FEMA and my financial aid

Hurricane Katrina has had a huge affect on my life. No, I did not lose my home or any of my belongings to the storm. I lived for almost a week without power, but that hardly qualifies me as being a victim of the hurricane. But according to the U.S. government I am. That's because Tuscaloosa County was declared a disaster area by FEMA. Which means, according to the U.S. Department of Education, I don't have to pay my financial aid until February 2006. I AM ECSTATIC about it... and just found out about it tonight. But, I can't help feeling a little guilty. My home, car, pets and family are fine. I still have a job to go to. I am blessed, compared to the thousands of people in Louisiana and Mississippi who have it a lot worse than I do. Katrina was a horrible disaster, but a small part of me is thankful for the things that have occured after the storm, including:

1. While covering the storm's aftermath I have met some of the most amazing people who have had to evacuate their homes because of the storm. I guess it's a little like covering a war zone or after any major disaster. I never thought I would be in such a situation where something would affect so many lives so drastically. I met people who had lost contact with their loved ones who were stuck in their attics, people who were volunteering here in Tuscaloosa despite having lost their home a second time to a hurricane, and people who were looking to startover. It has made a huge impact on my view of why I love my job. It's because I feel I can make a difference.

2. My relationship with God has strengthened. I guess every christian has a similar experience after a disaster or tragedy, but I feel like after wondering for so long what his purpose was in my life and praying for him to use me for his will, he made his work evident to me after the storm. I was supposed to meet the Strickland family for a reason. Only, I didn't know it at the time.

3. I am more thankful for the little things.

4. I've been stressing over money lately. Ok, so the FEMA deferrment only postpones my eventual loan payoff for another 4 months, but it will help me now immensely.

starbucks without a buck

If you told me at this time last year that I'd be living off of my current salary, I probably would have thought I'd hit the jackpot, at least where jobs in newspapers are concerned. But today I faced a much different picture. Standing in line at Starbucks, I had $8 in my account and knew I had to find another $40 before monday to pay a vet bill for a cat that's not even mine. I had to let Mr. Goatee buy my frappchino, knowing that he too is strapped for cash. I felt horrible.

I've never been good with money. But I don't feel like I've been superfluously spending cash either. I bought groceries on sunday and have cooked almost every meal at home since then. I've only gone out to eat three times this week, which, compared to my every-meal habits, is a good record for me. Tonight, I'm continuing the trend by cooking meatloaf and then going to the movies with a gift certificate I got for my birthday in July. But is this how life is?

And I can't help but ask myself, how did my mom do it? She doesn't even make twice what I do now and she somehow supported both my sister and I, bought us both vehicles, put us through college and even allowed us to be in $3,000-a-year sororities. If she could budget so much on so little, why can't I live modestly on my income where I don't get knots in my stomach every time a bill comes through, or have to depend on my credit card for gas?

Then, comes the question of living spaces. I'm going to have to figure something else out soon. I love the place where I live, although it's a bit pricier than what I can afford, obviously, and the rent is going up. But, can I afford anything different? Mr. Goatee mentioned living together. I've never wanted to live with a guy before I got married- call me old fashioned- but the idea of living with someone i love while saving a crapload in rent is rather appealing. It's my mother's scream of terror at the idea and the thought that I'd give my grandmother a stroke that is holding me back from going ahead. That, and the fact that I do love my white-picket fence and porch swing. I'm still an old-fashioned girl at heart.

The furniture bug

I found my dream bed yesterday. It's a beautiful sleigh bed that you can see the grains of the solid walnut. It looks like a sturdy antique- but it's not. It's just beautiful. And on sale, although it's $900 on sale. Then the gorgeous dresser is another $900, and to get two nightstands is another $900. I started to try to rationalize the purchase of this bed by the simple fact that the only piece of new furniture that I've bought myself is my couch/ottoman. My bed is the same bed I've been sleeping in since I was 15. My dining room set I got from my mom's friend's garage sale, my side table was a broken antique that I picked up off the side of the road on Queen City and put it back together and refinished it myself. I deserve new furniture. It's just a matter of affording it! my search continues!

Playing Catch up

Ok, so I've been extremely bad that past couple weeks with my blog. Things have been crazy at work with Katrina-related coverage and are just now starting to slow down. To help catch up, here's the highlights of the past 14 days of my life:

September 10: The Alabama vs. Southern Miss game. It was the first Alabama game in 6 years that I hadn't sat in the student section. I did REALLY appreciate the free tickets from a friend of mine (THANKS PATRICK M.!) but as I sat in the upper deck pearing down at the field far below, I couldn't help but miss standing on your feet the whole game, getting hit in the head by plastic cups being thrown on the field, or the overwhelming wiff of bourbon that now is synonomous to me for fall and football. I used to hate having to stand up on the stands in my cute but incredibly uncomfortable dress shoes. I used to hate feeling old as I would run into younger sorority sisters who were probably wondering what in the hell I was still doing in Tuscaloosa. But as the game was closing and I could hear the students singing "Hey Southern Miss, we just beat the hell out of you" I couldn't help but wish I was a student again.. err.. well, at least sitting in my old section. It's just not the same.

September 10: Before the football game Mr. Goatee and I did a lot of pre-gaming parties. We went to my sister's sorority house to say hello to my parents. We went to one of his friend's apartments to drink with him and his girlfriend, which was actually a lot of fun since it was the first time I we had gotten to get together and go out with another couple. Then, we went over to a tailgating party that one of my sorority sister's, Lindsay, was throwing with her husband Scott. It was fun hanging out with them again, and just before we left, Lindsay joking asked when Mr. Goatee and I were getting married. We both looked at each other and laughed. I'm not ready to get married anytime soon. I stand by that belief. But, we also couldn't hide the fact that we had stepped into Hudson Poole jewelers earlier that morning just to look. After all, a dreamer can dream, can't she? There's nothing wrong with that!

