Internet Grapes

a long winter

When we drove out of Chicago, on our way to Fort Wayne, I composed a letter to the city in my head.  Dear Chicago, I thought, I'm so sorry it has to end this way.  No hard feelings, Chicago, I thought.  I love you, I will always love you, and I will cherish the memories from our years together.  You're not perfect, but of course I'm not, either, and so I don't blame you.  I have blamed myself, but I am trying very hard not to do that anymore.  It turns out that we are just not a good fit, or maybe it's just that the timing's not right.  I think you're beautiful and amazing, and I hope we can be friends.  I've never lost interest in knowing you.  I'll come to see you when I can, although I know it will probably never be the same. 

The sun was shining, making the surface of the lake sparkle brilliantly.  It was Chicago's answer to me, I thought - giving me farewell diamonds.  I stared at the water, trying to preserve every detail of the view for myself forever.  In that moment, at least, I felt at peace.

I have spent a lot of time feeling like leaving Chicago was a mark of failure, not because living in Chicago is the ultimate mark of success (although I admit that in the wake of all of this I do have sort of a New York, New York "if I can make it there I'll make it anywhere" feeling about it), but because in the end, we didn't feel like the decision to leave or stay was really our own choice, but one that we had to make.  If we didn't take the job offer Geoff had gotten - or some other job in some other place besides Chicago - we could imagine a scenario where we ended up homeless.  Looking back, I can still imagine that, although I think we are too lucky and blessed to have ended up on the streets, whether or not we had a home of our own, since we have family and friends who I believe would take us in, if it came to that.  Still, in just over a week it will have been two years since my last day of employment.  We have still not sold our condo in Chicago.  It's been almost two years since Geoff and I had any health insurance.  During this time, I cashed out my 401k.  We have no savings or retirement funds of any kind.  We own nothing of any significant value, except the Chicago condo (which we only "own," owing on its mortgage loan approximately three times what it is now worth), Geoff's piano, and the not-yet-paid-off Honda CR-V (the Beetle doesn't count as something of significant value, that's for sure).  We owe hundreds of thousands on student loans. 

On the other hand, every time I feel too sorry for myself about any of this, I can't help but also feel grateful.  (It doesn't always get rid of the self-pity, but at least it tempers it.)  Two years without health insurance has resulted in zero unpaid medical bills; we've been all been remarkably healthy.  We live in a house with both heat and central air, an upstairs and a downstairs, a bath and a half, and each daughter has her own bedroom!  We have our own front porch and our own fenced in back yard, and we live in a quiet, safe neighborhood, one where Katie even has a good friend her age just down the block.  We never pay anything for parking, we go out to eat regularly, we have cable tv and cell phones and internet connections.  We have enough food and enough clothes and even enough toys.  When the cars have broken down or needed work, we've had enough money to pay to get them running again, and although we don't have health insurance, we do have car insurance.  We exchanged presents at Christmas, and we can buy presents and cake for birthdays.  I think of all of the other people who have been unemployed as long as I have - especially those of them, like me, who were the primary wage-earners for their families - and I am sure that we number among the luckiest. 

I feel like an imposter, though.  These days I'm at home with my kids, doing all the housework and laundry and most of the cooking, but I'm not a "real" stay at home mom, because I didn't make the choice to be, and if I could get a job that I liked, I'd rather not be.  I love having more time with them than I had when I was working (especially since I had a 2-3 hour round trip commute most days), but I'll be honest: this much time is too much, especially since a huge amount of the time that I have available is not spent with them - Katie is in school for most of each weekday, and Annabel is at preschool three days a week.  On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Annabel is at home with me, but she usually naps for 2-3 hours, and even when she's awake, she is pretty independent - she usually spends an hour or two entertaining herself in her or Katie's room. 

I worked as a lawyer for nearly 11 years, but I'm not a "real" lawyer, either, both because I'm not working right now (and haven't worked in 2 years), and because if I have my way, I won't work as a lawyer again.  Yet people ask what I did, or what I do, and I find myself admitting that yes, I am a lawyer, because of course, even though I'm not, I also am. 

I would like to be a photographer, but I'm not a "real" one.  I have plans to start an official business here in Indiana later this year, but for various financial reasons, I won't be doing that for awhile.  I'm not making any money from photography.  I take very few photos (other than ones of my family and my surroundings).  And I'm very aware of my lack of experience and training and equipment.  (I also dream of being a writer, but it's hard to feel like that's real, also, when I only write a few times a month at the most, and usually much less than that.)

