Dude, Where's My City

Most average Februarys find me in a slump somewhere between Christmastime and spring, at which point I can either wear sandals or snowboard boots with summer just on the cusp. This February I find myself in Chicago, the first real freeze settling in this weekend around 15 degrees for a high.

The past few months, I’ve been traveling, back to New Orleans in October, Denver for the holidays, Florida last weekend to visit my girlfriend’s mom, and next weekend for Mardi Gras. I guess I mention all of this, because I’ve come to grips with life as a regular drifter, since being displaced from New Orleans. Several friends have returned, including my sister, who all live in that now increasingly eccentric place. I’ve tried to “setup shop” here in Chicago, a town I’ve come to love since I was 5, landed another fulltime job today as a designer for a non-profit company, but I still can’t help but wonder how long I’ll last here. I suppose I’ll push for the full year or two, because I don’t see anywhere else I SHOULD be.

… And that’s my problem, I guess. I only live in cities now and hold jobs I SHOULD have. I took a job I SHOULD have taken, I signed a lease on a nice place far from any hurricane zone, I’ll keep this job and live here because I SHOULD. And that’s the difference between now and my days before August 28, 2005 when I left the place I CHOSE and WANTED to be. I’m not complaining – if anything, I have it luckier than most Katrina Kids. FEMA provided plenty of support to me personally and I’ve landed 2 jobs since I’ve been here. But I knew I could do this, bring in the benjamins in any huge place like Chicago, NYC, or LA, before I even graduated from school in the dirty dirty.

The difference now is that I can’t personally find a solid reason as to why I SHOULD return to New Orleans … Sure, there’s that ceaseless request to help rebuild and I am on a daily basis checking job postings, but ultimately I don’t feel as though I can contribute like I had before the Storm. I played music in venues now destroyed, I had art in galleries that are now shut down, I did community service around southern Louisiana, and I worked for an ad agency that survived, but its clients have close to no need for promotion.

And I know there are hundreds of elitists still in that city cursing people like me for not giving the place an immediate chance, but those people don’t realize I need to feed myself, pay my bills, and hopefully one day have my own business and family. Kudos to my sister who just graduated and CAN just waitress while her boyfriend goes to grad school as an environmental engineer.

I am not saying I’ve abandoned New Orleans. All I am saying is that I doubt anybody except those who have been displaced truly understand the gray feeling of being a nomad of sorts, no matter how solid their situation may be, be it in LA, Chicago, New York, Dallas, Denver, or a FEMA trailer in their front lawn of Lakeview.

Finally, I just hope nobody reading this feels any pity for me; I am simply explaining myself and why I may drift from place to place and never quite seem content. It is not “the grass is greener syndrome.” I found the greenest grass in 1999, lost it August 29, 2005, and hope it one day returns so I may too.