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.

Mess.

This has been my week, papers cluttering the floor while I practice the songs I know, re-discover things I wrote a year ago and never worked into the set, and write anew. Good times! I feel pretty lucky sometimes, that I have time to do the thing I enjoy most. When I'm not wallowing in fear and pity about being unemployed, that is. Hahahaha! Screw you, Society. I don't need your "social norms" and your "accrued debt."

The other day I needed a post office, and I had overheard someone say "I go to the PO on Manchaca all the time." Manchaca is like a block away...so I get in my car and start driving. Nothing. So I drive the other way for quite a while...nothing. I decide to turn around and Google a freaking post office in this town before going any further. I pull off into the very next driveway...and it's a post office. Sometimes things work out.

Wow, this entry is pretty lame. I need to pack so I can go to Albuquerque tomorrow. The sucky thing is I know I'm going to be out late tonight at a gig. But driving 12 hours is not something you tackle on 4 hours of sleep unless you're an idiot. So I'll just get a late start. Thank goodness for losing an hour!

"I want to act like a real girl..."

I think I am finally settling into this unemployment thing, haha. Let's review, shall we?

Week One in Austin: Settle. Unpack. Find important locations for food and coffee. Be confused.

Week Two: Look for jobs. Get sad when no one replies to applications. Sleep a lot. Watch stupid TV. Be mopey.

Week Three: Decide that's ok and play guitar all day long.

Well, I know we're only 2 days into Week Three, but I have done a dang fine job of practicing so far. Which makes sense, because it's good to be on top of one's game. One's aspired to game, that is.

I had ants in my cereal yesterday. ANTS. In my CEREAL. If you know me well, you know not to screw with my cereal. Apparently, in this bug laden paradise, you have to HERMETICALLY SEAL YOUR CEREAL. I threw out 3 kinds yesterday which made me so sad. I'm scared to open the Honey Nut Cheerios. I ate an English muffin for breakfast. Screw you, tiny ants. I'll hunt you down one by one. You'll never eat a honey bunched oat again.

Um what else? I get to go back to Albuquerque this weekend. I'm excited to drive a lot and then to see my family and my peeps and play a gig. And then drive a lot to get back. Maybe I'll get a job after that. One hopes. Gas is expensive.

Ants.

Saturdays.

Mmmmhmmm. Silly me. Of course a concert makes you happier! Always go to a concert when you feel down, except don't pay $70 for it only to sit in the back of Tingley Coliseum and have drunken concert-goers scream "PLAY FREEBIRD!!!" to Bob Dylan. Ahem. Pick something cheaper.

So I'm pretty much in love with Johnny Cash. I call him my "boyfriend from beyond." That's kind of weird. Actually, I don't call him that at all...I was trying to be witty in my blog and it came out creepy. ANYWAY. That man is like...one of the great American philosophers, and I'm not really talking about his songwriting. His songs are great, don't get me wrong. His autobiography, though...well, it's pretty powerful. Johnny Cash is the walking talking example of exactly what the human condition is. He's the bad side, the good side, the creative side, the religious side, the disappointing side...all in one. Which everyone is, but few are aware of it or can write about it. Reading "Cash" (such an appropriate title) is like sitting down with Johnny and having him tell you anecdotes about his life. It's not preachy...because once he's examined everything he's done in his life he can't be...but he's inspiring exactly BECAUSE he's not preachy. He did a lot of crappy stuff, but he lived a good life too. Also his baritone voice is just...well, it's just good.

Otherwise...I might have a GIG on Thursday but still, I am not going to talk about it because I think if I talk about it too much something will bite me in the butt. I'm trying to write songs. I need to practice more. TV is the devil. That is all.

Thursdays.

Well, I rediscovered how excellent Cherry Coke tastes today. That's about all I can say for the day, though.

I think I woke up cranky, and I think I should probably refrain from surfing the internet daily for new job postings, because when you find nothing all morning and you've had all the caffiene you can hold, it's just not good. So I remained cranky all afternoon. And THEN I bought a pint of Blue Bell ice cream at the grocery store because apparently, this brand is a big Southern thing and everyone loves it. And I got home, and unpacked my bags. And no ice cream. It didn't get bagged! Crudders. And then I felt bad cuz my rent check got cashed, and my bank account continued its steady downward decline with NO HOPE OF INCOME EVER SO HELP ME.

But this evening was good. I went to choir practice at church, and met a lot of nice people and sung a bit. I talked to a few people on the phone who also seemed to be having off days, so we all matched and made ourselves feel better. I went BACK to the grocery store, explained my plight, and claimed my rightful pint of mint chocolate chip.

I think I'm also slightly annoyed because this city is SO COOL and while there's a lot of cheap/free stuff to do...there's oh so much more stuff to do that costs money. Money I don't feel justified in spending at the moment. So I'm even more antsy to find a job. Gah. But I love the city skyline and the green-ness and the nice people and the accents. And the grid system. Thank goodness, because I'd be lost a lot more if it weren't for that. I did make an open mic last night and that went well. I hadn't played out since our last gig in Albuquerque. Hello, rust.

All right. I suppose I'll lay this day to rest and try again tomorrow. I get to see a concert tomorrow night. Perhaps that will turn things around.

