when the subway ride is about as long as your flight...

I'm back in New York and yes, I spent about as much time on the A train as I spent on the flight from NOLA. I was going to say that I miss being in a city that smells like flowers and good, good food, but not everywhere in New Orleans smells great. My house, for example. You can see the ground through the floorboards in my living room. That's what 2 weeks of 10 feet of sitting water will do to a house. Gross. I took more pictures of our near empty house, and I got to peel through some of my old journals. The ones for which the ink didn't entirely wash away. They're infested with bugs and crusted over with mold, but with a respirator mask and latex gloves, I did my best to pick away and separate the pages that are legible. My mom also saved my letters from my 8th grade boyfriend. I cried and cried reading them. They were so incredibly sweet and innocent. Best part of this story is that I spent almost all day Sunday with that particular ex and his older brother. I have to say that exs that are really more like childhood sweethearts are great people. We had such a good time together at the Jazz Fest.

I really need to get to sleep because I have work tomorrow. More on Jazz Fest, NOLA, reading one's old journals, eating oysters, drinking iced coffee and hanging out with my parents and close friends at a later time. I'm back in NYC for another 5 weeks before going to Paris. Let the countdown begin. Being in New Orleans reminded me how life is just too short. You can't let life, negativity, general obstacles, expectations, and the boredom of cynicism get you down.