It is a strange time in my life. I keep looking around my new studio realizing that I'm completely alone for the first time. No roommates.
No boyfriend.
No cat.
No dog. Just the sound of music clawing at my ears to make me feel less alone; and surprisingly, I'm ok with that.
Everything I have fits into one, really giant room (and two closets). My window air conditioner sounds like it has nickles being thrown down onto the back of it thanks to the person who lives above me whose air conditioner drips loudly onto mine.
I can't seem to decide what curtains to hang.
Or where to put this photo.
When I walk through the hallways of my building, which use to be a ritzy hotel in the 1920's, I feel like I am walking through the run-down version of the
Overlook Hotel. I have yet to run into two twin girls asking me to play with them forever, but I am convinced there is a shining and have zero plans to ever knock on room 237.
But I have a rooftop deck that overlooks
Lake Michigan, the Chicago skyline, and the
zo
o that is fully capable of melting your heart.
It's hard for me to believe I have been in
Chicago now for almost a year and a half. On Monday I walked to
Lakeshore Drive and walked along the shore. The city was completely lit up and the lake was
glowing. I remember sitting on the beach in
California several times thinking "I am really lucky to live here." And for the first time in a year and a half, I felt exactly that, sitting on the shore looking at the city on the water.
It's a little different. It's really new. But walking around my friggin' awesome neighborhood, I fully intend to conquer this place just like any other new territory I have explored. I don't know what city I'll end up in next or when that will be, but I feel pretty good about where I am now. So here's to new experiences yet again.
...I may feel differently when the forecasted high is 10 degrees.
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