Revisiting the favorites

I figured it was time to revisit some of my favorite photos I've taken. I've taken a lot of photos over the years, but these are some of the ones that have always stuck with me. Not surprisingly, most of them are from Honduras, because, well, that place has stuck with me. Regretfully none of them are from Belize, because I didn't have a nice camera yet when I went to Belize. But one day, I will have loads of beautiful photos from that beautiful place.

Enjoy!

Christmas Morning

There are few things that make me happier than helping people, as most of you know. Although I'm continuously feeling satisfied with the work that I do, today I was overwhelmed with joy when I received some awesome news from a client.

This client came in a few weeks back looking for assistance with finding an apartment. A few weeks before that he had lived in Florida and decided to move to California, however he got sidetracked in New Orleans and decided to stay. However he had no home to call his own, and had to resort to a shelter for a few weeks. Alone and 63-years-old, this man became homeless.

Unlike a lot of our clients, this man has SSI income and a promising job at the Superdome. All he needed was assistance to find an affordable apartment, which is a hard task in and of itself--believe me, I've been through that search. When I first got word that I got the job here at UNITY, my roommate and I frantically searched for apartments for about a month, coming up short on every lead. Finally, right before our move down here, we secured the apartment that we live in now. But the process definitely came with a lot of let downs and frustrations.

Although the client was slightly old and worn out, he was determined to have his own apartment by the holidays, and I was determined to make that happen. The first day he came in we went through apartment options and called multiple landlords for about an hour. At the end of the session, we secured him a viewing of an apartment in the 7th ward.

As the day came, he was informed that the apartment had been rented to someone else. Although this news was disheartening, he continued to explore his options and came back into UNITY to talk to my coworker about more options. At the time I was working at our other office, but I received a text from my coworker saying that one apartment looked promising. I crossed every finger I could.

When I came into work this Monday, I checked my voicemails, and had one from the client. "Hello Ms. Catherine, give me a call back I have some good news."

I called him back this morning and he informed me that he is moving into his apartment tomorrow and couldn't be more excited. EEEEEEEEK! I was elated.

When I first met him, he promised to take me to dinner if I helped get him housed. This morning, he asked me when I was free and said that although he will be short on money after renting the apartment, he would use every last dollar to take me to lunch or dinner. He said if I couldn't meet him, he would bring lunch to me. Because I will be going home this weekend, our celebratory meal is postponed until after the New Year, but I can't wait to share my excitement with him.

In light of the recent tragedy in Connecticut, the spirit of the holidays have been a bit weakened. However, the joy of helping him and helping others will always strengthen my spirits.

Thankfully, the client will  be comfortably housed on Christmas morning. I too might be able to return to my home in Lavallette for Christmas, which would honestly be the best present and the only present I truly want. A little bit of mold and damaged flooring is all that stands in my way of waking up in my own bed to go see if Santa has visited.

Santa has been working overtime this year and has already brought me a lot of joy already, and the blessings I have received are enough for many Christmases to come. My only hope is that the 26 news angels in Heaven watch down on us this holiday season, as I know we will all be looking up to them.

Make sure to cherish your time in your home for the holidays--the comfort of a fireplace, a warm bed, a loving family, and a clean bill of health shouldn't go unnoticed and shouldn't be overlooked. Open your presents with gratitude and joy and know that you are blessed. With that being said, I hope you all get everything that's on your Christmas list, and hug your families tight.

Happy holidays everyone.

The ability to feel

There are some things that I've gotten used to, and that have become the norm for me, while I've been doing this line of work. I've been noticing it a lot recently, and it's nothing that should be considered a "norm" for anyone. I know I still have an extreme amount of passion for what I do and the people I help--but I'm beginning to think that I'm becoming numb to the situations and stories that I hear on a daily basis. Some may say that this is a good thing, and that the job won't be as emotionally hard as it is, but I'm worried that I'm going to lose my sense of feelings. I never want to lose the ability to feel.