I imagine, as I make my way through the world, that others see me the way I've been seeing myself: as an example of wasted potential.  As a failure.  As a dabbler in many things but an expert at nothing.  As a lazy self-pitying unmotivated ingrate, who needs to sit up and smell the coffee, or the roses, or something, anything, as long as it makes her realize that maybe this is as good as it gets, and if she doesn't figure out how to appreciate it soon, her life's going to be over before she knows it, without her ever having figured out how to get it (anything) right. 

Since I am imagining that others see me this way, it might not surprise you to learn that - despite the fact that I often lonely - I have become something of a hermit, self-conscious and somewhat shy around others, especially others who ask me things like what I do for a living, or what I want to do for a living, or who want to compare notes about being a stay at home mom. 

So many days are so difficult, even when I feel like they shouldn't be.  It helps when the sun shines.  It helps when the days are warm enough to enjoy taking a walk, even a quick one that's just around the block.  It helps when I have upcoming plans to look forward to. 

In about a month, Katie and I are going to go to London (England!) to stay with my mom, and when I believe that that's really going to happen, I get pretty excited.  I am also really looking forward to this summer, when I assume I will still be unemployed and be able to be home with the kids.  I enjoyed our time together last summer.  I am looking forward to maybe taking a photography class or two at the university here, maybe next fall, so that I will feel more legitimate, more confident, more like I know what I'm doing. 

This winter has been hard.  I am ready for it to end. 

"(E)ver(y) (D)ay of the (Y)ear" (November 7th)

"(E)ver(y) (D)ay of the (Y)ear" (November 7th)
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

I got there a little bit early, I thought, so I took a few pictures before I went in. It was a little bit before 9. It turned out that she was already there, at the bar, drinking wine and reading a magazine, looking pretty and happy. I don't have any idea when the last time was that I started my day before 5:47, got to work a little after 6:30, and still went out for drinks until after 11:30. I was tired, but it was good. The presentation went well - I felt prepared for it, and everyone seemed on an even keel - and once that was over, I felt so relaxed that I realized how much of my anxiety was related only to the presentation. A whole lot of it.

So I had a long but productive work day, and then I came home to my family. I talked to Geoff before he left, played with Katie and put her to bed after he left, and went to see Wendy when he returned.

I'm feeling much better.

Stop (November 6th)

Stop (November 6th)
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

And then there are those days when you just feel like sitting down and feeling sorry for yourself.

You know that the toddler is tired and still a little bit sick, and you know you are, too, but even when you remind yourself of these things, it doesn't really hurt any less when she fights you at every turn, won't stop crying, pushes you away, tells you she'd rather have you wait outside the car than inside the car with her. And frankly, since all she does when you're in the car is cry loudly at you, you'd rather be outside the car, too.

You know that certain people at work are moody and inconsistent, and that it doesn't have anything to do with you, but it doesn't help you feel any less anxious about the stupid presentation that you are supposed to give tomorrow.

You know that nothing is really that bad, that a good night's sleep (which you may not get tonight, since you need to get up extra early tomorrow to finish getting ready for your presentation) will make things better. You know that tomorrow is another day.

Still, you can't say you'll be sorry about the end of this one.

something completely different (November 3rd)

something completely different (November 3rd)
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

When I woke up and saw that the sky was a bright shade of fuschia and the streetlights had turned into circular rainbows, I knew that things were going to start happening to me now.

The blue sky of the following day did nothing for me. "Oh, how very quaint," I said.

Randolph Street (November 2nd)

Randolph Street (November 2nd)
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

Some people hate to drive in Chicago, but I've never really been one of them. I don't drive to work very often these days, but if I could park for $5 a day, I'd drive to work every single day. I love driving down Lake Shore Drive - watching the sun come up or go down, seeing what color the water in the lake is today, glancing at joggers or bicyclists on the lakefront, even going past the familiar exits. Lawrence is at 4800 (one of two exits for our apartment when we got married), and Wilson at 4600 (the other of the two exits), and Montrose at 4400, and Irving Park at 4000. There's no exit at Addison (3600), so usually traffic for Cubs games backs up at the Belmont exit (3200). Fullerton at 2400 (Lincoln Park Zoo), LaSalle/North Avenue at 1600, Michigan at 1000, Chicago at 800 (where I used to exit to pick up friends at the law school dorm).

When I drive to work now, I exit at Wacker, and I take Wacker to Clark, which is the street my building is on.  Unless I'm running late, and unless traffic is really, really terrible, I pretty much enjoy the whole thing. (I don't feel the same way about the interstate expressways.)

When I was a little girl, maybe 5 or so years old, I wanted to be a bus driver. A lady bus driver, since that's what I would be - a lady. I thought it would be great to drive around all day, in charge of that huge vehicle, taking people where they needed to go.

