Grant me wings that I might fly
Yesterday marks my one week anniversary of my life in New Orleans. It also marks the 24th anniversary of Brenna's time on the Earth, as well as that of a certain important event in my own life - but we won't get into that. Yesterday was Valentines day.
And as free as I feel, it is funny to see that it took me less than a week to become entangled in so many different struggles. There is my struggle to pay for my bed each night, the struggle of a small shop to remain open after nearly 30 years on Bourbon street - there are the struggles that I don't know personally, but which I am beginning to recognize and respect - the struggle of those who live in this city and fight for normalcy and repair. And there are my own personal battles, which took absolutely no time to establish themselves prominently in my psyche. One is about my life. The other is about a boy. Or worse, about two boys.
I know, I know, compared to the needs of a population who have suffered a series of inconceivable natural disasters and who face daunting tasks of reparation, I've basicly got it made. I mean, a choice between boys? A problem? Seriously? The complaint is laughable. Unless it's your complaint.
I don't know what I'm going to do, come April. Or actually, April is not the issue at all. In April I will return to Rhode Island for Jamie's birthday, Supersale, for Tour de Cure, the kickoff of Sidereus, and probably for a sham wedding. The real question is what happens March 1. Will I stay in Rhode Island? For how long? Or will I pull a delayed abandonment and return to NO knowing that I had, at the very least, dragged the shop through the nightmare of Supersale?
Reasons to stay in Rhode Island include: working at the shop, running a 'Rolling Along' workshop for Caster's and GSRI, enjoying the beautiful New England summer, and spending time with my friends and family.
Reasons to stay in NO include: the life I hope to have established by then (If I haven't, then this whole argument will be null and void)
Deterrents to New Orleans are the ungodly summer weather and the threat of natural disaster. That's basicly it. The only issue with staying the summer months in RI (other than messing with my life here) is obtaining housing for such a temporary amount of time.
And then there's the same juggling game with the boys.
Everything is too premature for all this pondering and listing and pro-and-conning and planning. I haven't chosen my job, yet, I don't know how it will be between myself and the boy who I seem to like... I am not volunteering in a real way, yet. This is the strangest purgetory I've ever lived in - it's nearly enjoyable. It's entry level. How unique. How new. How stressfully wonderful.
It is good to be alive.