Too Many People on the Bus from the Airport/Too Many holes in the Crust of the Earth

So I have been neglecting my blog.  I haven't even been writing in the dog-eared moleskine that Jim donated to me two Christmases ago.  I used to write every day.  I would sit on the train headed towards Highland Park and scrawl everything I was experiencing across the pages of my notebook.  I would sit at the Starbucks across the street from my branch and judge the impossibly thin mothers balancing their extra-hot-non-fat-triple-caff-lattes with their Louis Vuitton purses, extravagant strollers (that cost more than my car), and perfectly groomed dogs tethered to their owners by designer leashes, stalk down the cobblestone sidewalks. 

I love writing, I really do.  I just haven't been inspired to write these last few months.  Or the inspiration strikes but the follow-through doesn't.  You would think that the major life change that I went through last summer/fall would result in thoughts, emotions, and poorly constructed anecdotes overflowing onto this blog.  I guess that they have at times.  I have tons of attempted entries that I don't plan to share.  Many of which sparked by a raging bout of PMS.

I packed my life up into clear plastic bins and moved out of state to a city I had only visited several times, to an apartment I had never seen, to live with a girl I had only met once.  Things like this do change you.  You learn to adjust, to accept, to negotiate one way streets around Wrigley field.  You learn that some things are just not worth making a big deal over, and that there are others that its okay to respond to with panic.  There is this little bit of your childhood that disappears during a move like this.  The whimsy that you believe makes you unique, that makes you likable, starts to diminish.

Not all bad.

I learned a lot in my four months in Chicago.  I did.  There were things that I loved.  I loved being able to catch the red line and take it to the loop on my days off.  I loved wandering down Michigan avenue and pretending I belonged there, acknowledging the silly tourists that snapped pictures of things I decided not to get excited over.  I loved that my best friend was four blocks away, right next to a Chipotle.

I couldn't build a life on these things alone though.  I couldn't stay at a job that made me completely miserable, or with a roommate who I barely knew.  I couldn't value my time there when I wasn't even living paycheck to paycheck, when I had to call home just to beg my parents to put enough cash in my checking account so I could pay for the $2.25 subway ride home.

I have been home for three months now.  Three months to reflect on the ups and downs of my time in Chicago, and I feel like a little light has been extinguished inside of me.  That whimsy that I valued so highly, that I believed made me who I was, has become increasingly difficult to find.  There was a loneliness I felt in Chicago that I assumed would stay there after I left, but it didn't. 

I don't know that I would go back and change my decision on moving there or not.  Lets face it, I wasn't entirely happy with how my life was going before the move.  I am glad that I know what I know now, and it was an incredible learning experience.  I suppose that, at this point, I wouldn't change anything.  I am grateful for what I learned about myself, my friends, and my family.

Sorry I've been away from the blogosphere for so long.  I will try to fix that.

And my Heart turns violently inside my chest...

A couple of weeks ago I went home to Grand Rapids to take in the magic of autumn in West Michigan.  G, A, and I ventured out to Robinette's for cider, donuts, pumpkins, and wine tasting.  We wanted to tackle all of the fall cliches in one day.

G and A

Several hours later, still sloshing with cider and shaking crumbs of cinnamon sugar off of our clothes, we found ourselves sitting around G's dining room table (fun fact: Once upon a time the Gambles had the same table as the Grotenhuises do).*  Another A had joined our ranks and for the first time in a very long time I was at peace.  We sat there, making stupid jokes and chastizing one another for ditzy comments or absurd proclamations ("Eat your WORDS!"-G to A for no real reason).

I had left home, expecting to experience the glamor and excitement of Chicago.

In all honesty, I thought the girls around that table were far more glamorous than anyone I had shared the red line with in the last two months.  I was more excited at the prospect of hitting up a family friendly apple orchard than I get about wandering around the Loop.

My brother recently blogged that there are places that are great to visit and there are places that are great to live in.  He is absolutely right.  There are hundreds of thousands of people that love living in Chicago.  W is one of them, God bless her, but for me, this move has been largely disappointing.  I am currently doing everything within my power to move back to Michigan.

