DISCLAIMER: This post is a break from the "let people live the way they want" vibe of the blog thus far. This is only my very personal view on the use of emoticons. I'm not trying to rain on anybody's parade. If you use emoticons and are easily offended perhaps skip this post and my apologies.
Since my live and love tour is temporarily on hold due to the arduous task of applying for graduate school, I can now direct my attention to blogging about the really important things in life, like the use of emoticons. I used to be down with emoticons. Back when AIM was the center of my universe I frequently used AOL's gallery of faces (with the tongue face being especially naughty for a 6th grader..) How else could I add an exclamation point to my "LOL" but with a cute little smiley face?! Mophie2216 used emoticons purposefully and frequently. Then I graduated from middle school.
Maybe that was harsh, and I'm a little sorry to my friends who are addicted to using these expressions of self, but not that sorry. Overuse of emoticons is a problem, and one that I would like fixed, preferably immediately. What, exactly, are you trying to convey to me with that smiley face? That you're joking? That you're laughing? That you're happy? Including an emoticon NEVER adds clarity to a message, in fact it makes it more ambiguous. HOW am I supposed to know WHICH of the above variables applies to any specific message. And if you use a smiley face with EVERY text message then it automatically loses all meaning (meaning that it doesn't have to begin with), like the overuse of the word "love" or "aggressive."
More importantly, what is the meaning behind winky faces? Are you alluding to an inside joke that I don't get, or are you trying to be sexy? If you're using a winky face in attempt to be sexy then I will automatically assume that you are an underage, braces-wearing teenager OR a federal agent trying to catch a predator. Anything that uses a punctuation mark with the word colon in it is not, nor will ever be, sexy. Thanks. Try Again.
My guidelines to acceptable emoticon use (obviously a personal opinion, by all means continue to look silly through dumb faces):
-once a week, at the very most. Remember, overuse makes your "O" face seem fake...
-ironically, though this one is tricky because it's hard to sense irony through texts, completely dependent on the sender/the context.
or
-never.
I will proudly eat these judgmental words if one can offer up a situation where an emoticon added value to the message they were trying to send. Otherwise, if the words in your text message don't adequately express how you are feeling, do me a favor, save the face and call me, 617-650-2082.
xo
e
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Back Home, Part 2
It's been a week since I've been back in the Northeast and these last 7 days have allowed me to reflect more on my experience. It's amazing to me that an experience in three weeks so drastically improved my life, but my trip to New Orleans made me that much closer to becoming a real human being (footnote crediting that to RJ, thanks friend.) Being a volunteer rocks, if I could volunteer for the rest of my life I would. I am discovering how lucky I am to be able to volunteer for this short period of time. It's important to me to get outside of myself, my mind and my little Cambridge/JP bubble and actually give to people who deserve it. When you volunteer you're not doing it for a paycheck, so you actually have to want to be there (unless you're Lindsay Lohan and are required to do community service.) If you don't want to be there, then you don't go, it's as simple as that. I suppose there is an aspect of this that speaks to my fear of commitment, but I was certainly committed to Mrs. Jones' house and the project. This also means that the other people whom you meet while volunteering want to be there. It's a nice feeling, being surrounded by motivated and passionate people, it has the effect of rubbing off on you if you get close enough. I tried to get as close as possible. I invited myself to any and everything, which may have been annoying, but certainly paid off. I was able to meet amazing people and immerse myself temporarily in their lives. I met people who have done the peace corps, people who work in the entertainment industry (not porn, I know what some of you are thinking,) people who devote themselves to Americorps, singers, nurses, anthropologists. I met people on from across the spectrum, in terms of socio-economic status, political views, religious views, food views, etc. It was fantastic. I can't say that I have significantly changed my views on things, but I can certainly appreciate how others see the world and I am closer to understanding the importance of listening, just listening. I’m pretty into interesting people; nearly everyone has at least one interesting story and can educate and expand my mind.
As mentioned previously in this blog, I had never travelled alone, or at least not in this manner. I studied abroad in Australia, but went with a group of BC kids and we had our first two weeks there micromanaged. I flew the coop and hoped my wings wouldn't fail me, and they didn't. This, in and of itself, continues to empower me. That I was able to go to a place where I knew no one and create a community in 3 weeks is something I am immensely proud of. Granted I can still, and will always, be semi-awkward, but that's just an endearing piece of my personality... As weird as things got at Camp Hope at the end, I will always consider Rob and Jaime part of my extended family. Despite the fact that they had fallen on hard times and were dealing with their own shit, they took me under their wings, cooked for me and spent time with me. They have had to fight for everything they’ve ever had (both literally and metaphorically) and when given an inch they’ll try to take a foot. Initially this was off-putting and a little intimidating for a sheltered girl from Cambridge like me, but they have big hearts and I have enormous respect for them and the kind of life they are working towards.
