That Choking Feeling

I experience life two ways lately and I’m not sure which of the two is sane.

The first way, I look at everything through a veneer of cold logic. The spurts of elation I occasionally feel seem childish to me, like cartoons that you notice aren’t real once you grow up. For example: I don’t let myself feel like a badass when I listen to Lil Wayne on the subway because I know I'm a girl in a dress dragging along a laptop case.

The second way, I let Lil Wayne convince me that I’m taking over the world -- that, in fact, I’m already in the process. This is the way I felt when I stepped off the plane in New Orleans last summer and something glorious gripped my throat.

... and also why I got choked up by Dan Baum from The New Yorker:

A long time ago, David Freedman, the general manager of the listener-supported radio station WWOZ, described New Orleans to me as a kind of resistance-army headquarters. “Everyplace else in America, Clear Channel has commodified our music, McDonald’s has commodified our food, and Disney has commodified our fantasies,” he said. “None of that has taken hold in New Orleans.”

NYC and New Orleans represent my two mindsets. Insane or not, I think it’s time that I let the latter go for my jugular.

Keeping Me Honest

I remember studying the 4 stages of culture shock in college sociology class. They are (according to this site):

1. The Honeymoon Stage


Everything about the new culture will delight and stimulate the new arrival. The language will be studied with enthusiasm and great progress will be made. Memories of home are still close to mind and this has a protective value on the individual.

2. The Disintegration Stage

This stage can arrive without warning and can be triggered by a small incident or without any cause. Cultural differences will no longer be celebrated but be viewed as a source of conflict. A person may feel confused, isolated and depressed whilst missing familiar supports.

3. The Reintegration Stage

At this stage a person may begin to compare the new culture unfavourably with home. He/she begins to reject the differences encountered. Feelings of anger, frustration and hostility to the new culture begin to surface. Comfort food from the person’s home country may be sought and consumed with delight. This is quite a healthy reaction. The person is reconnecting with what he/she valued about themselves and their own culture.

4. The Acceptance Stage

A kind of equilibrium is attained in this stage where the person learns to accept both difference and similarity. The individual becomes more relaxed and confident as he/she becomes more familiar with situations and is able to cope well. Most experiences become enjoyable and one is able to make choices according to their own values and preferences.

Here's my own pre-moving cycle:

1. The Elation, Champagne Toasting Stage
2. The "Oh this is actually real" Stage
3. The "Maybe New York isn't so bad and I'm making a huge mistake" Stage
4. The "I'm a Nutbag" Stage
5. TBA...

I've recently passed through Stage number 3 and am entering Stage number 4. It's amazing what we get attached to without even knowing it. The prospect of moving made me admit to myself what I really value.

Boxing turned out to be as important to me as I thought it was, Burlesque maybe more than I thought, my friends-- about what I thought, and a new discovery: I might gravitate more toward responsible choices than I thought.

The "I Must Be Nuts" stage involves a lot of self reproach for being so silly. But the fact that my good friend Keren (who is moving to Israel) is still in Stage 3 helps me not to feel like a lonely nut job.

My prediction for Stage 5: Holy Shit, I Still Don't Have an Apartment!

A Street Map Named Desire

This map is the result of speaking with many people in New Orleans about where I should live.

IMPORTANT: The quotes are not my own, nor do they reflect my sentiments/opinions. They are merely a sampling of what I've heard from people in the last two days, which I find interesting, unsettling, and humorous.

KEY:

Red- not safe for me.
Yellow- relatively safe.
Red Dots- areas I'm considering living in.

The dilemma this map brings up: Whether to live in the Marigny (Google just taught me how to spell that) or Magazine Street. The former is more charming and has better "atmosphere." The latter is a bit safer and closer to two very important things to me: boxing gyms and food stores.

FEAR: The idea that the only thing heating my apartment in the winter will be an open-flame heater that spews carbon monoxide and might set my place on fire.

LOOKING FORWARD TO: Paying a $60-per-month gym membership. Observing a Gospel yoga class.

What I Might Miss

This is Bruce Silverglade, owner of Gleason's Gym in Brooklyn. This photo says so much about boxing and a little about New York.

Rising Sun, Here I Come ... In Two Months

A week ago I got the email at work. In it, my boss stated simply "I decided to give it a try."

... meaning that something I've talked people's ears off about for four years is actually happening. I held on to my ergonomic office chair and fanned myself like a girl who just won her local beauty pageant.

Maybe, being in the New York Times office, it was because I didn't have the immediate opportunity to jump around and scream, or maybe longstanding dreams finally becoming reality take a while to sink in, but I didn't experience the full effect from what this email implied until last night.

I had gone over my ex-editor/boss's house for a delicious diner and we talked about doing interesting things, and New Orleans (her sister lives there).

She didn't look at me funny when I said I love damp heat and helped me revel in my memories of soggy blues bars and New Orleans grit from last summer.

In the taxi on the way home, I actually smiled at the cab driver and didn't roll my eyes when he accelerated over a pothole. Through my Pinot Grigio buzz, I realized where I'm going and I like it.