Excitement

I love Chicago (CHI-CA-GO).  As I leave the interview, I feel a 

                     f    t

                 i            e

weight   l                d    off my shoulders.  I can BREATHE~ 

In a town so alive it reminds me of my trip to FRANCE where strolling the streets, people watching and baguette eating was acceptable.  Here I rush from place TO place with no time for s-t-r-o-l-l-i-n-g, only fast-paced walking.  The thrill of cold air, no longer burns my nostrils; my body is warm and full of excitement.

I feel planted in this city with connections to everything I touch without experiences of the past creeping in to make their mark like Deleuze and Guattari’s A Thousand Plateaus “Introduction Rhizome”, “We will never ask what a book [or feeling] means.  We will ask what it functions with, in connection with other things it does or does not transmit intensities…” I can connect with this town and leave the past behind me, making a web of new experiences, touching every edge of this place.

This is of the new.  I have a new voice, and a new style.  Hopefully I get a call back.  Hopefully I can embark on this journey to make this a permanent HOME. 

I breathe in, my thoughts travel back to childhood, “Read it again,” I would always exclaim right before bedtime, and by the second go around, I was asleep.  Today is like that.  I want to look over it again, but I’m afraid that if I do, I will miss the new experiences right now.

http://parisfsu.blogspot.com/2013_09_01_archive.html

Juxtaposition

As I was walking from my hotel I watched the scene happening around me.  The noise of taxis, the howling of the wind, the clatter of people walking by and the L train echoed along the streets.  I was not used to this yet.  

Coming from Florida, it was just touching 65 degrees on the thermometer, and here when the wind picked up, it was a blistering cold 16 degrees.  In Florida, the streets were sprinkled with cars z-o-o-m-i-n-g around town, groups of people cheerfully skipping down the sidewalks while in Chicago the streets were clogged with taxis and the sidewalks covered with w~a~v~e~s of people hiding their emotions from the wind and barely looking around them.  

I felt like a fish;  ~s w i m m i n g~   upstream as I weaved in and out of the crowd trying to reach the tall doors of the green stone building.  It is funny though, how there can be so many people around you but yet, you feel lonely.  I liked the juxtaposition, however.  I could be left alone to my thoughts.  

I walk closer to the building where I have my first interview.  I can feel my heart tugging toward the unknown like Marlow's excitement in Heart of Darkness.  I pulled my hands from my pockets to open the brass doorknob.  The lobby was bright and warm decorated for Christmas.  A plump lady behind the dark granite desk with a cheerful smile welcomed me.  The clatter of ringing telephone and joyful conversations made me smile at the difference between inside and outside.  At that moment, the phone at the font desk rang.  With a few nods, the lady stood up, smiled and said, “He’s ready for your interview.”

http://www.fromasecondstory.blogspot.com/

These buildings seem to stretch forever, filtering the sunlight on the streets.  I walk, wind blowing past my face, trying to recall where I am supposed to go.  What street am I on, is this the right way?  Is that the same Starbucks I passed before?

I continue on, hoping to spot that one tall, silver building.  I am waiting for familiarity in signs and reflections, but there is no sign of it.  Part of me is afraid; the other is excited to be free.  Free from restrictions of usual short cuts.  I tightly clutch my city map in a clenched fist.  I want to look at it, but not in public, as if eyes are watching me, categorizing me as a tourist.  I don’t know if I should care or not.

Everywhere I look, makes me excited.  I could live here; this could be my city.  My smile brimming from ear to ear makes my cheeks hurt and my face cold, but I do not mind.  It is a sweet reminder that I am living my dream.

Finally, I see it.  That one tall, silver building is on the left side of the street.  I run to the doors entrance, feeling the warmth encircle me like a soft hug.  The smell of pumpkin coffee ~floats~ through the air.  I have made it.

http://thecourtcalling.blogspot.com/