The St. Bernard Project hooked me up with an incredible group of human beings. The group of Americorps volunteers SBP has is a force to be reckoned with, I am beyond impressed with the quality of people that SBP attracts. They allowed me into their circle and were kind and generous along the way. They taught me so much more than just how to play slosh ball (if Boston parks would only allow kegs, I would totally bring this back to MA.) Really, really stand-up people. Josh and Rachael are superstars and I’m pleased as punch that I got to spend most of my time down there in their company.
My overall feeling throughout this trip and in my reflections since being back is how freaking lucky I am to have what I have. I’m not just talking about material things, though I am obviously thankful for those things too. I’m at a loss for words to describe how blessed I feel to be surrounded by such dynamic, fascinating, intelligent, loving people in my family, my friend group and my mentors. I am clearly still drinking the love potion/kool-aid, but I am astounded by how beautiful this country is and by how many beautiful people there are in this world. I’m not historically an emotional person, but affirmations are important not just for one’s self, but for everyone (Meghan- you’re wonderful.) My optimism is fueled by my realization that I actually know what I want to do with my life. This is exciting to me because it is the first time in my memory that I’ve been so sure about what the future holds. I want others to feel this love and to see their own beauty. Of course I see that this is easy for me to say, given the fact I’m not scrambling for my next meal, or unsure of where I’ll sleep at night. But meeting people from all walks of life, listening to them, respecting them and loving them has shown me, and hopefully will continue to show me, that there is a small possibility that I can make a slight difference. I will continue to pay it forward.
This past weekend I went with my younger brother down to Brooklyn to visit my older brother. My brothers are wise and always thought provoking. On Saturday we went for a six-mile walk around Manhattan and Brooklyn. We stopped by Zuccotti Park to witness the Occupy Wall Street movement. It was awesome to see people who are so passionate about an issue and are actively pursuing change. It’s a real kick in the ass to get moving towards doing more meaningful things. We then made our way to Ground Zero. I had not been to this area since 9.11 and it was important to me that I get there. We didn’t get to see the actual memorial, since we didn’t get tickets, but it was moving nonetheless. Not surprisingly, I was emotionally overwhelmed by the sight of the holes in the ground. The sheer size of the void in the urban landscape was the kind of thing I had to see to really feel.
It was critical that I remind myself of the work this country still has ahead of it. I’m not so naïve to think that the US is all roses and rainbows, though my experiences down in New Orleans certainly painted a beautiful portrait. The unbelievable differences and divisive views that led to 9.11 and, to a lesser extent, the current political climate and the economic crisis still exist and can be discouraging. But it also reaffirms my desire to do something to attempt to begin to bridge these gaps and increase understanding. After all, we are all almost human beings; at least we have that in common. As the Beatles said, “All you need is love, love, love is all you need.” And even if this isn’t true, isn’t it a beautiful idea?
You all are wonderful.
Xo
e
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Back Home, Part 1
Let me preface this post by saying, I suck at blogging. I am fully aware of this fact. Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest I can begin this latest update. My wrap-up of my New Orleans experience will most certainly require more than one post, but I need to get something on paper while my memories are fresh.
The first leg of my year’s journey is over. I got back to Jamaica Plain two days ago and am still in a Nyquil induced haze, so I hope I am able to articulate my feelings on my three weeks in New Orleans. In previous posts I have tried to limit the corniness of my writing, but there is no way I can sum up my time in LA without being over the top sentimental and cheesy. I had a superlatively phenomenal time in New Orleans. It’s hard for me to even believe that a. it really happened and that b. it’s over. My heart has been opened up and will never be the same.
