This is the last piece of writing I will submit in college. Possibly ever, if I decide against pursuing more degrees. Sixteen years, millions of words written, and my journey ends just how it began: me staring at a blank page. I’m not sure what to write for this final blog. How exactly do I begin to synthesize the experience I’ve had the last month in New Orleans? How do I come to terms with the fact that this incredible experience is ending? That college is ending? That the days of following a clear path are over?
Photos from my graduation!
I don’t know where to start.
In case you somehow couldn’t tell, I haven’t outlined a single one of these blogs. I’ve gone into each with a vague idea of what I want to talk about, but from there I’ve just let my thoughts lead me. I thought this one would be the same. In fact, I thought it would be the easiest to write because it’s just going to be me summing up my experiences over the past month. It seems as though I was wrong, but I’m going to try to do my best.
While The Moviegoer mentions it specifically, almost all the books we read for this class contained some element of ‘searching.’ Every character, from Edna all the way to Ignatius, was looking for something, either internally or externally. We’ve discussed in class many times what it is about New Orleans that brings up all these philosophical and existential questions, how the collision of cultures mixed with the Deep South ‘lost cause’ myth converge to create a city that is still searching for its own identity.
I came to New Orleans searching for something too, though I didn’t know it at the time. I’ve loved to read since I was three years old. In fact, the book People We Meet on Vacation is what originally sparked my desire to go to New Orleans. It felt very romantic to me, very inspiring. Because beyond reading, I have always harbored a calling to be a writer one day. As early as I started reading, I also began filling notebook upon notebook with writing. My brain felt like it was exploding with ideas. Writing to me seemed as natural as breathing, and imagining stories in my head became my primary source of entertainment in a no-TV home.
That calling to write has never gone away, but, as many childhood dreams, it’s been stamped down by the crushing realities of adult life. Writing is difficult. It’s scary. The words in my mind never come out the same way on paper, and even if they do, can I really handle baring my soul to someone else like that? Both my inner critic and my fear of people reading my work have tainted the process of writing for me. I put so much pressure on myself that all that creativity I once had gets extinguished.
Writing is also just, objectively, not the most financially sound career decision. I have never desired this whole ‘starving artist’ thing. There is nothing enjoyable, I have learned from experience, in not knowing how you’re going to pay your rent this month or eat anything other than instant ramen and sunflower seeds for the foreseeable future. I crave financial stability. So as much as I would have loved to major in literature or history or classics, I chose to study economics. That isn’t to say that I don’t enjoy what I do. I have quite an analytical streak that takes well to studying patterns and predicting trends. It’s only that for every bit of practicality I have, it is matched equally in creativity. I don’t have the chance to nurture both parts of myself, and so my imagination has withered from lack of care.
Essentially, that was just my long-winded way of saying that I’ve been feeling a little… uninspired recently. Between that, a breakup of my long-term relationship, graduation, there has been a yawning crater of absence in my life. I felt drawn to New Orleans because of the sense of romance and individuality in this city. There seemed to be so many stories, so much rich history. To quote Andrew, this city is quite fecund. It teems with abundance in every direction, from the different cultural influences to the extravagance of Mardi Gras to the French quarter houses resplendent with wrought-iron leaf, bright colors, and lush bougainvillea. There is something a little bit magical about this city. To go back to my first blog post, New Orleans feels like nowhere else I have ever been. Being here sparks my curiosity, not comparison. I haven’t ranked it against the other cities I’ve been to in my lifetime. It doesn’t feel necessary — all my energy is spent learning the history and imagining the stories that could have taken place here over the centuries. It feels like New Orleans is a mystery, and if I pop into the right bar at just the right time or stumble upon the right novel in a bookstore then I will unlock the key to understanding more about this place.
A collection of photos that I hope encapsulates the vibe of this city better than I could explain it in words:
So. Did this trip singlehandedly reignite my passion for writing? Did I find what I was searching for? I don’t know. I don’t think it’s quite a fair ask of one city, to totally change your life in a month. I think I’ve spent the last month so inundated with experiences, history, perspectives, people, food, and novels that it will take some time to fully sort through and reflect upon everything in full. What I will say is that in this city so teeming with life, I felt as though I was able to collect some of that energy for myself. Everyone and everything here is alive. That’s the best way of describing New Orleans. Alive. Through this experience, through seeing and doing and learning and thinking and laughing and crying and talking and eating and drinking and sweating in the heat and running in the rain,
I’ve been able to feel.
I’ve been able to connect with the piece of myself from which my creativity and my humanity stem. I’ve been able to remind myself that the world moves on even when it feels like it’s ending. I’ve been able to watch the sun set over the Mississippi River, marveling in the beauty of my surroundings, at how so many paths for so many people could have led them right here.
Anyways, there is much more I could say on this topic, but I fear it devolving into a sappy and nonsensical ramble which is not the point here. TLDR: New Orleans was really cool and I’m thankful for this experience. Let’s just leave it at that.
FOOD
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FOOD !
This experience wouldn’t have been what it was without all the people that made it so fun. Missing you guys already, enjoy these photos (though you might like some more than others tehe)
