I fell so hard

I find it therapeutic to put myself in new situations involving a rather Phoenix-like Ctrl+Alt+Delete. But, between burning it down and building it back up is usually the most lengthy, emotional, and taxing. It can be a wearisome job to live without roots or rules. So, I've become an expert at dangling in limbo and I do it with diligent regularity.

Before

To dangle is in essence to float but also to be in the precarious state of almost falling. Dangling denotes risk, precision, fragility; to be suspended in between two things that may or may not be comfortable, to attach barnacle-like to the fine line. To dangle requires assiduous concentration and painstaking practice. It also requires bravery and resolution, to be have purpose even in the unknown. Dangling defies gravity with a shrug and another try.

After some practice

Three years in Austin have been a good lesson in dangling and in limbo. This is a place and people very hard to define and even more difficult to embrace. Fortunately, if there was ever a place to practice dangling gracefully and with comfort, it is in Texas.

Here's to 3 years and many more happy years to come.

Love you, Texas!

Only Allow Good

Adrenal glands are perched on top of your kidneys and primarily regulate stress: physical, emotional, and psychological. Basically, your adrenal glands manage your fight or flight response, which is something that all humans deal with all day, everyday in various intensities. You don't have to be a superhero or be running from the mafia to have your adrenal gland throw in the towel. Millions of people suffer from an overworked adrenal gland. Conventional medicine doesn't recognize this as a problem since the symptoms are rarely life threatening. I can, however, promise this issue is dreadfully serious.

My acupuncturist nailed it. She asks (about a year ago), do you have an excess of any of the following:

Alcohol
Caffeine
Sleep deprivation
Cold hands and feet
Prolonged, traumatic emotional stress
Seasonal allergies

Um, yes, check, check, and check. Now, I can't say that Texas is responsible for ALL those things. I had excesses of alcohol, caffeine, cold paws, and nightowlism long before moving here. I guess the addition of the final few culprits finally did my poor hormone machine in. The sad thing needed a break, big time. I was a nervous mess; sleepless, tormented, blotchy skinned, puffy eyed, chubby, unable to concentrate, near my wit's end.

I had to turn this around and fast. How, do you ask, does one accomplish such a thing, especially in the midst of mean people, low financial backing, and Mopac traffic? This is Texas after all...people don't help you unless all you need is to borrow a truck. I'll tell you.

Step 1: Only allow good. (May require a rather rigorous housecleaning)
Step 2: Cope with repercussions of step 1.
Step 3: Survive and begin to notice happiness fill the spots left empty by the removal of toxic stuff.
Step 4: Repeat with fine-tuned modifications.

One year in, I'm on step 4 and I haven't felt this good in ages. I've eliminated all of the major offenders except alcohol. Through a random recipe of holistic medicine and soul searching, I've managed this without a prescription, lottery winnings, or even much inconvenience. I don't even have allergies anymore! It must be a miracle because last January I was very near cedar death. I daresay I may even survive without coffee. I never thought it possible.

Why does it matter? It doesn't, really. But, if you feel like crud all the time, have a chat with your adrenal glands. They might be warning you your life sucks. They aren't going to kill you like if you mistreat your heart or lungs or brain. But they will fuck your shit up. Keep in mind they may be the only thing between you and a state correctional facility...I suggest you take them seriously and give em a break. Also, a healthy adrenal gland makes your skin glow and your sex better. Just sayin'.

Alcohol makes you smarter and more attractive?

I completed day one of this detox project with my wits still about me.  I've received both positive and negative feedback but my favorite was a text message from a fellow booze connoisseur saying "I'm really disappointed in you." I'll abandon this healthy living bandwagon shortly, do not fear.

In the meantime, I've added some fun challenges to keep things interesting. Last night, I was invited to accompany some friends in a band (Horseshoes & Hand Grenades) to a show outside Austin. They were opening for The Damn Quails so the night had serious potential for fun and good tunes. I was reluctant to go at first though. I feel sleepy and hanging out with a bunch of rowdy male musicians for a solid 10 hours sounded a bit iffy.

