it's been a long while

The past couple weeks if nothing else, have assured me of a couple things. Coffee should be sipped slowly in the morning. You should cook your own food, and while the smells drift through the window, you should be outside, barefoot, and laughing with friends. Adventures should be unplanned. And musical instruments and conversation should replace televisions.

My trip to the South was pretty great. After spending the week before talking all business and future plans, it was nice to disappear for awhile. I only knew two people in Louisiana, and I felt like I could hide in the heat, away from talks of future. And that's exactly what I did. I tried not to make too much communication to people other that posting photos, and we whirled around the great state, taking photographs and talking in deep conversation.

We took a day trip to Mississippi too- with the sole purpose of getting lost. I took a walk by myself and while I was walking along the beach, I saw a sting ray in the water and sat and watched it for awhile. We found an abandoned ship and pier, full of spider webs in the corners and grass twice as tall as I am. We would turn down a highway, just to see what was there. We found an abandoned house lot, with just the tennis courts left. Further in the lot, there were steps to an old house, covered in vines and looking like something out of an old dusty book story. Everywhere we went that was abandoned, we all tiptoed around, giving the place and the people who used to be there, the utmost respect. We found a town where there were more antique stores than restaurants and an old abandoned snow cone stand.

I ate a lot of good seafood, and didn't worry about the calories that were stacking up. It was nice to just settle. And as soon as I started to learn my way around the town, I got anxious to pick up something different and be somewhere that I could get lost again, just to find my way. I visited people and places in NOLA that I had shot photographs of back in October, and I'm happy to say that things are progressing! On our last night in New Orleans, we stayed up late playing music in an empty room with vault ceilings. 3 guitars, 5 voices, barefeet and order-in Chinese food.

After the three weeks of travel I had just had, I was feeling anxious for home. The person two seats from me got sick on the airplane, and it was immediately time to get home, and quickly.

I returned home, reunited with the puppy dog, and slept for a long time, woke up and started school. It was mad chaos trying to get everything organized and ready to go, and to be honest, I haven't quite recovered yet. But while I was sitting in class on Monday morning after having 3 weeks of ridiculously good travel, I realized how uncomfortable I was in school.

I know a lot of people have strong opinions about taking time off school. More people, it seems, have a strong opinion about me not taking a break. It's interesting to see what people have told me I'm going to fail, and which ones say, "this is your life, and I trust you will do what's right for you."

So this is how I've been living for the past week. I know that this is the time to take time off, and trust me, I've thought about the consequences. What I need most from other people is to know that I have support and trust, that I'm making the right choices for my life based on my life experiences.

I have a good friend in town this weekend, and it's a funny thing... I didn't realize how much I really needed to be taken care of and listened to, until it occurred. There has been lots of late night talking about things that I've needed to voice for awhile. It's definitely nice to have someone around that has just sat and listened for hours while I talk my mind. We are moving in to our new house, tearing out carpet and tearing off wallpaper until our eyes only see the pattern that is printed. Finally, we are in the final stages of painting. We are in the home stretch now!!

I'm sorry I've been a terrible blogger, but much has been going on. I'll write again soon. I hope the wind is carrying you away to somewhere beautiful.

The coasts

There are sometimes in your life where it feels like you are experiencing something from the outside, looking in.

I was flying in a plane back to Colorado on Monday morning. It was an early flight, and I slept on the plane. I woke up and looked out the window, and I could see the Rocky Mountains poking their heads out of a blanket of milky-blue clouds. The plane turned, and the earth seemed to bend beneath me. It was a moment of pure beauty and realization that everything fell into place this trip. I grew a lot, a lot of little steps in all of the right directions.

This trip for me was a affirmation that there are very like-minded people to me everywhere. The man I met on the airplane and I talked about the ignorance of many Americans who travel, and the beauties of experiencing cultures separate from our own. The woman I met on the way to San Diego on the airplane worked in a home for the Untouchables in Calcutta, India. And then a friend and I stayed with 3 couchsurfing hosts in San Diego who made us laugh uncontrollably. We stayed up late listening to stories around a fire outside and then went to the beach at 1 in the morning. It was a wonderful experience, and it's very safe to say that we are going to continue our couchsurfing adventures. I thoroughly recommend this to people. (plus it's free.)

