Wednesday, May 27, 2009
A year ago this Monday I woke up at 6 am, shoved my screaming cat into a bag and got on a plane to Chicago. I told myself I was going just for the five months that my free housesitting situation allowed me, because five months would be enough time to get to know a new city and the people in it. Did I know on some level how entirely preposterous that theory was? Maybe it was a way to protect myself against the fears that come with jumping in with both feet, alone. Or else I was just naive and thought I'd instinctively know which direction to head on the el train (I didn't) and that a city of strangers would welcome me excitedly with open arms (they didn't). The past twelve months have brought me a job and a layoff, many new friends that I worked like a damned dog to make, and some painful separation of wheat from chaff in the life I left behind. I'm happy here. I now know that I, and anyone with an ounce of sense, should follow their instincts. I don't *love* Chicago like my bones love Brooklyn, but it still hasn't been that long really. I do like it an awful lot though. And the people in it. And I like myself far more than I did a year ago too.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
I wonder how much it cost him to eventually find an operator good enough to get the job done, as it were.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
In keeping with the choral theme, because I saw Blue Ribbon Glee Club perform last weekend: