FIRST PUBLIC SPEECH - IN NEW ORLEANS

Over Halloween I went to New Orleans. My desire to visit to this city stemmed from my wanting to go to Anne Rice’s The Vampire Lestat Ball, which usually takes place on Halloween, but this year did not. Instead I got to New Orleans a few days after the ball and decided to find different ways to get the Anne Rice experience, so I messaged her assistant Beckett on Facebook. After noticing how often he posted about Anne on her own Facebook page I checked his page out and thought he was nice, smart, and kind of cute. Beckett is also a writer and a previous monk. The first time I messaged him I did not expect a response but he responded to me the same day. I asked him about how he became Anne’s assistant and about his new collaborative book with her. He told me that they met when she went into his monastery. They became friends. Then he asked her for a job and she said yes.

That’s how easy it is to get a job with your favorite book author who you think is an untouchable statue at the Uffizzi Gallery.

So this is what I said when I got there.

ME:

Hi Becket! I'm in Anne Rice Country (New Orleans) for the first time. I've always wanted to visit and have finally made it. Do you recommend any places? Ever since reading Interview with the Vampire I have been fascinated with the area and wanted to know, based off that, what you'd recommend. I wish I could have made the Vampire Lestat Ball and hope it was fun. Obviously it would be amazing if you would like to grab coffee or something but if you're busy, I'd understand. I will be here for Halloween and until Saturday. Anyway, I hope all is well!











            
10/29, 7:32pm


Becket
Hi Bianca! For eating I recommend a ACME Oyster House. For sightseeing a drive up St. Charles Ave in the Garden District to see the houses and/or visit St. Louis Cemetery #1. Also have beignets at Cafe DuMonde

Getting coffee with you would be wonderful; but Anne and I have gone on to the next city: we're in Dallas today, about to go to Anne's book signing.

Hopefully next time!

I was also trying to get Becket to go on a date with me but it didn’t work out. I didn’t even know if he liked women. So I continued on my journey. My two friends that were with me, one of whom is also a big Anne Rice fan, were shocked that he responded so quickly. I was excited that we got our itinerary from this guy. He wouldn’t steer us wrong.

During our first day in NOLA I tried to avoid tarot readers at any cost in an attempt to save money and enjoy the moment. There were many, smiling at me and luring me in while we walked past Pirates Alley, but I turned my head and continued on.

The city was so beautiful, just like my imagination had anticipated, and one of the first things I noticed was Elysian Fields, an Avenue in NOLA that was written into Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire.

I took a picture and tried to send it to my 11^th grade English teacher who first introduced me to this play, which later turned into an obsession with Blanche. While reading it in the 11^th grade he had the class do scenes from the play and I read the monologue, “I took the blows in my face and my body.”        

We had a love/hate relationship since the time he told the class to write an essay about how Reisa and I were distractions and he put an orange peel on the board saying “This is Bianca’s brain fried under the sun.” But we stayed friends after that. I forgave him and he forgave me for drinking beer during class.

After getting home from NOLA I found my teachers email and sent him a picture of Elysian Fields. He said that I made his day and that he once lived there as a hobo on the street corner until someone gave him a place to live.

During my first ghost tour I thought, this city is too decadent for me. People had done some weird, gruesome stuff. Maybe I didn’t want to move there. But still, I had always had a fascination with ghosts.

As the days went by I went to St. Louis museum, the same one from the film Double Jeopardy. Another reason why I wanted to visit NOLA. Art makes things come alive inside you that you want to experience for yourself, first hand. While there I took pictures of ?frogs? following me. At night I went into the city with a medieval gown and fake blood on my face. I was Gabrielle De Lenfant, Lestats mom who he was also in love with. All of my dreams were coming true, seriously. I had never felt so at home before. When could I move? It was decided.

Earlierthat day the fun happened, my friends and I went to the Voodoo Museum. I avoided getting to close to anything and was confused about the photos of Jesus and status of Mary sitting next to pictures of these famous Voodoo people. I’m a catholic and you only pray to Jesus. My friend gave an offering to manifest a wish but I did not because I didn’t want to go against my religion, that day.

