back, but would that be the right thing? My dear friend and life guru told me today that I haven't taken any wrong turns, because they all lead me to where I am this very minute, and that's where I'm supposed to be at any given time. Which is true. All you can really ask of yourself is to be present for the moment you're living in. I gotta remember that.

And what that fortune cookie told me, too.

My my my.

You know that commercial about pot where the girl who smokes it is a deflated human sitting limply on the couch and her friend says that pot did it to her? It's a good commercial. And it's how summer colds feel, I have decided. Yes, I have a sore throat/sniffly nose/congested head and it is 100 degrees outside. I decided while sitting at a traffic light today that I felt utterly deflated like the pot girl -- due to the heat and my crappy immune system. Oh good times! It's not a bad cold, though, so I'll live.

I get to go to San Antonio this weekend to see my cousin graduate from Air Force boot camp. I'm really proud of him. It's not something I could do. Like, maybe I could if I devoted the next 6 months of my life to training, but really. We all know that's not going to happen. And he decided he was gonna do it...and he did! So we'll celebrate with Pirates of the Carribean and Sonic, as per his request. I'll make him a card. Yay! And my other cousins are driving in, so it's a family affair.

I think I need to get off my butt. And do stuff. Having a cold does not help.

Also, Lisa -- I gave you a shoutout in the middle of Ashley's blogathon (somewhere in there) for your birthday! Good luck finding it, hahaha. But Happy Late Birthday from this blog too. You're a good kid and I'm lucky to have signed up for that class with you many moons ago. :)

P.S. I have a noticeable eye twitch. Is that a cold symptom? Or an "I need a job" symptom? Can we cure this?

Feast or Famine

Isn't it strange how life ebbs and flows around us, and we usually crave whatever tidal phase is the farthest from returning. When it's winter, I crave blasting summer heat. And here now in the bowels of summer, I cannot wait to be enveloped by cold air when I walk outside. When I seemingly have no social life around me, I can't stand being in my apartment alone. When about 8 million things pop up, I freak out and want to sleep. Some days I have dreams of walking over to Target and dropping $100, but when I actually walk into the store, an intense frugality overwhelms me and I go home empty-handed.

All of this is cool, it's neither good nor bad I think -- as long as we're aware that these extreme times are just that...things that could never last. I try to keep my temperment in the middle. Those of you know me well know this breaks down with ridiculous consequences sometimes, usually resulting in a trip to the store for pumpkin cookies, haha. But really, on my headstone, I hope one of the things inscribed on it is: "That's Jana. She was pretty even keel."

The specs:

Currently working on: cleaning my apartment because Heather is coming!
Listening to: Teatro by Willie Nelson
Reading: Manhunt: The 12-Day Chase for Lincoln's Killer
Putting Off: Paying the electric bill.

Life Itself

So while I have had the awesome advantage of...not working for a while (too long), I have found that it takes a lot of effort to simply excel at this every day mundane process of living. Maybe it's because I have had too much time to focus on it, but I really don't think it is possible to be a successful human in terms of everything you have to do to just be kind of healthy and outgoing and responsible and whatever. It seems that if I go jogging one day, I forget to drink my 8 freaking glasses of water. Or I spend all day runnings errands and my apartment looks like crap. It's one giant game of catch-up all the time, and I find it exhausting.

Which leads me to believe that the true joy in life is not in these little things. It's in other little little things. Like Diet Coke. Screw you, water. ;)

Glorious.

Haha yeah. I guess if I only have one cranky post a week I'm doing ok. ;) I don't even mean the last post to be cranky, more of an observation. (The alcoholic part, that is*).

So yesterday I got to meet some fine people, hang out at a gorgeous North Austin park (more like a wildlife preserve is you ask me, but they call it a park), and play music for a neighborhood association BBQ cook-off. Thaaat's right. That meant that MULTIPLE people cooked BBQ and made enough to share. I even got to be a judge, so I tasted 3 kinds of chicken and 2 kinds of brisket. The clear winner in my book was chicken with this...luscious, sweet, sticky sauce that seemed to have been in the oven for about 6 years to achieve the perfect balance of sauce, juice, and meat. Gah. I was quite pleased. I am still stuffed.

