Ritualizing.

Amber and I sat on her porch, having a talk, her having a smoke and me having some pretzels. It almost felt like being back in Hyde Park, nestled with Suzanne in my dilapidated lawn chairs, listening to songs on my computer and watching her drink Mexican beer. It felt for a brief moment like I did not have to get back onto a plane today, go write some more papers today, and pump through the rest of something that I am having semi-sincere doubts has given me what I expected it to, through mostly no fault of my own. It felt right.

I wish I could explain how quiet it is in the suburbs; it started to rain softly when we sat outside. There is something comforting about bringing inside things outside and protecting them, like an afgan or a pillow. So we sat there, having a very personal conversation in what seemed like our carved our corner of the world. Even though I can email Poland in an instant, the world is still large; oceans are still deep. So, whenever there is a corner of the world that we fit into, that it seems was grooved for our bodies, it is important to note. Even when the rain began to slant and we had to go inside, it was a forced retreat. We did not want to give to the night.

Perhaps I over-exaggerate but sometimes the moments of infinity are all too short (mind-bender, I know...give it a second...)

I think this is the prevailing sentiment; things feel right when I am doing them. Things feel normal when I am in Chicago. Granted, I've had my share of ups and down, but since about mid-November, I've been able to construct what I am going to need to happen in order to be content (by and large) in this city. It's like drafting an experiment and then having to wait months and months to discover if it was the right idea.

Every time I am driving somewhere, especially lately with the roof open and the music up-beat, I realize that I feel different here. Maybe the air is different, or maybe it's simply psychosomatic. But either way, I have to keep believing that things are more realistic for me here. I like my body in this place; I don't think I could ahve realized it, perhaps, if I hadn't gone away first. I took this city, its diners, its people and its giant buildings for granted. I had easy access: the lake, the shore, the museums and the dinners and lunches--all mine.

I have developed a ritual with Stephanie, to go to Cupcakes. When I am back in Chicago permanently, we might have to regulate this ritual, otherwise, we're both going to end up big as houses. But, this is the kind of thing I have carved out for myself here. I know it doesn't seem like a big deal to get in a car and drive to a store that produces the likes of "Peach Bellini" or "Chocolate Merlot" cupcakes and drive home. But, it is this act of ritualizing that I am familiar with in Chicago.

Rituals have been a part of peoples' lives since we were drawing on cave walls. Rituals make us safe and keep us whole. They make us feel as though we are part of something larger, as though we fit in something. With Boston, I feel like I am a broken cog in some way. But when I am driving down LSD, I somehow have convinced myself I am contributing to the world in some way. My wheels are like prayers and my tapping fingers are repeating, repeating to make it real.

Post the First

I know, unfair to begin posting in my brand-spanking-new Chicago blog, when I am still in Boston for twenty-seven more days. However, I'm already starting to build the life here, so I figured I should begin ruminating on it in a more appropriate space.

I'm trying to have a lot of fun in the remaining days of Boston--Fenway Park, a drive to New Hampshire, a weekend with my mom and Audrey and of course, papers and papers and papers. And more eating of burgers and North End food. I will miss my buddies, especially Trish and Paula. But, in the end, there is so much more I miss about Chicago.

I was driving home last night, rounding LSD by the Drake Hotel, right before the exit for Chicago Ave. and I realized how much I am simply in love with the skyline of my city. My city. I looked at it, curving and bright, and thought how no matter what Boston, or Seattle or Georgia or anywhere else had to offer, there was something mythical and magical about how the buildings alligned and about diners like "Salt and Pepper" and the entire Gold Coast. Thereis something comfortable, but new, about Chicago for me. So much I haven't explored yet. i am not coming home to do mroe of the same; I am coming to a place to begin anew. Whether it's living with Erin or on my own, they'll both be completely new experiences. There's just a sense of permanency here, a sense of growth and development but with roots, that I don't think I can find anywhere else.

In twenty-seven days, I'm coming home. I didn't think I ever appreciated the immensity of that words before this weekend.