polkadots and moonbeams

life is junior high.

2009-03-10T16:43:00.000-07:00

when i was 13 years old, there was a boy that lived directly next door. he was a year older than me. a goof. the boy who would catch frogs at the end of the street in the storm drain and then try to sell them. he wore thick, black (red?)-framed glasses. he was in even in a local commercial for some bank. his bedroom overlooked our driveway, and some nights he would try to play guitar for me and i would sit in the driveway below and listen. he had a basketball goal in his driveway, and when i would come home from school, wearing my st. catherine "class of 97" shirt and gym shorts, we would just shoot baskets over and over and over until it got dark. he would start water balloon fights that lasted for days. we laughed a lot. and we would talk. we talked about everything. we would have serious conversations about religion and life. as "serious" and "knowledgeable" as you can be at a wise 13 years of age. i didn't think we were anything but really good friends. Two people who happened to be in the same place at the same time who had a lot of fun together. Maybe he was my first "crush," but i was too young to realize that. We were good friends.

one day, i realized there was a party going on next door. i knew it was his 14th birthday. he was having a birthday party and i realized that i wasn't invited. i was so hurt, i cried.

tom brokaw gave the commencement address when i graduated from college. after his obligatory mentioning of "the greatest generation," he said some of the most wise words i've heard. He said "Life is not college. Life is not high school. Life is junior high."

[from his 2009 address to the graduates of William and Mary], he continued, "You'll be astonished by how much of the rest of your life will be consumed by the same petty jealousies you encountered in adolescence, the same irrational juvenile behavior, the cliques, the dumb jokes and the hurt feelings.

And to the women of the class of 2009, be forewarned:
These boys sitting beside you who are about to become men will take their inner boy-and their baseball caps and their sports teams-with them and they will never completely understand you."

we'll always have paris.

2006-04-26T00:17:00.000-07:00

i went to barnes and nobles when it reopened for the first time after the storm a few weeks ago. mmm. it was nice to have barnes and nobles back. no older gentlemen approaching me at the new fiction table. it just felt good.

i picked up this book from the new paperback fiction table because i was struck by the name. we'll always have paris. obviously i thought about brett and the promise i made to him that i would one day see paris with him. that was our phrase, borrowed from the movie, casablanca (which i'm ashamed to say i've never seen). i bought the book. it's by an australian writer who dropped everything to move to paris to follow a woman that he had fallen for. (romantic, much?) and then wrote about it.

he writes like i write. very stream of consciencness. he'll start a chapter by telling me about a move to a new apartment in paris. and in the next 10 to 15 pages will talk about the buildings, the street, the cafes in the arrondisment - who once walked there, who once ate there, who once passed out there. the writers, the artists, the love affairs, the vices. along the way, he takes you back to the paris of the 20s and 30s.

i've never been to paris, but if it is ANYthing like this book describes, i know i'm going to be a sponge when i go.

i'm pretty sure i could never pick up and move to paris. (not like i could pickup and live in england, anyway.) i don't think i could get completely used to the lifestyle, the people, or the politics. the culture, yes.

i realized though that the reason i am absorbed by this book is because i do live in this paris that he describes. kinda.

saturday night, after the french quarter fest, we wandered around the quarter looking for a place to sit and watch the election results come in.

(honestly. i don't think you could find that anywhere else. half a city watching the news in bars. i couldn't make that up if i tried. we live in a city where we live below sea level, we eat crawfish, and we treat a mayoral race like a sporting event.)

we duck into this bar called "sidebar" (cute, right?) tiny place. we didn't stay because there was no place to sit down. but on the walls there were old pictures, the lighting was subdued, people were talking to the people at the next table (despite political convictions). there was a side alley that looked like the one vangogh had painted in his "cafe terrance at arles" we walked up to bourbon street, but that wasn't where we wanted to be. we walked back to a few dimly lit, old school, new orleans niches. i was reminded of the bar thats in pirate's alley. right next to st. louis cathedral and this great used bookstore called "the faulkner house" (appropriately named - william faulkner actually lived there. they have a vintage absinthe advertisment with vangogh's self-portrait on it (ironically, the selfportrait done AFTER he cut off his ear. be careful with the green fairy, vince)

an article right after katrina in the weekly standard mentioned this very nook in a litany of places - some of which we discovered and talked about that night... "

"Or if you've ever downed Pimm's cups and oyster Po' Boys at Napoleon House on Chartres, one of the most hospitable places on the planet to kill an evening. Or if you've ever pulled an all-nighter in Pirate's Alley off Jackson Square, with fantasists in buccaneer shirts clanking their broadswords after dipping too deeply into the bourbon."

john baxter has his paris. i have my new orleans.

gary.

2006-03-21T19:37:00.000-08:00

we have our own personal homeless man at 501 frenchmen st. a few weeks ago, on a monday, we noticed that there was a grungy mattress wedged in the window alcove on the corner of the building. hmm. we didn't think too much of it until we came back from lunch that day and found this guy sitting on it.

i named the guy gary. he looks like he could've been a gary in his previous-hopefully-sheltered-3-piece-suit life.

not only did gary have the typical "i'm a bum on the street" look, he had turned around to reveal this bald, raw, bleeding spot on the back of his head. it looked as if something had literally just taken a chunk out of his scalp. it was NOT pretty. he seemed out of it then, and by the grace of God, there happened to be a wonderful NOPDer walking the street when we had to walk OVER gary to get through our door. with him, we asked gary if he was ok or if he wanted us to look at the giant hole in the back of his head or get him to a hospital or SOMEthing. he didn't, and the policeman gently told him he just coulnd't stay there. he picked up his extra coat and walked away.

well, about 3 weeks later, gary is back. now he has a couch, 2 extra coats, a pair of women's jeans, and he STILL has a giant hole in the back of his head.

i don't get it, it's like he has defied all laws of biology - it's still oozing, but it hasn't spread. sure, it's GOT to be infected, but how has it not spread? how can he still be walking around with a giant chunk taken out of his scalp? it doesn't look like a gunshot or a like he was hit. it almost looks like it was the result of an EXTREMELY angry hairsylist because his hair is wild except in the area of the aforementioned chunk. gary, charity "hospital" is open in lord and taylor; go there or let me practice first-aid on you.

so his "home" - ie his couch - is now right outside of my window in my cubbyhole of an office. i hear him heckling people. i actually started to worry that he would catch me looking through my window at his missing scalp and come flying through the window at me. it's not like he's worried about being cut wiht shattering glass - just look at the back of his head.

robyn, of course, felt it was her duty to call the police on this guy. she felt personally threatened. so we watched through the window as not one, not two, but FOUR policemen came to the rescue. it's good to know that we've got some quick and numerous first-responders back in the area. it made me feel safer on a block where there was a fatal shooting last weekend.

gary was encouraged to leave once again, and the next day someone hauled his couch away. i hope he, at the very least, got some medical professional to look at his head. i haven't seen him since. it's a hell of a time to be homeless in this city. if you see gary, let me know.

2006-02-15T21:52:00.000-08:00

i've officially been working in my office for 4 months. hard to believe. you know i come home with tons of stories. life stories, disease stories, katrina stories. i like listening. and doing that sympathetic touch on the arm that says, 'yeah, im right there with you.' in the time, i've managed to pick out some of my favorite patients. i really like considering them "my" patients - as if i'm the one treating them. they are the ones that recognize my voice on the phone or will ask for me or the ones that can say their first name and i know EXACTLY who it is.

today, one of my patients called. it was weird because i had talked about him at dinner last night - he was a bartender at the restaurant we went to, so i looked for him. obviously, i mentioned this to him on the phone. i could instantly tell he was very out of it. i made an appointment for him for the afternoon. now, he had started coming in only 3 weeks ago, and in those three weeks, we had seen him maybe 5 times. robyn pulled me aside one of the times and says "he's telling him he's got HIV" jeez. what news. he had been put on a drug regimen for the HIV, but he was also losing weight very very quickly.

