Remembering Katrina

On August 29, 2005, my first week of college, Hurricane Katrina devastated the Gulf Coast.

Six months later, through Hillel International, I traveled to the coast with hundreds of college students. We worked on fixing a family's roof in Biloxi. The following year, I went on a similar trip to New Orleans.

The trip moved me. As a freshman, I wrote about my experience and it was published in a few places. More importantly, I haven't really been able to forget what a disaster like that looks like, even when you see it six months later. I remember the stench of the water, the miles of what used to be homes but what was instead devastation. But what inspired me the most was the commitment of the people to rebuild and the incredible love they felt for their home, despite the region's problems. During my orientation in South Africa, we were told not to judge the South Africans, because America showed we weren't much better off during Hurricane Katrina. "We saw who was stranded on rooftops," my country director said.

Of all the places I have been, the Gulf Coast touched me in a very special way.

Cutting shingles for a roof in Biloxi, Mississippi. Later, as the "little one" in the group, I nailed in nearly every shingle. March 2006.

Floorboards to the house we gutted in New Orleans. This house had 5 feet of water in the house post-Katrina that sat for weeks. We had to rip family photos off the floorboards to try to salvage them for the family. March 2007

Pulling off shingles to start anew. Biloxi, March 2006.

In June, when a friend and I traveled to New Orleans for a weekend getaway, I couldn't believe how normal the city looked. Human resilience is an incredible thing, but as a country we must not forget the lessons learned from this tragedy, nor the people who bore the brunt of the consequences.

*Thanks to Becca K and Sarah B for posting these on facebook back in the day.

Earthquake-ocalypse

If you haven't heard by this point that there was an earthquake in DC today, let me tell you: There was an earthquake in DC, a 5.8, lasting about 45 seconds, to be exact!

My office is located on the grounds of the National Cathedral and when the earth started shaking I absolutely couldn't believe an earthquake was possible. But there weren't many other options, and given the fact my office is in a very old stone building with already crumbly walls, I turned to my office-mate and told her we needed to get out of the building. We ran outside to hear a giant crash! Pieces of the cathedral were breaking off. 

The actual quake was scary as I didn't even know a quake of that magnitude or length was possible in DC, I knew the building I was in probably wasn't safe, and walking outside to see falling concrete from the sky was not really my idea of an awesome afternoon. Afterward, however, people's reactions were a bit extreme.

Not only the National Cathedral suffered damage. Many neighborhoods sustained damage as well. And friends from the west couldn't help but to remind us all, that a 5.8 is just another event over breakfast.

Just another exciting day in the district!

You Are Not Alone In This

I have not blogged in forever and a day, and every day I kind of hate myself for it. So I'm here to say I'm back and ready to continue keeping my new year's resolution of blogging more!

This year I applied for a fellowship to work overseas. My work was supportive, my family was supportive, and my friends were supportive even though they were sad at the idea of me leaving. My application was stellar, all my mentors said I’d get in, and the fellowship people even said so in not as many words. I wanted this program more than almost anything I’ve ever wanted: for my career, for my future, for my soul. After making it to the final 100 out of 2500 applicants, I was rejected.  And I was crushed.

Yesterday, I got an email from the program announcing their new class of fellows. Despite my curiosity, I deleted the email, and after a few moments of fury-induced contemplation of throwing my computer out the window, I decided to spend the day concentrating on why my life in DC is great rather than reminding myself of this loss (I like to think, anyway, that they’re losing out more than me):

I have a great new house, with roommates who will sit on the front porch with me until 1am talking about what it means to be in a healthy relationship while laughing as our dog barks at people passing by.

I met someone who looks exactly like Jude Law.

I went up to a roof that looks out onto the entire city and was, for one of the first times in my life, speechless. Speechless at the beauty of DC and at how much you can see if you have the right view.

Having the right view, I’m learning, is really important. It’s amazing what you can see about your past, and how you want your future to go, when you look at it from a new perspective.

The new perspective is key. I realized when I was purposefully thinking positively that while I would have loved to be working in East Africa right now, my time here has allowed me to foster beautiful relationships with beautiful people and places that I would have missed out on had I left, and I’m reminded that I have a lot going for me.

According to this great article recently shared with me, “What We Have Going for Us,” I’m right, I do have a lot going for me. This article is a beautiful tribute to your 20s, and there's a lot in it that I love.

The way she describes growing up:
“Something happens between the ages of 20 and 25. This is your first go-round as an adult. Your brain shifts and closes and hardens like the soft spot on an infant’s skull. You try harder. You begin to stand up on those baby deer legs and learn how to carry yourself in challenging situations.”

The way she describes the people you relate to:
“We are attracted to people who were loved in the ways we were loved as children. We are attracted to people who are lacking in ways we understand.”

But mostly, I love the way she describes the best friends in the world:
“There are the friends you meet for the occasional happy hour, and there are friends with whom you have longstanding Taco Tuesdays. Taco Tuesday means a bottle of wine for each person and peeling back the business-casual mask of the weekday while relaying mortifying tales of performed adulthood to one another. You hit reply all. You cried at your desk. You said “I love you” when you were unprepared or drunk or sober. Any day can be Taco Tuesday. These are the people who fill in your blanks. These are the right people.”

Every Sunday, three friends and I have dinner together, where we cry and laugh and yell. We take turns hosting and cooking and cleaning. This tradition is my “Taco Tuesday,” and I think life in DC would be a lot harder without these, and other comparable, rituals and friends.

When I got rejected from my fellowship, I took a day off of work. My friends from Sunday Night Dinner, plus one other, met me for lunch. We sat around the food trucks talking, not really about my rejection, but just talking to be together. They hugged me, and one gave me a card, and dubbed the day “Laiah Day.” She hoped I wouldn’t forget why she thinks I’m great.

In a city of transplants, being able to make your own family is essential. Whether it’s “Taco Tuesdays” or Sunday Night Dinners or anything and everything in between, I am lucky to have my family of choice by my side when my real family is far away.  From heartbreaking rejections to celebrating love, it’s nice to remember I’m not alone in all of this, because, after all, as the article says, “There is no IRL [in real life]. This is everything.”

After one of the biggest let-downs, I was carried onwards and upwards by my biggest fans. I am not alone, will not be knocked down by another's decision, and I will continue to live to the point of exhaustion in my 20s. Because this is what everything is all about.