I was young when my dad once told me that he and my Uncle would try a lot of different things until they found something that they were above average at. If they found that they were just average, they would quit. They wanted something that made them extraordinary. I grew up with this mindset. I don't believe in quitting everything, but I believe that there are some things that set people apart from others, and I feel pretty lucky to be surrounded by these people. Throughout this trip there were people I met that screamed "above average."

I crave this feeling of living a transient lifestyle when I'm away from it. The idea of not really belonging to anywhere or anyone, just living a life outside of anywhere in particular. I love drifting, moving, changing, anything that progresses and propels my life forward. I cried some happy tears on the way back to Wyoming that morning after I got off the plane. It was because it's hard to believe that this type of fulfilling happiness exists somewhere. It was even harder to believe that I get to experience it on a consistent basis through my travels and adventures.

I feel lucky.

I feel like I need to keep my life moving.

So, let's go to New Orleans.

to move

There are two incidents that I have experienced in the past week that I want to talk about. First of all, when I was stressing out this morning about my guest teaching at an Elementary School, I went for coffee. I spend every Friday and Sunday morning in this coffee shop and order the same thing. What I love about Fridays is that there is hardly anyone here. People come and go but it's quiet and I can do work without seeing a bunch of people I know. Today, in the midst of my coffee order, the barista told me that someone bought a gift card for someone who came in to the coffee shop today. I ended up only paying for my bagel because someone had purchased a coffee for someone had wanted to make a stranger's day. My day was made, and it reminded me to pay it forward. So I'm going to try to do a couple nice things for people today.

The second 'pay it forward' example I saw was yesterday afternoon. I was in a computer lab on campus when a woman came in with a small baby. She sat down at the computer and was obviously trying to get work done but her babe was pretty restless. It was an obvious struggle, and a girl sitting behind me went over and asked her if she could hold her daughter so she could get some work done. The mother had a relieved look on her face and was able to be productive for a couple minutes. Generosity and little sacrifices like this make me extremely happy and have a lot of faith in the world around me. Just thought I would share.

The next thing I want to talk about is creativity and inspiration. The funny thing about inspiration is that it moves me so much that I get frustrated. It's something that I have been forced to balance: the need to move and travel for creativity, and the need to have something stable. It's not that I'm unhappy when I feel this, I just know when I'm in one place too long, I feel like my life is just sitting and my heart gets dusty. I see a lot of my friend circle getting to travel and experience the rest of the world and a part of my heart starts out of envy. I understand that there is a reason why I'm supposed to be here, now. But that doesn't stop the ongoing cycle of the desire to move. I have to wonder if I'll ever find a balance among this; if the need to constantly be moving will subside. I believe it's also a bit selfish, you know. That it is always my desire to move. And what will make me happy. I live a very solo lifestyle. A lot of people don't understand it. And a lot of people can't keep up with it. I don't blame them, it's chaotic sometimes and you learn to adapt quickly. But I will never sit in an office at a 9-5 job and I will never feel comfortable in a cubicle. I feel like when my soul is happy and fulfilled, I can be a more productive person to the world. When I'm shooting photos, it's the happiest and most fulfilling thing I can be doing with my time. And who can deny you of that?

Trip Report: NOLA (Part 2)

After city park, we realized how hungry we were, so we made our way over to a poboy restaurant by a cemetery. I've never had a poboy sandwich in my life, but let me just tell you. I am a big, big fan. As I was ordering, the woman behind the counter, May, started asking me about why I was in the city. As I explained the project to her, she told me that her and her husband, Yang, would be happy to talk to me about the hurricane. I ate while Yang talked to me about their experience about the storm. Her husband explained to me that they decided to stay in their restaurant for the period of the storm. As soon as the hurricane was over, they emerged from their shop, and everything was destroyed. He said it was the scariest thing he has ever experienced in his life, and I witnessed the deepness of the terror in his eyes while he said this. They thought they were the only living beings, and their moving around was the only sound that they heard. No birds, no cars, no wind. Just quiet.

