Kick it

So people here (I'm generalizing) make bucket lists. Not necessarily of things to do before they die, more short term, like things to do while they live in Chicago, or just things to do during the summer. I do have a list of restaurants I want to eat at that gets longer at a much faster rate than it ever gets shorter (because it really never gets shorter). I now lack the companionship, decisiveness, and sometimes budget to get through the list with any kind of efficiency.

My summer bucket list would be short, mainly because I have no idea what to do here. A year and a half and I'm still practically a tourist, with the majority of my memories plagued by circumstances I'm now forced to forget. I would honestly love to rewind back to 2010 and do it all differently. Maybe not even move here. But no point in pondering the impossible, right? Time moves forward. Only our shortcomings hold us back.

A few ideas...

BOAT RIDE: I've been on a boat millions of times, but never out on Lake Michigan.

STREET FESTIVALS: Chicago has a ton of them. I've been to very, very few.

FARMERS MARKETS: Everyone here is obsessed. I've been maybe twice.

ROAD TRIP: Nothing too fancy, something within a few hours. Just the opportunity to leave the city. I like going places, near or far. Too much of the world is worth seeing to just stay in one place. And while I never would have said I had any kind of affinity for driving, now that I don't get the opportunity to drive very often, I sincerely miss just getting in a car and going somewhere.

SIX FLAGS: I suppose this falls under road trips. Also: I love roller coasters.

OUTSIDE/ROOFTOP BBQ/PARTY: I've already done this, and I will continue to do this. I want to cook ALL THE MEAT. Having never looked forward to being outdoors during the summer (due to its unbearable heat and misery in the south) I now want to explore what summer outside is all about.

I think I also want to go swimming.

Oh, and visit some outlet malls. We can't forget retail therapy. 

OH CANADIA

So despite my job not rewarding me for any of my productive contributions, I have managed to win a few plane vouchers based on...well, who knows really, but not merit. The first (of four) I used to secure a plane ticket to Toronto. My lovely cousin Elise lives there, with her husband and two children, and she was throwing a party. And I do love a good party. I also love traveling, and I'd never been to Canada. And let's be honest, Chicago has not been a lot of fun for me lately, and I was eager to leave, even if just for a weekend.

Elise and James have a lovely home (as you'd expect, from two architects) and a lovely backyard (as you'd expect, from two LANDSCAPE architects). A mass of Irish Canadians (James' family), coworkers, neighbors, and various friends descended upon it to wish Elise a happy 40th.

Revelry


Mother's Day dinner (and drinks) celebrated on the 54th floor, at Canoe.


I had no idea going into the trip that Toronto had a shoe museum. But guess what, Toronto has a shoe museum.


Anyone who follows me on Facebook (or has met me) knows that I love burgers. And in my quick research of "where to eat" in Toronto, I came across Nota Bene. It's actually a fancy place that I was surprised served a burger, but I'm very glad they did.


Toronto was lovely, the weather was lovely, and of course the company was lovely.

I used my next plane voucher to book a flight to Baton Rouge, so I'll see y'all Father's Day weekend.

Itemized.

I like making lists. I also need them. I blame it on a bad memory, ADHD, and a deep-seated desire to be more organized. Making lists helps me accomplish things. I don't always accomplish everything that's on my lists (sometimes I forget I even have a list!), but I accomplish more than if I didn't have a list in the first place.

LIST TIME!

Read more books.
Take more pictures.
Clean my room.
See some live music.
Leave the city. 
Leave the country.
Leave the continent.
Go to the gym.
Go outside.
Cheer the fuck up. 

See, it's important to put some easy items and some harder items. You don't want to put so many items that it's overwhelming, but don't put so few that you limit your options to pick and choose. Time frame is also important. I could technically do half the things on this list today, but instead I'll give myself the rest of the year.

Just kidding.

Ha. I post about happiness, and then shortly after become very unhappy. I guess life is about ups and downs. You need one to appreciate the other, or something cliche.

