The start

Like normal, life isn’t noteworthy; thus, I’ve overload contemplating how I’ll spend Thanksgiving and Christmas. It’s kind of pathetic really. I haven’t been home for almost a year, so it’s more bittersweet than usual. I mean, I like going home during the holidays: I miss the cold, the snow, the changing of the seasons - everything about home and the winter. Yet family is stressful. So bittersweet.

It also rationalized a huge (won’t say the amount) shopping day this weekend. I love winter cloths and the amount of options one has for fashion during the winter months is endless. I mean the summer is a matter of choosing what t-shirt goes with your shorts. Mix and match solids with strips, and throw in a polo shirt for a little less casual. Maybe a button down shirts (but honestly I don’t really like short sleeve button down shirts). So winter gives a lot more opportunity for variety. The issue is price point vs. utilization. Spending more than $100 on an article of clothing being worn only a few times isn’t economical. I mean, it can be worn… just between the hours of 8pm and 7am. Assuming you won’t be going into any type of established structure at the time, because (of course) every place turns up the heat to summer proportions – even though during the summer it’s the exact opposite. Thus, it’s hard to rationalize expenditure on cloths while supporting two people, a dog, and cat is hard enough. I need to be responsible. But of course, being responsible is planning on spending two weeks at home. So I went all out this weekend.

The thing is, I hate the cold. Detest the cold. I was on the balcony in New Orleans last weekend shivering in pants and long sleeves because it was below 60. I need to check myself for lack of iron, because it’s unnatural the way I shatter when just a little cold. So honestly, no amount of winter clothing will justify my visit home. So now my credit card bill just makes me sad.

Fall Onset - September's End

Falls starting to onset; which means several things. One, it’s my favorite time of the year. Two, it’s my birthday. And, so it’s only natural that I begin to get nostalgic and a little depressed. I mean, fall in Louisiana sucks. Yes, it gets cool. But not jacket weather cool, and I really being to miss my roots where season actually existed. I was talking with someone (which I don’t remember) and they explained that Louisiana’s season involve festivals. Christmas, Mardi Gras, summer, and football. While I guess this is a good way to rationalize a boring change, seasons are supposed to be a an all out change. One day you wake up and you need a jacket. All the sudden you go from leaving the house carefree, to required clothing change. Then enters the first day you wake up and the grounds covered in snow. Not only is a clothing change required, but now it takes a good ten minutes to leave for work – more layer, deice the car, shovel the drive, etc. It’s enjoyable until February enters and the weather is even more brutal, and you are just ready for everything to be over. Then one day you wake up and its spring. You can leave the house without a jacket; and everyone takes the opportunity to be outside. Walking. Running. Everything. The days are amazing.

The not so fallish Mississippi River bluff.

The river bend.

So that is how seasons are supposed too function. And the changing from summer to fall always happens at my birthday. Thus, I get a little depressed. This year was even worse because I was going from my twenties to my thirties. So I held a party. Of course, being thirty, the party is funded directly from my bank account. Thus nothing note worthy, except a good gathering of friends. So the following day I decided to take my time and wonder the city. I visited the LSU campus, along with some development sites around the city to quench my urban planning nerdiness, and update my blog. I ended up at the bluffs on the Southern University campus. The only place in Baton Rouge with terrain. It was nice. I pretended the leaves were changing. They aren’t. I pretended it wasn’t hot. It was. But oh well.  I returned home to decide how to spend my birthday weekend night. I poured some Jack and debated where I should go. Around 10:30 a friend got into my head that I should go to New Orleans instead of going to Baton Rouge. I thought it was a good idea. Having not heard from them in an hour. I decided to just go. Mind you, I was now destined for a failure of a night. I mean I live in Baton Rouge, have a routine life, and now I’m thirty. While this is ideal for a stable life, and has allowed me to lose thirty pounds and look pretty good… it’s boring. So my trip to New Orleans was – in my head – to spice things up. But, common, it’s New Orleans. Other than hanging out on the balconies, and doing a little dancing. There’s not much spice to be had. I returned home the following morning accomplishing exactly what I wanted. A boring night out.

So that’s the start of my thirties. The actual birthday night was just as exciting. The thing is, people think it’s suppose to be exciting. But I can do what I want. And that is nothing, right now.

A drinking club with a running problem

I’ve never participated in the New Orleans Red Dress run, so I decided this was the weekend to do so. The event supposedly brings out over 10,000 people. You many ask, what causes 10,000 (mostly straight) people to put on a dress in the dead of summer and, well, drink; because that is the only concept surrounding the event. It's not drag (as my friend pointed out); there is no makeup, there are no shoes, there is no “event”; just a red dress, drinking, and the occasional purse - which is needed only for utilitarian purposes. In fact, I never witnessed any running. But quiet honestly I would question anyone running drunk in New Orleans during the afternoon (not the fact they had a dress on).

