Home is...where?

I have a running joke in my life. My father asked me where home was the other day? Meaning where is the place that I call home, and I said "well, I don't really have one, I'm homeless." He laughed. I laughed; but it is kind of true.

 Ever since I was little I remember moving a lot. Now, don't get me wrong, I believe that I am the person I am today because of all the wonderful (and not so wonderful) places that I have lived and the people that I've met. I've honestly lost count. I know that the number of times I've moved since I went away to college is now ten. So, the over all count has to be somewhere up in the twenties. There was the time we spent living with my grandparents when we first moved to San Antonio. Then we moved in with my step-dad (just dad from here on out) for a bit. Del Rio. Back to San Antonio, where we lived in an apartment complex behind my elementary school. I got in trouble because I would just climb the fence to get home instead of walking ALL the way around the building, which is just a total waste of time.

Then we moved into the house. I can't remember the address anymore, but I can still tell you the layout of the house. I can still see the green carpet and my blue room, the tree house in the backyard. That is the house that I grew up in. So, when people ask me where I am from I do say Texas, because that is where my heart is. Unfortunately we had to move out of that house when I was a freshman in highschool. We moved in with my grandparents again, the house on Briardale. We were only there for a few months and then we moved to Florida.

In Florida we moved in with my mom's boyfriend. I hated the house, it didn't feel lived in. Then we found out some not so savory things about his character and we moved out. Well, my brother and I went to North Carolina and when we came back we had been moved. This is when we moved into the "shit shack", a little two bedroom house on 26th st. It was a perfect square. The joke was that you could stand in the center of the house and turn around in a circle and see the entire place, which wasn't really a joke just plain fact. I was only there for two years and then I moved back to Texas to live my grandparents back on Briardale. Then I moved to Chicago and I moved from dorm room to dorm room, back home for the summer, to apartment complex to different apartment complex.

My boyfriend and I started looking for a new place to live a few weeks ago, because his commute is an hour half to and from. We saw a few places...most of them crap. We found one we liked but we just didn't get that feeling. The "this is going to be our home for a while" feeling. The feeling we got when we first found our cat Jimi, or when we looked for months trying to find him a cat friend and then one day we saw Poe and instantly knew that she was the one. We didn't get that excited butterfly feeling. So, he said "maybe we should call Marty and ask him if we can stay another month." I emailed him last night, I was too scared to talk to him on the phone because what if he said no then we would literally be homeless. He is an amazing man and has taken great care of us these past few years.

A few years ago I got a tattoo on the back of my neck that says "gypsy soul" in my mom's handwriting. I got it for many reasons, because my father used to sing Van Morrison to me when I was a baby to help me get to sleep, the album with Into the Mystic on it. "I wanna rock your gypsy soul". But I also got it because they used to call us "the gypsy family" back in Florida and I believe that I am. I get restless staying in the same place for too long and I want to get up and move, but there's something different about it this time.

Last night I was reading in bed and Craig came in and said "I'm sorry that I couldn't find us a place to move to." I said that I didn't mind; that I was actually glad that we were staying. He said "Home. For a little while longer." I nearly cried. I think I'm finally starting to make my own place and I think I'm finally starting to feel it...home.

The List

For those who don't know I have started a new hobby/obsession. A few months back I stumbled upon "BBC's 'Big Read' Top 100 Books", and I quickly set out and scratched off the ones I had read. The number was somewhat sad and so I decided that I would try to tackle "The List". I was already half way through "The Fellowship of the Ring" when I found "The List", so I went about trying to acquire the rest of the books. I did own some of them on my Kindle, but we all know how I feel about reading classics on my e-reader. Sacrilege, if you ask me. So I'm determined to own every book, in it's hardcover/paperback/classic form. We already owned quite a few, which I was quite proud of, even though we had never really read them. The others, to my surprise and happiness, I have found at our local thrift store. Our friend Adrian can attest to the fact that I'm there at least once a week, "The List" in hand, exclaiming that it is either a good or bad book day. So, now friends I give you: "The List".