You gotta stick up for yourself.

Hello. I love mooching internet. I will love it until someone figures out I am mooching and then sends a firebomb to my computer. Then I will cry. Until then...

I had a job interview today. It went ok. I say ok because the job itself sounds pretty cool...it fulfills my requirement of being a job with a "purpose." However, I think it has a little too MUCH purpose for me. I could not physically hide how uncomfortable I felt when the question arose: "Are you comfortable with working 50-80 hours a week?"

Expected answer from young, doe-eyed college gradute: "Yes! Let's Do It!"

Jana: "Erm, um...well, with the music thing...well, I'd do my best to um, make it work. And um, I can't really say right now how those schedules might conflict, so um, well...yes?"

So really, on the drive home I realized that while I wish this place of employment the best because they really do work for positive change in society...I am not the one to do it for them. I didn't move here to not have a life, you know? So that's that. I say they had better offer me the job so I can turn it down...otherwise I will just feel slighted, hehhehheh.

In other news, I am SO CONFIDENT (haha) that I will be employed eventually that I bought myself a ticket to see the Dixie Chicks in October. I had pre-sale access thanks to buying a CD at Target, and they are pretty much at the top of my "bands I have not seen yet and need to." The Chicks and U2 and Springsteen. I am weird. It gives me a little something to look forward to, and I am thrilled I am in a place that is on the tour stop this time.

On deck for the weekend: finding "The Lake." Oooooo.

All shook up like a quarter in a can...

Things I am noticing about this new locale (these are neither complaints nor praises for the most part, simply observations):

- The tortilla selection is...lacking. Why do they only have breakfast tacos here, you ask? I'll tell you why. It's because their tortillas are SMALL. They haven't caught on to "burrito size" and such yet.

- Salsa is the same. I found some ok stuff. But green chile will need more hunting, or perhaps importing.

- It's RAINING!!! Clouds? Grey sky? Huh?

- There is green stuff growing where I am used to seeing parched earth. This is new and strange to me.

- The Texas grocery chain of HEB pretty much rocks my socks. They have a fresh tortilla making stand (no matter how small they are) and a fresh sushi stand along with the usual suspects.

- Photos are coming soon, really. As soon as I remove the giant pile of boxes from my apartment. Except for one box, which will heretofore be known as "the coffee table."

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.

the week

kristyn me kassidy kelsi
Originally uploaded by Czech Girl.

Oh this week. I think everyone I know is stressed out by this very coming week, even though we all have different stress reasons. Finals at UNM, moving, gas prices in SLC, trip planning, future planning, GAH. It's a frantic feeling, though it's how things seem to go. You're either sitting at home bored and sad with yourself because you have nothing to do (oh that's me), or you're freaking out with the amount of stuff to accomplish. I guess I prefer the freak out.

I have officially met my songwriting guru triumvirate as of Thursday night...the elusive 3rd member made her way into the state and things worked out (Kristyn on the left who is holding her very own copy of "failed cartographer" hehhehheh). That was pretty cool. I pretty much have no future goals or plans now.

JUST KIDDING. Some days I kind of wish I was one of those kids who peaked in high school. Mostly I'm glad I didn't. The day I run out of replacement goals is the day I should lock myself in the walk-in freezer at the Radisson Hotel and never come out.

I need a job. DANGIT.

Trippin'

Tomorrow, Miss B. and I set off for Alamogordo. Home of white sand, Caliche's, and close to the INN OF THE MOUNTAIN GODS (you can't say that name without booming it out) resort and casino. We will be trekking to the casino so that Beth can get her grandma plastered...I mean...so that Beth and her Grandma can spend quality time together (hehheh), and so I can see my favorite trio'd group o' Nashvillians...Shedaisy. WOOHOO! The last two times I have seen them live, I have had kind of cruddy seats. Or had to sit through teenagers two-stepping at the State Fair (not cool). This time, I think the venue is more intimate and my seats had better be an improvement from Tingley "Cow Palace" Coliseum. Not that I ask much.

Otherwise, Ben and I played a successful gig at the UNM Sustainability Fair today -- we sold 4 CDs and those are good times. It took us about a year to get rid of the 100 copies of our first album...which was pretty good. This time, the CD has been "available" for a month and we've already sold over half. Which means I gotta get more printed. And more of the old CD. Why do things cost money? :) But it's all good news.

Beth and I can't get enough of driving around, so we leave for Austin Scouting next week. I will see apartments...we'll see some concerts...we'll stay in Buda which is so NOT pronounced correctly in Texas...good times. Hello 12-hour drive.

Zia'd

Zia
Originally uploaded by Czech Girl.

Hm. Well, I have gone through several phases, each increasingly shorter...all leading to yesterday, affectionately called "The Day of the Ink."

The first phase was easy. Steph and I made a bit of a pact to get tattoos together when she returned from Africa. This was about 3 years ago, and it popped up in my mind occasionally during those years. Enough that I had kind of an idea of the design I wanted.

Then Steph came back and we talked about it a little, though I wasn't sure it was going to happen. I did attempt to solidify my design choice, however.

