Chicago Love

This is a letter I just wrote to my dear friend Molly. I thought I would share it with you. Enjoy!

"Aw, sad news, Mol! I can't make camp this year due to the new job. :(

I'm going to miss seeing folks like you that I love with all my heart but there is no cell in my body that has any desire to return to Vermont right now. It's weird but I think I OD'ed on Vermont and now have not a fledgling desire to return. The good news is that all that rural living made me endlessly greedy and grateful for the city life.

Every day I experience something new in Chicago: a new street to wander down, a new stranger to talk to, a new hole in the wall to eat at. I am so so SO happy with my life here. I have my bad days, sure, but I love my Spanish speaking-teacher coaching-numbers crunching-kindergarten/1st grader helping-job, I love my heavy/death metal, horror movie loving, skateboarding bro-dude roommates and our tidy slum in the wonderful neighborhood of Logan Square. I love the latino neighborhood kids that run up to me every day after work and ask about my day in Spanish. I love my gym where I dance to Salsa Bootcamp, Hip Hop dance classes and Zumba and I am not remarkably weird/sexy/different at all. I LOVE seeing all these beautiful men of every size, flavor and color every day. I love sitting in front of the Casal windows at the Art Institute and being moved to tears by such beauty. I love that I saw Gillian Welch perform last month and next month I'll see Mano Chau. I love that I'm treating myself to a trip to the aquarium on Saturday. I love riding the "El" to work downtown and reading all the way there and back. I love going up to the ninth story of the beautiful downtown library with an indoor "Winter Garden". I love going to that same library and playing piano after work in their practice rooms between the opera singer and the girl who can play the Amelie soundtrack perfectly. I love going to the lake and swimming at the super gay beach, playing bocci ball while techno music blares. I love that I can eat Ethiopian food whenever I want to. And that some days I might just need to speak all three of the languages I know to get what I want. I love that I met an amazing Australian woman and a so sweet woman from the Ivory Coast in less than one week and I have plans to hang out with both of them soon.

I love the chaos, the stink, the noise of the city. It feels like opportunities are ready to burst out of the seams of such constant change and I welcome them all ravenously.

Vermont taught me how to be quiet, how to rejuvenate in silence, and how to enjoy bars. I use all these skills to keep me balanced. :) Whew! These are some sexy, energetic times, love."

Rule #1: Be Happy

An old boyfriend once asked me if I had any rules. I said that I didn't think so and then I remembered that I have two: #1) To be happy and #2) To be a good person or at least try not to be an asshole.

Sometimes I get confused with what it means for me to be happy. Sometimes I think it means to be perfect. Some examples of the imperfections I've been struggling with lately are wanting a new pair of black mary jane style shoes for work, wanting a few light shrug/open sweaters to wear with sleeveless dress and then expand my professional wardrobe, that I need to get my tattoo removed from my underarm to no longer have to cover it up in professional circumstances.

As I trudged to the car, cranky from the heat, to perhaps fruitlessly drive to Champaign-Urbana from Oakley to buy shoes and clothes, I was hit with a realization:

I keep doing things in hopes of feeling less stress, of feeling okay and it's definitely not working. The list of things I need to buy or do to feel perfect and, thus ok, will never ever end. So if I want to be happy something needs to shift inside of me, some energy change or focus. My outside experience reflects my inner experience and I need to get my cells along a common goal of vibrant awesomeness, not just hoping my outer experience unrealistically perfects itself.

Alright, inner world, let's get juicy.