As background, the Red Dress Run is apparently organized by the local Chapter of the Hash House Harriers, which dates back to colonial British times when some British officers wrote a 'constitution' for their 'group' in Kuala Lumpur. This tradition has been passed down, and now Chapters can be found all over the world; although New Orleans has seemingly the largest event. Just in case you were wondering. 

So my pre-party began around 10 (no one was sure the actual beginning time). Around noon I headed over to Washington Park in the Marginy, where the epicenter lied around Frenchman Street. This is about the time it became hot. Really hot. To the extent someone had filled their truck bed as to create a pool. A red-neck move, yes; but believe me, it was a good idea. After my Bloody Mary and a walk to the Marigny, there wasn’t an ounce of water left in my body. Dehydration was setting in fast, and the large mass of people only accelerated the issue. We didn't linger long in Washington Park, but instead headed back to the quarter where water and chairs were more easily found.

This event rivaled the likes of Mari Gras (but oddly absent of any beads whatsoever). The streets in the quarter were packed by 3:00 and didn’t let up all day/night. So I opened a bar tab... Mistake. I went to close my tab around 8:00 and was told that I already closed my tab. I was like. No, I did not. Neither had my driver’s license been returned. So if indeed my tab was closed, some random person closed my tab and acquired a credit card and diver’s license. Which I am sure they thought was awesome. I have another view. When I inquired further on what happened to my card, he got rather rude. At which point I left for a reevaluation. When I later returned, he held true to his original answer. So. The card is cancelled, I have a credit watch out, and I will dispute any charge on the card that I didn’t make. At that point in time, we will see who signed my credit card slip. My idea? It was opened this entire time. And they closed my tab after discovering it was opened. Thus still having my ID. When this happens I hope he feels bad that he not only lost my card, but was rude to me when I objected. 

 

 

Another hot weekend

I'm not sure what's up here of lately. Either Baton Rouge is truly boring, or I'm just in a New Orleans mood. Honestly, I haven't participated in actual events since my move. Which is why I decided to see what White Linen Night was all about.

I spent my Friday cleaning the house, and then afterwards purchased a new pair of shorts, which was required to attend WLN. During the process I even found a hat. I like hats.

So after an hour drive, and sweltering, ungodly heat - I made my way to Julia Street decked out in a white shirt and strutting a nice white fedora. Well, after the mile and a half walk I question the wisdom of anyone to wear white while covered in sweat. Really my annoyance was more to the fact that I got bored rather quickly. It was partly my fault. Every single one of my friends that I had planned on meeting didn't show. That's usually fine with me... I like alone time. But the only thing really going on was the art gallerias. There was one or two bands. But that was about it.

I did find it odd that I usually enjoy events like this in Baton Rouge (typically copy-cat attempts to the events such as these). But Baton Rouge is more grass roots. The art gallerias in New Orleans are on par with world famous, so it looses the Bohemia affect. That coupled with the fact their typical clientele aren't ones that pretend dress retro-white for the night; heading to Bourbon Street for a late night.

But the event does draw attention to the area, so that's cool.

The one realization (that I come to time and time again) are the many different realms of New Orleans. After I got dressed I walked to the Warehouse District, via the Quarter in my white attire. No one had dress remotely similar, and all wondering why I had chose such a misinformed outfit for the night. It was weird. The event was suppose to be large. Even after crossing Canal Street and making my way to Poydress, I was still out of place. It wasn't until I crossed Poydress when I started seeing people of my kind. Then on arrival the place was packed. 

But anyway. It was hot. And I left early for a shower and proper 'going out' dress. I then remembered another reason I like New Orleans.

Blogging Again

So I sat down this weekend and decided to move my previous blog to my current (but not updated) blog space. I realized a few things (which doesn't include the extreme difficulties of the transfer that took three hours of a wasted weekend). First I was completely amazed on how long MySpace held on. I mean, back in the 2005’s MySpace was really really awesome. Facebook was just, like, huh. Whatever. But what I didn’t realize was the fact I kept updating my MySpace until the middle of 2008. I had no idea it held on that long. Cause I mean, Facebook is so cool now.

The second fact... well more of a realization, was how interesting my life was. I mean, I totally blogged weekly, and sometimes daily. I mean, sure, when I was traveling I would blog. But I would even blog frequently just about my mundane life. Well, I say mundane, but I had tons of followers (like 20) and lots of people would post comments on my blog (like several). How has my life become so boring? Is if because I spend more time working out, showering, and sleeping? Is it because I’d rather sit in front of the TV brain dead after work? Is it because I have to walk a dog now?

Probably all of those.

But as I’m skimming those blog entries I’m thinking (other then why people would read the post), self, I could have summed that entire blog up in one Facebook status. Why did I spend ten minutes writing that blog. Writing the blog on a computer for that matter; in lieu of spending five seconds at the bar - followed by awesome comments from hundreds of my friends that I didn’t know I had until Facebook solidified our friendships.

Wow. Facebook killed the boring, everyday blogger. That in itself is boring. Well, kinda. I also realized that I have a routine now, so I have more time. But that time is spent being boring. So why not spice it up with more ten minute blogs?