The first thing that I've become used to is the question "Are you homeless?" Well, it isn't necessarily the question, but the answer "yes." I expect this answer when I ask it to someone during the day. What's worse is the question that follows that: "Where did you sleep last night?" I expect them to say "under the bridge" or "in an abandoned building," or anywhere else that is not meant for human habitation. When they answer, if I'm interviewing them, it's just a check-in-the-box situation. To me, it's disgusting that I have to expect that people are living in abandoned buildings and under the bridge and that it's become such a norm for me and that it's not a novelty living situation anymore. Here in New Orleans, I've met more people who are homeless, than people who are housed.

Another norm to me is abandoned buildings, shacks, and damaged neighborhoods. I am fortunate enough to live in a great apartment in a great neighborhood. However many neighborhoods that I travel through still haven't recovered from Katrina. I've become immune to seeing structural damage and hearing about our clients sleeping in these places. It's become so bad, that when I went home to see the damage of Sandy, it didn't phase me as much as it should have, because I see hurricane damage so often. All I wanted to do when I was on the beach was cry, and I couldn't.

Another thing is how I refer to clients when speaking about them, or how we all refer to them. The other day I found myself saying, "He has AIDs, Diabetes, and mental illness." I said it casually. Looking back on it now, it's more like, "He has AIDs, Diabetes, AND mental illness?!?!?? Holy crap." However, during work it's just a casual thing.

I've also gotten used to people saying that they abuse alcohol, are addicted to drugs, or have been to prison. These are all just other check-in-the-box answers. They're quickly asked, and quickly answered, without any sort of background, detail, or explanation.

Lastly, I've gotten used to people coming in who we can't help. During walk-in hours, people come and say their situation, ask for help, and be on their way. Sometimes my coworker is able to refer them to different agencies and different shelters, and sometimes she's not. Sometimes they're seeking rental assistance, which we don't currently offer, and will have to face eviction. I've become used to watching people leave when we can't help them and I just go about my day, not thinking that tonight they will be sleeping on the concrete, on a wooden surface, in an abusive situation, in a drugged lull, or in fear that they will be evicted the next day. I will be safely sleeping in my bed, under my blankets, on my pillows, in my apartment, with the doors locked so no one can disturb me. But at the time, I don't think of that. I just keep typing away on the computer as the next client walks in.

I don't want to get used to these things. I don't want to lose the ability to feel. I know I still have the ability to feel, because I'm elated when we can help someone, and when I hear about stories of recovery and housing, and when I hear about saving lives and heroes. I even still cry during sappy movies and TV shows. I even cried during "Wreck it Ralph" the other day. But I love this corny ability that I have to have a heart for the littlest things--and now, my biggest fear is to become heartless.

Thankfully, I have entirely too much to be thankful for

Being that the week of my second favorite holiday has arrived, I figured I'd write a much needed post about recent things in my life I'm thankful for. This year, Thanksgiving has a whole new meaning, and is a bit different. Recently, my beloved home has undergone a catastrophic storm, however the positives in my life overwhelmingly outweigh the negatives, and I can say with my whole heart that I am truly blessed.

In the past few months I have formed somewhat of a stable life in New Orleans: I acquired a new job, a new roommate, a new home, a new group of fantastic friends, a new boyfriend, and a new way of life. When I came down here I honestly had no idea what to expect, which I know is a cliche statement, but it's true. I not only had never been to New Orleans, I never had been to the South. I expected to be OK and to make friends and to live in an apartment and find my way around. I expected to do my year of service as best as I could, and be on my way. However, what I've encountered here has exceeded any expectations that I had before moving here. I am not only doing OK down here, I'm doing wonderfully. I not only have made friends, but I have made friends that I get along with entirely too well, and feel like I was destined to meet. I not only live in an apartment, but I live in a home. And I am no longer expecting it to be so easy to pick up and leave when I'm done with my year as a VISTA. Because of how much I love it here, I honestly have no idea what my plan is after this year, nor do I want to think about it until it's definite decision time.