My final week at Mrs. Jones’ house flew by. We laid down the floors on the second floor and I began refurbishing the old, antique windows for the front of the house that she had requested be put back in. The brain cells I lost from the lead paint scraping was totally worth the fact that I was fulfilling a request by the home owner. Not to brag or anything, but I have say that any HGTV show would be lucky to have me. My laminate floors were a thing of beauty (just nod, Joshy).. By the end of my last day the kitchen cabinets had been installed, the lights were being installed and the house was really starting to come together and look close to ready. I am so grateful to the St. Bernard Project, and especially Adam, for placing me at the same house for my three weeks of service. I am honored that I was able to be a (very small) part of getting that place ready for Mrs. Jones and her two kids. I obviously forgot to take pictures, but I will hopefully be getting some sent to me soon and will post photos of the house asap.
As anticipated, this trip was more than just about rebuilding tangible houses, it was about rebuilding/building upon my heart, soul and mind and it definitely delivered on this front. I was beyond anxious before leaving Boston. Going to a strange city where I knew no one was definitely out of my comfort zone. It was most certainly sink or swim, with sinking meaning being a recluse at Camp Hope for the three weeks, making friends with stray cats (wait a minute…) My experience certainly wasn’t perfect and there are absolutely things I would have done differently if given a second chance, but it was pretty darn fantastic.
A few things I learned:
1. Though I am calling this trip the “Living and Loving Tour” I am discovering that it is ok not to love everyone I meet. My goal is to be open to any and all, but there are inevitably going to be to people whom I would rather not love and this is acceptable. That being said I love 95% of the people I met on this trip. There are some real gems out there and I feel lucky to have been surrounded by such amazing human beings.
2. Things have the ability to get weird, and get weird fast. No need to get specific on this one, but a good life lesson. Sometimes weird is good, sometimes not.
3. Be aggressive, b.e. aggressive. b.e.a.g.g.r.e.s.s.i.v.e. aggressive. Who knew this dumb cheer from middle school soccer would teach me so much. Josh and I really did it and are still doing it.
4. When you start craving/needing a drive through bloody mary at 10 in the morning you know you have a problem, listen to your body.
5. There seems to be a law in New Orleans that requires the city to hold at least two kick-ass free concerts a week. This should be a law everywhere.
There are many, many more things to say, but these will have to be kept until the next post, my add is kicking in and I am no longer able to sit still at the computer…..
Live
Love
e
Saturday, October 8, 2011
The Sloth is my totem animal, what's yours?!
I have written too many somber and serious blog posts since I’ve been here. Obviously there are a lot of heavy topics that are brought up when doing rebuilding work, but, this being New Orleans, there have also been ridiculous moments along the way.
Almost every day on my way to the house I pass a billboard that says, “New Orleans: We live to eat.” And that right there sums up how New Orleans views food, they don’t eat to live, they live to eat. Boston folks be forewarned, that will not be a fat suit I’m wearing for Halloween when I get back, so don’t ask me to take it off. That billboard should also include “We live to drink, plentifully, everywhere and anywhere.” The open container laws and lax feelings towards public consumption continue to shock me. A friend of mine was looking to buy a flask and realized nobody knows what that is down here because you don’t need to be inconspicuous while drinking; people literally walk down the street carrying a whole bottle of booze. As I mentioned in a prior post, drive through daiquiri spots are completely normal here. As long as you don’t put the straw into your cup while you are driving, then you are not breaking any laws. But if one pops off the top, takes a big gulp of their “Antifreeze, high octane, tastes like gasoline Daiquiri” and then puts the top back on without compromising the seal of the straw hole, then there is no proof that they have broken the law. Just last night I found myself sitting in the bed of a moving pick up truck (I happened to “know’ the driver, having met him on Thursday, and he assured me he had checked the laws, and it is, in fact, legal to ride in truck beds in Louisiana. Weird given how strict the rest of the laws are in this state…..) drinking a bloody mary cocktail out of a Styrofoam cup. And last night was a low-key night.
Some other highlights of the trip so far:
-Swamp touring it up with Big Troy, the Cajun Encounters’ guide, who left a budding football career to come back to the swamp where he grew up to give tours. He got some of the gators to jump out of the water, I got to hold a baby gator AND I got a glow-in-the-dark Cajun Encounters wristband. WORTH IT. I was actually surprised by the beauty of the swamp. The trees with the Spanish moss hanging down, the green carpet of algae (even if it is an invasive species, it still looks nice) and the stillness of the back swamp set an exquisite scene. Troy’s decision to come back made a bit more sense to me after those two glorious hours.
-25 ¢ martinis at Commander’s Palace. I’m guessing this is how wealthy Southerners roll: work from 9-12, go to Commander’s Palace, proceed to drink 25 ¢ martinis over a long, decadent lunch, take the rest of the afternoon “off” in a drunken stupor. Though I would never be able to hang with this schedule, it was fun to check this out.
