Update

I've been writing and drawing, but not having a computer does shorten how much I can do... and really I shouldn't even be doing this, I should be looking at online ads.

Temp. Roomate situation is fine- she thinks my lentil,split pea,collard and mustard greens, garlic, onion, white wine, stock cube, thyme, olive oil and quinoa soup smells really nasty- so I make it when she's not there and then boil up a toffee flavored teabag. She does not conserve paper towels (which is just a pet peeve I'm dealing with silently as she rips off 8 sheets for who knows what), but that's about as dramatic as it's ever gotten between us.

I have a part time job at Victoria's Secret. To anyone who thinks that doesn't really sound like me... well, I do have work clothes from my period of HR where I decided that maybe I should look like an HR for my own good, and I do wear bras. And as for selling them with enthusiasim- my background in drama (and the bs I'd have to come up with for my commercial art projects) comes in handy. They know I'm going to weekends when I get a FT.

It's very rainy here. Normally that would predjiduce me to a city, but Chicago and I have a foundation, so instead I walk around noting how atmospheric the rain makes certain buildings and streets.

And Mom, you'll be glad to know I'm not loosing my driving skills. They are actively applied on the sidewalk. Approaching slow poke.... No, I can't pass... opposite traffic coming too fast... *slow down*... can I pass?... *check behind me to make sure noone else is trying to get ahead*... proceed past slow poke. (and there are a lot of slow pokes in this town. bloody buckets).

Love, me.

The Air and Water Show

I was walking down Clark, about to sign my life away to a new bank, when I saw (and heard) a fighter jet zoom over head, seeming be headed for the nearest tall building.
My breath stopped and I paused "Oh great." I thought in a wry and nonchalant voice, least I get embarressed later for freaking out like a silly hayseed "We're being attacked."

When I didn't see a ball of flame decend upon me, seeing as the fighter jet decided to go around the building, I remembered reading in the free "Redeye paper" that the annual air and water show was this weekend, so I would be seeing and hearing fighter jets zooming around for hours with out needing to fun for my life. Or in my case, assume the fetal position and hope it all goes away.

I then signed my life and my returned saftey deposit check over to my new nationwide bank and went back home for fine dining of lentils and (a home made) baguette. My agenda, as it is pretty much every day, was to go to the Downtown library (since you can use Word there and not at the others) and intend to answer help wanted ads online.

I decided to walk to the library since it was only 3-4 miles, and it would save me $1.75. I had intended to walk down parts of Wells (parts of it have a lot of shops). Another fighter plane zoomed above me and while I don't really like loud sounds over my head, I decided I would feel less depressed about the "no spending" orrdanance on the lakefront than on a shopping street.
So I walked over to lake shore drive, and waited to cross with a women and her young daughter.
The daughter was dressed up in a A-line skirt with pink ribbon with a matching halter top. She stood with one of her hands on her hips surveying those across the road. "I like that women's hair." She said. "Isn't it pretty?" she looked up at her mom "It is."
She fluffed her ponytail "I like my hair to." she said "Me too baby." The mom replyed.
The light changed and I was walking ahead of them. "That girl is wearing tennis shoes with her skirt. Isn't that funny!" The girl loudly proclaimed in an exuberant and happy voice only a kid can pull off as they don't know/don't care that the girl in brown sneakers (rather expensive earth shoes that I wouldn't recommend getting) and colorful red spanish skirt ($1.50- thrift store in omaha) down to her calves can totally hear her.
I didn't get to hear the mom's reply because she did care that I could hear her and lowered her voice.
I felt rather cool that my style had just gotten knocked by a 5 year-old. I probably won't be able to ever get my holy grail- being on People's worst dress list (though I feel I would class it up, since most of the women on the list are usually on their for their penchant for hooker wear). So I will take this kindergarden critique with pride.

I threw off my shoes (for the sand, not the pint sized fashonista) and trodded down the beach. Ah beach. I love walking downtown on the beach- you can't go east because there's the lake, and above you is a mountain range to ensure you know what direction you're headed. The fighter planes were putting on their show the whole time I walked down the beach. It was pretty cool, though I'm sure I looked rediculous cringing and silently gasping if a plane suprised be by zooming directly above or flying directly towards eachother, curving off at the last moment, or looking like they were going to take out downtown.

When I made my way off the beach into the River north part of downtown I stopped, there before me, was the main headquarters for: American Girl.

I never had an American Girl Doll. An American girl doll with historical accesories was not in the Thye family budget. I had one book- "Samantha saves the day." and a monthly subscription to the free cataloge.

