Diamond in the Rough

Late Boyfriend was born and raised in New Orleans (N'awlins), and, true to his city, he weathered Katrina in a hotel, with looters down the hall. I broke up with Late Boyfriend about a month before the hurricane, for reasons to be discussed later, but it's things like this that make me wonder why I ever left him. This is from his IM profile:

I got back from a house today, a house that had been totally flooded past the ceiling. The walls and ceilings had discintegrated and the isulation from teh attic laid sopping over the floor which could not be seen. I've seen flood lines on things all over the city. I"ve seen trees fallen on streets and houses. I was here when the storm raged through my town, and i watched the water rise. I waded in waste deep waterjust to see my house the day after the storm. I head tell of people in lakeview whose houses were safe util the levee broke and cuase the water to rise to the ceiling in under an hour forcing them to take refuge in attics and rooftops. I've heard stories of mnay old people dying, not from the storn itself, but from what i can only suspect to be hte effect on them of the storm experience. Iv'e seen plants dead all around and boats in the middle of the street. I"ve heard horrible stories of victims of katrina turning into criminals and horrible guests to wonderful people. However. I"ve been to Houston where the hospitality and generocity was immesurable. I've been back to the city to salvage pictures and whatever else of real value can saved. I've seen new spots of green grass shoot up amongst the brown. I"ve wathced p eople's faces light up as they find one picture out of a hundred that miraculoulsly made it through the water. I've eaten free meals provided by the red cross, and gotten free water from FEMA. I see all the work that is being done to clean and rebuild this city. I know what it is to walk into a house and have on'e sinuses burn from the mold. I've seen the destruction, and i've seen evidence of all the wonderful things that are going to come of this storm. I will not forwake my city. I will not forget the devestation. I will not forget hte kindess taht i was shown. I am a survivor and I intend to thrive.

That's my boy. That's the boy I know. The boy who loves his city. The boy who makes me cry. Amid all the rough spots, amid all the misspellings, there is my gem. He is indeed a survivor, and I know he'll make it through.
But the question is, will I?

FairMaids in their natural habitat.
So, having troulbe with the picture thing! How does one get a picture into the 'view profilfe' box thingy? When I try, it keeps telling me my picture is too big. How do I make it smaller!?!?! ;-)

Which one is me? ;-)

Hmmm

Wow, so, spur of the moment, I have a blog. I'm not even sure why I have one, or what I want to do with it. But now I have one. ;-) I'm rather intimidated by this whole blogging world, all these people with great thoughts and feelings and Rules and Opinions. I've lurked on some blogs for a while, and people, i.e. other bloggers are so mean! They can't stand differences of opinion or others not playing the game Their Way. So I'm not sure what to do, not sure what to say, a little bit scared of what the Big Wide World of the internet is goign to do to little me. But here I am.
I guess I'm writing this blog in part because of all the changes that have happened in my life lately. I'm trying to process that, trying to figure out what kind of girl I am. I have gone from an irresponsible undergrad literature major, with wonderful Roommate and blissful boyfriend, to Professional doctoral psychology student, unattached, living in a house full of girls whom I barely know. I've gone from Independent thinking, at my orthodox but oh-so-interesting Catholic undergrad, to Strict Evangelical in my I-don't-even-know-what grad school. I've gone from sunny Texas, to sunny California, but not even the sun is the same in those two states. I've gone from rich, warm, Southern culture, to cool, shallow SoCal, all in a matter of three months. I've gone from comfy, easy, and generally happy, to hard, frightening, and oh-so-lonely. So what will become of me now?
I decided to call this blog First Day of the Rest of my Life to try and reflect a sense of adventure about where my life is going. I, like Bilbo Baggins, am not terribly adventurous by nature. I would like to stay warm, comfortable, and generally happy forever. But then I would have whiled away my life instead of Living it. We'll see if titling my life actually works. ;-)
Most of all, this blog is written to you, Late Boyfriend that I love, altho now you must be dead to me. Ha! I'm looking at your picutre now, and the smile on your face, and thinking of the life we would have had together, and I Cannot give it up. So, for the moment, I won't. Instead, I'll write to you, as well as to the world in general, and tell you all the things you'll never read. After all, there's nothing like denial. ;-)