-Arts for Arts Sake. This is a kick-off to New Orleans art season that takes place the first Saturday in October. They shut down Julia Street, open up all the galleries and have food and drink stands scattered throughout. 2 thumbs up to drinking wine, while pretending to be an art connoisseur.
-Seeing the Lagniappe Brass Band at Tipitina’s (thanks to Jess!) Getting to check out some sweet tunes in a legendary music spot wasn’t too bad, neither were the the hula hoopers that accompanied the opening act. Also, this was the night I tried to find out some friends’ totem animals, which led to confusion as they had never really heard of this, or just had never thought of it. Mine is the sloth, not because I’m lazy (though sometimes I certainly can be), but because a sloth face brings so much joy into my life. http://www.fupenguin.com/2008/12/laziest-animal-ever.html Look at that face! If I can bring/share half as much joy into this world as that face brings into mine then my life will be successful. Well done, sloth.
-Checking out live music on Frenchmen St., having a few beverages, giving away big bills to travelling kids with dogs and being asked if we wanted to “hop a train” with them. No thank you, but I appreciate the invite.
This is the soundtrack to my life:
I haven’t been able to listen to any other CDs because I simply haven’t had enough time in my car, but they will serve me well on my subsequent long rides. WWOZ, 90.7, has been my soundtrack. Good tunes and copious amounts of fried, fatty foods, New Orleans, you win.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
A New Post!
Writing a blog is hard. Much, much more difficult than I imagined. Now that it's been over a week since I last wrote, I have too many things to write about and not an extensive enough vocabulary to adequately describe my experiences. I have used the words incredible, amazing, and awesome and their synonyms so many times in this blog; I have exhausted my ability to translate all the things I'm seeing and doing into a semi-meaningful paragraph. But I obviously can't just give up on this blog; I'm way too stubborn to do that, so anyone that chooses to continue to read this will just have to bear with me. I promise I'm trying.
The past week I've been plugging away on Mrs. Jones' house. We've painted, sanded, put peel & stick tile in the bathroom, installed baseboards and framed the windows. The house looks amazing (except, obviously, the parts that I've been directly involved with, but I do put in 100% heart and love.) Each day I'm here I notice or realize effects of the storm that I had never thought about. I had been so focused on the physical effects of Katrina, and the rebuilding that needed to be done that I seldom thought about the mental rebuilding that also needs attention. I realized that Mrs. Jones' son, Paul, has lived in a constant state of change since he was 4 years old. He has not had a permanent place to call home since 2005. The fact that I've worked with kids makes it totally embarrassing that I never put much thought into this until the last few weeks. Mrs. Jones told me that Paul has had some rough years in school, especially this year, but that she’s doing her best (I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but this woman is super human.) While I am positive that she is an amazing mother and Paul is incredibly blessed to have her, the amount of uncertainty in his life is mind-boggling. Mrs. Jones promised me I would get to meet Paul before I left and I’m hoping to raise some money to buy him/the whole family a new computer as a welcome home gift. (If any of you reading this are interested in donating a buck or two to this side project, be in touch!)
I also have had an incredibly hard time wrapping my head around the amount of water that entered the city. I’ve seen and heard multiple times about the quantitative number that entered various houses, but for a Cambridge girl who’s only seen an inch or two flood the basement it is difficult to grasp exactly what this amount of flooding amounts to. I mentioned this to Ms. Denise, how hard it was for me to visualize how it was around here during and immediately after Katrina and she asked if I’d watched any Katrina YouTube videos. I have never been into YouTube videos and generally delete any and all emails/ignore Facebook posts that include links to videos (unless they have to do with sloths, honey badgers or making fun of yuppies), so I had never seen a Katrina Youtube video. Ms. Denise shared with me a video that was so powerful I feel compelled to share it here. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZi1Mk2Njtg This is a home v video taken by one of her neighbors who lived through the hurricane. When I watched it all I could think was where in the middle of the ocean during a storm had this videographer found themselves? Except it wasn’t in the ocean at all, it was in St. Bernard Parish (the Parish). Ms. Denise showed me this video and proceeded to tell me stories about the people who stayed behind. For respect for those who lost their lives I would rather not recite verbatim what Ms. Denise told me, nevertheless what this area went through after the storm and after the levees broke was horrifying and beyond comprehension. The vitality that continues to exist in this city is overwhelming and inspiring.
