Here I am in New Orleans. Yes, the answer to your question is that I totally fucked up the school thing. Yes, the answer to your other question is that it’s okay, I’m okay, and I still love it here it anyway.
So I did exactly what I told myself I was not going to do, which was get black out drunk and miss the open house as a result. While I did eventually make it to campus, I missed the entire event. I also never heard back from the Director of the Creative Writing Workshop, who I emailed a month ago to try to set up a meeting. As I walked around campus, I asked myself, “Is this really what I want?” “This” referring to grad school, of course.
I mean… let’s be real here. This shit is expensive. I’m a privileged white girl who writes about her shitty ex-boyfriends and how much living in South Dakota sucks. Nobody is going to give me a free ride when there are plenty of other talented writers writing about real shit who actually need it. Furthermore, the student loan debt relief program has a 90% rejection rate. The current president is literally insane and the current administration is dysfunctional AF. Is now a good time to take on a bunch of student loan debt for a risk that may or may not help my career? No. The answer is no. Going to graduate school is probably the worst choice I could make at this point in my life. Student loans are a racket, higher education is a racket, and I am completely unwilling to destroy my financial future to pursue a degree I don’t actually need.
So let’s just throw away that plan, because fuck it. As for New Orleans, the vibe is lit. While I’m not getting a strong pull from the school, I am DEFINITELY getting it from the city. It’s less of a “Move here for school” vibe and more of a “Sell all your shit and move here because you fit right in and you deserve to be happy.” I mean, why not? Literally everyone I’ve met here so far has suggested I pick up and move here. Two different people gave me info on both short and long-term rentals. Another even offered to help me find a job. That shit NEVER happens in South Dakota. People there are just… so… mean. They keep telling me they’re nice and friendly, but I have never actually experienced that. Not once. Not ever. It’s fake AF.
How is the book coming? Well, I definitely thought I would be thinking about Andrew a lot more than I have been. Truth be told, I’ve barely thought of him at all. I guess he can only inspire me when I don’t want him to, like when I was in Paris. NOLA provides too many wonderous distractions for me. This blog is the closest I’ve come to getting any work done, which is fair because I desperately needed a real vacation. Paris was not a vacation, ya’ll. I was working the entire time. Here, not so much. I feel like I can finally just relax. I’m sure the beautiful weather and balcony suite have nothing to do with that at all.
What’s on the agenda now? Aside from eventually going back inside and changing into real clothes? I’m going on a Riverboat Jazz Dinner Cruise tonight! Yay!!!! I LOVE JAZZ! I live for jazz! I tipped a jazz band in the French Quarter $15 on Friday because I haven’t seen live jazz since Paris and they were so good I felt like they deserved it. I probably watched them for an hour. I danced with random tourists and had a great time. Yes, a plastic go-cup of Absinthe was involved, but wowza did I have FUN! NOLA is fun! That’s what I love about it!
Speaking of fun, I met this WASPy couple at the Absinthe bar who were the complete opposite of fun. You could tell they had no idea how to have fun because they were drinking a bourbon and a Bloody fucking Mary at an ABSINTHE BAR. First red flag.
Side note: Bloody Mary’s are for curing hangovers. Why are you drinking one in the middle of the day? In New Orleans? Because you’re trapped at home with the kids all day in your suburban McMansion while your husband is on business trips banging escorts and doing blow? Who knows.
So of course, it turns out they were Trump Supporters, because… duh. How do I know this? Because they will tell you within the first five minutes of conversing with them. Trump Supporters are obsessed with Trump. All they ever want to do is talk about how “great” he is, argue with facts/logic, interrupt you and cut you off mid-sentence, and smugly pronounce you a fool for not understanding how “amazing” he is. They live for their “GOTCHA!” moments, even though any person with an actual brain is thinking, “These people are fucking morons.” But they are convinced they’re right, so there’s nothing you can do but nod politely and walk away.
Let me tell you, reader: I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE GRATEFUL FOR PLASTIC TO GO CUPS IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!!! They started in on me and I literally just picked up my drank and ran out of that bar as fast as I could. I didn’t even politely excuse myself. I just picked up my cup and walked away. It was amazing. Normally they corner you in the bar and you’re trapped there with nowhere to run. In NOLA, you can just pick up your drink and leave. As one of my tour guides said the other day, “Thank you, black baby Jesus.”
[cut to shot of Trump Supporters’ faces melting off at the idea of a black baby Jesus]
So that was that. What else have I done in NOLA?
Last night, I went to the parades in the French Quarter, which was such a dream for me. I got dressed up in my mask, beads, and feather boa, picked up a huge slice of pizza and a daiquiri (aka a NOLA parade picnic), and found a sweet spot on Royal Street to watch the two parades. The first was thrown by a Krewe known for political satire, so needless to say I loved every minute of it. The second was just wild and crazy and fun.
Afterward, I had my Tarot cards read by a guy who claimed to be a witch descended from an ancient Icelandic wizarding family, which honestly seems legit. While I personally felt he charged too much, the reading was helpful. Not at all what I expected it to be or asked about, but Tarot is like that. He picked up on a bunch of vibes I was giving off that I wasn’t aware of and gave me some advice that I actually found very useful. I will try it out and see how it goes.
What else have I done since I’ve been here? I did the sightseeing bus tour on Friday, I’ve eaten so much delicious food, and yes, I enjoyed real Absinthe (not Lucid, which sucks tbh) “To Geaux” (the fact that they spell it like that gives me LIFE). I also acquired a CBD bath bomb from a shop in the Quarter and tested it out before the parades last night. Yes. Sign me up for a lifetime supply of that shit TODAY. I’ve been living my life all wrong forever. One tiny piece of that bath bomb and 20 minutes later, all of my problems had disappeared. Especially the sore feet, back aches, and general body pains that come with a hangover. Hashtag Legalize It.
Ugh, I know, I need to get off my ass and get ready. But it’s sooooo nice out and I paid a lot of money to enjoy this balcony. Really I’m just giving myself a chance to rest, relax, and chill out. I don’t need to be running around constantly to feel like I made the most of this trip. Spending time in the fancy suite I booked is just as important, especially because I have to return to a life that I don’t particularly enjoy living. Maybe I WILL just pack my shit up and leave. Fuck it. Why not? It’s not like there are any jobs I can get in SD that will last longer than 2 months.
God dammit, I really, truly, deeply despise it there. I know I’m unhappy there, but I never realize how much until I go somewhere I actually fit in. I’m definitely ready to just… move forward. Now I just have to figure out how to acquire the money I need. Um, idk, go work at another shitty job or two for as long as it takes for SD people to pull their “we don’t like outsiders” crap and keep doing it till I have like $5k? Idk. Is that enough to move? How much do I need? Will I actually go insane before then? I don’t know. It’s possible.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and someone who doesn’t suck will give me a job. Just kidding. That doesn’t happen in SD. That will never happen in SD. SD will always be exactly what it is: a miserable shithole full of judgmental, close-minded, ignorant assholes. I don’t belong there and I never have. It’s time to just… get out.