It's pouring outside. I found this out the hard way, by having to leave Filene's (desperately in search of a dress to wear for the Marilyn Horne master class at Juilliard) in the midst of the torrential downpour, of course without an umbrella.
What do you do when it's raining outside? I prefer to stay in with a huge book and a mug of tea. I finally purchased (Tuesday) and finished (Wednesday) the new Harry Potter book and I have to say that they just keep getting better. Anyone who needs an idea about a wedding present for me can put any of the British edition Harry Potter books on the list - I can't believe I actually gave mine to the charity shop when I left England. Of all the things I could have left behind....sigh.
The familial units are doing better. Mom and Pop are moving in with their crazy friends Peter and Barbara. I don't know how well this is going to work as both of my parents are type A+ and PBJ (peter and barbara jean) are whatever the opposite of type A is - but I keep telling mom, it's better than living on the concrete floors with no sinks in the house and seeing through the walls, I know Peter and Barb don't clean the way you do, but it's a house with beds and showers and things like a fridge so you don't have to live out of the ice chest and it's only for a few months *yes, I did say MONTHS* until the builders say you can go back to the house.
One step at a time. Deep breathing. Going to Starbucks.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Thursday, September 22, 2005
fun with makeup
Today is my stage makeup class. There are few things that make me laugh more than stage makeup, largely because you end up looking like a painted doll with the false eyelashes and such, and then you get to take it all off and paint up as another character. And anyone who's never had on false eyelashes is truly missing out - I told the fiancee that if he's not careful, I'm going to get the Halloween eyelashes with the pieces of shiny tinsel mixed in and wear them on our wedding day, just for amusement purposes. Mischief mischief.
In other news, my parents are getting royally screwed by State Farm. Everything over 20 years old is considered 'valueless' in the eyes of flood insurance, all things antique are excluded from the policy, and everything else is depreciated for time. So after all of this bullshit and paying premiums for the last nearly twenty years, they will be lucky to go to IKEA and purchase an endtable and a bean bag chair. Crank up your typing fingers ladies, I smell another letter-writing campaign coming on.
I asked the fiancee the other night if he thought we would ever be able to fulfill our dream of moving back to the city, taking our kids to City Park to feed the ducks, sitting on my grandmother's porch in Metairie the way we always wanted to.
He said that we would be able to, in time, and that hopefully the city will become a better version of its former self, safer, cleaner, better protected. It just hurts my heart to think about not being able to go home for a year, two years, and then seeing the remains of what was my favorite city.
Pray hard y'all, I don't trust Rita, sitting out there waiting to strike.
In other news, my parents are getting royally screwed by State Farm. Everything over 20 years old is considered 'valueless' in the eyes of flood insurance, all things antique are excluded from the policy, and everything else is depreciated for time. So after all of this bullshit and paying premiums for the last nearly twenty years, they will be lucky to go to IKEA and purchase an endtable and a bean bag chair. Crank up your typing fingers ladies, I smell another letter-writing campaign coming on.
I asked the fiancee the other night if he thought we would ever be able to fulfill our dream of moving back to the city, taking our kids to City Park to feed the ducks, sitting on my grandmother's porch in Metairie the way we always wanted to.
He said that we would be able to, in time, and that hopefully the city will become a better version of its former self, safer, cleaner, better protected. It just hurts my heart to think about not being able to go home for a year, two years, and then seeing the remains of what was my favorite city.
Pray hard y'all, I don't trust Rita, sitting out there waiting to strike.
Monday, September 19, 2005
One great hour of levity
Just got out of my acting class to find that I've been tagged. I don't know exactly what this means, but I think it means that Stacey wants me to do this little online "whatcha know whatcha don't know" thing. So here goes.
7 things I plan to do before I die:
1. Sing on the stage of a major opera house
2. Swim with dolphins
3. Rebuild my mother's photo collection
4. Grow out my hair and donate it
5. Become fluent in German
6. Have and/or adopt children
7. Live in New Orleans with my family
7 things I can do
1. Sing in French, German, Italian and English convincingly
2. Make pies, cakes, cookies, pralines
3. Walk in funny shoes
4. Process medical insurance
5. Argue any price lower than it should be
6. Fall asleep anywhere
7. Peel shrimp and crawfish without instructions
7 things I cannot do
1. Play tennis, softball, or any sport involving a racket or bat
2. Touch cats without sneezing
3. Argue with my mother and feel okay about it
4. Sing mezzo pants roles
5. Cook normal food
6. Sit next to smokers and not intentionally (and sometimes unintentionally) cough
7. Eat take-out chinese
7 things that attract me to the opposite sex
1. A good vocabulary
2. A good sense of humor
3. Love handles, general cuddlyness
4. A good smile
5. Patience
6. Wit
7. Mischief
7 things I say most often
1. I know
2. HI-larious
3. I'm late for the train
4. Word (to your proverbial mother)
5. SAM!
6. Are we out of ice cream?
7. What's for dinner?
7 celebrity crushes
1. Harry Connick Jr. (like Stacey, since I was old enough to hear him sing)
2. Roberto Alagna
3. Colin Firth
4. Kevin Kline
5. My opera teacher (he's sort of a celebrity, very gay and unattainable)
6. David Letterman
7. Wayne Brady
7 people I want to do this:
1. Cristi
2. Drew
3. Alex (If he read my blog....I don't even think he believes in blogs)
4. Armand
5. eMac
6. Casey
7. Leontyne Price
7 things I plan to do before I die:
