Home?

Well...I just spent the first night in my new apartment. Alone. By myself. Weird. In Albuquerque, if I were living by myself, I could still just call a bunch of people to hang out. Not so here. I met a couple of neighbors, they seemed friendly. The girl next door has a cat and is my age. There's promise there. (The girl is my age, not the cat).

Moving was not as bad as it could have been for being on the 3rd floor. Thank goodness for my parents. They're cute. I wonder if they were all sad when my sister finally moved out, and then oops! Jana's here! 23 more years of clinginess! Someone asked if they were going to try for another and Mom was all...."uh? no? hello?"

But really, overall I feel good. I am pretty intent on listening to the pit of my stomach, and while there have been and will be rough moments, I think I like this town and I think I'm doing an OK thing. I just need a job. Hello? Job people? Anyone?

I will post a "where Jana lives photo essay" soon, once I decorate and take a bunch of boxes to the trash.

Lubbock or Leave It

Free highspeed internet in motels is officially the best thing ever. Greetings from Lubbock.

Tomorrow: haul crap out of our well-packed vehicles into MY APARTMENT.

Bonus

I knew I was going to buy the new Dixie Chicks record today for various reasons, some of them being:

- They make good music.
- It's been a while.
- Whatever your political stance is, people in general should be horrified that these girls and their families endured death threats over one political opinion.
- I want to give a big "harrumph" to the Nashille establishment for making a ton of money off the Chicks for several years, and then immediately black-balling them because they defied the Republican Clear Channel establishment.
- They had the guts to record and release a song reacting to the above and not apologizing for having a thought about the status of their country.
- I like harmonies. :)

I was expecting good stuff, but yeah. They outdid themselves with this record. They used Rick Rubin as producer -- he did Johnny Cash's last set of albums before he died. They co-wrote a lot with the lead singer from Semisonic (remember them?). And as always, Martie and Emily play a bunch of instruments on the CD.

I was not expecting to find my new theme song for life (which changes about 4 times a year...I guess it's seasonal). But here was track 1 in all its glory and I almost had to quit driving the car to listen (and PS I know it is so cliche to post song lyrics and I'm sorry but MAN SOOO GOOD):

Taking the Long Way

My friends from high school
Married their high school boyfriends
Moved into houses
In the same ZIP codes where their parents live
But I could never follow
No I could never follow

I hit the highway
In a pink RV with stars on the ceiling
Lived like a gypsy
Six strong hands on the steering wheel

I’ve been a long time gone now
Maybe someday I’m gonna settle down
But I’ve always found my way somehow
By takin’ the long way
Takin’ the long way around

I met the queen of whatever
Drank with the Irish and smoked with the hippies
Moved with the shakers
Wouldn’t kiss all the asses that they told me to
No I could never follow
No I could never follow

It’s been two long years now
Since the top of the world came crashing down
And I’m getting it back on the road now
But I’m takin’ the long way
Takin’ the long way around

Well I fought with a stranger and I met myself
I opened my mouth and I heard myself
It can get pretty lonely when you show yourself
Guess I could have made it easier on myself

There we go. I'm pretty certain life leads you the long way for the most part. I guess some people "fast track," though I'm happy to say most of my friends are doing their own thing at their own pace. That's pretty much all you can ask. So do it. And buy the Chicks record to make a point.

Real prepared.

I may not have a job, or know my way around town very well, or have many friends in Austin yet...

but I have a SPICE RACK and POT HOLDERS.

Bring it on.

Back then.

Tonight I went to a graduation party for a high school bud of mine. I actually know a decent sized group of graduating seniors this year, and it was a grand time hanging out with them and getting a little nostalgic about that time in my life. They're good kids...I kind of want to shelter them from the storm I know is coming in the next 4 or 5 years, but I guess they have to live it too. All I can say is, welcome to a beautiful hell.

When I left, a couple of my girls were sitting in the street, backs propped up against a car, picking gravel, and having what looked like a serious conversation. It immediately took me back to those nights of summer scheming, best friends forever, the feelings of being untouchable and invincible rushing through your skin. You feel so new and independent, but a safe bed and Mom & Dad are never that far away. You've got it all planned out, and those people who are so "present" for you now are always key players and always will be.