I've always been happy and healthy, and at this time every year I am thankful for my happiness and healthiness. However at this point I am happier than I imagined possible. I'm not quite sure how to adequately be thankful for all of the things I am blessed with, all of the people in my life I am blessed with, and all of the opportunities I've been blessed with. But I will start by thanking all of the people who encouraged me to move here. I know it was a leap of faith and a shot in the dark, but you all told me to go for it.Of course my spontaneity helped a bit, but I really do owe credit to those who have supported me in all of my crazy endeavors in the past and present.

I especially owe heaps of thanks to my mom who has sacrificed so much to allow me to be able to participate in my travels and service trips. My trips to Belize and Honduras cost an arm and a leg, and frankly they were her arm and leg, with the help of some fundraising. And although moving down here wasn't as much money as my foreign adventures, it definitely was a good chunk of change. My passions and my goals are what keep me going and I strive to achieve them constantly, and the support I receive from my mother is truly incredible.

That's not to say the rest of my family hasn't supported me. They have. And I thank every single one of you from the bottom of my heart. I know I'm a little bit crazy at times for picking up and moving from place to place, or traveling from place to place, but thank you for letting me do so with little to no judgement.

I'm also thankful for New Jersey. Sandy was a real bitch to us, and in just two days I will have to face a reality that I've been putting on the back burner since I'm so far away--my island is destroyed. But in two days, I will have to see it myself, and the logic "out of sight, out of mind" will no longer apply. I'm terrified to face this reality and am obviously still devastated by the storm, but the storm has also made me realize how many more things I am thankful for. I am thankful that I still have a home--granted it's a little wet, but it's still standing. So many of my friends have lost their homes and my heart goes out to all of you. I am also thankful that only some material possessions need to be replaced and that my family is safe. Although my sister and her boyfriend have lost a great deal in the flood, I am so happy they were in a safe place. I am also thankful for the close-knit community that is Lavallette. Everyone on the island has come together to work towards the goal of restoring the shore. Many of my friends have already volunteered countless hours and efforts to doing so, and I'm so proud of you and greatly appreciate the time and energy you are putting into restoring the most important place in the world to me.

The most important lesson that I've learned while being here is that no matter how hard of a day I think I'm having or how much of a bad mood I'm in, I'm always so much more fortunate than most people. A lot of people I encounter in this line of work really are warriors and survivors. From sleeping on the streets to fighting for their lives every day, these people have inspired me to be strong. Strength is something that I think I have lacked in previous years, but I have made a vow to remain strong and positive, because no matter what is happening in my life, I always get to go home to food, a warm house, and a comfortable bed. Although these are common luxuries amongst my friends, they are not common luxuries amongst the people I encounter here on a daily basis.

Additionally, I had the pleasure of attending the Marine Corps Ball this weekend. In the pamphlet, there were multiple pages of names of Marines who had lost their lives.There was also a beautiful presentation and a moment of silence for the fallen. Of course, if you know me, this made me tear up, and rightfully so. I'm so proud of those who are so selfless and brave. And I am so thankful for those who put their lives on the line so that my life and my freedom can remain in tact. Being alive in and of itself is something I am immeasurably thankful for.

It is incredible once you sit back and analyze your life how much you realize what you have. I sometimes complain about how broke I am, or how I walk to work every day, or how much I have to get done at work. Then I get myself in check and realize that I can afford rent and food (with a little help from the government), that I have the ability to walk to work, and that at least I have a job to go to.

This week, please be sure to make an effort to be thankful for the things that are commonplace in your life: education, shelter, food, health, family, friends, and happiness. These are what hold us together and what keep us trucking along. Regularly I encounter folks who are lacking some of these, and many who are lacking all of them, and let me tell you, they would give anything to switch places with you. Don't take it for granted.

Puppy Love

A few posts ago I wrote about a man named Jessie Pullins (if you haven't read it yet, scroll down and read it!) and promised that I would be writing another one about him.Although it has taken me a while, here it is, as promised.

Two days before Katrina hit land, Jessie and his family left New Orleans and headed to Baton Rouge, leaving their dog, J.J. (Jessie Junior), behind with a plentiful supply of food and water. In Jessie's mind, they'd be gone a day--a few days at the most.

Then Katrina hit.

