A Second Day to Live in Infamy

I've been planning for a week to do a September 11 post, but wasn't sure which direction I wanted to take with it.  Last night, I searched my hard drive to see what I've written about September 11 in the past.  While I was going through some of my old pieces, I found some notes I had taken in one of my creative writing classes about the idea of "cultural memory."  This phenomenon is perfect for a September 11 post with how it relates to history, American culture, and memory as a collective experience, not just an individual experience.  

As I wrote this early this morning, I have cried three times.  I hope that I can provoke your emotions and memory as I've done to my own.  The point is that, even though sometimes the things we do as a nation can be maddening and frustrating and downright ridiculous-- I love this country so much, and I would like to think that you do, too.  Through all the nonsense, the USA is the greatest nation on Earth.  I love you, America.

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An Ever Changing Silence

Within the construct of this nation exists sites of cultural memory.  There are memories of many mediums of settlers, of migrations, and of war.  There are memories of battles of people groups and places that make up the history of the present.  There are memories of why things are the way they are now because of what happened in the past.  There are memories of greatness and lowliness--there are memories of change.  And there are memories of the time the nation stood still, when the silence was deafening, and the heart of the nation was shaken.

There are memories of times that have left us ashamed, and there are timeless periods which capture the greatness of the nation.  Amongst these, there are few unforgettable moments where the nation is brought to its knees; its citizens redefined by unexpected events.  The people are momentarily uncertain about their reality, their reaction, and their future.  And the silence that was deafening became a somber silence, and the heart of the nation was tested.

But the nation would never be silenced or let itself be defined by those who sought to silence it.  The cultural memory of many sites before-- of those whose bravery, persistence, endeavor, and commitment to the nation to create a place free from fear, was brought to the minds of its citizens.  Its citizens sought Justice, even though they were not even sure what she looked like yet.  The nation would prepare for battle.  And even though it was told the battle was righteous and justified, the silence that had become somber became a confusing silence.  The heart of the nation bled.

Months and years and elections passed.  The confusion became greater.  The nation that was once united in its grief became divided because of it.  There were those who made a mockery, there were those who took advantage, and yet still, there were those who chose to be passive and ignorant.  The nation still bickers about matters great and small, it still allows that unexpected site of cultural memory to be part of its identity.  That is who we are-- it is what we do.  The confusing silence continued and the heart of the nation was transformed.

What the nation has been transformed to is still uncertain.  That unexpected site of cultural memory is still too present, and hindsight has not lived long enough.  Though it is believed that the heart of the nation was rebuilt, it is still a heart filled with anguish.  So the nation goes through the days, hoping and praying and waiting for its full restoration.  But on the day it remembers, the confusing silence becomes a courageous silence.  And the heart of the nation, if only for the day, is strengthened. 

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Please take a moment to listen to this photo documentary of photographers who had their cameras with them in New York City on September 11, 2001.  Make sure your volume is turned up and that you have tissues.

http://inmotion.magnumphotos.com/essay/september11

Memories from a Twenty-Something

I've moved eleven times since May 2011.

That's hard to believe.

What went on during the past two years is really confusing, so quite frankly, I'll spare you from the explanation.  The point of bringing up my moves is to say that I've had the chance to go through my "things" eleven times, and then make the judgment as whether or not that thing will make that move, or if I will get rid of said thing.

It's really hard for me to get rid of things.

Not hoarder status or anything, but ever since I was in junior high, I just always felt like everything was significant and that I will, one day, want that thing again, or I will want to be reminded of that memory that the thing invokes.

I still have everything from my past.  Or at least the important things.  I think my original assumption was that my parents will live in this home, my home in Artesia, forever.  And I will keep these things here, and when I come home, I will have the chance to occasionally sift through these things and memories and be consumed with nostalgia, which is what is supposed to happen when you visit your childhood home/parents' house as an adult, right?  Well, that didn't happen, because my parents moved from my childhood home.

The most recent, and perhaps most reflective time, just happened last month when I moved from my parents' house in Midland to my new house here in Albuquerque.  Luckily, I had the chance to go through my stuff in its entirety and decide what to keep, what to get rid of, and what to bring with me to Albuquerque, and what to leave at my parents' house in Midland (thanks Mom and Dad).  I spent close to two weeks going through all this stuff, which gave me the time to go through boxes from my childhood, my teenage years, as well as my college years.  

For the majority of the past two years, most of my stuff from my childhood home in Artesia have been in boxes in storage that I have not had the chance to access until last month.  A lot about me has changed in my last two years of adulthood.  So, when I was reunited and confronted with certain things and memories, my feelings on these things and memories had evolved into something completely different than I ever expected .