Now I'm about to move 1000 miles away, and all the scheming in my life goes on in my own head. I've gotten used to the fact that no one's going to go with me on these schemes...we all have our own. Best friends forever? Perhaps this happens sometimes...I've found that circles of friends with no superlatives attached work pretty well. Sometimes I still share a night of star-gazed dreaming with someone, sometimes the breeze blows just right, the traffic is quiet, and the neighbors have all turned out their lights -- and that's the moment when all the scheming seems so tangible. But it's not often, and it's harder to do. Siiigh.

Freak Out

So when I was a sophomore in college and hit my first "really hard" semester in college (thank you, WWI History and International Politics), I developed what I termed an eye condition. I had never felt anything like it before, like something was scraping my eyeball when I blinked. It was red. I was sure I was dying. I took myself to the nurse and she told me quite unenthusiastically that it was a simple stye, and if I applied a warm washcloth to it a few times a day it would go away.

This was my first clue that I perhaps suffered physical symptoms of stress before I really even noticed that I was mentally stressed. I like to think my body tries to "gift" me by bypassing the brain and just "getting it out" with some sort of physical issue.

Fast forward to getting that tattoo. It was great for 2 weeks. It healed fine. Looks great. Then, last weekend in Austin, I noticed my leg was itching. So I scratched. Then I noticed a bump. Then 6 bumps. Then a good 6x4 inch patch of my leg around the tattoo was suddenly broken out in pimple-like bumps that itched like crazy and were bright red.

Uh oh. I had to drive back to ABQ the day I got kind of concerned about it, so I emailed Ashley in the am before we left and asked if she could do a Google on "tattoos+rashes." She did one better and called my tattoo establishment. They said this happens and is actually a reaction to the lotion I've been using for 2 weeks around the tattoo. After some follow up research (after Ashley calmed my fears on the road because I was so sure we'd just have to pull over and amputate), I have decided the rash appeared due to an unfortunate set of circumstances:

1. The tattoo area being sensitive.
2. I am not a lotion user, so my skin was all..."What up with THAT?"
3. According to my reading, the reaction is caused my clogged pores...and hampered by humidity. Hello Austin. My pores probably had a beach party when I stepped out of the car, complete with Go-Go's tunes and ugly towels.
4. The aforementioned stress channeling. I'm a little freaked out by moving and job hunting.

So here we are a week later and I'm still rashy. It has improved and I checked with a nurse/friend who assured me it is not an infection and I am not dying. However, I think the stress issue has picked up on the rash, because I have 5 little rashy dots on my OTHER (non-tattooed) leg and last night, one lone itchy dot popped up on my forearm. WEIRD. My limbs have also gone through various stages of minor swelling in the past few days. Right now it's my left hand, last night it was my right.

If this is what is saving me from that "pit of the stomach" sick stressed out feeling, I can deal with it. It will make a GREAT story one day, once I'm reassured I won't collapse in a rashy heap.

And no, I don't regret the tattoo, which I will appreciate and love long after my rashiness ends. If it wasn't this, I'm sure my body would have found some other kneejerk reaction to my freaking out like...knee jerking. Haha. Ha. And while I moaned about how this was some sort of "punishment" for inking...that's me being dramatic. My decision to ink was not rash (HA!), it was well planned, and I examined my motivations quite carefully before doing it. It's something I'm happy with and don't regret. So if anyone's shaking their head and thinking "Tsk!" right now...bug off. And I still love you.

I end with a poem from the Stye Days (circa 2002):

Why is there a stye in my eye?
Oh my.
It makes me want to cry.
It makes me want to die.
I did not ask for a stye, I asked for pie.
Did the Big Guy in the Sky mishear my cry for pie?
Did he give me a stye?
He could have at least given me some bread of rye.
Why oh why?
Bye-bye cacti.
My eye is not beautified.
I can no longer apply my eye to the butterfly in the sky.
I can go twice as high.
I ask that next time an eye has a stye, please notify.
Pacify and personify.
The eye of the samurai.

Continued

susan in austin
Originally uploaded by Czech Girl.

Ah ha. So the interview went well. Or perhaps I should say, it did not go down burning in a big pile of smelly fish parts. They said they'd call next week and update.