After exiting the man at the front desk who was old, grey and spooky asked if I wanted my friend to take a picture of me in front of a big painting of Mary Laveau, a famous Voodoo Queen. I kind of did. How did he know? I asked if this man was a psychic and he said that he was and he “read every person that walked in the place.”

“I knew it,” I said.

He then told me to come the next day for a blessing ritual where I would have to wear a python around my body. I said I was scared of snakes. He looked at me straight in the eye. Almost looking into my soul he said, “Woman up.”

“Woman up?” I asked.

“Yes. Woman up.” His serious expression did not change. It was a do or die.

Then I asked if it would bite me.

“Well are you a good girl or a bad girl?” he asked.

You’re the psychic. You tell me, I thought. “Sometimes I’m good and sometimes I’m not like everyone else,” I said.

He loosened up. “I think you’ll be fine.”

I was a little bit of a scaredy cat, so I decided, yeah, maybe I should wear the snake.

We talked some more and I wanted to come back the next day for the blessing. This man was my new best friend and favorite person in NOLA. He was a famous Voodoo Priest that had been on The Discovery Channel, I think.

The next day I went to Anne Rice’s house in the Garden District after taking the Street Car up. More of my dreams were coming true. I wanted to sneak inside but there were cameras.

When it was time to go back to the Voodoo Priest we were late. The ritual had begun and finished and I hadn’t made it, along with two other British girls who were very upset.

To be honest, I was glad I didn’t have to wear the python. A woman came out in tears thanking the priest for what he had done for her. It was touching.

After going inside I saw one of his lady friends wearing the python. I was petrified but hid it. The priest then gave me a free candle. It was red with his picture on it. He said, “This is for organization and creativity. Light it during dusk with an intention and don’t blow it out or you will blow away the wish. Snuff it out.”

How did he know I was a creative person that was not organized? “Amazing. I need this,” I said.

He gave my friend’s boyfriend a candle for figuring out what to do in life and I will admit the kid is having some problems with that. Then, he gave one of the other girls a candle for protection and getting rid of hexes. I felt bad for her.

That night I worse a scarecrow outfit that one best costume at the bar. I won a 100 dollar bar tab but didn’t want to drink anymore so bought everyone at the bar a shot, but before, I wanted to give a speech. I spoke about hurricane Sandy and overcoming obstacles. I caught myself in the middle because they had Katrina and I felt very badly about this.

But anyway, everyone clapped and the woman said she wanted to cry and people thought I had written it beforehand but it all came to me naturally because I had always wanted to be a public speaker. So there it was, winning the costume contest led me to my first public speech, one of my biggest dreams. It was one of the best days of my life, Halloween of 2013 in New Orleans. I made many new friends. It was inspiring. The next day I was too tired to function.

The next day it was time to go but I was sad. My life was better in New Orleans after only three days. Why was I leaving?

After getting home I lit my candle and wrote. I don’t know if it helped me with my creativity or organization, but the intention cannot hurt. 

LINK TO VIDEO OF PUBLIC SPEECH BELOW 

http://vimeo.com/82504775

CHECK LINKS BELOW FOR STEP BY STEP PHOTO DOCUMENTATION OF EVENTS, INCLUDING MYSTERIOUS CREATURE FOLLOWING ME IN ST. LOUIS CEMETERY AND PICTURE OF MARY MOTHER OF GOD IN VOODOO MUSEUM.

http://whitebebe.tumblr.com

Coupon Nation

            While going about my business in the bathroom this afternoon, I heard nonna give out a scream/gasp from the kitchen. Being that nonna is rather stoic, I found this to be fairly unusual, so I went to see what all the fuss was about. When I found her she was staring intently at a piece of paper. My immediate assumption was that we had won the lottery (don't ask). It was something nonno and I often talked about, this winning the lottery thing. The chances were slim but if we were lucky enough we could win a good chunk of change and buy the Bentley we always dreamed of. I could even hire a driver and afford to have children before 30. Life would be great, so I asked her. 

         "Did we win the lottery?"

