accentuate the positives (of new orleans).

"How was New Orleans?!," I was asked by friends and coworkers last month after returning from a long weekend at Jazz Fest.  

Normally such innocous pleasantries don't cause me anxiety (which is, in and of itself, remarkable because I'm anxious about nearly everything), yet unsure of how to honestly answer this question without immediately making things awkward, I dreaded people asking me about it.

First of all, do people really want to know about my vacation (or anyone's vacation, for that matter?), or are they are just being nice?  Secondly, if someone was sincerely interested, I imagine a simple, "It was great!" or "We had a blast!" is probably all they're looking for - spare the details and keep it positive.   

Yet, I found myself conflicted and unable to hide how the trip really was for me, because while there were definitely some musical and culinary highlights, as well as some good laughs shared with friends, the best words I can use to describe my trip to New Orleans are "complicated" and "off." 

Jacob and I were off, the music was off, I felt . . . just off.   And for everything to feel "off" in a town that is always "on," meant a lot of my super high expectations for the trip fell short.

Cue the Debbie Downer honk. Womp. Womp.

I suppose I could've just omitted blogging or talking about New Orleans altogether - I mean who wants to read about a bad vacation?

I had to chuckle, though, when I looked at the more than 200 photographs I took while I was there - you certainly wouldn't know that anything was off.  Any evidence of the the not-so-great moments wasn't captured at all.  Instead, smiling faces and beautiful scenery - lots of proof that there were plenty of good times. 

But I'm no bullshitter - so I felt the need to provide you with proper context.  These pictures tell the story of a trip that didn't exactly live up to my expectations, but it wasn't all bad.  Consider this me "accentuating the positives" of the trip, which included -

The kindness of strangers -

I was so fortunate to have the opportunity to interview Vance Vaucresson for a piece I wrote for CNN.  If there was such a thing as Mayor of Jazz Fest, Vance would win, hands down.  In the few hours we spent together, our conversation was interrupted repeatedly by festival goers coming to his booth to say hello.  He had so many stories about his life in New Orleans pre-and post-Katrina, I swear I had enough material to write five stories about him.

The first day of Jazz Fest, we befriended a group of people from Atlanta who invited us to set up our chairs next to them.  We all became fast friends and Jacob and I agreed that with all the negativity in the world, there's nothing quite like a music festival to restore your faith in humanity.  I realize how hippie and flaky that probably sounds, but in all seriousness, people at Jazz Fest are just really nice and friendly.

The food (and drinks, duh) -

The first time I went to Jazz Fest in 2005, I was completely and pleasantly surprised at the super important role of food at the festival.  As in, it's as important as the music.  Most of the vendors have been serving gourmet New Orleans-style cuisine for decades.  No cotton candy and corn dogs at this festival - we're talking Shrimp and Grits, Crawfish Monica and so. many. Po boys.  We kept ourselves well fed, both at the fair grounds and everywhere else (Thank you, Cochon, Herbsaint and Atchafalaya.)

The music - 

Music highlights for me included Jason Isbell and Jon Cleary performing "Stagger Lee" at a small club on Frenchman Street.   Galactic and Phish put on good performances, but honestly with so many wonderful musicians in the same city, I'd hoped for more surprise guests and collaboration.  Still, though, Jazz Fest is like pizza and even when it's bad, it's still pretty good. 

 

The city - 

New Orleans is so rich in culture and history and once you get away from the French Quarter, the city is so beautiful.  The days we had to just wander around the city were my favorite.  

Social media, for better or for worse, is a lot of smoke in mirrors.  We put the most positive versions of ourselves out for the world to see.

Sure, I've been annoyed at what I consider a tendency of some to over.share.every.minute.detail.of.everyday with the world and others who disguise the tremendous dysfunction in their lives with glossy, smiley pictures of everything looking great.  But thankfully I learned long ago not to compare my insides to someone else's outsides. 