But, I realized that detox isn't just of the body. If I am to really clean up this trailer I am going to need to make sure I'm not boring without the warm, snuggly cloak of inebriety. My only live musical experiences so far involved moderate to severe amounts of liquor and the occasional illegal drug, so much so that when I thought about it I realized that I rarely remember people I meet at shows and sometimes don't even remember the music very clearly. This is sad I've decided. So, I packed up my juice and met them for drinks before getting on the "tour bus."

To hang out with band members, one must be pretty independent. I don't know many of their friends yet and my phone died as soon as we got there. I was definitely on my own. At first I was shy. My inhibitions and insecurities were fully intact. I wondered if booze has really been a crutch for me and that I am as stupid and unoriginal as I believe some boozers to be. This prospect terrified me and I was determined to let the self I have come to know as "my"self enjoy the show and have fun with strangers without a drop of liquid courage, a shred of false bravado, or even another person to guide me.

Finally, I spotted someone with a Nebraska coozie so, much like the times I've found myself alone in cities around the globe, I put on a smile and perused the room making friends along the way. It was incredible. My mind was sharp allowing me to remember nearly everyone's name. I heard every note and remember which songs I have to download today. I stayed out until my usual 3am and slept until 11 but I feel great! Just food for thought...mostly since I'm not eating any other sort of food. Last night was a satisfying morsel.

Cheers! Thanks a lot!

Because I won't have time tomorrow and because work is an irritating distraction from all the smells coming from my oven, writing some words of thanks to use up a unit seem appropriate. 

Thank you, family! When I need you, miles and miles of distance doesn't even phase you. You make it better. Everything, you make it better.

Thank you, friends! My DC family is like a blankie I can't be without and I'm so grateful for the years I spent with you. You guys showed me what real friendship looks like and that is a rare and valuable gift. My new Texas family has been a long time coming but in the last 6 months, you have picked me up, dusted me off (or rather, dunked me in the river), and pointed me in the right direction on a path more my own. I'm not alone anymore and I'm so glad I finally found you.

I love my new home. I'm so grateful I get to be in this beautiful space everyday and call it my own. Not only is it infinitely more functional and equipped than any place I've lived before, it is also a fortress that unhappiness cannot penetrate. I'm thankful for granite countertops, closets, and surround sound. I'm thankful for my sunny sewing room. I'm thankful so many people have shared fun with me at Chez Ahrens and I'm thankful for the help I got making this place feel like home. I'm even grateful for plumbers, electricians, and Zilker event street closures. I'm especially grateful for Zilker events!

I'm somehow finally thankful for the terrible situation that got me this new home. Though swimming to shore was challenging, I'm grateful I knew when to jump ship. One must, must have gratitude for any lesson learned.

Thank you, neighbors, for not hating me. May the universe shower you with luck and happiness. I'm loud but I promise to always have whiskey and pasta on hand to make up for it. Your tolerance is a precious gift.

And, as always, I'm thankful for my sweet dog who continues to remind me that love exists. I simply cannot put into words how much she means so hopefully this will suffice: She is the dollop of homemade whipped cream on my pumpkin pie. And that's saying something.

Check out those seat covers. Roger That.

ACL is Austin's best binge, in my opinion. This year was highly anticipated and didn't disappoint, though my toxin levels are severely in the red. It was particularly noteworthy because I now live in Zilker Park, about .25 mile from the festivities. My condo was turned into a rowdy, loud squatter camp for boozers, dancers, travelers from afar, and the hungry. It was brilliant!

Communication at the festival is notoriously a problem but it also adds a creative challenge to the mix that can be wildly fun to solve, should you be so inclined. When you're crammed into a downtown city park with 130 bands, 8 different stages, and over 70,000 drunken, chemically-altered concert goers, you can forget about using your cell phone or checking in on Facebook. This year we tried walkie talkies...not because they work better than T-Mobile or help you find your lost friends but because talking on them is hilarious and having one is your hand is cool as shit. Some rules of engagement:

Fab shades

• Say "Roger that" after everything said into a walkie talkie. You can say "Roger that niner over and out cuuuuuusch" as well for added effect. 
• Come up with your own group language so that outsiders don't know what the hell you're talking about. Bonus points if truck drivers can decode your made up language. 
• Make friends with everyone else on your channel and respond to them with far out nonsense that makes them laugh. 
• Don't give both walkie talkies to one person.

