I've been in about a 4 month funk of writers block and nothing seems to be inspiring me.
That is the worst.
I'm moving again in four weeks. This will be eighth apartment in eight years - I don't even know how that's possible. My third already in Chicago; and then I come to the realization that I've already been in Chicago just over two years and I have no idea where the time has gone. I still feel new here. I still don't know the city like I thought I would. And in some ways, I'm more alone than when I first arrived here; I'm not sure how that's even possible. Summertime in Chicago is the worst time to feel like you're in the middle of a friend drought. There is so much going on, and so much to see. I guess I could start attending festivals and pass out flyers that say something like "Free Friend. Inquire right now - look up."
Another apartment. Another year lease. And I'm starting to wonder...when the hell am I going to ever go back home to California? Or will I? Timing seems like everything the older you get; responsibilities holding you in place. I'm not 20 anymore. Picking up and just leaving isn't just a trivial argument with your folks and a chance to prove someone wrong about whether or not you're going to make it somewhere new. It's an adventure at 20. A commitment at 25. A foundation at 30(ish).
I'll be honest. Whether it's here or there, or anywhere else -
I might be just about ready for solid ground.
Posts