I listened, thanked them and then asked to take their photograph. (Yang and May- owners of Yang's Poboy) As we were getting up to leave, two men sitting at a table behind me mentioned that they overheard my project. They introduced themselves both as Mike and that they were both contractors for houses, doing storm repair. I boldly asked if I could see a before and an after house, and they said they would show me as much as they could. We excitedly jumped in the car and drove to the "After" house.

The same hardwood floors that were in there before, but they redid everything else. It was a beautiful house. After taking a short tour, we were on to the "Before" house. When we arrived there, Mike handed me a flashlight. "Breathe into your shirt, or don't breathe deep. Don't touch anything. Remember, someone used to call this a home." The pool outside was covered up to ground level with grass and Mike told us that there was hurricane debris inside of it. I asked if there could be a body buried in this debris. He slowly nodded and I felt sick to my stomach. As we entered the house, most of the bottom floor had been stripped of its walls. A lone faucet and shower head stood in the midst of everything. Seaweed was hanging from the ceiling above the door, and the whole house was hot and reeked of mold. He took us upstairs and before we entered the old tenant's bedroom, he explained to us that things were virtually untouched since the storm.

Once we walked in the bedroom door, my breath was gone. The guy's deodorant, comb, hairdryer, cigarettes and ash tray, and clothes were exactly where he had left them. Mike explained to us that this man that had lived here gathered up 3 bags of clothes and tried to leave. And didn't make it back. I found negatives on the floor, and tears welled in my eyes as I held them up and a perfect image of a girl smiling was displayed in front of me. I had no idea whoo this was, but she was obviously important to him. We left the house and I couldn't believe what I had just seen. The storm just became very very real to me, and there were ghosts of Katrina everywhere I went.

Katherine and I made our way to the lake, and as we were walking along the steps of the edges, it started to rain. Driving back into the city, I noticed grates in the highway to drain water quickly. It wasn't raining hard, but there was a ton of water.

We went home that night and I was feeling the weight of this storm. There was so much left untouched, and it was a lot to handle. That night, we met up with a friend of a friend, Katie, at Cafe du Monde, which I am now obsessed with. We shared Cafe Au Laite's and beignets while we talked about the day.

Before I left, with a huge help from some friends from National Geographic, I had gotten in touch with the photographer, Tyrone Turner (www.tyronefoto.com) who shot the Hurricane story for the magazine. He had given me the name of a guy, Robert Green, who he thought might be able to help me understand the rebuilding process. I called Robert, and he said that he would meet us that afternoon and show us around the neighborhood of the Lower 9th Ward, a place that due to a break in the barge, flooded more than much of the city.

We decided to drive around the lower 9th ward area, and we visited the only park that is currently up, which was completely controlled by solar power (it was awesome). We played in the park for about 30 minutes and then went to lunch. After lunch, we were driving back into the city when I saw an old abandoned church. I asked to pull over, and we went exploring inside. The carpet had been ripped out, but the pews had served as an obvious bed for those who needed it some nights. Stain class shadows left colorful squares on the floors and a huge mural of Jesus with his arms around New Orleans was painted at the very front. We walked around in the church, and then looked around at an abandoned Christian Academy right next to it. It was hauntingly beautiful, as chandeliers still hung from the ceiling, above the black mold and broken glass covering the floors.

Driving around the lower 9th ward in the morning, in the car was Katie, myself, Katherine and her roommate Melanie (Thank you Melanie, a hundred times over, for the use of your car.) As we were driving around the neighborhood, we found houses without walls, but with light switches still attached, railroad tracks that led to nowhere, puddles of water that perfectly reflected houses and then we found Helen. As we drove our car past, a very cute old woman waved at us from her porch. I thought how photogenic her wrinkles were and how much I wanted to talk to her. We pulled over and started talking to her. Helen was 90 years old and full of sass. She was definitely one of a kind, and embodied old New Orleans culture. Sweet smells drifted from her kitchen and she talked about how all of her neighbors were going to wonder why she was talking to "all these white girls." It wasn't said as a racist comment, but more so of an observation. She told us about her experience with the storm, and agreed to let me take her photo. When I gave her my information and told her that she could find me on the internet, she asked if the internet was something on the television.

