I finally took the plunge. I finally mustered the guts to move to Chicago and make an attempt at my "dream". Cheesy and cliche. Bear with me. For some odd reason I was compelled to leave a fabulous scholarship, a very respectable school and a promising future all for an improvisational comedy troupe. I had all the confidence in the world in my decision. It was instinctive, it felt right and I was willing to work. I was more than willing to get down and dirty to make second city happen. I flew into O'Hare, hopped on the train, and was suddenly overwhelmed by the city. Its amazing how a place so alive and so overflowing can make you feel so small and insignificant. So here I am. Adjusting to public transportation and slowly getting use to the fact that somehow everything smells like urine no matter where you are. Adjusting to screaming and screeching, sirens and honking and the homeless shoving their dirty hands into your pockets. Getting use to washing my hands every 15 seconds out of fear that I might have picked up ebola on the train. Keeping personal belongings close and money even closer for fear that every passing person might swoop in and claim it as their own. Finding my own rythm on my own. My rythm of interaction with strangers and my rhtym of confidence to say no to sollicitations and window shopping. Adjusting to the inadequate feeling of the gold coast. Straining my neck to catch glimpses of fabulous apartments that I know I will never own. Bumping into botox beauties and men in suits that cost as much as my college education. Why is a single bus ride 2 dollars? Why do I see the same elderly gentlemen walking behind me every morning? How come I am fearful to carry a purse, even in daylight?
I still need to buy an umbrella. God forbid I get caught in the rain.
Why is the woman at the Lincoln park library a raging bitch?
Why is my only proof of chicago identification a library card?
Im here.
I like it
and I will soon love it

Blue line

One of Omahas best kept secrets for coffee lovers of all kind is the Blue line. This train themed coffee hot spot located right on the corner of good 'ole Dundee, is my clubhouse if you will. It is my retreat, my own personal coffee fort, where I always go on the weekends to order a hazelnut latte and read, or write. The appeal is rooted much deeper than just delicious coffee. The Blue Line has a down home feel to it and is home to many regulars. Its insides are filled with elitist professor types who, by the looks of it, do not own combs and find matching to be a thing of the past. On one of my most recent visits, I was nestled in the corner table, content with a book and my half drunk latte when a large, Armenian gentlemen with a cut off t-shirt came in. I had never seen him before, so I dismissed his presence although I was intrigued by the fact that he was a very hairy gentlemen. In fact, his classy cut off t-shirt was having trouble keeping all the hair in from his back all the way to his front. I wasn't disguted, I was more impressed. He looked mobbish. A gold ring on the pinky, no socks with his shoes and gold chains adorned his neck. He rings the bell on the counter, even though the blue line employee was right there and requests a bicycle pump. What the fuck? He's hairy and he's requesting a bicycle pump.....I immediately put my book down. Acting as if im looking over the menu, I begin to snoop. The skinny employee behin the counter says "a bicycle pump?" He replys "Yes! A bicycle pump!" The woman explains that this is a coffee shop and unfortunately, there are no bicycle pumps, but she tries to draw him in to buy a scone or some freshly baked banana bread. "Look, I need a bicycle pump!" His voice isn't so much raised, but he sounds almost excited. "We really don't have one sir, did your bike tire blow out or something?"
"No, I just stole this kids bike though and the motherfucker had a flat tire!", he laughs and then says "Oh well..."


So, as if on cue, I burst out laughing. This middle aged Armenian man stole a god damn bicycle only to find out that karma bit him in the ass and left him with a flat tire, and now he is in search of a bicycle pump.

People make me laugh.