Jessie wanted so badly to go back for the dog, but the mandatory evacuation prevented him from doing so. He was helpless, and J.J. was left alone to fend for himself against the most damaging hurricane to ever hit the United States. J.J. was just a year old.

About three weeks after the storm, the city was still sealed off, however animal rescue workers were permitted to enter. At that time, J.J. was rescued--but not to Jessie's knowledge.

J.J., along with 28 other rescue dogs, was flown to Los Angelos and wound up at the Second Chance at Love Humane Society in Templeton, California.Three of the dogs were quickly returned to their owners, but after several months of waiting, the society's founder found new homes for J.J. and the others.

Jessie loved his dog. As a formerly homeless man and drug addict, Jessie had changed his life around, kicked his habit, got a job, and married his sweetheart. However, after his wife died of cancer, he needed a companion--someone to share his life with. J.J. came to the rescue.


He was going to fight to find his dog. A few years later, Jessie appeared on a TV show about "Katrina dogs" who were waiting to be reunited with their owners. A woman in California saw the show, and realized she knew how to get Jessie to his dog.

Within a few days of the show, Jessie found a note on his door in New Orleans with instructions on how he could get his dog back.Jessie contacted the Second Chance at Love Humane Society and they refused to help Jessie get in touch with the people who had adopted J.J. But that didn't stop him.

He hired a lawyer and decided to sue the society and the sisters who had adopted him. And after a year of legal battles, the sisters decided to return J.J. to Jessie in New Orleans.

Jessie waited at the airport for J.J. to return-- and when the cage was opened, J.J. ran straight to Jessie for a loving embrace.It had been four years since they had seen each other. (Film crews were there to document this moment and Jessie and J.J.'s story--it can be seen in the movie "Mine," and can be found on Netflix).

Two days after J.J. and Jessie were reunited, Jessie released a statement saying, "When he came out of the cage, he came straight to me."

"J.J. is a part of me, a part of me that was missing for a long time," he added.

 

(Jessie told me this story in person, however the sequence of events and quotes from above are from an AP article titled "Man and dog reunite, 4 years after Katrina." The photo was taken by AP photographer Bill Haber.)

Jersey Strong

About two and a half months ago I moved to a place that had experienced the most damaging hurricane in US history. Seven years later, the flooding and destruction still haunts this city, and is still prevalent in a lot of neighborhoods. However, the spirit of the city is alive, and for the most part, has recovered and rebuilt.

Last week, my beloved Jersey Shore experienced something that I never thought I would have to see: complete and utter destruction and devastation. Beautiful homes that I've driven past countless times, bars that I've wasted nights away in, boardwalks that I spent most of my childhood roaming, and some of the most beautiful beaches in the world, all were hidden under water, and in some cases, swept out to sea.

It has been surreal watching footage of homes that are now merely pilings, and once-sturdy bridges fallen and damaged. Because I'm so far away, it hasn't hit me that it's real yet. In two weeks when I return to Jersey for Thanksgiving, I keep expecting to go lay in my bed, in my house, and walk on my beach. However, this won't happen, and probably won't happen for a very long time. It will be months until my mother will be able to return to our home, and even then, the repairing begins.

Clean up on the island has already begun. Organizations and workers have been busting their asses day in and day out to repair the shore. Agencies, corporations, TV stations, and celebrities have been diligently working to raise money for the restorations. It has been so beautiful to see how many people care about such a stunning area of the country--an area that has gotten such a bad reputation in recent years.

One thing does sadden me is the amount of people that have been taking to social media to say that we should have expected this, and that no one should have built houses in such a hurricane-prone and flood-prone area. What really bothers me is when people say that it's not a big deal because they were just vacation homes. First of all, there's no way to expect such a tragic natural disaster. Natural disasters occur all over America, and the world. If we all had to live in places that would avoid all natural disasters, then there would be no place to live. In any region of the US you can be hit with a hurricane, a tornado, an earthquake, a blizzard, etc., but that shouldn't keep you from living in a place that you love. I'm convinced that the beaches of Lavallette are some of the most beautiful beaches in the US, and I would never give up my house there. Even if you told me ten years ago that this was going to happen, I would do it all over again, because it would be worth it.