I found way too many things that remind me of way too many things. Things tend to stay the same as the way you left them when life was different.  I'm not sure if I think this is a harsh reality that your life has changed or a refreshing fantasy that you can relive the past.  

When I committed to moving to Albuquerque, my parents made me go through the mountain range of boxes that was my accumulation of 24 years of stuff.  I procrastinated the task for days because 1) it was July in Midland and all my stuff was stacked in the garage among a layer of dirt and 112 degree heat and 2) I knew that I wasn't ready to see all those memories just yet.  But, my parents made me do it anyway.

I was quickly confronted with two decades of keepsakes from travel, knickknacks from my early childhood nursery, yearbooks, class photos, hundreds of photos taken by myself from age 12-18, old love letters, old friend letters (before the days of texting), six years of every single school assignment (very neatly and impeccably organized), and various things that I once thought were the most important things in high school like my dried-up corsage from prom and my date's crumbling boutonniere.  You know, things that matter. Or they did to me then, and quite honestly, they do now, too, as much as I know my dad is tired of having (and hauling around!) all my "things" in his house.

I made progress.  One of the recurring conversations my mother and I have had during these near-dozen moves we've made is how liberating it is to get rid of "stuff."  Yes, that's true.  There is still a lot that I can't bring myself to get rid of (My dad is thinking, "Yeah... six years of school assignments would be a good place to start!), but I was able to let go of some things.  Now, a month later, I am proud of myself for letting go of some memories, or emptying the metaphorical and physical luggage that I've been carrying around for so long.  

I finally forced a drawer of memories from an old love that started when I was seventeen-years-old to the curb.  I was able to donate two boxes of his clothes to a local clothing bank, thus rescuing myself from the temptation of dressing myself in these whenever I was sad.  These clothes have been overstaying their welcome in my various closets for the past six years.  It might sound silly to you, but if you know me, you know that that is progress.

One of the greatest thoughts that came to me as I was going through my things was the idea of forgiveness.  And that perhaps getting rid of some of my things/memories was really about forgiveness.  Forgiveness is an interesting game.  Sometimes it is difficult to distinguish whether we are waiting for someone to forgive us, or we are trying to forgive ourselves, or if we are trying to forgive someone else.  Some of the memories I was confronted with were entirely just that--remnants of a forgotten game of forgiveness.  It is intriguing how we entrap ourselves either way, feeling like the book is still wide open until some external factor (like moving and being forced to face your things) sets things right, when really we can close the book any time we want.  It took a sweaty, dusty, teary-eyed me sitting in the garage to finally let go and forgive.  

It all makes me think about the people in our lives who have no idea that they contribute so much to our lives and our past and who we are today because of them.  There are so many friends and people in my past who have taught me so much and they probably don't even know it.  There are so many memories that I've been harboring, and the people involved in the memories aren't even part of my life anymore just from innocent drifting away and moving on with life.  Sometimes people make their contributions to your life and then they leave.  It also makes me wonder what things I may have contributed to someone's memory mountain in their garage.  We almost inevitably keep small reminders of these people, mere tokens of their existence relevant to whatever small role they may have played in the grand scheme that is our life.

The sentimentality of things isn't pointless then, I suppose.  I remember sitting on my floor with years of things spread out all around me and sending an overwhelmed text to my friend Logan saying something about wishing it would all just disappear.  I don't really want that.  It all means something, or at least meant something at the time.  Some people and experiences are there to take us for a ride.  What we do with those memories are up to us.  I've chosen to retain them and make them glorified images of my past, sometimes to later realize that it is time to let that one go. 

It is interesting how most of the keepsakes we hold refer to experiences that we had, while some of them point to things that never actually happened, and they were never intended to be "keepsakes" in the first place.  

They are the cliffhangers.  The intentions that got cut short of becoming actions. The half-written story that we read through years later and wonder what we had in mind for the ending back when it was a work in progress.

Or maybe we hadn't even thought about the ending at all.  Maybe we just didn't like to end stories.

The Hood

My dad is going to be super unimpressed by what I'm about to say.

I live in a hippie neighborhood.  And I love it.

When I was in college, I would drive through the neighborhood I live in now with my friend Heidi, and we would say things like, "If I could live anywhere in Albuquerque, this would be it."  We now both live in this neighborhood.  Life throws you for unexpected loops like that.  

This neighborhood is just a street north of Albuquerque's famous Nob Hill neighborhood.  I'm not exactly sure what my neighborhood is called.  I've seen signs saying Altura Neighborhood, Washington Street Neighborhood, and North Campus Neighborhood.  Even now, as I look at Google Maps, it is telling me Pueblo Alto Neighborhood, which I've never heard--so, who knows.  The name isn't the point.  The point is that it is wonderful, and just what a neighborhood should be.  

