wait, what . . . a second time

For the past forever in the United States there have been whites and blacks. (I'm excluding native Americans here because they're always forgotten about in history, so really, why must they be included in my blog?) Almost as long as the past forever, there has been a mixing of the races in the country. Some relationships occurred on their own, because, well, a person is a person. Other relationships were the result of pressure and not because it was what both parties wanted. Anyways, my point with this little rant is that when people think of mixed race, it's black and white. They do this because our country has a history of doing so. (Back to those pesky Indians - nobody really cares that John Smith and Pocahontas got together.)

Fast forward to 2006. We've still got blacks and whites. We've also got some other races and ethnicities mixed in as well. Here's what I didn't know until recently: if you're Arab or of Arab descent, you're not white. Now this may come as a shock to some, so I'll pause for just a second to let people sit down . . . . . . ok, pause is done, Apparently I'm not white. Crazy, I know. Apparently, proximity to Caucasus (you know, where the word Caucasian comes from) does not matter. Even the people who live in the part of Iran that is included in the Caucasus and are therefore Caucasian are not white.

Now here's a little Sarah family history. My mom's family is about as WASPy as they come. I've got relatives who were here before the Revolutionary War. Anyways, this little white girl fell in love with my dad. My dad's side of the family is from Syria. Well, technically they immigrated to the US before Syria was even a country. (Syria was not a country until the British and French decided to divide some land in the Middle East after World War 1 making Syria, Iraq, Lebanon, and Palestine - learn your history people.) Anyways, my dad is 100% of Arab descent minus the Crusader blood that I'm sure got mixed in their at some point. So if you put my mom and dad together, you get me and my sister who would then be a mix of European mutt and Arab ethnicities. This is not news to me. I just never knew that if you're Arab, you're not white. We always joke that my mom is a white girl, but it was just a joke. Who knew it was true? Apparently, everyone except me. I feel like Dave Chappelle when he was a blind black KKK member. Anyways, for all of you white supremists out there who want to be my friend, beware. I'm a mixed race southerner and proud of it.

Peter and Isa - my heart

I interviewed a man today about the Katrina Relief Center that he ran in Oxford. He showed me some pictures of an old Walmart that was used as the base, and there were many pictures of kids. It reminded me of a story I'd forgotten of Peter and Isabella and made me cry. I hope the guy didn't notice. The story follows.

The Audubon Zoo was not open when I first returned to New Orleans. While not part of my daily life any more, there was a point when I worked at the zoo and then later when I took Peter and Isabella frequently. Now, because I couldn't, I wanted to take Peter and Isabella more than ever.

The zoo finally reopened around Thanksgiving, and I took Peter and Isa one Saturday at the beginning of December. Just past the ticket counter was a table with Americorps volunteers. On the tables were backpacks with toys, books, pens, etc. for all of the children at the zoo that day. School children from Wisconsin (or some state in that area) had collected things for the children of New Orleans. Peter and Isabella were each given a bag. When I handed Peter his bag, he said, "What's this for?"

"Some kids in Wisconsin collected toys for the children of New Orleans because of the hurricane," I replied.

"But I didn't get any damage. There were just some broken windows. Nothing happened to me," he said.

"Well, they wanted all the kids affected by Hurricane Katrina to have something," I tried to explain.

"We need to give this to the kids that lost their houses, the ones that got damage. I should give it to them."

It broke my heart to hear Peter, six years old at the time, tell me this. I finally told him that I would hold onto the bag, so he could have it later if he wanted.

In November 2005, Isabella and I were on the swings at the park. On the side of the street there were some tree limbs and other debris that had been cleared from someone's yard. "That's damage," she told me. Isabella had turned four the week before.
Isabella and Peter - my heart.

A Year Ago Today

A year ago today I went back. Less than a year later I moved away. I shouldn't, but I feel guilty, like I should still be there. I know that had it not happened I would not be there now. I would have moved away guilt free. But, alas, this is not the case.

