The Texas sun beats down upon me like the devils smile I'd rather be anywhere else than here...

Was it a blinding lack of subtlety 

or just the lack of style

responding to the ways and means of fear

Take me back to New Orleans

And drop me at my door

Cause I might love you yeah

but I love me more

I always blog more when I'm not in school, I haven't much to do and spend too much time thinking when I should be painting or making jewelry or reading, or swimming.

I can't not live in New Orleans any longer. I can pull out tons of jazz hits & oldies to explain my draw to that ragged dirty beautiful city.

Ya know how I feel, like that Jason Mraz song A Beautiful Mess, is about me...well it's also about nola. What a mess! Trash, homeless, poverty, urine rises off the steers....yet look at it from afar. I'll be dammed if she's not a beauty, flaws and all.

Here are the lyrics to the Jason Mraz song I feel like it's me and my city.

(I must be insane or something, anyway, this is my favotire version)

You’ve got the best of both worlds

You’re the kind of girl who can take down a man

And lift him back up again

You are strong but you’re needy, humble but you’re greedy

Based on your body language and shorty cursive I’ve been reading

You’re style is quite selective but your mind is rather reckless

Well, I guess it just suggests that this is just what happiness is

Hey, what a beautiful mess this is

It’s like picking up trash in dresses

Well, it kind of hurts when the kind of words you write

And kind of turn themselves into knives

And don’t mind my nerve you can call it fiction

'Cause I like being submerged in your contradictions, dear

'Cause here we are, here we are

Although you were biased I love your advice

Your comebacks they’re quick and probably

Have to do with your insecurities

There’s no shame in being crazy depending on how you take these

Words they're paraphrasing this relationship we’re staging

And it’s a beautiful mess, yes, it is

It’s like we're picking up trash in dresses

Well, it kind of hurts when the kind of words you say

Kind of turn themselves into blades

And the kind and courteous is a life I’ve heard

But it’s nice to say that we played in the dirt

'Cause here, here we are, here we are

Here we are, here we are

Here we are, here we are

Here we are, here we are

Here we are, we're still here

And what a beautiful mess this is

It’s like taking a guess when the only answer is yes

And through timeless words and priceless pictures

We’ll fly like birds not of this earth

And tides they turn and hearts disfigure

But that’s no concern when we’re wounded together

And we tore our dresses and stained our shirts

But it's nice today, oh, the wait was so worth it

I know I know

This kind of blog usually gets written a couple times a year when I get homesick. Well those feelings have been exacerbated by a recent series of events.
I've become someone I don't like. These past few weeks have brought out the worst in me and I would give anything to erase them from my memory. I know living here has changed me. Change is a good thing unless it's a change for the worse. And you usually can learn aomething from it if it's a change for rhe bad, but I have no clue what I learned except that I'm not who I thought I was and that I'm gonna have to work even harder to be the person I want to be. It really sucks.
Also, twice in two weeks something has happened that is inexplicable.
So here I am,  in my most hated state of the nation (it doesn't count that one set of grandparents lived in orange, it's close to the boarder), Texas.

Though I am extremely happy with my friends, (seriously, my life is great) nothing is holding me here except the fear of change. I mean these friends have gotten me through tough times, but I can easily fall back in to the circle of my old high school friends. We'd go to festivals, art  events, concerts and I'd play with their kids, go to baptisms and first communions. It'd be like I always wanted it. Unfortunately, this decision would probably mean that performing will not be a part of my future.

Now I know that I still have my name in the church musicians circle in nola/metairie so I would be able to at least sub for cantors, if not quickly get a regular gig.

Unfortunately, though I'd be making $100 more there than I am here, it would not be enough to live off of.

Down part is, there's not any openings at the few community colleges they have. The only work I want to do with my degrees is perform or teach college  And i know how it is for a musician in nola, you work 5 jobs: sing at 2 churches, have a private studio, teach somewhere part-time, sing in the opera chorus for pennies, and maybe a part time non musical job just to make ends meet.

I want to make sure you realize that I am not complaining. I knew this fact going in to music. But at one point, maybe before I caught the performer bug, I wanted to be a music minister at a big parish and a music therapist.

That's a more level headed life.

But once I actually started to have a real voice, Puccini called me to the lights, and I thought, maybe I am good enough, maybe my voice is unique enough. And finally, "God brought me to San Antonio, I don't want to be here at all but maybe it's part of His divine plan for me"

So SA has brought me freedom, sickness, the most horrible heartaches I've ever felt, a kick-ass assortment of friends, a handful of loving little brother, a personality twin, debt, and poverty.

With every fiber of my being I long to walk down the streets of New Orleans, picnic in City Park, sit in a bench in front of the lake, read a book in a quaint non commercial coffee shop, run in to familiar faces while shopping down Magazine St, listen to a ragtag jazz band play in Jackson Square in front of the cathedral, and eat beignets and daiquiris whenever I damn well please!

Hopeless romantic, idealist, stuck in the past; the former glory of my life before Katrina.

My life sucked before Katrina

I cried everyday, loved my job but was ready to sneak out my belongings and live else where because I couldn't stand living with my father. I had to secretly order my birth certificate and sneak out from work on my lunch break to even get a state ID. But my family members were still all alive and family time was always the best. The summer before the storm was indeed the best 3 months of my life. I had friends and freedom. I had a live journal...it was ridiculous, and myspace.  I went to concerts almost once a month, was accepted into my dream school...Life was as I wanted it, mostly.

So I listen to old cowboy mouth, some paul simon, and that Jason Mraz song while I long to be home.

I try to ignore the crappy things that happen here and live in the moment and be happy with my current life.

I have two interviews this week and I am still applying for other places. But know at the drop of a hat I would move to New Orleans if I had a job. Because....

Yes, all the marching bands will roll

I'll find my city in my soul

because I plan on growing old

on the Avenue