I’m happy to report that the third time was the charm. I finally got inside the Sunshine Theatre last night after two failed attempts which you can read about here and here. Last night’s show was my first heavy metal show ever. I went straight from work, not really looking like a head-banger, but I felt relatively safe in my chunky boots and I tried really hard to wipe the smile off my face and look all dark and scary and use my long black hair to my advantage, but I still kinda stuck out. I tried to stand in the fringes and enjoy the show near the pit, on the edge of the chaos, which I enjoyed very much. But I still wanted to be incognito . . . just to be safe . . . just to avoid any rumble.

I liked the raw energy coming out of the crowd, the showmanship of the musicians, the intricacies of the music, the lighting, and the artwork. I enjoyed the fact that I remembered my earplugs. While the roadies were setting up the headliner band, whose name I can neither remember nor pronounce, we pushed as close to the stage as we could. Pretty soon Michael and I found ourselves jam-packed inside a mob. We were in the worst possible spot - the middle, mashed right up against a bunch of thick dudes with long hair and black Slayer t-shirts who were looking to start shoving and pushing and unloading all their pent-up angst by forcing a head-cracking, giant mosh pit to open up oh . . . right about where we were standing . . . I could tell they were just waiting for the band to start, waiting to get nuts. I was on-guard, but too naive to be scared.

That is, until Michael looked at me and said, “I’m spooked. Are you?” At first I thought he was joking around. Then I realized he wasn’t. Then I got scared. Then I remembered I had on some shit-kickers for boots and regained composure. I was still having trouble looking ‘dark’ enough; I could barely wipe the grin off my face, and I’m not sure why.

The first intricate chords of heavy-metal guitar music erupted with steam and smoke and lights and shit flying through the air and suddenly, I was part of a pulsing crowd, losing all sense of control of my own ability to move. There was a massive thrust forward as the weight of layers of people pressed into me. Sure enough, the group of grumbling dudes just to my right began pushing and shoving. At first, I allow myself to go limp and the shoving gets more intense and maybe even on the razor’s edge of violent, so I tense up every muscle in my body and push back HARD with everything I’ve got with my arms, my legs, my back, my neck. I get my boot ready to come down and deliver a crack in the shin at a moment’s notice and then, suddenly, all aggresiveness ends with them. I’m just moving and straining and fighting and living and part of it all.

I went to a yard sale a couple of weeks ago here in Albuquerque that some UNM kids were having. I spend a long time digging through CD’s and silverware. As I pay, one of the girls looks at me with her head cocked to one side and slowly says, “Hey, weren’t you Lydia’s roommate?”

I was shocked for a quick moment. It was strange because I was thinking, “Who’s Lydia?” yet at the same time the name was so familiar . . . I hadn’t heard her name since . . . god, it seemed like so long ago, so far away in the distant past . . . but no . . .

“Yeah,” I answered. “For like the first four days I was in Albuquerque. How did you know?”

“I was at their house-warming party,” the girl answered.

I smile and throw my arms in the air exclaiming, “Yes! Only been here two months and I’m already infamous in Albuquerque!”

Jetting into LA last Friday, hours after quitting my job in Albuquerque, I needed a weekend ‘home’ in LA and didn’t even know it. Every moment was GOLDEN. Here are but a few highlights:

1. Running up Washington Blvd, the heaviness of the salty ocean air hits me like an old friend.

2. The door man at Hinano didn’t need my ID; he said, “Girl, where you been? I know them blue eyes. Get yo’ ass in there!”

3. Group hug after group hug from my Venice peeps while I caught a 3BB (three beer buzz).

4. 15-mile solo oceanside mid-afternoon bike ride on my yellow Schwinn, which I miss very much.

5. Riding my bike on Speedway in Venice just after sunset and running into at least 7 close friends within 5 minutes. That’s more than 1 friend per minute!

6. Being fed tri-tip and Austrailian wine at Theory with yet another group of awesome friends.

7. Dog-piling the couch to watch Lawrence of Arabia.

8. Being woken up at 4AM by a herd of drunks who landed near my couch.

9. The shenanigan at Barnes & Noble.

10. Taking a nap at my Mar Vista art studio.

Well, I started a new job today (yeah, already!) on a different movie, this one in Santa Fe. I’m working with people I’ve not worked with in seven years! And I had the best day!

I really enjoy crunching numbers, solving problems, speaking the language of numbers. It was nice to remember that.

And I was thinking all day about how perfect my weekend in Los Angeles was last weekend. I quit my job on Thursday, flew to LA on Friday, flew back to ABQ last night, Sunday, and drove to Santa Fe this morning and began working again right away. Life just constantly wows me. Highlights of LA coming tomorrow.