HIV and AIDS are diseases that are "trendy" - everyone seems to want to support finding a cure/vaccine. patients get a lot of support. and with all of the current drug regimens for HIV/AIDS, people aren't FRIGHTENED of the disease. up until about 10 years ago, the treatment consisted of the AZT cocktail, and patients were taking a bunch of pills a bunch of times a day (and the side effects weren't very tolerable either). now, they are down to 4 pills a day on average. the time it takes for the virus to become resistant to the meds has been extended.

i think it's forgotten that there are more dangerous epidemics out there (malaria kills the most people every year - a disease spread by mosquitoes - damn buggers). but until you see someone deteriorate the way this patient did in THREE WEEKS, you can't understand how scary this disease really is.

so the patient came in. kc sent him for a chest xray. by the time i was ready to leave for the day, the radiologist called us to tell us that he didn't even know how to interpret the xrays. basically, he need to be admitted to the hospital ASAP. i had to call kc at home, he wanted to let him know, and he even met him at touro's ER. (reason number 472 why i love kc and want to be him when i grow up)

i can't get it out of my head.

2006-02-13T10:45:00.000-08:00

my usual route to work takes me down airline drive to the interstate. i was stopped at one of the traffic lights that FINALLY started working, and there were four cars lined up waiting to go. i'm sitting in my car singing along to jessica molaskey on martini 106.1 ("how come you aint got me?" - one of those songs that i just wait all day to hear because i love it). i look at the other cars (and i'm sure they were judging me because i was singing by myself). the other drivers must have been on their way to work as well. however, they did NOT look as happy as i was to be singing along to a great song. maybe they hadn't had their coffe yet. i'm not sure.

SO. my leftbrain starts thinking. we live in a city without a strong mass transit system. (i love the streetcar, but it's not going to get me to work in the morning) and not many people are concerned with carpooling, as evident by the the four cars i saw this morning with one or two people in them. obviously, you're going to shout "what about the environment??" now for a second, i'm going to ignore all the environmental issues (oil prices, ozone layer, global warming, yada yada yada). i'm guessing the average commute is about 20-30 minutes. i find that i do some good thinking during that time. i have my cup of coffee - which i've only spilled on myself 4 times in the 4 months i've been working, thank ya very much. i started wondering whether we need that time to ourselves in the morning. time to wake up. time to think. if i was going to go back to psychology research, i would wonder if that morning commute - either by yourself or with a carpool - affects your social skills. do people who carpool - aka forced to socialize at the early hour - have an easier or hard time dealing with people all day? does that fact that they can't chose their own radio station AND deal with traffic AND deal with the other people in the car make those precious 30 minutes a pain in the ass and therefore sets the tone for the day? do the people who get to casually enjoy the ride arrive at work with a brighter disposition - maybe because of the simple fact that could sing or laugh or spill coffee on themselves without judgement from other early morning commuters? if someone knows if this study has been done, let me know; i'm curious now.

raaaaaandom, i know. maybe no one but me enjoys that drive in the morning.

and for the love of all that is good and holy, would someone PLEASE fix the bubbling crater in the middle of esplanade ave that has been there at least for the last 3 months now. it drives me crazy.

my first half-marathon

2006-02-08T02:36:00.000-08:00

an essay.

about 2 months ago, my mother had the brilliant idea.

"hey, we should do the mardi gras half-marathon!"

sure mom, have you seen me try and run? i'm the dancer, remember?

"no no we'll just walk it. we have four hours to finish it"

so i let her think we were definitely doing it, but i kinda figured the idea would die. i don't run. everyone knows this. i don't have the attention span for it - i get bored with the idea of traveling a great distance by foot for no other reason but to be traveling. i'm all about supporting OTHER people, however. i drove 7 hours to watch megan run the boilermaker in upstate new york. i got up early to watch em cross the finish line in providence. (both times, i was part of making EXCELLENT signs of encouragement)

but we got closer and closer to the "race" and i realized my mom was serious about this. then the day came when she REGISTERED the two of us online.

i think to myself "oh shit, i'm ACTUALLY going to have to do this."

the week before the big day, i think, hmm i should probably hop on the treadmill and TRY to go for more than 2 miles. you know, just to see how it feels. i did it, but it still wasn't NEAR the 13.1 miles i was going to have to do on the following sunday. but i guess that would serve as my "training."

we got up early to pick up our race packets at the race "expo" on saturday morning. t-minus 24 hours till the starting line. i thought this expo would be simple - we go. we pick up our race numbers. maybe we get a free tshirt. we leave to eat tons of carbs to prepare our bodies for the torture it's going to endure the next day.

i was wrong. this expo was the most serious thing ive ever seen. i can tell you. these "serious" runners are intense. you would NOT believe the merchandise you can purchase before each of these races. shorts, sports bras, special cool-max shirts, gloves, ear warmers, socks, shoes (seriously, if you don't have running shoes by this point in the game, you need to ask yourself if you should be running a marathon the next day). water bottle holders, ipod holders, key holders. creams, energy gels, nipple guards.

i swear to you. nipple guards. they protect you from nipple abrasion, apparently.

(hold the phone, i say to myself, i did NOT sign up for nipple abrasion. what the heck am i getting myself into?)

i survived the expo, i got my outfit and music together, and i ate lots of carbs. i was as ready as i was going to be to survive 13 miles.

we were downtown by 6:30 on sunday morning. it was dark when we left, but the sun was just starting to come up over the new orleans skyline by the time we picked up krentel and got to the superdome. there were 3,000 people there. a lot from out-of-town, a lot from the area, a lot of serious runners, a lot of people in costume. (that's what i like to see! my kind of people) we all lined up and listened to the national anthem. at 7am, we made our way across the starting line.

no turning back now.

we ran/walk down poydras to decatur, took a left on decatur. we passed a guy that was running backwards. he handed out cards saying three things: 1. it was his birthday. 2. he collected pins, but lost most of them in house in the lower ninth ward. and 3. he was running the whole thing backwards. around the same time, we started talking to a young woman named allison who was from DC. she said her friends were at the cafe du monde with a cowbell, and that we'd have to look out for them. they were our first cheerleaders, so even if it was only like 1.5 miles into it, it felt good to be cheered on.

we got to esplanade ave and started running/walking towards city park. people kept asking us "hey, yall are doing the marathon! good for you." and we kept correcting them saying "oooooh no we are NOT that serious - we're just doing the half" this happened four or five times before someone says, "well you're wearing the marathon shirt, not the half marathon" well, at the "expo" someone messed up and gave us the wrong free tshirt. basically, we got a 90 dollar tshirt for 45. good deal.

got to city park and started making our way around it to mirabeau. this was where the race course took us to some pretty bad parts of the city. where the water line was taller than me, and houses still stand with mold growing up the walls. but here, we were running/walking between a group dressed as MREs and a group dressed as willy wonka, a hershey kiss, and a oompa loompa. i felt like i shouldve worn my mardi gras boa.

at this point, we ended up backtracking some of the way back around city park. it was mentally challenging. this was when i got bored, but we were past half-way so i had this newfound energy to keep going. i said some prayers, put on some more music, and kept on truckin'

and then i hit city park avenue. they guided me to moss street where they promised "water, bathrooms, and ice-cold beer" it was as if the people on moss street were waiting for a mardi gras parade. there were people sitting on the grass by the bayou on one side, and people on the house porches on the other side of the street. they had made a giant sign saying "turn for the worse" and as promised, were handing out beer and mimosas for those who wanted them. (i knew i had about 4 miles to go - so i passed). they had mardi gras music. they were cheering me on as if i was FIRST in the race.

