Friday, June 26, 2009

so you're on, but you're not on

It feels really good to be blogging again. I know I'm studying writing, but I forget how satisfying it is to write something just for fun, just for friends, just to write. What follows is a collection of random bits and pieces from my so-called life, not starring claire danes.

I wrote a birthday card this week that made me realize I have developed "my Chicago" in my head. My Chicago is spring/fall when it's green or turning to autumn and suddenly you can't help but be acutely aware that you're alive. My Chicago involves lazy walks down Michigan Ave, stopping at Borders and the Disney Store (for Abby and Jesse), window shopping, finding new stones at the Tribune building to be impressed by, staring into the curved reflective surface of the Cloud Gate (aka the Bean), watching kids wait to be hit by the Crown Fountains, and finally arriving at the Art Institute, where I could die happy. It also includes rides on the Red Line, when you time your connections perfectly; shopping at the Devon Market; Friday nights at Nevins; etc. I'm not having such an awful time here after all.

Now that I've said how much I love Chicago, I'll add that I love the city, I love my program, I love the friends that I've made here. I do not love not having a job. After six months working in a temp position with the possibility of full time employment, I maxed out my hours and am now unemployed. I enjoyed the first few days of unwinding--I didn't realize how burnt out I was after running the Winter-Spring quarters gauntlet. But now I am bored. I have been applying to every job that seems like even a remote possibility. And there was one job that seemed very possible, but it turns out it was another dead end. I have the money to survive a little while longer in Chicago, but I can't justify another year of debt and no certain income. I'm giving myself to the end of the summer, and then I'm seriously considering leaving the program, Chicago, etc, to couch surf in Utah.

Well, that wasn't happy. This is. It's currently the wallpaper on my desktop, and even though there isn't really a "you" right now, it's the possibility of feeling this way that makes me smile. Actually, what it does is make me want to write a novel, the silly cheesy summer reading kind that I so desperately need right now. Maybe a rom-com that would later be made into a movie no man will watch. Claire Danes could star in that.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

a story of two sweaters

Hell isn't a sauna. Chicago is. My lovely Chicago spring has turned into sweltering sweaty heat. I never feel dry. I do, however, feel damp, sticky, frizzy, etc. Who in their right mind lives here?

No, I am not in my right mind. Never have been, never will be. And now: the story.

Last Friday I woke up to rain. Rain and cold-ish-ness. I got myself showered and dressed (an admirable accomplishment, I thought) and out the door to have lunch with an MFA friend. We were meeting about a 10 minute walk from my apartment, so I braved the rain wearing a long-sleeved sweater, pashmina, light jacket, and shoes with enough heel to help me avoid completely soaking my pant legs.

Lunch was a success--damp, but a success. The dampness was acceptable, since it was pouring all sorts of beasts (really what it was pouring was tree limbs, etc.). I then missed my bus, waited 40 minutes for the next one (delays due to flooding and tree limbs), and eventually arrived in Evanston for a stop-over at the library. All this time wearing a now-very-damp long-sleeved sweater.

When I left the library two hours later, the sun had come out, full force. The rain had stolen my spring and left the beginning of summer-hell in its place. And I was wearing a long-sleeved sweater. If I had just planned on going home, I would have braved the heat and the sweater, but I wasn't going home. I was meeting Sarah & co. at Nevins for drinks (just Diet Coke for me, I promise) and dinner. It's one of my favorite parts of the week, if not my favorite and I wasn't going to miss it, even though I was a sodden sweaty frizzy mess.

So on my way to the bar, I stopped at the Gap. Grabbed everything my size on the sale rack, tried everything on, and found a short sleeved sweater that I thought could work (I actually quite like it). Did I mention I was wearing a cami? I was wearing a cami. I paid for the short-sleeved sweater, ran across the street to CVS to buy a comb and some cheap headbands, and then ran across the street again to Barnes & Noble to change (you can always count on B&N and Borders to have a bathroom). I smoothed myself out, put on the sweater, put up my hair, and headed back out into the heat for my weekly round of Diet Coke.

The end.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

this living

I've been processing this thought for a few days now. And it could start a onslaught of comments, so I'm beginning with this caveat: I know that I am single, that I don't know what a real relationship is, etc. But I also know that I'm in a different place in my life, and this realization is important enough that I am returning to my blogging.

A month ago I got a letter from a friend in my home ward. She's a lawyer with a sweet husband and three cute/crazy boys. But she met her husband and got married later in life. Not crazy late, we're going to spend our retirement together, but later--post degrees, etc. Which means she understands, to some degree, where I'm at in my life. It's nice to have that. It's brought up some new ways of thinking about my life and my current situation.

On Sunday, another friend was in Chicago. We had a few hours to hang out, walk up and down Michigan Ave, and did I mention that it was that guy I've had the world's longest crush on? I realized as we were talking that I've had a lot of frustration and anger, etc, directed not just at this guy, but at all single men, really. And I thought it was just the stereotypical bitter/cynical single girl in me. But I've felt that way for a long time--threatened by men, angry with them.

I read the letter again on my way home from meeting Michael. She wrote about all the things she was able to do before getting married and starting a family, so now she doesn't mind spending her time watching kids movies, etc. And I realized that I'm not frustrated or angry with men, but with me. Because I knew that when I found the right man, I would have felt the need to give everything up for that relationship.

I know I don't have to do that. But part of it is because I have this time to live my life. To get my education, to live in Chicago, to travel, etc. And, realizing all this, I feel like I can let go of that resentment and anger and everything.

Monday, June 22, 2009

you deserve a molotov cocktail.

Happy Birthday, Miss K.

I heart you.

Saturday, June 06, 2009

I've been

internetless as of late. I'm working to remedy the situation (I'm in a nice little restaurant right now), but I'll be back as soon as I can.

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