As I wrote previously today, this Austin thing is getting serious. And cool. And seriously cool. I pretty much knew I was going to love it there when:

a) I picked up the Chronicle (basically the Alibi) and saw about 5 concerts I wanted to go to in the next month.

b) We went to a bar on Sixth Street and there were TWO BANDS playing. At the same time. One inside and one on the roof. That's some music. And that was just one bar out of 30. On a MONDAY NIGHT. Amazing.

Apparently you just never know who's gonna pop up at the aforementioned Saxon Pub, cuz their web site has photos of instances where Bonnie Raitt just happened to "sit in" with the band that night.

Now I need to pack. And watch my dear New York City bound friends pack for their flight to the big city tomorrow. And pack some more. Goodness. I need furniture.

Breathe. Don't forget to breathe.

I am sitting here tittering nervously to myself because in 1/2 an hour UT will call and I will have an interview. Suddenly I am all concerned about the art of being Dooced, so I won't give any more details. But anyway, I think I'll do ok. And if I'm good for the job, I'll have a shot. If it's not for me, it's not for me.

I did locate a studio apartment in Austin off of South Lamar which is very cool. Basically, I am living in the hip zip code. Yes, I get hung up on those things. Within walking distance from my place are: Central Market, The Saxon Pub, The Broken Spoke, Target (hehheh yeah!), Savers, Goodwill, 2 music stores, and...if I wanna drive a mile or two further I'll hit a bunch of coffeehouses, Zilker Park, and the river.

It is humid as heck there. I'm gonna die. At least it's a studio so I only theoretically have to cool...well, the only room I own. That works. More later. Time to impress.

Things That Annoy Jana No. 1

A new series. Enjoy.

One of our neighbors with a lovely yard had decided:

a) to plant bushes next to the sidewalk.
b) to trim those bushes back from the sidewalk.
c) that those "ugly" trimmed branches with their brown woodenness just won't do.
d) to spraypaint those trimmed brown branches.
e) with what can ONLY be called "forest green."
f) even though the fake forest green is eminently brighter and faker than the real forest green.
g) the very green they trimmed.

Stupid. Paint. Keep nature, and don't cover it with chemicals.

State-ism in songwriting and geographical ignorance

Hello. I should be job hunting, but I am not. So we're going to talk about two unrelated issues on my mind. But maybe they are sort of related.

I like songs that are very geographically oriented. Time, place...concrete details. I have overindulged my love of place in many of my songs, but hey. I write 'em, so there. Anyway...I was thinking today while walk/jogging up by the foothills that if I were to throw in a line about yucca plants or the Sandia mountains in a song...it would be kind of lame. New Mexico geography, while gorgeous and special to me, is not...universal. So what makes something geographically accepted in the larger pantheon of writing? I could throw a magnolia in to some song and no one would really think twice. I don't know if I have ever seen one, but they're used so much in literature that I feel I have. Yucca plants aren't quite there yet. I have heard many a New Mexico songwriter try and throw in these overly specific details, and it always came off as unprofessional and amateurish to me.

"Oh the sunset is alwaaaaays pretty over the arroyo...in Ruidosooooo." Or something. I made that up. But it's like that. People would be all, "WHAT?" I guess our state just needs to be a little more relevant before it's cool for songwriting purposes.

Speaking of geography, apparently something like 48% of American kids surveyed couldn't find Mississippi on a map, and people are annoyed. Yeah ok. I think that students should definitely know where the 50 states are. Then, another large percentage couldn't find Iran or Iraq. Lovely.

While yes, these kids are ignorant...I'm not so ready to call them "stupid blasted privileged lazy whiners" just yet. Think about how much MORE kids have to sort through these days. So they don't watch the evening news with Dan Rather/Katie Couric (which hasn't proven to be all that great anyway) because the family is not huddled around the TV at 6 PM, all tucked in for the night after a lovely dinner of corn and cauliflower. Does it make them dumber that they know how to connect a wireless network for their parents, or drive 40 miles to the softball game at age 16, or organize a pro-immigration rally?

I'm the first one to gripe about "kids thse days" because man...high schoolers are different than we were 5 years ago. But they put up with a lot, they know a lot, and I don't think the biggest stress in their lives are retaining map positions for Middle Eastern countries. I'm not excusing ignorance, just explaining it.