1. Sing on the stage of a major opera house
2. Swim with dolphins
3. Rebuild my mother's photo collection
4. Grow out my hair and donate it
5. Become fluent in German
6. Have and/or adopt children
7. Live in New Orleans with my family
7 things I can do
1. Sing in French, German, Italian and English convincingly
2. Make pies, cakes, cookies, pralines
3. Walk in funny shoes
4. Process medical insurance
5. Argue any price lower than it should be
6. Fall asleep anywhere
7. Peel shrimp and crawfish without instructions
7 things I cannot do
1. Play tennis, softball, or any sport involving a racket or bat
2. Touch cats without sneezing
3. Argue with my mother and feel okay about it
4. Sing mezzo pants roles
5. Cook normal food
6. Sit next to smokers and not intentionally (and sometimes unintentionally) cough
7. Eat take-out chinese
7 things that attract me to the opposite sex
1. A good vocabulary
2. A good sense of humor
3. Love handles, general cuddlyness
4. A good smile
5. Patience
6. Wit
7. Mischief
7 things I say most often
1. I know
2. HI-larious
3. I'm late for the train
4. Word (to your proverbial mother)
5. SAM!
6. Are we out of ice cream?
7. What's for dinner?
7 celebrity crushes
1. Harry Connick Jr. (like Stacey, since I was old enough to hear him sing)
2. Roberto Alagna
3. Colin Firth
4. Kevin Kline
5. My opera teacher (he's sort of a celebrity, very gay and unattainable)
6. David Letterman
7. Wayne Brady
7 people I want to do this:
1. Cristi
2. Drew
3. Alex (If he read my blog....I don't even think he believes in blogs)
4. Armand
5. eMac
6. Casey
7. Leontyne Price
Saturday, September 17, 2005
goodnight moon
Goodnight moon, a staple of my childhood, was among the books in a large box sitting in the bottom of our hall closet in the old house. Along with Runaway Bunny, Charlotte's Web, and the favorite out of print Acorn Magic Readers, which I have no doubt were instrumental in the development of my reading skills, my father's copy of Stuart Little was also destroyed.
Tomorrow is my brother's birthday. He will be 17 and he will spend it in the dorm with his friends and a cake that he ordered himself from Wal-Mart. My mother and father are sleeping on an airbed in the shell of their house waiting for the insurance adjustor to show up on Monday morning so they can discuss the value of what used to be our home. Mom and I spent two hours on the phone tonight, me on the internet, searching for replacement values of furniture purchased thirty years ago, a desk my father has owned since childhood, piano music I learned when I was six.
I'm not even there, and I feel so incredibly depressed I can't even breathe. I don't know how they are even there, seeing the house every day, remembering the former life that we had, sighing and throwing away piles of soggy photos that chronicled our lives, the birth of my brother, graduations, family trips, surly looks from my teenaged face, generational photos with my grandmother and great-grandmother.
The brother is nonchalant about his birthday. He mentions only that there is a stupid girl who has wronged him in some fashion which he refuses to enumerate and tells me to "chill out" because he's handling it.
I want to go home.
Tomorrow is my brother's birthday. He will be 17 and he will spend it in the dorm with his friends and a cake that he ordered himself from Wal-Mart. My mother and father are sleeping on an airbed in the shell of their house waiting for the insurance adjustor to show up on Monday morning so they can discuss the value of what used to be our home. Mom and I spent two hours on the phone tonight, me on the internet, searching for replacement values of furniture purchased thirty years ago, a desk my father has owned since childhood, piano music I learned when I was six.
I'm not even there, and I feel so incredibly depressed I can't even breathe. I don't know how they are even there, seeing the house every day, remembering the former life that we had, sighing and throwing away piles of soggy photos that chronicled our lives, the birth of my brother, graduations, family trips, surly looks from my teenaged face, generational photos with my grandmother and great-grandmother.
The brother is nonchalant about his birthday. He mentions only that there is a stupid girl who has wronged him in some fashion which he refuses to enumerate and tells me to "chill out" because he's handling it.
I want to go home.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Sleepless in Seattle
You know that part in Sleepless in Seattle where Meg Ryan and Bill Pullman are getting ready for bed and he's got the humidifier and the nasal spray and the Kleenex dangling from his nose?
That's what I look like. I had an allergy attack sometime on Sunday and, true to form, it's turning into a full-blown cold. And yes, I do have kleenes dangling from my nose. I've reached the point where the skin on my nose is so red from the rubbing and dabbing and nose-blowing and my ears pop every time I yawn.
The fiancee has been very sweet, tucking me up on the couch and bringing me tea and such. He even vacuumed the house yesterday because I was too tired. Sweet man.
And for those of you who don't know, Trinity Church (the link to the right) has agreed to host our wedding, nice people that they are. Mile and a half of aisle, here I come!
Once I can breathe through my nose again, that is. Why oh why must I have allergies?!
The folks are doing better. There is now electricity running to the house, even if there are no walls or appliances. But at least it means they can go there in the evening and turn on the lights. I think. I just hope that the house begins to look more like a house soon - mom's getting edgy sleeping on the hospital floor.
My family is so blessed. Not only did they have a safe, clean, dry and secure place to stay during the hurricane, they had cooked food to eat, and a host of people around them who were in the same boat. No one suffered any physical harm, and though it seems that my once totally New Orleans-based family is going to have to scatter for a while until houses and jobs return to normal, everyone is safe and accounted for. I saw a story on the news about these parents who put their two children on a rescue helicopter - ages 6 and 2, I believe. The parents ended up at the Astrodome. The children ended up as part of a "children's troop" led by the 6 year old, walking down Causeway boulevard with a bunch of other children who were otherwise unsupervised. All's well that ends well, but how would you feel if you had to put your children on a helicopter just to get them out of the water and then hope for the best? The damage done to lives and families is not over. It's not over just because Bush took responsibility (which I'll address at a later time) and Michael Brown resigned. It's not over because the rain stopped. And it won't be over until all of the people displaced have buried their dead, cleaned out their houses, hopefully put their houses back together, and several sets of birthdays and holidays have passed. And even then, it won't be the same.
I miss my home.
