one horse dies

A friend sent me a link to this article in the NY Times.

I'm not the only one feeling sad about the death of a horse I didn't know.

I know, okay? There is no logical reason to feel sad about Barbaro's death...and yet as this article suggests, maybe it's not Barbaro, maybe it's because of every horse is pure of heart.

Yes, I did tear up during the Flicka trailer, (the new one, the one that will probably be completely stupid) and even though I've seen it many times, I always cry during Old Yeller, and yes, even though I've read it several times, I'm sure I'll cry again the next time I read Where the Red Fern Grows. Actually, I'm glad these things still get to me. I hope they always do.

Back to work...back to prepping for my class and logging and editing Roadside Texas and writing the next new thing and getting JOB sold and completing a freelance assignment and sorting through the stack of paperwork on my desk.

born to run

I am not a fan of horse racing, I'm a fan of running horses and Barbaro was born to run.

I don't want to think about the ethics of using animals to make money, pushing them through race after race, or the money spent to try to reconstruct them so they can at least be used for stud purposes, but one can hardly help thinking of all of that.

Barbaro's x-ray is not unlike mine, a rattletrap, train track of rods and pins.

Let's hope that we all learned a little something from Barbaro, more than that he was a fine racehorse, maybe that we have to be a little easier on the fast runners.

counting

Last week volunteers turned out all over Austin to count homeless people. We looked everywhere, in cars, parks, creeks, down little paths behind grocery stores, and even in ritzy neighborhoods. It's invasive, certainly, but without counting as many people as we can, funding is cut.

All in all, we counted 1700 homeless people. We didn't get them all, the homeless are good at hiding, most don't want to be found, they could be anywhere, in your neighborhood even. I saw some on my run Saturday morning, sleeping by the lake in puffy sleeping bags, peaceful as could be. I see them on my run through my neighborhood, too.

There was some concern among my friends that counting the homeless is dangerous work. I guess that is the fear of the unknown, the devil you don't know. It isn't dangerous. I know quite a few homeless people and I'm not threatening, and I'm not afraid. Traffic, shopping malls, litterbugs, and people with big egos scare me, not homeless people.

We came bearing socks, thick, white tube socks. When we were someplace we knew someone was sleeping, an alley, a church patio, a hidden area behind a store, we left socks they could find later, a little surprise.

I ran into some old friends who promised to come and see me on Wednesday, but I didn't find that one friend that I keep looking for. I haven't seen J.P. since last Christmas Eve. He disappeared, no one has seen him in months. Before he was homeless J.P. was a photographer. When we became friends, I'd bring my camera and after my shift we'd go out and take pictures together. He could read the light, no meter necessary. "Try a F8 at 11." "This looks like an F16 to me."

I still miss him.

David Lynch

I didn't go see Inland Empire last night, I already had plans I couldn't change and I get a little nervous about attending big "celebrity" screenings. I was happy that I was able to go to David's Q&A Texas Monthly Talk yesterday afternoon. The session was right after my class, in the same building, a few floors up.

Yes, David has a funny way of moving his very long fingers. It's endearing, at least to me it is. You can tell he's thinking and you can tell he doesn't care what people think about what his waving fingers.

I loved it when David told us his favorite moment in the theatre is when the lights come down, the curtains go up and he goes into another world saying that every film takes you there. He still loves that moment, it's "magic", he said.

As a painter, coffee brewer, author, and filmmaker, David stays busy. He said that his enthusiasm and inspiration and ideas "drive his boat." He doesn't like to sit still, he likes to get things done and to this end, he loves to reach the state of transcendence he only finds in meditation.

He said when he realized meditation is actually more than sitting still with your eyes closed, he began to discover it's power. He wrote a book on TM and has been practicing for 33 years. He said there are endless ideas and solutions within.

On low budget film making, David said he still believes that not having money to throw at a problem always results in a better solution. He loves seeing how a story is shaped and how it progresses, mostly he loves to see how a story is told.

Oh and of his coffee, David says, "there's an idea in every bean." Sounds like some damn good coffee.

While I may never be a true "Lynch fan", Eraserhead leaves me cold and sad, I have long appreciated David Lynch as an storyteller. After seeing him, for just a little while, I also admire his pleasant nature and his enthusiasm for life.

thoughts for the day...