When I was growing up in Artesia, I lived in a neighborhood where people lived normally and did normal, real-life things.  We watered our lawn whenever it needed watering, and when our grass was too tall, my dad or my brother would mow it.  When our driveway was covered in dirt (happens in southeast New Mexico), my parents would sweep it.  Kids (including my brother and I) would ride bikes, play driveway basketball, draw Tic-Tac-Toe games with chalk on the sidewalks, and come home for dinner at the whistle of their dad from the front porch.  We would walk or bike to and from school with the neighborhood kids, without a single hesitation from our mothers.  We would take our trash to the dumpsters in the alley, which were emptied weekly by a garbage truck.  In the summers, we would let the sprinkler run for hours while we hopped back and forth through it to keep cool--the dog running, biting through it with us.  

In the evenings and on weekends, people would walk their dogs, and stand in their yards and talk about their children's school teachers or their latest do-it-yourself project with their neighbors. 

Ah, the good ol' days, huh?  The quality of life was good.  People did not seem to be living out of their means, and we were in love with life and the small town with which we belonged.  I'm sure not much has changed.  

As I'm writing this, enveloped by nostalgia, it occurs to me that I have a completely naive perspective on where I grew up.  As I think back now with my "adult brain," I realize that gun shots were often heard just three blocks to the east.  A man was murdered in his ex-wife's front yard when I was 13-years-old just three blocks from my house on the same street.  Just thirty yards from my beloved childhood home, was a rundown, stucco, eight-unit, poverty-stricken apartment building.  One afternoon, an undercover police office asked my mother if he could stake out the apartments from our front lawn.  My mother tried to shield my brother and I from the echoing late night noise and the naked bodies that graced the top floor.

Behind the manicured lawns and the joyful children, were destructive families that couldn't shake the grip of divorce and drugs and depression.

But the neighborhood was real.  There is no doubt about that.  Real lives, real people, doing real things. 

When my parents moved to Murphy, a northeast suburb of Dallas,  in the summer of 2011, we all realized how much "normal life" as we knew it was now over.  People in your own neighborhood were no longer waving to you.  In fact, they were no longer even spending any time at all their front yard.  The extent of activity in pristine front yards was the weekly presence of brown-skinned laborers--doing the "normal" work for the rich.  One morning, my mother was in the front yard picking some weeds and was scoffed at by two women in their upscale "workout" clothes, "Is she picking her own weeds (gasp)?"  

Neighbors would pull in to their garages and wait until the garage door came to a complete closure before exiting their vehicles.  No sign of any neighborly normal as we knew it.  Mothers of luxury and live-in nannies had to go inside the school building to retrieve their children--the reality of walking home with the neighborhood kids did not exist there.

My parents started referring to their new strange way-of-life as "Polycartville."  This came from the absence of dumpsters and being forced to implement the "prissy" way of disposing of trash by placing a large trash bin at the edge of your curb once a week for the garbage truck to empty.  

In Polycartville, you couldn't even have your own garage sale--no, of course not, that would be tacky.  You couldn't leave parked cars along the curb, unless it was your "help" coming to clean the pool, mow your lawn, or even clean your aquarium.  Polycartville didn't allow any flag flying, front-facing garages, and a number of other "normal-life" things.  This is a neighborhood for the rich, and you better act rich while you live here, or you'll get a nasty letter from the neighborhood homeowner's association (HOA).

I must give my mother credit, though.  For any of you who have not met my mother, you are missing out. She didn't let the annoyances of Polycartville stop her from doing somewhat normal things.  She made friends with the neighborhood women, still wore her workout clothes from Target, and still went out in the front yard to pick her own weeds.  (Although she did hire a pool boy.)  She adapted well.  She's a champ.  You should meet her.  

I'm not sure how I got all twisted off on that whole thing, but the point was to discuss my new neighborhood.  I guess I felt that background was necessary for you to understand where I'm going with my new neighborhood praise.  My new neighborhood is beautiful.  Not a single home looks like the rest.  It's old, and has large, overgrown trees and vegetation.  Each yard is different and unique, there are parks throughout and often.  People are walking their dogs, kids are skateboarding, my neighbor up the road has a self-created sandbox in his/her yard.  People live sustainable, wholesome, healthy lives.  

In our neighborhood, we have healthy grocery stores and safe streets and parks to be active in.  When out for my walks, I see men working on their cars, people walking their dogs, kids playing soccer, and a yoga class in the park.  The grass is green and lush.  The trees provide relief from the golden New Mexican sun.  There are recycling bins (come on people, its time we got real about the benefits of recycling #realtalk).  People keep up their old homes, as my parents once did in their old home.  When something breaks, they fix it.  People know their neighbors and pet each others' dogs.  