There are so many other heavy issues I’ve begun to deal with concerning this area, but instead of delving into those now, I’d rather just acknowledge the weirdness/individuality that is Louisiana and New Orleans in particular. Drive through daiquiri joints are commonplace and you’re good as long as you don’t put a straw in the drink while driving..Obviously open containers are cool, but also many workplaces allow drinking on the job. Streets that should be one way are two way, with parking on both sides, and tough shit if your side mirror gets knocked off. It’s always five o’clock somewhere. 25 cent martinis on a weekday are not just for tourists, they’re also for businessmen and women, respectable community members and the older generations.
At some point, hopefully sooner rather than later, I will be able to transcribe my full experience in this city. For now my goal has been to live and love and try to keep up with writing, which has been considerably unsuccessful. I have been utterly consumed by all this community has to offer and I continue to be emotionally overwhelmed by the hearts and souls of others I’ve met along the way.
Happy trails and continue to love any and all.
xoxo
The past week I've been plugging away on Mrs. Jones' house. We've painted, sanded, put peel & stick tile in the bathroom, installed baseboards and framed the windows. The house looks amazing (except, obviously, the parts that I've been directly involved with, but I do put in 100% heart and love.) Each day I'm here I notice or realize effects of the storm that I had never thought about. I had been so focused on the physical effects of Katrina, and the rebuilding that needed to be done that I seldom thought about the mental rebuilding that also needs attention. I realized that Mrs. Jones' son, Paul, has lived in a constant state of change since he was 4 years old. He has not had a permanent place to call home since 2005. The fact that I've worked with kids makes it totally embarrassing that I never put much thought into this until the last few weeks. Mrs. Jones told me that Paul has had some rough years in school, especially this year, but that she’s doing her best (I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but this woman is super human.) While I am positive that she is an amazing mother and Paul is incredibly blessed to have her, the amount of uncertainty in his life is mind-boggling. Mrs. Jones promised me I would get to meet Paul before I left and I’m hoping to raise some money to buy him/the whole family a new computer as a welcome home gift. (If any of you reading this are interested in donating a buck or two to this side project, be in touch!)
I also have had an incredibly hard time wrapping my head around the amount of water that entered the city. I’ve seen and heard multiple times about the quantitative number that entered various houses, but for a Cambridge girl who’s only seen an inch or two flood the basement it is difficult to grasp exactly what this amount of flooding amounts to. I mentioned this to Ms. Denise, how hard it was for me to visualize how it was around here during and immediately after Katrina and she asked if I’d watched any Katrina YouTube videos. I have never been into YouTube videos and generally delete any and all emails/ignore Facebook posts that include links to videos (unless they have to do with sloths, honey badgers or making fun of yuppies), so I had never seen a Katrina Youtube video. Ms. Denise shared with me a video that was so powerful I feel compelled to share it here. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZi1Mk2Njtg This is a home v video taken by one of her neighbors who lived through the hurricane. When I watched it all I could think was where in the middle of the ocean during a storm had this videographer found themselves? Except it wasn’t in the ocean at all, it was in St. Bernard Parish (the Parish). Ms. Denise showed me this video and proceeded to tell me stories about the people who stayed behind. For respect for those who lost their lives I would rather not recite verbatim what Ms. Denise told me, nevertheless what this area went through after the storm and after the levees broke was horrifying and beyond comprehension. The vitality that continues to exist in this city is overwhelming and inspiring.
There are so many other heavy issues I’ve begun to deal with concerning this area, but instead of delving into those now, I’d rather just acknowledge the weirdness/individuality that is Louisiana and New Orleans in particular. Drive through daiquiri joints are commonplace and you’re good as long as you don’t put a straw in the drink while driving..Obviously open containers are cool, but also many workplaces allow drinking on the job. Streets that should be one way are two way, with parking on both sides, and tough shit if your side mirror gets knocked off. It’s always five o’clock somewhere. 25 cent martinis on a weekday are not just for tourists, they’re also for businessmen and women, respectable community members and the older generations.
At some point, hopefully sooner rather than later, I will be able to transcribe my full experience in this city. For now my goal has been to live and love and try to keep up with writing, which has been considerably unsuccessful. I have been utterly consumed by all this community has to offer and I continue to be emotionally overwhelmed by the hearts and souls of others I’ve met along the way.