THAT was new orleans, my dear ones, right there on moss street. THAT was what we are all about. i might as well have been second lining in a mardi gras parade.

by that point, i was so far ahead of my mom, and i honestly thought krentel had quit by this point, and was enjoying a cafe au lait somewhere uptown. with 3 miles to go, i slowed down along banks street so that i made sure i finished with my mom. after all, she was the one who forced me into this. around mile 12, we met the biggest and most enthusiastic group of key-clubbers - high schoolers that were probably all displaced during the storm, but are back now trying to regain some kind of normal activity, like doing a keyclub service project at the crack of dawn. (sure, that sounds familiar)

the 12 mile mark was at the end of banks street and it was right underneath a street light where someone had painted up to the water mark to make it look like water. cute in a sick kind of way.

the last 1.1 miles were tough physically - like the city park miles were tough mentally. my feet hurt by this point. but the superdome was in our sight. before we knew it, we were feet from the finish line and we had just ran/walked 13.1 miles through the city of new orleans. we crossed the finish line at 3 hours and 10 minutes. (3 hours and 7 minutes was our OFFICIAL time) mom started crying which only made me cry. it was poignant.

when i walked passed the finishing area (with bottles and bottles of gatorade), i saw chris rose from the times pic (which is like seing a celebrity for me). we met debbie who told us john was indeed still in the race, just waaaaay behind us. and there were about 500 people still lining the ramps of the superdome, waiting to cheer people on as they came across the finish line. a lot of positive energy to go along with all those endorphins just surging through my body.

we did it. all 13.1 miles. and it was glorious. i can't wait to do it again. once i get over my soreness. they don't make enough ib profen, i tell you.

crescent city classic, here we come!

the end. (wow, this could be as long as the marathon itself.)

i love the quarter in the morning.

2006-02-03T07:48:00.000-08:00

despite running late this morning, i decided to stop at the cc's in the quarter on my way to work. it's at the corner of royal st and st. philip st., in the same block as the cornstalk hotel. i know they are only open 5 hours a day during the week, just long enough to caffinate all the quarter crazies in the morning. i've gone maybe once a week since they have been open, and i'll tell you - they have the HAPPIEST people working there. the first time i went, i got a cafe au lait, and they all started chanting "au laaaait, au lait, au lait, au laaaaait" - i couldn't stop laughing.

well today, my favorite baristas were celebrating carnivale with beads and hats and balloons. cc's was PACKED with people at 9am. every table was filled with chattering people. and upbeat chattering people - which is always wonderful to see. i bumped into a guy wearing this black velour cape and a bone necklace. and there i was with my scrubs and plum st snoball tshirt and green converse. we gave each other this look up and down and wished each other a good day. while waiting for my coffee, i look over to the corner and lo and behold, right there in cc's, a brass band was setting up. no lie. and the band members were diverse - 2 of them looked like the just hopped over from the CBD to play for a little while and the rest of them looked like they should've been part of the second line parade and do this for a living. how cool. i have no idea where they came from or who they were or how long they were going to play. believe you me, if i didn't have an office to take care of, i would've found a piece of wall to lean against in cc's to listen.

i tell ya. only in new orleans would you walk into your favorite coffeeshop on a friday morning and find a brass band. once again, my coffee addiction pays off.

and look at me - i just wrote all of that while on hold with blue cross/blue shield. i love my job.

happy friday!

2005

2005-12-31T12:29:00.000-08:00

whilst one could argue that we've had our fair share of hell in 2005 here in new orleans, on this new years eve, i'd like to take a moment to remember some of the great things that have happened in 2005:

1. mardi gras - complete with surviving a very scary 6am cab ride. united cab's phone number will forever be emblazonned (did i just make up that word? i think i did) in my mind.

2. mcat class. specifically, spending st. patrick's day night in class with irish coffee. i don't think caley and i have ever been that giddy. only slightly more giddy that how we were every monday, wednesday, and friday at 10:30am in dr. toth's class.

3. making the committment to go to louies every thursday night. thursday is the new friday, after all.

4. tap class. "hmm catherine, you have the least experience out of anyone in this class. and since this is ADVANCED tap, you might want to think about dropping it" riiiiight, saying that to me only makes me want to stick it out. i may have no talent, but i sure had a hell of a good time making noise.

5. after four years in providence, finding the russian sub museum... and not getting out of the car to touch it.

6. getting a job catching mosquitoes. it will be very hard to top that summer job. i believe i still have my tyvek suit and "backyard safari bug vacuum" in the back of my car.

7. spending the night at beau rivage - learning craps, being classy, and making friends with the tommy bahama himself. a very swingin' night :)

8. being on a first name basis with the waiter at wintzell's oyster house in fairhope, alabama during "the great evacuation" oysters and beer for everyone!

9. getting the chance to know, love, and learn from two of the best doctors in new orleans. and since i've started wearing scrubs and converse sneakers to work, i will NEVER again have to wear real clothes to work. just scrubs and converse sneakers. in every color. that's fantastic. anyone need a shot?

10. weddings weddings weddings. it's beautiful to see couples who understand the committment they are making to each other and the SACRAMENT in which they are partaking.

11. old friends, new friends, and those people that have been right in front of me for a while now.

12. going through hell and still coming out on the other side. (much like dante, no?) being able to say that i was THERE the night rock n bowl, pat o's, GALATOIRE'S all opened. no one else in the country has the opportunity to say that.

wishing you love, inspiration, happiness, jazz, and a stronger levee system in 2006. cheers.

"... and the lights will guide you home"

maurepas st.

2005-12-11T15:48:00.000-08:00

much to my father's chagrin, i've pretty much decided that i want to invest in a house here in new orleans. it's not as daunting as it seems, and the more i thought about it, the more the idea of renting an apartment seemed absurd. i might as well spend the money that i would be putting towards rent and utilities into a real investment. in the broader scheme of things, it would be the next "grown up" thing i do. it will be firmly planting my feet here for a while and showing that i do have faith in my city. you can't stop me. mwahaha.

so i've begun to look at houses. really just for fun now, because CLEARLY i'm not entirely ready to put down a payment. since one of my goals in life is to live in walking-distance from jazz fest, i obviously looked in mid-city first. yesterday, i drove around with my mom because we lived in a house right by the racetrack when i was born. (ok, so TECHNICALLY i guess i have already lived in walking-distance of jazz fest, but i'm not counting that.) our findings only showed once again that NOW is the time to invest in real estate here. there are tons of houses on the market - both damaged and undamaged. the neighborhoods around esplanade ave, moss st, city park ave are so colorful and full of character. camelback houses, creole cottages, shotgun houses that have been around for 100 years. there was a lot of activity - people putting up christmas decorations, talking to other neighbors, sitting on their stoops and porches enjoying a beer at 2pm on a cold, overcast saturday afternoon. i passed by the same guy more than once (not on purpose) and everytime he just waved and smiled. he must have been on his 4th beer and he must have known i was interested in the neighborhood. or maybe he was just SUPER friendly. i liked him anyway.

the point of my story is that i fell in love. i found this 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom raised shotgun house. 2 blocks away from the fairgrounds on maurepas st. close enough for me. i parked the car and went bounding up the front stairs to get a look through the front door while my mom took down the number. it was empty, but i could see a living room, a kitchen and down the hallway into one of the bedrooms. there was an island in the kitchen - perfect for entertaining because we know all good parties end up in the kitchen :) - and one of those hanging metal pan holders. (hi, another dream of mine). i got back in the car and called the real estate agent. of course, i have no idea what questions to ask so my mom is prompting me. i really must have shown my "greenness." the agent was nice and told me that the property had been under contract for a very long time, but she didn't forsee it falling through. she told me that the two bedrooms were carpeted, the bathroom was tile, and the rest of the rooms had pine flooring. 12 foot ceilings. a side yard and a backyard with 2 patios. off-street parking for two cars. no flooding.

oh sweet unrequited love, you taunt me so.

but dont' think i won't continue to call the agent to check to see if the transaction ACTUALLY goes through because i really loved the house. i spent last night with an abita restoration ale in one hand and my computer on my lap while i looked up decorating ideas on realsimple.com and southernliving.com. i want to have a bathroom and paint it BRIGHT blue. like, the brightest jesuit-blue-jay, beau-rivage-pool-awning, type of royal blue. i want wall space to hang the black-and-white new orleans photos and my vintage london prints. i want to be able to hang kaylan's red chili pepper lights in the kitchen like she had in her kitchen uptown. i want refrigerator magnets! i want more bookshelves! i want to make my own artwork. yeah, it has been fun dreamin.

my dad is just going to have to get over it. i'm here to stay. now i just have to get into med school and i'll be set.