I had quasi plans to be there this weekend too which might be part of the reason I really wish I could be back. Not that I expected the plan to come to fruition, but I still hoped. It would have been fun: the Grove with a person I have fun with, a drive to the city, me partying it up for Halloween and him indulging my fun, a football game, a drive back to the middle of nowhere. I realize now that it was my 2nd homecoming of sorts: going back one year later, seeing the progress, noticing the people.

I still remember the day I first saw a homeless person in the city again. I know that sounds terrible, but it was a sign of sorts.

Now I'm in the world of cocktail dresses with uggs. Not that I've seen any, but it wouldn't surprise me.

Attention People of Oxford

Attention People of Oxford:

If you see me standing on the side of the road, patiently waiting for you to drive by, please do not stop for me to cross the street. I understand that I have the right of way, and I do appreciate your southern manners, but stop being polite.

If I walk out in front of you, then by all means, pause, hit your breaks, and yell at me through your window. If at this point, you hit me, I'll sue you. Don't doubt that I won't do it too.

Just please don't stop for me when I'm standing there not ready to cross the street. There could be many reasons I don't want to cross yet. Fear of you actually not stopping and hitting me instead. Need to readjust clothing and don't want you to see. Want to flash someone, and it's not you. It could be anything.

So people of Oxford, or Oxonians if you prefer, don't wait for me if I'm standing on the side of the street. This girl from Cola and Nola walked the streets without people stopping to let her cross and obviously survived to tell about it. I'll cross when I'm ready. Keep driving. Mostly because, I won't stop for you.

And yes, for those not living in the middle of nowhere, people from Oxford are called Oxonians.

Social Liberal

You are a Social Liberal (73% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (15% permissive) You are best described as a: Socialist Link: The Politics Test on OkCupid Free Online Dating Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

A Tangled Web

So this past weekend was the second time in my life I visited New Orleans. The first time was when I went to Tulane Days - yes, I was one of those. I then lived in New Orleans for six years, a quarter of my life. This past weekend was my first time back after moving away.

I like to torture myself, to hold on too long, to play the "what if" game in my head.

Driving back in to the city calmed me. I was home. Yes, I said it, home. For people who know me well, you know that my last year in New Orleans was anything but easy. By the end of it, I was definitely ready to leave. And while it was the right decision to go, now I just wish I was back.

I am wondering this though, does the city still look like a terrible mess? I honestly can't say. I'm not talking about the flattened areas of town, but on just a normal drive through the city - does the city look normal to visitors or can you see lots of damage? (Sidenote - I hate that there are national guardsmen in hummers patrolling the city again. There's a differece between a heavily armed guard in say NY and one in NOLA. In New York they're protecting the city from terrorism. In New Orleans, they're protecting the city from itself.)

On a lighter note. . . I saw Tulane play football. They lost worse than I hoped but as bad as I expected. I saw friends that I haven't seen in months and friends that I feel like I haven't seen in months. I saw my kids whom I love. I ate gumbo, which I hadn't eaten nearly recently enough. I did not see the Saints, but I did see the Superdome with all its cool lights. (I watched the game, and it was awesome, and now I really want to see them in person.) I learned that I will die of the plague or get exposed to it and then tell someone I love them - or not.

Um, I think that's it.

A Day in the Grove

- Girls in dresses and three inch heels.

- Guys in red and blue checked pants and red polos.

- Pop up tents with chandeliers and fine china.

- The band playing "Dixie" and students cheering "the South will rise again!"

- Shouts of "Go Rebels!" in the stadium.

- Colonel Reb watching the game in the student section.

- God saying it's only ok to buy alcohol on Sunday if it's an Ole Miss football gameday.

It was lots of fun, definitely a new experience. Seriously though, I feel like I stepped into some parallel universe. Anyways - here's to having fun, meeting new people, and embracing traditions I never expected.

The Open Road

And then I went . . .

No one in front of me; no one behind me. Just the road, the open road. My mind empty for the first time in days. Windows down, wind blowing on my face, cd player blasting, and I went. Through twists, turns, curves, and straightaways. I went until I was almost lost but not quite. And then I turned around.