Happy trails and continue to love any and all.
xoxo
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Mrs. Jones & Me
The living and loving tour has officially begun! Monday was my first day of service with Saint Bernard Project and it's been tiring, but incredibly awesome. I reported for duty at the SBP office wearing a crisp new(!) men's Hanes white v-neck, or as it's otherwise known, my uniform, and was ready to go. Travelling alone has made me far more outgoing, but given that I also have a tendency to be awkward, I have molded into a creeper at times. Monty, a local volunteer, was sitting next to me at the new volunteer orientation and as soon as I found out that we would be working at the same site I proclaimed that we would be like family after that day (it's become a troubling theme during my travels.) I think he moved as far away from me as he possibly could. So basically I got off to an amazing start!
Saint Bernard Project was created soon after Katrina, when a teacher and a lawyer came down to New Orleans, saw a need and filled it. I'm not going to write out their whole elevator speech, but check them out at http://www.stbernardproject.org/. They gave me directions to the house I would working on and a short bio on the homeowner, Mrs. Mary Jones. Her and her ten year old son have been living all over since the hurricane hit with family members and friends, and SBP is trying to get their house ready by Christmas (her 20 year old daughter, who is in college, will also be living in the two bedroom house.) I liked that SBP had prepared a little background information about the homeowner, so that even if I didn't get to meet her I would still feel a connection with the project and the human behind the house. The only downside to all of this was that I would not be working in "The Parish" (according to the fam aka Rob and Jaime, St. Bernard Parish is known by this name) but instead in mid city New Orleans. But off I went.
Little did I know that I would be meeting my new bestie and site supervisor, Josh from Mizzou. SBP has Americorps members whom they train and station at each project to be the volunteer overseer. I haven't meet any of the other site supervisors yet (and they're probably great because, come on, they're Americorps), but I think I lucked out with Joshy, he's a solid dude. There were only two other volunteers on Monday, so it was a cozy, small crowd at Alexander St. that day. The house has been under construction for a while now, so by the time I arrived it was time to finish priming the walls and apply the paint. So for the last three days I've primed, painted and today, unfortunately, had the pleasure of sanding our painting mistakes.. My favorite part about all of this, besides the obvious pleasure of helping a deserving person return home, is that I get to meet interesting people from all over who come to volunteer. I've realized just how un-interesting I really am. Once I accumulate enough stories I'll write a blog post dedicated to everyone else's amazing lives.
I also got to meet Mrs. Jones yesterday, and after meeting her, I'm being completely sincere, it is a total honor that I get to work on her house. She is warm, inviting, grateful, funny and classy all at once. She has worked for the city of New Orleans for the last fifteen years, and her love for the city is obvious. She told us and showed us how high the water had reached in her house, and a little bit about where she's been. It is always a privilege to get to meet the person you're working for, and she is so deserving of all the help she is receiving. Her story is especially heartbreaking, and apparently not too uncommon, because she received $120,000 from the government to rebuild her home after Katrina only to have it stolen by a fradulant contractor. This is a such a common story around here that when I relayed this information on to Rob and Jaime they weren't even surprised, but told me other similar stories. I was completely unaware of how large a problem this was, and possibly still is. Though this trip overall is growing my faith in the human race, stories like that knock my optimism down a few pegs. But Mrs. Jones didn't even mention this (I heard from another volunteer,) and her resiliency was astounding. She's been so patient for the last six years, just waiting to move home. I damn well better make that sanding perfect.
Sidenote: Yesterday I worked with a group from E.W. Scripps, the group that sponsors the National Spelling Bee! "Spellbound" is one of my favorite movies, and I obviously watched the Bee this year (maybe not so obviously given my terrible spelling.) Some of them are front row fixtures at the Bee, this was like a celebrity encounter for me!
This is the soundtrack to my life:
Due to a lack of CD player at the work site my progress through my Cds has slowed a bit. Nonetheless, thanks to: Sar Car and BamBam's for providing me with music on my commute to and from Mrs. Jones'
Below is a link to a very recent MSNBC clip with Mrs. Jones and her son. They're standing in their house, so in addition to seeing who I'm working for, you'll get to catch a glimpse of my surroundings. Ch-ch-check it out.
http://ed.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2011/08/31/7548214-driving-progress-st-bernard-project
LOVE
Saint Bernard Project was created soon after Katrina, when a teacher and a lawyer came down to New Orleans, saw a need and filled it. I'm not going to write out their whole elevator speech, but check them out at http://www.stbernardproject.org/. They gave me directions to the house I would working on and a short bio on the homeowner, Mrs. Mary Jones. Her and her ten year old son have been living all over since the hurricane hit with family members and friends, and SBP is trying to get their house ready by Christmas (her 20 year old daughter, who is in college, will also be living in the two bedroom house.) I liked that SBP had prepared a little background information about the homeowner, so that even if I didn't get to meet her I would still feel a connection with the project and the human behind the house. The only downside to all of this was that I would not be working in "The Parish" (according to the fam aka Rob and Jaime, St. Bernard Parish is known by this name) but instead in mid city New Orleans. But off I went.