I got paid in cabbage. No, really. :) I played for tips and sold CDs and then the nice family who got me involved in it all sent me home with a cabbage that had been grilled in tin foil. It's tasty! I'm using that as a story for many gigs to come, so be forewarned.

Also, this week I sang karaoke. TO MY OWN SONG. That was weird. My karaoke-queen buddy who booked me for an hour slot last week has a penchant for "My Best Guess." So when I showed up at karaoke night to observe the madness, she insisted I sing my own song...over myself...well, bizarre. Oddly fun. I'm not changing my act to pure karaoke, though. ;) I think the audience mostly thought "This is not Destiny's Child. We want Destiny's Child!" Next time I'll just do Bootylicious.

* JUUUUST KIDDING.

The Grid

I am so off the grid. The Grid is my new favorite term for "in touch" and "aware." I have no clue what is going on back where I used to live. My mom references things and I'm like "Huh?" and she's all "Oh yeah, thaaat." I piece together random events and happenings in my friends' lives through freaking Myspace messages.

Oh yeah, and yadda yadda you chose it, you moved away, you have "something" to "prove" in "Texas." Well whatever. Maybe we'll meet up in 5 years and stare awkwardly at each other and say "What have you been up to?" and chat and I'll have 6 beers because I'll probably be an alcoholic by then and we'll go back to our respective "grids" and "chill" and I'll work on my annoying practice of using "quotation marks" some more.

Oh and if you're reading this, it's not about you. ;) I guarantee that.

Now I will go play music for free food.

Koozies

So, in New Mexico, I used to marvel at the existence of the "koozie." Those squishy things, usually advertising something, that you slip your can of beer/coke in. What was their purpose? Why would you want to add weight to your beverage? To make it more msyterious, every Texas artist I liked (and subsequently looked around for merchadise for) sold koozies. You never see Madonna koozies. Or, more locally...Jana and Ben koozies. Because people would look at us weird.

Fast forward to my (almost) 2 months here and I GET IT. Ok, humidity gods. I understand that when you take something that is mildly chilled out of the fridge, let it sit out for 2.5 seconds, a pool of condensation as deep as the Rio Grande (haha) will form. I also understand it is cool, in Texas, to show your allegiance to your favorite Texas artists when you drink. It's brilliant marketing, really. So yes. I have busted out my Terri Hendrix koozie. And I drink with pride.

Getting it together.

Sorry for the whine post below. Sometimes necessary. Things are looking up, though. Maybe because I suvived Monday and it is now 6 whole days until another Monday comes around. :) As Lisa said, sometimes you have to do a list to make your blog happy:

- I have bug bites on my ankle. It disturbs me. They itch a little.

- Cheesecake flavored Jello pudding is so NOT cheesecake, but it costs about 1/56 what cheesecake costs, and has about 1/43rd the calories.

- I ran out of milk. This is bad for a cereal luvr.

- I am writing my first song in an alternate tuning!!! DADGAD. It makes me uber-happy.

- I am also experimenting with slide guitar. Watch out, Bonnie Raitt. Not.

- It is 102 degrees outside.

- It is inexplicable how children take out life's frustrations on their mothers. "Mooooooooom I don't even care that it rained there. I have no job. Gawwwwwd." Heehee.

- I have renter's insurance!!!

- I want money.

Mmmph.

Well. I got turned down for one job this week and interviewed for another today, but they won't be getting back to me for a few weeks. And when they do get back to me, it will probably be a big fat "no." Oh, wait. I mean...flowers are in bloom and squirrels are running around and it's charming everywhere.

