Recharged

It's amazing what good a little sunlight, heat, and music can do for the soul. Bitter and grey I left Chicago and arrived in New Orleans to feel the tendrils of heart crushing winter fly from my shoulders. The sun reached into my very innards and coaxed to life that nut of happiness and hope that had hibernated through the rain, sleet, and snow that comprises a winter in Chicago.

While having my nose and shoulders softly kissed red by the heavens would have been enough to set any soul blooming like so many tulips, the people truly set the smile on my face. My friend Kristi picked me up from the airport and whisked me to Baton Rouge for the evening, introducing me to potential grad school professors, and then drove me tirelessly back to New Orleans. Getting to spend time with my parents in a way reminiscent of the family vacations we took not so long ago was priceless. I miss them and it was wonderful.

And then the music! The music and the art and the people! And the food! Oh, the culture! That beautiful, slow, rich Southern culture that is so often dismissed as poor and ignorant, not worth preservation. Being in the North, where I'm considered a slow walker, I've forgotten how quick I am below the Mason Dixon Line.

Maybe it's only a mirage to be admired while on vacation. I feel like a part of me is tied to New Orleans. It's had its hooks in me from a young age. I feel myself pulled to her. But am I just nostalgic for the nostalgia that isn't mine? Am I infatuated with city that's an empty shell of its former glory? No. No! Because we need a New Orleans. We need that other worldly place to escape and revel, and even sin.

I don't know what I want. I know I don't want this cold angry city the rest of my life. I don't want this loss of purpose that accompanies my vitamin D deficiency. I know I want love and intelligence and to somehow improve this world, this country. But that's so general! I'll simply plow forward and see what comes. What can any of us do besides that?

Rainy Monday

It's grey but not freezing so I can't complain. This weekend I'll be gone to the warm Southern comfort of Louisiana. I can already feel those short skirts brushing the back of my legs and the slim soled sandles beneath my feet. The food will be heavy and the music loud and I'll finally be in my sunny element once again.

I need to forget about things that are pressing firmly on my mind. I need to unknit my brow, settle my stomach, and accept the moment for what it is. There will be plenty of time to be worried and stressed when I return. But this weekend is an escape from all that for a few precious days.

When I get back, then I'll set to figuring things out. Then I'll wonder where I'll go, what to do, what's most important. My batteries will be recharged. My mind will be less fried. I'll come back to a warmer and better Chicago. Hopefully I can have a positive and productive outlook for a while insteady of this foggy quagmire of uncertainty and aggrivation I've been sunk in.

It will be kittens and rainbows from now on.

Adventures in Writing

I'm getting geared up for a few writing projects I have in mind. It looks like Sergio will be going to Virginia to do the Endstation Theatre Festival again May through July so I figure I'll have pleanty of time to knock out a few pages of my latest attempt at a novel. The project I'm most excited about is one that will involve a month long roadtrip up the Eastern Seaboard. Needless to say, that one won't be happening for a while.

This will be the summer of writing. Well, writing and applying to grad school! And eating well! How about the summer of getting my life in order? The summer of doing those things which will make me a more successful and proactive person! All of the above!

Perhaps it's the sunshine outside or the gift of warm weather dangling just out of reach, but I'm feeling pretty gung-ho about things. In a month I'll look back and rejoice at the fact that I'm done moving. In a week I'll be an hours flight outside of New Orleans. Everything will work out because it always works out. I'm always alive at the end of the day and if I'm not, well, I guess I won't care at that point.

I've made the decision that while I'll be lonely without Sergio, I'm going to have a positive summer. It'll only be a tiny two and a half months. Plus I have Fay. It'll be fine.

Moving

In theory, moving a 300 square foot apartment into a much larger house is a thing of simplicity. Through a few dishes and books in a box, tuck your cat under your arm, and boom. Done. After almost two years of feeling settled, I've forgotten this back breaking, mind numbing, nerve bending task and have formed an even greater collection of stuff. From my easel and painting supplies, to my small record collection. From my desk to my bed, this won't be fun. I can rejoice in the fact that I have a few weeks to move out. I dread the day I have to do it all at once. Most of my books are already at home in their new bookshelf and the majority of my kitchen supplies are getting cozy in new cabinets. But there are pots and pans, DVDs, an entire walk-in closet, my bathroom, and all of my furniture left. I need to set goals. This weekend, the rest of my kitchen, the rest of my books, all of my DVDs, video games, records and CD's will be moved. That's the minimum. The following weekend I'll be out of town and then I have one more weekend to get all my small stuff out before I call in the movers to take the big stuff and then clean. It's all very daunting. I need to focus on the future right now. I need to see myself with my little attic painting/writing studio and doing laundry on a weekly basis, and having barbeque's in the backyard, and drinking brandy out of my new little snifters I bought online. Forward, that's where I'm going. Forward, forward, forward. To here, to grad school, to a place I can put down my bags and not move for at least five years. To warmth and happiness, and a tiny slice of contentment (but not enough to stagnate of course). One day soon this move will be complete and I'll bask in the sun of my low rent and ample room.

