really long back information, part the first
i haven't really said anything about my life these past few months in nashville, so i will at this point. this is mostly for my benefit since i have a horrid memory as many of you know and i've actually already forgotten most of it. probably good, i have the future to think about, right? so here's some on my pre-immediately recent situation:
VANDERBILT UNIVERSITY
The storm left me highly optimistic in that deranged way you get when you lose something you love. I thought there was no way my apartment would be touched and that it would be a great opportunity to take some time off, maybe go on a trip, meet some new friends, work on my thesis. (The relaxation factor was gone once our house was filled with 7 people, including my sister's infamous birds and dogs and my grandmother with Alzheimer's who kept having explosive diarrhea all over the bathroom.) I didn't even realize that going to school in the meantime was an option until I got an update from Loyola saying all of the Jesuit schools in the nation were accepting us. I had my sights on Seattle University, since I've always wanted to (and still hope to) move there. I was all ready to pursue that since they are on the quarter system and I wouldn't have had to start late or anything when I was at a Goodwill buying some basic clothing (having packed two t shirts and some old pants, the usual for one of those "I'll be back in two days" evacuations) and I overheard someone talking about her son from Loyola who was going to go to Vanderbilt. Once I knew of this option I couldn't justify the extra expense on my family or the stress on my mother to go to Washington. So we went on Labor Day (which is a school day there, they're very proud of working through holidays it seems) and I was in class by the end of the day, no red tape, no nothing.
I enrolled in four classes but I was already so far behind that I couldn't keep the course load. This is a matter of great shame for me. The history class I dropped required me to have read two books and a paper was due the next week...both of these books were on back order and no where to be found and I was swamped with back work for my ancient cities and shakespearean sexualities courses (courses I needed for my degree) that I decided to audit the course and quit all together. I finished with two A-'s and B, also nothing I'm extremely proud of but I really did have a mental breakdown in the middle, all joking aside, and more on that later.
Vanderbilt is what I expected. Largely greek, WASP, conventional, bratty, spoiled students with every convenience you could imagine. The campus is huge and quite daunting. It took me weeks to find the three buildings I ever needed to access each time. They stuck the visiting students in a garage seven blocks from the farthest edge of campus, and Nashville is hilly, and I was hurting for a while.
I felt the need to really make an impression, or at least show that I was smart enough not to be daunted by the storm and do my work and raise my hand and be amicable to the dweebs there--broaden a few minds you know. I dressed like myself but nice, fixed my hair, wore makeup. The last month or so all that was out the window, but I expect I've always been that way. Teachers and administrators couldn't be nicer, and it seems like they genuinely are nice. Kids were either really helpful (would you like to borrow my notes from the past two weeks, here's my number if you get lost around here or want to have lunch with someone) or looked at me like I was a curiosity---they called us "Katrina students" officially in the registrar's office after all. They seemed to do their work, or at least fake it well, and the level of academic excellence was pretty decent. I had one honors course and it was quite good. I'm sure at every institution there's the joke course/teacher (I know at Loyola there's plenty) but I was lucky enough not to get one.
The campus was beautiful, the trees change colors like none other (we have seasons in Tennessee) and it's a national arboretum so it's like walking through a park all the time.
I made one friend there that I sort of lost touch with towards the end once I was busy with my new lover and just sick of everything. He really made me feel better about everything and was quite hospitable.
MY APARTMENT
Oh, back to the apartment.
When I heard from a relative who visited Metairie before I did that my apartment was kaput, he made it sound like I'd lost everything. Even that left me optimistic. I have way too much stuff--I had a two bedroom townhouse all to myself and it was full of stuff. I'd hoped I'd lose a lot for a fresh start...is that wrong of me? When David and I did finally go down I was mostly relieved to be able to pack up my own stuff...there was a lot of talk about relatives doing it for me because of the mold hazards, etc and there was a lot of things in there I didn't want family to see. I had nightmares about it..it was really a stressful notion. We got there and I was shocked and sort of amused by the situation. My roof caved in and the downstairs got water. But mostly it was the roof that was the trouble because it meant both floors got wet and the downstairs furniture, etc was all ruined. I lost all my furniture, appliances, and a lot of random things. A lot of things I just threw out or left because I have too much stuff. My relative had already bagged up all my wet clothes so all of that was fine. What hurt most was all of my writing and much of my artwork was gone. Also, I still cannot locate much of my research that's vital for my thesis. The problem there was that there was David, myself, my father, and his business partner all packing. Someone else got to my books (probably the one thing I wanted to handle myself) and so we'll see when I unpack. With four adults it took 10 hours to pack my house. It's all stored at my sister's now. My car was destroyed too. I got good insurance for it and good FEMA money (I almost feel bad saying that because I know so many of you have been fighting them, but chances are no one's reading this far anyway).