That's what I look like. I had an allergy attack sometime on Sunday and, true to form, it's turning into a full-blown cold. And yes, I do have kleenes dangling from my nose. I've reached the point where the skin on my nose is so red from the rubbing and dabbing and nose-blowing and my ears pop every time I yawn.
The fiancee has been very sweet, tucking me up on the couch and bringing me tea and such. He even vacuumed the house yesterday because I was too tired. Sweet man.
And for those of you who don't know, Trinity Church (the link to the right) has agreed to host our wedding, nice people that they are. Mile and a half of aisle, here I come!
Once I can breathe through my nose again, that is. Why oh why must I have allergies?!
The folks are doing better. There is now electricity running to the house, even if there are no walls or appliances. But at least it means they can go there in the evening and turn on the lights. I think. I just hope that the house begins to look more like a house soon - mom's getting edgy sleeping on the hospital floor.
My family is so blessed. Not only did they have a safe, clean, dry and secure place to stay during the hurricane, they had cooked food to eat, and a host of people around them who were in the same boat. No one suffered any physical harm, and though it seems that my once totally New Orleans-based family is going to have to scatter for a while until houses and jobs return to normal, everyone is safe and accounted for. I saw a story on the news about these parents who put their two children on a rescue helicopter - ages 6 and 2, I believe. The parents ended up at the Astrodome. The children ended up as part of a "children's troop" led by the 6 year old, walking down Causeway boulevard with a bunch of other children who were otherwise unsupervised. All's well that ends well, but how would you feel if you had to put your children on a helicopter just to get them out of the water and then hope for the best? The damage done to lives and families is not over. It's not over just because Bush took responsibility (which I'll address at a later time) and Michael Brown resigned. It's not over because the rain stopped. And it won't be over until all of the people displaced have buried their dead, cleaned out their houses, hopefully put their houses back together, and several sets of birthdays and holidays have passed. And even then, it won't be the same.
I miss my home.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Prosaic anger
So here's the question of the day: Was Michael Brown removed as the on-site director of hurricane relief because he's a blithering idiot and now the entire Western Hemisphere knows it, or because they didn't find as many bodies as they thought?
Talk amongst yourselves.
I'll go ahead and give Bush a few props for getting the aid bill taken care of quickly. He is taken off of the nasty letter list for today. Spoke to the mother today - she was sitting on the concrete slab in the house going through the disaster of pictures. My mother's organization system for pictures was not highly advanced and it usually involved her throwing everything into the bottom drawer of the bookcase in the living room. This means that everything in that drawer, including vacation photos, family pictures, childhood birthdays, etc, is stuck together and mildewing as we speak. Now those of you who know Miss Jean know that she is the pillar of strength. The rock of ages, as it were. And when Miss Jean sits there and cries on the phone with me about how her wedding photos are unrecognizable, something's got to be done.
A few days ago, Stacey wrote me about some Arschlog who thought it would be a good idea to trash New Orleans on an advice blog. I believe he actually referred to it as a "craphole" and one of the least beautiful cities he's ever visited. What I want to know is where people get off trashing my hometown. Even if you're from French Lick, Indiana you have some pride about your hometown. You have attachments to the places you went when you were a kid - can we say Old Town Soda Shop - and even if you don't live there anymore, there is a lingering sense of belonging. If I had to go back to Slidell, I know that I could be okay there. It's home, in a sense, and that's non-transferable. You can't touch that, and for someone to suggest that not only does New Orleans suck (where does he live, under a rock?) but that it's not worth rebuilding is like forsaking the last two hundred years of culture and history and saying it doesn't matter because I have my Ipod.
These are the people who should be pulling bodies out of the water and cleaning up the oil leaks in St. Bernard Parish because they are obviously a waste of oxygen. Somewhere, an asthmatic is gasping for air because this piece of processed meat is breathing and spewing his poisonous opinions.
Call your mother, tell her you love her. Send her some nice peppermint foot cream and a gift certificate for a pedicure. And if you see Miss Jean before I do, kiss her face.
Talk amongst yourselves.
I'll go ahead and give Bush a few props for getting the aid bill taken care of quickly. He is taken off of the nasty letter list for today. Spoke to the mother today - she was sitting on the concrete slab in the house going through the disaster of pictures. My mother's organization system for pictures was not highly advanced and it usually involved her throwing everything into the bottom drawer of the bookcase in the living room. This means that everything in that drawer, including vacation photos, family pictures, childhood birthdays, etc, is stuck together and mildewing as we speak. Now those of you who know Miss Jean know that she is the pillar of strength. The rock of ages, as it were. And when Miss Jean sits there and cries on the phone with me about how her wedding photos are unrecognizable, something's got to be done.
A few days ago, Stacey wrote me about some Arschlog who thought it would be a good idea to trash New Orleans on an advice blog. I believe he actually referred to it as a "craphole" and one of the least beautiful cities he's ever visited. What I want to know is where people get off trashing my hometown. Even if you're from French Lick, Indiana you have some pride about your hometown. You have attachments to the places you went when you were a kid - can we say Old Town Soda Shop - and even if you don't live there anymore, there is a lingering sense of belonging. If I had to go back to Slidell, I know that I could be okay there. It's home, in a sense, and that's non-transferable. You can't touch that, and for someone to suggest that not only does New Orleans suck (where does he live, under a rock?) but that it's not worth rebuilding is like forsaking the last two hundred years of culture and history and saying it doesn't matter because I have my Ipod.
These are the people who should be pulling bodies out of the water and cleaning up the oil leaks in St. Bernard Parish because they are obviously a waste of oxygen. Somewhere, an asthmatic is gasping for air because this piece of processed meat is breathing and spewing his poisonous opinions.
Call your mother, tell her you love her. Send her some nice peppermint foot cream and a gift certificate for a pedicure. And if you see Miss Jean before I do, kiss her face.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Near catastrophic events
Why Michael Brown actually IS as dumb as he looks
What, by definition, is a catastrophe?
