Chicago Love Letter

[The view from Rebar in the Trump Tower, during drinks with my friend Mark, 8/16/10.]

I haven't blogged about my time back in Chicago these last few weeks because 1) I haven't been blogging much, period; 2) I've been busy doing other things; 3) it's been kinda strange/difficult to put the last few weeks into words.

Where can I start, really? I miss this place. Lots. I've developed schemes and thought about ways to get out of my contract in December and just move back here, working as a nurse at Northwestern (which I think would be a dream job), getting a place (a lot cheaper than in DC), finding a cute dirty hipster boy (of whom there are plenty here) and settling down.

I miss my family.
I miss my friends (most of whom I didn't see as much as I wanted, or even at all).
I miss the neighborhoods.
I miss the Lake.

Wicker Park, Filter, Lakeview, Intelligentsia, Logan Square, the El, Michigan Ave., Danny's, Division, Swim Cafe, Penelope's, Untitled, Reckless Records, the Art Institute....

It was a good break. Not awesome - some things (OK, one thing in particular) could have gone better - but still good. As I drove out of the city Friday at 5:30 in the morning, heading south on the Dan Ryan with the skyline in my rearview mirror and the sun starting it's ascent into the pink sky August sky, I felt a bit battered, a bit wounded, and a bit sad. I thought about how it seems that everyone's lives were moving forward - relationships were starting, or ending, or moving forward; job promotions were made; babies were born and kids were getting older; marriages; divorces; - and my life still seemed to be on hold. I know it isn't true, but that's certainly how it feels some times.

As I started the long drive back to DC, I wish I could say that I was looking forward to this last semester of school and being back in DC, but I just couldn't muster the energy. The truth is, this last semester is going to be really tough and I'm more than a little nervous about it, considering how the previous three semesters really kicked my ass.

Coming back to Chicago was a shot in the arm - I needed to be around people who would comfort me and encourage me and help remind me that I was making good choices and that everything was going to be alright.