Every month the magazine was pretty much the same... but every month I poured over it- wishing, hoping, dreaming, and planning.
I poured a victiorian tea forSamantha and sampled a petite four *(sp?). I assured Kristin that she wasn't stupid, just a Swedish immigrant who was going to be ok on the Minnesotan prarie as I helped her with her lesson on her chalkboard. I sometimes ignored Molly, seeing as she was a bit of a dork with her glasses, dumpy clothes and long mousy brown hair... I now feel I may have been projecting on the poor girl. She was spunky. And she did win capture the flag at camp in "Molly saves the day."

What facinated me most was the miniture plastic lunches each girl had. I'd flip back and fourth- which one would I pick, if I could only pick one. Would it be Smanatha's watercress sandwhich (on white bread), deviled egg, peach and gingerbread man cookie in the shiny gold pail with an embroidered napkin? Molly's lunch with a pbj, celery and carrot sticked looked a bit too close to my own sorry lunch- though she also got a pear and an oreo cookie in a snappy red lunchbox. Addy came much later (I think after I was kicked off the subscription for never buying anything), but I knew she had a meat pie pastry, greapes and 4 cookies spelling out love in a tin pail. The lunch I was always drawn to in the end was Kristin's pioneer school lunch. She got a hunk of bread, sausage, cheese and an apple. How european!
I always cherished the stories where the kids (and if they weren't fetching a doctor or saving a pet... they were running away from evil orpahanges with bad conditions.... or Nazis.) would stuff their knapsacks with the same items before a journey.

Mmmm. bread, sausage, cheese and an apple.
But as I'd finalize my decision I'd go back and look at Samantha's watercress sandwich (on white bread) and wonder if perhaps I was being influenced by the carved swedish box Kristin's school lunch came in. I'd go back to the beginning, as if the lunch I picked would magically appear in place of my used and reused crumpled brown bag containing the dry wheat bun of death*

a little more later

* I would like to state that my mom feed us very well in all other meals and I am a very healthy girl for all my lack of lunch time dessert, salty package snacks and white bread... but I still can't eat pbj to this day (I've slowly forgiven carrots and celery). Soup, rice, chicken, satay, nasi kunig (sp?) Of course! Thanks mom.

Average

More later on this...

Day 9 as a Chicagoan

I would like to keep this somewhat consistant as to updating it at least every two weeks.

I havn't had any real misadventures yet, though I did smash my big toe into the crosswalk when I tripped crossing the street. I was wearing lime green flip flops that weren't exactly masking the blood pouring out as I dug through my purse for a banddaid know I wouldn't find one. I did, however, find a zip-lock baggie- which I put on my toe.

I looked like a walking tetnus shot on the 2-mile walk home, but at least I wasn't bleeding on the lovely sidewalks of Chicago.

No job yet. But resumes and apps have been filled out and turned in. I have also: made some fabulous challah bread (better than the $5-6 savings drain challah at the dsm farmers market), become a regular at the downtown library (the second largest library in the world), made cookies and biscuits, gone to the green farmers market in lincoln park, had some gazpacho at Kopi (kopi means coffee in Indonesian- the two owners met at a hostel in Indonesia) in Andersonville, gone to the Garfield Park conservatory and got a marriage (or boyfreind, if that was what I was looking for) proposal, mastered the art of making a chive omlet or chive frittata (the challah got a little dry after a few days), read a book with a compelation of stories about women and eating, gotten my room and kitchen supplies unpacked so I can sit on my world rug every morning and have tea and breakfast, found 7 health food stores, walked on the shoreline with my sandals off on North Avenue beach, cooked corn and potatoes, and have taken the L almost every day.

Today it was going to rain... kind of, almost... but the sky was taking it's sweet time so there was a foggy mist all over. Poluted Haze is probably more correct, but it still looked romantic.
Often I would pass to see a lone person walking through the arbor off trees and past the brick and stone houses. They were perfectly framed and the mist made the moment quite picturesque.

Hope all is well with you- M

Chicago: Thursday and Friday

Hah to everyone in middle Iowa- you don't have a lake breeze. (You can laugh at me during the refreshing winter breeze.)

Thurs:
Got an apartment, for the next couple months anyways.
I will be living and spliting the rent in a big one bedroom with a very nice 27-year old girl.
I was going to just move in some of my stuff- bed, clothes and put the boxes and boxes and boxes of books, mags, cooking supplies, trinkets, papers, papers, papers in a 5 by 5 by 8 storage unit, but Beth told me just to bring it all there was plenty of room. I told her I had a lot. She said that was fine and that I was paying for the apt as well, so it was mine to move into.

She's currently staying in the studio and I want this studio (but not till I get a job) My gosh it's twice the size of all the others I've seen, hard wood floors, top floor, gas stove, walk in closet. I could live with a family of 8 in there. (but they couldn't use the closet) AND it's only $655. It was delicious- I'm glad I didn't grab the studio I could sort of seeing myself living in Wed. It's also right where I want to move, right by Lincoln Park.