I agree with David, this is confusing and disheartening...
would this be like being in a band and not loving music?
or ?

"...I was introduced to some people that work in movies, but don't love them. That was somewhat confusing, frustrating and disheartening.
David Gordon Green

and then I saw this:

Geostationary Banana over Texas

(Roadside Texas must investigate further.)

Sundance 2007

(I stole these images from Tractor Facts. ) ( I still love you Robert!, at least in a celebrity crush kind of way.)

the titanium rod club

I'm starting a club for people who have been patched together with titanium or other types of bio metal. A club will allow us all to talk about our hardware and discuss what it's like to be part cyborg, how we feel about airport security screens and the story about the time we set off the alarm. We'll also talk about surgery and how many we've had. I'd also like to talk to people about their scars and whether they are also thinking about getting a tattoo over them.

About two weeks ago a woman emailed me after doing a google search for "titanium +humerus". (I included some notes on my 4th surgery on my blog.) She was surprised to find someone who'd had a similar surgery and we became email friends. She was injured when she fell off a horse and landed wrong. (That doesn't mean horses are necessarily dangerous, I have another friend who broke his arm playing tennis.) Anyway, we can talk about things like bone stimulators, calcium supplements and the blanket warmers they have in recovery rooms which mean you get covered with a nice warm blanket while you eat your ice chips. We can also talk about the psychology of healing and how that one injury, that one titanium rod and the scars that cover it can start to make you feel like one big wound if you're not careful. There is a good side to all of this, too. You can't survive surgery once, much less multiple times, without feeling victorious and resilient.

I was thinking about this on my run this morning. It was cold at 7:30 a.m. and if Kat hadn't come to pick me up, I would have been happy to snuggle back in the covers. As always, after we were a few minutes down the trail, I was warmer and I was able to notice what a beautiful morning we had to run in. I feel very fortunate to be outside on a clear, sunny morning, fog on the water, air crisp and fresh.

out into the world

For the past two days our Mailman hasn't made it down Rosedale Avenue. I know they said, "through snow, and sleet and freezing rain", but that was before Netflix and junk mail, neither are worth risking injury.

• I've captured and logged all the footage we shot for Roadside. I'll have DVDs for the other producers by Friday. The footage looks beautiful. We shot on a Panasonic at 24p, entirely handheld. Our DP, Holly Brunkow, is tiny and strong and has a great eye.
  
  
• I hooked up the Epson V750 Pro negative scanner I bought with a friend, to my Macbook and have been scanning negatives. I miss printing film the old fashioned way; watching the image emerge in a dark room, playing with time and exposure, all the while listening to a talking heads/squirrel nut zippers/handsome family mix someone put in the stereo. Still, I'm amazed at what this scanner knows to do and I'm only beginning to learn how to tell it what I'd like it to do. This is much better for the planet, too, I just need to turn the lights down and put some music on when I scan.
  
  
• The cats have been inside all during the snowy icy week and are completely bored with it all. Tux fancies himself a techie and likes to sit in my office chair while I capture footage. Now that it's over there is nothing interesting for him to watch and he seems confused by that. (If I were a better cat owner, I'd put a movie on for him.) Nara has been needy and clingy, as usual. (I'm sorry I'm not a better person, Nara.) Right now, the cats are playing with all the cords under the desk, not good.
  
  
• As for the dogs, I'm not sure their world has been all that different this week. They eat, they sleep, they drink water. Good Buddhist dogs.
  
  
• I finally got a run in yesterday. I ran to the Central Market track and ran around it 9 times, a total of a little over 6 miles. It was my first run since last Thursday and it felt amazing. The half marathon is only a few weeks away, I need some cold weather practice. I still refuse to run in the rain, life is too short for that.
  
  
• Today, I start a new job of sorts. I'm going to be a producing mentor at UTFI, many thanks to my new friend Megan for recommending me. This will get me out of the house more and it will be big fun.
  
  
• I'm also happy to report that I have a little article published in Filmmaker magazine. I had a goal last year of being published in a larger market than my freelance work allows and getting a byline for real. I heard it might happen just before Christmas, but because I didn't even get the article in until mid December, I wasn't sure they'd be able to get it in the Winter07 issue. If you want, you can read it here.
  