Nom Nom Nom

Additional lessons include:

• Don't pee during the month of October. This frees up lots of additional time in front of stages. 
• Make your own ACL Bingo game. Include things like a Texas flag tattoo, a baby in headphones, and someone not wearing pants. Here's mine.
• Drunk people write the funniest stuff if you give them markers and large, washable pallets. 
• If there is any threat of rain, wear white. You will be given a free poncho by a handsome, kind boy and make lots of new friends.
• Avoid the lines at the food trucks and have food delivered to your tarp by those in need of karmic re-up.
• Rusty will find you. Even in a mosh pit. Even in the dark. He is a ninja.
• Sneak in whiskey.  
• See Jack White.
• Drown out the complaints of boring neighbors by turning the music up louder.

With the help of an epic band of gypsies, this was the best ACL (quite possibly the best music festival) yet! Next year, ACL is throwing my birthday party so expect more of the same. Music is fuel (and so is Rumchata)!!

Austin > Most Everywhere

This week marks the 2nd year I've managed to stay on alive the great planet of Texas. I've survived insane heat, one of the worst droughts in the history of the state, countless hangovers, immeasurable auditory overstimulation, one legislative session, one mortgage, and one broken heart. And I still think I'm going to stay.

Just as expected, music has become my boyfriend, my best friend, my happiness, my only dependable thing. I'm forever grateful and in constant awe of the musical talent in this town. I will never tire of it.

I continue to be head over heals for Texas men. They are handsome, furry, rowdy things that talk kinda funny. And I'm essentially helpless against their charms. I love their beards and their trucks and their pet names and their boots. Even things like meat and football seem somehow sexier when done by a Texan man. Most males from the Lonestar State are also trained to treat women very kindly...the good ones anyway. They are lovely (fortunately plentiful) creatures.

(DC friends...sit down before reading this next bit.) I've become outdoorsy. Moving even beyond drinking on patios and "hiking" to martini bars greater than 10 blocks away, I now enjoy such activities as boating, swimming, and exploring places without sidewalks. I have my own tent and I joined a kickball team. I sometimes wear flats. Gasp! Olive has also taken to sunbathing in the dust and hunting. It is remarkable, albiet truly, truly unexpected and strange.

I still struggle to feel at home here but it has gotten easier I suppose. Missing my people is the hardest. People in Texas don't leave Texas. For that reason, they all have the same people they've had since pre-school. Gypsies are often looked at with suspicion or ignored completely. Being a gypsy, this is tricky territory. Being a super-social gypsy that hates to be alone, it is downright rotten for me sometimes. I often find myself puzzled by the unfair perception of the cold, hard, dangerous streets of DC, which to me were the most open, reliable, and loving I've lived.

I moved here for a reason though and it remains the same...I belong here better than any other place. Not perfectly or effortlessly. But, better.

I'll celebrate my 2-year likely with the usual whiskey shots and almost riding the mechanical bull at Rebels. And there may be tears like last year. Hopefully a few fewer.

I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you.

My dog and I don't coexist in the traditional sense. I'm not the parent and her the child. I don't own her. It is more symbiotic...when I need her she is there and when she needs me, there I am. And we pretty much always need each other. She is my Samwise Gamgee. We have done it 3 times together in the last 8 years and she has proven to be exceptionally adaptable and helpful in a move. A pictorial memoir...

Deciding where our furniture should go
 
Unpacking (rats were in a high priority box)
 
Enjoying our new neighborhood, Zilker Park

Testing our new bed

Selecting paint colors at Home Depot

Posing for Martha Stewart in our newly decorated bedroom

Worn out from too many projects
 
I could not do this without her. Fact. 

Girl, I didn't know you could get down like that

I bought my first home. Major decisions and change make me very insecure and emotional and this was no different. I didn't much feel like celebrating even though I should have. It is a major accomplishment, after all. I wanted to feel a level of glee in line with the price tag (like shopping at expensive boutiques in NYC) but mostly it just felt lonely; lonely because gaining a condo meant losing a roommate.

I had hoped my first place would be an adventure I would share with someone else. It didn't work out like I expected, like so many things in life. Going it alone feels amazingly satisfying but a bit terrifying as well. My plans to create a loving space for two people was whittled down to the usual me, myself, and Olive. Everyone keeps reminding me that this is great, one of the best things a person can do for themselves. But, let's be honest, cohabitation failed me and that sucks.