Dictionary.com says catastrophe is:
1. A great, often sudden calamity.
2. A complete failure; a fiasco
3. The concluding action of a drama, especially a classical tragedy, following the climax and containing a resolution of the plot.
4. A sudden violent change in the earth's surface; a cataclysm.
What, in the realm of all things plausible and implausible, led FEMA Director Michael Brown to characterize the wake of the hurricane as "near catastrophic events," pray tell? Was it the part where the storm was a Category 5? Or the part where, despite a mandatory evacuation, large quantites of people were still stuck on the interstate? Or was it the storm surge that threatened to put New Orleans under water? Do these strike anyone as "near catastrophic" events, or is that someone's guilty conscience trying to downplay the fact that they dropped the ball.
In that case, since the hurricane was not actually a catastrophe, I will then elaborate on what seems to be the real catastrophe, as described so succintly by the dictionary.
See definition two: a complete failure, a fiasco. The cluster f*ck that was federal response
See definition three: The concluding action of a drama, especially a classical tragedy. What will happen when the people of New Orleans descend upon Michael Brown and go Greek on his ass - you want to sell us out? You only THINK Agamemnon had it bad. And all he did was sacrifice his daughter.
You want this to just be a near catastrophe, Michael Brown? It's about to get a hell of a lot more near than you'd like.
What, by definition, is a catastrophe?
Dictionary.com says catastrophe is:
1. A great, often sudden calamity.
2. A complete failure; a fiasco
3. The concluding action of a drama, especially a classical tragedy, following the climax and containing a resolution of the plot.
4. A sudden violent change in the earth's surface; a cataclysm.
What, in the realm of all things plausible and implausible, led FEMA Director Michael Brown to characterize the wake of the hurricane as "near catastrophic events," pray tell? Was it the part where the storm was a Category 5? Or the part where, despite a mandatory evacuation, large quantites of people were still stuck on the interstate? Or was it the storm surge that threatened to put New Orleans under water? Do these strike anyone as "near catastrophic" events, or is that someone's guilty conscience trying to downplay the fact that they dropped the ball.
In that case, since the hurricane was not actually a catastrophe, I will then elaborate on what seems to be the real catastrophe, as described so succintly by the dictionary.
See definition two: a complete failure, a fiasco. The cluster f*ck that was federal response
See definition three: The concluding action of a drama, especially a classical tragedy. What will happen when the people of New Orleans descend upon Michael Brown and go Greek on his ass - you want to sell us out? You only THINK Agamemnon had it bad. And all he did was sacrifice his daughter.
You want this to just be a near catastrophe, Michael Brown? It's about to get a hell of a lot more near than you'd like.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Someone else who's on the nasty letter list
Just got this link from Stacey:
Don't Blame Bush
Now I'm not going to say this is all Bush's fault. This may strike some of my readers as odd, because on most issues I'm not a W fan, but I'll say that he's getting on the ball. He was not on the ball, and why FEMA waited for an engraved invitation (because you were obviously on holiday in Tuscany without television and unaware, if the executives of FEMA would be so kind as to send in relief, the people of New Orleans would be most grateful. You see, while you were sipping your Mai Tai, that Category 5 just snuck up on us...) to show up and do their f-ing jobs is beyond me, but the man is trying to make things right.
That being said, Christopher Ruddy has just added himself to my nasty letter list. Read the article - he's a few steps shy of being a sadist. Sure, I'm convinced that the Louisiana State officials could have taken care of themselves and would have not required federal help.
IF:
1. the phone lines in south Louisiana had not been knocked out
2. the power in south Louisiana had not been knocked out
3. the city of New Orleans had not been under water
4. the good Witch of the North had showed up with her magic f*cking wand and made it all right
What's that? You can't help yourself? You mean you weren't completely prepared for a Category 5 hurricane? Obviously you're sleeping on the job, Mayor Nagin. I can't even believe this kind of shit gets published.
Ruddy says, "Common sense suggests that local and state governments are best able to prepare and plan for local disasters." Well that's all good and fine mister, but when your resources are UNDER WATER you're kind of at a disadvantage. We'll remember that the next time your house is on fire.
Who are these soul-less bastards? And how do they sleep at night, I want to know.
The Today Show has already received two nasty emails about Campbell Brown, that turncoat hosebag who tried to point the finger at Ray Nagin on television. Yeah, real smooth there Campbell - point the finger at the mayor of New Orleans who's been down there pulling bodies out of the water. I'm sorry, what were you doing? Getting a pedicure? Going to your Pilates class? Doing the Times crossword? Don't even try to hold that candle to Ray Nagin honey, your cheap suit will catch on fire and it will take FEMA a week to get to your charred ass.
What happened to the sense of humanity? To reach out and help your neighbor? To help and protect those less fortunate? Why should the poor, sick and elderly be allowed to participate in social cleansing because no one feels like it's their responsibility to help? IT'S JUST WRONG. You don't wait for a city in need to ask for help. No one waited for the citizens of New York to say, "Excuse us, but could someone please send help? Lunatics have crashed planes into the World Trade Center." Why should this be any different? We even saw it coming.
And I'm not talking about Christian sentiment here. This is a sentiment that supercedes all lines of organized religion. This is a sentiment that says, "If I'm in serious trouble, someone will have the decency to reach out and help me."
As my beloved would say from time to time, "F*ck you, nasty letter to follow."
And my nasty letters only get nastier when I don't get a response.
Don't Blame Bush
Now I'm not going to say this is all Bush's fault. This may strike some of my readers as odd, because on most issues I'm not a W fan, but I'll say that he's getting on the ball. He was not on the ball, and why FEMA waited for an engraved invitation (because you were obviously on holiday in Tuscany without television and unaware, if the executives of FEMA would be so kind as to send in relief, the people of New Orleans would be most grateful. You see, while you were sipping your Mai Tai, that Category 5 just snuck up on us...) to show up and do their f-ing jobs is beyond me, but the man is trying to make things right.