This was taken on one of my walks a few days ago.  This house is on my same street. I cannot describe the joy this brought me.  Neighbors encouraging neighbors to be artistic and creative.  I'm no poet, but I support this endeavor so much, that I will attempt to write one.

The quality of life in my neighborhood is good, sustainable, stable, kind, and naturally beautiful.  I'm happy to be here, and when neighbors feel like that, that's when our quality of life goes up.

If I'm being thoughtful, and we all know that's what I do--sit around and think and over-think and rethink, I feel like all these qualities are missing in the more "conservative" neighborhoods.  Perhaps the hippie/free-spirited lifestyle is more "neighborly" and lends itself to the idea of living healthy and being in sync with one's surroundings.  In this neighborhood, there are weird things in people's front yards, like couches, and sandboxes, and campers.  No one gets mad about that.  There is no HOA telling you that you can't have that stuff on your own property.  People who live in this neighborhood have embraced that those things are all part of real life.

After all, who wouldn't want to live in a neighborhood like that?

Here I Am

Dear friends, followers, and casual browsers,

There isn't possibly an explanation for my disappearance this time, except for the fact that I just didn't feel like I had anything to write about-- which is heartbreaking when I look back on that, because this should be my therapy, not my duty.  Needless to say, I suddenly feel like I have pages to write, so that was your fair warning.  Point your browser elsewhere, or get sucked into my meandering thoughts (which will span across the next few posts).

Many things have happened since my last post in February--as things tend to do.  I returned back to Midland, TX,  where my parents live, after concluding my work at the New Mexico State Capitol.  I was sad to leave Santa Fe, to say the least, but no other opportunities to stay had presented themselves.  I made so many fabulous friends working at the Capitol, and truly loved the work that I did, but alas, I did not have much of a choice- with no job offer and no place to live- but to head back to West Texas.   

While back in Midland, I continued with my job and soul searching, but the most valuable thing that happened in Midland was that I was able to spend quality, irreplaceable, loving time with my mother.  I might not ever have four months of my life ever again to spend every morning having coffee, going out (and standing in line) for lunch, or giving endless opinions on the details of her house that she and my dad have been building.  In fact, I probably won't ever have that chance again, which saddens me, but I will never forget that treasured time. Mom, I love you and I appreciate what you and Dad have done for me these past two, very difficult for all of us, years.  And I'll never make coffee as well as you do.   

After months of stagnant job searching and fruitless networking, my parents and I (with lots of consulting my dear friends) decided it was best for me to get back to New Mexico and just hope for the best.  I had found a really stable living situation in terms of location and roommate, so I finally decided to take that opportunity by the horns and make the best of relocating my life back to Albuquerque.  And here I am.

Turns out the chance I took was worth it.  Thank you to all my friends who knew that was one of the most difficult decisions I've made in my recent life--your support made it easier.  I love my house and roommate, and I have been presented with an amazing job opportunity (which I obviously took!).  It has been one week since I've started my new job working for a lobbyist, and a great first step toward my career goals.  More about my job in another post.

However, just when you think things in life are at their best, something always seems to take a turn for the worst.  This happened to me a week ago, and is perhaps the reason I am writing to you today.  I've felt a yearning to blog again for weeks, but it is almost like I had to be completely broken down to finally face Days in Red again.  (And yes, my dear friend Jordan had recently made the comment to me, "Days in Red?? More like Days in DEAD!" and that had an affect on me. ;))  So, despite the new job and the new place, I'm still facing an extremely painful trial in my life, which I am not yet ready to blog about, but I will be soon.  Funny how we come back to the things we love, or our "aesthetic/artistic pleasure" when we are at our low points, huh?  Perhaps at our low points is when we realize who we really want to be when we are at our high points.  I don't know. But here I am.

La Fiesta de Cumpleanos

Good morning!  It is such a lovely morning in Santa Fe.  If you aren't here, I wish you were.

To those of you who don't know, I just celebrated my 24th birthday on Sunday! I've been whining to my parents about how old I am compared to my peers, and that I'm not really sure what one is supposed to be doing when they're 24.  Some of my closest friends whom I grew up with are mothers by now, some are wives, some are graduate students, and some are undergraduate students.  Very few, in fact, I can't think of a single one, are searching for a career like I am, so I feel particularly directionless (my dad would probably concur- even though I try really hard to pretend like I'm not) in terms of what to do next with my life.

There's my "What am I doing with my life?" rant for this blog.  I'm sure I'll subject you to another one, or ten, down the road.  Bear with me.

Anyway, on Saturday I spent the day following a lobbyist around for lunch at the local lobbyist hangout.  He spent the day introducing me to other lobbyists and legislators, which I hope will be hugely beneficial during my job hunt.

