"I think anything below setting up our own water treatment plant would be purely symbolic"

-Eugene, on New Orleans Municipal Water

here.

It's been 11 days now since I arrived at Common Ground. Since that day, there have been several moments when I realized that I'd made the right decision by coming here - when we finished installing a whole house with hardwood floor, when I took my first bite of some Spicy Shrimp Gumbo - but for some reason none were as powerful as last night's, hunched over a shuffleboard table.
I'm sure it had something to do with the Jameson shots or the pints of Sierra Nevada (once again I escaped the tyranny of the legal drinking age) but all of a sudden I was struck with the realization that where I was was perfect. Earlier in the night, for whatever reason, the TV behind the bar had been tuned to Sex in the City and somebody asked, "What do you think is the difference between us and them?". It seemed a strange question at the time and maybe intended more as a joke than a serious curiosity, it being pretty obvious the difference between those well-styled middle-aged women and our ragtag group of drunken twenty-somethings, but I felt compelled to answer the question anyways,

"The difference between us and them is that those women are empty. They're nothing. They're sitting together in some fancy bar drinking martinis, brought together by the cause of showing off their tits and trying to get in bed with whichever men they can. They are the image of useless, shallow american ideals, their lives are about nothing. Now look around this room right now, look at the people who drove here in our bus. Every one of us is here, at least partially, because we felt a need to make change, we felt a need to do something progressive and powerful. We are brought together by the desire to do good. Even if we've all just met, there's a connection between us held strong by common ideals, we share a common ground, if you will."

As I lined up my shot, one eye closed, the other focused on the far end of the sand-covered table, the recent memory of that conversation rang in my head and all at once the scene focused into perfection. Life is perfect. This place is perfect. These people are perfect. There was nothing extraordinary about the moment, just a bunch of guys playing shuffleboard in a New Orleans dive bar, and yet in that minute it all seemed to make sense. I knew why I had come, why it was worth leaving behind everything I had at home, and that only made me more thirsty for everything else that is yet to come.

my first post in this blog (post-departure) is going to have to be short because I just poured myself a mugful of Vodka and I have to walk down the street for my Chess appointment.

in short; work is hard but rewarding, the food is amazing, but not vegetarian friendly and in general life is good but I still miss Rachael.

don't get me wrong, this place is amazing.

vodka time.

just going through the motions

"The thing is, you can do anything but you cant do everything. You won't be missing out on the things happening here any more than you would be missing out on the things in New Orleans if you stayed; no matter where you are you're missing out on every other experience except the one you're in. Think about it, if you were still in Australia you wouldn't be able to kiss on Rachael. So just enjoy wherever you are whenever you're there and then move on to the next place you want to go."

"One or more airlines on your itinerary will charge a fee for checked baggage"

and that's what happens when you buy the absolute cheapest tickets.


I woke up this morning and didn't want to go to New Orleans. This isn't the first time I've felt this feeling - my breath tight in my chest as my mind races around in panic, an anxious clinging to my pillow, heart beating painfully fast as I struggle try to find a way out - it came to me the morning before Mexico, the day I arrived in Santa Cruz, not even a full day into Australia. I roll around for a few minutes halfway between sleep and wake, distress and security, until I make the decision towards the latter and swing my feet onto the carpet.