Then, all of the sudden...now was the time to do it. I realized that while I had chosen a Zia sun with 3 rays on each side, I had no clue where I wanted it. Enter another bout of agonized decision making...equally important as "what?" is "WHERE?" For real. Once I arrived at my inside ankle area as being suitable (both visible and concealable), I was ok again.

Then...we actually MADE APPOINTMENTS. Enter total freak out mode. What will my parents think? What will other people think? Will I regret it immediately? Will I regret it in 20 years? Will it HURT? Will I cry?

I did not sleep well the night before. Then, they called to reschedule our evening appointment to the next day...postponing it further and causing yet another night of restless slumber. The next morning I ate some cereal, Steph and Joaquin came to pick me up, and I had a queasy feeling in my stomach the whole way there, while signing the permission form, and while sitting in the chair (like a dentist chair except...cooler).

We met Alex, our tattoo artist, a very nice guy and who actually had my zia all drawn out for me ahead of time in the perfect size! Yes. I liked that. So he got his ink and his needle-y thing all ready and I braced myself for the worst. The motor starts whirring, and suddenly..a little poking on my skin. Hm. Not so bad at all. Hey, I can handle this.

At this point, I'm not sure whether it was the sudden adrenaline release or what, but I realized I was happy with my decision and happy I was in the company of two lifelong friends, who would always remain so even if we aren't going to be in the same state for much longer. Alex went over the design about 4 times, and the 3rd time hurt the most. I cringed, but no crying. Phew. Steph and I traded places and she got her awesome inking done...and off we trekked into the world, with a little bit more to us than when we went in. Aftercare seems pretty simple as mine is so tiny, it's a bit red and there is a little bruising around it...otherwise, no problem! People, including my parents, seem ok with it. It all turned out ok.

I got a zia because I plan to be leaving New Mexico very soon, but we're not parting on bad terms. I've lived here since I was 4 and it has given me many, many opportunities and people that I cherish. As for the rays, each set of 3 means something different, and it would take me a while to explain exactly what. I will say that I decided one set of "3" represents a three year time span. I've gotten a lot accomplished in the past 3 years...and I learned you can change a lot in a promising way. You can morph into someone a little different or someone completely opposite, if that's what you need to do. It's a little bit of hope and forward-thinking attached to a little bit of home, wherever I go. :)

Oh it's Going

I will start by saying that if you buy Trader Joe's Thai chile lime peanuts, DO NOT EAT the actual chiles in it unless you have gallons of water handy. Eesh. Otherwise, that place is awesome. It is cheap, the food is all natural (i.e. lacking strange ingredients whose sole purpose is to make things last 50 years)...with a sense of humor. The sign for the yogurt section says, "Get a little culture in your life!" Hahaha.

Also, has anyone noticed that if you switch to the 5:00 local news at 5:00, they have already started? They begin at like 4:55 now! As if they can beat the other stations to reporting things. Well guess what, Channel 4. If I'm watching Oprah, I'm going to miss the first 5 minutes of your newscast anyway, so it's not like I'm impressed with your aheadness. Cuz I missed it.

I'm not one to bring up my own lyrics or anything, but I think the truest line I have ever written is, "patience comes to those who wait." How horribly, horribly ironic is that? All I do these days is wait...and it's not TOO exceptionally painful, but a little less antsy-ness on my part would be swell, I think. Otherwise the weather's great, and there's much to look forward to. Let's Spring Clean, shall we?

Running from La Migra

...and other road trip tales.

Our trip to Juarez was successful, and I don't even have food poisoning yet. Good times! Steph, Joaquin, and I set out in the uber-fancy "Oldsmobile Intrigue" and drove ourselves to Las Cruces last night, listening to Dane Cook all the way. Well, I missed half a disc with a little back seat nap, but I got the jist. We arrived at the house of Steph's aunt and promptly went to dinner, ate a LOT of Mexican food, strolled around "Old Town Las Cruces" which is so old it literally SHUTS DOWN at 10 PM on a Friday...and then slept.

This morning I awoke with my nagging headache (probably from my head bouncing around in the backseat mid-nap) completely gone, and we set off for Old El Paso. Oh that silly border town where they think they make good salsa. We parked downtown and went...well, South. Where else do you go when you wanna go to Mexico? Avoiding the $12.50 trolley that we estimated would drive us a whole 300 feet, we crossed the border and were plunged into a land...a whole lot like the ABQ flea market. If I am ever in the market for a cheap pair of Nikes..I'm going to Juarez. Puma t-shirt? Juarez. Chile powder covered mango? Juarez. We scoped the place out for a few hours, bought some gorditas (not the Taco Bell kind) on the plaza, went to a mercado, and I had the most delicious coconut ice cream bar on the planet. I am going back just for that succulent homage to God's invention of the tropical nut. Mmm creamy white goodness.

Anyway, we hit the road about 3:00 and started back for the Burque. El Paso to Las Cruces is about 40 miles, and then a good 10 miles out of the city we FINALLY hit La Migra...the border patrol. There are probably several factors that caused this next turn of events, the main ones being...

1. I was driving, and the driver's side window is busted and therefore will not roll down. So Joaquin had to roll his down in the backseat and talk to the guard while I sat there looking shifty.
2. Joaquin is...well, not white.
3. We are all 20-something. 20-somethings do drugs.

