The Stream

So this whole being involved thing isn’t always exactly what I expect. Though most of the time its great to be busy, to feel needed, and to make a difference, occasionally, the feeling is quite the opposite.

Now I’m not talking about being overwhelmed with responsibility or being too involved. Though people tell me I am, I’m yet to feel this way. The balance has been struck, and the only thing that tampers with it is the unexpected.

And unexpected is what I got.

As the President of Wall Residential College, I was on the selections committee to pick which residents would be returning. It was only logical that I do so, especially since I knew most of them, and interacted with them on a community level. I was excited about this additional responsibility . . . . . . until people got their emails letting them know if they were invited back or not.

Suddenly, it was NOT exciting anymore. People were upset with me, not realizing that I was only part of a selections process much larger than my personal relationship with them. The backlash was extraordinary in the fact that I didn’t anticipate it at ALL. I know how I deal with conflict, and I assumed that everyone would deal the same way. Unfortunately, not everyone is as reserved about their sentiments. People openly called me out on it and even approached me, criticizing my choices.

Woodrow Wilson once said, “The man swimming against the stream knows the strength of it.” I didn’t anticipate ever being in a position where I’d be in that stream. But I guess that’s the definition of leadership . . . .doing what makes everybody happy and doing what makes nobody happy and treating the two sets of actions the same way. Public approval, though very necessary for a leader, sometimes is superseded by a duty and obligation to the larger community. It’s one of those tough choices I never thought I’d have to make, but now that I’m here, I’m a leader. And I have to make those choices.

What I have to remind myself from time to time is that leadership is not supposed to be easy. In the end, its worth it, because I know that the best possible community is going to be returning to Wall next year. Hopefully, you incoming freshman will realize that too when you interact with these kids next fall.

And when you all tell me how much fun you’re having at Wall, I’ll think back on all this for a brief moment, and then smile and move on.

I sure know the strength of this stream.

But regardless of how strong the current, I’m going to keep swimming.

Freshman Representin'

The year is quickly coming to an end, and with much sadness, I realize that I’m not going to be a freshman anymore. High school won’t just be around the corner anymore . . .rather, it will become a more and more distant memory.

But I have had so much fun as a freshman! Though I only spent one semester here at Tulane, it has been enough to mark me as an individual and set me on a path for the next three years. Being involved as a freshman, I learned, is one of the most important ways to start off.

I will admit, however, that most of my friends look at my busy schedule and tell me I’m crazy. But as a freshman, jumping in and trying new things is the only way you’ll find out what you love to do. And as you become an upperclassmen, it is these activities that will distinguish you. I was lucky; I came here to Tulane and made the most of every opportunity I had. There are still so many opportunities I would love to take, but at this point, taking on any more responsibility would really be insanity! For example, several weeks ago I got an email about being a representative on the student health board. I had to physically restrain myself from jumping into that too. Between the presidency of Wall, exec board of the India Association of Tulane University, and pledging for Delta Xi Nu Multicultural Sorority Inc, I’m booked. Occasionally, I try to branch out, but usually this schedule keeps me busy every night of the week minus Fridays and Saturdays.

At University of Texas at Austin last semester, I found myself surrounded by familiar faces, a great environment, and a lot of fun. Having come to school late due to the hurricane, I was perfectly happy making that my excuse for not getting involved. I was fortunate, because I had a chance to start all over at Tulane. But not everybody gets that chance, and too many freshman are happy coasting and partying before they realize that they’re missing out on a lot of amazing adventures with different organizations and groups on campus.

So for all you incoming freshman–the opportunities are definitely there. Just make sure you take them! You don’t have to be super involved . . .all you have to do is dabble in a few things and look for what really interests you. You might even be surprised! College is a whole different venue from high school, and the term “involved” takes on a completely different meaning. It’s not just the stereotypical group of Student Council officers and National Honor Society leaders that gets involved here . . . . its everybody!