Little did I know that I would be meeting my new bestie and site supervisor, Josh from Mizzou. SBP has Americorps members whom they train and station at each project to be the volunteer overseer. I haven't meet any of the other site supervisors yet (and they're probably great because, come on, they're Americorps), but I think I lucked out with Joshy, he's a solid dude. There were only two other volunteers on Monday, so it was a cozy, small crowd at Alexander St. that day. The house has been under construction for a while now, so by the time I arrived it was time to finish priming the walls and apply the paint. So for the last three days I've primed, painted and today, unfortunately, had the pleasure of sanding our painting mistakes.. My favorite part about all of this, besides the obvious pleasure of helping a deserving person return home, is that I get to meet interesting people from all over who come to volunteer. I've realized just how un-interesting I really am. Once I accumulate enough stories I'll write a blog post dedicated to everyone else's amazing lives.
I also got to meet Mrs. Jones yesterday, and after meeting her, I'm being completely sincere, it is a total honor that I get to work on her house. She is warm, inviting, grateful, funny and classy all at once. She has worked for the city of New Orleans for the last fifteen years, and her love for the city is obvious. She told us and showed us how high the water had reached in her house, and a little bit about where she's been. It is always a privilege to get to meet the person you're working for, and she is so deserving of all the help she is receiving. Her story is especially heartbreaking, and apparently not too uncommon, because she received $120,000 from the government to rebuild her home after Katrina only to have it stolen by a fradulant contractor. This is a such a common story around here that when I relayed this information on to Rob and Jaime they weren't even surprised, but told me other similar stories. I was completely unaware of how large a problem this was, and possibly still is. Though this trip overall is growing my faith in the human race, stories like that knock my optimism down a few pegs. But Mrs. Jones didn't even mention this (I heard from another volunteer,) and her resiliency was astounding. She's been so patient for the last six years, just waiting to move home. I damn well better make that sanding perfect.
Sidenote: Yesterday I worked with a group from E.W. Scripps, the group that sponsors the National Spelling Bee! "Spellbound" is one of my favorite movies, and I obviously watched the Bee this year (maybe not so obviously given my terrible spelling.) Some of them are front row fixtures at the Bee, this was like a celebrity encounter for me!
This is the soundtrack to my life:
Due to a lack of CD player at the work site my progress through my Cds has slowed a bit. Nonetheless, thanks to: Sar Car and BamBam's for providing me with music on my commute to and from Mrs. Jones'
Below is a link to a very recent MSNBC clip with Mrs. Jones and her son. They're standing in their house, so in addition to seeing who I'm working for, you'll get to catch a glimpse of my surroundings. Ch-ch-check it out.
http://ed.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2011/08/31/7548214-driving-progress-st-bernard-project
LOVE
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Welcome to the Dirty
Yesterday I arrived in New Orleans, or to be exact, Arabi, LA. What a two days it's been. As I drove through Alabama and then into Mississippi I found myself feeling incredibly nervous, but as the great Miley Cyrus puts it, "So I put my hands up, they're playing my song/ The butterflies fly away." I'm so glad I got to quote Miley, I can check that off my bucket list now.
Pulling up to my volunteer camp/my home for the next 3 weeks I was feeling excited. As fun as driving as been, my body was ready to take a break from sitting for 8 hours a day. Rob and Jaime greeted me at Camp Hope, they are locals who help the director of the facility. Camp Hope is an old school that was flooded and shut down, due to Katrina. It was cleaned up and transformed into volunteer housing shortly after the hurricane. As one can imagine, it's a HUGE facility, the largest volunteer housing facility in the US. As Rob was showing me around it seemed awfully quiet for a building that can house over 400 people. I casually asked him how many people were staying here at the moment. "You," was his answer. WAIT, WHAT?!... My stomach dropped when I heard this. I know I need to work on being alone, but living in a middle school by myself was not something I had envisioned when planning this trip. During my drive I was picturing an evening hanging out with all the new friends I planned on making at Camp Hope, not sitting alone in a cavernous bunk room. I was literally on the verge of tears as I got back into my car to grab something to eat.
