Week One: Check

This is where I work now.  I got this picture off Foursquare.

So, I thought a lot today about what exactly this blog entry was going to be about.  At first, I was going to go with a segment I'd call "Chicago Clichés."  But I could only come up with two that I've stumbled upon so far: there actually is quite a bit of wind, and a gal I work with just got a part-time serving job at a bar that she was really excited about until her second shift last night when she had no other choice but to come to the realization that she is working at a mafia front.  I mean, the 70 year-old boss is fearfully called "The Don," and handled several unexplained "business transactions" in the back room.  Also, one of the cooks cursed a woman out for complaining about her burger and then explained to his new server that "We're a family here.  The customer is never right, we are!"  So, it's really only a matter of time before she finds a finger in the ice bin or hears thumping coming from the trunk of The Don's car.

Then I thought I might talk about some more of the differences I've noticed about Chicago, but really that list hasn't gotten much farther than the streets run on a grid (thank the merciful Lord for that) and there is a "Chicago water tax," which charges an additional five cents for a bottle of water for no other reason that can be explained to me other than Chicago will tax anything they can - which is why gas prices and sales taxes are the highest in the nation.  Super.

But then, as I was walking home tonight, I was counting my blessings and decided to let that be my theme: My blessings.

Now, I am far too aware of how easy it is to sink into the "poor me" phase.  Being such a social person, moving to a giant place and being so alone can really get me down very quickly.  But the fact of the matter is that I have a home, a job, and food in my cupboards.  Which is a lot more than many people can say these days.  And for that, I really do feel blessed.  And do you know what else makes me feel blessed?  All of the support coming from my friends and family.  These friends of mine that I cannot even fathom how I got so lucky to have.  To my knowledge, I have not saved any of their lives or personally saw to it that any of their dreams come true.  I have not scooped up all of their broken pieces and held them together until they healed.  I have not done a single thing that I feel could justify all of the wonderful things that they bring to my life and all of their energies that they put toward making my world so incredible.  The only reasoning I can come up with is that God saw, years before I ever did, what big dreams I would want to chase, and He hand-delivered the greatest support system a wide-eyed dreamer could ever want.  Because - and this I can guarantee - I would have never had the guts to do what I am doing without the encouragement and faith that I receive constantly from my loved ones.

But more specifically, I would like to provide here a quick list of all the Chicago-based blessings that God has been dropping into my lap, helping to make this chapter of my life as painless as possible.  The ease-free circumstances of my housing, job, and move aside, here are a few more ways JC got my back this week:

1.  For some reason, one of my biggest concerns when packing for my move was my raincoat.  It was just a cheap, Old Navy raincoat with a huge tear at the pocket, but I did not want to have to spend the somewhat chilly spring and autumn days of Chicago in my wool coat or nothing.  Unfortunately, I was unable to locate it and had to ship out with Ol' Wooly.  C'est la vie.  NOT!  JC got my back, fools!  I get to my new place, open my new closet, and waiting for me is a good-as-new London Fog raincoat in my size.  WHAAA??!!  Yeah, that's right.  Bee (my roommate), tells me that whatever is in the closet was just left behind and is mine if I want it.  So it looks like I am one fancy raincoat and little purse richer.  Cha-ching.

2.  My new Starbucks just had a major renovation.  Half a million dollars and they reopened their doors the day after I landed.  Logan Square now has the nicest Starbucks in the city and I apparently avoided the pretty ghetto store that it was.  And I can walk to it.

3.  Today was supposed to be my day off, but last might my manager asked me to come in for a pre-close shift.  Since I have no friends or any pressing matters to attend to, I agreed.  My roommate, Bee, unexpectedly had the day off, so I got a ride to work.  And then the store got so slow, I finally had a chance to really talk and connect with one of my coworkers.  Another guessed that I was in town for Second City based on the way I whole-heartedly laughed at his impression of another coworker's dancing, and invited me to see his friend and a former Second City student perform Sunday night.  AND THEN, I ended up chatting with a customer who is a sketch writer and went to Second City and is starting a podcast theatre and gave me his card and MAYBE NOW I FINALLY HAVE A FRIEND!!!!  Okay, truth time: That incident is probably what I have been getting at this entire post.  I really want a friend.