The adventures I’ve had this semester with my organizations have been great . . .and they are chances that were solely available to freshman. I’ve got my track for the next three years, and I owe it all to the people who encouraged me and welcomed me . . . . .IATU, the management of Wall Residential College, my sorority sisters . . . .and of course, the Admissions Office at Tulane that invited me to become a blogger!

Thanks guys! I owe you one!

Me, Simran, Karthik, and Rita- all on the IATU Executive Board 2006

The three freshman representatives on the IATU Board- Me, Karthik, and Rita!

Medea

Oscar Wilde once professed that “There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.” Both are tragedies because sometimes what we want the most is the most detrimental to us. It is a theme forever present in the eternal spirit of Greek tragedies. The suffering and sorrow of the main characters is to prove Wilde’s point–that no matter what the actions along the way, the outcome is the same. The fates of these characters are predetermined, and nothing they do will stop the gods from playing with them as pawns on a chessboard. Such is the case in the Greek tragedy Medea, where a crazed and twisted woman ends up murdering everyone near to her in an effort to find vengeance.

It doesn’t seem like the sort of story that should be a play–everyone dying, the entire moral structure collapsing into a mess of tears and grief at the end. An ancient Greek proverb said that “If it were not for hope, the heart would break.” Medea herself eventually loses all hope that her life can change, and her broken heart leads her to commit unspeakable crimes. Ultimately, Medea is a twisted woman devoid of rational thought, and in Tulane’s own production of Medea, Kathleen Small perfectly lived this role. It’s the actors and actresses that breathed life into the story and made a story seemingly not appropriate for stage into the masterpiece it was.
The other characters were also outstanding. The chorus was well versed and proficient in telling the story in low and forceful tones. Creon (whom we know from both Oedipus and Antigone) is bound by the ethics of his past drama. Jason is fearful and his internal stuggle becomes evident throughout the play. His last monologue was the most appealing—his anger and grief were directly felt. If the sky was raining tears over him, the audience was also drenched. It was consummation in sorrow and in my mind, that’s the point of a Greek tragedy.

My favorite character though, was definitely the nurse. I thought Courtney Pauroso did a superb job playing the role. Perhaps her role inherently preserves the humanity of the play, but in my opinion, it was her portrayal that did so. While Medea was crazed and torn at the same time, the nurse was her foil in that she was concerned and watchful. She was the only character in the play (besides the chorus) that wasn’t bound by deep jealousies, rivalries, and crimes. She was an insider but an outsider to the Greek drama that formed the plot of Medea. Because she wasn’t bound by the moral conflicts that ruled over every other main character, she was the most rational.

The entire play was well coordinated, from the lighting to the music. The beats of the music harmonized with the mood of the play, and there were several moments when the characters were moving in contrasting patterns to the rhythm that spoke more powerfully than moments of monologues. I enjoyed this play more than I thought I would. As I watched the story unfold on the stage, I was more and more impressed with each of the characters and the way they become their characters in truth and perfection. I was thrilled to witness this living art and it become very evident the weeks of work it took the cast and crew to bring it to this standard of flawlessness.

Wilde’s truth was preserved in this play–Medea gets what she wants but doesn’t get what she ultimately wants. She finds her vengeance, but at a cost too high to pay. Tulane’s actors and actresses did a perfect job of investigating the plight of Medea and the other characters. For the audience, it was a lesson in tragedy.

Dat Phan + Karma = FUN

So its like 6 pm, and I’ve only been awake for about . . .2 hours. My parents don’t understand this at all . . . . . . if you’re in college and you have plans for Friday night, chances are slim to none that you’ll wake up on Saturday. Except of course, to get up to get ready to go out again. Cool, right?

Last night I was out and about from 7 pm to about 4 am, because of the Asian American Student Union’s wonderful standup show– DAT PHAN, and then the AASU + Indian Association of Tulane University coprogramming for the afterparty- KARMA! It was sooooooo much fun!