         I was serious. Because the way she expressed confusion and surprise in those moments led me to believe that something big happened. But instead of responding to my question she said,

         "2.99 for cauliflower?"

         It was a receipt. She was looking at a damn Waldbaums receipt, of course she was. That’s what they all did at my house. It’s a tradition for nonna and her sisters to gather at my house once a week, sit at the kitchen table, and have a serious meeting about the sales at the local supermarkets. During these meetings they also decide who is going to buy what at which supermarket, and who is going to pay whom back.  

         “I will buy the fish at Waldbaums and you will buy the strawberries at Associated,” is how it usually goes. This makes it easy for my family to get food on the table as quickly as possible. No one has to make trips to multiple supermarkets. And people wonder how us immigrants manage to get by so well. It’s not how much you make, it’s how much you save. Why do you think I still drive around in a used car with scratches along the side? Not for long.

         It’s simply the way things work in an Italian household where people grew up eating bread with olive oil for dinner. Your great uncle freezes his ass off while fishing on the Crossbay Bridge and while that is happening someone else is hunting bears and deer in the country. How else would we be able to feast like animals on Sundays? It’s almost like we’re running a commune over here. We gather together and share all of our resources. It is how we have managed to survive so well all of these generations. The aunt watches the niece while the grandma is working the night shift at the airport and once the grandma makes enough money she sends some to the family in Italy. 

         This may sound sweet to you but it isn't always easy. There is a lot of fighting involved. Well, I don't know if it is exactly fighting. Italians speak so loud it's difficult to tell the difference. I don't even know why they argue to be honest. It always comes out of nowhere. One remark from one sister and the other is flying off the handle. It could be as simple as this. 

         "Your daughter didn't give me a kiss on the cheek when she saw me."

         "Ahhh, are you saying my daughter has no respect? Are you saying I didn't raise her right? Your daughter didn't lift a finger after dinner last Sunday."

         "You are both crazy, you and your daughter."

         "Did you drink today?"

           Maybe I'm exaggerating but it is all pretty random if you ask me. Anyway, I'm done here. I'm going to hide the new overpriced straightening/curling iron I bought today before nonna finds it and complains that I spend money on nonsense. Which all of us young Americans do, right?

Arrivaderci!

xox Bianca 

THE WAYS IN WHICH NONNA TRICKS MY FRIENDS INTO EATING DEER AND LAMB.

       Sundays are either extremely comical or extremely boring in my home. Depends on who is over and what type of meat nonna chooses to cook. This Sunday was more on the comical side. A childhood friend of mine named Kathy came over just in time for lunch. Lunch meaning, eggplant, chicken cutlet, lamb, filette, pasta with tomato sauce, pasta with meat sauce and steamed vegetables. A lot of food for four people right?

       “If I don’t cook it all now, it will go to waste,” nonna said. “Do you want tomato sauce or meat sauce in your pasta?”

      “Depends on what kind of meat it is,” Kathy replied. 

      “Lamb."
        Kathy’s eyes shot open in bewilderment. As if people don't eat lamb all of the time. 

       “Lamb? No thank you. I don’t eat lamb.”

       “Neither does your sister but when I fed her deer last week she had no idea,” nonna replied.

       “You fed my sister deer?”

         Good thing I wasn’t home for that.

       “Funny right? She didn't know until the next day when I called to ask if she liked the meat.”

         I could tell that Kathy was having second thoughts about eating lunch at my house. I myself was having second thoughts about eating at my house.

       “Guess what my friends down the block are eating today?” Nonna added. Her butcher friend who lives down the block? I could only imagine.
       “Bear.”

         For some reason, the idea of eating a beautiful and holy animal like a lamb seemed less absurd than eating a bear. Probably because bears are scary. We decided on the steamed vegetables after that and went on our way. The next morning Kathy’s older sister called my grandmother and this is what I heard from my side.

       “Kathy went home hungry last night? She said she didn’t eat? Well of course she was hungry, she wouldn’t eat the meat! I even told her to bring some to your house and she said no. She said you put leftovers in the garbage. How could you throw out food?”

         I couldn’t believe they were talking about this just as I was in the middle of writing about them. Magic.