That being said, Christopher Ruddy has just added himself to my nasty letter list. Read the article - he's a few steps shy of being a sadist. Sure, I'm convinced that the Louisiana State officials could have taken care of themselves and would have not required federal help.
IF:
1. the phone lines in south Louisiana had not been knocked out
2. the power in south Louisiana had not been knocked out
3. the city of New Orleans had not been under water
4. the good Witch of the North had showed up with her magic f*cking wand and made it all right
What's that? You can't help yourself? You mean you weren't completely prepared for a Category 5 hurricane? Obviously you're sleeping on the job, Mayor Nagin. I can't even believe this kind of shit gets published.
Ruddy says, "Common sense suggests that local and state governments are best able to prepare and plan for local disasters." Well that's all good and fine mister, but when your resources are UNDER WATER you're kind of at a disadvantage. We'll remember that the next time your house is on fire.
Who are these soul-less bastards? And how do they sleep at night, I want to know.
The Today Show has already received two nasty emails about Campbell Brown, that turncoat hosebag who tried to point the finger at Ray Nagin on television. Yeah, real smooth there Campbell - point the finger at the mayor of New Orleans who's been down there pulling bodies out of the water. I'm sorry, what were you doing? Getting a pedicure? Going to your Pilates class? Doing the Times crossword? Don't even try to hold that candle to Ray Nagin honey, your cheap suit will catch on fire and it will take FEMA a week to get to your charred ass.
What happened to the sense of humanity? To reach out and help your neighbor? To help and protect those less fortunate? Why should the poor, sick and elderly be allowed to participate in social cleansing because no one feels like it's their responsibility to help? IT'S JUST WRONG. You don't wait for a city in need to ask for help. No one waited for the citizens of New York to say, "Excuse us, but could someone please send help? Lunatics have crashed planes into the World Trade Center." Why should this be any different? We even saw it coming.
And I'm not talking about Christian sentiment here. This is a sentiment that supercedes all lines of organized religion. This is a sentiment that says, "If I'm in serious trouble, someone will have the decency to reach out and help me."
As my beloved would say from time to time, "F*ck you, nasty letter to follow."
And my nasty letters only get nastier when I don't get a response.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Damn Yankees
Okay, I am officially furious. I watched this interview on MSNBC.com between Mayor Ray Nagin and Campbell Brown:
The help did not come
Click the link, and scroll down to the "More Katrina Videos" section to the interview of the above name.
I already sent one scathing email to the Today Show blasting them for having such a moron as Campbell Brown covering this event when she PLAINLY has no idea what she is talking about, but have also sent a group email to my friends with the link.
Watch the interview. I especially like the part where she asks him, and I'm quoting,
"Well Mr. Mayor, why didn't you do anything? You're the mayor of the city...Don't you bear some responsibility for what's happened here?"
Well Campbell Brown, why didn't YOU do anything. Why didn't YOU go down to the ninth ward and knock on doors and tell people to leave the city. Why didn't YOU volunteer for the Red Cross and donate your salary to the Hurricane Relief? And HOW DARE YOU stand in judgment over Ray Nagin when you have not been there since day one, when you have not stood alongside him and pulled bodies out of the water and smelled the stench of flesh and human waste inside the Superdome.
It's so easy to sit back in your New York office and look at New Orleans and say "Those people should have gotten themselves out of the city. They should have gotten out when they had the time. It's their own fault." And that is the response of anyone who has never set foot in New Orleans, or tried to drive out of it during a hurricane evacuation. Yes, contraflow was a good idea, but when it only goes as far as Baton Rouge, all it does is create a giant traffic jam in the middle of the city of Baton Rouge. I suppose the theory is that BR is far enough inland to be safe but sorry people, BR is NOT big enough to house every person who lives in the greater New Orleans area last time I checked.
Unmitigated ignorance, audacity, and sheer gall. When I get Campbell Brown's address I'm going to write her a personal letter and ask her if she feels she's done enough now. If she feels it's enough to go on television and point the finger at the Mayor of New Orleans. I don't see her pulling out her carpet knife and going house to house helping people. I don't see her feeding the refugees or offering up her house to house them. She should just go ahead and donate her salary now because that would be the only worthwhile thing she could possibly do to redeem her status from a soul-less damn Yankee.
Take your f*cking carpetbag and go back up North, drink your mochaccino and think you're superior. Don't come back, we don't want your kind around to suck up the oxygen. Bottom feeder.
The help did not come
Click the link, and scroll down to the "More Katrina Videos" section to the interview of the above name.
I already sent one scathing email to the Today Show blasting them for having such a moron as Campbell Brown covering this event when she PLAINLY has no idea what she is talking about, but have also sent a group email to my friends with the link.
Watch the interview. I especially like the part where she asks him, and I'm quoting,
"Well Mr. Mayor, why didn't you do anything? You're the mayor of the city...Don't you bear some responsibility for what's happened here?"
Well Campbell Brown, why didn't YOU do anything. Why didn't YOU go down to the ninth ward and knock on doors and tell people to leave the city. Why didn't YOU volunteer for the Red Cross and donate your salary to the Hurricane Relief? And HOW DARE YOU stand in judgment over Ray Nagin when you have not been there since day one, when you have not stood alongside him and pulled bodies out of the water and smelled the stench of flesh and human waste inside the Superdome.
It's so easy to sit back in your New York office and look at New Orleans and say "Those people should have gotten themselves out of the city. They should have gotten out when they had the time. It's their own fault." And that is the response of anyone who has never set foot in New Orleans, or tried to drive out of it during a hurricane evacuation. Yes, contraflow was a good idea, but when it only goes as far as Baton Rouge, all it does is create a giant traffic jam in the middle of the city of Baton Rouge. I suppose the theory is that BR is far enough inland to be safe but sorry people, BR is NOT big enough to house every person who lives in the greater New Orleans area last time I checked.
