Los Gordolobos

I discovered this gem in an old issue of The New Yorker. I was inspired and silenced by its beauty. I am thus compelled to share it here.

I realize that I have yet to really mention my relocation to the land of the Alamo besides the bits and pieces I've already divulged. I miss El Paso terribly, but know that this move is right for me.

So this goodbye stuff--I'm not really good at it. And the whirlwind that I got caught up in left me missing things before I even left. Firstly, my friends and family, secondly, the weather, thirdly, all the cool stuff happening, and fourthly, my creative projects that I wanted to base in EP. One project had been forcibly put on hiatus due to research dilemmas I cannot perform in my new locale. It involves accessing El Paso's newspapers on microfilm (preferably every print available); a collection that I have discovered to be nonexistent in San Antonio and Austin. One day though, one day. So goodbye to that for now.

It so happens that it's also time for students to wrap up their spring semesters on campuses nationwide. Just today, the law school held a "Fiesta Farewell" in honor of the 3Ls who are donning their graduation garb in the next month. There were free fajitas and margaritas to go around and everyone at the law school and library were invited. It was pleasant outside and the mood was as it always is with people who are just about to reach a new destination. The soon-to-be graduates were confident, smiling, nostalgic, and a took on an air of hard-obtained wisdom. And some of them had cocky smirks on their faces.

I couldn't help but feel like they were moving on just as I was finishing my transition, since I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. However, deeply considering how free a master's degree will be now that I work here (such a perk!), I wanted to grab the opportunity to earn an MBA. Another graduation ceremony may be lined up in the near-distant future for me, yet.

The air is oh-so cliche-edly rife with the winds of change. Not really anything revolutionary or like the whirlwind it was to get here--the situation has taken on more like a mild, kind of muggy breeze. I have to get used to things. And no matter what I tell myself, I have many more things to plan for. 

Hey there, internets. I've been quite absent on this thing for a while now. I thought that maybe I'd put aside some time to resume wherever I left off. I've made a big move because I landed a job in a different city. So, it's no longer the tagline "and other things that grow in the desert." Instead, I have to rethink something else. Perhaps, "and other things that grow in central Texas landscapes." But then I'd have to rename the blog because gordolobos don't grow over here... Or do they?

So, okay. Out of curiosity, I actually looked up what these plants were. Funny, I was under the impression that they looked like brown and yellow daisies that could be crushed and used like an ointment. Nope. I'm wrong. My findings via UTEP's Herb Safety website:

Gordolobo and related species have been used for centuries in Mexico and other Latin American countries, chiefly to expel phlegm (mucus), to treat bronchial asthma and coughs. Gordolobo may be added to other herbs that also have therapeutic properties against respiratory ailments, such as Eucalyptus, for example, but the effectiveness of such combinations is presently unknown. Gordolobo tea is also used for gastrointestinal complaints, due to its purportedly anti-inflammatory activity. Externally, the tea is applied as a poultice to reduce hemorrhoids.

Namesake

Your mother was a hamster...

Tomorrow's Tax Day. Have you done your taxes yet? 

Duh!

If you could be an expert in any one field, which one would you choose?

This is so cliche. Relationships. No, change my answer. Musicianship.

What television show do you never miss?

That's easy! The Soup.

Joel & Lou

Hi. It's been a week since I've graduated from college and I haven't written about it. I'm still more or less on cloud 9 about it. Kind of. I guess. I'll tell you later.

What I felt like talking about is kind of dumb, but I think it's a little funny. I find it interesting that baristas at Starbucks pretty much have to guess how to spell what name you give them when you order coffee. Like my name, Liana. Easy, I've always thought, but then again, it's been with me all my life. Whatever.

Anyway, I think I've had enough experiences with them getting my name wrong, but the past two visits really take the cake.

Take instance number one: It's right before I have to open the store for work, I want a nice cold green tea. I stop at Starbucks really quick. She makes conversation about the El Paso Times (she snuck a peak at the business cards in my wallet, she told me). She asks my name. Thirty seconds later, I get my tea with "LeighAnna." Pretty. Pretty long.