Saturday evening, I threw a birthday party at my house in Santa Fe.  There were about 18 people who came and we spent the evening playing karaoke, Just Dance on the XBOX, and, of course, talking about politics because that's what we do best.

Sunday morning, a few of us went to the Santa Fe National Forest to the hot springs.  This was the highlight of my weekend by far.  The Santa Fe National Forest and the Jemez hot springs is located here, just southwest of Los Alamos and northwest of Albuquerque.  This State Highway 4 through the National Forest is a designated National Scenic Highway, and it surely didn't disappoint.  My friends and I kept saying, "Can you believe something so beautiful as this is in New Mexico?"  We were awestricken.  We went north from Santa Fe to Los Alamos, and got to drive through the Los Alamos National Labs security on the highway.  If you have no idea what the Los Alamos National Labs are, brush up on your history of the Manhattan Project here.  It's worth a look, plus, you all know how I feel about knowing important parts of history.

It took us a while to find the hot springs, but we finally figured out that the natural hot springs are not commercialized, nor are they marked by signs, and are known only to the locals/natives.  We finally stopped and asked someone and his directions were, "Yeah, hike up this mountain for about a mile.  You'll come upon some hot springs at some point."  I love New Mexicans.  Sure enough, we hiked straight up rocks and ice for a mile, almost died from an asthma attack, and finally came to some very peaceful, steamy hot springs sitting at the top of the mountain overlooking the most gorgeous views of the National Forest.  New Mexico is surely not short of any natural beauty.

 On the hike up to the hot springs.

 Soda Dam- This naturally created dam is where water from underground hot springs has flowed for centuries. The buildup of mineral deposits has formed a unique and spectacular natural dam that blocks the Jemez River.

 Braving the ice trail!

 The hot spring we soaked in.

 It was so beautiful, it was hard to not take pictures of everything.

 Soda Dam again.

The Valles Caldera Wildlife Preserve

Back Home

Friends,

Once again, I have failed the test of time with keeping up with my blog.  I could make a lot of excuses per usual, but quite honestly, I went through a period in my life where I just simply didn't have much to write about.

Since I last wrote to you, I have moved from Midland, TX to Santa Fe, NM.  Thanks to a family friend, and state representative from my hometown, Artesia--I got the opportunity to work the NM State Legislative Session here at the State Capitol, and took it with no hesitation.  I moved back to NM the first week of January, which means I've been here one month as of today.

The last time I lived in New Mexico before moving back one month ago was June 2011.  As I've mentioned before, my parents raised me in New Mexico and lived here, in Artesia, until moving to Texas in June 2011.  Shortly after that, I went to England for a few months, and spent last year in Dallas and Midland with them. 

New Mexico is commonly referred to, by the citizens of the state, as the Land of Entrapment (which is a play on the state's slogan, "Land of Enchantment").  So, I suppose that means that I am a victim of the common saying, and 18 months later, I am back in the state I call home, and I could not be more happy about it.

I live in a (super awesome) house in the Eldorado community about ten miles outside of Santa Fe with two other girls who are also working the Session as well.  Both girls are from southeastern NM like myself.  We're renting a house from a couple who works in the film industry.  In fact, the owner worked on the popular AMC TV show, Breaking Bad, which is filmed in Albuquerque.  The homeowners are now on a new filming adventure in Washington, DC, for the HBO series, Veep.  We're house/dog sitting while they're away.  The timing and set-up worked out perfectly, really.  Except for the fact that their dogs are monsters.  Which I'll get back to later.

My job at the State Capitol--commonly referred to as the Roundhouse (because it is a round, well, house)--is working for two representatives.  I do everything for them--you name it.  In government, all the real work gets done by bureaucratic staff. (#you're welcome.)  My representatives are wonderful and they keep me busy.  New Mexico's fiercely diverse population with vastly differing opinions comes to the surface each year during the Legislative Session, and this year is no different.  I, quite honestly, cannot get enough of it.  I am taking in every moment with the legislators, every vote, every piece of legislation, every lobbyist, and every Indian who comes to my office to sell me their handcrafted turquoise jewelry.  

It's a great place, really.  Come visit.  My roommates and I will cook you something fabulous with green chile, challenge you to a game of Just Dance on the XBOX, and take you on a hike with our monster dogs (and maybe send them home with you).  

The Roommates.

Our Casita 

The Monsters: Tess, Cody, Roxy

Neighborhood View

Sunset from our living room window

The House of Representatives Chamber

Legislative Session Opening Ceremony (Governor Martinez in red)

  

I'll try to not make this painful.

Okay, I know you probably didn't come to Days in Red to read my political views, so I'll try to make this quick and fast--like ripping off a band aid.  No, I'm not going to discuss the presidential debates, or even the presidential candidates (that's next time, muwahaha ;)), but the much lamer issue at hand--Congress.

