No Context Needed

Two years ago, on Memorial Day, we moved down to New Orleans.  Yesterday, I moved back.

I'd never made the 8-hour drive by myself.  It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be.  I played my music as loud as I wanted.  Once the sun set, I rode with the windows down, the sticky air forming a layer of moisture on my skin.  I can't remember if the layer ever truly goes away in this town.  I'm not sure if I want it to.

Ryan has generously opened his tiny apartment to me.  The couch sleeps well enough, & I'm already making  friends with Duder, his cat.  The place is a bit cramped, but who cares?  The window units keep it chilly even during the heat of the day, but I won't be hanging out at home all the time.  Why would I?  I'm here.

As soon as I arrived in town, we headed to One Eyed Jack's in the Quarter to see YACHT.  I'd nearly forgotten the power that a killer band in a small venue can bring, & YACHT didn't disappoint.  Claire danced in the crowd multiple times, even making it far enough back to place her thumb on my forehead.  I felt sparks, like I'd been anointed by the indie-dance-punk Gods, like the city was welcoming me home.  My first summer in Athens, I saw Beck at the Georgia Theater.  During a break between songs, he placed his hand on my head in a similar laying on of hands that I experienced at church growing up.  That moment with Beck has always stayed with me, as will last night.  Good omens.

I've never struck out on my own like this before.  Hell, I've never truly lived for myself before.  It's all new & weird &, frankly, a little terrifying.  But it's also terribly exciting.  I've felt like I've lost touch with a lot of myself, with what makes me happy.  I will no longer let myself go through life for others' sake.  It is time to truly start experiencing all I have to offer.