Unmitigated ignorance, audacity, and sheer gall. When I get Campbell Brown's address I'm going to write her a personal letter and ask her if she feels she's done enough now. If she feels it's enough to go on television and point the finger at the Mayor of New Orleans. I don't see her pulling out her carpet knife and going house to house helping people. I don't see her feeding the refugees or offering up her house to house them. She should just go ahead and donate her salary now because that would be the only worthwhile thing she could possibly do to redeem her status from a soul-less damn Yankee.
Take your f*cking carpetbag and go back up North, drink your mochaccino and think you're superior. Don't come back, we don't want your kind around to suck up the oxygen. Bottom feeder.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Do you know what it means?
Okay, I have finally reached my breaking point. DP talked about not being able to cry, feeling dammed up inside and not knowing when it was going to give way. Tonight was my undoing. It's bad enough that everywhere I turn on the T, someone is reading a copy of the Boston Globe with the giant pictures of my beloved city in ruin and the headling "DESTRUCTION" screaming out at me, but tonight when NBC aired their hurricane relief concert, not only was I subjected to Aaron Neville, but Harry Connick Jr. went on TV and sang "Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?"
Now I have a little speech that I give to foreigners about how to pronounce the name of my hometown. And one is only allowed to say "New Orleens" when singing the aforementioned song. And I have to say that I bawled like a baby.
The whole city is hurting. And I'm hurting with it.
Now I have a little speech that I give to foreigners about how to pronounce the name of my hometown. And one is only allowed to say "New Orleens" when singing the aforementioned song. And I have to say that I bawled like a baby.
The whole city is hurting. And I'm hurting with it.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
day four
The grandparents have taken refuge in Texas, the parents are going to and from the house to make salvage runs, and we're still waiting for phone lines to be restored.
Don't know what the next step is for my parents, or for the rest of my family. Many have children who are supposed to graduate high school in New Orleans this year, but that seems impossible now. Reports of price gouging in Mississippi for gas and Memphis for apartments, short-term rentals. Have no idea where my parents will make camp until their house is repaired, if they even choose to stay there.
Don't know what the next step is for me - the location of my wedding is uncertain, as the city of my choice will probably not be open for business...
Sorry to be so scattered, have been poked and prodded for information by every member of my family. Only wish I knew more.
For every family member who desperately wants to talk to their relatives as much as I do, my heart goes out to you. The silence is deafening and I have to resist the urge to throw my phone against the wall every time I get the "due to the hurricane in the area you are attempting to call" message. I can't watch the television any more, the pictures are so saddening, the videos of people who were perhaps once sane and civil, turned animal in the streets.
And the president is doing an aerial tour. Not that I blame his security - I wouldn't want to drop down in the middle of that madness. But I doubt he will be able to fully appreciate the destruction without seeing the faces of the desperate people who have lost everything and are held hostage by the lunatics with guns on the ground.
Keep praying y'all, the worst is NOT over
Don't know what the next step is for my parents, or for the rest of my family. Many have children who are supposed to graduate high school in New Orleans this year, but that seems impossible now. Reports of price gouging in Mississippi for gas and Memphis for apartments, short-term rentals. Have no idea where my parents will make camp until their house is repaired, if they even choose to stay there.
Don't know what the next step is for me - the location of my wedding is uncertain, as the city of my choice will probably not be open for business...
Sorry to be so scattered, have been poked and prodded for information by every member of my family. Only wish I knew more.
For every family member who desperately wants to talk to their relatives as much as I do, my heart goes out to you. The silence is deafening and I have to resist the urge to throw my phone against the wall every time I get the "due to the hurricane in the area you are attempting to call" message. I can't watch the television any more, the pictures are so saddening, the videos of people who were perhaps once sane and civil, turned animal in the streets.
And the president is doing an aerial tour. Not that I blame his security - I wouldn't want to drop down in the middle of that madness. But I doubt he will be able to fully appreciate the destruction without seeing the faces of the desperate people who have lost everything and are held hostage by the lunatics with guns on the ground.
Keep praying y'all, the worst is NOT over
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
I once was lost, but now am found
Praise the Lord, Jean Hindrichs is safe and sound - and when I get a hold of her she's going to get the tongue lashing of her lifetime - and with my father. Don't know what the immediate plan is, but she's safe and that's all that matters!
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
one little, two little, three little Hindrichs
Here's the latest from hysteria hurricane central:
My grandparents, though crotchety, took a tree through the bedroom roof. They still refuse to leave. My grandfather is industrious as ever, helping his neighbors clean up debris. I have not heard their voices, but my aunt spoke to their neighbor via satellite phone.
My father is still at the hospital, where he has remained since Sunday night. They have no AC, are running on backup generator power, and no phones, but he called from a satellite phone to tell me he's okay.
My mother.
My mother is not okay. My mother is still MIA and it does NOT make me happy and even if she is just holed up in the attic of our house waiting for the national guard to get her out I want to talk to her. I want the cell phone towers to magically mend and a signal clear as day to come through to tell me she is all right. I never again want to have to bite my lip while I talk to every school administrator possible to find my brother so I can tell him that no, our mother has not yet surfaced. He's a teenager so his first response is anger but I know he is hurting as much as I am. I don't want to have to call my aunt and tell her that her youngest sister is still not found.
Pray hard people - she's a pain in the ass but she's my mother and I don't get a trade-in.
My grandparents, though crotchety, took a tree through the bedroom roof. They still refuse to leave. My grandfather is industrious as ever, helping his neighbors clean up debris. I have not heard their voices, but my aunt spoke to their neighbor via satellite phone.
