“Joy and sadness come by turns, I know now”

— Walker Percy

This is a thought I kept coming back to in The Moviegoer as Binx Bolling tries to understand his place in the universe.

Can joy and sadness be mutually exclusive?

The past few weeks have been exciting and thrilling but tiring. I look back on everything with a smile, but the thought of having one week to finish two books, write two blogs, and a paper has me on edge. I just want to sleep.

Struggling to decide what to write about, on a walk into the French Quarter, we pass a narrow building with a sign hanging overhead, ‘The Art of Dr. Seuss.’ Megan, shoutout Meg, turns around and proceeds to ask what our favorite Dr. Seuss book was as a kid...

Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

This childhood book, which I had forgotten about, teaches kids to persevere, that setbacks are a part of life. Maybe it is just a ‘sadness’ before the joy. The book ends on a high, the joy of the possibility of discovery. Maybe Binx was right.

So far on this trip, I have had the opportunity to explore some amazing places that I never would have had the opportunity to go to before.

Wednesday:

My quest for cowboy boots. Since arriving in Louisiana, a goal of mine has been to secure some boots. I have spent countless hours searching for some in vintage stores along Magazine Street and boutiques in the French Quarter, but somehow, no luck. My desire to have some boots was only further inspired by Emily’s. So, Wednesday morning, I drag Emily with me (thanks and sorry again) to Gretna, Louisiana. While nothing literary has probably been written about Gretna, I found charm—or should I say boots. It is a small town south of the river, and it seemed like we were some of the first tourists they’d seen. My mission: Cavender’s, a western store home of all things cowboy. The store, almost like a warehouse, was vast and had an overwhelming smell of leather. After trying on almost every pair of boots there, taking pictures at each turn as Emily sat patiently, I finally decided on a pair, which I haven’t taken off since I got them.

That afternoon saw my friends and me exploring the Quarter, finding interesting and peculiar shops down small alleyways, as well as visiting Faulkner Bookshop. The day left me feeling accomplished and happy with an overarching feeling of joy.

Thursday:

View from the museum, the emptiest I have ever seen this place

Was overshadowed by thunderstorms. This lightning and rain provided constant background music during our trip to Café Du Monde and the Presbytère. The storm had me wanting to rush indoors, with fear of my new boots getting wet. The rain here is warmer than I am used to, and while I often find myself caught in the rain back home, this is my first time really experiencing thunderstorms, which I have come to realize elicit fear in me.

The Louisiana State Museum has two floors. The first detailed the events of Katrina, the destruction and harm that had been caused to the city, and the loss that is still felt by all in New Orleans. The floor had a prominent solemn feeling. The top floor, however, provided a complete contrast with information on Mardi Gras, showing the costumes, colors, and vibrancy that the festival brings—joy. While the two themes of the museum seemingly have nothing in common, holding vastly different emotions attached, they are both extremely important to New Orleans.

Friday:

The storms continued, and while I spent most of the day in the hotel room working, I observed a couple fighting outside. It made me think of A Streetcar Named Desire, the film I watched the night before. While I didn’t hear Stella being yelled, there was a definite cause of the over-dramatics. The continued rain makes me think if it is linked to emotion. Most people dread the rain; people are less happy and less likely to go outside. Maybe it is a prelude to sadness.

That evening, on a search for dinner in the French Quarter, we end up in a small courtyard protected from the rain. However, the live music from the streets and the inside part of the restaurant is bouncing off the walls, so, unable to have a conversation, we sit in silence. I thought the night was doomed. We spend the latter half of the night going to the Apothecary for drinks. The charm of this place is phenomenal, and with undertones of vampires, the atmosphere allows for a relaxing evening amongst friends. We proceeded to laugh and take hundreds of pictures of our drinks with flowers in them. The waiter even invited us to a secret speakeasy, which I look forward to attending. Since the change in mood, we then return to play another game of pool at The Garage, a place we keep returning to. While I didn’t see victory in the game, I enjoyed the impromptu dance breaks between moves.

While I found times of joy and sadness, separate moments of these days had overlap. I look back on the fun felt while out with my friends in thunderstorms on a Friday night.

Nothing I did in these days was searching for 'the big happiness'. In truth, it was fairly common: returning to places I’ve been before, hanging out and laughing with my friends—behaviors which have become repetitive—yet there was still fun to be had.

“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”

— Walker Percy

I am content with the ‘sad little happiness,’ and while I find joy in the ‘Little Way,’ for me it is not ‘settling.’ The places I’ve been this week have made me see glimpses of joy in moments of sadness. The community coming together to rescue strangers during Katrina, and people still playing and performing live music with just as much spirit as when there’s not a thunderstorm.