Zero to Heaven in Seven

It's hard for me to gather my thoughts when they're especially deep, or anything beyond what I want to eat, what I like, what I'm feeling. But I rode my bike to the lakefront today and sat on a bench in front of the marina and the hazy Chicago skyline. Between reading Kerouac's The Town and The City and text messages from my mom, I got to thinking about San Francisco and my relationships there and how they differ so much from the new ones I have here in Chicago. You see, I think the thing is, people in San Francisco (not all, but most) are too concerned with themselves and their own interests and their own wants and needs that they don't want to learn anything new, they don't want to talk and share thoughts and philosophies with each other or anyone at all for that matter. In the last month that I've lived in Chicago, I've felt more accepted than I have living anywhere else. People like to have intense conversations--whether it be about religion and what God wants for us or about nihilism and anarchy and regardless of whether I agree or not with whomever I am conversing with, my opinion is questioned for the purpose of understanding myself and making absolute certain that I believe what I said and in the end, that opinion is accepted as valid. My closest friends in Chicago are people that believe things that are vastly different than what I believe and have interests and ideas that I'd never even heard of, never mind had my own opinion of, before I met them. And all we need is just the slightest basis of a common interest. Not even multiple. Just one is all we need to get along, to have a spring board to learn more about each other and maybe over time develop more common interests based on our own enlightenment.

If you are friends with people that have only the same tastes in music, literature, religion, love, life, then there's nothing new to learn, certainly not about yourself. The people I have met here have encouraged me to question everything I believe, have turned me on to new music, new literature, new ideals, new interests and new ideas and understandings of who I am and where I stand in the world. It's not that people in San Francisco were drab and boring and mean, not at all. It's just, the only close friends I had there were people I lived with and saw every day and sort of became normal. Here, there is a sense of excitement when I have plans to go out with someone because who knows what will happen, what I will learn about myself, my society, the city, the world. It's an incredible feeling of exhiliration living here where I previously knew nobody. I love Chicago. Moving here was probably the best impulsive decision I've ever made.

My foot hurts. Can I go to the nurse?

I don't get why I care so much what people think about me. It's not even all people, just specific people that I like. I think the people that I like are the people that would never be friends with me. And if there is any hint of a mutual like--platonic or otherwise--I promptly ruin it by jumping on and smothering it out of just sheer anxious excitement that I can deal with not having it every day. Did any of that make sense? But I need to stop thinking about everybody else, and stop worrying about this person maybe liking me, or wanting to hang out with that person. I mean, I've got plenty of friends in Chicago already and many events and opportunities to make more coming up. So I should just concentrate on other things. Like writer's block. Now, I know it makes me sound like a whiney melodramatic "writer" snob, but I guess it's a real thing. And I have it. My story has been stuck where it is since I packed up my typewriter in San Francisco.

I mean, why do I want to be friends with people that don't want to be friends with me anyway? Why am I so terrified of rejection? I'm pretty goddamn awesome and if other people don't see that, that's their loss, right? Yeah, that's it. Take that! I need to stop worrying so much about the internet too. The internet, my friends, is not at all real life. This post is silly. My legs hurt from biking a ridiculous distance last Saturday. I need to eat some protein.

Fuck this! I'm going to Quiznos.

I'm 20 years old. I have a real job. And by "real" I mean an office job that I work at 40 hours a week, 2 hour commute and health benefits included. It's not all bad as far as jobs are concerned. I mean, I get to sit here at my desk right now and post a stupid blog because there's nothing else to do. What sucks though is just that--that there is nothing to do. And when there is stuff to do it's boring, menial, mindless work. Which, again, not that bad because it's low-stress. But it's silly and not at all mentally stimulating. Also, I live paycheck to paycheck which seems ridiculous for someone that has a "real job." Like right now, for example, I don't have the money in my bank account to go food shopping because I owe the State of Nevada $182 for doing 85 in a 65, I owe the city of San Francisco $65 for not putting change in the meter (and then forgetting about the ticket) and the State of Illinois is currently in possesion of a check for $143 for the Title to my car. This week, my paycheck was shorted $400 that I was going to use to--foremost--buy toys and new litter for my cat, Tom Waits and then go grocery shopping with and hopefully have some cash leftover to go to Dillinger Four tomorrow and then pay my ridiculous cable bill (living by yourself is not as awesome as it seems).

Now, of course I'm going to buy my D4 ticket in about 20 minutes and instead of going grocery shopping I'll shell out $7 to go to Quiznos and get myself a 6-meat stack with a drink and chips. See that's the problem right there. I don't have enough money to go food shopping, so I'm just going to take care of my one meal for today. Coincidentally if I ate a 6-meat stack with a drink and chips every day, I'd be even more poor than I am right now. Probably to the point of not being able to afford that cable I spoke of earlier. But that's what I've been doing the last month, eating much to expensive and much too delicious fast food--because I can't afford to go grocery shopping. So it's more than just living paycheck to paycheck but living day to day. Maybe I'll be able to buy groceries tomorrow, maybe I'll have $10 in my bank account so I can eat that day. But anyway, I think the point of this is that I am terrible at budgeting my finances because really, this job pays really well. And the cost of living in Chicago is so cheap that I'm borderline rich compared to my San Francisco friends.