<<(The crowd at Dixon Auditorium watching Dat Phan ) Dat Phan was pretty amazing. He was the winner of Comedy Central’s Last Comic Standing. He was HILARIOUS!!!! His act was based on his ethnicity, but he did well imitating other races and cultures too. His jokes ranged from slightly risque to family humor. My favorite part was when he was explaining how his mother dislikes every girl he brings home, except the Asian ones. There was something in his act for every member of the audience, and it was that bit that did it for me! It was an amazing show that I was lucky enough to see. Afterwards, we all got a picture with him, and I got his autograph. We waited in line for like 20 minutes . . .which meant I had about 20 minutes to get ready for Karma. Oh well. <<(Dat Phan here at Tulane)

I went to Karma, and I did my thing . . . . . dancing and all that. It was huge this time, and the DJs were good. There was a huge variety of people there this time, and that’s the most fun part of it. I ran into several of my executive officers from Wall, as well as the graduate hall director, and then many girls from the sorority I’m pledging as well. It was intense!

But the best part of it is that it is a party. So though I was there on behalf of IATU (since I’m on the board), it was a party after all. Everyone that usually expected something from me during the weekdays (Sorority sisters, exec officers, even IATU board) let it slide and I got to have a good time, regardless of the responsibilites floating in the air with the people at that party. Everyone sort of understood that it was just a night to chill.

Which is what I did . . . . .and therefore why I woke up 2.5 hours ago.

Welcome to college, y’all!

Go Study!

Man, the things I wish someone had told me while I was in high school:
1. Studying- its pretty essential in college
2. Trying to cut back on sleep is not the best strategy for getting more done in a day
3. It is possible to get food poisoning if you eat something sketchy looking, and especially if its at a time when you cannot afford to be sick
4. When professors say you should study an hour a week outside class for every hour you spend in class, they aren’t just exaggerating, hoping you’ll spend a fourth of that time studying
5. Two words that will make you or break you: MID TERMS
6. Exams are a REALLY big deal here . . . homework really isn’t important
7. Sometimes, after you’ve skipped class a lot of times, your professor will say that if you’ve missed more than 3 times you’re being docked letter grades
8. 90-100 is NOT an A
9. 89.6 does NOT round up to an A unless specifically mentioned by the professor
10. It’s very difficult to study in your room, on your bed, when your roommate is taking a nap
11. Library–people do go there to study
12. Highlighters and post-its should be your best friends, especially at a university where “all text sales are final”
13. Tulane is HARD, don’t let its big easy atmosphere fool you
14. If you party hard, you better be working equally hard
15. There are no excuses for missing a lab . . .unless you’re dead, GO TO LAB
16. Don’t wait until the last second to write a lab report, because chances are, its the one that takes the longest to do

Clearly, its a Week of Study for me!

Holi

So today was Holi.

Holi is an Indian festival where people run around and throw colored powder at each other. Sometimes, they use paint, water balloons, and water guns as well. It’s a holiday they celebrate with great pomp and circumstance in India, but here, no one can imagine a holiday dedicated to behaving as though one is three years old.

Except here at Tulane, with the Indian Association of Tulane University. Today we had Holi, and it was the most fun I’ve had in awhile. We went to the park, found a spot right by St. Charles, and then proceeded to pelt each other with colors and paint. Hopefully, the paint was non toxic, because we ended up getting it in our hair, faces, mouths, and contacts. And then we did the most Indian thing we could do– we washed up in the fountain! I’m sure the water was water we wouldnt normally want anywhere near us, let alone on our limbs and faces, but then again, if you’re Indian, you’re also resourceful. So we pretty much bathed in our own river Ganges . . . the probably still Katrina-contaminated water in the Audobon fountain!

And of course, people stared. They just thought we were a bunch of teenage idiots, though we were celebrating an ancient cultural tradition. Holi celebrates the new spring season with bright colors and fun in the sun. It is a national holiday in India, and because it falls in March, I’ve never been to a Holi celebration (that I remember). It’s an impractical holiday, which is why as an American raised kid, I’ve never celebrated it before.

So here at Tulane University, I got to know a little more about my heritage, and therefore a little more about me.