We then visited Robert Green. He was probably the most inspiring person I've met on this trip by far. He invited us in to his Make It Right home in the Lower 9th ward and the rest of the girls played with his grandson, Everett, while I talked to him. Robert lived in a FEMA trailer for 3 years before his house was built by Brad Pitt's organization (www.makeitrightnola.org). Robert told us his story as he walked around the neighborhood. When the storm hit, his mother, who he lived with, was very sick. They tried to leave in their car for Baton Rouge, but sat in traffic for 7 hours before deciding to turn back. After turning back, they tried to go to the Superdome but got turned away due to lack of space. They went back to their house, and had to break their attic ceiling onto their roof because their house was flooding. The water picked up their roof and carried it 200 yards down the road to a tree. The roof hit the tree, and when it broke, Robert lost both his mother and his 3 year old granddaughter. Tears filled both his and our eyes as he recounted this story, and he walked us to the tree. I asked him, "how has this storm made you a better person?" And he told me, "It's no use hoping for my granddaughter or mother back. Hoping that will do nothing for me. I can appreciate all the moments I had with them, but I now appreciate every moment I have with my grandson and my family." I have to sincerely thank both Robert and Tyrone for helping make this trip successful. Robert explained a picture he had of the barge breaking into the lower 9th, which caused the neighborhood to flood. If the government had moved the barge, like they were supposed to, it would have prevented much of the flooding, and might have saved hundreds of people's lives.

We left Robert's house fulfilled. I parted ways with Katherine and Melanie and Katie and I went to dinner in the French Quarter, where my hotel was. Despite my dislike of shrimp, I accidently ordered a bowl of barbeque shrimp for dinner. Since it was my last night in NOLA, and neither one of us had ever had our fortune's told, we decided to go do that in Jackson square. We sat down with Madame Teresa who had Mardi Gras beads on the table and fake candles on her table, sitting in a lawn chair. I had told Katie beforehand (since I'm a little afraid of flying) that I have always been scared to get my fortune told because I never wanted a death card, and especially because I was flying the next day, if I got a card that predicted my death, I was going to flip. As Madame Teresa told us to draw cards, the first card I turned over was a guy, laying on the ground with seven swords stuck in his back. As I verbally started panicking, Katie laughed uncontrollably and Madame Teresa told me that it wasn't a death card, but that I need to "watch for backstabbers." We left the table and giggled all the way back home.

NOLA, overall was an incredible trip for me. Everyone that I met, shared experiences with, let me photograph them, etc, made the trip both beautiful and haunting. I have shared all these photos with you in order to show you an accurate depiction of my trip, so please refrain from downloading them. Thank you for reading my story. Half of the proceeds from the photos I sold in the gallery here, went to the Make It Right Foundation, and the same will be true with any of the Ghosts of Katrina photos bought off of my website. We can continue to rebuild this city. I owe a huge, HUGE thank you to these people:

University of Wyoming (specifically Michael L. and Sarah B.)

Gallery 234

Katheryn

Melanie M.

Katie B.

Jennifer O. and family

Cary B.

Mike D.

Helen O.

Chris M.

Connor N.

Nori N.

Robert Green

Tyrone Turner

Rebecca Martin

Sadie Quarrier

Pete Hill
and finally, Lowepro Camera Bags.

I sincerely appreciate all of your help and support through this project. I can't wait to return to New Orleans. My question, "Why would you return?" was answered at the end of this project. The food, the people, the culture, the music. It is all unique and beautiful. New Orleans is unlike anywhere else in the world. And it's just the feeling you get when you go there that keeps you wanting to come back.