A Look Back

I decided to go ahead and post this even though it isn't directly part of my New York experience. This is something I wrote when my dear friend Maggie Kellet asked for my feelings on New Orleans as part of a newspaper article she was writing. I do, however, feel that some of the things I said may not have come out if I wasn't leaving New Orleans, so I think it's appropriate.

In high school there are innumerable different types of people. New Orleans is that kid who accepted you for just how you are and loved you for being that person. I love New Orleans because she loved me. When I was 11, I moved with my family to New Orleans, leaving behind the most secure childhood any kid could ask for. I had friends, a school that I liked, my entire family was within an hours drive. Then in the fall of 1999 all of that disappeared. My life was uprooted and relocated to this city that I had only visited twice. Needless to say, I was pissed. I hated every aspect of this place, nothing about it was appealing. What I wasn't willing to accept at that time was that New Orleans was now home.
At my last Sunday church gathering here in New Orleans everyone went around saying what they would miss the most about me. My dad said something a little different. Instead of telling me he was going to miss me, he thanked me for making the most of moving here. He said I embraced this place, I made it home. Sometimes all it takes to be accepted is for us to open our hearts. When I did that, New Orleans showed me who she really was. She can be demanding and nearly suck you dry at times, but the joy, uniqueness, and love she offers in return are undoubtedly worth the cost.
Growing up in New Orleans afforded me opportunities and a level of culture that exist no where else. For instance, seeing men in fish-net stockings and high heels doesn't even phase me. Oddities to other people were the norm for me. I grew up accepting homosexuals, bohemian artists and musicians, fortune tellers, goths, punks, and street kids. Who was I to say that they were any different than the rest of us? Those people were my friends. Each and every one of them were an integral part of the city that gave it its grunge: its beauty, not through glistening perfection, but through broken uniqueness. This city, these people shaped who I am today. I couldn't have asked for a better place to grow up.
As I am typing this, I am in a car, somewhere in Alabama, leaving New Orleans, heading to New York City. It broke my heart to leave New Orleans, but astonishingly, she does not have an art college. New York does, though as a city it is no substitute for my first love. There really is no other place like New Orleans. It is hard to understand from the outside. You need to live here and experience it fully to begin to understand. She is absolutely beautiful because of all the dirt, grime, corruption, humidity, destruction, and imperfection. I once heard living in New Orleans being describe as being stuck in an abusive relationship that you can't get out of because you love the abuser. That is true, but I know when She would beat the shit out of me that she loved me through it all.

Beginning

I'm all moved in. Vinicent Stabile Hall, Room 114 is my new home for the next year. Calling Stabile home will never happen because it has as much charm as a prison. Funny that I should say that because the Pratt graduate who designed it previously designed mental institutions and, you guessed it, prisons. I can't complain though: my roommate is easy going, its clean, my RA is a nice guy, and the folks on my floor are a cool collection of people from every part of the country.

The orientation schedule has been keeping me pretty busy since I got here. Every day there has been meetings (oh how I love listening to information that I have already been told!). I have been to so many "get to know you" sessions and what not. If I never have to do another ice breaker in my life that would be fine. Unfortunately, all of this orientation stuff has left me very little time to go exploring. Though I have made the walk up to Williamsburg which is fascinating (I will save its story for another time).

The big story for today was my trip to Dress Code with a couple of my class mates and one of the orientation leaders. Dress Code is graphic design firm run by two guys: Dan and Andre. The two of them attended college in California while doing design work on the side to bolster their portfolios. After college they both got senior position jobs working for MTV. After a little more than a year they grew weary of working for something as corporate and huge as MTV so they moved on and started their own studio. Today, they are finishing a book about making the transition between art school and getting a job in the real world. On top of this, they teach classes here at Pratt and continue to do graphics work for companies like Adobe and Fila. The story isn't over yet. Here is the kicker: Dan is 26 years old and Andre is only 22. I am still trying to figure out exactly how that makes me feel. It gives me hope that I too can accomplish so much at such a young age, but at the same time I feel very inadequate since I won't even be graduating until I'm 23.

I am happy to be here in New York. I miss home, but that is to be expected. Thank you for reading this, and I am going to try to update it as often as possible. Classes start Monday, so we will just have to wait and see how much free time I will have to make entries. Hopefully I will be able to keep y'all up to date and informed, maybe I'll even take some pictures one of these days.