Social Life
the goth scene here is even stupider than the one in new orleans. everyone's of the mental age of 16 and the legal age of 18, and there's this weird phenomenon of face painting--like painting your face like a skull, or with just a bunch of crappy eyeliner designs all over yourself...? the club here meets on sundays and it's called nv. it's two stories and other nights it's other things that aren't goth friendly. there's a generally good-sized crowd and old skool is out. i started a bit of an anti oontz-oontz club in frank's honor to no avail.
i had a boyfriend for a few weeks. i was very distraught during this time...or at least beginning to be very distraught. you know those relationships you look back fondly on? and you know those ones you look back on and think, "what was i thinking?" i know what i was thinking with this one, but still, what was i thinking? we really weren't compatible, he lived two hours away, he had his own shit and pretty much all we ever talked about was his problems and how fucked up he thought i was. he had conditions. the first was monogamy. i know, woah. that's not me, especially for someone two hours away. but i never cheated. the second was giving up drugs. well i had no real contacts here anyway. but still, woah. and why i consented to this i still don't know. he had a twin brother who was even more of a twat than he turned out to be who verbally abused me. of course, since all of this i've learned what people in the "scene" really think of these two.
basically people here are as childish as they were when i was here as a child and teenager. in new orleans people give you different kind of shit. it's not about telling your friends who i've never met a bunch of lies about me and having them spread them to people i know. it's more direct or really just not at all in new orleans. or maybe i was just set with my friends enough not to notice or be affected by it. i never socialized with kids at school so all of this is basically scene stuff. i realize any scene is incestuous and ridiculous but fuck, i'm here for like three months, just leave me alone.
speaking of which, no one, save one person, tried to take me home. that's odd for a club, i don't care what you look like. and i think we'd agree i'm reasonably attractive. or maybe it was just me always taking people home at the dervish....
i made a good girlfriend and that kind of waned too, sadly. i'm not sure what happened. but she and i had some good times going out to eat and such and she was there for me.
That's plenty for now. More relevant and recent things to come.
VANDERBILT UNIVERSITY
The storm left me highly optimistic in that deranged way you get when you lose something you love. I thought there was no way my apartment would be touched and that it would be a great opportunity to take some time off, maybe go on a trip, meet some new friends, work on my thesis. (The relaxation factor was gone once our house was filled with 7 people, including my sister's infamous birds and dogs and my grandmother with Alzheimer's who kept having explosive diarrhea all over the bathroom.) I didn't even realize that going to school in the meantime was an option until I got an update from Loyola saying all of the Jesuit schools in the nation were accepting us. I had my sights on Seattle University, since I've always wanted to (and still hope to) move there. I was all ready to pursue that since they are on the quarter system and I wouldn't have had to start late or anything when I was at a Goodwill buying some basic clothing (having packed two t shirts and some old pants, the usual for one of those "I'll be back in two days" evacuations) and I overheard someone talking about her son from Loyola who was going to go to Vanderbilt. Once I knew of this option I couldn't justify the extra expense on my family or the stress on my mother to go to Washington. So we went on Labor Day (which is a school day there, they're very proud of working through holidays it seems) and I was in class by the end of the day, no red tape, no nothing.
I enrolled in four classes but I was already so far behind that I couldn't keep the course load. This is a matter of great shame for me. The history class I dropped required me to have read two books and a paper was due the next week...both of these books were on back order and no where to be found and I was swamped with back work for my ancient cities and shakespearean sexualities courses (courses I needed for my degree) that I decided to audit the course and quit all together. I finished with two A-'s and B, also nothing I'm extremely proud of but I really did have a mental breakdown in the middle, all joking aside, and more on that later.
Vanderbilt is what I expected. Largely greek, WASP, conventional, bratty, spoiled students with every convenience you could imagine. The campus is huge and quite daunting. It took me weeks to find the three buildings I ever needed to access each time. They stuck the visiting students in a garage seven blocks from the farthest edge of campus, and Nashville is hilly, and I was hurting for a while.