Oh the things you will find in New Orleans!!!

Growing Pains

Last summer seems such a long time ago.

Now those of you more intelligent than me are probably thinking, “Well, that’s because it WAS 9 months ago.”

True, but those of you who are seniors now will totally understand what I mean when you’re in the middle of your second semester. Suddenly, you realize that your life has changed so much in the last year. Suddenly you’re no longer a kid, you’re an adult.

You’re suddenly this person that’s totally different from the high school senior you once were. You have completely different friends and different relationships with the friends you still have. If you’re an involved student, you don’t have time anymore to catch your favorite Monday night WB specials. You’re lucky if you get a couple of minutes to nap every day. Sleep and food are your two highest priorities. After that, its partying and studying. Hopefully, studying is the next priority in line, and if its not, well, then you’re one of those college freshman that figure it out the hard way!

Your relationships with other people mature. You begin to have social obligations, like calling your friends on their birthdays, or catching up every once in awhile with your old neighbors when you are in town. You have two separate worlds, and very rarely do they coincide. You study a lot more because you do realize college is a lot harder than high school. You live in a dorm with other kids just like you, and unlike you and your high school friends, you guys will bond over all of the college student priorities above mentioned: sleep, food, studying, and partying alike.

I remember my first impressions of dorms at Tulane last summer. I didn’t want to live in Wall because I didn’t want to be “too close to authority,” meaning I didn’t want to live in the same building as a professor. Now, I could not be happier that I’m here. It’s the nicest freshman dorm on campus, and just telling people I live in Wall generates a spark of envy. The building is built around an inner courtyard, and that itself propagates cross-floor conversations on the balconies and a real sense of community. My parents made me choose Wall, and though I hated that at the time, they were right.

Admitting your parents were right about stuff . . . .that’s another big thing you’ll be doing around now. If you are anything like me and very stubborn about college, all I have to tell you is wait til you get here. You’re going to love it.

So this is my own reflection as I near the end of my freshman year. I’m sure there will be plenty more reflection.

After all, when you get to college, its not just that you are in a new place with new people. You do change, and although you’re not sure when or how, you get a lot older, and a lot wiser in a very short time span. A remarkable change happens, though you’re not sure when or how.

You grow up.

Wall Officers and me- go Wall RC!

New friends rock!

Love Letters to New Orleans

Agnes De Mille once said, “To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautiful, more powerful. This is power, it is glory on earth and it is yours for the taking.” Her prolific words ring true especially in the context of modern dance—when expressions become whole body movements and unorganized routines reflecting some passion, some ideal, and some truth. After watching Love Letters to New Orleans, a performance by Sara and Patrik and Tulane dancers, I too can appreciate the human glory that is dance in its basest form.Love Letters to New Orleans began with an old woman playing the piano. The entire dance show was peppered with interviews and clips of New Orleans residents. The tragedy and destruction was felt firsthand as the dancers emulated their emotions through movements and dialogues. Sara’s solo in particular was moving to me, as it perfectly showed the rise and fall of New Orleans through her tortured movements. It was as though New Orleans was meant to be hit. In one way or another, the Big Easy received the Big One—the apocalyptic hurricane prophesized through tales and gossip for years. This too was mirrored by the dancers and the images they complemented. The move where they waved to pre-Katrina pictures of New Orleans perfection nearly brought tears to my eyes, as they were not only waving to the gorgeous houses shown on the screen, but to a way of life. This move was then paralleled by the clips of New Orleans’ young ballet dancers, people on the streets, and my dance teacher Alise waving and turning to look over their shoulders. It was quite sad, really, because everyone was waving goodbye to a way of life that we all used to have before the hurricane. Even us New Orleans college students are included here . . . .for the hurricane changed our lives too. How quickly, though, we move on past that and forget that problems with which we no longer deal (lack of clothes and books last semester when we went to different colleges) are problems that make up the daily lives of the 1/3 of New Orleans residents that have returned. If there’s a reason our bathrooms don’t get cleaned, the dorm looks a little messy, and every University Services company is grossly understaffed, its because of this new way of life. I hear residents complain all the time, and its unfortunate that they do not see past their superficial complaints to the root of the problems. There is no quick fix here in New Orleans . . . it is a slow, long process of recovery. Love Letters to New Orleans was the perfect performance to remind us of that. Although everything was lost in a classical moment of human downfall, rebuilding and restoring takes time. Hindsight is 20/20, and none of us can tell the future. The dancers in Love Letters showed this uncertainty coupled with desparation in their performance. One particular outstanding piece of dialogue was “I have seen the face of hell” and the sad part is that it’s true. Anyone here after the hurricane saw this human hell. But anyone here after that saw the purging of the society and the glorious but slow return to purgatory-like human existence.