So the guard asked us where we were, we told him Juarez. "Why did you go to Juarez? Were you partying?" Um...no. We just went there this morning. "So you were only there for three hours? Why did you even go?" Um...for the food and the culture and TO GET OUT OF THE STATE. "Get out of the car."

Oh fine. So we got out, and while the drug sniffing dog gave the Oldsmobile (such a drug dealer car) the sniff-over, another...this time more combatative...guard gave us the once over (thrice over?) and again...we really just went to Juarez for the food. And to buy Steph's mom a blanket. They realized we were ok when the dog got really bored sniffing our stuff, and they sent us on our merry way. My favorite moment of the trip? Turning to Steph in the front seat as I drove out of the station, saying, "Woo! Experience!" and giving her a high five. At which point we realized...THAT looked shifty. So I accelerated the heck on out of there before they could throw spikes out on the road because we looked like we had just pulled a fast one on La Migra.

Farther on down the road, we stopped at a gas station/A&W /Long John Silver's (I kid you not) in Belen. All of us were intrigued by the lobster bites, and while waiting for our crustacean nuggets, the nice employee guy looks at us and goes, "Are you from here?" We said not really, that we were from Albuquerque. He looks again and says, "Oh. You guys look like drifters. Like you've travelled." At which point Steph goes into detail about how they were living in Africa, and are moving to New York City, and we just got back from Mexico, and oh this one over here is a songwriter moving to Austin, and we've just done a month-long road trip to Seattle. This kid got the biggest eyes, and he told us about his aunt that writes plays in New York, and you could tell he wanted out of that A&W uniform right that second to travel the world.

We got our lobster bites and left, and I hope that kid does travel one day. I hope he gets some buddies and drives somewhere and stops at crappy gas stations and laughs so hard he can't steer straight. We also left wondering what made us look like drifters...the sunburn from Mexico? Our pant legs dirty from Juarez dust?

Maybe it was just the Oldsmobile Intrigue.

Progress.

So I can either be an Informational Writer, an Admissions Counselor, or a Performing Arts Management Fellow in Austin. This is IF they like my resume. And call me. And stuff. So really, those are basically the three jobs I was qualified for on UT campus to apply for. There was one other one which sounded kind of cool -- career advisement, but they require a spelling test and I kind of have to be in Austin to take it. When really, I've won spelling bees. Can't I just send them my ribbons?

I need to find other things to apply for. Also, I need to pay bills, but I don't want to work 40 hours a week. This is a problem. Also I need to write "letters of interest" for said jobs.

Also, I saw Bob Dylan last night. Tingley Coliseum should be banned from having concerts in it, because people are cattle and hey, Guy With Beer in row 36...Bob can't see you salute his badassedness with your raised beer cup from 200 feet away. So stop it.

But anyway...Bob Dylan won me over regardless of stupid crowds and bad seating. He actually played "The Times They Are A'Changin," "All Along the Watchtower," "Like A Rolling Stone," and "Lay Lady Lay" -- which I was not expecting because I heard he was doing more obscure stuff on his tours lately, and really...if you have 40 years of material to choose from, you have a LOT of material. So I like Bob. And in some ways it almost seemed like cheating...to see this troubador of the 60's folk movement in a large arena with seats courtesy of Ticketmaster. But then again, Dylan was never "just" folk, and he never really was about "peace and love." That's just when he happened to catch on to American consciousness, and he's had a very winding and varied career since then. So it's all good, and I went home happy.

Me at 16

I am deleting files off a bunch of floppy discs that have been sitting in my room for a looong long time...who uses floppy discs any more anyway? So I find a file called, "Goals" from May, 1999. I was 16 years old at the time...and clearly a kid with crazy ideas in her head (much like now). Here are my 1999 goals, and my subsequent commentary on whether I accomplished them or even care to any more:

1. To live in Ireland. Hrm. I guess I was fascinated with Europe at the time, and greenery, and Irish accents. I would definitely like to VISIT before I decide to live there. Also, I've lost that "live abroad" itch for the time being, for whatever reason.

2. To make money playing music. Well...I've done it. I probably meant as a steady income, though at 16, I would probably have been impressed with ANYTHING...like tips!

3. To publish a book of poems. Yeah not so much. I do like poetry. I kind of quit writing it, though. I feel like...to be a poet, you have to BE A POET. You can't just scratch around and write random poems and call yourself a poet. At least I can't anyway. That's something I'd need to dedicate more time to.

4. To make a CD of my own. Check and check. Two CDs down, more to go?

5. Not be so dependent on friends. What's up with that? Still have that problem, I guess. I suck. But who CAN you depend on?

6. To have a studio in my house. Haha one day. The dream lives on.

7. To survive Finals 1999. Apparently I did...cuz I'm here. That would have been geometry and the hardest sophomore English class at Manzano. Eesh.

8. To meet Shawn Colvin. Well, I saw Shawn leaving the Lensic Theater when Jamie and I went to see her and we told her that the show was "kickass." And Shawn said thanks...but is that really "meeting"?

