It’s been almost two weeks since I crash landed in Chicago. In that time I’ve furnished 90% of my new studio (nothing left but my bed and some frames for my pictures!), and unpacked nearly everything. It feels… really good, actually. The first thing I did when I got settled and found unsecured wireless in my building (thanks, Linksys!) was change all my virtual locations from Los Angeles to Chicago.
This is the first time I’ve ever lived alone (ever!), so I’m really relishing it. I can’t even tell you guys (on the internet, you know,) how good it feels to just walk down the street to my best friend’s apartment. It’s not quite the same as walking into our shared bedroom, but it’s infinitely better than a plane ride half-way across the country.
And the CTA! People laughed when I told them how much I missed the CTA. I’m an introvert, I really am, but I do love the community of public transportation. I know the train can be gross and crowded and smelly, but I felt so isolated in Los Angeles, commuting alone in my car. I had my podcasts and my audio books and my music, but it wasn’t the same. I couldn’t look across the crowded El car and watch a scruffy, kind of greasy dude wearing some sort of painter’s smock writing (in a highly-stylized manner) “I am not Rene Descartes. I am sorry for deceiving you” over and over on a page, with drawings of what I can only assume are dragons catching maidens in the margins.
I spoke with one of my LA friends this afternoon, and it reminded me that even though I do miss all of my friends, even though my life is up in the air, I have no idea what I’m going to pursue as a career and my depression is currently standing smack dab in front of my creative flow… I am infinitely happier in Chicago than I was during those last, rocky six months in California.
What can I say? I’m a winter baby. I was never cut out to live in the desert.