So. New project. Happiness is too lofty a goal at the moment, I'll settle for "not depressed". I can keep putting one foot in front of the other, and eventually I'll get there. It's going to hurt, but eventually it'll hurt less.

Quick backtrack: When I wasn't yet this unhappy...I turned 31. So I'm a little bit older, a little bit fatter, a little bit richer, and...that's about it now. In contrast to last year's huge weekend crawfish boil in 85 degree weather, I opted to be a little more low key, since Tuesday was not nearly as exciting a day, and 45 degrees didn't lend itself to anything outdoors. I had a steak-and-martini lunch with two friends, then met up with 3 other friends for a little vino and small plates in the evening. Had a fancy dinner the following weekend. People gifted me with purple things, glittery things, camera things, and monetary things, and I'm thankful for it all. My cousin Ariana also sent me Grandmother's fur coat, which was a delightful surprise. It has her initials embroidered on the inside pocket. She's the woman I take after physically, who also loved purple, and lived til she was 89. If I turn out to be half the woman she was I'll be fine. Still got a long way to go though.

Someone took a picture of a happy birthday moment. Hopefully I'm smiling even bigger next year.

Project.

So it's been a whirlwind of a year. That's a blanket statement that alludes to a lot without really saying anything at all. And I don't plan to take the time to say it all. But I can say something going forward.

For 8 years I recorded the events of my life in a blog (not this one obviously) and I really enjoyed it. I enjoyed being able to look back on what I'd done (my memory is horrendous, so it was often a surprise to be reminded of fun adventures I'd had). I enjoyed sharing my experiences with others, not in a bragging way, but I like to engage and it was a way to engage with a lot of people at once. I enjoyed the connections I made with these people, with their own blogs, who read mine and vice versa. Some of these people are still really good friends, and despite living thousands of miles away and in most cases having never met them, they know a lot about me, in some cases more than my own family, and have been around through thick and thin.

I guess that's my meager explanation of why I enjoy(ed) blogging. And I'd like it to stop being a past tense pastime.

Also: I'm reading The Happiness Project. It was recommended by my best friend, had decent reviews on Amazon, and my Kindle Fire was really itching to be used more anyway. I am relieved that it is not (at least, not obviously) a self-help book. I'm encouraged by the fact that the woman who wrote it, who "did" the happiness project, was not an unhappy woman to begin with. She wasn't pulling herself out of some depression, she was just looking to improve upon an otherwise perfectly healthy and happy life, because there's always room for improvement, and who the hell wouldn't want to be happier? She did all the research and reading so I don't have to, she's just writing about her methods and her success. So enough of that sales pitch. It's an easy read. It's not super preachy. Pick it up if you'd like.

Anyway, I don't plan to embark on any kind of official happiness project. But I can recognize the need for improvement in a few areas, and I certainly wouldn't be disappointed by more happiness. I put up with way too many things that I shouldn't put up with, to avoid confrontation, but also because I have somehow developed an uncanny ability to just deal with things how they are. All too often I find myself getting comfortable with my current situation and just sticking with it. It's always taken significant events (Hurricane Katrina, unemployment) for me to make significant life changes. Highly undesired wake up calls if you will. I don't like highly undesired wake up calls, and I don't see the point in waiting around for another one just to give me the initiative to make a difference in my life. I don't have any remarkable goals, and I'm not necessarily looking for a remarkable difference. But I can always be better.

It's my life, I'm in control of it, and if I want it to be more awesome, I have to get off my ass and make it more awesome.

Hello? *crickets*

Well I'm the lamest excuse for a blogger ever when it comes to this one. Trying to change that though, stay tuned...

Katrina Recollections: Who I Am.

A little less than six years ago, I returned to my "place of residence" only to discover it had been flooded with about 8 inches of water. In the grand scheme of things, this wasn't much. I recognize(d) that. While I lost countless material possessions (and certainly a good number of sentimental possessions) I did not lose a house and 20/30/40+ years of memories. And I've always been grateful for that.

