Oh there are just so many blogs and twitter streams and I've been working so hard on "being honest" in my writing and I wonder how this lil blog is going to do in the future.
But it's nice to be here.
True honestly over here on Chicago Stories, always has been.
So truth? I want to travel ALL THE TIME.
Second truth? I love coming home.
I am a complicated woman lil blog!!!
Chicago is so astoundingly fantastic, I can't figure out why the whole world doesn't live here.
And the first couple of days home, I was depressed as hell. Because, when you're traveling, everything matters all the time. It's all new, it's all important, even if it's just a passionfruit ice shake (OH MY GOD IS IT IMPORTANT, YOU HAVE NO IDEA) and suddenly when I get home, well...it's still important, but it's what I saw yesterday. I don't HAVE to rush, if that new copy gets on Chicago Elevated tomorrow, it's not going to make that much difference.
My thoughts go back to the same thoughts they were before. My habits are the same. Funny, I'm just the same old person I was before I left.
But obviously I'm not. And obviously there is so much to home that sometimes I think it overwhelms me so I just assume it's the same.
And then I take a walk with Remo, down our tree-lined street and it's so fucking quiet I can hear myself think and we're traipsing through the leaves and I have a tour later and John made delicious fruit salad for breakfast and I think that it's all pretty good.
I feel the need to purge. But we can talk about that tomorrow.
For today, I just want to watch scary movies and crunch through leaves on the street and drink tea and know how to put money in for the train. That's good enough for today.
But it's nice to be here.
True honestly over here on Chicago Stories, always has been.
So truth? I want to travel ALL THE TIME.
Second truth? I love coming home.
I am a complicated woman lil blog!!!
Chicago is so astoundingly fantastic, I can't figure out why the whole world doesn't live here.
And the first couple of days home, I was depressed as hell. Because, when you're traveling, everything matters all the time. It's all new, it's all important, even if it's just a passionfruit ice shake (OH MY GOD IS IT IMPORTANT, YOU HAVE NO IDEA) and suddenly when I get home, well...it's still important, but it's what I saw yesterday. I don't HAVE to rush, if that new copy gets on Chicago Elevated tomorrow, it's not going to make that much difference.
My thoughts go back to the same thoughts they were before. My habits are the same. Funny, I'm just the same old person I was before I left.
But obviously I'm not. And obviously there is so much to home that sometimes I think it overwhelms me so I just assume it's the same.
And then I take a walk with Remo, down our tree-lined street and it's so fucking quiet I can hear myself think and we're traipsing through the leaves and I have a tour later and John made delicious fruit salad for breakfast and I think that it's all pretty good.
I feel the need to purge. But we can talk about that tomorrow.
For today, I just want to watch scary movies and crunch through leaves on the street and drink tea and know how to put money in for the train. That's good enough for today.
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