  
• Today feels like the beginning, rather than the middle of the week. Tonight is Kat's mentored screening, which I promised I'd attend, then a party. It will be nice to be out and about.
  

i love snow days...

Kat is clearly not loving the snow. Yes, I know it's a huge problem for lots of people, and we don't officially have snow, we have a little snow mixed with ice and the roads are shut down and the stores and libraries and coffee shops all being closed, it's a hassle and it's an economic disaster.

Still, it's a snow day and tomorrow it's supposed to snow, not ice, SNOW, at least two inches!

This morning my neighbors invited me over for waffles (with dark chocolate chips and real maple syrup). We went on a walk with all the dogs and watched the neighbor kids with their cardboard sleds sliding down the tiny hills of Ramsey Park. There's something about a 2 year old in a red wool cap sliding down a little hill...there just is. The dogs couldn't figure out the snow. Cowgirl had to come inside early, she has sensitive feet. Keni and Roy loved it and Roy came back inside with tiny icicles hanging on his beard.

The rest of the day was spent catching up on reading, writing, paperwork, chats with friends and listening to the rain then snow then sleet against the house. Now, it's Tuesday and I'm ready for the rest of the week, all caught up!

I'm glad I bought all those oranges recently. Between the oranges, movies, and that bit of dark chocolate I've been saving, I'm happily snowbound.

Snow days aren't so bad. Stay home, be grateful for warmth and for good company whether it's friends, neighbors, pets, yourself or all of the above.

gotta go, that tiny slab of dark chocolate I've been saving beckons...

Pan's Labyrinth

I braved the ice to see Pan's Labyrinth today.

I tried to see it on Sunday, but had to settle for a lesser film when it sold out.
Not so today.
I stayed through the credits, the music is incredible. Outside, rain was already coming down and my car windows were icey. But, what's a little ice when you've just seen a girl battle giant bullfrogs and...I don't want to give anything away.
Go see it yourself. Then, we can talk about it.

Lionel!

Lionel and I were playing around with photo booth today while I was filling in at Trinity. I told him I'd post these on the web. Lionel and I have been friends for about three years now. He's great.

on the road...

Early yesterday morning, Kat, Barb, Buckner, Holly and I set out to shoot the pilot for Roadside, Texas. This project, has been a long time in the thinking. It's been on my list, near the top for, well, quite a while. But, if you know me, you already know that and you know I love road trips and stopping off at crazy places just to see what's there and hear stories.

We set out early and headed south on I35 to San Antonio. I35 has a lot of strip malls, an outlet mall, many many car dealerships. However, we focused on the other view of I35 which included a pasture full of donkeys, an olde time bakery, some architecturally interesting dilapidated hotels, funny billboards and of course, the standard Texas cow pasture.

In San Antonio, we met up with Barney Smith, proprietor of the Toilet Seat Museum. I met Barney a few years ago, when I shot a very very short documentary about him. I wanted to go back because he's sweet, charming and has an amazing story. He's as sweet as ever, like an Uncle Barney. Since I saw him last, he's made quite a few new toilet seats, and has been on The View.


Next we visited Herb at the Wooden Nickel museum. Herb's story is pretty wonderful, too. If you don't know much about wooden nickels, you should get right over to the website and read up.

Barney and Herb each have a passion for what they do, but that's just the beginning of their stories. Telling the rest of their stories is the work of our documentary series. Passion is one thing, follow through another. One person might take a toilet seat (unused, of course), glue on a piece of the space shuttle and call it good. For another, one toilet seat will never be enough. They will continue to create until they have over 800 toilet seats covered with dog tags, parts of a train set, a button collection, bingo paraphernalia, a nativity scene, the face of brad pitt, an old elvis record or even their family tree.
One guy may buy a wooden nickel factory complete with a printing press from the 1850's and call it a side business. Another will create a special tool for the press that increases it's capabilities and speed, start sorting wooden nickels by type, age and size, open a museum and then decide to build the biggest wooden nickel in the world. Go figure.

Driving home, we discussed the fact we are all the family "oddballs". We're accused of doing too much, our curiosity keeps us busy, I guess, and sometimes it gets us a lot of flack and rolled eyes. Today, however, our curiousity got us quite a bit more including a t-shirt, a sack of wooden nickels and fame, as soon we'll all be featured on a toilet seat that Barney will hang in his museum.

