big wheel keep on turning

I haven’t been much of a blogger lately, probably because it has been a pretty jam-packed few weeks.

I am getting laid off, which really sucks, but at least for now I will keep my column. So that’s good. I’m not really sure when my last day is just yet, but I do know that I am the least productive person ever while here. I can’t get it up, can’t fake it. I know they are letting me go and I find it much more difficult than usual to put up with attitude from police.

On the upside, I am quite happy in my relationship. (One of the most accurate things I have ever heard is the theory that when your love life is going well, your professional life is likely suffering, though in this case I would like to think it is no fault of my own.) Having a boyfriend is not as dreadful as I remember it being, it’s quite nice actually. Hopefully my professional life doesn’t completely crash and burn, but I think much of that is up to me…staying motivated.

A big issue with all this layoff talk has been relocating (hence the last vague post). I was told by a colleague that if I am really serious about this journalism thing I would welcome change and try my luck at a small-town paper elsewhere. That simply is not an option for me.

If I were to leave, I would go to New York. I am in no way prepared to do that yet, and who knows if I will ever be. Kelly and I discussed it this morning: work is work. Yes, I love writing and of course I would like to be successful Of course I want to do a job I love rather than be miserably earning a living. But on the other hand I am not willing to be miserable in some ho-dunk town just to “pay my dues.” My family is here, my friends are here and the thought of not being able to drive to the South Side for my sister’s softball games is something I don’t want to accept. I love this city. I think it has potential, despite the fact that companies like mine are not making the most of that potential.

There is hope here, I would like to think. I don’t think I am weak or a loser for never living elsewhere. I love to travel, which is why it makes more sense for me to live somewhere I can afford rather than barely scrape by and never be able to leave the boroughs.

I feel like I’ve been having this NY v. Chicago struggle since high school. I just don’t want to think about it for awhile. I want to find my place here. I thought I found somewhere I could stay for awhile, but sometimes things don’t work out. It’s the way of the world I suppose.

All I know is that I’m going to finish up the next few weeks, and try to get another journalism job in the meantime.

But for now, I’m going to do some beat checks then go eat nachos and watch 30 Rock with my boy.

(The Jan. 2007 me would have barfed upon the Jan. 2008 me, but she was sort of a bitch, right?)

‘Cause I’m bailing this town.
Or tearing it down.
Or probably more like hanging around.
All that I need now
Is someone with the brains and the know how
To tell me what I want.

I had a strong inclination that this year would be awful.and I was right. Is it time for me to leave Chicago and not in a pretend, on the verge of a nervous breakdown basis? Is it really best for me?

I think it might be.

holidays.

My head is pounding. I feel violently nauseous but have dinner plans that I can’t really break. Mostly because when I told my friends I was ill, the response was: “What the fuck? Do a shot of whiskey and shut up.”

Yeah. My friends are awesome.

I am fairly convinced I have a migraine due to staring at this fucking computer screen all day. I have escaped for about 10 minutes in the last 7.5 hours and I honestly want to die. I do love my job though and am terrified of the impending layoffs.

Terrified.

Dear god I don’t want to go out tonight.

In other news, I am attempting not to completely fuck up a pseudo-relationship I am in while at the same time trying to establish said relationship. Confusing? I bet.

Something smells like dirty feet in here and for once it is not me.

Ughhhhhh

forks and knives and hospital beds

tonight i talked about broken hearts and abandoned expectations and i realized that i will truly be okay no matter what. broken hearts are better than never having loved, knowing and feeling loss is completely beautiful.

i’m a little drunk and a lot tired.

is it a good idea? i don’t know. is it ever a good idea? is it going to pop in your face and say it loves you forever and should you believe it? is it better to take something that comes easy or work at something you feel will be worthwhile, even if it isn’t you learn. what else is there?

dear god am i lucky. i’m so fucking lucky to have fighting cats and a missing conmputer keys and some debt and boy problems. that’s the worst of it.

it really doesn’t get any better.

it’s so beautiful, really, sincerely. i love my life.

uh oh

I officially didn’t know I had to “moderate” my blog comments, so I wasn’t deleting or not approving them. Some would show up and others wouldn’t. Weird.