9. To meet Mary Chapin Carpenter. CHECK. I always was all about meeting my musical heroes. MCC is probably the most elusive one, too...because she's the most "famous" of my favorites (she's not going to play at a house concert, that's for sure) and she does not frequent New Mexico. So I had to fly to Atlanta, where I lucked out with a backstage pass. Heckyeeeahs.

There we go. I've done all right. I'm pretty sure I had other goals going on at the time but who knows what they were. Maybe I'll make another list and pull it out in 7 years. You never know what will happen.

Blah Blah Blah.

I'm humidifying the crap out of my room, because my guitars need it. I am such a tool. I had issues with the neck on my Martin in December, and it finally got all happy again, and then I left the state for like a month and it got really dry again and the neck started dipping and the top started caving and why is every term that guitarists use somehow strange in normal conversation? So anyway, my skin will probably ROCK on the moisture front because of my musical instruments. Meh.

I just engaged in a little Retail Therapy and got a Johnny Cash anthology 2-disc set. That man was so cool. I'm glad I wasn't born Johnny Cash because I'd be dead, and a man, and a former drug addict...but he was cool. This, however, brings up the OTHER main annoyance of my life which is...I have no income. And everything social in this town involves forking money over like it was Lucky Charms on the Irish Cereal Parade Route. Or something. I used to justify it with, "I get paid in a week." No more!

The more I talk to people about finally biting the credit card bullet or having student loans or paying cable TV bills...the more I want to drop off the grid. The idea of drowning in monthly bills ain't my idea of "adulthood." I know this is not possible in the 21st century in the good old US, and it's not like I want to live in in a hut in The Amazon or anything...but life is just too complicated to be healthy anymore. That oh so healthy "credit" which basically equates "Massive Debt" these days cannot be good for the soul. Or the heart. Or the liver. What gives? Maybe I'll invest in an IRA CD and be responsible. Or maybe I'll just go buy some Starbucks.

Oy.

"Sometimes you know where you should go before you know the way."

Harrumph. I have decided there is no point to a resume, because you are...to use the over-used cliche...damned if you do and damned if you don't.

- If you don't use the standard format that millions of books and websites give you, you have done it incorrectly and no one will read it.

- If you DO use the standard format just like EVERYONE ELSE...it's boring, unimaginative, and no one will read it.

No one's gonna read it. People keep asking me what kind of job I want to do when I get to Austin. I don't know. I'd have it by now if I knew. I figure it will hit me in the face one day and I'll know. What has my work experience consisted of so far? Leading study strategies workshops, teaching labs, producing TV shows, teaching guitar lessons, office organization, selling pizza. Tell me the trend and maybe I can tell you what "kind" of job I want. The point is, I'm open. Ideally, it will be creative, allow me to write, allow me to work on multiple things at a time, and let me play music in my other life. This leaves many jobs open. I like that. I'm NOT floundering, as many well-meaning adults think when they give me that "poor Jana is just out of college and does not know what to do with herself" look. I DO know what I want. I just don't know how to do it yet.

Mmmm.

So that whole CD release shebang went REALLY well. And I had some freak out moments, even when we were hauling everything in with 50 minutes to get a PA system, merch table, and food table set up. But you know what? It was awesome. And do you know why?

I looked around the room when we were playing (I do that to keep myself busy, haha) and there were SO MANY people there who helped us out...from Eric who loaned us the recording equipment to make the CD and the PA system to use that night...to my cousin who sold CDs like a pro...to Writer who helped us set up and made the munchie of the century for people to take home...to Josh who found us the job that paid for the CD and helped plan the whole event...and on and on and on. And to all the people who heard our desperate pleas to show up because we didn't want to feel lame!!

The moral of the story is, the night was based around some music on a disc, but it wasn't about me and Ben or what guitars we played or how many brownies we had. It really showed me that nothin' in life is done...just by yourself. Even if you sit down a write a poem or a song from YOU, someone gave you those life experiences you wrote about. Someone has to be there to listen. So the night was all about how lucky and blessed I am to have this huge community around me, and I'm thrilled to be a part of it.

End mushiness.

AAAAAHHHH!!

So the big CD party is 26 hours away and I am low on gas (literally) but quite excited and not having any sort of fear or trepidation. More morbid curiosity. Who will show up? Will we have enough brownies?

THAT'S why I'm low on gas. I get things I need one at a time, instead of having one well-planned store trip. Oh well.

I was thinking you know you're in a good place when you come to the equivalent of a "test" and you're pretty cool about it. In school, I always studied and did pretty well on tests, but I ALWAYS had nerves beforehand. Nerves drive me nuts. They mess with my system. So, taking essay tests is probably not my calling. Having a big gig where anyone could show up? A test. And there will be butterflies, but that's supposed to happen. It's all good. Feeling ok.

I'll probably post later tonight from a fetal position weeping uncontrollably. ;)

Saturday Thots

I just found out what the new Starbucks drinks are...Spring brings about a Blackberry Green Tea Frappucino (blackberry being the *it* flavor), and Summer will bring a BANANA frappucino. Banana/Coconut or something, to be specific. This makes me happy. Must store up the bank account reserves, hehheh. They're also going to make the Green Tea latte a standard thing, which is awesome. I had one at a Seattle's Best in...Seattle, and it was quite good.