Many of these homes were not vacation homes, and even if they were--so what? People made memories there, spent the best part of the year there, and always had a place to travel to when their stresses were too much to handle. I met my best friends in Lavallette, and will always consider them my family. It is such a small town, and even before Sandy it was clear that the people in Lavallette were a family. Now, after a significant part of our town and surrounding areas have been devastated, I don't think we've ever been closer. It warms my heart to see people reaching out to people--friends offering to help in any way that they can, even if they experienced disaster themselves. Despite the bad reputation that Jersey has, these are some of the most selfless people I've ever encountered in my life, and I'm blessed to call them friends and family.

I know that the shore will never be the same. My idea of "normal" will never be normal, and my favorite spots I traveled to as a child no longer will exist. But soon enough, the shore will be rebuilt. And although I can't promise that it will be bigger and better--because I can't possibly fathom it being better than it was--it will be different, and beautiful, and a place to make a new lifetime of memories.

I hope the memories of the shore will never be forgotten. They will always be engraved in my heart, just as the people that helped make those memories will always be there. I will never stop loving where I came from, and although I'm thousands of miles away, I will always come home. You can take the girl out of Jersey, but her heart will always remain.

I also solemnly swear to learn all I can while I'm here--how they recovered, how they rebuilt, how they handled the devastation--and bring it back home. I've never been more confident of the path I'm supposed to take in life.

Until then, stay Jersey Strong. We're the toughest state in the nation.

"Beach kids always feel no pain, and when they do, a case of Corona can always cure that. They move with the tide, and always have 'no worries'. Beach kids at the Jersey Shore have always known that life is just one big party at their hands." -Asbury Park Press

(I did not take these photos--they are taken from online resources)

Gators, and frogs, and snakes, oh my!

Hi friends! I had the pleasure of going on a lovely little nature walk on Sunday to search for some gators. Along the way there were some pretty cool little photogenic creatures, and sights! I hope you enjoyed looking at them as much as I enjoyed taking them :)

An unlikely love story

Mr. Jesse Pullins is stable now, but that wasn't always the case. There was a time when he couldn't pay rent. There were a few times that he couldn't pay rent. And these few times led him to the streets where he slept on cardboard. In his mind, it was a temporary situation. He would stay there a week and be able to get back on his feet. A week turned into two. Two turned into three. Three turned into months. Months turned into five years.

Sleeping under the bridge and eating from dumpsters became his normal. "I had some good food from those dumpsters--some of the best food in New Orleans," he said.

On the streets Jesse became addicted to crack. The money he would acquire would go towards his habit, and eventually took over his life. One night, he was staying on the streets with a friend. His friend had $20 and a bicycle. They had been friends for a while, and Jesse would always be the one that would go get the crack and bring it back to them so that they could do it together. However this one night, Jesse realized that it was this man's last $20, and knew that when he brought the crack back to him, Jesse wouldn't be able to partake. So instead, Jesse decided to use the money to buy drugs for himself. Knowing that he couldn't go back to his friend, he sold the $300 bike for just $40.

Walking over the bridge that night, Jesse began to realize what he had done. He decided, he'd end it all. He was in the perfect place to do so--all he needed to do was jump off the bridge. But the bridge wasn't high enough to ensure death. He thought, "What if I just break an arm or a leg? Then I'd just be a crippled junkie." He'd be in a worse position than he was in already.

Instead, Jesse dropped to his knees and expressed his hatred of himself to God, and begged for his help. The next day, Jesse went to a local shelter. He stayed there for a while--9 months to be exact. During his stay, he started helping out in the clothing room. He'd organize the donations and assist people that came in to seek clothing.

One lady continuously came in. She was always nicely dressed, he noted. "I wasn't necessarily attracted to her at first, but man there was something about her." He was too nervous to talk to her (which for someone who was so willing to tell me his story is hard to believe), and looked for a way to do so.