       “Anyway, I fed you deer. Big deal. I don’t make bad food. Whatever we make here is good. Some people eat liver too, depends on the way you make it. You can cook it with onion and vinegar. It tastes good.” That’s when the details behind the bear story were revealed.
      “That’s just liver. People eat bear in my neighborhood. They clean the bear up and make chopped meat, steak and sauce.” There was a moment of silence.

       “I saw the bear! No one told me about it! Yes, it was a 350-pound bear. I SWEAR ASK NONNO. They went upstate, killed the bear and brought it home to Queens.”
         I wanted to go upstate with these people. After that conversation Nonna and I began one of our own.

      “Do you like deer Bianca?” she asked.
       What was she implying?

      “No.”

      “Have you ever tried it?”

      “No.”

       She began laughing. Uncontrollable laughter.

      “Yes you have. Many times.”

     
       Sorry animal lovers. I am one of those. 

Cuddling In Science

Cuddling, we've all done it and if you proclaim that you haven’t, well then you’re just a liar. Recently, I have taken on quite the fascination with this social experience. Why do we hug one another when we're sleeping, for hours at a time? We definitely don’t hug one another that much when we're awake. A further question is; why do some enjoy this experience more than others? So I asked a few men and women their views on the subject.

“I don’t cuddle,” says Lisa Roberts, a 23-year-old dance teacher from Long Island, NY. “If I have to I will be the big spoon. This way I can throw one arm over the person to give the effect as if I was cuddling, but really, I’m not.” In cuddling culture, the “big spoon” is the individual who hugs the person from the outside, while the “little spoon” is the individual being hugged. This is usually a butt to stomach position. Others cuddle facing one another, but this position makes it more difficult to breathe, therefore it is less popular. Maybe some also cuddle in 69 position, but I wouldn’t know. I later asked whether or not Lisa’s previous partners were “cuddlers.” They weren't. Is lack of interest in cuddling a coincidence? I don’t think so.

  “Cuddling is more important than sex,” confessed a friend of mine recently who doesn’t wish to disclose his information due to fear of embarrassment. “If my girlfriend and I don’t have sex for a month, I don’t give it much thought. But if a night goes by where there’s lack of cuddling… I’m not having it.” Cuddling more important than sex? It is nice to know there are people out there who believe that, however strange they may be.

Through my recent research I have found that 78 percent of men and women find cuddling to be very important in a relationship. As for the other 22 percent, well the thought of someone touching them while asleep is unnerving.

One of my girl friends used to punch men in her sleep. Literally, if they even dared to put their hand on her shoulder in the middle of the night they were being punched full force. Maybe people should ask for permission to do these things, rather than going ahead and doing them.

Over the weekend I went on vacation with Lisa, the girl that I mentioned above. She is a childhood friend and our relationship is plutonic. Embarrassingly enough, one night while on vacation I threw my arm around her and went in for a cuddle. I think I forgot who I was laying next to… oops. Afraid to offend me or interrupt my sleep, she did not object. Instead she made fun of me for the remainder of the weekend. This is how some respond to the experience. Luckily, I wasn’t punched.

             

IT ISN'T A STORY IT'S A SENTIMENT

I realize that it has been quite some time since I’ve written a blog post. Well about a few weeks but nonetheless, it feels like a long time. It is difficult being sarcastic when you’re not feeling particularly cynical or down with life. Right now I am sitting on my couch, thinking of how to gather the sardonic energy to allow me to write something interesting for you. Because when I’m not doing this, I am writing things I would be forced to publish under a different name, or things repressed housewives would spend their hours reading while their husbands are at work and stuffing it under the mattress as soon as their kids get home from school.

So I am sitting here, wishing I could talk about things that I just can’t find the words for, or at least, not for you. 

CHEATING THROUGH DATING WEBSITES, THE NEW PHENOMENON?

Not too long ago, a dear friend of mine came to me with some questionable news “As we speak, my boyfriend is out to coffee with a girl he met through Ok Cupid," she said. This information left me without words. So I asked if they were in an open relationship and she said "No."