No, life's ok. I just hate the interview/rejection process. It's like a new act of desperation every time you make contact with a person who has the simple employment you seek. Plus I don't know what I want to do. With myself. At all.

In the meantime, I'm at a coffeehouse listening to some killer songwriters so it's all dang ok.

These Meme Things.

Stolen from Lisa, the Cool One.

1. Yourself: unemployed and pathetic
2. Your boyfriend/girlfriend: taking his damn sweet time
3. Your hair? ponytailed
4. Your mother? cool
5. Your Father? chill
6. Your Favorite item? my geetar
7. Your dream last night: i rarely remember them
8. Your Favorite drink: coffee
9. Your Dream Car: fuel efficient (nerd)
10. The Room You Are In: coffeehouse-chic
11. Your Ex: mmph
12. Your fear: poverty and failure
13. Where do you want to be in 10 years: making cash happily
14. Who you hung out with yesterday? the cool person who booked me and Fred
15. What You’re Not: EMPLOYED
16. Your Best Friend: my bed
17. One of Your Wish List Items: a gig
18. What makes you happy: gigs
19. The Last Thing You Did: went to choir practice
20. What You Are Wearing: jeans and a thrift store t-shirt i lurve
21. Your Favorite Weather: autumn
22. Your Favorite book: The Tao of Willie
23. The Last Thing You Ate: pancakes for dinner
24. Your Life: stop and go
25. Your Mood: resigned
27. What are you thinking about right now: the live music i am about to watch/hear
28. Your Crush: you (good one, lisa)
29. What are you doing at the moment: i should be proofreading
30. Your summer schedule: hahaha thereof.

New

I can't pay my rent
Every dollar I've saved is a dollar I've spent
I'm still hellbent
On gettin' rid of it all so I can die content

Brand new town
No, I wasn't born here, but I can burn it down
I got a thorn in my crown
Cuz the last one I left didn't want me around

I wanna say that I'm passing on through
I won't miss you enough to stay
That the pressure on my chest is just altitude
But it's too soon to say too late
Too soon to say too late

This world's passing me by
But I can only pass one car at a time
It's a shameful crime
How ordinary it is outside

Nothing happens on this street
All the neighbors sit out just smokin' fireweed
What's the cost of my need?
Can you measure a life-worth in gasoline?

I wanna say that I'm passing on through
I won't miss you enough to stay
That the pressure on my chest is just altitude
But it's too soon to say too late
Too soon to say too late

Small Town Americana

She tried really hard and it was cute.
Originally uploaded by Czech Girl.

Hey kids. What's up? I'm recovering from a giant slice of small town fun...namely, the 58th Annual McDade Watermelon Festival. McDade (pronounced "MAC-day-eeeeed") is a little mapdot about 60 miles east of Austin, and some buddies invited me out for a day of wandering in the sun staring at watermelons. It was a grand time. We watched the parade down Main Street, ate BBQ (yeah!), and took in the scenery. Two fun events:

- Seed spitting contest: the cute little girl above needs a bit more oomph in that spit. ;)
- Chicken Hit Bingo. What, you ask? Well, they mark off a large cage into squares, give everyone bingo cards, and put a chicken in the cage. Then they wait for it to poop. Then whoever gets bingo with the accumulated chicken poop squares wins. I'm pretty sure someone had a lot of time on their hands for that one. Also I renamed it "Chicken (s)Hit Bingo."

The travesty: I actually did not eat any watermelon at the Watermelon Festival. I was too busy with BBQ.

Otherwise, got my fingers crossed on a job interview. I saw some awesome music last week. I hope to see more this week. I play a gig Wednesday. I got a job proofreading stuff online. It won't be lucrative but it might cover my weekly gas expenses. One hopes (oh, the costs of travel!) Speaking of which, I must go proof. Tell me about yourselves.