So I got a new CD by one of my favorite bands this week, and it's roller-coastered me. At first I was thinking nothing on it really matched the quality of previous albums...then I kept waking up in the AM with a new track stuck in my head, so it apparently passes the good melody test. Then I realized more lyrics are resonating with me the more I listen...I guess reading them in the liner notes alone does not do them justice. The music definitely adds to how things resonate. And I should know this by now, but I'm lame. So now I'm thinking it's all ok and love my band again. Good times. I hope I always care this much about my favorite artists, even if I have 5 kids and live on a farm. It makes life entertaining.

I'm having songwriter block. I am writing plenty down, but nothing is translating melodically or anything. I guess patience and persistence are the keys. Oh joy. BLAH.

Legends

After seeing Walk the Line this week and hearing Rosanne Cash's stellar new CD "Black Cadillac" -- which makes even more sense after watching the lives of her father, mother, and step-mother play out on screen -- I have been quite sad that I will never see Johnny or June Carter Cash on stage. Sometimes I think that "legends" have been built up in society's minds for so long that everything thinks they are good because everyone else thought they were good. I guess that is the definition of a legend. And I usually try not to buy into that...I find it almost akin to listening to Britney Spears because she's No. 1 on the charts (that means she's GOOD, right?). In reality, Britney is the most watered down, safe, useless artist on a heap of 100's who should be paid better attention to. I think the "legend" status might have some of that unfortunate popularity contest thought to it. The Cash/Carter family though...I don't see as being watered down at all. In fact, I see them as the All-American family...steeped in tradition (June's parents basically invented American folk music), full of issues (alcoholism and drug use and hating your father, anyone?), full of redemption (the God-kind and the people-kind), centered on music (or is that just me?), at one with the highway (that's very American), screwed up kids all over (at least one of June's kids has a heroin problem), with a great love story or 3 thrown in. Someone put Johnny on the quarter.

This legend-seeing-regret has also caused me to spend more money than I should on a ticket to see Bob Dylan.

Bob Freakin' Dylan. I am excited. Here's to many more legends to come.

Jana's Fake Italiano Chicken

I knew I was cooking dinner tonight, and I knew it involved chicken...but I wasn't sure of anything beyond that. I discovered that we had a box o' cherry tomatoes and some parmesean cheese. That screams Italian to me! Here's what I did (for a serving of 1, to make life easy):

1 chicken breast
3 cherry tomatoes, cut in half lengthwise
2 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil
oregano and basil (to taste)
parmesean cheese (to taste)

Preheat the oven to 375. Right. So just slit the chicken breast to make a little pocket. That sounds gory.

In a bowl, mix the cherry tomato halves, 1 tbs of olive oil, and however much of the oregano, basil, and cheese you'd like. Stuff the chicken!

Put it in a greased pan, drizzle the remaining olive oil on the chicken, and add some cheese or oregano/basil on top for cuteness purposes.

Bake at 375 degrees for about 45 minutes. I served it with some olive oil-y pasta and a touch more oregano on that...quite good. Try it.

The Road Trip Song :)

My life is just an ocean
Crammed into a wishing well
I am no deeper than a map dot
But I am curious as hell
So I will take a penny for your thoughts
And give you back your change
Cause there is nothing to be said;
This town will never feel my pain

I know...I know

Gas station roadmap
Got the whole world right there laid out flat
I won't get lost nowhere
The folks back home all said their prayers
The only thing I own
Is where these four wheels kiss the road
So wherever I am
I am home

I wandered like Columbus
Lost and fearful of my world
There's a lot to conquer
For a 5 foot five inch girl
And I thought I'd found my bearings
Out in North New Mexico
But you can't get through Santa Fe
If you ain't got the soul

I know...I know

Gas station roadmap
Got the whole world right there laid out flat
I won't get lost nowhere
The folks back home all said their prayers
The only thing I own
Is where these four wheels kiss the road
So wherever I am
I am home

There are roads I have not traveled
That are probably just as good
Where the hills are just as pretty
If they don't say Hollywood
I will try and beat the traffic
In the early morning haze
I just cross my fingers and my heart
And hope they point the way

Gas station roadmap
Got the whole world right there laid out flat
I won't get lost nowhere
The folks back home all said their prayers
The only thing I own
Is where these four wheels kiss the road
So wherever I am
I am home

(c) 2006

Mmmm Heat

Hello people. Or people. Or maybe just me, whoever reads this blog. I have returned from wandering and will maybe post about that later. Right now I just want to post SOMETHING.

So I will wax poetic about my top culinary love, HOT STUFF. I mean...chile. The best way to indulge this is to attend the International Fiery Foods Show here in Albuquerque, with hundreds of vendors all selling and sampling the best of the best. I found out through my heat loving buddy Beth that I would be in town in time to attend the last day. After two scoops of ice cream, tearing up, wheezing continously, and losing my taste buds for a while...it was so worth it. We probably tasted 30 kinds of salsa, plus a wide array of BBQ sauces, marinades, and some other interesting things like Jalapeno hot chocolate and red chile pecans. Glorious, all.