My love hate relationship with my Kindle

About two years ago my mom asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I had been toying around with the idea of buying a kindle for some time, but I was still on the fence about it. I mean, could I really forsake my huge library for an electronic thing that weighed less than a pound? And could I jusitfy buying books for $9.99 when I could walk to Brown Elephant and buy a paperback for $.25? My library had grown considerably once I figured out that Brown Elephant carried books and when I realized how cheap they were. Soon I was buying books that I hadn't even heard of before! I was addicted. From the summer of 2009 until I got my Kindle in the summer of 2010 I read 17 books. I know that doesn't sound too terribly impressive...but I impressed myself. The problem with reading that many books is that I had to CARRY all of those books, not at the same time mind you, to and from the train everyday. If there was any chance that I could sneak in a bit of reading anywhere I had to make sure that I had the book in my purse, and if there was a possibility that I would finish a book on the way to or from work I had to bring a back up book with me because I can't just sit idle on the train. The day that I realized that I should even consider buying a Kindle was when I was halfway through one massive book. "The Autobiography of Henry VIII: With Notes by His Fool; Will Somers". This book is OVER 1,000 pages long and it's a bitch to carry around with you everywhere. I felt like I was back in highschool carrying around all of those nonsense text books. So, I started to research and I found that I could get a Kindle for $120 with ads. My boyfriend HATES that it advertises when I put it in sleep mode, but all you have to do is turn it over and "voila" no more ads, but he says it's still like having a big ol' billboard in the house.

Disconnecting

I remember when my family got our first computer. It was Christmas and I must've been about nine, if memory serves me, and my mom and dad did a bait and switch; a sort of box with in a box sort of trickery. I remember screaming and jumping for joy because my family finally had a computer in the house. That computer served us well. I played Oregon Trail and we had dial up internet via AOL. That really was the life.
Then quite a few years later I remember getting my first cell phone. I had just come back from New York where I celebrated my 16th birthday with my family. When I got home my mom had made my favorite dish, one of the things she does well, eggplant parmesan and there was a bag on the table, and then the strangest thing happened. The bag began to ring. I tore through the tissue paper and there was my phone. It was, what we call these days, a "go phone". I had a pre-paid amount of minutes that I could use and when those ran out the phone became, well, a paper weight. But I was still thrilled to have my very own phone. When I moved back to San Antonio from Florida I used my grandparents computer and I would waste many long nights on AIM talking to my friends that literally lived around the corner, but this was before everyone had texting so it was the easiest way to get in touch with someone at 2 in the morning.

A slight change of plan...

Friends, as this year draws to a close I have made some decisions that pertain not only to my own life but to this blog as well.

As far as this blog is concerned the change is minor. I will still be writing periodically about my daily musings and goings on, but on top of that I shall also be using this as a creative outlet. I stumbled upon a book I was given back in junior year of highschool by my creative writing teacher, Ms. C. "A Writer's Book of Days" is the book and it gives you (the writer) short prompts and inspirations to begin writing and you set aside a time for yourself everyday to create something from those prompts. When I told my boyfriend about this idea he said "but why can't you just write?" A valid question. With a valid answer. I have been writing on and off since highschool and I used to be able to just sit and write out pages upon pages and I thought it was decent, but now I feel age and experience make me feel very inadequate as a writer. So, I sit down to write and knock out a page or two and then I feel it's all crap and ultimately end up throwing it out. I have all of these ideas but I'm having trouble getting them out of my head and onto the page, so I feel that setting aside 30 minutes (minimum) a day to write everyday and having a small sentence to guide me may help me regain the confidence of my youth. "What does this have to do with us?" you're probably wondering. Well, dear friends, I have decided that I shall be posting whatever comes out of these prompts here. Don't worry, I won't be linking all of the posts to Facebook and other social networking sites. Just the ones I feel deserve a good read. You are always more than welcome to stop by any time and read, if you like. I can't guarantee that all of them will hold any weight, but this is an adventure after all.

As far as my life is concerned, well, I have decided to undergo another adventure and pick up another hobby (on top of the daily writing). With the coming of the new year I have become determined to take better care of myself. I'm going to start working out, mostly at home for now but you never know maybe I'll grow a pair and start running outside. To help me on this journey I had my boyfriend buy me some workout gear as a Christmas present, which (I'm hoping) will guilt me into working out everyday, or almost everyday. I have four months until we go to Puerto Rico and I am determined to look like should actually be wearing a bikini. The big change will be my sobriety. For the entire month of January, friends, I will not be consuming any "adult beverages". I'm going to go out with a bang on New Year's Eve and then for the 30 or so days after I will be the DD. I will be the pinnacle of sobriety!

This will be a journey into my soul. This will be an interesting 30 days. I'm determined to get into shape, not only physically but mentally as well. I'm armed with my running shoes, a fancy new Nike training app on my phone, a new 'do, a kindle loaded with the classics (The Last of the Mohicans, Black Beauty, Jane Eyre, A Tale of Two Cities, the Lord of the Rings, etc., etc., etc.), a new notebook and pen, and an iron will.
So there it is, friends. I hope you'll stick around. 