Two steps forward and one step back is still forward movement though. My new place is beautiful and right next door to Barton Springs, a string of awesome restaurants, and one of the best outdoor music festivals in the country. I can see the Austin skyline. The previous owners shared with me that they had zillions of awesome memories and that the place had made them very happy. Hopefully some of that will rub off on me. My living situation the past year has been traumatic and tearful. It will be nice to be in a peaceful, happy place again, even if that means braving Austin alone again at first.

Seth Godin, the guru of online usability and general master of being useful, had a quote the other day that hit me like a Texas driver*:

"Everything will be alright" is not the same as "everything will stay the same."

I have clung to this statement, barnacle like, for the last few weeks. Everything will be alright, just like always. People adapt, get over it, move on, and move forward. And everything is better for it every single time. Remember that, Rach, you silly girl.

Luckily, two steps forward and one step back is also how you two-step which is not a bad way at all of getting from A to B in life. Wish me luck!

*No one in Texas was taught to drive. No one. The basic principals of staying in the lines, using signals, and generally paying attention are not used in the Lonestar State. Learning to operate a vehicle is clearly not as important as learning to shoot guns and say "yes, ma'am", which most Texans do quite well. This does not put my mind at ease.

Hang On Little Tomato by Pink Martini

At cool shit doing cool shit

Another SXSW under my belt with no visible damage to report. The only casualty was my poor phone which got the newest release of the cracked screen app. Amazing music and even more amazing company made this week the best music festival yet! Some of the artists need a lesson in etiquette but overall it was fabulous. Noteworthy moments in no order of priority:

Watch Andrew and I at Kimbra...we were in the front row for this truly amazing acoustic set. I'm in a white dress and AK in shades just to the side of the green Spotify wooden sign. She did the whole thing with just her voice, a recorder, and an iPad. She was so scared, her fingers were trembling.

We had the misfortune of choosing to see fun. at 1100 Warehouse where technical difficulties held them up for ages and finally required them to "make it work" with no sound. However, the last song, especially the tiny bit at the end where their sound finally goes out completely, was a remarkable comeback and ended up being one of the most fun and memorable shows of the week. I can't wait to see them with speakers.

When AK and JDLV led me through a broken down tool shed wedged between two buildings not even close to making it out of a code violation , I was skeptical. But, on the other side of the wooden plank door was a crazed DJ laser show that nearly put Skrillex to shame. When we realized the door we had just come through had gone missing, we knew this was a moment not of this Earth that could only happen at SXSW.

Here's the lineup:

March 10 Sat
DJ Throwdown at Mohawk
The Tontons at Stubb's
UME at Stubb's
Respect the DJ party at Empire Automotive (Best Trip to Narnia)

March 12 Mon
Lithium Party (Best Photos with Friends and Monsters)

March 13 Tues
Nneka at Clive (Best Concert Poster)
Some crap show at Belmont
Tango Alpha Tango at Whiskey Ink
Electric Touch at Buffalo Billiards
The Soldier Thread at Buffalo Billiards

March 14 Wed
Alice Smith at Fader Fort (Most anticipated, Least rewarded)
Gary Clark Jr. at Fader Fort
Tribes at 1100 Warehouse
fun. at 1100 Warehouse (Best Rebound)
Twin Atlantic at 1100 Warehouse
Neon Trees at 1100 Warehouse
Danny Brown at some tiny bar near De La Vina's place

March 15 Thurs
Kimbra (acoustic) at Spotify House (Most Creative Acoustic)
The Shins at Auditorium Shores
Drop the Lime at Lustre Pearl
Yaught at Lustre Pearl (Runner Up - Best Performer)
Miike Snow at Lustre Pearl (Worst Show Overall)

March 16 Friday
Grimes at Google Play party
Kids These Days at South by San Jose
Alabama Shakes at South by San Jose (Best Music)
Hollywood Holt at 1100 Warehouse
The Cool Kids at 1100 Warehouse
EL-P at 1100 Warehouse
Das Racist at 1100 Warehouse
Spank Rock at 1100 Warehouse (Best Lyric Used as Mantra for the Rest of SXSW)
Skrillex at 1100 Warehouse

