Treme

I watched the pilot today. There's a scene where a man comes home to his flooded house and sees the image of his wrecked life. And without expecting it I wept like a little baby.

I miss it there sometimes. It's so small, so soulful, so easy. Life is simpler and more fun. Things don't cost so much goddamn money. Things revolve around beer and music instead of work.

I mean, I know it's not really like that. I know it's actually more complicated.

Maybe I didn't lose everything I owned the same way flooded people did, but I still lost my life. I lost...I don't know, the ability to give a shit about beer and music. And I just fucked up so bad buying that house with J, even after I lost my love for him in Montpellier...and I'm so, so pissed off about it.

I hate that I ever went there sometimes. And sometimes I wish the place had been totally wiped off the planet.

And I didn't lose everything, so I forget that I'm allowed to cry about it. I forget that I was stuck in Colorado, not on vacation there. And I forget that I went back to try and reclaim something that never really existed for me there.

I don't know, maybe I'm crying because I was stupid enough to believe in the mirage of fun and happiness. Maybe I'm crying because I'm scared I'll never know the kind of happiness I saw and hoped for there.

When I moved to New Orleans I wanted to be a part of something, but I was always on the outside. And here...here... I'm on the inside. I am part of something. I'm quickly building a reputation which is earning me a name among the best of the best PA's, the ones that are practically ADs. And I'm doing it on my own merit, without nepotism.

So why am I crying when I watch Treme and wishing I could go home? That isn't my home, New York is my home. I guess I just wish home weren't so lonely.