The dialogues, clips, images, and dance routines in Love Letters to New Orleans all expressed human glory in some form or another. Although we give up one form of life pre-Katrina, we adopt another post-Katrina. It is performances like this that make sure we do not forget what we have been through, and why life in New Orleans is the way it is. The fact that this city is recovering at all is human glory, for what else can take us through the “face of hell?" And this dance performance has its role amongst all that—it expresses this glory bigger, and more beautiful. It is dancers escaping their normal roles, as Agnes De Mille suggests, but at the same time, these dancers do not escape reality. None of us do.

Community Service

I woke up this morning so sore that I could barely move. It took me a very long time to get up, shower, get dressed, and intend to go to McWilliams to attend the performance Love Letters to New Orleans. It took me even longer to walk to McWilliams. Pretty much everyone I saw also heading in that direction passed me. Getting out of bed was the last thing I wanted to do, and I’m still hurting, even now, as I write this. Why, you ask? Because yesterday I did some community service.

What I ended up doing was walking around with a large pole, peeling lead paint off the ceiling. This involved wearing a gas mask and goggles to prevent any dust from getting in my eyes or mouth. The problem, I quickly discovered, was that the humidity of the environment led to the gas mask getting very sweaty very quickly. And then, as I was craning my head up towards the ceiling to attack the lead paint, the gas mask would slide down my nose til it was almost hanging off my face. Which meant I had to readjust it. And start all over again.

I must have taken breaks every 5 minutes while doing that particular job. Now, for those of you who know something about me, you may be wondering why exactly a small 5′3″ girl is trying to get something off the ceiling. Two of my pledge sisters were doing it too, and in fact, one volunteered first, which then led me to follow. Hard physical labor is something not many people want to do, and because of that, the three smallest girls there ended up doing it. Eventually, lunchtime came around, and we were relieved of those particular duties. We spent the rest of the day priming, which was a MUCH less arduous task.

We worked at Allen Elementary School, which is being turned into a math and science high school by NOLA Hurricane Fund. They were explaining to us how exactly they wanted to renovate all the walls and ceilings. They had already finished the second floor, and if you walk around it, you will be surprised at how fresh, clean, and colorful it looks compared to the rest of the building, and any nearby buildings in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. It’s an admirable task, and it was something to which I hope I contributed, and contribute more in the future.

Someone famous, who probably never went through this kind of physical soreness before, said, “No pain, no gain.” I guess that’s true in the end. I may be hurting physically now, but at least this means that some New Orleans students won’t be hurting intellectually later.

At Tulane, the opportunities for jobs like this are extensive. With CACTUS, and NOLA Hurricane Fund, plus a plethora of independent projects all over New Orleans, an active kid can always find a way to contribute. It’s one of the reasons I came back to New Orleans, so please don’t mind all the complaining. Many others do these types of tasks on a much more regular basis, and really, we should consider ourselves lucky to be part of the rebirth of New Orleans at all. We have an incredible chance to give back to the community, and that is something we each should do, in some way or another.

And if you’re lucky enough, you might find yourself with a large pole and a gas mask, rebuilding New Orleans one lead paint chip at a time. =)

Trust

Trust is a very fragile thing.