I felt the need to really make an impression, or at least show that I was smart enough not to be daunted by the storm and do my work and raise my hand and be amicable to the dweebs there--broaden a few minds you know. I dressed like myself but nice, fixed my hair, wore makeup. The last month or so all that was out the window, but I expect I've always been that way. Teachers and administrators couldn't be nicer, and it seems like they genuinely are nice. Kids were either really helpful (would you like to borrow my notes from the past two weeks, here's my number if you get lost around here or want to have lunch with someone) or looked at me like I was a curiosity---they called us "Katrina students" officially in the registrar's office after all. They seemed to do their work, or at least fake it well, and the level of academic excellence was pretty decent. I had one honors course and it was quite good. I'm sure at every institution there's the joke course/teacher (I know at Loyola there's plenty) but I was lucky enough not to get one.
The campus was beautiful, the trees change colors like none other (we have seasons in Tennessee) and it's a national arboretum so it's like walking through a park all the time.
I made one friend there that I sort of lost touch with towards the end once I was busy with my new lover and just sick of everything. He really made me feel better about everything and was quite hospitable.
MY APARTMENT
Oh, back to the apartment.
When I heard from a relative who visited Metairie before I did that my apartment was kaput, he made it sound like I'd lost everything. Even that left me optimistic. I have way too much stuff--I had a two bedroom townhouse all to myself and it was full of stuff. I'd hoped I'd lose a lot for a fresh start...is that wrong of me? When David and I did finally go down I was mostly relieved to be able to pack up my own stuff...there was a lot of talk about relatives doing it for me because of the mold hazards, etc and there was a lot of things in there I didn't want family to see. I had nightmares about it..it was really a stressful notion. We got there and I was shocked and sort of amused by the situation. My roof caved in and the downstairs got water. But mostly it was the roof that was the trouble because it meant both floors got wet and the downstairs furniture, etc was all ruined. I lost all my furniture, appliances, and a lot of random things. A lot of things I just threw out or left because I have too much stuff. My relative had already bagged up all my wet clothes so all of that was fine. What hurt most was all of my writing and much of my artwork was gone. Also, I still cannot locate much of my research that's vital for my thesis. The problem there was that there was David, myself, my father, and his business partner all packing. Someone else got to my books (probably the one thing I wanted to handle myself) and so we'll see when I unpack. With four adults it took 10 hours to pack my house. It's all stored at my sister's now. My car was destroyed too. I got good insurance for it and good FEMA money (I almost feel bad saying that because I know so many of you have been fighting them, but chances are no one's reading this far anyway).
Social Life
the goth scene here is even stupider than the one in new orleans. everyone's of the mental age of 16 and the legal age of 18, and there's this weird phenomenon of face painting--like painting your face like a skull, or with just a bunch of crappy eyeliner designs all over yourself...? the club here meets on sundays and it's called nv. it's two stories and other nights it's other things that aren't goth friendly. there's a generally good-sized crowd and old skool is out. i started a bit of an anti oontz-oontz club in frank's honor to no avail.
i had a boyfriend for a few weeks. i was very distraught during this time...or at least beginning to be very distraught. you know those relationships you look back fondly on? and you know those ones you look back on and think, "what was i thinking?" i know what i was thinking with this one, but still, what was i thinking? we really weren't compatible, he lived two hours away, he had his own shit and pretty much all we ever talked about was his problems and how fucked up he thought i was. he had conditions. the first was monogamy. i know, woah. that's not me, especially for someone two hours away. but i never cheated. the second was giving up drugs. well i had no real contacts here anyway. but still, woah. and why i consented to this i still don't know. he had a twin brother who was even more of a twat than he turned out to be who verbally abused me. of course, since all of this i've learned what people in the "scene" really think of these two.
basically people here are as childish as they were when i was here as a child and teenager. in new orleans people give you different kind of shit. it's not about telling your friends who i've never met a bunch of lies about me and having them spread them to people i know. it's more direct or really just not at all in new orleans. or maybe i was just set with my friends enough not to notice or be affected by it. i never socialized with kids at school so all of this is basically scene stuff. i realize any scene is incestuous and ridiculous but fuck, i'm here for like three months, just leave me alone.
speaking of which, no one, save one person, tried to take me home. that's odd for a club, i don't care what you look like. and i think we'd agree i'm reasonably attractive. or maybe it was just me always taking people home at the dervish....
i made a good girlfriend and that kind of waned too, sadly. i'm not sure what happened. but she and i had some good times going out to eat and such and she was there for me.
That's plenty for now. More relevant and recent things to come.