And then I went . . .

I found a new road and did the same thing. I went until I was almost lost but not quite. Still, my mind empty, the windows were down, the wind was blowing in my face, and the cd player was blasting. And I was almost cold but not quite. And my phone rang.

And then I went . . .

I met up with friends at a local bar. I listened to the band. I got a few drinks. I looked around wondering who all these new people were, knowing they're all the same. Even the people who think they're not the same as everyone else are the same. And I know I am too, but I need to find some character, someone to make me break away, someone who will show me who I really am. I started thinking. About everything. About nothing. About how no one understands, about how others understand, about guilt. Then it was time to go.

And I left. No one in front of me; no one behind me. Just me and the open road.

New Orleans Crime and the National Media

Ok, so I've been meaning to vent about this for a while now. I cannot stand how New Orleans is portrayed in the national media. Television, newspaper, what have you. Every time there is a murder in the city it is reported it is nationwide news.

This is the problem. New Orleans has always been a violent city. It has always been poor. There have always been murders. Do your research people - New Orleans was one of the national leaders in homicide before Hurricane Katrina. Instead of the local news showing a map with car wrecks, there is a map with murders.

While I don't condone these murders, it is something I came to accept while living in New Orleans. It's just the way it is. Homicide in New Orleans was never national newsworthy prior to Hurricane Katrina, so why is it now. Get over it people. New Orleans will remain corrupt. It will remain poor. It will remain homicide ridden. There was a slight hope that the city would change after the hurricane, but I must admit that I was slightly excited when I saw a homeless person the first time after I got back. Granted, it wasn't until December, and I got back to NOLA at Halloween. But it proved to me the city was coming back.

So - if you've never lived in New Orleans, stop freaking out about the crime in the city. If you've lived in New Orleans, you know what I'm talking about.

Missin' Nola like whoa

It's official; I'm living in Oxford. Notice I did not say Mississippi. Just like when I lived in New Orleans, I did not say I lived in Louisiana.

It's definitely weird moving to a brand new place. I still feel like I'm visiting. Very slowly I am unpacking. It's as if I don't unpack I can still leave. If I unpack, then I am here to stay. Don't get me wrong - I am excited to start school back. I am excited to meet new people. I am excited to start new things, but I am scared as well. Scared that I'm making the wrong decision. Scared that I came to the wrong place. Scared that I'm doing the wrong thing. Scared that I won't meet new people.

I know that's all impossible. I know that it was time to leave New Orleans. I know that I've only been here for three days and that obviously it will take longer to feel more comfortable. I know it all. It doesn't mean that I don't have irrational fears though.

I miss home. I miss normalcy. I miss my job where I did everything was underappreciated and underpaid. Whine, whine, whine. Ok, enough of that. I'm done whining - at least online. I do want a hug though.

Mississippi

What do Louisiana and Missippi have in common? Mississippi makes Louisiana look good. What do Arkansas and Mississippi have in common? Mississippi makes Arkansas look good. I'm moving to Mississippi!!!!!! What's up with that?!

I'm nervous. I'm second guessing things. That's about it - I'll write something about m cross country trek soon.

Wuuaa

There's something that lives outside my house now that goes wuuaaah wuuuaah wuuaah. I don't know what it is, but it's annoyingly loud and my house is annoyingly uninsulated. If only I knew what it was - then i could go outside and smack it.

Three Quick Things

When did it became fashionable to show off a beer belly? I don't understand. Beautiful girls are wearing clothes that accentuate the beer belly - it's beyond me. I'm not criticizing having a beer belly. I'm not saying your fat. I'm just wondering why you're wearing your beer belly like a necklace. Explain it too me please.

Next - I want a new crush. Not that the old one is bad, I just want a new one. Kind of like I want a new shirt. Don't really need one, it's just fun. Maybe a nice Jewish boy. Then again, I don't really care. I'll most likely want someone I can't have, which is the way it always works. I want what I can't have.