Wow, ironically, that title sort of sounds like a bad accounting pun, I realize, but here are the truths and the stats and the low-down and the what-for.

First, let me say that the past couple of months, even before I took this job, I kept finding myself in situations where I could and many times did use the power of my words to hurt, harm and invoke. I’ve decided not to do this here. Yeah, I’m human; therefore, I’ve got feelings and opinions and all that other drama whipping around inside my head about this whole entire shit-storm. But I’ve made a choice to not spread or perpetuate that poison anymore. This means that you, my dear readers, will not be getting the dramatic deets of my recent choice of unemployment.

The only thing worth mentioning is that I’m heart-sick that this job didn’t work out and I can only believe that my choice was the best for all involved; the proof I have of this is that here I am, sitting with this choice I’ve made.

So, here I am . . . Albuquerque has not been easy. I’ve been here about six weeks and in that time I’ve endured moving half-way across the country with a cat, getting asked to leave my new digs, living in a hotel, moving two more times, being really sick, getting news of my granny being really sick, car breaking down, (happily, but still heavily) getting the whammy news of my 100% sis-tah, and now, making the difficult decision to quit my job. Allow me to re-iterate. Six weeks! Endure has really been my word lately.

I give it up. I’m trading ENDURE for another word, a nicer word. How ’bout this for my new word: EXPANSIVE. (And no, I’m not talking about weight gain.)

I’m staying here in ABQ - no, not forever - ABQ isn’t my long-term bag, baby. Just for the terms of my lease. I have a great sublettor in my bungalow. Why not? Life’s my adventure. I’m here right now and I’ve got some shit planned and I’m in a beautiful part of the country. So, watch out world!

Special thank-you’s go out to all my friends who’ve given me boundless love, encouragement and support about my decision. You all know who you are and I could not have made it through this without your accolades, kind ears and non-judgemental boosts to my nearly broken spirit. You’ve all helped me find Anna again, and quite quickly, I must add.

Here’s a quote from Nan Terrell Reed about life. “They told me that life could be all I could make it, life could be fashioned and worn like a gown. I, the designer, mine the descision, whether to wear it with bonnet or crown . . . .” Or in my case, heeled boots, cute little dresses and occasionally a rhinestone-studded kitty-cat collar.

As promised . . . .

My wake up call was a couple of weeks ago - the evening I drove home from work actually believing that it would probably be a good idea to drive my car over the edge of the ravine and down, down, down into the dust and the cacti and the rattlesnakes below. At that moment, the mind-body connection subconciously kicked in and my foot hit the gas pedal and the steering wheel kind of stuttered in my shaking hands. And I knew then that I was in potentially big trouble. Then my inner voice gave stern warning, “Sister, you’d better watch yourself, because it’s easier to make this kind of thing happen than you might think . . .”

And, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’ve been crying alot in the past few weeks. Uncontrollable, spastic, choking on my own long hair kind of heaving sobs. My mother suggested I get on Vitamin P, but popping anti-depressants is not an option for me. When I wasn’t crying, I was doing everything I could to paste a fake smile on my face and not crack up into tears.

There’s alot I don’t remember from the past few weeks. Blank spaces of time. That’s when I was angry. I’ve also been very, very angry . . . just a blind kind of rage that I certainly didn’t recognize as . . . . ME.

Then I began to envision myself ‘falling’ down flights of stairs . . . . and I knew. Something had to change. What was causing all this stress in the form of facial twitches, a strange rash in the area of my third eye chakra and chest hives?

My job, that’s what. So, I did the only thing I could do. The scariest thing I could imagine. In Eleanor Roosevelt’s words I did that thing I thought I could not do. I quit my job.

Yes, it was scary. This coming from a girl who has spent the night in the middle of jungles with marauding panthers. But in order to be reborn, one must first suffer a small death.

Those first moments were the most difficult ones after I hung up from that late-evening phone call on Thursday night to my boss. The fear creeped in, but I saw it creeping in. And so, I just began to say “Thank you, thank you, thank you . . . ” over and over again with outstretched arms toward the kitchen window and the fear melted away and I had a private conversation with the universe and I re-programmed my mind to know and believe and live with the absolute knowing that not only was everything going to be OK, but that everything would be indeed wonderful and beautiful.

At that moment, I looked down and realized I was wearing my New Person Being Born monkey shirt. I began to run around the house, yelling, “New Person Being Born! New Anna Being Born!”

Did you know that more than three of anything is a collection?

What odd collections of things do you all have out there? And I’m not talking about shoes or lame shit like table cloths or wine glasses . . . I mean what kind of obscure collection of three things or more do you have/love/hoard/feel no special attachment to/or is a guilty pleasure?

