Tuesday, February 15, 2011

do you know what it means?

Each one of us owns a Defend New Orleans t-shirt or a Saints jersey. Each of us has some fleur de lis sculpture, sticker, magnet, coaster, necklace or key chain. Each one of us has the music of Louis Armstrong, Rebirth, The Meters, or Lil' Wayne currently blaring from our iTunes. Each of us speaks so fondly of perfectly spiced crawfish, fresh shucked oysters, or the taste of Abita strawberry right when it touches your lips, almost as if we have invented the three. Each of us has reserved a little part of our heart and devoted it to the city of new orleans.

We speak of it often and we speak of it proudly. But, what we sometimes discuss so little about, and maybe because it is part of admitting that a place so dear to each of us has such severe scars, is the serious, deafening, segregated violence that occurs each and every day. It is the violence that takes such a perfect city and makes it glare with imperfection.

From most of our perspectives, it is the violence that may keep visitors from returning or our children from staying. It may keep our parents in the suburbs and the outer streets of the quarter from being walked at night. Most of us have the privilege of viewing such violence from a distance because we were fortunate enough to have been born into privilege. In New Orleans, this seems to mean we were born into the privilege of growing up in Lakeview or Metairie or the "safe" parts Uptown, placed in private or parochial schools, and thus escaped the realities that many of our fellow residents face.

But, for the majority of the city, this is the violence that steals their brothers, their sisters, and their friends. It is the violence that steals a son from his mother and a daughter from her great grandfather. This is the violence that cripples the youth in a city we love solely because they had the unfortunate luck of being born in a place that does not protect them. They are born into a life where they have to worry about being safe every day they wake up, each day they go to a school that most of the lawmakers of our community would never send their child to, and every time they decide they want to play a game outside.

Like most of you, I was privileged enough to know nothing of these fears. And, like many of you, I want to know.

My friend is trying to tell us.

So, put your money where your mouth is. When you say you "know what it means." When you say "who dat." What are you talking about?

Go to this link and give what you can:


Or go to her fundraiser on February 24th at Mimi's.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Blog Update

Specifically to my grandma, who sent me the following email:
"Hi Adult Girl,

What’s going on….I miss your blog….don’t know what you are doing or how your job is going …don’t know anything.

Give me a holler or a send me a note.

Love you much.


Basically, for the moment, work can blow me. Ive been working entirely too much. I've also been getting fed 3 meals a day like one was fattening a christmas ham so that I will not have to take a break to think about food. I'm also being provided free red bulls. I'm averaging about 3 per day and that is after my morning 3-4 shot latte. One day, I worked for 22 hours. So yeah, not only do I not have time to blog for those of you who have ample time to workout, read the paper leisurely with your coffee and check out all your buddies' blogs, but also, and quite sadly, I have nothing interesting to say.

My blog from yesterday to today would sound like this:
Eat Banana and Drink Coffee (0.1); Dress (0.3); Travel to Work (0.5); Work (13.4); Chug Old Fashioned (0.4); Travel from Work (0.4); Take Shower (0.2); Watch episode of Californication (Season 3, ep. 1)(0.5); Fall asleep (0.4); Actually sleep (7.0). And, by comparison, I'd scale that as a good day.

And continuing on to today: 7 am. blackberry dinging about some sort of emergency. No time for banana or coffee. Grab juice and run out the door. Get to the Muni station where a train has derailed. See people on stretchers? or am I just seeing things? No time to help. Board train to go to work, while reading law review article. Wonder if I remembered to put on deoderant. I'm wearing too many layers to check. Arrive at work. Finish memo. 10 am. Drink coffee. Eat apple. Cant remember the last time I washed my jeans. I think they kind of smell. Respond to Shanley's FB request for a blog. End blog. Start memo.

An even sadder part is I extracted 90% of this blog from my own facebook comment because I dont have time to write anything else.

Mo' money Mo' problems.

Monday, December 20, 2010


Put down my super bowl bet. Hopefully we don't keep playing like we did on Sunday and I'll win some cash to buy myself a TV.

Christmas at the Bellagio.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Lindas Shoes

These are, for whatever reason, the shoes my mom wore to the airport. I simply cannot understand how she was let on with these weapons when I've had tweezers confiscated. Great job, TSA.

Fear and Loathing

A somewhat impromptu three day trip to Vegas with the family to check out Christmas decorations. An absolutely normal trip with a 13 and 16 year old for sure. Here is my moms luggage which is fully engulfing my appropriately sized luggage for such a short trip. Watch out, Vegas.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Apartment Score

1 bedroom on 20th and Castro. Deposit and first month has been paid. Lease is signed. I'm a big kid now.