Next - I wish I could let things go. I don't usually hold grudges - well, maybe I do - but it's more stupid stuff that gets to me. When things don't go my way I get tense. Guess that's just the stubborness in me.

Next - I'm a little bit scared. Ok, a lotta bit scared about moving to the middle of nowhere. I'm hoping everyone has their teeth and babies wear shoes.

Splash

Sometimes I can't decide between writing a creative blog or just writing as if this were a journal or writing to the audience that is anyone with a myspace account.
I'm still not sure today what's going to come out.

The rain came down in buckets Saturday, drenching every crack and crevice the water could find. Always the type to enjoy a rainstorm, the sound of a thunderstorm outside was a welcome distraction and soon soothed me to sleep. Soothed me until it dripped. And continued to drip. And then splashed, waking me from a now forgotten dream. This was not just any ; it was a "bitch, i hate you" drip (yes, that was my roof talking to me) that decided to leak onto my bed. After frantically pulling my mattress off the box springs and standing it against the tv, I quickly found buckets to put on the floor and the remainder of what was my comfortable bed. Since I don't have a permanent guest room in my house, my sleeping option was my chair and a half (I promise that's what it's called: bigger than a chair, smaller than a love seat - it's a chair and a half) in the living room. A short freak out and call to my landlord at 3:30 am later, which he didn't answer of course, and I was asleep in the living room. Until 5:30.

Rain, rain go away . . . it didn't. And then the water leaked onto me while asleep on the chair and a half. So what do I do - the same thing any other 23 year old girl who's fed up does. I cried. Ok, I moved everything, called my landlord again - just to make sure his night was as bad as mine, which it couldn't have been - and then cried on the floor of my living room. Not sure what to do, I moved the mattress I had propped up earlier, which had survived getting wet due to my awesome but now damp mattress pad, into the office and throwing it on the floor. Exhausted, I slept for about four hours.

So the rest of the weekend, was really very good. My cousin Michael was in town with some of his friends looking at Tulane Law. I got to play tour guide, which I like to do. I just wish I'd gotten sleep on Saturday. 3 more months, 3 more months, I love you, New Orleans, but 3 more months.

And I

And I know I will never be the same. And though it is not their fault, most people will never understand. And even I will never comprehend fully. And then I realize how it changed me.

I will always overpack, because the one time I didn't was the one time I needed to.
I will talk about things differently than others do.
I will split my life into before and after.
I will not remember about four months of time.
I will be one of those people that others talk about and say "why does she keep going back to that."

And I'll know why. And I'll hope that it doesn't hold me back.

Retardedness

Let's just start by saying, I know I'm retarded. Most of you reading this know I'm retarded too. That aside, here are the most retarded things I've done thus far this week.

Sunday - I quoted Jefferson Airplane in a blog. That was definitely a lapse in judgement. I am retarded.

Monday - I burned my finger on a baked potato really badly. So badly, there is now a blister forming. And yes, I did say burned my finger on a BAKED POTATO. I am retarded.

Tuesday - I clicked on a virus in an im message while my virus scan was conveniently off. I am retarded.

Just wanted you too feel better about yourself today.

A little wiser

Woohoo for being 23 - my birthday was on Friday, and it was a great day. It started with the opportunity to sleep in, since I had the day off from work. I went to Cafe Adelaide for lunch with Heather, Ardyn, Takeshi, Celeste, and Jon who happened to be in town for the weekend. The food was delicious, and I of course ate way too much. (I think it's ok on your birthday though.) Besides the food being awesome, we had quarter martinis. You gotta love not paying more than 75 cents for 3 drinks. After lunch, Heather, Jon, and I went to the fly with Jon's friend who happened to be in town. FYI - don't go to the fly after drinking at lunch without any water. We didn't last very long, because Heather and I got way too hot and thirsty. Next stop, Jon's house. The pool was green, so there was no swimming, but it was still nice to just sit out. We cooked out for dinner, and I fell asleep by 11. Most people think it sucks that I was too tired to go out, but I couldn't have asked for a better day. It was lots of fun.