You don’t really figure that out until you have one of those epiphanies where you realize how little you trust other people. Even the people that are closest to you. Suddenly you find yourself telling little white lies to get out of telling the truth and why? Because you don’t trust the other person with the truth. As though the truth is too much for that person to handle.

What’s sad is that in our society, it is becoming more and more acceptable to do this. With the rebellious teen culture not only being promoted but propagated through movies, music, and media in general, its becoming more than just a societal norm– its becoming a fad. It’s suddenly normal to lie to your parents and family because you’ve done something that they don’t approve of, and you feel awfully guilty about it. Instead of purging your guilt, you shelter it, and push it into the depths of your mind without ever letting it resurface.

Or at least that’s what I do. It’s a personal habit of mine that has suddenly started to take a toll on me as a person, and on my relationship with the people closest to me.

But if kids are suddenly behaving more the rebels, parents are behaving more conservative. I know that in many cases, my actions were not rebellious in spirit, but honest mistakes that I felt I could not tell anyone because no one else would understand that. My rebellious nature paved a road for actions grounded in the same ideology, but like all teenagers, I’m a good kid at heart.

College is certainly a forum where all this becomes exposed. I have so many friends here at Tulane, each with totally different relationships with their family and closest friends. I have a friend who hates his mother, because she could have a mental illness that manifests itself in irrationality and instability. I have another friend who is best friends with her mother, and they share an uncommonly strong bond. Most kids are like me, somwhere in the middle. But I’m a unique situation. Since coming to Tulane, my relationship with my parents in Russia has become more and more strained, for less and less obvious reasons. We’re 8,000 miles apart, and I find that for the first time in my life, I’m having a lot of trouble talking. I wish I could just go to them, and they wouldn’t be angry when I make a mistake, but they just aren’t like that. Perfection is what they demand, and that’s an awfully hard standard to ever maintain. So I pretend life is perfect . . .to perfection.

Why? Because I’m honestly afraid that they can’t handle the truth. I’m a college kid, just like every other college kid, and Tulane fosters a certain type of lifestyle. We are responsible kids, but we work hard and play hard at the same time. I do the same thing, and for some reason, this is a bad thing. Especially if I make some sort of mistake in the process.

But here’s the bottom line: the whole point of college is not to live away from your parents and get away from all those problems with trusting them. The point is to live in a community as an adult, and as a young adult, begin to see why those problems exist and work on bridging the gaps. My exposure to others’ relationships with their families here at Tulane has become monumental in me trying to repair mine. Trust me guys, I know what its like to be far away from your family, and if you’re going away to college for that reason, its just not worth it in the end. At some point, you’ll figure out that as an adult, you have to tell them the truth. And just hope that they trust you enough to understand.

And until that point occurs…

Oh the web we weave.

Spring Break

When I was in elementary school, I had many Best Friends. Notice the capital letters because in my childhood, it was almost a title, bestowed upon my closest friend that year. But the following year, he or she and I would drift apart, someone else would claim the title, and the cycle would begin all over again. It was always ephemeral . . . . . I would claim that person was my Best Friend Forever, but then forever was only a few months. As a child very inclined towards the popularity swings of peer politics, I didn’t know what a true friend was. I only believed in the concept at face value . . and this continued until high school when I began to make friends whom I really trusted.

But here in college, I’m finding friendship on totally new levels. Just this spring break, two of my pledge sisters came with me to my house in Houston. We had a great week- we went shopping, we went to the beach, we went to the Space Center . . . . .we genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. We bought shoes together, we shopped at little kid stores (because we’re all small girls who can!), and we spent hours just basking in the sun together. We went to Galveston, to downtown Houston (where we got hopelessly lost), and to all kinds of diverse restaurants. We were around each other 24-7 and instead of merely interacting, we bonded. And then when I got in a wreck on Saturday, they both were there for me, and without them I wouldn’t have come out of the situation as well as I did. Now its a big joke, just another part of our crazy adventure.

Roshmi at NASA

This is what I would look like on Jupiter!