Last Friday, I went with some coworkers to Luigi's, an Italian restaurant in downtown Midland.  At lunch, I overheard one of the ladies saying that it didn't matter who wins the presidency, what matters is who we elect to Congress since they, "control most of the issues that concern us anyway, the president just gets blamed for them."  Okay, fairly valid point (in case you're wondering, I kept my mouth shut!).  When I got back to my computer, I decided to research some facts on the 112th Congress (our current fine lawmakers) to see how they compare to previous Congresses, so I could see if this practice of "do-nothing" Congress is a tradition, or if it is a more recent development.

The paradoxical thing about Congress, is that the Framers of the Constitution designated Congress as the branch of government that is the most directly connected to the people, yet it is the institution that we Americans despise the most.  Incidentally, the Supreme Court is the most removed from the people and public opinion, yet Gallup polls declare that the Court is the institution we trust the most.  Wait...what?  Gallup research also indicates that Americans don't dislike their congressperson, it's everyone else's.

Regardless of your political views, the fact that Congress is morally bankrupt is something we can all agree on.  But, just how bad is it?  

Bad, my friends.  

This batch of "Brooks Brothers barnacles" has managed to do worse than the 111 Congresses that preceded them.  They've broken the system.  The approval rating of the 112th Congress is hovering above the margin of error--and that's only because a percentage of people polled believe the president to be Martin Sheen (the president in the hit TV series The West Wing).

Let's start with the Senate.  Because of the abuse of the filibuster, the Senate is now dysfunctional.  The filibuster is a practice as old as the institution that was originally designed to delay vote through a senator's blabbering.  Famous uses of the filibuster have gone on for up to 24 hours (really, people, come on).  Now, this practice is used a veto threat by both parties, and anything less than the 60-member super majority means stalemate.  In other words, without a super majority "nothing" is possible.  The same amount of votes it takes to amend the Constitution is now the same number of votes it takes to rename a post office.

Speaking of renaming post offices, that is about all the House has been doing for the past two years.  Naming things that already have a name.  Out of the pathetic 124 laws that have originated in the House, 27 of them have been to rename post offices (See congress.gov). They have issued two commemorative coins.  How do they compare?  Typically, circa 300 laws originate in the House every two years regardless of party control.  

What has the House been doing?  See Eric Cantor, the House Majority Leader's website.  According to the official House calendar, the House is "in session" 104 days this year.  104 days out of 365?!  That's less than four months!  I used to think that House recess was a Nancy Pelosi thing--nope.  Seems as if the "do nothing" attitude doesn't discriminate against party.  I don't know if that cracks me up, or if that deeply insults me.  Haven't decided yet.  But I have decided that I want to be a congresswoman so I can party all the time.

Doing "nothing" would be something to aspire to.

The House has voted (and failed) to overturn ObamaCare 33 times.  As if the president would ever sign that piece of legislation.  Ever.  (Yep, that's right, not only are they unsuccessful at creating new laws, they're unsuccessful at disbanding old ones.)

Congress is on yet another break right now until November 13, to go campaign for the jobs that they already don't do.

When I was discussing all this with my dad the other evening he made the argument that maybe this is a good thing.  The less the government does, the better.  What do you think?  Why are they there in the first place?

The choice is yours, people.  Vote.

My Mid-Hiatus

Holy moly!  Good morning! Man, I am happy to be blogging today.  Days in Red has been on quite the hiatus (I know you're thinking "Hiatus? Yeah, right! More like a full-on break-up! But it's hip to use the word "hiatus" in the Blogosphere, so I'm taking full advantage) the past nine months, but we’re back and ready-oh, so ready- to write. 

My last post I wrote to you from a Starbucks in Leeds, England where I was finishing up my semester abroad and only hours away from returning to America.  Today, I write to you from an office building in Midland, Texas (a little less climatic, I know).  In the last nine months, I have been to Boston, New Orleans, upstate New York, and all over west Texas and southeast NM.  I attempted to be—and failed miserably—a waitress at an expensive Latin restaurant in the chic north Dallas suburbs.  I have started and completed a sales associate position at Nordstrom—a top upscale American department store and a great company to work for (and a great way to stock your wardrobe… just sayin’…).  

Also, I watched my parents wrestle with a difficult decision to sell their dream home in Murphy (one of those chic north Dallas suburbs) and give up their brief life as big-city people, to come back to their roots in the sticks of west Texas to follow an opportunity that was too-good-to-pass-up.  I’ve also been back to Albuquerque (shout out to all my ABQ homies!) to have LASIK eye surgery—which was totally awesome and amazing.  While all that madness has been happening, I’ve also applied to about 443 jobs.  So, a lot has been going on!