Ok, so now I'm a year older and supposedly a little wiser. Apparently wisdom comes with age. Anyways, it's hard to believe that this time last year I had no clue what was about to come. Let's see, this time last year, I had just officially gotten my job even though I'd been working it since August. I worked my ass off for camp. McCann moved away; Nikki moved away. The hurricane hit - blah, blah, blah. Spent some months in Columbia. Spent some months in a very damaged city. And now I'm here, still in a damaged city, but at least it's getting better. I'd like to think I've changed some, grown some. It was definitely a year like no other.

Hopes for the next year:
work hard in school and not be the same slacker I was in college. I will start all papers at least a week in advance instead of the night before. That'll last exactly one paper, but I can still hope.

make new friends, but keep the old - yeah, all you girl scouts should know that one. I'm excited about the new people out there.

fall in love - I know it's cheesy and girly, but that's what I want. I've done the random hookup, and now I need something new. It's more of a selfish thing really. I need someone to love; I need to be vulnerable; I need I don't know what. I'm not making a plea to anyone here by saying this stuff. I'm just saying it. "Don't you want somebody to love? Don't you need somebody to love? Wouldn't you love somebody to love? You better find somebody to love." I'm jealous of my friends, and I don't like that.

not be poor - I'm not saying be rich, just not be poor. I think I'm headed in the wrong direction by going to school full time but, I can dream - it's my blog.

discover more of who i am.

overcome stuff i haven't dealt with.

ok - this could go on forever. maybe these should be life goals, but it would be nice for them to start in the next year. And with that, I'm done.

Mardi Gras Update . . . especially for Sonya, Cameron, and Drew

Just a quick update, because I seem to have forgotten a few things about Mardi Gras . . .

So my first parade of the week was really on Thursday with Heather, Michelle, Daesy, and Jessica. That night I met up with Drew and Rob at cafe du monde after they saw a concert at House of Blues.

Friday, we met up with DREW, and SONYA, and CAMERON. Drew moved to Fort Lauderdale over the summer; Sonya was in Paris for the fall semester then deserted Tulane and transferred to Texas (it's ok Sonya, we forgive you for that); and Cameron moved to D.C. a while ago. Anyways, it was great to see them all. The same stuff happened Friday night . . .

Saturday after the parades and before the cookout at Todd's (Justin's cousin I mentioned in the 1st blog), Sonya (Justin's cousin I'm mentioning in the 2nd blog) showed up with her friend in the same clothes she was wearing the day before. (I told you that would have to come up Sonya). Blah, blah, blah. Drew hit on some girl and got her to come to the table by chanting "We want yellow! We want yellow" with his new best friend of the weekend, Erich. Blah, blah, blah. We saw Jason and Brandy at the Rebirth show at Howlin' Wolf . They'd been there since 9pm thinking the show would start at 9pm and more importantly, on time. (It started about 1am.)

Sunday and Monday are the same. More time spent with Erich, McCann, Justin, Drew, Cameron, and others.

The Crotch Watching Society convened on Tuesday and Mark was there with Heather.

Did I leave anyone out?

P.S. Thank you so much for the bathroom-that was key for such a successful Mardi Gras.

wait, what?

So, I mentioned that I got into grad school, but there's a whole slew of details I left out. Here is the exact conversation that I've had with pretty much everyone who asks about . . .

-Sarah, where are you going? I'll be at Ole Miss starting in the fall.

-So are you just following McCann and Justin? Exactly-I missed them too much that I just had to go to Ole Miss. Actually, I'm going to Ole Miss to get my masters in southern studies, and it's the only school with the program.

-Huh, southern studies? What's that? You remember how I majored in American studies in college (no? well, i did)? It's like that but now focused more on the South. According to Heather, I'll be majoring in Mobile (that's the city in Alabama people, not the thing you put over a baby's crib). Trust me, I will not focus any of my work on Mobile.

-I still don't get it; what are you doing? Ok, ok, I'll explain more. I'll be doing history, english, music, etc., that happened or was made or focuses on the South. You know, those states in the southeastern quadrant of the U.S.

