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