I don't hold any illusions about driving a bus anymore, but I do still like to drive. I still like the feeling of being in charge of the big machine I'm in, taking me where I need to go. I wouldn't have to take the Wacker exit to Clark to get to work. I could keep going down Lake Shore Drive to Randolph, and then head east on Randolph, instead. Or, if I was really going to shake things up, I could not even head to work at all. If I wanted to, I could just keep driving. I could go down past Buckingham Fountain and the Field Museum and McCormick Place. I could drive around in circles. I could stop, or go, whenever, and wherever, I decided to turn the wheel and hit the gas.

Just knowing that I could do that makes me feel a little bit powerful. Never mind the fact that so far, if I drive south on a weekday morning, I end up taking that Wacker exit and driving myself to work. If there comes a day when I just absolutely can't take the thought of doing that? Well, then. Who knows where I might end up?

River (October 25th)

River (October 25th)
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

I drove to work (again) yesterday so that I could drive home after a post-work meeting with an attorney from Minneapolis. As we walked over to the restauraunt, I could smell steaks in the air. I couldn't stay for dinner; I had to be home around 7. At about 6:30, I walked back to the parking garage and put my ticket in the automated machine. The machine, which speaks in a creepy and obviously computer-generated voice (rather than a recorded one), informed me that my parking fee was "thirty six hundred fifty dollars." Yes, that's right. The screen confirmed it. I would taken a picture of THAT except that I was too terrified to do anything but push the cancel button. I took my ticket out of that machine and put it in the neighboring one, and it told me that my parking fee was twenty dollars. Twenty dollars for ten hours of parking has never seemed like such a bargain.

The Chicago Marathon was last weekend. On Monday morning I was sitting at a red light when a group of pedestrians wearing marathon medallions around their necks crossed in front of me. I guess they noticed that the light was about to change, so they started to hurry. When they tried to pick up the the pace, they moved like stiff senior citizens. With very painful arthritis. I smiled at them, and the one who noticed me smiled back.

Those are my two little Chicago stories from this week. That Chicago River sure is pretty sometimes, isn't it?

caged (October 17th)

(October 17th)
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

These pumpkins are not bad. They are simply misunderstood. Just because we don't like their behavior sometimes doesn't mean we don't love them!

Train (October 16th)

(October 16th)
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

The el was jampacked today, even before 5. Maybe everybody had a Monday that seemed as long as mine did. Even though I waited until 2 to eat lunch, the afternoon dragged.

They've turned on the heat for the little enclosures, even though the signs clearly state that heat will not be provided until November 1st of each year. Maybe there is an alternate basis for turning on the heat - the first snow of the year, which was several days ago now. At least the platform seemed cozy and warm today, even on a cold rainy day.

Some days I get on the train and I look around at everyone and wonder about their stories, their days, their histories, their families. Other days, like today, I just crowd on into whatever space I can fit my body, and I read my book.

Fixture (October 11th)

Fixture (October 11th)
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

Misty and I ate at the Walnut Room tonight. I almost said that we ate at the Walnut Room at Marshall Fields, but there is no more Marshall Fields - it's Macy's, now.

My grandma used to tell me about going downtown each year at Christmas time to see the window decorations at Fields'. The place where I've worked for the last five years is about 2.5 blocks from the building, and every December I've gone over to see the themed displays. Last year's theme was Cinderella.

They'll probably have Christmas displays in the windows this year, too, but it's not Fields, and I have to admit, it won't seem the same.

Misty and I were friends in high school, but have seen each other infrequently since then. She is living back in Pikeville now - I last saw her for a few hours at lunch, when Katie was a few months old. I pulled out my camera at dinner and told her about my photo a day project. She seemed to like the idea until I pointed the camera at her.

"Ok, that's enough," she said after I'd taken three pictures of her (one of them including her hand up in front of her face, to stop me from taking more). "Do you do this with everyone?"

I told her no, I usually reserve this kind of behavior for friends and family. We laughed.

View from the lakefront on the far north side of Chicago (October 5th)

View from the lakefront on the far north side of Chicago (October 5th)
Originally uploaded by jessamynnorth.

It's not really true, what I said the other day about not seeing the poetry of or the cinematic qualities in Chicago. Sometimes the composition of the bright cloudy sky and gray choppy lake and far off skyline (the John Hancock Center prominently featured in its midst) looks so beautiful that the first thing I think when I look at it is about how I'd like to capture that view so I can share it with somebody else.

It doesn't usually work the way I want it to. I adjust curves and contrast and color and levels; I add and adjust layers. I finally reach the point where I don't want to make any more changes, even though it's still not quite right.

You should know that this afternoon the view from the lakefront on the far north side of Chicago was beautiful. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't delicate, and it wasn't colorful. But it was bold and strong and invigorating, and the wind was so quick and so cold that I couldn't stop shivering until after I'd gotten back in my car.