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.