10 September 2005

homesick

these are the things that i miss. i miss being around my family. i miss knowing where i'm going to be tomorrow, next week, a month from now. i miss brushing my teeth at night, walking to the cd player to turn on mazzy star. i miss driving. i miss escaping to my apartment. i miss the pictures on the walls, me and rachel at the st. patrick's day parade, baby isabel, florence. i miss my sister. i miss my books, my journals, the pink chinese one especially and the black leather one with tiny lines. my photo albums. i miss the theater. rehearsals. i miss my auquamarine birthday necklace and my orange coat. i miss going downstairs to smoke and following him to work in the mornings. i miss our little life, that is what i miss the most.

day 15

the truth? i've always hated chalmette. always. but i never thought it would cease to be there. always thought it would remain, a godforsaken marker of where i come from. a reminder. who's from a place that no longer exists? it's ridiculous. i always thought that i would leave, but i never thought that there would be nothing to go back to.

without your past you are nothing. that's what i feel like. i see these people on tv. i'm lost, he said. it's heartbreaking. we are throwaway people, the girl said. the forgotten parishes, cnn said. i have to remind myself that they are talking about me too.

05 September 2005

i want to go home

for the first time in over a week, i am alone. i am sitting in a hotel room. for the first time in my life, i am alone in my own hotel room. i miss my family. it's been years since i've gone this long without seeing them. and knowing that i have no car for now, no way to get there to them, makes it so much worse.

after a week of searching the internet for lost loved ones, parish news, and fema, i read my favorite blogs. after endless days of katrina on cnn, i have etv turned on the television. i picked up a cosmo magazine for the hot new sex tips headline. but it isn't working. i'm at that point at the end of the trip, when you just want to go home. when you want your bed, your crappy house, your own bathroom. you just want home. that's where i am, and there is no home to go back to. it really sucks.

and yes, i know how lucky i am to be alive.

what a week

what a week. that's all i can say. things have changed so so so much, it's still pretty unfathomable to me. the last year has been a journey, i was learning the unimportance of material things, the importance of letting go and moving on and change. Of making the best of the situation, of living for yourself, of not caring what people think, and of following my heart. of Believing in what is right for me and not what people say is right. of just doing what feels right.

this last year has so prepared me for this last week. when i moved out of my house, i left him all of the furniture. i lived there for five months, in my little apartment that i loved so much, with a twin bed, bare windows and floors, and two cushions to sit on in the living room. and i loved the birds outside of the window, the view of the spanish tiled roof next door, the old stairway and double entryway. people either thought i was selfless or stupid for leaving everything, but it was neither. i knew that all that "stuff" wasn't important to me but was very important to him. i tried to do the best for everyone in a situation that wasn't my fault, but wasn't his either. after four months, I bought a little red sofa that i adored. i got my signed poster from tokyo hotel framed, along with my undergraduate degree that i finally finished in may. i hung them up a few weeks ago along with some old pictures of when my grandma and grandpa were young, my sister and i dressed up for mardi gras, and the marker line drawing bell made for me.

I'm digressing. I can barely remember which day it is, much less stick to one thought. So, now i have nothing. I left last Saturday for a one or two day trip to the lake. I packed a few bathing suits, shorts, jeans and t-shirts. I brought essentially nothing. i didn't even drive my own car. and now, that's it. i've been living since the hurricane with my friend's parents, sleeping on their sofa. they have been so wonderfully kind and welcoming, which i knew from the first few times we've met. things are so unimportant. everything's gone, my work, my home, the theater, everything i've ever known.

my family, who are in another state, has lost everything. my father, a kind, strong, brave man, wakes up at night after dreaming of the horror in the hosptial that he barely escaped from. for three days, i waited for his calls, prayed that he would be evacated and come safely home, in the new sense of the word since we are actually homeless. some of his crew left, he said, but he stayed behind because of his "obligation" to the patients. he reached a point where he thought that brave decision might have been the worse mistake of his life. he sounds broken, now when i talk to him, it kills me. he sounds like a zombie... telling the same story over and over. my father who was always the rock of the family, who still has to figure out a life for my mom, sister, brother, niece, has to pull some semblance of a life together while for the first time homeless, jobless, and severely underinsured. for me, it's scary, but liberating, exciting, the start of something new. for him, it's scary and utterly devastating. the uprooting may be worse than the mental trauma.

i've cried so many times over this last week, but not anywhere close to what I would have thought. i've tried to be strong, do what i can, help where i could, and sound ok for the sake of my family. i've felt so helpless, but tried to act so strong. maybe it worked, i don't know. it's so strange to see the place you've lived your entire life completely devastated. it's strange, sad, everything in one. it's heartbreaking. but at the same time, i feel so incredibly lucky that everyone is alive and physically safe, although i am worried--my family was barely making it mentally and emotionally as it were, before natural disasters destroying everything.

bell wants to know where her toys are, where her nana is, when her house can stop "swimming" so she can go home. i never dreamed that i wouldn't see her on her third birthday. it broke my heart. i called to tell her happy birthday; she answered the phone and said i don't want to talk. it broke my heart. they were living in a hotel room. twelve people in one room. the restaurant next door gave them free lunch. they gave bell a cake, and a little party. they gave my mom a walmart certificate to buy her a present. it just breaks my heart. you just never think this will happen.

17 July 2005

weekends

Things I've learned from having my own apartment:
*Saving a few dollars on the electric bill isn't worth leaving the air conditions off.
*People will tell you otherwise, but you really don't need a sofa. or a land line phone, or cable, although i would like an internet connection again.
*Dead roaches can't hurt you.
*I love being alone, but I'd rather be with him than alone.

I love weekends like this. in bed reading the Alchemy of the Heavens. Did you know our bodies are actually made of stars, how romantic. This universe is amazing, so interconnected. Renting a girlie movie. Alfie. Grocery shopping makes me feel like this is a real apartment even though I only bought coffee, ice cream and toaster waffles. Visiting my niece for a little while, taking her swimming in our clothes because I forgot bathing suits. She pretended we were mermaids, i remember doing that with my sister when we were little, but i think we were older then. actually she pretended we were strawberry shortcake pretending she was a mermaid. a strawberry shortcake mermaid at school, there was counting involved. what a sweet darling child. i adore her so much. going to a friend's play. can't believe he wrote and directed it all by himself. i love that. and he comped my ticket saying i was a theater person. a theater person, me. i love that. love, love, love that. and at the bar, i got id'd! He stopped over for a minute. we sat on the porch smoking cigarettes. he left, called me to the car with the window open and kissed me. i still can't get over that kiss. and writing on my laptop. that is a perfect weekend.

12 July 2005

his email

my ex-boyfriend (think high school) says he still loves me. it makes me sad because i know how sometimes you cling to the past because you are unhappy with the present. he thinks i avoid him because i can't resist him. but that's not why. he wrote an email instead of calling. Now I know you good enough to know that you will not write back and that you will think that I need help. And if you do write back or call you'll tell me that I'm wrong. But I know that you do love me and that you can't ever stop thinking about what would have and should have been. but he's so wrong.

05 July 2005

change

weird things are happening to the world. the way i see things is changing, again. there's so much to figure out. and it all seems so important and yet so meaningless.