My father is still at the hospital, where he has remained since Sunday night. They have no AC, are running on backup generator power, and no phones, but he called from a satellite phone to tell me he's okay.
My mother.
My mother is not okay. My mother is still MIA and it does NOT make me happy and even if she is just holed up in the attic of our house waiting for the national guard to get her out I want to talk to her. I want the cell phone towers to magically mend and a signal clear as day to come through to tell me she is all right. I never again want to have to bite my lip while I talk to every school administrator possible to find my brother so I can tell him that no, our mother has not yet surfaced. He's a teenager so his first response is anger but I know he is hurting as much as I am. I don't want to have to call my aunt and tell her that her youngest sister is still not found.
Pray hard people - she's a pain in the ass but she's my mother and I don't get a trade-in.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Carrier pigeons
As in I need one.
Spent most of the day fretting (fretfretfret) and trying to call the homeland, but to no avail. I speculate that mom is cleaning up the yard and the shards of glass if there are any, and playing with the dog. It is my fondest hope that the house remained the island as she and pop promised it would, and that everyone is okay. Looking at the news only makes me depressed, especially with the moron patrol reporting live from Biloxi (pronounced by these yahoos "bilocksi") from inside their Hurricane-mobiles and talking about how the water is just sitting now, filled with the debris of houses and roofing shingles and lawn furniture. NO East is underwater so getting across the lake is out of the question, and even if my folks could leave the driveway I doubt they would.
No word since early this morning. I'm about to break out the smoke signals. I know I should be more patient but I just want to hear my mother's voice so I can tell her I'm mad at her for not going to a shelter like a sane person and making me worry all the day long.
Slow busy signal = busy
Fast busy signal = disconnected/out of order?
Spent most of the day fretting (fretfretfret) and trying to call the homeland, but to no avail. I speculate that mom is cleaning up the yard and the shards of glass if there are any, and playing with the dog. It is my fondest hope that the house remained the island as she and pop promised it would, and that everyone is okay. Looking at the news only makes me depressed, especially with the moron patrol reporting live from Biloxi (pronounced by these yahoos "bilocksi") from inside their Hurricane-mobiles and talking about how the water is just sitting now, filled with the debris of houses and roofing shingles and lawn furniture. NO East is underwater so getting across the lake is out of the question, and even if my folks could leave the driveway I doubt they would.
No word since early this morning. I'm about to break out the smoke signals. I know I should be more patient but I just want to hear my mother's voice so I can tell her I'm mad at her for not going to a shelter like a sane person and making me worry all the day long.
Slow busy signal = busy
Fast busy signal = disconnected/out of order?
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Contraflow
This word sounds like something that's used to tune a bass clarinet, but "contraflow" (a word that has only recently entered my vocabulary) pertains to the redirection of traffic for purposes of evacuation. Namely, the evacuation of the greater New Orleans area.
And where, you might ask, are the other members of my family?
My brother is happily holed up in his dorm in Natchitoches, probably continuing to play online war games against his dorm-mates, eating mac and cheese, watching videos.
My mother and father, much to my consternation, have decided to stay put. That's right kids, a category FIVE hurricane is headed straight for the greater New Orleans area, and my parents are holing up in their house in Slidell with Max the dachsund and their recent purchases from Sam's Club, and they plan to wait it out. I'm not an alarmist by nature. I've sat through many hurricanes, calmly putting tape on the windows and putting the old piano up on books and going to the grocery to get gallons of water and later in the dorm, going down to Kroger to rent videos in preparation for the hurricane party to be held while school was closed and the city curfew was in effect. But when a hurricane of this magnitude shows up, you get the heck out and that's all there is to it. I don't know if my folks have become senile or just plain old ornery, but this "we've weathered it before, we'll do it again" mentality makes me very nervous.
Pray hard y'all, this could be the big one. And if it does, I just might be getting married on the Algiers ferry after all - providing that the riverbanks are still intact.
And to anyone who lives in the region, be safe and check in when you get a moment.
And where, you might ask, are the other members of my family?
My brother is happily holed up in his dorm in Natchitoches, probably continuing to play online war games against his dorm-mates, eating mac and cheese, watching videos.
My mother and father, much to my consternation, have decided to stay put. That's right kids, a category FIVE hurricane is headed straight for the greater New Orleans area, and my parents are holing up in their house in Slidell with Max the dachsund and their recent purchases from Sam's Club, and they plan to wait it out. I'm not an alarmist by nature. I've sat through many hurricanes, calmly putting tape on the windows and putting the old piano up on books and going to the grocery to get gallons of water and later in the dorm, going down to Kroger to rent videos in preparation for the hurricane party to be held while school was closed and the city curfew was in effect. But when a hurricane of this magnitude shows up, you get the heck out and that's all there is to it. I don't know if my folks have become senile or just plain old ornery, but this "we've weathered it before, we'll do it again" mentality makes me very nervous.
Pray hard y'all, this could be the big one. And if it does, I just might be getting married on the Algiers ferry after all - providing that the riverbanks are still intact.
And to anyone who lives in the region, be safe and check in when you get a moment.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Candide
My housemate Joel is blasting Candide from his room. It's another lazy day in Newton, going to work more on the swing, might clean the floors today. Took the fiancee to the airport this morning at 5:45am. Driving in Boston isn't nearly so hideous when there's no one on the road, and the skyline is really quite lovely. Reminds me of DC - not like NYC with all the tall buildings.
Spoke with the pastor this morning about wedding plans. He is, as ever, wonderful and completely sympathetic to the pre-wedding madness that seems to ensue for every bride. Am awaiting a package in the mail from the mother that is meant to contain the invitations - hopefully this will come before school starts so I can begin the long process of addressing them. Blech. Maybe I can find a nice handwriting-ish font that doesn't look too computerized.....don't tell Emily Post.