Then yesterday, as I continued my last-minute frenzy shopping, I decided to stop for a seasonal favorite of mine: their pumpkin spice latte (skim). So the girl asks my name and I repeated for her about three times. Two minutes later, I watch a male barista look at what I correctly guessed was my cup for a very long time. Indeed, it was as though he was thinking really hard about my cup of joe, getting a headache from the puzzle of, "LEAANANA."

I kid you not. I should start a blog with all the different ways people hear my name, or rather, spell my name.

Here's a little video that me and a couple of my classmates made. The words are from a poem by Juan Felipe Herrera called Senorita X. I think it came out quite well. Please to enjoy:

"Oh, but it's cold outside!" It's a fact of life that the economic climate is a bit chilly this holiday season. Is that affecting how you're doing your holiday shopping?
Sponsored by Best Buy.

No, not really, considering that I've never had much money for holiday shopping. It's more like holiday baking and/or holiday crocheting with me. So how is this holiday treating you, Vox? Or should I ask Best Buy?

I WANT TO WRITE ALL THESE IDEAS DOWN BEFORE I FORGET this unforgettable day -- a day spent in squalor watching the big screen, hearing the reel spinning, brightened 50-year-old celluloid flickering before our eyes, revealing the magic that will always be the movies. This year marks the first time in over 30 years that movies play at the historic Plaza theater (Trust me, the history is kind of drawled out and boring, though the theater itself, in all its art deco spectacle, is admittedly pretty fancy). Anyway, the however-formed Plaza Theater Film Festival Committee actually got permission to borrow/hoard original 35 mm prints of classics such as The Wizard of Oz, Casablanca, 2001: A Space Odyssey, King Kong, Giant, and nearly 60 others so they could be screened daily for 10 glorious days in August. For nearly two weeks I almost hoped I'd be fired from/quit my job so I could catch all of them. But alas, I need financial sustenance aka gas money so I could make it all the way to the Plaza Theater in the first place.

James Dean. What other name would silence a movie house? Which other movie idol is greater than he or more legendary? What's more, how could anyone turn down the chance to watch him on the big screen, the way audiences everywhere had first seen him play the role that immortalized him? I clutched my ticket eagerly as we waited in a line that stretched around the block.

I'd seen Rebel Without a Cause before, in my high school history class, as a way of showing us all perhaps some kind of archetype for the way we were (as teens). Many of my peers did not agree with its logic, nor did they think the movie was all that good. I held out, waiting for this film to give me some answers, since it was touted to be the first real film about what it was to be a teenager. I was affected, but at the same time freaked out at its unabashed and semi-crazed main characters. Now, I think I get it, though I am no longer a teenager. It's an old-fashioned movie that tried hard to depict the things inner-torment does to the trapped adolescent mind. "Eagerness" could be a key word, as could "restless." I could describe my teen years this way, though separated from Rebel by half a century. I didn't know at the time how to describe what it was. But neither did Jim Stark or Plato or Judy. Also, given the context of 50s era America and the rise of fear that gave way to the 60s, it is not surprising that this movie was made. Rather, it was just waiting for someone to play the role genuinely. It is a shame that there is no one to do this in the cinema of today as James had done in the early 50s. We do get teen movies, no doubt. Several examples include Juno, whimsy smash hit/strange dialogue. Thumbsucker, underdog and underseen performances. Clueless, pleasant updated adaptation. American Pie, High School Musical, spare me. Carrie, The Exorcist, heavy on the metaphor and bloody terror. Thirteen, though I do truly hate that movie, makes for a pretty close race in the quest to uncover the secrets of adolescence, but in the end, Rebel Without a Cause is what these movies cannot be. Sincere.

Unfortunately, I can't figure out how to fit all of these other ideas in without sounding pedantic. These topics are perhaps best left for the blog whenever I reprise the subject.  

• The Father/Son relationship
• Teenagers' understanding of life
• James Dean and the Beats movement
• My James Dean movie I bought on Amazon

If there is one thing I am certain of gaining from this experience, it's the hope that they'll do this all again next year.