I've been reading the paper everyday. I feel special everyday, walking to the L stop and grabbing the free daily Red Eye paper. It's a local paper and grocery store magazine all in one- and it's in color.

Friday:
Checked out of my hostel and took the L downtown and put my bags in storage at the HI hostel. Today will be about doing a little job search on the net and then looking for jobs near the apt.

Then I'm going home to get things together, see some cousins up in South Dakota. August 1st I will be back in Chicago for good. That's exciting.

I've gotten bored with the "I did this, this, and this" daily reports. I'm going to still do them, but in my little day by day book just for myself. I'd like to learn more words, be a better writer.
I'm going to save this for complete, specific stories, personal essays, a thought here and there- not all the time, just sometimes.

Chicago so far...

Saturday: Wander into the apartmentpeople (free apartment finding service) at 11am and face 30 bored, slightly impatient looking white kids all plastered on the tan sofas... As the waiting room confirmed, they could take no one sat or sun, I'd have to come in Monday.
Perhaps I should have planned this whole move a bit more...

Sunday: Had pancakes with a friend.
Confirmed that while I really like the Wicker park neighborhood* I didn't really want to live there... just yet. (Plus the whole fact that there is a silly mainstream movie with the guy who looks like a big overgrown sad little boy... josh... something... with the same name and set in that area kind of turns me off as well- though there is an amazing song by sterophonics on the soundtrack I like to call the "sassy owl song") I've been thinking a lot about neighborhoods. What I want in them. I used to want to live where there were the most artists so there was a greater chance of me in flannel in a unheated loft feverishly painting to pay the rent (but surrounded by other flannel/colorful rag wearing wanderers). But after getting followed 15 times in 3 months in Europe... My gosh I want a little saftey. I don't want to have to walk by 4 guys glaring out at me from doorways to go home everyday. I just don't. And I want shops, but trees and parks as well. The Loop is very central, but if I am tired, lost, and hungry I start to feel a heavy despair after walking around the large concrete sidewalks for more than 10 minutes. Lincoln Park and Lakeview are where I want to live.

* (a little chicago knowledge that might be wrong) Wicker Park is one of the top 5 "artist" neighborhoods in Chicago- though I think, but since I'm a baby I don't know, a lot of that art community has migrated to the Pilsen neighborhood since the natural progression is artist move in where it's cheap, it gets popular, the yuppies and starry eyed kids move in, rent goes up- repeat somewhere else. But that Pilsen info is a bit outdated- so now it's probably somewhere I don't even know...),

Monday: Looked at apartments with the apartment people (free apartment finding service).
#1 Was dark, but had air conditioning and a gas stove
# 2 smaller than #1, had lovely hard wood floors but was on a first floor and an active imagination and a first floor, I have never felt, are a good combination.
more on this day later. while the apts didn't thrill me- def. know I want to live here.

Tuesday:
Life, I concluded today at 4:30pm, was stomach turning cappachinos with no promised internet in return, spoiled slurge chicken, soy milk and eggs in the hot hostel fridge, and crushed and smashed free spirited plans to find the perfect apartment first before I found a job to pay for said magical apartment. (went by myself and saw one, that while small and not near perfect, I could actually see myself in unlike 1 and 2)
And then my mind requested the positives of today and I my mind drew a blank. I do, like most people, snap on the tragic.
So what was good about today... 2 hours of free internet, a free bagle, a swifty accident free el ride, a windy breeze, remembering to put suncreen on the tip of my nose, having the renewed sense to forget vanity (after 2 days of bleeding crooked toes and blisters) and wear tennis shoes when one walks 5 miles, a cute leasing agent named Collin with curly hair and a caffine haze to make me feel like every word I shakily type is brilliant...

Wed:
On the search for a temporary apartment...
Looking for a job is fine... but I want a room. (even if it's sharing with someone and temporary situation). I want neighborhood I'm free to walk around in and explore.

I want an Chicago address. A chicago library card. I really want a chicago library card. That is when I will feel like a true and honest Chicagoan. When I had a laminated card that says my name and Chicago in the same 2 by 3 inch area. I think I found one (I could stay up to 3 months) in the neighborhood I want to live, but I will need to meet her and the apartment first and make sure everything is legit.

Apartment Hunting in Chicago

and job hunting to. :)

I leave tommorrow and am staying at a hostel for a little over a week.

I'll keep this a little updated with big news for now (I'm trying to regulate how much time I spend messing around on the internet until I actually find a job and an apt) or what I find...a job, a home, a magical farmer's market, a cheap skirt, a really good loaf of bread...

Back Home

Arrived in Roland safe and sound.

/end trip

and now: the Chicago blog. Me and Chi. I'll have to think about it. Michelle the Chicagoan. Becoming a Chicagoan. Chicagoan Iowan. Iowa girl moves to the big city (yeck/ but i had to put it in there.)
Moving to Chicago. Chicago gal.