Not so much to say today - big shoutout to the DP and her job hijinx. Just remember, if all else fails, switch to another language. I think from now on, when someone bugs me, I'm just going to start talking in German.
Spoke with the pastor this morning about wedding plans. He is, as ever, wonderful and completely sympathetic to the pre-wedding madness that seems to ensue for every bride. Am awaiting a package in the mail from the mother that is meant to contain the invitations - hopefully this will come before school starts so I can begin the long process of addressing them. Blech. Maybe I can find a nice handwriting-ish font that doesn't look too computerized.....don't tell Emily Post.
Not so much to say today - big shoutout to the DP and her job hijinx. Just remember, if all else fails, switch to another language. I think from now on, when someone bugs me, I'm just going to start talking in German.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Things to do when school hasn't started yet
School starts on Sept 7th. Orientation begins this coming Sunday, which I think involves a series of meetings that I've already attended at least once every time I started another year of grad school where they explain financial responsibility to us and tell us to budget our time. I find this ironic as almost no one who's going to graduate school for music budgets their time according to one of those "how to work and go to school at the same time" books that say things like:
1. take naps whenever you can
2. do your homework before dinner
3. try not to stay up or work too late
simply because
1. musicians don't nap, they practice
2. our homework doesn't get done until we're out of rehearsal
3. staying up and working late is what allows us to work so you do the math
But until I go back to the daily grind, I'm enjoying a little bit of free time. Not the kind of free time that involves putting off things you have to do, but real free time. Yesterday, I took down all 16 sets of blinds and hosed them down in the back yard. Today, after cleaning the kitchen and putting up pictures and diplomas on the walls, I got the idea to sand and refinish my porch swing. Nothing is easy to find in Massachusetts so 30 minutes later we finally found the Home Depot. The fiancee is better at city driving than I, so I am the official navigator (barring today's experience, where I failed miserably) of our journeys into the wilderness. Tomorrow we go to Framingham to pick up some air conditioning units. Once again, northern social Darwinism at work, there is no AC in our house. So far it's been really okay - Boston is having "unseasonably cool" weather that permits us to keep the windows open and a box fan going, nothing so barbaric as what I experienced in the dorm in Vermont.
Tomorrow we'll finish sanding down the swing and start on the base - hopefully it'll be sanded and stained by tomorrow evening and I can drag it into the garage to dry. And then, I think I'll start on the window washing adventure. (Emily, your OCD is showing.....)
Hope everyone is enjoying the "unseasonably cool" weather as well. I'm going to take a walk and see the gas lights in the next block.
1. take naps whenever you can
2. do your homework before dinner
3. try not to stay up or work too late
simply because
1. musicians don't nap, they practice
2. our homework doesn't get done until we're out of rehearsal
3. staying up and working late is what allows us to work so you do the math
But until I go back to the daily grind, I'm enjoying a little bit of free time. Not the kind of free time that involves putting off things you have to do, but real free time. Yesterday, I took down all 16 sets of blinds and hosed them down in the back yard. Today, after cleaning the kitchen and putting up pictures and diplomas on the walls, I got the idea to sand and refinish my porch swing. Nothing is easy to find in Massachusetts so 30 minutes later we finally found the Home Depot. The fiancee is better at city driving than I, so I am the official navigator (barring today's experience, where I failed miserably) of our journeys into the wilderness. Tomorrow we go to Framingham to pick up some air conditioning units. Once again, northern social Darwinism at work, there is no AC in our house. So far it's been really okay - Boston is having "unseasonably cool" weather that permits us to keep the windows open and a box fan going, nothing so barbaric as what I experienced in the dorm in Vermont.
Tomorrow we'll finish sanding down the swing and start on the base - hopefully it'll be sanded and stained by tomorrow evening and I can drag it into the garage to dry. And then, I think I'll start on the window washing adventure. (Emily, your OCD is showing.....)
Hope everyone is enjoying the "unseasonably cool" weather as well. I'm going to take a walk and see the gas lights in the next block.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Why blank cards are better
So I was amusing myself by reading a little online news while my housemates watch When Harry Met Sally and came across this story on MSNBC. I do not know which online news channels are better and even though I read the New York Times online, I still dabble in the everyday trash. And I have to ask, have we reached such a point in social norms that it is socially acceptable to send greeting cards to extramarital affair participants? Will there soon be greeting cards addressed "To the girl my brother hooks up with when his wife is out of town"?
Sidebar: Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan singing "Surrey with the fringe on top" is on the list of the most hilarious things ever.
Sidebar: Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan singing "Surrey with the fringe on top" is on the list of the most hilarious things ever.
Fig Newton
Day three of the new house. So far, the living room is almost box free, I can see the floor in my office now, and we managed to eat dinner on a card table in the middle of the dining room last night, betwixt the boxes of books and the porch swing. We have no porch, as such, and the back yard is on a hill (with a very sweet strawberry patch) but I have to say, the house is possibly the larges domicile in which I have lived since my parents' house. I actually don't have enough clothes to fill my walk-in closet. I don't have enough shoes to fill the shoe rack and that is pretty amazing. My landlord is AWESOME and loves dogs so that bodes well for Sam, and the only minor snafu involved the circus taking place in the driveway. Lots to do, several boxes to unpack (the office WILL be done today) and then I start work in the morning at Trinity Boston - see the link at the right if you're interested!
Updates as they arise, go Beantown!
Updates as they arise, go Beantown!
Thursday, August 11, 2005
the end of the line
Okay,I know that I'm really desperate for american filmage when I watch Vier Hochzeiten und ein Todesfall.
And just for DP - the part where Mr. Bean is the priest and he says "in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spigot" - in German it was translated as "in der Name des Vaters, des Sohns und die Heiligen Schweizer." Wow.
And just for DP - the part where Mr. Bean is the priest and he says "in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spigot" - in German it was translated as "in der Name des Vaters, des Sohns und die Heiligen Schweizer." Wow.
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