2005-12-06T23:10:00.000-08:00

i read chris rose's article tonight when i fiiiiiiinally got home from work. you go into reading his articles thinking that he's going to have something witty and insightful to say - with a few quotables. instead, this article literally took my breath away. and i cried for maybe the 3rd time since the storm. the title of the article was "katrina: the storm that keeps on killing." in it, he talks about the next threat to the city, and what might be the next stage of the grieving process for some, unfortunately: suicide.

in my daily exploration of the nola.com blogs, i saw that the article generated a lot of buzz - people who were speechless like me, people who were angry, people who were disappointed that rose would use his space to write something so grave. suicide is scary to me. not because i'm afraid of death, but because it's scary that someone can have no hope. there is always hope. sure right now, it doesn't seem like it. nothing is getting DONE. politicians are arguing. wasting time while people STILL sit without electricity or gas or basic services. trash still sits on the neutral ground. refrigerators still sit on front lawns. neighbors have left. favorite places still remain closed. and of course, very very few things are opened past 10pm. my dad told me definitively that antoine's was NOT going to be open for christmas eve dinner, and that was when i felt like i really lost something. crazy i know. it's just dinner, right? "it's time to make new traditions!" i can hear you say. this way, we'll be able to leave for florida earlier and not have to drive all day on christmas day. (dont' get me started on my feelings about being away for christmas) but still. we've been going to antoine's for as long as i can remember. we sit at the same table every year - between the taylors and the mannings. in the same room with the big christmas tree that always has TONS of silver tinsel. i don't ask much for christmas (i got my snow last year, so it wasn't included in this year's letter to santa), but to have one of our traditions remain when everything else has changed, that would have been nice. so this christmas - no antoine's and no st. patrick's. because of katrina and because of my dad's deeprooted desire to get out of the city now more than ever. that makes me sad.

sure, it might be DIFFICULT to have hope. but if you don't have hope, what do you really have? i think about that guy in lakeview who lost everything, but bought a generator to hookup his christmas lights. talk about a beacon of light.

i don't think you can explain it to someone "on the outside." i just got back from a weekend in providence - seeing the wonderful people who put up with me and my randomness, and consequently, i guess the people who know me best. and, inevitably, when asked, "how is everything down there?" i think about the GOOD stuff like when rock n bowl and pat o's opened, or the galatoire's block party, or how all the artists are back in jackson square. while that still doesn't convey the sadness that is still in the air, at least it shows that there is hope for us. dr. czech was close to understanding. i went to the czechs' house on saturday afternoon - i had babysat for them for 2 years: 2 beautiful and smart kids, aged 4 and 5. i had dr. czech for chem lab sophomore year, and while chem lab was NOT my thing, we hit it off because of a common love: new orleans. (when i graduated, i gave them a bottle of wine and the river road cookbook.) dr. czech was good about asking tough questions like how it REALLY is down here and how i am REALLY doing. he and his wife seemed to "get it." i promised them that jazz fest was definitely still happening in 2006.

happy thanksgiving

2005-11-27T23:57:00.000-08:00

things i'm thankful for: 3...2...1

1. the ability to wake up to my alarm clock after only hitting the snooze button twice. really. it's a new thing for me. ask my roommates. jules could actually call out my name when my alarm was going off and not wake up herself. so now, i'm thankful that i can get up on time for things like the macy's thanksgiving day parade and work.

2. long distance friends. it's kinda cool talking to japan, st. louis, seattle, china, new york, providence, boston, ireland, and dc. and in those terribly lonely moments here, someone special always manages to say the right thing - whether they realize it or not. i'm incredibly blessed.

3. short distance friends. when no one else seems to "get it" i know that i'm not completely alone in my sentiments towards this place i call home.

4. finding the charger to my mp3 player. it ran out of juice back in july, so i haven't gotten to listen to it since then. all the same music from july was on there of course. you know how hearing a song will bring you back to a past time? the first song i heard was "foggy day in london town" hmm. classic. this brings me to...

5. the british home office. they're in charge of handing out the work permits to us foreigners. thank goodness they want to take care of their own citizens first, or else i'd be there drinking a whole lot of london pride and beefeaters at the red lion pub in crown's passage or the leather bottle in cobham - instead of here. are you hearing sarcasm? there's no sarcasm intended. (they haven't heard the last from me; by the time i apply for a work permit next, hopefully i'll have enough "relevant experience" for them. all in good time, my friends, all in good time.) y'all know how much i love my city. i missed new orleans for the last 4 years in providence. but now i can be part of the rebuilding, with people who love new orleans just as much. it's like being part of an edurance test. like someone said "i DARE you to stay and try to bring that city back." with the rest of america being ignorant and taking newstories like the one 60 minutes did as truth (oh because we ALL know how reliable the national media is), it might as well be a dare. well, america, you know how much i love a dare. so i'm thankful for that.

6. my green converse sneakers. no explanation needed.

7. our 10 inches of water and the remaining water mark on all of our surviving furniture. it could've been a hell of a lot worse. and once you lived without a kitchen or furniture and in the middle of sheetrock dust, you can pretty much live through anything.

8. diet coke. again, no explanation needed.

9. chris rose and spud mcconnell. their words are a lot better than mine, and its safe to say that reading chris rose online and hearing spud on the radio kept me sane during our stint in fairhope.

10. family. there really is no way to escape them, so i'm very thankful i enjoy their company.

11. faith. you can see the good Lord breathing life into this city every day. it's a wonderful gift being able to see that and put trust in a force greater than you. thankfully, faith leads to hope. and hope is what gives me the energy to keep myself occupied, and not thinking about things that get me down. crap, if i DIDN'T have my faith, i would've cleared out a long time ago and God knows where i'd be now. i know that today the first mass was celebrated at st. dominic church in lakeview since katrina. it was on the news briefly. the people looked peaceful being there. most have just lost everything and there they were. as my mother has always told me, there are 2 constants in life - God and family. when life's changing every day, it's good to have something constant.

Lord,
grant me the serenity to accept the things i cannot change
the courage to change the things i can
and the wisdom to know the difference.

second-lining.

2005-11-13T13:19:00.000-08:00

"... and i'm jealous of your new orleans shenanigans." my friend zack told me midway through my weekend of fun. this has been such an incredible weekend. i really just want to remember everything about it. good times, good company, good food, good drinks. things clicked all the way around. very very much needed. again, i couldn't imagine being anywhere else but here.

thursday (aka the new friday) was one of those days that i just want to remember every detail. in new orleans these days, no one has a concept of time. hours, days, weeks just pass by. it's hard to think about a month from now or a year from now because no one knows what life and our surroundings are going to be like by then. it brings the cliche "take one day at a time" to a whole new level. since we're not going by "real world time" here, we have future events to keep us moving through our days and weeks. knowing that mardi gras is happening will get us to february 27th. knowing that christmas is happening will get us to december 25th. well knowing that rock n bowl and pat o's were opening on thursday, got me to thursday. it was something to look forward to, something to focus on. i was giddy at work as if i had a date. i definitely didn't, but i didn't feel like i was alone because i was with a good number of people who just wanted to see another familiar surrounding open up again. after a fabulous dinner at chez chuck, the group of us headed to the corner of tulane ave and carrollton for the opening of the midcity rock 'n' bowl along with half of new orleans. a place we've all grown up with. bowling birthday parties. bowling and kareoke for our 8th grade party. tuesday swing nights in high school with joey. the mixed nuts every time i came home from providence. last year for christmas, santa brought me a rock n bowl shirt. i was lucky enough to be with a group of people who felt the same way about such a classic place and could be giddy with me, could dance, bowl, second-line, as if there had never been a storm that changed our lives. i was also pretty lucky that they love pat o's as much as i do, so despite having work in the morning and the 2am curfew, we felt it was appropriate to head to the quarter - driving through a still, silent, and dark mid-city. carpe noctum. it was the other end of the spectrum in the quarter - no one was out, everything was clean. i swear, i've never seen the quarter so clean. we walked down th emiddle of the street without having to dodge trash or people. we had our one drink at pat o's to be able to say we did the night they reopened. i don't think any of us actually had a hurricane though. we took postcards and matchbooks since they weren't selling the souvenir hurricane glasses. jill and i talked to one of the managers - sid - who told us about eddy, the guy that "played the tray" at the piano bar. i had only been to the piano bar once - when joe came in from ft polk before he left for iraq - and i got to meet eddy. eddy was about to turn 94 and had been playing that tray at pat o's for 67 years. since the storm, no one has been able to find eddy. i'm still saying my prayers that they find him or at least find out what happen to him. but it's one of the many stories that i don't think we'll ever really know - the events from that blur in the days after the storm when the lucky ones were glued to the tv trying to find out what happened to our city. nevertheless, pat o's was open with people had stories to share.

