“The fact is I am quite happy in a movie, even a bad movie. Other people, so I have read, treasure memorable moments in their lives”
More often than not, I catch myself searching for ways to escape the “everydayness” of life. Especially being a fulltime student at USC still, who still lives at home, my schedule tends to become a vicious cycle of “school, eat, study, stress out, repeat.” In fact, one of the main reasons I decided on applying for the New Orleans Maymester was because I saw it as a way to escape the mundanity of everyday life to conquer the city that supposedly never sleeps. In many ways I would say that my mindset resembled that of Binx Bolling from Walker Percy’s The Moviegoer. Binx lives a simple life in his cookie cutter suburb, Gentilly, but soon grows restless over the idea that he must continue “the search” for the meaning of his life, or transcendent happiness. As Binx so dramatically puts it: “What is the nature of the search? you ask. Really it is very simple, at least for a fellow like me; so simple that it is easily overlooked. The search is what anyone would undertake if he were not sunk in the everydayness of his own life. This morning, for example, I felt as if I had come to myself on a strange island. And what does such a castaway do? Why, he pokes around the neighborhood and he doesn't miss a trick. To become aware of the possibility of the search is to be onto something. Not to be onto something is to be in despair.” And, in some ways, I too, was in search of something different and exciting this Maymester, that would change the pace of my normal life in Los Angeles.
Without a doubt, the licentiousness of the Big Easy gave me the fix I needed, both, of indulgence and excitement. However, when the time came for us to step back and unwind in cajun country, I had a difficult time letting go of the city I had grown to know and love so much. I entered the sleepy towns of Baton Rouge, New Roads, and Lafayette, mainly, with the intention of using my free time to finally catch up with some work. To my surprise, the quaintness of the towns and the close-knit communities within them, reminded me of something that stirred a homesickness like no other. The citizens of New Roads, in specific, lived very simple lives, it seemed, that revolved around life on the water, good food, and better company. The people were very inviting, like Sheriff Rene' Thibodeaux and Cheylon Woods, who welcomed us with open arms. The sheriff was gracious enough to introduce us to his colleagues, who were equally as enthusiastic about understanding why a group of students from the opposite end of the country would visit their humble, little town. He also made the effort to secure us a free boat ride after joining us for lunch that same afternoon.
Cheylon spoke to us with the same transparency and familiarity of an older cousin or aunt, when she took us through the Gaines’ estate, cemetery, and archive. I will always remember the way she calmed me down after I had accidentally locked the keys inside the van. After she noticed the distressed look on my face, she made a funny remark about how I must have been the oldest sibling in my family. Confused and preoccupied, I asked her, “Yes…how’d you know?” She giggled with the other girls in the car and told me that only the oldest child would beat themselves up over a silly mistake that she herself had made countless times before. These familial gestures reminded me of how much I missed my family back in Los Angeles, especially my grandmother, who always welcomes me with similar open arms and my sister, who never fails to call me crazy the way Cheylon did. Suddenly, the excitement of running back to New Orleans wasn’t on my mind anymore. I realized that I was taking for granted the nobility, duty, and culture of my own life – which were the aspects that Binx was notorious for underappreciating in his.
I think what really gave me a new perspective on my life back home, was the short time we spent in Arnaudville. Andrew had taken us to a small, unsuspecting house on a corner that was called “Tom’s Fiddle & Bow” – which, to my surprise, was a lively hotspot in this sleepy southern town. People were scurrying in and out of the house throughout the time we spent there listening to the traditional cajun music – somehow never failing to intimately know each person they bumped into. We were welcomed by everyone and were encouraged to stuff our faces while sitting back on folding chairs and futons to enjoy the live music. The confusion and informalness of it all gave me vivid memories of the chaotic family parties I have back at home. Then, an older gentleman named Jerry, took the time to sit down with me and advise me on the key to a successful life. He told me extraordinary stories of his life and many careers that he bounced between, from being a diving instructor to a pilot for the military. And at the very end of it he looked me in the eyes and told me, “If you want to know the key to happiness, it’s that you gotta just do what makes you happy.” Although it sounds redundant and possibly incomplete, what he said made perfect sense. He was telling me that he spent his entire life trying to get a big fancy job in a big fancy city but at the end of it all he would change paths because it never made him feel whole. So then he held up his camera to me and said,”Then I found this” – his love for photography.
I will always remember and cherish the wonderful memories and friendships I have been blessed to create this Maymester. It has changed me as a student, a person, and a friend – for which, I cannot thank the people I have met enough. However, in regards to the endless excitement that I, and many other college students my age crave, as Binx puts it:
Joy and sadness come by turns, I know now. Beauty and bravery make you sad and victory breaks your heart. But life goes on and on we go, spinning along the coast in a violet light. We pull into a bay and have a drink under the stars. It is not a bad thing to settle for the Little Way, not the big search for the big happiness but the sad little happiness of drinks and kisses, a good little car and a warm deep thigh.”
There is beauty in “everydayness” – beauty I love and miss dearly.
