My husband and I went on our extremely belated honeymoon in January. We went to New Orleans, which had been something we had discussed pretty soon after it became clear that our relationship was going to last the long haul. It's good that we had determined that already because the drive there was a REALLY LONG HAUL.
We chose New Orleans mainly for the music and food, and to a lesser extent its open container laws.
We enjoyed all of those things to the fullest extent possible given our time and budget, but what I came away with was a sort of confused sense of identity. Before we arrived, I had heard or read that New Orleans is the black sheep city of America. It really did seem to be a place where weirdos of all stripes congregated to do their thing. Our Garden District tour guide didn't JUST tell us about which houses had which famous people living in them, but would also get SUPER excited about the Italianate ironwork on the galleries. Both of our French Quarter tour guides billed themselves, first and foremost, as paranormal investigators, which I thought was just a job for people on TV. Vampires roamed the streets at night and drag queens roamed them by day. Guys who looked down on their luck would sit on a curb with a cell phone, a microphone and a tiny speaker and sing their hearts out for change. Just down the street, a multi-piece brass ensemble would be doing their best to drown him out. Psychics and mediums were set up everywhere waiting for someone to sit in the lawn chair across from them.
Strange though it may seem, I really felt that I was with my people.
I wrestle with that statement because I'm a pretty straight-laced person. My friends and family have always joked that trips with me involve the clipboard of fun because I've planned every detail to the last. I once suggested to a boyfriend that I might shave one side of my head and do that rockabilly undercut thing. He laughed and said I would be way too self-conscious about it to pull it off. I don't wear a lot of makeup, even for special occasions. I don't drink too much. I make lists. For everything.
I like a nice cardigan.
Maybe I just appreciated that so many people could let their inner weirdo out and feel ok about it.
I also, perhaps surprisingly, consult oracle cards every morning to help set an intention for the day. I'm not trying to see the future or call on a deceased loved one - I'm just trying to centre in on how I should approach the day. The cards keep suggesting changes coming and I'm not sure how to fit that into my daily intention box.
I'm hopeful about a few things, but if all the cards portend is that this is finally the time that I take all of my mundanities and my idiosyncrasies and realize that I can be boring and weird at the same time, then that's fine with me.
Because I do believe that I can get guidance from the ether through a set of cards I bought at Chapters.
But I also REALLY like a nice cardigan.