Got home late, couldn't sleep, too excited.

And that's what I call, a good day.

horses

On Friday, Annalise and I had a horseback riding lesson. It was too muddy for a trail ride, so we rode in the "ring'. She rode a lithe former racer named Tigger. He was small and fast. I picked out "Texas", a quarter horse who is so tall I had to stand on a 4 foot stool to get in the saddle. He was smart and feisty and I started thinking of how I might be able to have him be my horse for real, which is kind of unrealistic right now.

I was one of those horse crazy girls and I still am. I spent many a Saturday and Sunday afternoon with Diamond, my Tennessee Walker/pasture horse. I begged my parents for a horse everyday for about three years and I saved my babysitting money to buy feed and horse stuff. I had a budget and a plan and I spent hours revising it, trying to convince them that this was a good idea. (Not really that different from the career I've ended up in when you think about it.) Finally they broke down and bought Diamond for $150 (including saddle, bridal and blanket) from a friend who bought her for their kids before they completely lost interest in her.
Not me. I braided her tail and combed her mane and polished her hoofs. I rode her through bean patches playing hide and seek with the other pasture folks and rode her out to buy Orange Nehi sodas at the little shop near the pasture. I shared my apples and carrots and stories with her. I told her everything. I learned how to stand on her back when she walked and I often rode her bareback laying down across her back. We practiced barrel racing and pole racing, though she wasn't really the racing type, she would get excited and run as fast as she could, which wasn't fast at all. (In the bean patches, however, she was very very fast.) Those days were the best days.

Horses, even small ones, are powerful, yet they want to work with you. They have emotional memories. A horse that has been treated well will remember people favorably. A horse that has been treated roughly is a different story. You'll have to earn and keep their trust. Most horses are stubborn and they will test you and try to scare you. They can knock you down in an instant and win any fight, yet at heart, they want to work with you.

Yes, I've heard all the stories about girls and horses. Whatever.

For me, it was that time away from the day to day in town. It was getting out to the pasture and the smelly barn and slipping the bridle on and riding out to get an Orange NeHi soda. It was cantering through the pasture on my white horse, and those stupid runs through the bean patches. Mostly it was just lazing around the pasture knowing that everything was going to be okay.

the debate...justice and panda bears

Fox has been blogging about the death penalty, the execution of Saddam and the moral meaning of it all. It's sparked some debate on other blogs, too.

My story:
About 30 or so years ago, Melody Bolton came home from a morning of grocery shopping and surprised two burglars. They tied her up and one of them shot her in the back and left her for dead. Melody was a member of my extended family. I was a kid, and I remembered Melody as a tiny blond woman who had super cool hair and a big smile and who was really funny and sweet. Her murder changed everything for her husband and children, along with the rest of her family, her friends, and the people in the small community where she lived. I just remember the suddenness of her death, the hushed discussions and disbelief around the dinner table. I remember not believing it really happened for a long long time, expecting to see her at a family gathering.
The guy who shot her was caught after he bragged about her death to his girlfriend who turned him in. He was tried, convicted of first degree murder, sentenced to death and was eventually executed by the state of Texas.

I am on the side against the death penalty.

Justice is not equally administered and one wrong conviction for someone who is sentenced to death essentially makes the state a murderer. As a punishment, I think life in prison is harsh enough and prevents a fatal mistake. In jail, everyday you wake up to face your actions, you might work to pay society back, you might be able to become remorseful. The cost to society, in dollars, to execute someone is about 20 times higher than it is to keep them in prison for life.
When all is said and done, execution tries to be a type of revenge and revenge is never as sweet in reality. An execution will not bring someone back to life, heal a family or put a life back together. It is still up to each of us to forgive and move on.

Now, I'm going to go watch the Pandas.

Panda Cam

Watch the Pandas at the San Diego zoo eat bamboo and be really cute.

Superheroes amongst us

Today at the shelter, I asked R. if this will be a good year. R. is into numbers. License plates, dates, birthdays, they all have some meaning for him, usually, the numbers aren't so good.