She came in for meals often, and one day Jesse had prepared a way to talk to her. He devised a plan: the shelter did not put salt and pepper on the table. So, when she was eating her lunch and asked for salt and pepper, he would be the one to bring it to her, and they could strike up a conversation. The plan was set, and she was ready. When she came in, she ate her lunch, without salt and pepper. But she walked up to him and said, "Do you have 35 cents I could use to make a phone call?" Nervously searching his pockets, Jesse had a few singles, but couldn't round up 35 cents. She graciously said, "thanks anyway," and left the shelter. He had missed his chance.

For the next two weeks, the woman didn't come to the shelter. But Jesse made sure to have one thing on him every day in case she did: 35 cents. After two weeks without coming around, the woman showed up for a meal. Jesse walked up to her and handed her 35 cents.

With that, the woman started talking to Jesse more. Day by day they started developing a connection. They would walk everywhere together and stay out as late as their respected shelters would allow. Sitting on benches all day every day, they would talk about life and plans.

It hit him. This was his woman. He had been married before when he was young, but it wasn't love--it was convenience. This on the other hand, was something else. He wanted to spend every day with her, and he wanted to be able to provide for her. He heard about an opening at the Marriott, and the next day Jesse rounded up the best clothes he could find at the shelter, and walked to the hotel to apply. He realized he didn't have adequate references, work experiences, or an education, but what he had was his story and his ambitions. After telling his story, he ended with, "this job is the fine line between me going to sleep on cardboard, or me moving forward with my life." Jesse was hired on the spot.

After staying at the shelter and saving money for a while, Jesse was able to take his lady around town to look for a place to stay. While walking around, they came across a really beat down house. But, through the windows they were able to see a beautiful mantel, and she fell in love. A few weeks later they moved in, just to find out that the house had been broken into, and the beautiful mantel had been stolen. "She didn't care though--it was our home, and I paid our rent."

Jesse and his love slept on the floor every night on a pile of blankets. But one day, while walking home from work, Jesse came across a folded up mattress frame in the garbage. He carried it home, fixed it up a bit, and placed it in their bedroom. They slept on the floor in the middle of their very own mattress frame.

After a few weeks the hotel offered him a box spring that they were throwing out. Eagerly, he took it, and used a shopping cart to wheel it home the miles to his house. They were closer to having a bed.

While working his ass off, and saving his money, Jesse was able to save up enough money to buy them a mattress. Alas, they had a home, and they had a bed.

Jesse recalled this time of his life not as a struggle, but as a blessing. His wife passed away after five years, which Jesse said he was OK with. "Five years with her was better than none."

His motivation to work was stronger than ever. After five months, he earned employee of the month. He was continuously promoted, and earned employee of the year six years in a row. Currently, seventeen years later, he holds one of the most prominent positions at his hotel, is a speaker for programs across the country, and is on the board for three organizations, including my very own UNITY.

Although Jesse has remarried since, I can't help but have a warm heart over the truest love story I've had the pleasure of hearing. Helping each other out of struggle and addiction, and forming a life together with little to nothing, but with an overload of love and happiness, is something that not many people can relate to.

Jesse, now famous across the country as a homeless advocate,  is stable. But, he knows how much it takes to get there. He credits all of his success and his survival to God, but also to the love of his life.

I love you, Bloomfield.

I've been gone from Bloomfield for a few years now, but I will always consider it my home. This weekend the response that the town of Bloomfield had to an untimely death that occurred on Saturday night reaffirmed just how wonderful the people that I grew up around really are.

Christina Lembo, a 16-year-old, beautiful Bloomfield High School student was killed in a car accident a little after 11:00 p.m. on Saturday night. Her and her two friends were a block away from Christina's house when their car was t-boned by a car that was likely participating in a drag race, by a driver who was likely drunk. Sitting in the back seat, Christina took the brunt of the impact, and died at a nearby hospital a little while after the accident.

Although I never had the pleasure of meeting Christina, I do know a lot of her friends and family, who have expressed just how wonderful of a girl she was.

I imagine myself at this time of year when I was 16. I would probably still be celebrating the awesome Sweet 16 party I had on September 15. I'd be well into my soccer season-- I'd also probably be complaining about studying for a test that probably wasn't that hard to begin with. I'd also be oblivious to the fact that I was about to lose Jamie in about two weeks.