March 17 Sat
Mr. MFN Exquire at Fader Fort
Dive at Fader Fort
Kindness at Fader Fort
Darkside at Fader Fort
Rittz at Fader Fort (Most Unexpectedly Awesome - http://www.thefader.com/2011/03/09/rittz-white-jesus-mixtape-mp3/)
Sleigh Bells at ACL Live Moody Theater (Best Performer)
Nas at ACL Live Moody Theater (Best Stage)

March 18 Sun
98 Episodes of Friday Night Lights, Maudies take out, and 5 gallons of water at home

Douchy bars are a dime a dozen in most larger cities. This is strategic I assume. Like likes like, after all. You simply cannot mix all types happily. People are not like Midwestern casseroles. As a seasoned bar goer and lifetime alcohol enthusiast, I've found myself in my fair share of drinkeries in need of a lower pH. Austin, naturally, has healthy options when it comes to douche dens and I'd like to point out a few should you be in need or adamant about avoiding.

Kingdom, a daycare that plays loud music

Hoards of strangely dressed children flock to this douche gem. Those with fake ids you'll stand next to at the bar. The others hang out in the dingy alley outside the club. The music is indistinguishable and the decor forgettable. But, if you're looking for a full-body version of the Hitachi Magic Wand, by all means, get thee in front of the wall of bass speakers. It is fabulous, until you realize the only other people in the room are Texas versions of Snooky and the Situation. Another thing of Vagisillian beauty is the glowing silhouette wall where you can find Austin's finest greasy meatheads and scantily clad bimbos posing for Facebook photos. It is a thing of wonder.

Qua, a conservationist nightmare

This place is true royalty when it comes to the the lavish fakeness and severe misguidedness of douch bags. They actually have a shark tank in the floor. Now, I know my politics lean left and I've been accused of being a naive bleeding heart, but sharks underfoot as decor is simply going too far. I wish I had anything good to say about Qua but the only thing I can come up with is I hope they soon sell the excellently located property to another, more tasteful douche proprietor.


Rebels, charming country with a hint of vinegar

Rebels is an urban honky tonk. I consider this a bit of an oxymoron but I love me some Dwight Yoakam and I can't be bothered to go all the way to Gruene so they get a pass. Just like the movie, this place is filled with urban folks with no business in hats and boots. Pearl snaps, fancy country swing, and an over-sized buckle does not a cowboy make. Luckily, they distract you with the most voluptuous bartenders in town dressed in outfits that would make your mama go straight to the Old Testament for advice. Ride the mechanical bull before you get too drunk lest you too become a master in the art of douchebaggery. Leave before the hip hop line dancers set in. Of all the douche joints in town though, this is my favorite for its charm, personality, and heavy pours.

Between work and hurt and whiskey

On this day one year ago, I ate Chinese take-out from one of my favorite places in DC and then closed the door on the most important chapter of my life so far to begin a new adventure in Texas. I cried on the way to the airport as I watched my beautiful city go past, knowing it wasn't my city anymore. And then I cried most of the flight. And then I cried some more. Saying goodbye to my most precious and long-time friends, friends that had pretty much become my family, was one of the most terrifying and sad moments I've had.

I've thought about that day almost every day since with varied emotion. I'm overwhelmingly lonely at times but also grateful that I was able to shed the stale life I was living in DC for something new and different. I didn't know then if it would work out and I still don't. But, here I am.

Trying to replace my dear friends was the hardest. It was hard because it simply cannot be done. I get that now. The realization was, briefly, quite hopeless. But, now I try to remind myself that new friends can't be made overnight and being comfortable doesn't always come easily. That was the whole point of this move, after all, Rach. Comfort and me have always been at odds. It is one of my most devastating and delightful psychological defects.

Luckily, Austin has its charms. A city so full of music can heal even the most damaged outlook on life. I love the area and weather and calendar of events. I found an amazing man and some good friends to show me the lay of this very strange, very large land. I've shot guns, rode horses, cooked over flames, two stepped, smoked joints, and watched football, just like a real Texan. My boots are properly worn in.

I've also made my small mark. Some people in Austin now say darling with a little more daawwwwl. Folks sworn to hunting dogs have a new-found soft spot for Shih Tzus. Corn and Velveeta are becoming dietary staples. Muumuus are...um...ok, fine, still not in style, but I've only been here a year. There is hope.