It's a good thing I didn't do what I immediately wanted to do, which was find a hotel room in the city for last night until I could figure out where else I could stay. Instead, I got it together, grew up and drove myself back to Camp Hope. I spent the rest of the evening hanging with Rob, listening to his stories about his life, stories that, as he puts it, "would make a great movie." Like how he drove 100 mph on the shoulder of Interstate 10 to get out of New Orleans 12 hours before Katrina hit, and how he used to be the best underground fighter in NO. Now I don't know how many of these stories were true, but I appreciated hearing about the area and the storm from a local person who was and still is deeply affected by Katrina.
My feelings today when I woke up and drove around the area a bit more, hitting up the French Market and going on a swamp tour (!) were completely opposite from how I felt less than 24 hours ago. Camp Hope is in St. Bernard Parish, right on the line with the Lower Ninth Ward. I'm glad I'm staying in the area where I will be doing the volunteering, I want to meet my neighbors and the locals, not other tourists and boozebags from out of town here for bachelor/bachelorette parties. I won't be volunteering and then returning to higher ground (literally and figuratively.) I love where I'm staying, I love the southern way of life around here and I'm beginning to love this city. I'm enjoying my "single" room filled with 400 beds and (this probably freaks them out) I'm calling Rob and Jaime my new family.
As I returned home today from gator hunting I noticed the houses on CH's street still had the spray painted numbers from the searches after Katrina. There is still so much work to be done around here. I might never leave.
This is the soundtrack to my life:
Thanks to: Ryan W., Leah S., Miss Kelly C., Amy W., Sarah P.
Pulling up to my volunteer camp/my home for the next 3 weeks I was feeling excited. As fun as driving as been, my body was ready to take a break from sitting for 8 hours a day. Rob and Jaime greeted me at Camp Hope, they are locals who help the director of the facility. Camp Hope is an old school that was flooded and shut down, due to Katrina. It was cleaned up and transformed into volunteer housing shortly after the hurricane. As one can imagine, it's a HUGE facility, the largest volunteer housing facility in the US. As Rob was showing me around it seemed awfully quiet for a building that can house over 400 people. I casually asked him how many people were staying here at the moment. "You," was his answer. WAIT, WHAT?!... My stomach dropped when I heard this. I know I need to work on being alone, but living in a middle school by myself was not something I had envisioned when planning this trip. During my drive I was picturing an evening hanging out with all the new friends I planned on making at Camp Hope, not sitting alone in a cavernous bunk room. I was literally on the verge of tears as I got back into my car to grab something to eat.
It's a good thing I didn't do what I immediately wanted to do, which was find a hotel room in the city for last night until I could figure out where else I could stay. Instead, I got it together, grew up and drove myself back to Camp Hope. I spent the rest of the evening hanging with Rob, listening to his stories about his life, stories that, as he puts it, "would make a great movie." Like how he drove 100 mph on the shoulder of Interstate 10 to get out of New Orleans 12 hours before Katrina hit, and how he used to be the best underground fighter in NO. Now I don't know how many of these stories were true, but I appreciated hearing about the area and the storm from a local person who was and still is deeply affected by Katrina.
My feelings today when I woke up and drove around the area a bit more, hitting up the French Market and going on a swamp tour (!) were completely opposite from how I felt less than 24 hours ago. Camp Hope is in St. Bernard Parish, right on the line with the Lower Ninth Ward. I'm glad I'm staying in the area where I will be doing the volunteering, I want to meet my neighbors and the locals, not other tourists and boozebags from out of town here for bachelor/bachelorette parties. I won't be volunteering and then returning to higher ground (literally and figuratively.) I love where I'm staying, I love the southern way of life around here and I'm beginning to love this city. I'm enjoying my "single" room filled with 400 beds and (this probably freaks them out) I'm calling Rob and Jaime my new family.
As I returned home today from gator hunting I noticed the houses on CH's street still had the spray painted numbers from the searches after Katrina. There is still so much work to be done around here. I might never leave.
This is the soundtrack to my life:
Thanks to: Ryan W., Leah S., Miss Kelly C., Amy W., Sarah P.
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