I have a collection of monkey t-shirts. And I actually have them with me out here with the small amount of stuff I’ve brought along with me while I live on the open road. I wore one of them yesterday. Along with a monkey on each breast, the t-shirt has chinese characters on it that spell “New Person Being Born.” It ended up being my mantra for the day.

But the story of New Anna Being Born is the next post.

Our expansive Albuquerque pad is dubbed by my roommate Michael and I as “G-Unit,” because our unit is “G.” (For an apartment letter, it’s definitely the best one to have, - so gansta. . . yo.) G-Unit sits smack in the middle of sort of an odd space. Adobe house on one side, an alley on the other, the Christian Science Reading room on the opposite side of the street and a large bank with a drive thru on the north side. I’ve seen Christian Science Reading Rooms before and always wondered what they are. Hmm. . . I spy an adventure - and possibly a shenanigan - on the horizon.

But first, meet my neighbors across the alley. Phil and Diane. Their houses are connected. Except Phil’s is nicer with a huge tree in the back yard that is glowing in the springtime morning air with magical new green buds. The day the buds first popped was last week. I had a personally and professionally difficult week last week, but still managed to notice the popping of the buds. No matter what is going on in life, no matter how hectic or crazy, I try to notice the subtle change of winter to spring. . . those first moments of the earth waking up from it’s long winter’s nap are complete magic.

And as I was headed to the dumpster, I ran into Phil and introduced myself and we just stood there together in awe and amazement of his budding tree in the pink morning sunrise. We chatted a little about the neighborhood. He’s lived here twenty years. Seems like a cool, older hippie dude. And he drives an old Jag - not that what sort of car someone drives impresses me, but when I happen to notice not one but three older Jags sitting behind the houses in the alley across from me, I tend to perk up and notice quirks like that.

I asked him what he thought of our little art loft complex, brand spankin’ new. And he slowly said, “Well, it looks better than it did. Used to just be an empty lot. Kinda ugly really.”

A couple of days later, a lady cut through the parking lot with her two large dogs. She headed to the house next to/connected to Phil’s and I stopped her. We talked for awhile and she mentioned she’s lived in the neighborhood for twelve years. “Oh you know Phil then,” I said. “I met him the other day.”

“Phil’s my ex-husband.” She smiled.

“I knew it!” I said. “I knew something was up when I saw the cool old Jags.” I told her. That you were family or something.”

“Yeah, something.” She laughed.

Ha! The joke was on me yesterday.

I’ve been to the Sunshine Theatre here in Albuquerque twice now. And have not gotten in either time. The Sunshine Theatre is known for it’s awesome shows. I’ve seen many a night where the line to get inside the door is wrapped around the block and down the street - people shivering in the cold, just waiting to get inside. The Sunshine Theatre is supposed to be the best place in all of Albuquerque to see a show. I wouldn’t know.

The first time I went, it was to see Winger. And as you can read about here, apparently 11 PM is too late for Kip. But yesterday was a show I’ve been anticipating for a week now. A cat circus! Now that’s entertainment.

And we got there, braving the whirling spring time winds and . . . . stood in line with a bunch of kids who were maybe just old enough to be in college. And we rocked that line anyway. The bar was closed. Barstools up on the bar kinda closed. No humans in sight. Certainly no performing pusses. We’d even called before we left work early to go to the show.

“Hey!” The kids in line were asking people as they walked by, “Are you here to see the cat circus too?” And people would kind of stare with a big deer in the headlights kinda look, quickly nod their heads ‘no’ and scuttle on down the street. Suckers! We know they were totally there to see performing cats, too, but didn’t want to be caught standing in line . . .

The radio station had been promo-ing this thing all week. Hey! Wait just a minute . . . .

We knew then that we’d been duped. And my first inclination was to look for hidden cameras. Also don’t you know, there were three pay lots, all with attendants, happily waving people over to take their six bucks to park.

Even though I’ve never actually set foot inside the Sunshine Theatre, I know that I like the place already. Two times trying to get in; neither time successful. And I still laugh. I will never forget that The Sunshine Theatre in ABQ has a sense of humor. Priceless. Thanks for getting me out of work a half an hour early, Sunshine Theatre!

Back in January, my brother and sister and I went on a roadtrip. During this road trip, my sister and my father did a DNA test . . . It’s a long story. You can read a bit more on it here.

The results are back . . . and . . . drumroll, please . . . my sister is my 100% sister! We got the same mamma and the same daddy. This is a story that’s been fifteen years in the making and it’s nice to finally know the ending of this particular chapter.

Nothing much has changed in my eyes as far as my relationship with my sister, but to know - within 99.8% probability that what we’ve always thought was true is like a deep breath of fresh air. And an invisible weight lifted that  we didn’t even know was sitting on us.