notes from my September week in Chicago

I love this wandering, nomadic lifestyle. I love Chicago. The L. My paisley coffee mug. Telling stories and sharing memories with old friends. Parks. Having time to finish books. Not knowing anyone for miles and yet never feeling alone. Dressing like a hipster in skinnies & plaid. Time in solitude then meals with friends. Riding bikes. The smoothness of road bikes. The wind in my hair. Nutella. Studying works of art. Feeling the expression of pictures. Attempting to accept modern art. Hoping people will mistake me for an artistic hipster, not a young financier. Dreaming of leaving finance. Straining and experimenting for that perfect shot. Couch surfing with old friends I haven't seen in years. Seeing people passionate and striving for something. Living out of a suitcase. Minimal stuff. Late night waiting for trains at abandoned stations in ‘bad neighborhoods’. Talking to people passionate about their careers. Talking to people idealistic and hopeful. Talking to people who haven’t bought the lie of American dreams. Books by the pound. Not understanding Bloomingdales ‘fashion’. Getting carded. Ordering an orange cane soda because I came on a bike with no ID. Workers blowing up a 2 story inflatable rat for a promo pause to fill up a biker’s low tire. A guy from Africa and I exchange cameras to take pictures of each other in front of the river. Memories float back of that cold February that Mom and I ventured to Chicago to retrieve my Chilean visa. Memories with BFFs wandering, attending concerts, dressing up, peeing on the river walk…Mere… Free wifi. Electrical outlets in open hotel bathrooms. Studying a German family with two beautiful daughters (my cousins??) enjoy their boat tour—as I vow to learn German from those CD’s I bought. Not working, not caring. Still getting paid. Eating ridiculous portions. Taking horrible pictures of myself on boat tour. Brainstorming ways I could practice my Spanish con más frequencía. Admiring details on office buildings. Undisturbed beaches with sturdy rocks for sitting. The movement of cities. Marveling at the bravery of bike riders in city traffic. Neighborhoods. Drinking a bottle of wine on a roof. Lake Shore Drive. Bakery indulgences. Mango bubble tea. Brainstorming new careers. Regretting not med schooling. Regretting not teaching. Regretting not going abroad. Regretting having to be regretful. Giving the finger to expectations and responsibilities. Projecting my own judgment on myself. Am I just coming into who I am? Porch gardens. Big old houses housing eight young people rejecting affluence. Christians heralding the end of Christiandom. Chatting with nonChristians who seem have a better grasp of what Jesus meant than many Christians I encounter. Baked Brie. Picking apples. Wine tastes. Live music. Wind farms in rural Illinois. The satisfaction that my cousin is dating the next Ira Glass of This American Life Fame. The fresh air of freedom. The freedom of fresh air.