not so spunky blog

Matt likes to write long scholarly blogs, and I prefer to write more random, short...let's say spunky blogs.

Mostly because my computer time is when I'm half asleep typing, forming words in my head and only hoping that I hit the right keys. Through half-slit eyes I try to spell check, but here's for hoping.

We made it to New Orleans in a fantastic feat of 15 1/2 driving hours. It shouldn't have taken that long, but we stopped to eat twice this time and we got stuck in Houston traffic. That was a nightmare, getting stuck about 10 miles outside the city in traffic that wasn't even city traffic, then getting into the city and coming to yet another standstill.

New Orleans is a city I've never been to before, like most of the places Matt and I have traveled so far. I'm stuck by the sense of community every where we turn. And we're face to face with fascinating history. Architecture. Culture. People. Lauren and Alan (sorry, Alan, if you spell your name someway different than this, but I'm too embarrassed to poke my head in the other room and ask you how you spell your name) are great hosts and it's been neat for me to get to meet people Matt mentions so frequently.

We're setting up our interviews, which has proved more challenging than we expected. Although we were in contact with people from Tulane before we got here, we had no replies and were not able to set anything up then. I'm a little frustrated, but I think it is because I'm still tired and trying to catch up on sleep from having driven and sat in the car for so long.

Alan took us around town today while Lauren was at work, and we got to see a house fire. Two hosues over 100 years old went up in smoke. We saw the smoke plumes and took our nosy selves to discover the cause. I felt insensitive as I stood watching the flames literally eat the houses, as ash poured down all around us, as we felt the water misting from the hoses. It was nerve-wracking for me to watch. I wondered about the families who belonged inside those walls. I wondered how much of their life was inside. How they would go on...would they want to? After all they had been through with Katrina...and now a fire. Once, as has happened many times on this trip, I felt an immense appreciation for the life that I have...and fear to realize how fragile it really is. We build an illusion of safety and control. It's a defense mechanism, an instinct for survival.

But it can all be taken away.

I hadn't meant to end on a sour note or a sad note, but I am.

I do like New Orleans though.