Least favorites: Spicy ketchup. Like...why? Also, there is a brand of salsa for kids, who don't like hot foods. So their label that says "hot" is really a mild salsa at best...what's the point? Just buy mild salsa. They marketed it saying you could actually taste the flavors of the salsa. Too bad the flavors were not stellar to begin with and the point of salsa is TANG. Harrumph.

BEST: http://www.greenbandit.com - The Green Bandit Guys. They are great. I remember their Cilantro Habanero Sauce from 2 years ago and have regretted not buying it, so when we say them we got really excited. I think they were flattered or something, because we walked away with a great deal on all of their flavors plus free t-shirts.

Why is it so good? It's basically a vinegar sauce with habanero (not too much), and a BUNCH of cilantro. Like...it looks like soupy mulched cilantro in a bottle. But their herbs are all fresh, not dried, and they bottle it so that the freshness stays put. Whatever they do, it works. I put some on my stir-fry last night and it was glorious. They have a non-hot version too, for the straight up cilantro lovers.

Huh

I gotta say, this road trip thing is pretty spiffy. Lots has been done, and there is some left to do. I feel rather detached from many a thing. I feel rather open to do whatever I want. I feel like I miss my people back in Burque, but I know I'll see 'em soon...so I can hang around here for a bit and be ok.

I want popcorn. NOW. :)

Phoenix

Day One:

A lovely drive. I know it's only the first leg, but so far I like this road trip. We saw a giant cereal truck with Tony the Tiger, Toucan Sam, and the Rice Crispies dudes on it parked in Holbrook. Phoenix was not hard to drive through, surprisingly, and we saw a good sunset. Palm trees and cacti. Dirt. Flagstaff was pretty.

Tomorrow: San Diego!

Harrumph

Packing is now an official pain. I am out of boxes, which is sad because I thought I had plenty. This means I have too much crap to put in those many boxes...and from what I can tell, the collection frenzy only gets worse as you get older/settled/richer, etc.

I was discussing the proposition with my roommate the other night that someone brave enough should take the Two Month Challange. Neither of us is that brave soul, but it would be an interesting experiment. The rules:

1. In one two month period, document everything you own that you actually USE -- a lot, a little, no matter.

2. At the end of the two months, if you haven't used it...chuck it.

3. There are obvious exceptions and caveats: photo albums and stuff like that should be exempt. Photos and pictures on the wall...do you "use" them because they are hanging there? I say yes. Then again, this is not a reason to keep that snow globe from the Florida vacation in 1986. Be discerning.

I suppose people could adapt this to any time period they want...one month for the really ascetic, maybe a year for those who really want to be sure. Perhaps the next move I make will involve a more rabid going-through of my belongings. Until then...boxes.

Last.fm

I have joined the revolution...all the bloggers are doing it. While I don't consider myself a *real* blogger (yet), I decided to be ahead of the curve on this one.

Hence, you can now see whatever I play in iTunes...though I think they only show the full tracks played, which is an issue because I skip around a lot. Oh well.

There is also a "label page" where you can preview (and soon...download) stuff from my own CD. Yesssssss.

http://www.last.fm/user/janapo/

A Reese's Review

According to Ashley, my new food reviewer, the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup With Caramel does not improve on the original. Take it away, Ashley.

"I am of the religion of eating the chocolate around the peanut butter before the peanut butter. So it gets in the way a fair amount. But there's more chocolate around the peanut butter (or less peanut butter/caramel) to keep it from leaking."

Final grade? B-

Cute People

I was perusing my old emails, because Gmail lets you keep them FOREVER. I heart Gmail. I found one called "Quotables" I had sent to Beth when I was in Seattle the last time. It consisted of cute things my nephews and niece said. I will reprint them here.

Philip: I tried to burp the alphabet and I got up to B.

Philip: (gigantic belch down the hallway)
Patrick: Can you do that again, Phil?
Philip: No, my burp-o-meter is not high enough.

Patrick: I don't like showers, they creep me out.

Philip: When I say I'm choking, then give me some root beer.

Phil (in a whisper): Jana...I changed my computer password. The password is...winter. And the hint is...."the season after fall."

Heather: Patrick and Philip are really happy you came but when they found out Beth was not coming they got MAD.

Heather: I can chew mashed potatoes...with my TONGUE.

Jana: Can *I* go to Boy Pioneers with you?
Patrick: No.
Jana: Well why not?
(pause)
Patrick: Because you're not a boy.

Amazing

African Guitar 1
Originally uploaded by Czech Girl.

My good buddy Steph is now back from the Peace Corps after two years of me not shutting up about it. Yaaaaaaaay! I can't believe it's been that long...and then sometimes it does seem like forever ago.

So Steph, in all her glory, brought me back a present. She had one of her students in Malawi MAKE this guitar. I'm not exactly sure how old he is, but he's not that old. Grade school, k? It's no prop guitar, either! Everything works on it! The detail is amazing. All I could think of when I got it was that if you asked an American kid to make you a guitar, he would laugh and hand you a credit card. Or something. It's amazing. That is all.