I think that most of us treat Facebook and Twitter like wearing makeup - we're really looking really just looking for an opportunity to accentuate the positives in our lives, not mislead anyone into thinking everything is perfect.


I took fun pictures of New Orleans, but the trip wasn't without its challenges. 

Thanks to a faulty zipper on my luggage, when I arrived back in Atlanta, I found several pieces of my clothes cruising solo on the carousel and my suitcase looked like this:

Looking and feeling like we had been to a war, Jacob and I looked at each other and then we looked at the suitcase, and then we burst out laughing. 

Now that's accentuating the positive.

truth and books.

I am in a full-on writer's funk.  See also: unmotivated; uninspired; lazy; boring.

While extremely frustrating to not feel capable of putting together a coherent thought worthy of your attention, not writing means that I'm finally getting around to reading books that I've had on my list for a while; ones that my book club, which I'm dangerously close to getting thrown out of, discussed months ago.

I guess for an aspiring writer, there are worse activities than reading with which I could occupy my time.  Getting lost in a good book expands my vocabulary and my imagination, and it's definitely better than rotting my brain on reality television.



I'd hoped reading might be motivating and helpful in shaking my springtime writer's fog, and in some ways it has.  But the books I've been reading lately have been so wonderfully layered and completely captivating, I've also felt inferior and therefore less inspired, less motivated than before.

I mean, how could I ever weave together the true achievements of a historical character (from Charleston, SC!) within an enchanting work of fiction, the way Sue Monk Kidd does in The Invention of Wings? And Jordan Belfort's account of his over-the-top life in the Wolf of Wall Street is far more interesting than anything I've ever done or will likely ever do, so why bother?

What could I possibly write that hasn't already been written?

I finished Me Before You on Sunday afternoon after just a day of reading.  As I was wiping the ugly tears off my swollen face from the novel's heart-wrenchingly beautiful ending, I checked Instagram.  A blogger/photographer I follow had posted a picture of her young daughter, along with a quote by C.S. Lewis:

"Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it."

I have read it a dozen times since then, and thought about it even more.  Though I suspect my struggles with motivation and doubt happen to everyone at some point in their creative process, I felt as though the writing Gods were speaking right to me with that quote.    

Feeling inspired, I immediately started three blogs that I'd been thinking about, but proving that even C.S. Lewis can't cure all that ails me, I quickly got discouraged and gave up.  I picked up and read, The Fault in Our Stars instead.  I finished it yesterday, again with ugly tears and a swollen face. 

(Side bar: whatever you do, do not Me Before You and The Fault in Our Stars consecutively.  Bad idea.)  

  
Another book down and now a blog post?  Maybe C.S. Lewis is making an impact after all.  I can't promise you'll read any award-winning, life-changing prose over here, and I can't be sure that what I think or write will be terribly original, but thanks to my mom, I definitely know how to tell the truth.

And that's what really matters, right?

Plus, she thinks I'm funny, and she reads constantly, so I know she knows what she's talking about.

Next on my reading list is Brain on Fire, a memoir of a journalist who went mad - which sounds frightening and a lot like my real life - maybe my book club picked it in hopes I will return?

It's good to be back, telling my truth.  

spring.

Spring finally arrived in a big way at my house.

Every time I get home, I want to skip to the front door with happiness, like I'm in the Wizard of Oz.

I Instagrammed this picture last week with the caption, "My yard is better than your yard," but don't let me mislead you, I had nothing to do with any of it.  My landlords work tirelessly to make it look like this and I'm so grateful.   

Unfortunately, as of last night, spring has left us again, going as quickly as it came.  I'm back wearing a wool coat and tights, while getting pushed down the street by howling winds.

At least my yard is still looking the part. 

My curmudgeon landlord said he was tired of passersby taking pictures of his yard.  I'm not sure why this offends him, nor am I sure why he would make his yard look this way if he didn't want people to admire it.

I chose not to tell him that I used the beautiful flowers as an excuse to get my camera out and practice my skills.

Cheers to Spring - let's hope it returns soon!