My one regret

Dear friends, I am sorry for being MIA these past few weeks. I had meant to write a Thanksgiving post but once I started I felt like it was crap so I promptly deleted it. It was all downhill from there really. I went to, what I call, "my dark place", everyone knows what I'm talking about. That place you go to when you have too much time on your hands and you start dwelling on things that you ultimately can't change in the here and now.
For me, it pertains to a certain place and a certain time spent there. Although good things did come out of my time spent there I still can't help but raise a glass and say "to Columbia College Chicago, my one regret." Like I said great things happened while I was there. I have amazing friends that I met while living in the dorms. I found the greatest love a girl could ask for there in those cramped rooms and hallways and yet I came out of that place more mixed up then when I went in.
When I first arrived in the city I was certain of what I wanted to do; I was going to wait tables and pursue the stage. After I graduated that dream slowly faded to the background where it became "do whatever it takes to survive". Now, almost three years after graduation and I'm still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. At this point it's not even, "what do I want to do that will make me the happiest", even though I'm trying to my damnedest to work happiness into the equation, now it's "what can I do to make enough money to pay back my 100,000$ + loans". That's right friends I said $100,000+!
God, that feels good to finally say out loud. I have been carrying this around for a long while and the entire time I have been bearing the burden, because it is my fight. It's my fault. I was the one who insisted that I move to this city and go to that school, and you try to tell yourself that you're not the only one. I know of a quite a few people who have graduated from Columbia who are now working at Blockbuster, Starbucks, AMC, doing anything to make sure you have food in the fridge. So the next question is: what do you do?
I have had many "ideas", hair-brained as they are, I've pretty much run the gamet of "pay back loan" ideas. Everything just short of selling my body (damn those morals) and I still can't find it. I'm never going to write the next great American novel. I'm never going to star in that new Tony award wining show (at least not in the next ten years). I'm never going to be able to pay back these loans making 4.95 an hour on top of the tips I'm making. So, I had a thought...
For those of you who don't know I work next to a law school which is where I got the idea of getting my paralegal certification, which is what I'm doing now at a community college near the house. But what if I took it a step further? What if I bit the bullet and went to law school? I'm enjoying my classes, for the most part, and after working next to a law school for so many years I think I may actually be able to do it. I am only human after all and when I get these thoughts in my head I quickly think that I'm not good enough, not smart enough; but I see some of these people who have made it into law school and I'm just as smart as them, when I apply myself. It would mean taking out more loans, yes, but while I was in school I wouldn't have to worry about getting those calls saying that I'm late making a payment, a fact that I know even before they call, because it would put my loans into deferment. It would mean long nights and heavy books. But it would also mean that once I got out I would, more than likely, be able to find a job where I could provide for myself. I've heard that the attorney job market isn't the best right now, but I would be finished in three to four years and a lot can happen in that time.
For the first time I think I've found something that I actually enjoy doing and would be able to do well, one professor from said law school next door said that she could see me up in front of a jury. I should thank her because she is the reason I'm even considering this in the first place. Is it crazy? Yes. But for the first time I can think of the future and not be afraid.

It's cold in the city

Well, Chicagoans, winter is indeed upon us. I know because my mom text me this morning at nine to tell me so. 

"Bundle up, it's going to be cold and windy by you today"

What? Cold and windy you say? In Chicago? Say it ain't so, Ma? I jest. It truly is cold here. It's the deceiving type of cold though. 

You wake up in the morning with the sunlight streaming through your window. You walk through the living room to see the cat happily laying in the sun and he does that little stretch and roll which means "look how cute I am! PET ME!" So you end up spending five minutes or so lying in the sun petting the cat with a little smile on your face thinking "what a great day". You go into the kitchen and start to make your morning cup of coffee and even pour yourself a bowl of cereal, go ahead, be adventurous it's a beautiful day outside! You pour yourself that perfect cup of coffee (just enough sugar and that perfect splash of cream; not like those bitches down at Dunkin Donuts do it.. "sugar and just a little bit of cream." You end up drinking coffee flavored milk, ick)  and that's when you know for sure that this is going to be THE day. Today you'll be walking with that extra pep in your step, you'll grab the bull by the horns, you'll...wait a second...what is that noise? No...it can't be. Ahhh, but you live in Chicago and you will never ever forget this sound. 