At that time, I didn't have any real worries, until Jamie died that is. I probably was spending my Saturday nights driving around with friends the same way Christina was. I often even drove down Broughton with them--the same street that Christina was killed on.Tragedies like this make me wonder why this happens to some people, and not others. There are so many charismatic and beautiful people that are filled with love and life that don't get enough time to experience all of the wonders of the world. At 16, I hadn't experienced the best days of my life yet, or the worst. I hadn't gone through the experiences and events that shaped who I am today. I wasn't myself yet, but I was trying to be. I can just only hope that Christina had enough experiences that made her life worthwhile.

The Bloomfield community has come together so much these past few weeks with the passing of Vinnie, and now with the passing of Christina. Even if you didn't know them personally, if you live in Bloomfield you definitely know someone who knew them, and that makes them a friend. I've been far away for far too long, but when I stopped by my favorite Bloomfield bagel store this past August on the way to a concert, I was greeted by the workers as if I'd never been gone. Going back to a place where everyone knows your name, and genuinely cares about your well-being and how you've been doing, is my favorite part about returning to my hometown.

I hope that no more tragedies strike Bloomfield any time soon. We are a tough town with a strong group of residents, but I think we've proven that. I don't think we need our strength to be tested anymore.

I hope you rest easy sweet angel, and I hope that one day your family can find peace. Until then, I will be praying for them.

I love you, Bloomfield. You were my first true love, and don't you think I'll ever forget that.

Photos courtesy of www.bloomfieldpatch.com.

Happy one month anniversary NOLA

Recently, my blog posts have been a bit emotional--OK, very emotional.So today, I've decided to write a little update of my first month in NOLA. First of all, I can't believe I've been here for one month already! Time sure flies when you're helping the homeless, and having fun doing so. This past month every single aspect has changed about my life, literally: my form of transportation, new apartment, new friends, new roommate, new way to obtain food, new job, new city, etc. It's been a tough adjustment, but adapting to it all at once has been such a beautiful struggle.

Let's start out with the roommate. If I could describe her in one word it would be "wonderful." After just knowing each other for one month, Steph and I already make each other breakfast, pack each other lunch, cook each other dinner, share inside jokes, have the same passion for helping people, and most importantly, enjoy exploring the nightlife in New Orleans! Adjusting to the city and the job and all of the aspects that come with it would have been much, much harder if I was by myself. Knowing that someone else is enjoying it with me makes it all the more exciting.

Speaking of the nightlife. Unreal. There are so many treasures in the city. I've been trying to go to as many parts of town and as many streets as my limited funds will allow. On Friday, Steph and I ventured to Frenchman St. and hit up a reggae bar there. It was probably one of my favorite bars, ever (as most of you know, reggae holds a large part of my  heart). I also encountered some nice Canadians who bought me some beers and tried to give me their beads from Bourbon St.--but I assured them they needed to hold on to those as a keepsake.

There's no other way to explain it than the city comes alive at night. Yes, New York City does too, but this is entirely different. Just last Thursday I went to Bourbon St. for drinks with a friend. In the middle of the street was a band playing saxophones, trombones, drums, etc. People were dancing together, drinking together (legal to drink in the streets!), and putting their cares to the sides as the music swept them away in the city lights.

Despite all of my fun, I have encountered some hardships, though. Being away from my friends is definitely the hardest part (call and say "hi" sometimes guys), and being away from my family is up there too. There have also been some difficulties that have come along with being a VISTA: applying for food stamps, making the salary work, and the emotionally draining aspect of the job. But honestly, I wouldn't change a thing. If they paid me more, I wouldn't be getting as much out of it as I am. And if it weren't this emotional than I wouldn't be doing it in the first place.

For those of you who have already committed to coming to visit me (Des and Cait), I can't wait! For those of you who haven't, book a flight! The costs aren't too bad, and the experience I can show you will be fantastic. I promise. Plus, you get to see me, and I just decorated my room, so you're in for a fun snuggle session with great scenery.