It only took five minutes to walk to the lake from my apartment yesterday morning. Another minute to walk in knee-deep snow to reach the water, and three minutes of blinking incessantly to say, pretty, muy pretty, got it, I'm done. It isn't quite picnic season yet so I wasn't ready to lay out a blanket, set up my snacks, and write, have a quiet morning by myself at the lake. But it has been sunny lately, and from what everyone tells me, that won't last. I'm trying to enjoy it as much as I can while I can.

In some way, living in Santa Monica helped. We had many grey, foggy days with ample cloud coverage while the rest of the city was blasted with sun sun sun. I wore an extra layer. I'm wearing many extra layers, and not a day goes by when I don't have feathers on and sticking out of my clothes, thanks to my comfy down jacket, and layers of caking lotion that really does nothing to help save my skin from looking like a Podling whose essence has been taken (geek check). 

Exhibit A, see photo below. (I did say it was early morning right?)

Address me as #816

I am a Chicago resident. More so than I was before because now, I have my very own address, my own domestic sphere--a furnished studio apartment on the eighth floor of a "vintage" building. 

It feels oh so good to have my own tiny place in this world (again)!

I'm not smack in the middle of a bustling downtown area where the constant squawk of the four-door yellow bird kills the quiet; I don't have that kind of money. And if I did, it still wouldn't be for me. I'm on the southside of the city with windows looking north. I love love love the view. I can see a sliver of the lake and the Sears tower. I see rooftops covered in snow, balconies, and city lights that register life in the distance. 

Last night was my first night, today my first full day. And what a day it is. Obama is now our President, and his call for change will now have to be a daily chant that echoes from the white house to the streets where soon enough I too will be asking for change, but on street corners and highway exits. This girl needs a job and quick. 

I won't tell you about how hard it is looking for work in a new city (I just did). Nor will I go on and on about how I much it slows me down having to walk on sidewalks that are buried under ice, snow, and frozen dog pissshit (I'll just mention it).

I won't even talk about how I moved my stuff out of my friend's house in -10 degree weather, huffing and puffing, feeling my breath and sweat cover my face in ice, while thinking that I had some serious mocos the whole time when it was only the hairs all the way up in my nose that had frozen stiff. If I talked about any of those things, it would seem like I was complaining about the cold and living in this city. Honestly, I've  yet to have a day where I've said "why the f did I leave LA?" I'm still naively enchanted. 

hawo. wiw you hiwah me?

I walked into this swanky looking restaurant/jazz bar today, ready to hand over my resume with a smile that was neither flirty nor fake, and with just enough personality that showed professionalism and pazazz. I was ready, but my face wasn't: it hadn't finished thawing.  I sounded- and must have looked- like I just had a truck load's worth of botox.

But that is what happens to a slightly exposed face when walking around in 5 degree weather I guess. Too bad this cold won't freeze and break off fat and wrinkles like it will my fingers and nose.

Changing Channels

Going back to LA after having left it only forty days before seemed a bit antithetical to my "big move."  I wasn't gone long enough to miss LA. The people in it most definitely yes, but not the city, my apartment, driving, the weather. Chicago still has its novelty; there is so much I haven't seen or done. But the holidays being what they are--expensive, stressful, full of calories and those  awkward few moments of holding a pose while waiting for the timer on a camera --should be spent with family. I am lucky enough to have a very smart (and handsome) boyfriend who knew it would do me some good to go home (thank you again my love!!!). I didn't have a white christmas in the  snow-packed midwest where temperatures reached -30 whenever wind whipped around. But I did manage, quite easily, to have a wonderful Christmas and New Year's Eve in a surprisingly chilly LA.

I left on December 17th dragging my suitcase through a half foot of snow and returned on the first to just a hint of snow. Whatever is left has been pushed off onto the base of trees and the edge of sidewalks and buildings. The pushing aside and against things has formed mini, grimy icebergs all around the city. (note the bottle of Bacardi Gold, Corona, and cigarette butts) Snow not so pretty anymore. With the sky being gray, no leaves on trees, and the dirt

 conquering grass, snow will be welcomed. And then after a few weeks (months) of snow....aaaah the cycles of life, passage of time, and the ability to adapt! One cannot, rather, should not, be too resistant to change. It's gonna happen whether you want it or not. Be prepared. Carry an umbrella. Or your stunna shades.