I can still see how Chicago can feel like home... for other people.  It has everything anyone could need, but for me, I need to be back in my Michigan cocoon.  It doesn't have my friends (save for W), my family, or my heart.  It is all too easy to get lost in a city like Chicago.  Here, one person doesn't matter unless they have millions and are starting their own TV network (looking at you Oprah!).  Grand Rapids is undergoing a major revitalization.  I can contribute to that.  I want to contribute to that.  I miss open roads, stars, crack fries, and even awkward patriotic salutes at Mojo's.

I have spent more time in prayer over the last two months than I probably ever have in my life.  If nothing else, I have learned to really value my relationship with God throughout this transition.  I lost the comforts of home that blinded me to how much I need to rely on God.  Moving here stripped away all of the distractions I had at home.  I know that that seems counterintuitive, but its true.  I lost my comforts and my routines.  I learned to rely on God's peace, and on his providence. 

God is good.

I am coming home.

/=/

There are three exotic boys sleeping in the bedroom next to mine in my Chicago apartment.

The finest of France, India, and Egypt followed me home last night, whining about the distance from Sheffield's to my apartment, the three flights of stairs they had to climb, and the deflated air mattress they had to share.

I love these boys.

I am learning to love Chicago, and it's a good thing because I am entering my fourth week of being a Chicago resident.

Things I have learned so far:

-I don't need my dad here to set up accounts with the gas and electric companies.
-The gas and electric companies are two separate entities.
-I can function without the internet.
-The library is a magical distraction from homesickness and financial worries.
-Bertolli dinners may cost $6 a piece, but they will feed me for a week.
-If I only stick two corners of my temporary parking pass to the windshield, I can change the date on it every night and get more use out of it (I have stretched two weeks worth of parking passes into lasting a month).
-Buddy up to the bar tenders.  They know all the fun things to do (like this and this).
-Sidewalk chalk maps can yield exciting results.
-I need my family.  Constantly.

Chicago is interesting.  It isn't home yet, but I can see how it could be.

This Must Be the Place

"Hey Jen, um, just want to let you know that, uh, next Thursday will be my last day."

Since 2004 I have had four different jobs.  I started out as a "sales associate" at Party City during my senior year of high school.  I went on to put in two years at an assisted living facility, six months at a Big Apple Bagel, and just over two years at National City Bank (now PNC). 

It is surprisingly hard for me to leave my branch.  I have complained about my co-workers, some more than others, but I know them.  I know their stories, I know how to relate to them, I know how they relate to me.  In about a week I will say goodbye to my family of the past two years, and dive head first into the icy waters of a new job.  In a new city.  With people who already know one another's stories.

I am officially moving to Chicago.  I am leaving the safety of my parents' home behind.  My sister and her family will no longer be six miles away, but more like 300.  I have to leave the paths that I wore down over the last twenty-three years to blaze new ones.

I am excited.  Just not right now.  Right now I am terrified.  I am so unbelievably upset about leaving this all behind.  I want to undo all of it.  I want to stay where it's safe, where it's warm, where I don't feel loneliness.

I wish I had the luxury of easing in to this move.  I want to adjust to my new apartment, my new city, before immersing myself in a new job.  I want to bring my branch with my customers (even the angry ones) with me.  I would love one constant. 

Are You the Now or Never Kind?

I have done my fair share of irresponsible things.

Some worthy of noting, but the majority are not.

This week I jumped into what could quite possibly end up being the most irresponsible thing of them all.

With no job lined up, no cash saved, and no real plan, I agreed to lease an apartment in Chicago. This is pretty terrifying, in fact I spent several hours yesterday (After the mold had been cast) trying to not to cry while figuring out how to finance this new endeavor.

Now let me tell you, I am very blessed to have the family that I do. My wise older brother told me that these are the times when God steps in. Taking this leap gives me the opportunity to fully rely on God's providence, to really see him in action.