Anyway, I’m getting back to some serious Everybody Loves Raymond viewing.

combustibles

Can someone please tell me what the fuck is wrong with me? In any order.

daniel cowman

Once again I am supposed to be writing (or sleeping) and I find myself distracted by photos of collages and old cameras on Ebay that I lurk daily but never bid on.

Today was wonderful. The first proper snow of the year…it was beautiful and I haven’t enjoyed my drive to work that much in a long time.

It was slow at the bar tonight, despite a few regulars. One of these regulars became so regular that he has become friends with much of the staff. He brought in his best friend tonight and it has been awhile since I have been so completely thrilled to meet someone. This girl is fucking adorable and smart and hilarious.

I asked her where she was from because I had a strong inclination she was from Michigan and I was right. I don’t know what it is about that state, but some of the most important people in my life (or were once in my life) came from there. I need to plan some sort of Michigan excursion soon. Midwesterners are my favorite, really.

I read this article in the Reader a few days ago about some artist (don’t really care enough to look it up at the moment) and he was basically saying that Chicago is a great place to be from but it generally just deports talent to New York, LA, London and Berlin. I really wanted to jack him in the face. I love that people think their creative talent is “official” if they move to one of those cities. Like, if you stay in Chicago you aren’t good enough. It’s comical. Just because many talented people show up in those cities doesn’t mean there aren’t ten thousand hacks right there with them, kissing the asses of artsy hipsters with the goal of making it into some pretentious gallery so rich jagoffs will pay six figures for their work, only to throw it out on the street when the next hipster of the month comes along.

I respect Chicago artists so much. I am by no means an art expert and am using the word broadly, but there is something to be said about people that stick around. People who do what they love because they love it and don’t need some elitist critic to tell them its worthwhile.

I guess I’m opening a can of worms…but basically I’m happy that people of that mindset don’t appreciate this great city. We don’t need them here anyway.

We have enough problems.

Anyway, back to the lovely snow. I was driving home from work and thinking about how happy I felt. I found myself dreading how sad I have been over the past year or so, on and off. It’s funny because when I’m sad the thought of being happy kind of pisses me off. It seems too easy, light, stupid. But now, I feel like I was just being dramatic, irritating, an asshole.

Being happy with a dash or four of cynicism is best, I reckon.

complaining

Having to work when you thought you had the day off is a total mindfuck. I need the money and REALLY have nothing better to do (other than work at a snail-like pace on a feature story I’m writing) it still makes me ultra-grouchy.

I have been listening to NPR all day per usual and just listened to an interview with Mitt Romney (what the FUCK kind of hillbilly motherfucker name is that anyway?). I have several thoughts, but mostly I just want to run that jagoff over with my car. Or maybe I could borrow/rent a truck.

I hope I make $300 tonight.

Oh, and I am going to see Kim and Kelly Deal tomorrow. The Breeders and Angela Davis in one week? I might explode from increased exposure to amazingness.

oh shit.

Yeah. I’m smitten.

[ The fooling myself isn't working. Bah.]

aftertaste

I got a message from a good friend I haven’t spoken to in awhile today inquiring about my love life (or lack thereof). I realized that I do have a thing that has been going on for quite awhile now but haven’t really talked about it because I wasn’t really sure what it was.

So I’m going to write about it. Partially because she asked and partially because I haven’t yet and I’m no good at keeping such things too private.

Basically, I went from hanging out with this person on a completely friendly level to having a bit of a crush on him. Our relationship has crawled over the past few months, and it’s not a proper relationship, rather a PG-13 makeout session that was biweekly and is now weekly fueled by alcohol and conversations about our futures, writing and music.

We tried to have conversations to figure out what exactly it is we are doing with one another, and each time it has resulted in more making out with no real conclusion. And while this is confusing to my friends, I don’t have a problem with it at all.

I like him, but don’t know if the two of us are capable of being anything more than we are. Honestly, I don’t know if I’m capable of having a real, committed relationship at this point in my life (not even a sexual relationship to be honest). Not that I’m interested in others (not the case at all). Just because I’m busy and really don’t have the time or energy to put into a fully involved relationship.

Who knows. All I know is that it’s nice having someone to kiss once in awhile, especially someone I can actually have a conversation with.

People rush things too much when it comes to these things. This is my kind of pace for the moment.