i think all of us could have stayed out all night. we tried to go to cafe du monde and morning call. we only went home when there was nothing left open

yesterday we had a wedding double header. both were beautiful weddings. both are beautiful couples. it's a true testament to the sacrament to see these couples who have thrown together a wedding since the storm. they realize what's important. at courtney's wedding, i ended up running into people i hadn't seen since grammar school. there were a lot of "wow, what the heck are you up to these days?" exchanged. we left that wedding reception to come home, see the end of the LSU game, change clothes, and head uptown for becky's wedding. for the record, fr. mcgin can do a mass with the rite of marriage in less than 30 minutes. it was impressive. when joey jokingly told me earlier in the day not to be late, he really wasn't joking. i guess that only meant more dancing at the reception! and by God, there was dancing. i ended up at the carousel bar in the monteleone with most of the ellises, and about 4 and a half revolutions later, we moved the party back to metairie, where there is no curfew.

it's almost november 15th, and at providence college, it's JRW sunday. junior year, in 204, we made a compromise that stated we could start listening to n'sync christmast november 1. but all other christmas music had to wait until after JRW (hence november 15th). i can't wait for "christmas cheer 2001" again.

"whenever i get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow airport..."

the city of new orleans is looking for money.

2005-11-08T01:35:00.000-08:00

the red cross has money. lots and lots and lots of money. over a billion dollars, i believe, has been privately donated to the red cross since pictures of hurricane katrina's devastation reached the mainstream media. and that's fantastic. a true testament to the human spirit, once again. people may not have any kind of connection to new orleans or the gulf coast, but they will take the time to give to the relief effort.

and enter: the red cross. a true american institution. opening shelters across the state to house the displaced persons. they offered meals, clothing, debit cards. even a month's supply of medication for those that needed it.

here we are. 2 months later. lives still a-shambles. politicians yelling at each other over the best plan for the city of new orleans.

my thoughts on the matter started this morning. when the sheetrock people came over the weekend, they covered everything in plastic and taped it down. including our kitchen table (now in our den), the little dorm refrigerator we've been using, our one remaining countertop (the bar between the kitchen and den - the site of many many many sandwiches and margaritas and cheese and crackers), and our coffepot, with coffee and chickory still dripping in it. needless to say, this monday morning, i left the house for work without coffee. sure, that's ok, i think to myself, i'll get to go the little coffeshop i love in the quarter. (contribute a little to the local economy AND get my caffeine? PERFECT!) so i'm driving down royal street, and of course i can't find parking. i just needed a little spot - even illegal - just to pull into so that i could run into la boucherie, get my coffee and leave. the curbsides were filled with FEMA pickup trucks. about my third time going around the block, i started yelling to no one "why are you heeeere? why are you here in the french quarter? the french quarter is FINE! it's the highest freakin' point in the city! why are you taking up space RIGHT HERE. why aren't you in the 9th ward, why aren't you in chalmette, why aren't you lakeview????"

ok, maybe FEMA IS in all those places. the places that really need the help. but it still seems like there is A LOT of FEMA money being spent in an area that doesn't necessarily need all of it. after all, 280 years ago, bienville and iberville knew what they were doing when they founded a city where they did.

right. i digress. i'm not really mad at FEMA. give me a few days. back to me being pissed off at the red cross.

i hear about this load of money that the red cross has accumulated. huh. interesting. i have YET to see a red cross truck in new orleans. i saw a few in fairhope, but then i was told that it was actually some local volunteers that got together to help, and the red cross came and put their sticker on the side of their truck and their sign outside of their civic center. they are STILL waiting for their funding from the red cross. (i don't lie, people)

now i did know that we were able to get $350 from the red cross. 350 dollar bills. sure, i can use $350 dollars. it's not going to help rebuild a house, but that's ok, i can use it. i guess that's what they call "emergency financial assistance" according to the red cross website. well, also according to the redcross website, they are giving 1.34 BILLION dollars to "emergency financial assistance"

i'm going to do some quick math. there might have been 1 million in people in the metro new orleans area before the hurricane. if each of those people claimed their $350, that's $350 million dollars to directly assist citizens. that's 684 million dollars that is unaccounted for.

i haven't heard of the red cross giving some of that money to schools. i KNOW that mt. carmel isn't seeing a penny of it. and on top of that, i know foundations have declined giving mt. carmel money BECAUSE they have already given a good amount of money to the red cross. again, interesting, the money is nowhere to be found.

oh. and that 1.34 billion dollars? doesn't include the 11 million dollars that is supposed to be going towards "physical and mental health services" don't get me started on the need for a mental health task force right now. that's a story for another day. you have no idea how many prescriptions for xanax and paxil i see during an 8 hour day. i talked to krentel - his whole job revolves around improving statewide mental health services - and he doesn't even know what has been set up to provide citizens with access to a mental health professional.

again, TELL ME WHERE YOUR MONEY IS REALLY GOING, red cross.

so the moral of my story: don't give money to the red cross. because we're not going to see it again. i don't know where it goes, but it is not here in new orleans. where it is needed. i have seen the salvation army around - giving out meals when lakeview opened to residents, collecting clothes, cleaning up the neutral ground on esplanade ave. down the street from where i work, at the corner of frenchmen and royal, i see a sign that says free hot meals every day for lunch. obviously, i see FEMA and the national guard. oh, but no red cross.

just food for thought. and i recommend the dark roast coffee at la boucherie.

2005-11-01T21:15:00.000-08:00

when i was going through a cd of pictures the other night, i found some new orleans shots and i just thought i'd share.

i think my favorite is the lucky dog man.

sunday night oranges

2005-10-24T01:38:00.000-07:00

my dad told me this summer how he can't wait for the weekend to be over. why? i ask. "because on monday morning, the global stock markets open and the world's economy moves again. and really, what's more exciting than that?" (that's my dad)

lately, i've come to understand the feeling. while the rest of the world might be experiencing the "sunday night blues" - that dreaded feeling in your stomach when you know you have to get up the next morning to go to class or work- i'm feeling a sense of relief that the weekend is over and anticipation of the people i'm going to meet and the things i'm going to do in the next week.

new orleans is very lonely right now. i'm going to emphasize "right now." i heard on the news how the population during the day in orleans parish is only about 150, 000 - and it drops to about 70,000 at night. only 70,000 people in a city that THRIVES on its nightlife. needless to say, there's not too much happening at night. so the weekend comes and the activity of the week ceases, and it's like things are at a standstill. people that are living here get out and go where there IS somethign going on - to release the tension of the week, forget for a little while what they are going to come home to. and those that stay through the weekend (ie me) just CANNOT wait for the weekend to be over - for people to come back to this empty city and to get ready for things to start moving again.

i love my day job. i get to listen to people's stories all day while getting experiences that i'm going to need in the long run. the doctors are incredibly patient with me and they dont' mind my questions about the drugs they're prescribing or the people they see. it's a great atmosphere. bl came in friday with t-shirts for us that said "i drank the water. katrina 2005" on them. there's such a sense of humor in that office. that's what i have to look forward to during the week. being surrounded by people that have feelings of loyalty and a profound love for new orleans and are doing what they can to bring it back.

just another reason to love sundays.

ready?