R. is quiet. He doesn't say much to me, but I always say Hi and ask how he's doing. Sometimes he just looks at me, sometimes he says, "Hi" back, and sometimes he just walks on by. Still, after 3 years, a person can take some small comfort in a familiar face and voice, at least I do. I like to think that even when R. is having a bad day, he comes in on my shift because he can at least ignore someone he knows and sometimes I'll make him take a lunch or a brownie or an orange with him when he leaves. (The stories we tell ourselves...)

Lately, R. has been very quiet, more walking on by, less "Hi".
Still, I had to ask him about the new year numbers. I asked him if 2007 was a good number. R. looked at me for a long moment, then said he was going to buy a boat and head to Alaska. I told him that I'd heard Alaska was pristine, beautiful.
"Oh yes, it's beautiful," he said,
I told him it was good to go before all the ice melts, too. (R. is often concerned about the destruction of the planet, conspiracy theories and all that.)
He just said, "I know. I'm going to take the boat down the Bering Sea." Then, he smiled. A rare, smile. A big smile that lit up his whole face. The hard edges fell away as he thought about that boat and about Alaska and the pristine beautiful places he would see. 2007 might be a great year to buy that boat.

Rain poured as we closed up, so we brought out the roll of white plastic garbage bags to make ponchos for everyone and help them rainproof the worldly possessions they keep tucked into paper and canvas bags.

One of my friends, W., tucked his plastic bag under his bike helmet, letting the length of it fall across his back like a cape.
"You look like SuperMan!"
He laughed, and asked me to draw a big S on the back of the bag. I grabbed a red sharpie and did just that. He modeled it and we took his picture.

I took a moment to envision a world where the homeless are superheroes and captains of boats that sail the Bering Sea.

getting something new

Early morning, Dec.31, 2006, I picked up Kat to go for an 11 miler, it was cold, so we sat in the car with the heater blasting while we talked ourselves down to 10 miles, then 7. Then we drove around Austin until the sun came out a bit more and our world got warmer. When we finally struck out on the trail, it was after 7. A light fog floated just above the water, the sky was a dusky gray. We ran for about 2 miles, and that was that. We walked the rest of the trail. A good way to end a year, I think. Go out gracefully, doing what feels right.

I cleaned house for the rest of the day. Almost every room was cleaned top to bottom, freshened up, dusted and uncluttered. Closests and drawers were emptied, tidied, and purged in a ritual blast of year-end energy. This was something I planned to do at the end of every year, but I've been slacking in the 2000s. Not this year, this year I jolly well did it and when I walk through the rooms, they feel different, better, like they are waiting for new stuff.

Later, good friends and good food and talk about books and writing. As the year turned, I was outside looking at the stars, making some wishes and giving thanks for seeing another year.

I spent most of the first day of 07 in my pjs, working, catching up, writing, thinking about that boy I locked eyes with the day before. It was cold and I wanted a good run, but I kept putting it off, like the day would last forever or something.

Finally, around 5, I put on some layers, including a favorite long underwear top found in my cleaning blitz, and headed out to the trail near my house. It was cool and clear and the trail was nice and muddy. There were puddles to run through and jump over and friendly walkers who waved and wished me happy new year. I remembered why I needed this, and I didn't want to stop. What I thought was going to be 4 miles, turned into 5 and then 6 and I only stopped there because it was getting dark. For a short time in my teens, I had a horse and we'd ride through the woods. As I grew up, there were hikes and walks and then one crazy day I got on the back of a boy's motorcycle and decided that was my new favorite way to get out of town, until it wasn't anymore. Now, it's simpler, all I need are my shoes. I wish I'd discovered this running thing years ago.

I'm thankful for 2006. A big year, a full year, but aren't they all? I learned when to let go and when to hang on. I lost things I didn't need anymore: about 20 pounds, 2 or 3 sizes and some crazy ideas I had started believing. I found things I thought I had already but really didn't: confidence, independence, fun. We lost my grandmother, and Kayse, and found once again how important it is to not take life or people for granted. We miss them both and will for a long time, yet both of those ladies gave us so much that somehow it doesn't feel like they've gone. There have been family health scares and they all seem to be settled now. Sam is not going back to Iraq and Ace loves college. Much to be grateful for.

I'll miss Leo and Molly, two of the most loyal, loving creatures I've ever known, and I'll miss James Brown, Ann Richards, Altman, and Red Buttons, too.

As the first day of 07 ended, I felt happier and more grateful than I have in a very long time.

I wish the same for you.