One year in, I'm really happy to be here of course. But, I still miss the familiarity of my East Coast life a lot and, most of all, I miss my people. Tonight the whiskey I intend to drink will be both celebratory and therapeutic. DC may get a few drunken phone calls tonight from a happy/sad Texan.

Don't Think I Don't Think About It by Darius Rucker

Take that woman down

My man works in politics. And not just any politics...Texas politics. And in Texas, politics are a strange obsession, simultaneously fiercely serious and unadulterated good times. For instance, the other day when Texas legislature was tasked with passing the state budget (an ambitious and noble task even for a tiny, poor, boring state) I decided to swing by beau's office to see the process in action. I had heard that most public servants around here keep whiskey in their desk drawers which I can now confirm.

We had a nip and watched the budget discussion on television. Keep in mind that passing the budget in Texas is serious shit, not like DC budget pishposh at all. You simply cannot shut down the government of Texas and get away with it. Texan constituents carry guns. You've seen No Country For Old Men. They aren't effing around.

The best part was that these folks had been at it all day and were predicted to continue with their "policy making" well into the night. However, the man with the gavel attempting to maintain order was giggling like a Cheshire cat and swaying dangerously on his little podium. He was not young. I feared for his hips. It was 7:30pm.

Around 3:30 am, I am home, sound asleep where I belong. I get a text message from beau asking if I cared for a swim with him and some fellow political staff members proud of a hard day's work. I could tell from the typos in the text that the budget was alive and well on Planet Texas. I never pass on a chance for middle-of-the-night mischief and I find it hilarious to see official-looking people strip off their suits and ties and do cannon balls into a freezing pool in a drunken stupor. Apparently, making law in this state involves three simple things: copious quantities of alcohol, a concealed handgun license, and an understanding lover.

I look forward to the day the 82nd legislative session ends with an urgency comparable only to waiting in line for the port-a-potty at an outdoor music festival after 9 beers. It just cannot get here fast enough. But, I have to confess that the conversations I get to listen in on entertain me wholeheartedly and I oddly appreciated the devotion beau and his comrades have for the hypnotic gypsy woman they all lust after called Texas Politics. But, in May, I will absolutely not hesitate to steal that woman's mojo hands and send her on her way, not to return for another 2 years.


Medicine by Grace Potter and the Nocturnals

Shockingly, I did manage to retain some information from SXSW Interactive. One interesting session I attended was how to choose and manage a successful team. I do not manage employees myself, but I've worked at an organization with absolutely no concept of team, teamwork, or management skills so I was intrigued.

One analogy that I particularly enjoyed was a spin on operating a motorcycle. Motorcycles, being fast, bouncy, windy deathtraps with no balance and terrible acoustics are typically of no interest to me. However, my Dad drives a Harley and I'm obligated to compliment it when I am in Nebraska. My Dad also likes analogies.

The presenter had taken the required riding course and used the instruction to "look not at what you might hit but instead where you wish to go." If you look at obstructions in the road, you will probably hit them. I guess that's how you avoid a head injury when driving motorcycles and be an effective manager. Charming.

It is easy to dwell on possible immediate threats instead of looking willfully to the distance. I actually used to be good at this but overdraft fees, 40 hours a week in a cube, and dating in Washington, DC beat it out of me. I look straight down or slightly to the side from now on personally. And you should too if you don't want to be a naively idealistic, chronically-unsatisfied doormat. I should give it another try though. Really, I should.

Along those lines (but mostly unrelated), I am moving in with a male later this week. It is equal parts terrifying and thrilling, shaken, then gently stirred, with a lovesick garnish. Luckily, he is truly amazing and he gets along with my dog. It is predicted to be the best thing in the history of cohabitation. If there was ever a time to look at where I want to be instead of what I might smack painfully into face-first, it is now. He doesn't have a motorcycle but he does have a truck so I think I'm safe.

Totally unrelated...there was an armadillo walking down the sidewalk outside my apartment on Friday. That is TEXAN!

http://notbeige.blogspot.com

To Get To You

Getting around in Austin, TX is a nightmare. Transportation in this city is so epically mismanaged and poorly planned that it has caused me to become enraged and borderline dangerous on numerous occasions. It is no wonder Texas has such a high rate of drunk driving.

