Hello Seattle!

Chipper, which is not me at 6:45 am going to the airport. Hello. I have no new photos of anything exciting, but Photobooth always comes through. Well, depends on what your definition of "come through" is, but it provides imagery anyway. I am about to have a lot of new photos, though, because I am (procrastinating on) packing to go to Seattle for a few days. My niece Jenny is graduating from high school and I get to see it all go down. The graduation, I mean. So excited and so proud! It seems like yesterday I was playing with my Legos while Jenny sat in her little baby carseat because she was a...baby. There are perks to being only a few years older than your nieces and nephews, and one of them is that you can share toys when you're little. Bonus. Except I probably didn't want to share my Legos. Sorry, Jenny. I'll also be hitting up the honey and fruit and flower stands at Pike Place Market. And the coffee...Seattle really does know its stuff. I have been told to bring a hoodie, which is a foreign word in this 95 degree Texas heat. Other random thoughts for the week: - pancakes for dinner is almost as good as pancakes for breakfast. - not all laundromats are created equal. - don't let a hornet fly in your door because it's hard to figure out how to get it back out. Now please excuse me. I have a date with my caffeine destiny.

a happy little thing

Wowsers. This summer is going to be fun. Along with hopes and plans (knock on wood) that the EP will be done by August, I found out this week I'll be opening for Terri Hendrix at Threadgill's in Austin on August 16th! Mark that sucker in yo' calendar! Color me EXCITED!!! (Color me in the Albuquerque Sunport, too.)

Hello New Mexico!

Dallas airport: Bored of the guy next to me talking about rearranging his office while on his cell phone. I'm in New Mexico for the weekend catching up on some people and some things, as well as enjoying the sub-60 degree weather and the rainclouds swooping in over the valley. The difference between desert rain and Central Texas rain is that when it rains in Albuquerque, it actually breaks the heat...and it gets chilly. In Austin I am still astounded that after a good long rain that it's just as hot as it was before the storm. That's weird. I'll take pictures, I promise.

Airport. Music.

Sitting in the Austin airport again...same weird carpet color as always. I’m here 3 hours early, partly because I’ve been hearing airport horror stories (I guess it is a holiday, hm?) and partly because I got out of work early and am close to the airport. In all actuality the line was short and I have getting through security down to a science. By the time I am up to the front of the line my belt is off, my shoes are off, my jewelry is tucked away, my laptop is out of its bag, and my boarding pass is in hand. I suppose I look like a weirdo basically re-dressing myself in the middle of the airport once I am through, but after having the contents of my bags spewed out by a security “associate” a few times, I prefer to think ahead. Why do I love Austin? As I am putting my belt back on amidst the locals and the visitors, I hear music on the other side of the gift shop. Who do I see but a couple of Austin’s fine singer-songwriters on one of the airport’s stages. Ginger Leigh and Carolyn Wonderland were keeping us traveling savages calm with their tunes. Only in Austin, fer reals. On to holidays in New Mexico!

I (heart) Southwest Airlines

After my parents flew last week on an airline that shall remain nameless (except it perhaps maybe rhymes with "Unrequited Hairlines") and had a horrible experience going and coming (missing connections due to late planes, being ignored by customer service when the missed connection became a problem, waiting around a LOT, etc.)...I had some trepidations about flying this weekend. All went well going to Albuquerque, but when I got to the airport to fly back to Austin, I noticed that my plane was going to leave 30 minutes late. That would be cool except I knew I had only 25 minutes to catch my connection in Dallas. 25 minus 30 is -5, and I'm no Mathematics major, but I am pretty sure I can't get off a plane and find my new gate and board in -5 minutes. So, with a slightly heightened sense of panic, I approach the ticket counter and explain the situation. The Southwest representative was very nice, typed in her magic numbers, gave me a boarding pass for a new flight, told me to get to gate A7..."and don't get off the plane in Midland!" (I'm sure Midland is a very nice town but I had places to be...maybe when there is more time for leisure I'll get off the plane in Midland). So I get through security and get to gate A7 which is empty, and a couple of Southwest gate agents say, "Are you Jana?" I say yes. They say, "YAY! Get on the plane! And have fun in Austin!" Haha. So not only did I get a direct flight to Austin, but they held the plane for me. That's customer service. I'm back in Austin for a spell.

j.Po Thots: Songwriting Frequencies

Tuned in...or trying to be. Greetings from the Dallas airport. I have watched 2 flights depart to Albuquerque, but apparently am not cool enough to be on either of them...hence I wait. And blog. I've heard many theories and explanations of how one writes a song, and I think two things hinder any kind of concrete study: a) it's different for everyone (how cliche, but true) b) most of the time, songwriters don't know where the heck it comes from anyway. Well, I mean...there's the "formula song" made for radio that is polished and henpecked into perfection. That's an art unto itself and I don't take issue. I would like to try doing that sometime, though it might make me cry on the first thousand attempts. Then there's that...other thing. The muse? The subconscious? Luck? The other day I was doing some really repetitive tasks, assembling packets of paper. Large ones. I have the paper cuts to prove it. I'm thinking along, minding my own business, when this line pops into my head. It was a pretty cool line. Now, I've had this happen enough at this point to know I need to stop and write it down or Jott it to myself (a great service for leaving yourself voicemail notes and things -- it transcribes them for you and sends them to your email! Or you can listen like a normal voicemail. Or you can download thesound file online. Jott is golden...but I digress). So I grabbed a pencil and scrawled it and went along my merry way. That line, from where I'll never know, is currently sitting as the first line of my new song, which is a pretty big responsibility for a line. BUT WHERE DID IT COME FROM? Why did it hit me then? I always quote Mary Chapin Carpenter, who was quoting Bill Monroe when she said she kind of picks songs "out of the air." I always loved that analogy. I've adapted it to my own brain, and lately I've been trying to write more...but when the songs are out there and I am here...what does "write more" mean? I've decided I'm like a radio, and my writer's brain can learn to scan frequencies. Now, the more frequencies you can scan the better, so that means I need to be constantly exposing myself to other forms of art and stimuli of that nature...different genres, new writers, the whole shebang. But it's not just the purposeful scan that brings up those good first lines. It's kind of being in tune to the scan...at all times. When you're driving, when you're assembling large amounts of paper together, when you're taking a walk or writing an email. I do think that as a writer, I am learning to be more in tune with the scanning for a larger amount of time. Maybe one day I'll be adept at plucking those gems out of the air like Bill Monroe and MCC. Or perhaps I am just hearing voices, hehhehheh.

Airport Greetings

I'm typing this in the Dallas airport, sipping coffee from a fast food chain I refuse to admit to patronizing (hey, Seattle' s Best was closed) and admiring the knotty grey carpet around gate 8. Or gate A6. Whatever...this is airport 2 of 3 for the day. Good times. I enjoyed a lovely weekend home in New Mexico and now it's back to work with 4 gigs this week. When will I find time to unpack? Probably never. That's ok. I've always loved flying, even with all the hassle of boarding and middle seats and the decision of whether to ask for that cup of airplane coffee knowing full well it will result in a trip to either a nasty lavatory or a nasty airport bathroom. (Sorry, but it's true). Something about sitting in a hunk of metal with 130 other strangers all with the same purpose -- hurtling themselves toward somewhere else -- is nice. Give me the choice, however, and I will drive. Give me a week and I'll get to your house in a car with lots of gas station food wrappers in the back seat and a road map on the passenger's side floor. Yes, I could get there in 6 hours on a plane, but someone else does the driving for Delta. Too much is missed that way, even if the coffee is good.