...I became a Chicagoan. I'm re-posting a blog entry I wrote on my 17 year anniversary of moving to this city of big shoulders:
Posted 9/7/07: "Seventeen years ago today, I moved to Chicago. 1990, age 23, no job,
knew 2 people, none close friends, with the exception of an ex-boyfriend
but that didn't count except that he did introduce me to Rich...so I
guess that does count! My plan was to stay 1-2 years and then move out
to the west coast. I was so scared but also very excited to finally be
in a BIG city. I was so excited to live only blocks from Lake Michigan
(never mind that I was too naive to know how edgy my neighborhood was
back then) Rogers Park area Kenmore & Granville. I was filled with a
feeling of adventure not knowing what great things...and not so great
things, awaited. My 10 day stint at an art foundry (I thought this was
going to be my dream job)...left me frustrated and sad, the man I worked
for told me "you are never going to make it in Chicago". So I'm a
little emotional...so what? I'M STILL HERE. I think it just added to my
resolve to find my own way. Then I became miss interviewee and corporate
temp...I had to buy a suit (I didn't even own a skirt) and start
wearing panty hose and heels - killer, for a gal fresh out of art school.
I found a job by December as a convention and meeting planning
assistant. I worked there for 6 years. None that I regret, in retrospect,
as it later proved to be invaluable to running my own business. Which I
guess I better get back to...Happy Anniversary to me!"