First, the traffic is impossible. On the way to work, i zip straight there in 10 mins flat. The way home, on the other hand, is a painful, soulless stop and go that can be up to 60 mins of pure mind-numbing torture.

Parking is an effort in futility that usually leads to homicidal fantasies.

You cannot get a cab to save your life. I had an easier time snagging a cab in DC during the Obama inauguration in the freezing rain. Hailing a cab is out of the question. You must call to be picked up. There is a single cab company with 1 or 2 phone lines, likely manned by an unambitious, bong-hitting high school kid. These alleged phone lines are often disconnected and go straight to what sounds like a third-world country's IRS helpline. If you do manage to get through, the person on the other end usually hangs up before you can get your address noted. It is infuriating.

If, by some miracle of the universe, you do find yourself in a cab, the driver is invariably grouchy and rude. These men clearly need to get laid, which may be possible if they didn't refer to their unlucky significant others as "my old lady" and have permanent scowls on their miserable little faces. I promise...because of the rare treat of riding in a cab I am overly polite and kind to these people (without effect).

Walking, my preferred method, is possible. However, you frequently have to jump fences, scale cement walls, or cross interstates to do so. Walking in 110 degree heat isn't the most fun ever. Also, Texas is big. I mean, really really effing big. For that reason, you can walk miles and still only be to the next intersection.

The only mode of getting from A to B I have discovered is to fling yourself on to the cargo train that passes over Barton Springs occasionally and then fling yourself off the moving train nearer your destination. Hobo-ism is evidently the most reliable transportation.

These Old Shoes by Deer Tick

Hurts so good

Been in Austin for just over a month now and can even now only just collect a few sentences to describe it. In a word, "bliss."

Being away from my friends is difficult, as expected. I notice my chest clenches a bit when I'm hanging out with new people, trying my very hardest to fit in, absorbing information like a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. It is not comfortable. Whenever I notice it, I try to relax into it like my DC yoga teacher had instructed me before I left. In yoga, eventually our poses will become comfortable so we must always push. Not so much we hurt ourselves, but enough to feel a sensation.

And sensation is what I feel. Everywhere i look. Everywhere i go. With everybody i meet.

This town is simply lovely. There is something to do every minute of every day. Trying to take advantage of it all is exhausting, especially for someone so notoriously lazy. I have no 10 block radius here. It just isn't possible.

I often find myself in a moment of confusion as if I've overslept a flight or woke up and don't remember where i'm at (um...and it isn't like that happens to me all that often, c'mon). Like i went on vacation and forgot to come home. It is a strange sensation indeed. I guess it feels that way because this place doesn't feel like home yet. Whatever the reason, i like it. If i'm sleeping, don't wake me.

40 Day Dream by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros

I always feel the same...

I've always had a soft spot for the Lone Star state after spending my first year of college in Fort Worth. Also, I have an unexplainable attraction to men from Texas and I really like margaritas. If those aren't good enough reasons to pick up my life and plunk it down in Austin, I don't know what are.

I'm heading South (XSW) and bidding farewell to rats, douche bags, and a posse of amazing friends later this summer. I'm equal parts thrilled and terrified. Convincing my friends this was the correct decision was easy, for the most part. Austin is well-loved by most intelligent Americans and my clear penchant for all things Texas made my decision to move no surprise to most. There are a few stragglers that still need convincing however so here's a list of reasons why Austin is the best place ever.

1. Music.

2. More music.

3. Music everywhere, even in the airport.

4. Handsome, tall, polite men with accents.

5. Real estate is heaps cheaper in Austin than in DC.

6. My name will likely be changed to something like "Darlin'" or "Sugar."

7. Tex-mex pretty much is the best thing ever.

8. Warm weather and proper thunder storms.

9. There is a lake upon which i may be invited to float.

10. Did i mention handsome, charming men playing music?

Of course, there are other things like my job and my ever-growing aversion to life in DC (i.e. crappy apartment, horrible dating pool, etc.) that contributed to my decision. More on that later, i'm sure. Now all I need is a pair of boots (and NOT the Fluevog variety). Wish me luck!

I Can't See Texas From Here by George Strait