NOLA

In a few precious weeks I'll be back in the city which will forever have a firm hold on my tiny passionate heart. New Orleans. Just the thought shoots sharp tingles through my arms and legs.

New Orleans, New Orleans, New Orleans.

What can I say about New Orleans that hasn't been said. Oh to live in a city with so vibrant a heart beat, who greets each day with loud, unforgiving music, who can't be beat by any danger sent her way. Her face is weathered and worn but she smiles and welcomes and parties like each day will be her last.

I can't help but think that our fates are intertwined. I fell in love at a young age and through my happy affairs with London and Chicago, I've never felt a diminished pull towards her. The people with endurance I can hardly fathom show such loyalty to her. She locks hands with you and never lets you go.

Now I'm just writing silly, cliched, poetics, but isn't that what we do when we fall and fall hard? I'll be there soon and then I'll be back. Back to Chicago. Chicago's wonderful but I've begun to see we are an ill fit. I'll be here for a while yet, but not forever. I'm an unwitting nomad, perhaps. We'll have to see.

Blog for Blog's Sake

I've been awful this month, haven't I? I've either been busy, didn't have anything to say, or a little of column A and a little of column B. There are a lot of political things I could say, but something tells me I'm preaching to the choir and honestly, there comes a point when I'm just exhausted with the whole thing. I'm not done fighting by any means, but it's gosh darn frustrating!

The sun is shining today which I think means a happy blog is in order. It's funny how easy it is to pick something unhappy to talk about compared with something uplifting. It's not that I'm perpetually gloomy. Well then, let's talk about the sun.

I've missed you, sun. I've missed the bounce you put in my step. I missed the smile you unwaveringly place on my lips. And most of all I missed your radiant warmth. Actually, I still miss that. One thing about living in Chicago, it really makes me appreciate you in a way that Florida never did.

How about cats. Cats make me happy on a regular basis. I've really come into my own as a cat person. I used to deny it. No, I like dogs but cats are easier to take care of, I'd say. The truth is, I like cats better. We're both solitary, moody, intelligent, and lovable (right Sergio?). I get cats and cats get me. I mean, if you think about it, I'm basically a cat in human form. I like to nap. I like to eat. I enjoy seafood. I'm a fan of snuggling. But I'm not a crazy cat woman. Promise. I mean, I only have one. Just because I said I was for all intents and purposes a cat doesn't mean I'm crazy. I'll just stop now.

Money. I don't have it now, but when I do it's awesome. I'm planning on moving soon and all I can think about is the wonderful amounts of cash I'll be saving. And I will be saving too. Few things thrill me more than watching my money market slowly expand. I feel like Scrooge McDuck counting his gold coins and boy does it feel good. I don't think it's a greed thing. It's more of a, if I keep doing this maybe I can one day fulfill my dream of building a LEED certified house with bamboo floors and solar panels kind of thing.

So there you go folks, happy things.

The Hunger Games

I just finished reading The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins. It's been a while since I've been so wildly impressed by literature intended for a younger audience. Back in the day (for example when Grimm's fairy tale's were first being compiled) children weren't coddled. Stories were a way to introduce children to certain themes which are universal as well as difficult to stomach. Fairy tale's were a way to teach children about death and love and the gamut of human emotion.

The death of a parent isn't as widespread in modern times as it has been in the past. I think parents are inclined to shield their children from as much pain early in life as possible. Who can blame them? I want my children to have an ideal childhood of creativity and discovery. But are we doing more harm by lying about the worlds problem's?

I'm no expert. I'm not even a parent. But I do tend to think that literature is a remarkable way to introduce children to themes that are otherwise unpalatable. In a round about way, removed enough from their own tiny lives, a book might prepare them for the shock of losing a grandparent. It seems to me, even as an adult, that when there is a character in a book that I relate to in someway, it helps me to feel less alone. It stresses the universality of humanity.

The Hunger Games is brilliant in that it refuses to talk down to children. It is written like an adult book with death and war and love. There isn't a fight of good over evil. There's grey area written on every page. Decisions are made that aren't good and just, but the right decision all the same. They are terribly glum books, but addicting and all consuming until the very last page.

The Hunger Games will rank up with His Dark Materials and the Harry Potter series as my favorite "literature for young adults", though I hate that label. I hope there is turn in the genre towards more thought provoking plot and characters. Perhaps it is the twilight of the Twilight's.