225BatonRouge.com - Blogs

My name is Amy and I'm from Baton Rouge. I was born at Woman's Hospital; I celebrated birthdays at Leo's Rollerland; and I refer to the Mall of Louisiana as the new mall. In high school, I went to parties on the levee, heard Better Than Ezra play at the Baton Rouge Cotillion Holly Ball and went with my mom to New Orleans to shop for prom dresses. I am so Baton Rouge. And like every other Baton Rougean, I dreamed of the day when I would graduate from LSU and find another place, preferably out of state, to call home. And that's just what I did.

Two and a half years later, I find myself back in BR, not knowing what the heck I'm doing with my life and living again with mom and dad while I figure things out.

When I was out of state, I would return for an occasional visit and find myself in disbelief of the progress in the capital city: What are these concrete slabs with pelicans on them around the interstate? Or they're tearing down Coffee Call to build a new Wal-Mart? Or Since when did we have an Olive Garden? And since I've moved back, we have a Whole Foods? We have a PF Changs? We have an Ann Taylor Loft? (This, of course, is said all in one breath since they share a parking lot).

I moved home just a few weeks before The Hurricane (a new classic BRism), and like so many New Orleans natives in the weeks following, I spent my days hanging out in coffee shops, dreaming up plan B. When the media birthed the phrase displaced persons, I decided to adopt it for myself. Old acquaintances I'd bump into would ask me what I've been up to; I'd tell them I was displaced. "Oh, have you been working in New Orleans?" they'd ask. 'No, no, I'm just displaced in life. I'm here but I don't really know what I'm doing.' They'd nod politely and say it was OK. They always talked about someone else they knew that was going through the same thing. It'll work out. It was awkward.

But now it's been a few more months, I have a job, and I'm still living with my mom and dad. (But I really just consider them as roommates I'm related to now.) And I find myself relishing all the new establishments in town, and rediscovering all the jewels I had forgotten to miss when I was away. And after six months, it has occurred to me: Baton Rouge isn't boring; it hasn't gotten old. I think I like it here!

Recently, a high school friend of mine was home visiting and I asked her to meet me at Carrabbas. "We have a Carrabbas now?" she asked. "Of course," I replied. " I go there all the time."