Then they are in a monogamous relationship? Ok.

“But I don't understand,” she said. "He has been texting me the entire time."

Ok… so he is texting his girlfriend about his date with another girl… What?

Not even my social science degree could help me interpret this one.

I was feeling extraordinarily forgiving that day, so I gave her some comforting but very unrealistic advice. “Let’s look on the bright side,” I said. “He told you about the date, so maybe he just wants to make a new friend. He's a small town boy in a big scary city, we should cut him some slack.”


WRONG.

I think she felt better for point five seconds. That is, until she used her rational mind to understand that this was all very bizarre behavior. I don’t know why people come to me for relationship advice anyway. The fantasy world residing in my head doesn’t allow for much rational thought.

After analyzing the situation from a normal person’s perspective, I came to the conclusion that meeting someone you were introduced to on dating website, telling your partner about it, and later texting them every 5 minutes while on the date IS RUDE.  

With every text message he was saying, “Hey I am on a date with another girl right now, even though we woke up together this morning. But I will see you tonight ok?” The constant reminder being her cellphone ring. 


Honey, affirmation from other women isn’t going to make you any more secure.

Now these two… they were a happy couple. What a shame. 

I am no expert but from what I’ve gathered, people usually try and AVOID cheating when in a relationship. Hopping on a dating website to make new friends is asking for trouble. Plus, you are paying to cheat. And this is somehow different from hiring a prostitute? 

 More than that, all of your information is open to everyone on the internet meaning, your partner is probably going to see it.

We all graduated from High School right? I thought we had grown smarter since then. 

Now this whole dating and hook up website thing is out of control. I heard of a couple the other day that met on ihookup.com. What a great idea. I was told ihookup.com was for random hookups. So last week, you were both on a website looking for animalistic and group sex, but now you’ve found the one? How romantic.


Well at least you have something in common. 


Now this couple, they prided themselves on being adventurous. Oh the adrenaline rush, not knowing who is going to walk into the door and what problems they are going to bring with them. 


And we are still on gay marriage? Let's keep up with the times America. There is a lot more going on here. 

Searching For Significant Other

No luck finding a personal assistant, so I am just going try and find a significant other that I don’t have to pay to do things for me.

Now if this whole thing is going to involve actually wanting to spend time with the person, I am going to have to be really selective with what I ask for. Let’s start with what I don’t want.

Cheap. If you are cheap you are unattractive. No one likes someone who is too cheap to go to the movies, or too cheap to refrain from the impulse of asking for those two dollars back. I mean, who does that? People who never want to get laid.

If male, I don’t want you to be less than 6 foot… that is unless you have beautiful features. Face over height. 

Next, I don’t want a Virgo or Cancer. I am sorry but you bore me. I would say I don’t want a Gemini because they are bipolar... but that would exclude Shane West and I may still be in love with him. Even if I saw him with another woman, and cry over it every night while admiring his photograph on my dresser.

Next, I don’t want a serial cheater. “It isn’t cheating unless you’re married” doesn’t fly with me. You know who you are. 

I also don’t want someone who is “confused.” You’re not confused you’re bisexual. Own it.

As for what I do want. I want a lot of things.

Lets start with my preferred zodiac signs. I love Scorpios. If you are a Scorpio I will give you special consideration. Next comes Capricorn and Aquarius. You aren't afraid of emotion and I like that. 

Speaking of emotions. If you have none, you freak me out. Men who claim they haven't cried in years are men to run from fast. We need to practice cardio to have the endurance to run even faster. 

Dancing skills are also a plus. I have loads of energy and you will have to keep up with me. If you are lazy stop reading now.

If you are shy I might find you intriguing and mysterious at first and try to get under your skin, but that will soon turn into annoyance. You annoy me. 

Brown hair, brown eyes and a button nose are also a plus. People with light eyes get too much credit and I am bitter about it. I also want my children to look like me. Exactly like me. 

I want a freak in the streets and a freak in the ...... I’m just being honest.

If Harry Potter and The Craft were two of your favorite movies growing up then we might have something to talk about. 

Did I just describe myself?