Feelin' Independent

Happy (late) 4th o' July! Fireworks...they never get old. I got to partake in watermelon, hamburgers, and apple pie at the invitation of some very nice people I just met, and we found a spot outside of town to watch a fireworks display -- in the rain. It was weird. Umbrellas and the smell of smoke in the air. Happy Birthday, America.

Um I got a gig. Next week at Baby A's which is a pretty decent restaurant / music venue (although every place in this town has a stage attached to it). That's pretty cool. The booker lady liked my stuff...so this is my first independently acquired gig.

Last week at a songwriter's circle I went to, there was a "special guest" who I had never heard of, but he played a few and he sounded good. (He was good for that Texas-Man-I-Sound-Like-George-Strait crowd). So I Googled him today and it turns out he came in second on Nashville Star a few years back. You really just never know who is floating around out here. Color me impressed. Actually, it is my new hobby to look up every musician I meet/see around town on Myspace and make them my friend. My friend list has increased quite a lot, and it's pretty cool to actually see these people in person as opposed to just hearing their streaming sound files. Reality, you can't beat it.

Tomorrow: A slew of people playing at the Cactus Cafe, including Abra Moore. Remember her one hit in the 90's? "Four Leaf Clover." Look it up, it's catchy. You know it.

Weekend Thrift Blog

Greetings from cloudy Austin. I like it that way. It fits my cloudy mood, hahahaha. Ha? Just kidding. I was blah-ing about today until I realized I have an almost finished song and two finished songs that just need that extra little spit shine of effort before they are public-worthy. Now I just need some sort of gig to play them at. Oh yeah. That.

But! But...I decided to go a'wandering this morning, and it was truly grand. I hit up the Farmer's Market, where I held off on the urge to buy some plants...but I think I will be back in the near future to add some O2 to my living quarters. It's sad when the only thing living in your apartment are you and the sugar ants. (Oh yeah, except...the current score is Jana: 2, Ants: 0. Mwahaha). Then I explored the big park in the middle of town for a brief while, and THEN I happened upon a Goodwill where I found THIS CHAIR. I lurve this chair.

Let me tell you all its finer points. Someone clearly assembled it out of the bottom of an office chair and the seat of a much cooler chair. It is perfect for guitar playing because it has no arms that I can smack into (and oh do I smack). It has adjustable height. It was SIX DOLLARS. You can't beat that.

So um, that's about it. Oh, I also found a book of Rumi poems for 2 bucks. That was also exciting. Beth will care. (Or maybe not. Blog about your house, Beth). I am off to make myself pretty so I can go see some peeps at the Waterloo Icehouse. Next door to Waterloo Records. Where I will not spend any money. Right.

I want my name written on the bathroom wall at Cheatham Street Warehouse in San Marcos, TX

How is THAT for a blog entry title? It's true. I played this kickbutt open mic down in San Marcos tonight at the Cheatham Street Warehouse. Susan had recommended it, and the host starts out with an admonition that everybody gets to listen to everybody else...i.e. shutup and listen. Nice.

Again, for the 2nd time this week, I was on holy musical ground, Cheatham being where some guy named George Strait had his first gigs, and Willie Nelson stops in. It is also where Terri Hendrix (hi, Lisa!) recorded one of her live albums. Good times.

It is ALSO where I had a great time in the bathroom. No, really. If you know me, you know public restrooms are pretty much things I avoid...but you walk in this one and people from all over have scrawled on the walls. Nice things about musicians, usually. Not the typical "Judy is a ho bag" (though I think I saw one of those, too). Across the top of one stall is a big Susan shout out. I laughed.

So everyone there was cool and the range of songs was great and the sound was fantastic and some nice guy who plays happy hour on Fridays said I could play a set sometime (er, like how about THIS Friday?).

And I really want someone to write my name on the bathroom wall one day.

