Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Day Four: the end.

Today was the last day. Impossible not to be conscious of it, so I didn't try. I needed to focus on what my heart might long for once I get back home to New York that I hadn't managed to see. I made it to the sculpture garden and the museum, took pictures of the old Falstaf brewery (which is apparently being turned into condos now), visited the big blue elephant on Causeway right by W. Metairie. I ate breadsticks at Reginelli's on Magazine. I had an iced tea at the Fair Grinds coffee house by the race track - one of my all time favorite places in the city, and in doing so got pictures of Liuzza's by the Track which is now open again.

I am so torn - seemingly between two half lives. One here that I never got quite right, that got taken away before I could really get it together. One there that may have been together at some point but is in somewhat of a shambles now, and yet is teetering on the edge of falling magnificently back into place with the fulfillment that one enormous missing piece known as gainful employment.

New York, though, is a city not hobbling along on crutches. Is a place where young people flock for opportunities, as opposed to New Orleans which has always driven them out in droves due to lack of such. If you can find your niche here, this is an absolutely wonderful place to be... weather permitting. But finding that niche, particularly without the right connections or immaculate luck, can be all but impossible.

I have been daydreaming about buying a house off of Prytania, or maybe Orleans. An Orleans house is a commitment though, what with the parades and the Christmas Tree bonfire on New Year's - you have to be prepared to be a party house. My house usually doesn't fit that description. Maybe somewhere else in Mid-City though, somewhere off of Bayou St. John, or even off the upper part of Esplanade. There was a two-bedroom for rent on Maurepas for $9xx as advertised on a flyer at the Fair Grinds. Now if I could just get get around that pesky problem of not being able to make more than $8 an hour here.

And then of course there is my darling Jonathan, who cannot think of a place more suitable for living than New York City. Or another place that's even passable, come to think of it. I don't think New Orleans is really in his list of options - there's actually only one entry on that list and this ain't it. Who knows, of course. Everything could be different five years from now; he could want to move, or I could want to not. There are things to be done first, for sure. Like get married.

Ah, getting married. I'm doing that I think. It's what I hear. Apparently my aunt and uncle are all set to make the trip north - I was sure they'd be a pass. They'd be quite disappointed if there was no wedding after all. Of course, I'm not sure what they'll think of the kind of wedding I'll end up with. But assuming I have one it will be recognizable as a party, and presumably that's really all they need. They're not fancy people.

Life is too complicated. Tomorrow I return to the chaos I've created; therapy Thursday, coffee shop Friday and Saturday, and then the vast empty void of the job search and endless uncertainty. Grand, just grand. But one thing is sure: tomorrow night I will be sleeping in Jonathan's arms again. Whatever else a place might be, it can't be "home" unless he's there.

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