Wanna know a secret?

I write essays in my head to fall asleep.

Chicago Says, "Both."

Chicago Says, "Both."

“You wake up in Chicago, pull back the curtain, and you KNOW where you are. You could be nowhere else. You are in a big, brash, muscular, broad shouldered motherfuckin’ city. A metropolis, completely non-neurotic, ever-moving, big hearted but cold blooded machine with millions of moving parts  — a beast that will, if disrespected or not taken seriously, roll over you without remorse.” – Anthony Bourdain, Parts Unknown

For the past six months I’ve walked with purpose, with powress, with anxiety, without aim, without contention, and with the people past, present, and future among me on the streets of Chicago. I thought it would change me, palpably change me, but it hasn’t.

I’ve yet to develop wrinkles, or a striking ‘fuck you’ face as many have. I’ve also yet to develop a full sense of who I am.

With each click of my slightly too big heels, or slip of my slightly too small snow boots I think big, random, thoughts about my city and try to piece together who I am. Because, Chicago, like Anthony said, knows who it is.

Is it really that hard to figure out who gets off the train first?  

We are elks walking amongst the wild - hoping, not to get hit by a bus.

That guy is cute. So, is that one. Wait, no, no, they’re not.

I love that I grew up here, I mean not “here” here, but like kind of here.

If I had my headphones I’d turn on the perfect song for this view.

Look! Ducks!

I wonder what that man’s name is? I’m going to get him a hot chocolate it’s freezing. He already had three, but he took it anyway. I like him.

Wait a second, is that the Sears tower? It’s not as I remember it. Bad memories in there. Oh shoot, I went too far.  

When the L rolls over the bridge while we all walk on it, do we all just pretend it’s not terrifying?

Cabs are idiots; useful idiots.

That building looks like my grandfather.

Is that guy dead or asleep? He opened his eyes we’re good.

Okay, you are young, but they don’t need to know that . You know what you’re talking about.

Next stop is gonna be “GAH-LAD-STA-OHNE PARK only da head tree cars will open.”

I’m past the point of thinking train station McDonald’s is gross.

I could run right now. Run straight ahead down LaSalle, without abandon, and feel whole.

Is it better to be the girl that says ‘Excuse me’ or ‘fuck you’?

My Dear Friend Zelda

My Dear Friend Zelda

Voices That Carry: Podcasts To Get You Through The Day

Voices That Carry: Podcasts To Get You Through The Day