Back in my Beloved NOLA, staying in Travis’ room; housemate: Jared. As the bus rolled from Baton Rouge to New Orleans late yesterday, thunder, lightning and rain accompanied us (heavier rain than anything for a long time, Jared said). I seem to accompany or “bring” rain. Of course, NOLA being NOLA, lightning and thunder were added. Divine!
The house I am staying in is very nice. My housemate, Jared, is from here (Metarie, the suburb next to NOLA). He is very aware of and part of the culture. I am thrilled! I want to learn all about New Orleans culture. It’s like being in my (birth-) Daddy, Brown’s arms. (No disrespect to my adoptive Dad, Karl.)
Homer will be MY OWN place. So odd that in Homer I know a young guy who actually says things like “women should be kept barefoot and pregnant” and “he looks like Jesus.” These things are so far from my own, radical-left point of view as to be almost unbelievable. Archaic. Like something from a hundred or more years ago. This young man is a strange one. If I were any less radical, he would be offensive to me; as it is, I can only laugh inwardly (never in his face) when he says these things. They amuse me greatly.
I have made my first connection with a feline creature: Jared’s cat, whom I will call “Kimmy.” (Her name is something like this.)
I never wanted to be in the competition in our society. I was a really fast runner as a kid (and teenager), but I hated competing. Couldn’t do it.
Oh, I love the people and the accent here in New Orleans.
I get lots of positive feedback in Louisiana: “I love people like you,” said the food service guy at the Greyhound restaurant in Shreveport. While waiting in line for my chicken, I was dancing to the music on my iPod. “You’re very patient,” the guy said. “I love your hair,” someone said to me here in NOLA a few years ago.
Ian, in the autobiographical paragraph at the beginning of his book, writes: I never expected to find mutual love. Like me. So he–and I–married the first person who was willing to marry him… after a cost analysis (he writes)! Ha ha.
Arkansas: full of churches. Ugh!
Aspies: = logic. NTs = social sense. Logic = independence and sensitivity. Logic leads to what’s natural.
My parental unit (adopted) = enforced assimilation. Yet we were in hiding in many ways. Dad did stay very loyal to Germany and German ways. Submission is part of being in hiding; it is also by definition part of assimilation.
Musically, I am learning rhythms. I have (somehow… and unintentionally [without trying]) entered a whole new phase of musical awareness. It’s as if I am hearing music in a whole new and much deeper way. I love it!
My musicality = logic plus sensitivity (no social sense here).
I have been travelling for 1 and 1/2 years, but really it has been for about five years. And I have really NEVER settled down. I am ready.
I am just getting a peek into the difference between the travelling life and sedentary life. My illnesses (which usually last just for a day) upon returning to settled life inform me of the vastness of this difference… at least in my own mind.
When I am in the travelling life, my perspective is never “here,” never where I am. It is always moving, shifting, changing, preparing to move on, looking into the future. Like in the song, The Girl With Faraway Eyes. It’s a fluid, light, airy, changing perspective. It’s as if I were thinking: “This is not real; what is real is change.”
Sedentary life is right here, right now, everything around me that I can sense, feel, see, taste, touch, hear, smell, etc. It’s immediate and present. It’s stopped. It’s a BE HERE NOW perspective.
As I say, my awareness of these very different perspectives is incomplete and new. I was settled for all of my early life (with the exception of my first six months before being adopted). We travelled, but we did not move. In the US, my adoptive family was part of an excluded, ostracized part of the culture by virtue of being immigrants–i.e., Dad (Mom was first-generation German-American)–from a hated culture (Germany).
Since going away to college at University of Maine in 1964, I have been moving at least every few years (and travelling in between (eg. coast to coast by car during the summer when I was married and living in California). When I got divorced, I really started moving and travelling. During the past five to seven years, I have been travelling (domestically and internationally) almost constantly and have never had a fixed address except for the winter of 2011-2012 in Nederland and for brief (2-4 months) periods of camping in Ojai. I have maintained fixed addresses (mainly in California and Colorado).
That’s enough moving and travelling. I feel that I have fulfilled my goals in that area. I am very satisfied with my personal accomplishments and with the places I have gone, people I have met, and things I have learned during my travels.
Mantra: I love myself.
Motto: don’t get lazy.
The heat and humidity feel SO GOOD. And the streetcar only costs $.40.
Allergic to Kimmy the kitty at my house. Heal-all that clears my lungs: Louisiana hot sauce. Nothin’ like it in the world!
My canvas is my body. I am like Kali = I destroy and re-create, on my face, on my body, in my life.
I am not competing for rank or for men. And I’m not in a hurry.
People tend to seek consistency in their beliefs and perceptions. So what happens when one of our beliefs conflicts with another previously held belief? The term cognitive dissonance is used to describe the feeling of discomfort that results from holding two conflicting beliefs. When there is a discrepancy between beliefs and behaviors, something must change in order to eliminate or reduce the dissonance. (Wikipedia)