While collecting from my apartment what I could of my non-ruined things, I also collected the non-ruined things of my roommate at the time. Her name was Katie. She's from Colorado. She had come to New Orleans to live with her sister, and then when her sister moved away, she had stayed. She had connected with a part of New Orleans that left her unready to leave just yet. Our situations kept both of us there. Our jobs, our relationships, our interests. So we stayed. And then a storm came, and told us to go. Katie evacuated with me to Texas, to my parents' house. And that first day my parents left $100 for each of us out on the kitchen table, so we could enjoy ourselves in that foreign city, while our humble abode was subtlety filled with a yet unknown amount of water. We went to the mall. We went bowling. We ate Mexican food and asked for "to-go" cups for our margaritas--only to remember that's not allowed in most states (God bless Louisiana liquor laws). We momentarily ignored reality so as to avoid what all that entailed: starting over, practically from scratch.

Katie never returned to New Orleans. She drove her car straight up from Houston to her hometown of Greeley, Colorado. Which is why I mention that I collected her things. She wasn't there to do so herself. So whatever wasn't wet I stuffed into my mother's minivan. That ruled out most furniture, and anything on a bottom shelf, but left a variety of hanging clothes, shelved shoes, and anything that wasn't yet overcome by multiple feet of mold (arguably, not much). I boxed it, but Katie wasn't even home to receive the box. She was already living and working in Steamboat Springs. And she never expected much to be salvaged anyway, but I sent her the biggest box that I could. Anything and everything I could rescue of hers. Her sister opened the box and gave her a run down over the phone. Thanks to her low expectations, my box displayed like Christmas morning. And my box included a burned CD (this was 2005, people).

If you're unfamiliar, let me introduce you to Marc Broussard. He's from Louisiana, from the city of Carencro, outside of Lafayette. He has a decent following, but I guess isn't a superstar. But the album I burned, appropriately titled "Carencro" has a song, also appropriately titled, called "Home".

Fast forward, to any number of years after Katrina, and you will find me spending at least a long weekend in Colorado, visiting Katie (and another friend of ours, Brandee). It's a state I've been visiting since I was 5, but once my family graduated from their yearly ski trips, I took it upon myself to return, not only for that much needed ski trip, but to visit the amazing people I had since met.

Back to Marc Broussard. During one of my Colorado visits, I found myself in the extended cab of a pickup truck, with Katie, her boyfriend (now fiance), and a number of fabulous people who had joined in our "Sportcoat Sunday" event at Quincy's (they serve cheap/delicious drinks and cheap/delicious steak, you should go). Katie was driving because somehow she'd avoided getting as hammered on doubles as the rest of us. I guess that also granted her access to the cd player. And Marc Broussard's "Home" came on. And somehow, to my complete bewilderment, everybody knew the words. I was in fucking Colorado, a thousand miles from home, with my pre-Katrina roommate and a bunch of her friends, on an icy Sunday night, driving a snowy Colorado back road, tummy full of meat and vodka, and random people were singing along to a song by a beloved (by me) Louisiana artist? WTF?

I cannot even describe to you the chills I experienced.

To this day the song still gives me chills. Not necessarily because of that experience, but more a combination of that, the fact that it's a pretty great song, and that the concept of "home" (not to over-pun) really hits home with me now. Chicago is not where I'm from. I can't even say it's where I belong. But it's where I am now, and I plan to make the most of it. I identify more with Louisiana than I really ever have before. Most of my life I was just "there", I didn't have to "belong". But now that I'm removed, I realize there's too many precious things about it for me to let go of. Sure I hate the heat, and I can't say the job market or politics are really winning any bonus points with me. But the people. And the food. OMG THE FOOD. And the people. Plenty of Americans identify with their ancestors in the form of a (singular) foreign country, but the Louisiana I know is such a melting pot that that would be impossible. My technical breakdown would be English-Irish-French-Cajun-Spanish-Italian-American. Try saying that five times fast. I don't even know what it means to be any one of those things.

But I know exactly what it means to be all of those things. I know what it means to be me. And I know what the chills feel like. And I hope they never go away.