2005-10-06T01:45:00.000-07:00

sal's snoballs was soo the place to be tonight. mom and i walked over - praying that they had semi-normal hours and that they were open past 8pm (it was about 9pm). i could've hugged the girl that made my cherry snoball (with vanilla ice cream on top). i think they got new logs to sit on, but i'm not completely sure. the place was hoppin' though - half of metairie, at least. it was a great comfort. all for a total of $1.10.

the other night, we pulled out my grandmother's address book. i jokingly said "oh i bet uncle johnny's cell phone number is in there." well of course it was, so my mom called. got a voicemail, left one, and as of tonight, still hadn't gotten a call back. eh, at least she tried. we laughed at the notes my grandmother had made in there. or who was privileged enough to be in there. she had haydel's bakery right on top of the "H" section. while i'm laughing at this, mom explains that it was because every year, meme would send my mom's best friend from college a king cake on january 6th in virginia. doesn't surprise me too much - meme was that type of person.

sidebar about my grandmother. a mini-tribute, if you will. because if we're talking about new orleans, it's hard not to think about meme. born and raised here. 2331 st. claude ave. - on the edge of the 9th ward. retired social worker. a democrat who loved FDR and the kennedys, and still managed to get along extremely well with my father. she was a very devout catholic. i was her favorite grandchild. (even though i'm sure she told the other 6 the same thing) she would get a king cake on january 6th, and let me believe that it was for my half-birthday. she could predict who was going to be queen of carnival, just by following the debutantes in the living section. she wore charlie perfume. she always had the best family gossip. she was like olympia dukakis in steel magnolias: "if you've got nothing nice to say, come sit next to me" - nothing mean spirited, of course, but juicy enough. she would sit in the same barchair every time she came over, and it was never too early for my dad to make her an old fashion. and she cooked. if i try really hard i can still smell her kitchen. the wonder was that she didn't have a working oven - so whatever she made came from her stovetop or her microwave. no one knows how she did it, and it will continue to remain one of life's mysteries. at her funeral, the priest (a good family friend) was inspired by the benny grunch song "aint there no more" while writing his homily. it was brilliantly done. i might have actually snorted in the middle of the homily. because like k&b and schwegman's and her casseroles and anchovie-stuffed olives - meme simply "aint there no more" (only slightly inappropriate - but, hey, that's how we are)

when we were going through her address book, we tried calling some of the characters in there. the old gay couple that would take her out to dinner after my grandfather passed away. neighbors in gentilly. the only ones we could get in touch with were two sisters who still live in the house next to the house my grandmother grew up in on st. claude ave. (of COURSE they would still be in her address book) both houses were fine throughout the storm and afterwards. but it's in an area that's in the midst of ruin. the house was built over a century ago and it's still standing. unbelievable.

after we got off the phone with the sisters, we talked a lot about my mom's family roots here. peter everett - "the patriarch" i suppose, my great-great grandfather - was actually MARRIED in st. patrick's. i had no idea. so its pretty cool that the family really started there, at that marriage, and that we 4 gretchen kids were baptized there. i see a full circle, eh?

today, i got to talk to mb as she was commuting back to baton rouge. very much needed. it was the first time i got to talk to her since before we all scattered. you know how i am - i think about things too much usually, and i also have never stayed in one place for very long. but when mb said "good. you're staying here," it was like a splash of water and i thought, "yes! i want to stay here, i SHOULD STAY." thanks, mb, that's what i needed to hear, i think.

happy 1st birthday, miss junie-jean

2005-09-24T16:55:00.000-07:00

yesterday, before my dad and i decided to get the hell out of new orleans AGAIN to avoid rita, my cousin came over to get the stuff she and her husband had left when they evacuated.

katie is 3 years older than i am. when i was 9, she was 12, and she lived with us for a summer when her parents were going through the roughest divorce in all of divorce history i think. (think lifetime movie here). but i resented her so much that summer because i needed my mom's attention and clearly, katie was getting it. (it was also the summer, mom announced she was pregnant with christopher... oh the chaos) but we've grown up a lot since then. i respect and admire her. she lives in this great apartment in the bend of bayou st. john with her husband. everytime i go over there, i think of the book "night jasmine" because the main character ends up living on the same street. her husband, justin, just earned his masters degree in english. they are a very hip and cool couple. combined, they have baskets of old records in their living room - beatles to billie holiday. deep down, i want to grow up to be katie in a few years.

katie and justin, have the most beautiful baby in the world. juniper jean windham. to us, she's junie. she's a pepper. pure spunk. sarah and i started babysitting for her this summer. no exaggeration - junie is the happiest child. ever. and i give her credit for bringing the cousins closer together once again.

it's hard to believe we've had junie in our lives for a year already.

katie and justin stayed at our house during katrina because they just didn't feel safe in their apartment overlooking the bayou. rightfully so. by the grace of God, some of neighbors made sure that they did not stay when the waters began to rise on tuesday after the storm. they made it to tuscaloosa via baton rouge. junie got sick in the hecticness, but they found a pediatrician who took good care of her when they were temporarily settled. whew. now they are back in baton rouge because justin got a job teaching english for LSU for a little while. just until they can come back to new orleans, he tells me.

3 weeks later, junie has grown up so much. she's repeating phrases, walking, giving high-fives. she even has a pair of new red mary-janes. she's still smiling away, as if nothing has happened, bringing a constant source of comfort and hope. she's not going to remember new orleans before the storm, or being carried through waist-deep water to leave my house, or sleeping in makeshift beds all over the southeast region as her parents got things settled. but katie and justin are going to bring her back to new orleans and she's going to grow up in a better city. i'm so excited for her.

here comes rita - our lady of prompt succor, pray for us.

talked to pammy today during the four minutes i get to be online. i needed the talk, the banter, the memories of garlic hummus in 204. she's been a trooper and come to mardi gras TWICE. she claims to be good with a hammer (and i can vouche for her) and has offered to help rebuild new orleans. done. but get this story: pam goes to the red cross - moved by what was happening in new orleans - to get whatever training she needs to be sent down here to help. they TURN HER AWAY because TECHNICALLY she's not a rhode island resident. (she's from new york, but living in providence) hm. tell me how that makes sense.

it's raining here in fairhope. i like to fall asleep when it's raining. i want to fall asleep and get rid of a lot of the heavy thoughts in my head. confessional matters perhaps, but i've gone to confession and that's supposed to make you feel better, right? i need to remember how to let go of the things i need to let go of. (insert serenity prayer here) now is as good a time as any. nothing like a hurricane (or two) to make you re-think some things you've done, decided upon, given up on, hoped for - and then keep an eye open for the next opportunity in it all.

i tell ya, patience is the name of the game right now. bring it on.

mmm blue nitrile gloves are so hot....

2005-09-21T23:56:00.000-07:00

day 2 of living in the top two floors of 237:

tonight i had one of the greatest showers of my life. it was just above freezing cold because my dad turned off the hot water heater when he came 2 weeks ago. i've never had a bucket of icewater dumped on me (not that i remember at least), but it was just like that. we instinctively gasp for air and start shaking when shocked with cold water. but that was exhilarating. it forced me to breathe - taking the biggest, most productive breaths. it was as if i hadn't breathed in the last 3 weeks. i don't think i have. i recommend a really cold shower, just to clear your mind.

tonight, dad and i were clearing out the cabinets in our den. the cabinets underneath the giant wall of bookcases. he was taking care of the liquor cabinet, and i was taking care of the games and videos (most of which were still dripping water and/or growing mold). he pulled out a bottle of whiskey (i think) that had this great schwegman's label. SCHWEGMANS! classic. still drinkable whiskey, my dad promised, and i carefully wiped down the bottle with diluted bleach to make sure the mold was gone. he then pulled out this bottle - herbsainte, i think - but it had on the label "THE new orleans spirit" and "served at the old absinthe house, new orleans, louisiana." dad then proceeded to explain to me what absinthe was (ha. oh absinthe... it makes the heart grow fonder), and how when they made it illegal, this particular liquour is what was served. key ingredient in the szazerac. i made sure i kept that bottle. now, my father was a bartender in grad school, so he does enjoy his spirits - like any good new orleanian - so i hoped that him telling these stores would put "good thoughts" in his head about our city.

we have been on a roll - punching through walls, pulling out sheetrock that was still damp and insolation that was still sitting in a pool of water. gross. but hopefully, when we pulled out all the wet stuff, it stopped the mold from colonizing our entire first floor. (i had my first storm nightmare last night - it involved me waking up scratching, thinking my body, my pajamas, my bed, my sheets, my walls, and all the furniture in my room were covered with mold. it was pretty awful) we moved all the furniture, including two pianos (ours and my grandmother's - it's not weird, i promise), trying to make sure we got to all the walls. i sprayed EVERY hole we made and the walls with bleach. lots and lots of bleach. from the outside, our house looked fine. no roof damage, and the oak tree just lost a lot of branches. but upon closer inspection, it looked like the bricks had actually shifted slightly off the slab, as if something had hit it. well, i guess that's what sustained hurricane winds of over 140 mph will do. we do have the neatest pile of trash on the block, we decided. mr. don from across the street was the impartial judge and he concurred. good for us.

i've learned more about construction and demolition in the last 2 days than i have ever wanted to know.

i need to do something super-feminine now - like get a pedicure or facial or go get dressed up for no reason.