Worlds Collide

I was wandering the streets today and decided I needed some caffeine, so I popped into Starbucks with the intentions of getting a tall cinnamon dolce latte, because that flavor is like coziness in a cup. Standing in line, I note that a lady in front just got a Venti something, with one of Starbucks' "The Way I See It" quotes on it. And I see in tiny print (because I am oh so observant) that the quote is from Mary Chapin Carpenter. No way. MCC on a Starbucks cup.

I need that cup.

So I have like now quadrupled the amount of caffeine I am consuming, and while the cinnamon dolce is still an option, it is about 50 cents more across the board because it is "limited" and "special." So I opt instead for the GiantAss (TM) and cheaper almond latte and walk home proudly with my Mary Chapin Starbucks cup. It is now washed out and sits on my desk. I am a tool, but a happy one.

The Way I See It #52

"True Story: Recently I eavesdropped on a conversation between two twenty-something employees at a local Starbucks. I listened as the barista mused about his taste in music. Then the cashier asked him if he had ever heard the song "Strawberry Fields Forever." After a pause, the barista answered, "No, I can't say I've ever heard that one before." That's when I knew there really was such a thing as a generation gap." - MCC

Authors. Really.

DH Lawrence Ranch 09
Originally uploaded by Czech Girl.

This weekend my buddy Jamie and I decided we wanted to drive somewhere, and picked a spot on the map that happens to be Taos. We have a fascination with hippies and communes and all things 60's, and Taos is good for that. The weather is freakishly warm for January (or October, even) so it was lovely.

Jamie is an uber-learned English major and took a course in Brit Lit, so we decided a trip up to the D.H. Lawrence Ranch was in order, as well. D.H., while a famed British author, apparently fell in love with New Mexico in the 20's and spent a bit of time living/writing at this ranch. Upon obtaining some literature, we found out that the chapel memorial on the ranch was built by Lawrence's wife after he died. It turns out he had 2 other women who, according to the biography, "competed for his attention" living at the ranch as well. How this worked out, I don't know. His poor wife.

So anyway, after he died in England, he was cremated. His wife had the remains shipped to New Mexico to be with her at the ranch. Apparently, the other two women (dare we call them mistresses?) thought D.H. should be scattered out over the ranch. The wife disagreed. So vehemently so that she is rumored to have taken the ashes, thrown them in a wheelbarrow full of wet cement, and used the cement to make this little altar in the chapel...saying, "Let's see them get his ashes NOW!" What people will do for love. Or jealousy. Or both.

God Bless America

So it has come to my attention that the newest in Starbucks flavored goodness is the cinnamon dolce latte. Hello! Sign me up. I'm going to go get one today. I think after years of coffeehouse hanging out, and many an inconsistent latte (oddly I have had the wekeast latte ever and the much-to-syrupiest-ever at the same place), I appreciate Starbucks because it's so regimented and well executed. Giant chain? Yes. Same mocha every time? Yes. Some might call it unadventurous, but when I pay 3-4 bucks for it, I want to like it. And there you have it.

Music Mania

PC290645
Originally uploaded by Czech Girl.

Even though I was hit hard by an oh-so-snarky-and-timely head cold (at it's worst on New Year's Eve? Come on...), and have spent a good deal of my life in bed or on the couch as of late, much has been done in the past week that I can cross off my list.

- a new website is in the works, which corresponds with:
- the new ALBUM (finally!), thanks to my beloved guitarist Ben who is mixing with skill:
- which means I'm designing cover art and liner notes...it's more fun than I thought:
- and I also bit the bullet (where did that expression come from?) and bought a new acoustic guitar. Mmmm. After having my other one fall into a bit of disrepair, I realized any serious acoustic guitar playing gig warrior should have two. I should probably sell my firstborn (which I don't have yet) or something. Oh well. That's what graduation money is for!

Still more to do...posted I will keep you.

Pumpkin Oat Scones

scones
Originally uploaded by Czech Girl.

These are my favorite things to make, ever. Simple and oaty, a bit sweet but not too much. Like lumps of biscuity goodness. This is a good recipe for those of you who can't stand donut/danish sweetness in the morning.

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups rolled oats
1/4 cup white sugar
4 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup canned pumpkin
1 egg, beaten
1/2 cup butter, melted

1. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F (220 degrees C). Lightly grease a baking sheet.

2. In a large bowl, mix the flour, oats, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Make a well in the center.

3. In a small bowl, beat egg until frothy, and stir in melted butter and milk. Pour into the well, and mix to create a soft dough. Mix in the pumpkin as well.

4. Pat dough into small balls, about 2 inches across (or as big as you want your scones).

5. Bake 15 minutes until risen and browned.

Notes:

You can make any type of scone you want, I've added peanuts, chocolate chips, green chile flakes, and pecans in various endeavors. If you use a dry ingredient for flavor, though, add in 1/3 cup of milk to the egg and butter mixture. I left it out because the pumpkin conistency seemed to do just fine without milk.

Adapted from an allrecipes.com recipe.

Hello Hello

What is this blog? This is the post-college blog of wonder. We will not be waxing philisophical about our lives here, oh no. This blog will be made up of some sort of mixture of a) random observations, b) life goals, c) lists, d) recipes, and e) other things. Sorry I can't be more specific with "e." Oh, and photographs. Carry on, wayward ones. It's a big, big world.