Revolting Door

Three weeks in wintery Chicago is MORE THAN ENOUGH!!! The first two weeks were tons of fun but now I’ve been sick for a week and it doesn’t seem to get any better, damn it. I think I’ll go to Florida again in the end of February, for a week or two, to catch some sun, breathe some warm and healthy ocean air, walk by the beach, look at the palm trees, cruise on Ocean Drive in a sexy rental car. All this comes from a person who lives on private loans and friends’ loans. I don’t even feel bad about it anymore. I know I shouldn’t say this but these days I’ve been thankful I don’t have a job! I would probably be a ball of irritation and stretched nerves with pneumonia right now if I had to commute every day in this weather AND maintain healthy relationships with retards and tense and stressful jerks at work. Not to mention the backpain. If I can find a source of income, even if it’s non-traditional, I wouldn’t care less if I don’t have a fucking 9 to 5 job. I met a friend from school for lunch today, during lunch hour, at a food joint downtown, and I was literally hit and overwhelmed by the tense vibes of all the people there, waiting in line, sitting around, trying to gulp their food as quickly as possible so they’re not late going back to their miserable little cubicles and their demanding retarded ass bosses. By the time I left downtown, I was dizzy, irritable, and just couldn’t wait to get on the train to my neighborhood. I can’t believe I lived there for almost a year… My friend was telling me about her life in Seattle before she moved to Chicago and how much more relaxed and laid back their culture is, how much warmer and friendly people are up there. I’ve heard this about that area before, Oregon also, and I’ll definitely make it one of my next stops on my travel list.

I woke up early this morning after we stayed late last night opening gifts. I’ve been having the sniffles and a sore throat in South Florida and I can’t wait to get better so I can enjoy the sun and meeting some new people. Sitting on the swing out on the porch, listening to the neighbors waking up to a good old Tina Turner song, neighbor singing along “…who needs a heart when a heart can be broken” This and the palm trees and the cool ocean air, and the fact that it’s Christmas, I don’t know what to make of it all. It’s good. Except for the congestion. And the lifestyle of the family I’m staying with. They have run out of creativity and spark in their life. Watch too much TV, spend too much time at the computer, read too few books, drive everywhere, hardly ever exercise and their biggest meal of the day is the dinner. Man I made it sound horrible, it’s really not that bad cuz they’re not overweight or anything and they’re smart and relatively happy and fun people, the times I’ve visited them before. I think they probably just miss home. And have slipped down the slippery slope of typical American life including the consumerism part - last night they exchanged a lot of gifts I would honestly never like to get or keep in my house (if I had one :P). I recently read that one of people’s basic needs (along with food and shelter) is transportation. I think that’s what I miss here. I wish I had a car so I can go to the fucking beach at least. I feel a little trapped but I’ll make the most of it, ask for rides when I really need them. I’ve been reaching out to friends of friends through online and offline networking, trying to find people to hang out with, but really with the thought of asking for jobs in mind. I mean I really *do* want to meet new people and hang out and make new friends but getting a job and paying my loans is just more important right now. Or so I have chosen to think. The end of the year is somehow never the time I feel like honestly making recaps and resolutions.

The flight back from the Sunshine State to the Revolting Door was bathed in sunshine pouring through the little windows of the airplane. With a mind and body notably calmer, a wisp of a smile in the corners of my lips, I dozed into a thought I’ve never had before - for the first time I felt like I do want to grow old. Back in high school, and even during college, I talked about how I only want to live while I’m young and then end it all before I start getting old. I was looking at the three rows of passengers in front of me on the airplane - happy old people, preserved, delighted that they are where they are, some coming back from visiting their grandchildren, others setting off to do just that - and I thought to myself, it would be so great to grow old gracefully. So I decided - if I do get old, I’d dye my hair blond, and I’ll take good care of myself. I want to be one of those delightful and charming old ladies with lively blond curls, healthy tanned skin and victorious attitude - an old lady that makes you wanna grow old.

Three days into coming back and going to &^*&^w@)(#*$o@#(*$&#*(r(#*&$k#(@*&$ I’m Same Old Me only a little tanned. One of these days I’ll go into detail about why exactly I hate it and what it does to me because some people don’t understand. I’ll list every little detail. For now - I dread it. What stops me from quitting is that most of the people there are nice, and even though they think I’m an idiot, I do realize there are way too many work places out there where people suck. A bird in a hand is worth two in a bush. Am I really being sensible, or am I just a wuss to quit?