Roshmi excited about a pixel game at NASA

Iris and me checking out light

sensors at NASA

Rocket Park, NASA

Here at Tulane, you find such a diversity of personality types . . . . people that are drawn together by one common goal but have nothing else in common. My friends are very different from each other and from me, but for some reason, our odd combination of characteristics and traits just works. It’s like a puzzle to which you don’t have all the pieces. Suddenly, there’s a girl from California and one from Virginia and they just fit right in, making a whole picture of friendship and sisterhood.

I’m really glad to have come to Tulane and have met people like them. Elementary school friends, however, are also part of that puzzle. They’re the pieces that you find and try to fit into that one spot where you have a hole. Even if they don’t last long, you’re still glad you tried them.
Me at Galveston!

But friends like the ones I’m making at Tulane . . .they’re not just the right pieces to fit with me and my personality. I hesitate to use “Best Friend” to describe them . . . . .but I will say that they are new additions to my life, and something tells me they’ll stick around for awhile.
In the puzzle that’s my complete collegiate experience at Tulane, I definitely found the missing pieces.

Three Amigos- Me, Iris, Roshmi

When I Was In High School. . . .

Today I noticed something: when college students speak, they tend to speak of their previous experiences with the disclaimer “When I was in high school . . . .” High school suddenly becomes this whole separate universe of yesteryears, a time and place when we were younger, more innocent, and definitely less cool. High school is no longer a part of the present and only fading into the hazy memories of halcyon years that slowly slip out of our grasp.

One of my last high school experiences- National Forensic League Nationals in Philly with my best friend Eman

And yet for some of us, it was only 9 months ago that we too were infamous high schoolers.

As I look back on my high school years, I see a remarkable transition in me since then. Things that I could have never imagined saying, doing, and believing suddenly seem like no big deal. Just 9 months ago, certain aspects of life remained hidden to me in my small conservative Texas town. I blithely walked the streets ignoring the jungle of human insanity that perpetuated the hysteria of drugs, alcohol, and sex that prevailed on them in the afterhours. For me, and my small town, such facts of life simply didn’t exist. And if they did, they were awful, terrible, and a Judgment was made: Good People don’t expose themselves to such things.

Just 9 months ago I thought drinking was awful, any kind of drugs were even worse, and a combination of the two would lead to certain death immediately. Just 9 months ago, I thought that anyone that had sex before marriage was sinful, that teenage pregnancies were the result of people not controlling their hormones, and that a guy in a bar hitting on me was the basest insult. Just 9 months ago, I couldn’t imagine that some of my views, shaped by my hometown and background, would turn completely before my first year in college was over.

Just 9 months ago, I was innocent.

Especially here at Tulane, I’ve learned a lot about people, their choices, and their habits. One thing I’ve learned is that I can’t try to change people, certainly not every person I meet. I myself can choose not to partake in some of the worse habits that circulate here, and hope others learn their lessons themselves. After all, a party pooper isn’t appreciated in a party town. But as I’m more and more exposed to these radical new actions and beliefs, I find myself becoming less and less shocked by them.

Which then led me to think: Since when were all these choices ok with me? Since when was I so used to seeing people inebriated in some way that I expected it of them? Since when did I tolerate such behavior from my friends and those around me?

I’ve become completely desensitized to my worst sins as of 9 months ago. Now I think drinking is ok, occasional drug use is even ok, and the two won’t lead to death right away. Now I think that premarital sex is the norm, and that abortion is important because accidents do happen. I’m a more liberal thinker than I ever was, and sometimes, it scares me because I don’t know anymore where I draw that line between things Good People do and those things that Bad People do. I always said that I didn’t judge people by their actions, but ultimately, its their actions that mold them as figures in society. But since coming to Tulane, I find myself having a more and more difficult time drawing that ephemeral line. Every time I meet someone new with a habit I don’t like, some kind of wind blows away my line and I have to etch it again. And again. And again. I find that I meet so many different people here, and I tend to be blown away by their unique characteristics, unwilling to look past them to the Bad habits.