I feel like I had more to say than this. I guess I don't.

The original scroll of Jack Kerouac's On The Road is coming to Columbia College in October/November and seeing as how I'm reading Edie Kerouac-Parker's memoirs of her time with him, this is more than fitting. I couldn't be happier, really. I guess I did have more to say.

Great Lake!

Back from a 4 month hiatus and living in Chicago. Oh, Speak Easily, how much there is to tell you about.

Then we sang loud in the dying streets

I would just like to take this opportunity to quickly say that I am a very happy person. I only seem to post blogs when I'm feeling down or particularly negative or confused about a certain subject. But most of the time I'm happy and laughing and smiling. I think when I'm feeling differently is when I have a lot of emotions that need to be expressed whereas when I'm happy and content it's just the norm so there's no need to express it. Does that make sense? Even with all the sadness and personal tragedy I've experienced, I can usually look deep enough and find humor and happiness and beauty in all of it.

Take that.

I'm asking you on a date for the rest of your life

You don't know what you got til it's gone.

I've been thinking about you a lot. So much a lot! I can't believe I knew you and loved you and experienced you. I feel so honored, to be honest. Four days! Four days was all it took to create a friendship that lasted the rest of your life. I can't believe I actually had to guts to hop on a train and meet you--an almost complete stranger--in Manhattan after only knowing you for a few hours. What a strange coincidence it was that we were in the right place at the right time.

Remember sitting in Union Square and being left alone and just talking. And I think that's when you told me about your dad, that he died when you were 17. And I told you that my dad too, except I was 14.

And then that night we sat on my mom's back deck and we drank beer and talked about life and the end of the world. The apocolypse! We talked about the apocolypse and I demanded you stop because it freaked me out. Do you remember?

Sitting outside the side door and having a conversation in Spanish about why we couldn't have sex that night. And you told me that your relationship was doomed to fail and I should've known then that mine was too.

Two shots of 99 Bananas and another conversation on my mom's front stoop in the warm, humid Long Island night and you kissed me. And I kissed you back and it was the most wonderful makeout session of my life. And I was scared that my mom, or my sister or your friend would catch us. But I didn't care because it felt right and it was right and I knew it was right.

And you promised! You promised me that you would move to San Francisco and you would take care of me. We'd have a beautiful apartment somewhere--anywhere--and you would pay for what I couldn't afford. You said "I think we'd make a really good couple" and I said "When my boyfriend and I break up we'll get married." and you said "I'll be dead by 30." And of course you were.

But you loved me! You really really loved me and everything there was to love (and hate) about me, you loved it all! You wanted to take care of me, you would do anything in your power to make sure I was happy and well taken care of. All you cared about was me.

I'm sorry things were so twisted and I'm sorry hindsight is so clear and I'm sorry I thought I was in love with something that ended up being a failure. It was you I was in love with, you I was weant to be with. I wish you were here with me right now. I will never love anybody the way I loved you and I'm sorry I was too blind to see what was right in front of me, waiting. That too...waiting you were waiting for me.

I was so lucky and so stupid! I love you!

You came to me like a dream, the kind that always leaves just as the best part starts

It ends so abruptly.

So far, so good. I'm updating from the wonderful Rosenberg Library at City College of San Francisco, still waiting for my laptop to come back to me. I feel pretty somber right now, blank I guess, but not in a bad way.

I cried about my dad last night for the first time in a couple of months. I was writing a piece of my story and caught the picture of him on my desk, the one of him and Chuck E. Cheese from my birthday party. Then I looked at other pictures of him and my family. It's been about 6 years since he was diagnosed and still, it all feels so surreal. Maybe that's the benefit of living away from my family, I can't see them so I can't see he's not there so it just feels like he's there and I haven't talked to him in a while. Does that make sense? I thought about it, though, last night. The fact that he's dead. I guess it's just one of those things that you never get over, when a parent dies. Maybe you can't ever get over it when anyone close to you dies. I talk a lot about getting over Jonathan's death and Daniel's death but really, maybe I never will. It's still early for them, so I rightfully shouldn't be over them yet. But who knows, maybe I will never stop being sad about that. I look back on my life with my dad fondly, so many happy and tingly feelings when I think of him. He was a fantastic dad, what a great dad. Yeah, it makes me happy to think about what we had but sometimes it does make me sad. It feels good to cry over him.

This week has been pretty great so far. I decided to take today as a lazy day so rather than riding my bike the mile to school and then the 6 miles to work and back home, I'm driving. My muscles are killing me, I guess in a good way. But I think they need a chance to recouperate before I start riding that far again. I kind of like secluding myself, so long as I have a say in it. Not that anybody's been trying to call me and get me out of the house or anything, but yeah, I can think of all that's been fucked up and be kind of angry or upset about it but not be sad that I'm angry or upset. I still hope things can work out. I hope my guy friends are right when they say that all this will take is time. I hope he was genuine when he smiled at the idea of starting over. I want him back and that feeling.

I'm still hating my job, a lot but it's been more bearable this week, maybe because the job itself coincides with my want to be alone or something? I don't know but I have an interview/test thing with Amtrak on the 14th. I can only pray to whatever being in the sky there is that it all goes well. Dream job plus an AA in liberal arts. A kickass job and not having to go to school anymore. Could anything be more perfect?