Rehash

From my junior year poetry class reflection journal:

"Give up to grace." - Rumi

"Look at your eyes. They are small, but they see enormous things." - Rumi

"Move within, but don't move the way fear makes you move." - Rumi

Anything done out of inner fear is not authentic. I'm not talking about running away from a psycho killer -- that's pretty authentic. I think Rumi is talking about the fear we create in ourselves - the self-doubt, the shield of armor we put up to keep other people at bay. We humans are good at scenarios and imagining failure. That petrifies us. Most of this fear is unfounded, but people must do what they fear to discover this.

Birds of a Feather

Tonight I decided to take my chances at finding an open mic, because this room had been recommended by several people, and *everyone* who is anyone plays there. So I drive myself to UT campus and find free parking, which is in itself a boon. I set off a'walking, feeling pretty good about myself for navigating so well. And I am enjoying the weather, the trees, the low humidity...and hm. Something on my shoulder. A leaf? Probably. I brush. Wet. Uh oh. No...not now! Not for the first time in my life right now! Oh yes.

A bird has crapped on my shoulder. Let me lapse back into my love of words in all caps. A BIRD has CRAPPED on my SHOULDER. It's messy. I am in the middle of campus and I have no clue where the bathrooms are. I brought spare picks, a guitar strap, some strings...but silly me, I forgot to bring a spare shirt in case a BIRD CRAPS ON MY SHOULDER.

It took all my willpower not to turn around and walk back to my car in defeat. But no. I had made it that far. I had found FREE PARKING. I had nothing to do anyway, except laundry. Thankfully, the Cactus Cafe is located in the UT Student Union, where there are always bathrooms galore. I attempted to dab the offending poo away. It was so gross, but it missed my hair completely. And my hair kind of covered the offending splotch. Whatever.

The Cactus is a small room that has hosted everyone from Dar Williams to Shawn Colvin to Patty Griffin to the Chicks to Alison Krauss to...well, like I said...everyone. I got a fairly early slot in the lottery, and made my way up to the stage. It felt good. I'm no Shawn Colvin, but I tried not to let the history of the stage give me the creeps. I decided to explain what had happened walking to the open mic, in case anyone had seen the offending stain...it was also a good ice breaker. I got a round of applause for my bravery and a big "Welcome to Texas!" holler. Oh these Austinites are a friendly bunch.

Overall, it was a great night and heck. There will always be days where the bird craps all over ya (literally or not) -- whether it gets to you or not...is up to you.

Austin to Albuquerque in 11.5 hours

Power Plant.
Originally uploaded by Czech Girl.

And back again in 12. How does that work? Regardless of the time change, there is some sort of weird time-sucking warp around Lubbock that makes you want to DIE because you have been driving for 5 hours and it feels like 8 and you have 7 more to go will there EVER be ANYTHING more interesting to look at besides FIELDS my goodness. I like words in all caps.

My trip home was good. I had other family visiting from out of town as well (my reason for going back so soon after moving...as well as play at the Albuquerque Folk Festival yay), so I got the couch that, while it is in "the den," it is basically in a room open to every noise and distrubance this side of LA. Meaning: I did not sleep much. So while family is great and I had fun...I was pretty excited to get back to my own space where I can dictate my own music, TV channels, and wake-up time. Look at me, I've been on my own for 3 weeks and I'm Miss Independent, haha. (Kelly Clarkson just walked in and busted a phat note, I kid you not).

Mundane thought of the blog: I have no food and need to go to the store. Blah. Screw Miss Independent, hire me a personal chef.

I think I have decided...to forego the "real perfect awesome career job" for now, at LEAST the summer...and get a sluff-off job so I can work my gig mojo and network. Not like the perfect job is just waiting outside my door anyway. That's the City of Austin, wanting me to pay my $260.00 electric bill. Oh yeah. Screw first-month deposits and "set-up charges" too. As IF the person before me lived without electricity and as IF they had to do anything for that set-up charge except flip a switch. At least I get my deposit back. In a year. It's kind of like burying $200 under a tree in someone's backyard and telling them not to let you near it for 12 months. I call it the Forced Savings Plan, which is probably good for me.