Maybe its all just a matter of personal choice, and I can choose to accept people without accepting all of their choices. Maybe there are no such things as choices for Good People and choices for Bad People. Heck, maybe the line between Good and Bad isn’t that clear anyways.

But . . . .When I was in high school, it was.

Mardi Gras Madness

Walt Disney once said, “It’s kind of fun to do the impossible.” His idea was promoted through the magic he spun with childrens’ imaginations through the ages with classic fairy tales and contemporary stories. But the impossible, as I discovered, isn’t just meant for children. Mardi Gras here in New Orleans is a different kind of magic. It’s a witchcraft that entangles the imaginations of everyone involved. It seduces, it beckons, and it draws you in until you find yourself totally immersed in the wizardry that is the culture of New Orleans.

A perfect example of this is the parades. People dress up, get on these double decker floats each representing some mythical idea, all centered around a theme. The parade Zulu, which had the subtitle “Social Aid and Pleasure Club” was all about representing the ancient and innate madness woven into New Orleans society today. Grown men and women dressed up, put on costumes and face paint, and rode on elaborate floats. And we all stood on the sidelines, yelling, waving our arms, reaching for prizes, and for that moment we were in the land of the Zulu. In all reality, the prizes being handed out– beads, cups, and the infamous coconut for which many strive and only a few receive– are worth little in dollars and cents. But in the moment of Zulu, they are the currency of our imagination. And though at first, seemingly silly, we too become a part of the madness. My most exciting moment was when a coconut was bestowed upon me. It’s a special type of attention from a stranger you don’t even know, a sort of human connection in a faraway land.

The first parade I went to was Muses. I caught the end of that, and picked up many beads. But I didn’t really get into it unti I attended Hermes the following day. At first I couldn’t imagine making a fool of myself just to get some beads . . . . .but then I was doing it just like everyone else. There’s something about Mardi Gras that makes you forget the impossible, makes you breach social etiquette, and makes you behave like a natural human again. That’s the fun part. Now people often take that too far and get roaring drunk and roam Bourbon Street. But all of that is easily forgiven- its Mardi Gras, after all, where the impossible becomes the real.

Even now, as I sort through my beads, I find myself teleported to this land of yesterday and the day before. I remember the stories behind all of my beads, and I remember those moments when I was carried away by the jovial attitudes and tunes dancing in the air with the floats. I remember especially well when a complete stranger took beads off his own neck or gave me an elaborate set of beads for the sole reason that he looked into my eyes and we made an instantaneous connection. I remember when men handed me plastic flowers and kissed me on the cheeks on Mardi Gras. I was totally weirded out by it, inhibited by my societally fixated judgment of such men. But then I saw it happen to others, and I realized it was a tradition. For that moment some total stranger could kiss me and I could accept his gesture because it was one of pure human kindness. Although Mardi Gras isn’t devoid of many sexual connotations, there are only certain places you will find them. The greatest mistake a person can make is in assuming that there is a motive behind every kind of Mardi Gras madness, because truthfully, Mardi Gras is just a series of moments celebrating the universal human connection.

After this whole amazing week, I feel like New Orleans has really found a place in my heart. I saw so many parades– Muses, Hermes, Krewe D’Etat, Endymion, Orpheus, Baccus . . . and through those I saw so many places, met so many people, and visited so many foreign worlds. Walt Disney spoke wisely when he said it was fun to do the impossible. In New Orleans, however, reality is ephemeral. My memories of this week will remain with me no matter where I go.

Impossible is forever.

Me and my favorite parade buddy- my amazing suitemate Jen!

Joe and me- Look at all our beads!!!

Me sitting on Joe’s shoulder’s catching beads during Endymion

Jen, Joe, and me at Bacchus

The Magic of Mardi Gras- Me, Jen, Blake (L), Austin

This is the whole gang. From left to right in the back row- Me, my roommate Puja, Aden (standing behind), Rita, Ed, Joe, Chris. Standing in front (L to R) are Roshni, Jennie, and Jen. In front of them in the corner are Austin (L) and Jacob.