-So, uh, what are you gonna do with that? The same thing anyone with a masters in history or english will do. Duh. I do have more of an idea than that, but I'd rather not divulge considering everything changes anyway.

So that's the plan. I'd also like to take the time to tell people to write a blog. It makes your page cooler, because you're one of the few people to write one AND you can entertain your friends while they're bored at work.

Flowers and kisses

've got big boobs - let's just get that out there before I go any further.

With Mardi Gras over, we needed another reason to have some parades, and wouldn't you know, it's time to celebrate St. Patrick's day. Not as ready for Round 2 of parades quite yet, I begrudgedly put on my game face and headed out for day 1 of weekend 1 to catch a parade. I got lots of flowers and lots of kisses - like I said, my chest isn't exactly what most would consider small. Anyways, a cabbage almost broke my finger (don't all floats across the country throw out cabbages, carrots, potatoes, and onions during St. Patrick's day parades?) but an hour later my finger still worked, so no harm done.

Day 2 of weekend 1 dragged on a little more. I'm definitely paraded out - there hasn't been enough time since Mardi Gras to be truly ready for more parades. Anyways, this time there were more kisses, more flowers, ramen noodles (that's right, I said ramen), and a pair of green panties I was obliged to then wear on the outside of my pants. After a forever long parade, we headed back to devour crabs and crawfish - yum!

Oh yeah, Saturday night I got a little cultured. Went to a burlesque show - it was definitely entertaining. Not that watching girls take their clothes off is usually on my list of things to do, but it was lots of fun.

Oh yeah, Mardi Gras . . .

So before I fell into my sullen state, I had a blast during Mardi Gras.

The festivities began Friday afternoon with McCann and Justin getting into town. We headed out to the parades and found a perfect street corner. You gotta love a city where it's acceptable to stand on a street corner at 5pm with a beer in your hand across the street from a group of cops all wishing they could be in your shoes instead of working. Parades, bars, parades, etc. Oh yeah, and we had a bathroom at a friends house across the street.

Saturday morning I picked up Erich at the airport, dropped his stuff at the house, and headed straight to the parades again. Saw my boss drunk on her float and got lots of cool stuff from her. Met up with Justin's cousin and went to a cookout at his house just off St. Charles. Little bar hop, jump to Michelle's, and then Papa Grows Funk and Rebirth Brass Band at Howlin' Wolf until the wee hours of the morning.

Sunday, headed out for a long day. Finally got in touch with Nikki after calling her for hours. Went to the Bacchus Ball - lots of fun: touched Batman, ok, ok it was really Michael Keaton; got lots of stuff when the parade came into the convention center; got my picture taken with Sean Astin - you know Rudy, one of the kids from the Goonies, and also a hobbit.

Monday hung out on a balcony at the Bourbon Orleans. It's amazing the things people will do for a strand of plastic beads. The girls definitely got more guys to drop their pants than the boys got girls to flash. Don't worry, I was only a tease, not a flasher.

Tuesday, up at the crack of dawn for Crotch Watching Society festivities at Rex. Passed out for the rest of the day and Wednesday.

Phew . . . it took a lot out of me just writing that. You know you wish you could've been there.

. . .

Sometimes it comes true, that irrational fear that you just can't shake. Everyone says, "Oh, don't worry. That's not going to happen. You're gonna get it." And then you don't. It comes as an unexplainable shock, and you don't know what to do. Is it the end of the world? Rationally, you say no, but your irrationality proved true the first time.

So what now? Pick yourself up and move on. Of course, but it's a hell of a lot more difficult than what anyone says. I don't know what to do, and everyone has a suggestion but I'm stubborn. I need to figure it out for me. Where do I want to go; who do I want to be; what does it take to change?

It's not fun anymore.

?

My mind is racing. It won't stop, jumping from one thing to the next. Should I go this way, or would it be better if I do that? Where will I end up? Where will I go? Should I consider more places? Should I do something else? Is this all I can do? Is there more? Should I put up with this shit? Should I put up with people who make me stress? If I didn't talk to anyone for a week would you wonder why? Would you still care? Do you still care?