I have been praying about the job situation almost all day today, and then, on the way home from work I was suddenly brought back to my days as an Awana Sparky. One of those verses I had agonized over in second grade floated into my head.

"We are Sparks for Jesus, Sparks to light the world"

Philippians 4:6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

And I felt myself calm down. I am doing everything within my power to find a job down there. I have about a month to do so. I have to believe that God will step in provide an opportunity for me.

I love Michigan with my whole heart, Michigan will always be home to me, but I can't spend my life living in the routine I have created.  New things.

Good things.

SOmething clever or relevant as my title

I have been a very bad blogger. Let me just tell you, it isn't my fault.

Well, it kind of is, but mostly not.

I have been stretching myself out between my internship, my job, and my summer classes. I have dedicated 50+ hours each week to bettering myself. Weekends have become the time in which I sleep, do my laundry, revise my resume for new prospects, and edit old papers to turn into writing samples.

Naturally I am exhausted. I just want to fast forward to August when I will be completely finished with my internship, my summer classes, and hopefully my time at PNC.

I have lately become obsessed with the idea of joining J in Chicago. As a result I am crawling all over job postings for technical writers and communication specialists within a 25 mile radius. I found one truly exciting prospect, but I think it is safe to say that the first job I would have in Chicago would probably be banking related.

How depressing.

Whatevs, I'm excited y'all!

Hear The Signs, and Know They're Speaking To You

I frequently like to tout the magic and wonder that is the city of Grand Rapids.  You are all sick of it, I know.

Don’t worry, that’s not what this is about.  I love my city, it’s growing, changing, and catching the attention of some very powerful people, but alas, this weekend I was reminded that Grand Rapids is not the end-all-be-all of places to wind up. 

I spent the weekend running around the Evanston/Chicago with my gorgeous BFF. 

We played beer pong over breakfast on the roof.

Tooled around Evanston in a Benz.

Took in some Regina Spektor.

…and Nelly.

Met the Turkish version of Jake Gyllenhaal

And giggled at inappropriate things, watched sexy foreigners run around without their shirts on, and just soaked up the time we spent together (awwwwwwwwe). 

Getting away from Grand Rapids, from my routine, and from all the people that have grown bored with me was nothing short of catharsis.   

Grand Rapids may always be my home, but I am really not ready to settle into a home life yet.  As of last week Thursday, I am 23 years old.  That’s young.  Too young to be tied down to a mortgage, too young to be tied down to anything. 

This weekend I am forcing myself to start a more rigorous job search.  Initial places of interest? Chicago, Charleston, Boston, anywhere that is big, beautiful, and entirely new to me. 

I am so ridiculously proud of J and the way she has made Chicago her own.  I’ve said it before but the girl is exactly where she needs to be.  She has established an entire life outside the four walls of Jenison, and it’s a GOOD life, full of wonderful people.  I love it.  And her. 

Some days you just want the rest of your life to happen right away.  Unfortunately these are the days in which I am stuck in a 3.5 hour class on Monday/Wednesday nights.

This is the first time in my life that I have ever anxiously awaited the end of summer.

We'll find we're never too far apart.

We spent this weekend in the lovely Chi visiting my hot-mess of a lady-friend, W.



We went to a fabulous bar in Wrigleyville that I now love, called Barleycorn's.

Being from a small scale city like Grand Rapids, I don't have much experience driving through large scale city freeways. Poor Robyn had to put up with me yelling at other drivers for cutting me off/tailing me, or pleading with them to let me merge, and asking where these additional lanes kept coming from. She's a good friend.

Evanston is lovely. No wonder Mean Girls takes place there.

We loved meeting all of Jenny's friends in the SLP program at Northwestern. I think Jen is exactly where she needs to be. I love it. and her. and Robyn.

I don't love the Pilot station that I stopped at on the way home that overfilled my gas tank, or the disapproving stares we got on the L-train for singing Journey with the drunk bum.

(or the disapproving stares we got for drinking beer out of mittens.)



Aren't people in the Chi used to seeing this?