That is the sound of the wind picking up and what little leaves are left on the trees rustling together. Then  your windows start to rattle, because you live in a building that was erected in the 1930's and even though they are beautiful you're pretty sure that these are those original windows. Through the wavy glass of one window you see it. The trees violently swaying to and fro, thrashing even, trees smacking into other trees. "Alright," you say to yourself "it's a little windy out, the sun is still shining and there's not a cloud in the sky." And then you do it. Coffee cup in hand you unlock the back door and the wind throws the door open and the chill from outside penetrates your apartment. You manage to fight the wind and close the back door. You are determined to not let this ruin your perfect day, so you decided to continue on with your usual routine. 

You shower and pick something to wear. You recently bought a new pair of jeggings those would look nice...long sleeves? Where did all of your long sleeve shirts go? Two? You have two long sleeve shirts?? You live in Chicago, how is this possible? No matter. Wear the white one. Ok. Great. Now you dry your hair and it looks perfect, you've never seen your hair look so good! It must be that new heat protectant you've been using. Then you put on some makeup. Hot damn! You look amazing! The hair...the face...the clothes, ahh yes a perfect day! Now you get your "winter" coat out of the closet and grab a scarf. Gloves? You should probably wear gloves. Where the fuck are the gloves? Sock drawer...you're sure there's a pair in the sock drawer and there is. Then you remember that you can't use your iphone with gloves on. Stupid fucking touch screen! How am I supposed to keep my hands warm and change songs at the same time?!? You find that pair of fingerless gloves hidden in the back of the drawer, these will have to do, even though your fingers are not protected from the elements, which is more important? Fingers or skipping that Ke$ha song you bought when you were drunk? Coat, scarf, gloves...hat? A hat? Shit...you suddenly flashback to last winter and you see yourself "thinking" you put your hat in your purse and, oh no, you miss the purse and your hat lands in the slushy snow mess outside of Hamburger Mary's! NOOOOOOOOOO! Your poor little ears will be so cold. You glance at the clock, "Shit." you say to no one in particular. You're running late. You must leave the house now!!

You run down the front stairs and pause at the front door, brace yourself now, the first chill is always the worst. You open the door and wind whips around your body. Not so bad, alright, now just 15 minutes until you're at the train. The wind picks up as you cross Clark street and your perfect hair is now in your perfect face, sticking to your lips. You should know better than to put chapstick on before you go outside in the windy city. Your pushing against the wind, but it's putting up a good fight, almost knocking you to the ground a few times. You're almost there now you can see the train through the perfect hair in your face. If you had a hat you wouldn't be having this problem. You're in the train vestibule and about to go through the turn style, when you hear it...another sound that you know so well...

The train. Your train. Passing right above you. You can do this! You can make it! Quickly now! Through the turn style and up the stairs, taking them two at a time. You make it to the platform and run to the first car you see...NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! The doors are closed and the train is pulling away...fuck. You wait under the heat lamps, you're still freezing. Another train should be here soon, so says the iphone. And soon enough you are on the red line heading to work. You settle in, turn on your kindle and start to read that book that you love. You think you hear someone's phone ringing...but it's not stopping. You lift your eyes from your book and hone in on that asshole who decided he wants the entire train to know what he's listening to! WHY? Just tune him out. Just another 25 minutes. Maybe he'll get off before you. No such luck, he gets off at Jackson, same as you. 

You work your shift and the only thing that makes this messed up perfect day better is seeing your regulars who laugh with you about the weather and you swap winter horror stories. You tell them the one about the hat. After your shift is over it's time to get back on the dreaded red line. You get to the platform and hear that guy who raps...he's not very good, but he always has a crowd. Thankfully, a train comes quickly. The sun has gone down now and it's ten degrees colder then when you left earlier, but the wind has subsided. Why do you live here? It's freezing cold...in NOVEMBER. You have to walk everywhere in the cold. What's going to happen to you when there's snow on the ground and, somehow, the slush saturates your boots to the point where your socks are wet?

You see the playground! You're almost there. If you run you could make this light. You pick up the pace and miss the light. No matter, you're almost home, you could cry you're so happy. You make it across the street and up the stairs. Aaaaaa...home. 

You take off your coat and scarf and lay them over the chair. You peek in the kitchen to see your boyfriend opening up a bottle of your favorite wine...and he has two glasses. And you're reminded of why you do live here and why you do actually like winter. 

Winter is the time for red wine and watching three movies in one night. Winter is the time for staying in bed an extra five minutes because it's just so warm under the blankets. Winter is the time for beating video games in two days, because there's nothing else to do. Winter is the time for self evaluation and getting back to you. Winter is...