I can't sleep. I can't wake up. My mind is racing; it won't stop.

1 in, 51 to go

You would never guess it could happen, but it does. On occasion, time stands still. Most people never experience this phenomenon, but it happens. The strangest part of life since the hurricane is that my life was on hold and started again a few months later but in overdrive where I had to play catch up.

I left New Orleans on August 27, 2005 for a weekend trip to visit some friends far enough away from the coast to avoid a hurricane. I returned two months later, October 27, 2005.

Looking back, it's still surreal. Friday, August 26th, Heather came in to my office and told me to look up the hurricane path. I pulled up NOAA, looked at the map, and laughed. Hurricane Katrina was headed directly for New Orleans. This was the same hurricane that sat on top of Miami for a few days as a category 1 and let out a ton of rain earlier in the week. It was supposed to continue into the Gulf of Mexico and up to the Florida panhandle. Obviously, that didn't happen. I was completely amused that the hurricane picked freshmen move-in day to come to New Orleans. My boss, Missie, had already left for the day, and knowing that she got special university hurricane updates, I called to see if she had any info. She didn't at the time, but told me she'd let the staff know what she found out. Normally Reily becomes the hurricane opperation center for the campus and a small shelter for TUPD, facilities services, and their families. It's typically a great way to get a little extra money and not have to worry about staying alone in my house for the storm. Typically, the storm shifts and never comes close to New Orleans. Oh, to be typical.

Friday night I went out to happy hour with some friends, still not deciding if I was going to take a long weekend to see some friends or stay at Reily. Saturday morning I checked the noaa.com and saw that the hurricane had strengthened to a category 4 with a strong likelihood of becoming a 5. I went to babysit Peter and Isabella, still not having decided what to do. By 10am, I decided to make a weekend trip to see McCann and Justing up at Ole Miss. I knew I didn't have to be back at work until Wednesday, so I decided to have fun with my unexpected time off. I threw a couple of days worth of stuff into my suitcase, unplugged a few things, put gas in my car, and set off to Oxford, MS.

The hurricane hit and followed me to Oxford. Then the levees broke.

Septemeber 1, 2005 I left Oxford with the same clothes I had packed and drove to Columbia. Time stood still, and I waited. I waited to find out if my friends were ok. I waited to find out if my stuff was ok. I waited to find out what would happen to my life. I found out water was on my street and Tulane was flooded. Classes were cancelled for the semester, and employees would not return to work any time soon.

Finally, I received word that I still had my job and, even better, I would still get paid while I was in Columbia. I also heard that while my house was ok, a few friends lost theirs completely. Around, life continued for my family and friends, but I was still in limbo. Not knowing for sure what was to come. I studied for the GRE (not that you would know based on my score), volunteered at the Home Work Center, took a few trips (Charlotte, Wisconsin, NYC), and generally bummed around.

October 27th, 2005, with my parents blessing but hesitations, I drove back to New Orleans. Time started again but with a two month gap. I tore off two months worth of pages from the calendar on my desk. I attempted to call the number of the vendor we needed for Reily Rocks listed in my dayplanner only to find it disconnected. I found bills on my desk from the summer. Everything was exactly where I had left it; time had stood still.

Slowly, life is coming back to the city. We are once again preparing for the students to return to Tulane (I'll believe it when the day comes this time). Stops signs are being replaced with working traffic lights (still not at Earhart and Carrolton though!). Flood debris has been replaced by debris from house gutting.

My desire to be in the city fluctuates week to week. My initial excitement about being back in the city left me long ago, but I'm hoping the return of the students will also bring me some excitement. So far, i'm still waiting. I think the worst is behind, at least I hope. If nothing else, I only have to last a few more months. If grad school turns out to be a bust, I don't know what I'll do but it will force me to make some decisions. Most likely a decision still to leave. New Orleans-always in my heart even if I miss it while I'm still in the city.