September 12-13: Nothing major happened on either of these days, in fact, I practically worked myself to death. But, what was significant for me what that Sept. 12 would have been me and Mr. 6 years' 7-year anniversary. One year ago that day, we were canoeing down the Buffalo river with some married friends. I had wanted to take a trip to Charleston or Savannah to celebrate, like we had gone to New Orleans the year before. But, money was tight, and things weren't going as well as in previous years. So, we decided to go canoeing, which I think can be quite telling as far as a relationship is concerned. First of all, it's all about communication and trust. You have to trust your partner to paddle the right way and to communicate to you where you are going so that the canoe doesn't tip over. Second of all, you are stuck in a boat for 6 hours, with no cell phone, no tv. Just the two of you, the water and wildlife. It's an opportunity to really talk about things you wouldn't otherwise have time to do... or in some circumstances, not talk at all, which can be unsettling. Anyways, by the end of the canoe trip... after a day of arguing over which way to paddle and not talking much otherwise, I had made my mind up that I needed to date other people before I could commit to Mr. 6 years. I had no idea that a year later my life, as well as his, would be so completely different. The next day, he and I broke up, only that "break" ended up being a permanent one.

September 20: For the past week, my roommate and I have been taking care of a 4-month old male kitten, who CJ named Oscar. He's the sweetest little thing, following my cocker spaniel around like she's his mother, playing with Lilly's toys and trying to befriend CJ's cat
Emma, who despises him. After more than a week of feeding the little fellow, I knew it was time to find him a good, permanent home. A woman at work said that she would take him for her son. I brought him to work that afternoon to give Oscar to her, but as she was carrying him out to her car, she was going down a spiral staircase to the main level lobby when he jumped from her arms. A cat chase insued, which ended when he first ran into a glass window and then jumped through some metal railing and down- 25 feet- onto the basement floor below. I thought he was dead, and then realized he was injured when I saw a bloody paw mark on the basement wall. A photographer at work, Dan, and I rushed him over to the vet, where we discovered that he had cut the roof of his mouth, lost a tooth and hurt his nose. But, luckily, he was alive and ok. Nothing broken. No internal injuries. He just lost one of his nine lives.

A realization and a purpose

One week ago today, I realized how blessed I truly am. Every day this week, the Lord continually reminds me of that fact. On August 31, I was assigned to do a story about what evacuees from Tuscaloosa who were staying in a local shelter. No one at the paper had really focused on the shelter yet... we were too busy cleaning up and focusing on the damage from the storm. But at the door of the university's recreation center, I was confronted by a young woman from Mississippi who was desperately searching for her parents and siblings. She was evacuating her hometown when her truck broke down on the Pascagoula bridge. She and her boyfriend decided to leave the truck behind, and their belongings in it, and hitched a ride to Alabama, where they eventually ended up at the Red Cross shelter in Tuscaloosa. She was shattered.

Another person I talked to was a woman who had gotten a call from her niece in New Orleans the day before. She was trapped in a one-story house and the waters were rising. She couldn't get out. She was calling her aunt for help. And her aunt hadn't heard from her since.

Almost everyone I talked to was the same. They had lost everything, were looking for their relatives, and were wondering what to do next. One family that I talked to, the Stricklands, were trying to figure out what to do, whether to go live with relatives in New York or stay in Tuscaloosa and get jobs until they could move back to New Orleans months from now. After gas prices went up, they decided to stay. And so, I decided to follow their journey of adjustment and new beginning.

On Saturday a story ran in the newspaper about the family, how they had left their homes in new orleans, how the grandmother Ruth had left her photo album behind because there was no room in the car. All the family had was a few outfits each, and a 5-year-old grandaughter had only brought a doll. The thing that got to me was that these are ordinary people. The daughter, Patrice, has two college degrees and worked as a math teacher and counselor for years in the New Orleans City School system. One of her brothers worked in a law office, the other, as a janitor. And yet, they were now living out of a hotel room and applying for food stamps.

I first met the Stricklands that first day at the shelter. The next time I saw them, they gave me hugs as I met them at their hotel. The third time I saw them, they day they moved into their new apartment, they gave me hugs, and some shed tears. When they game to Tuscaloosa they were crowded in their Buick LeSabre and brought few belongings. When they moved into their new apartment a little more than a week later, they had a rental van filled with donated furniture and clothing.

When my story about the family broke on Saturday morning, they had 5 or 6 people waiting in the lobby for them as they came down for breakfast. Some people gave them cash donations. Others brought them new clothes or food. One woman took Patrice and her daughter shopping for clothes, telling them to pick out whatever they wanted.

As I visited and interviewed the family once more yesterday, I started to realize that I had a purpose. Eight months ago, I cried as I drove myself to my first day at work at the newspaper. I never wanted to work in papers. But, I felt like for some reason God wanted me to work here. And now, I'm starting to realize some of the reasons why. I love my job. I get satisfaction from feeling like I make a difference. I have made some great friends at the paper and by staying in town, I've met the guy who could be the love of my life.

Most importantly, through my job, I helped someone. I could have never have bought those clothes or gotten the Stricklands all that furniture, but by reading my words, the people of Tuscaloosa were influenced to do something for them.. something I could not havce done on my own. Perhaps it was my way of helping them. More likely, it was Gods way of providing for them. As Patrice told me yesterday, as one door closes, another one opens.

I used to view my starting a job as a door closing on my previous life.. college, grad school, the 6-year-relationship. Little did I know that it would be a blessing, bringing more than I could have ever hoped for. It feels amazing to know that I too have a purpose.