4.  The cab from the airport was $40 cheaper than anticipated, my bedding was on sale, other roommate gave me an umbrella the night before it started raining, and I am finding money everywhere!

And so, in conclusion, God knows the plans He has for me.  Plans to give me hope and a future.  And outstanding friends.

I Live in Chicago Now

I'm here, I made it.  I've been a Chicagoan for 30 hours, now, and I am really filling the burn.  I have learned that: Wal-Marts are illegal in this state, you can buy liquor virtually everywhere, pedestrians never have the right of way (I've been honked at a total of 4 times in the 45 minutes I was out of the apartment today), recycling hasn't made it this far east yet, and, as my kind and wise roommate informed me, I shop like a suburban (Chicago dwellers loath those who take up residency in the 'burbs) and if I don't keep my cart at my side at all times, it will get shoved into the next aisle and I will be verbally reprimanded.  Oh, and Dunkin Donuts is to Chicago what Starbucks is to Seattle.  Which grosses me out, to be quite honest. (But don't tell the natives!)

My new apartment is lovely and old in all the best ways . . . expect for maybe the wiring.  I now reside in a quant brown stone walkup, on the second floor.  And, despite being in the center of the building, our ceilings are very high, which gives me plenty of room up on my lofted bed (built by the Steppenwolf set designer for an actor who used to live here).  I live in Logan Square - not to be confused with Historic Logan Square, which I've already decided not to spend much time in past dark - and it's a fantastic neighborhood where the streets are lined with old trees and three story walkups each uniquely designed (I even found one with some unfortunate brick work which I will henceforth refer to as The Swastika House).  Walking down these streets, I get the feeling that Peter Pan may pop out at any moment.  With their well maintained iron fences and three or four story balconies, I image that Wendy and her brothers could be living in any one of these houses.  It's quite lovely.

Now, when I was on my way here I brought with me Rachel Dratch's new book, Girl Walks into a Bar, to read on the plane.  I had saved it for my trip, so I could get myself all pumped up about moving to Chi Town and chasing my dreams.  But with the lack of sleep, bouts of homesickness, and extreme fear bubbling within, the last thing this book did was get me pumped.  Or make me feel good about my choices at all.  Where Tina and Mindy have only made me want it more, Rachel was able to blow out my fiery ambition like it were a birthday candle.  As we began to make our decent, and I was halfway through her Chicago chapter, I read: "A lot of people move out to Chicago thinking 'I'll do Second City, and then on to Saturday Night Live!'  You soon lose your singular dream and the odds of actually getting on SNL are too slim to hold on to such a specific vision."  All I could think was, TURN AROUND!  I WANT TO GO BACK!  THIS IS STUPID, I SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THIS!  PLEASE, JUST TURN THE PLANE AROUND!!  And when those tires hit that runway, it was like a giant iron door closing behind me.  Alright, Kalah.  You're in this now.  It's sink or swim.


And so, while most of yesterday I felt like sinking, I managed to weakly tread water.  And today, I took my first backstroke toward real honest to goodness survival.  I made some food, walked the neighborhood, opened a bank account, and tomorrow I start work.  No matter how much I didn't want to hear it, I know that Rachel was right.  And I've always known.  SNL can never and will never be my singular dream.  Writing in my only firmly placed goal, and where or with whom can be figured out later.  Reading on, Rachel affirmed my new attitude: "You also realize that there are many other pathways to make a career in comedy after Second City besides SNL."

I will be meeting her at her book signing on the 30th.  Now that I've calmed down, I guess I won't be pulling her hair and yelling at her for not publishing her book one month sooner so I could back out with just cause.