My parents and I are now living in Midland, TX and it’s… well, it’s not Dallas J.  But it isn’t bad either.  It is just taking some adjusting for me.  My parents are in the middle of building a house, so they’re fairly consumed with that and all it entails.  And I’m working a job that I hate, which is allowing me to write to you fine folks, and to also keep looking for another job elsewhere, so I guess it isn’t so bad either.  I don’t have any friends here yet, so I’m spending my time powering through novel after novel, job application after job application.  Oh, and I’ve started doing INSANITY, a 60-day workout program that is absolutely miserable, but kind of wonderful at the same time.

Y’all—how about Days in Red’s new look?!  Spiffy, eh?  I know there is still stuff I need to add like Photos, and stuff in the About Me, but I’ll get there.  I just couldn’t wait any longer to get this post up.  Thanks for stopping by, I love you, and let’s talk again soon.

A bit about travel and free speech

I've just had my first real job interview via Skype!  (Don't you love technology?)  It went really well.  We'll see if they thought the same!

I have a few things to tell you!  First, I'll be in Boston tomorrow!  I'm so excited.  I'll be meeting up with a friend from Albuquerque, and of course, being a tourist and seeing the city.  The east coast is supposed to get dumped on with snow tomorrow, so hopefully my flight plans don't get messed with.

As I said in my last blog, the Aussies and I went to Bath and Stonehenge earlier this week.  Special thanks to my friend Mike Manz who suggested we go.  (Everyone say hi, Mike!)  Mike was one of my friends in the BA/MD Program-- we go way back.  He's been to Bath and said it was something I definitely shouldn't miss; he was right!

The town of Bath and the Stonehenge monument were beautiful, but holy moley, it was cold!  We were lucky to have sunshine though and no wind so it was bearable.  We got to see the ancient Roman bath ruins, which were super cool, then we went out to Stonehenge on a bus.  In the evening, we went and got in the baths that are open to the public.

I've been asked to talk a little bit about hostels.  Yes, that's what I've been staying in while I've been traveling (travelling?) around, and I stayed in one in Bath.  Hostels are awesome... mostly, haha.  The concept is that it is a cheap place for travelers to stay and a fun way to meet fellow travelers.  The more inconvenient- the cheaper it gets.  So, you can typically choose any type of room to stay in.  Some rooms have 4 beds, 8 beds, 12 beds, 32 beds, etc.  (Bunk beds, of course).  Each also has their own way of doing a bathroom.  Some of the smaller rooms have their own bathroom, and the ones with more beds have big co-ed bathrooms.  You can also choose if you want it to be "mixed" or "all female" or "all male."  Theoretically, you can be in a room with 11 other strangers, men and women, from all over the world.  Which has been the case in most the places I've stayed.  Some hostels are definitely better than others.  Most of them also have a bar or some area for everyone to hang out and meet each other.  Most of them also have Internet and free breakfast.  It's a good deal, and it is definitely the way to travel cheaply.  But, it's definitely for young people!  In fact, I'm staying in a hostel in Boston this weekend.  Should be fun.

Here are some pictures!  The Roman baths are the first ones.

Moving on from Bath, I also want to talk to you a little bit about the current legislation in Congress-- SOPA/PIPA.  (I know, I know- here come those politics!)  The main thing I want to tell you is to please learn what these bills are and what they entail.  I know that reading legislation sounds intimidating/awful, but these are really important and could bring about a lot of potential change to the Internet.  I've done some of my own research, and yes, it is complicated, but it is worth learning.  I've copied two links at the bottom of this blog for you to visit.  They might help you learn more about the proposed legislation.  Basically, there are potentially awful consequences in terms of free speech rights, but there are also some valid points with respect to copyright laws.

For example, if I type the word "Oreo" in this blog, my own personal blog, I could be sued for violating copyright for writing the word without permission from Nabisco, or any other type of "thing" that has a copyright.  On the other hand, since this is an open blog, someone else can come in and steal the pictures I've posted and use them for their own purposes, but if these laws passed, those people could be prosecuted for stealing my property.  It is also important to keep in mind that the Internet is a place of public contribution.  That's the beauty of it.  We can all participate and contribute to each others' ideas.  We don't want that to disappear, but we also need to figure out an effective way to protect those who are contributing.  It's a difficult conundrum.  PLEASE realize that those are incredibly simplified examples and you should definitely do your part in the process of democracy and learn about the proposed legislation and develop your own personal opinion.  Be informed.

The Washington Post
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052970203735304577167261853938938.html?mod=e2tw

Please watch this video:

Such is Life

Friends,
I am writing to you from a Starbucks in Leeds where I have just finished my final essay!  And with that, and some stellar news from UNM, you are reading the words from a recent college graduate.  Exciting!  Now, to find a job... which is the case for 9% of Americans.  I guess now I am the 9%?