2005-09-19T20:26:00.000-07:00

3 weeks, and one day ago today, i left new orleans with my mom, sarah, and christopher. feels like years ago.

we're going home tomorrow. me and my dad. going home to begin cleaning our house. mom is going to stay here in fairhope, alabama, because christopher is now in school. the plan is to go back and forth to trade off - so mom can get back to see her house and i can be the grownup and get christopher to school and swim practice here. going back for good is just as complicated as getting out, it seems. my parents can't officially be back in new orleans until st. catherine is open for christopher - even though our house is habitable. (eh, we didn't really need anything on the first floor, right?) for some people, there is the added dimension of whether there is employment in the area. i guess there's a small blessing that my dad does the things he does with the internet and phone calls.

for those who have watched me argue with krentel, who have eaten homemade waffles or redbeans and rice (or SANDWICHES! mmm sandwiches), or have drunk frozen margaritas (on the fourth of july, perhaps?) at our bar/kitchen, the barchairs survived, but they are currently jammed between the bar and the buckled floor. i think a very VERY small part of my mom's subconscience is glad - she's going to get a new kitchen when this is all over. but i digress.

obviously, my feelings change from moment to moment. i haven't yet really sorted through my feelings of loss, of disappointment, of confusion, or a general fear about what i'm supposed to be doing right now. which direction i'm supposed to go. where i'm supposed to be. where is it PRACTICAL for me to be. (ew, being pragmatic. soooo not me. give me the whimsical anyday.) who i am supposed to be with. it's way too much to be holding in. but as i told my wonderful roommate before she left for peru yesterday, there will be a night where i'm going to need to cry and yell and pound a pillow and then get a really big hug. i feel sorry for the person that is going to have to witness that.
the good thing is knowing that i'm 22 and can do whatever i want. and knowing that what i want is to settle in new orleans.
my dad has this delusion that life is better in fairhope, alabama. he has these dreams of being able to sit at this coffeeshop in the middle of "downtown" and be in the company of artists and authors (because that's pretty much who lives in this little bohemia). he loves the little shops - filled with antiques and books. he loves the little cafes and pubs and how friendly the people are.

and he's right. it's a wondefully quaint place.

but i just want to yell at him, YOU CAN DO THAT IN NEW ORLEANS. YOU CAN HAVE ALL THAT IN NEW ORLEANS.

i want to remind him of how he and mom used to live off of esplanade ave, and take me in my little carseat to cafe du monde at 6am on saturday mornings when i was a newborn. and how, 22 years later, the vietnamese woman that STILL works at cafe du monde, recognized them and remembered them bringing me in a carseat. or how he WILL NEVER EVER be satisfied with a church unless they skip the sign of peace, give communion at a communion rail, and say the important parts of mass in latin - all things that st. patrick's in the warehouse district offers. i want to remind him of how in new orleans, everyone is related to everyone else in less than 6 degrees. or how good the soufle potatoes are on christmas eve at antoine's or a sunday afternoon dinner at galatoire's (and he first took me to galatoire's when i was 6 weeks old). i want him to remember how on saturday afternoons, he would take us on a streetcar ride all the way down st. charles ave., only to turn around at canal street to ride all the way back up to grab a hamburger at the camillia grill. because God knows, I want to give my kids the same memories.

maybe it's a lost cause. but then again, it's good to remind myself why i love this place. i'm throwing in the towel yet.

"the very thought of you makes me stop before i begin. because i've got you under my skin."

::holding::

2005-09-12T17:42:00.000-07:00

Dear America,

I suppose we should introduce ourselves: We're South Louisiana.

We have arrived on your doorstep on short notice and we apologize for that, but we never were much for waiting around for invitations. We're not much on formalities like that.

And we might be staying around your town for a while, enrolling in your schools and looking for jobs, so we wanted to tell you a few things about us. We know you didn't ask for this and neither did we, so we're just going to have to make the best of it.

First of all, we thank you. For your money, your water, your food, your prayers, your boats and buses and the men and women of your National Guards, fire departments, hospitals and everyone else who has come to our rescue.

We're a fiercely proud and independent people, and we don't cotton much to outside interference, but we're not ashamed to accept help when we need it. And right now, we need it.

Just don't get carried away.

For instance, once we get around to fishing again, don't try to tell us what kind of lures work best in your waters.

We're not going to listen. We're stubborn that way.

You probably already know that we talk funny and listen to strange music and eat things you'd probably hire an exterminator to get out of your yard.

We dance even if there's no radio. We drink at funerals. We talk too much and laugh too loud and live too large and, frankly, we're suspicious of others who don't.

But we'll try not to judge you while we're in your town.

Everybody loves their home, we know that. But we love South Louisiana with a ferocity that borders on the pathological. Sometimes we bury our dead in LSU sweatshirts.

Often we don't make sense. You may wonder why, for instance - if we could only carry one small bag of belongings with us on our journey to your state - why in God's name did we bring a pair of shrimp boots?

We can't really explain that. It is what it is.

You've probably heard that many of us stayed behind. As bad as it is, many of us cannot fathom a life outside of our border, out in that place we call Elsewhere.

The only way you could understand that is if you have been there, and so many of you have. So you realize that when you strip away all the craziness and bars and parades and music and architecture and all that hooey, really, the best thing about where we come from is us.

We are what made this place a national treasure. We're good people. And don't be afraid to ask us how to pronounce our names. It happens all the time.

When you meet us now and you look into our eyes, you will see the saddest story ever told. Our hearts are broken into a thousand pieces.

But don't pity us. We're gonna make it. We're resilient. After all, we've been rooting for the Saints for 35 years. That's got to count for something.

OK, maybe something else you should know is that we make jokes at inappropriate times.

But what the hell.

And one more thing: In our part of the country, we're used to having visitors. It's our way of life.

So when all this is over and we move back home, we will repay to you the hospitality and generosity of spirit you offer to us in this season of our despair.

That is our promise. That is our faith.

(Chris Rose for The Times-Picayune Chris Rose can be reached atnoroses@bellsouth.net.)

those aren't my words. but they are damn good words, so i wanted to share. they were written by the same journalist that decided to poke fun at the tarot card readers in jackson square in new orleans by wearing a black beret and sitting out there one day with a magic 8 ball and a book called "existentialism." he sat out in the square all day, making 5 whole dollars from unsuspecting tourists. it turned out to be one of the funniest articles i've ever read. chris rose knows and loves new orleans. enough said.

so i guess anyone who would be reading this right now - close friends, or the ones that stalk me on facebook - know that i'm not living in a castle in england. my life is officially on hold as i play the role of a displaced person. i woke up on the morning of august 30th in houston to 2 emails - one from my cousin who had ridden out hurricane katrina in our house telling us that she had to get out because of the rising water, another one from england telling me that they didn't expect my work permit to go through so don't even bother flying over. awesome, great britain, awesome. so no newcastle in warm pint glasses, no running around a castle in my socks, no seeing michael buble at the apollo in london, no fabulous accents, no flying to rome, ireland, france, china on a whim because i CAN. for about a week, i kept thinking that someone in their "home office" would pick up my application for a work permit, see that i'm from new orleans, and say "we need to get this lovely young lady OVER HERE NOW - GET HER A WORK PERMIT THIS INSTANT!" ah no such luck.maybe one day i'll get to do all those things as a temporary british citizen, but not right now.

the last two weeks have been a blur. the last thing i really remember was spending the night in baton rouge with the fantastic people i know there. (ironic, considering the amount of alcohol i drank that night in total). the next day, i woke up to 10 voicemails from my mom wanting me to get home before contraflow - the beginnings of the evacuation from new orleans. now i've found myself in fairhope, AL - via bunkie LA, alexandria LA, houston TX, pearl MS, and birmingham AL. separated from the only people who can really understand what it means to miss new orleans, and facing the end of life as we know it. dramatic, but true.

if i was to be uber-positive about all of this, it would be to say that i did get out of new orleans with a good portion of my stuff - because i really thought i'd be able to fly out of houston when we evacuated. i brought some great pictures - 204 outside of golden crust on the last day of classes, the group that came to mardi gras this year at pat o's (real women drink EVERY drink on the pat o's drink menu), some great dancing shots at the commencement formal, brett and i on block island, ann and i on groovy day in the seventh grade. the pictures were a nice surprise when i was digging through my bags this week. makes me excited that i can be back in providence soon. if i can't be in london, or new orleans, i'm glad i can be in providence. as much as i fought that idea back in may. the abbey hasn't seen the last of me yet.

if you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans.

it's delightful. it's delicious. it's de-lovely

2005-08-25T00:21:00.000-07:00

last night, my family went to galatoire's as we usually do for any big event in our lives - first communions, homecomings, easter, ballet recitals, and farewells. we realized too late that our last sunday together was about 3 weeks ago, so we had to bend and have our galatoire's supper on a tuesday night. didn't feel quite right, but it was galatoire's so i got over that really quick. for those true new orleans buffs out there, you might remember the restaurant for causing a bit of a controversy in the social scene a few years ago. a waiter, gilberto, was fired for a sexual harrassment allegation - and all hell broke loose when many new orleans socialites no longer had their favorite waiter. letters were written. glasses were flung. an entire campaign to "bring back gilberto" was launched. the letters were so funny that the "Galatoire's Monologues" were born and performed for a while around the city - with local actors just reading the letters. a float in the mardi gras parade "krewe d'etat" featured a giant papier mache likeness of gilberto's head. chris rose actually staged a coup where he went into galatoire's to release balloons with www.welovegilberto.com printed on them - to poke fun at the uproar. i just checked - the website is still up and running. seriously, only in new orleans.

i digress. so the dinner made me realize we are at the end of summer. michael leaves for school on friday, i leave monday, sarah leaves tuesday. friends in baton rouge are in baton rouge for a while. friends are working. friends are going to school. new lives have started. this is it. and it came VERY quickly. wasn't ready for that. but really, when am i ever ready for anything? never. never on time, at least. today i packed sweaters, pictures, and DVDs. i felt like that was pretty productive.

i've been listening to the "delovely" soundtrack all day. not the best movie - but a greeeeat soundtrack. cole porter could be a genius. went to sushi with two old friends - spent aaaall afternoon uptown, just catching up. 3 different people from 3 different high schools, who could come back and share similiar stories about the last 4 years. it was pretty cool. AND one of them will be in rome studying for the next few years. fantastic - ryanair flies between london and rome for like 30 US dollars. europe is sooooo the place to be.

"It was just one of those things,

Just one of those crazy flings,

One of those bells that now and then rings,

Just one of those things.

It was just one of those nights,

Just one of those fabulous flights,

A trip to the moon on gossamer wings,

Just one of those things

So goodbye, Dear, and Amen.

Here's hoping we meet now and then,

It was great fun,

But it was just one of those things."

(cole porter)

maybe it's good that i'm slipping out when i am. maybe my timing is good, in a way, for once. i don't know. we'll see. the last few weeks have been a blur, and i think it's all catching up to me.

like children we come...

2005-08-21T16:33:00.000-07:00

i found myself back in the halls of mt. carmel today. the very new halls of mt. carmel. besides seeing my mom in her "office" i hadn't been back since graduation. i had heard sister camille anne speak at my sister's graduation last year, but hearing her speak today was a very calming experience. it made me thank God that i had a chance to be part of that school. there was something very peaceful about it all. i can recognize that i was in a bubble during those years. a very nice bubble, but a bubble nonetheless. but then i thought about it, and i think that was the best thing for me at the time. i can laugh now at the fact that i had a different colored hair ribbon in my hair EVERY, SINGLE DAY. but what is so wrong with that? i was being sheltered when i needed to be. i learned how to pray. despite the four hours of sleep i got last night, it was easy to be happy and outgoing today. being in the new assembly center was better than a good cup of coffee. i don't think it was me - i think it was the power of carmel.

God must love us, channel 28 has a marathon of Law and Order SVU. score. i hope bd wong is in these.

today i officially started getting excited about england. it probably came from me having to explain to multiple people at mt. carmel "what i was doing with my life." it was appropriate. 4 years ago, i was about pick up and move to providence. i remember telling high school friends how it felt like i was about to jump off a cliff - with a parachute, of course. i just needed to jump. i couldn't begin to imagine how it was going to feel. but i couldn't think about it, i just needed to do it. and i knew i would land on my feet eventually. funny. i've never been skydiving. but i bet i would get that same feeling in my stomach - it would feel just like that moment i got on the plane to providence 4 years ago. i don't think my friends could relate to my feelings then, but i think they can now. maybe i overanalyze things sometimes - i apologize - sometimes i work better with metaphors.

so 4 years ago it was new england. now it is england. coincedence? nah, just meant to be. i'm definitely not as scared as i was then. this is just something i want to do. something great that i'm going to be able to tell my children one day. there's really no logic behind it. no reason - just passion. and we all know "nothing in this world is accomplished without passion"

remember that. be passionate about SOMETHING in life. and never lose your passion.

my school is something straight out of a british novel. absolutely beautiful. it is in kent - called "the garden of england" - just down the street from Rochester cathedral, Cantebury, and the Leather Bottle, a pub that Charles Dickens would frequent. i'm going to be drinking newcastle at the same table as Charles Dickens. i know i was a biology major, but i can appreciate the great literary air that is going to surround me. as if that wasn't great enough - i'm going to be aroundthe corner from one of the greatest ballroom dancing venues in all of Great Britain - complete with "swing nights." amazing. the main building was built in the 1600s. a mere 400 years ago. the school is for girls 11 to 18 years old. i'm not sure what age group i'll be watching over - but i'll more likely be with the younger girls. they live in the main building so i'll be living with them there. i feel like the first night, i'm going to want to run around in my socks, skidding all over the place. i'm going to be THAT american girl. and the brits are just going to have to deal with it.

so 8 more days in new orleans. counting down somehow forces me to do everything i want to do here. all the things i LOVE about new orleans. appreciate those things all over again. it's funny, i do the same things every time i have come home. i should make a list of the things i want to do.

2005-08-20T01:57:00.000-07:00

i like that i can put the font as "tiny" on this thing. i guess that's going to be the closest i get to my own handwriting.

"As I told you before, in some ways I feel most alive when I'm holed up in some corner, writing things down... I love writing letters to the newspaper, notes to my friends, Christmas cards, anything where I have to put down words. I love writing you. You most of all. I always have... This letter, which I'm writing with my own hand, with my own pen, in my own penmanship, comes from me and no one else, and is a present of myself to you... And it's not a telephone call, which is dead as soon as it is over. No, this is just me, me the way I write... the way I want to be to you, giving myself to you across a distance, not keeping or retaining any part of it for myself, giving this piece of myself to you totally, and you can tear me up and throw me out, or keep me, and read me today, tomorrow, any time you want until you die" (Love Letters)

I'm a big fan of that play - let it be my first recommendation to you. but this quote always hit home with me. in more ways, i'm better in writing, on paper. i guess it's the unrelenting romantic in me. or the only way that my thoughts can begin to come together and be coherant.

9 days until another one of my adventures. we're in the single digits now. how surreal. but my feelings on that are for another night.

i got a call from one of my best friends, tessa, tonight - from Foxwoods, THE largest casino in the world apparently - and she made me realize that this summer has slipped by me without a trip back to providence. and she made me remember a certain trip to Foxwoods that started when they kidnapped me from duty. classic.