I am one week away from joining most of you in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave, and cannot wait!  My time here in England has been, well, a whole list of adjectives.  The most valuable fruit that is coming from this trip is knowledge.  I cannot tell you how many hours I have spent enriching my mind with knowledge of history and culture by traveling, conversing, and honestly, spending hours upon hours on Wikipedia.  I have come to believe that perhaps the most valuable knowledge one can acquire is through learning and accepting cultures different than your own.    I know this experience will serve me well for the rest of my life, and the journey of my knowledge does not end with the acquisition of my college degree, but only begins.  These past five months, I've been able to evaluate why I believe the things I do,  and why other believe the things they do.  I am so blessed and thankful for this opportunity, and it would not have been possible without support from my beloved UNM, the Chase Foundation and my dear friends from Artesia, and of course, my sweet parents who support and encourage my dreams (even though my dad raises his eyebrows at some of my schemes).

Goodness, now I'm all teared up!  (All that being said, I still believe that the United States of America is, by far, the greatest nation on earth!) Like I said, this is my final week in England.  Tomorrow, the Aussies and I are going to Bath and Stonehenge, which we are really excited about!  Bath is an ancient Roman city that, you guessed it, has ancient Roman bath ruins.  And I don't need to tell you what Stonehenge is (or at least I hope I don't! see Wikipedia if necessary!).  This is our final hurrah together and we'll make the most of it.  I'll be sure to let you know all about it when I get back.  Next Saturday, I will be flying from London to Boston to see the city (always wanted to) and learn about some of my own history!  Then, I'll be heading to Pittsburgh for a day or two, where I will make a day trip to Shanksville to see the 9/11 memorial where United flight 93 crashed.  I'm feeling ever-so-compelled to visit the memorial.

After all that, I'll return to Dallas for a few days and then head out to New Orleans for the weekend (it never ends).  Then, the real world hits and I have to get out of the unemployed 9% and find a job.  Should be exciting (and by exciting, I actually mean stressful, haha)!  Now I must put to use all that I have learned to do something good--to contribute to the world we live in.  In the words of Peter Parker, "With great knowledge comes great responsibility."  (Actually, he said power not knowledge.  Power/knowledge, same thing.)

I promise to write soon about my trips in December to Italy, Paris, Holland, and Scotland.

Go Broncos!

Make a career of humanity. Commit yourself to the noble struggle for equal rights. You will make a greater person of yourself, a greater nation of your country, and a finer world to live in. -Martin Luther King Jr.

Back on the Map

Morocco, a set on Flickr.

It sure does feel good to be sitting down at my computer to write for fun.

I don't even know where to start. It's been one month and one day since my last post, and it has been the most eventful six weeks of my life. I have so much to tell you, but I'm going to have to limit it to squeeze it all in--or else I'll be here for ages! I'm going to give you a brief recap of what I've been up to and I'll add a few of my favorite pictures and stories from each place over the course of a few separate blogs. Tonight I will start with Morocco.

On the other hand, England is incredibly backward (in more ways than one) and it is finals week here for the fall semester. That being said, yesterday I was very happy to turn in a 4000-word essay that discussed the ways in which Americans view their First Amendment rights post-9/11 (if that sounds hard to you, it was!). I have one more essay that I am about halfway through and will turn it in on Friday. And that, friends, will be the final essay of my undergraduate career.

Before I go on a tangent about my travels, I would like to give a shout out to my mom and dad. Tomorrow, January 11, is their 26th wedding anniversary. How amazing is that?! If you have their numbers or email addresses, shoot them a happy anniversary because they sure do deserve it. There is a good chance that if you are reading this you have, at some point in your life, been inspired by my parents. They are amazing examples of love, marriage, humility, frugality, friendship, honesty, and dozens of other adjectives that I can't think of right now. So, here's to you, Tami and Darrick. I love you. Thank you for being incredible parents. I hope that some day I can only be so blessed to have a love as beautiful as yours.

Without further adieu, I present to you--Chelsea's wild and crazy six weeks in a nutshell.

Marrakech, Morocco (Click to see the map)
I spent December 2-5 in Marrakech and it was unlike anything I've ever seen. It was so much like what you would expect to see in Africa/Aladdin/a third world country. Marrakech is the heart of Morocco with so much history behind it. I, naturally, wanted to visit Casablanca because of the movie, but I'm so glad I went to Marrakech. I got to brave the city bartering markets, ride a camel in the Sahara, and I travel high into the top of the Atlas Mountains and see the most primitive villages, and yet the most beautiful nature I've ever seen in my life. It was truly remarkable--a beauty so striking that it could only be created by the hands and vivid imagination of God.  Check out the photos and captions.