Chicago: Day 3

The past three days have begun the exact same way. Wake up. Trudge through the snow to Starbucks. Come home and get ready for interview at (insert name here) Staffing Agency. Lazily drink coffee, get dressed, and put myself in an 'interview' mindset. 'You are good at interviews, you're highly employable. This will be easy, it always is.'

Go to interview. Feel at ease while talking with recruiter. 'See this is easy.' Take tests. 'Uh oh.' Feel trepidatious when the overly friendly recruiter doesn't seem as enthusiastic as before. 'She's not looking at me in the eye.' Leave (insert name here) Staffing Agency feeling defeated and without leads.

Start walking. 'Oh shit, what am I doing here? Maybe it wasn't time to come back yet. What if I can't find a job? Even worse, what if I find a job that I hate? What if there isn't a job out there that would make me happy? What if I become the type of person I don't like? What job would make me happy? I don't even know. Why can't I just make enough money acting? That's going to be hard. I should go back to school. It was stupid not to finish school. What if it's too late? If I started school now I wouldn't be done until I was 30, and if I went to grad school 32. Is that too late to start a career? What about kids? I don't want to think about kids. Did I just waste years of my life? Am I running out of time? Out of time for what?'

Start crying while walking down busy downtown street. Pull the brim of my hat low over my eyes and silently cry on the train, not caring if anyone notices. Get back to Arnie's apartment and cry, not so silently, because no one is home. Make lunch. Get on Craig's List and look for a job.

Tonight I went over Tim's apartment (soon to be 'our' apartment) to watch 'The Departed.'

Tim: So are you going to do that thing where you point out all the places you recognize?

Me: Oh yeah this was filmed in Boston...I forgot.

So I started doing it.

Me: Ooo! Govermentment Center! The State House! The T!

Tim: The T? That's what they call the train? That's stupid.

Me: It's like us calling the train the el, right?

Tim: No. The word train is mono syllabic. It doesn't need to be shortened. Excuse me I going to hop in my C and go to the S for some M and E. Fucking dumb.

And later,

Me: Ooo! That's the bridge! I can't remember it's name.

Tim: Do they call it the B?

Arnie took this picture of Doug and me yesterday. The night before we stood on the same corner but couldn't quite muster up the energy to say goodbye so we decided to have breakfast in the morning before my flight home.

Doug: Give me call later, let's do something tonight.

Me: Ok! Wanna go to the gym?

Doug: Sure.

We hugged two more times after this picture was taken.

See you later Boston.

Had my last mainstage show at the Theater tonight as well as my last Midnight show. The Midnight show is pretty laid back and the audience is so drunk they don't mind if you take pictures of them while you're on stage.

Afterwards the cast and some friends (including Arnie who flew in just to fly home with me) hung out, ate cake, and had some awkward and some nice goodbyes.

Eddie: Back to Chicago. It's too bad cause I was just starting to like you. It takes me about seven months to warm up to a person. I'm glad you're going back to Chicago. This place and Boston is nice, like a rest area. You take a look around, relax, enjoy it for a bit, but then you get back on the highway. Seven months is just enough time.

Packing.

The value of the pictures and clippings on my closet door has rapidly declined; and happily so. Still, I have taken them off neatly, being careful not to rip anything and placed them in the folder I used to bring them here. They'll find their way onto a fridge in Chicago and will ironically serve as a reminder of Boston.

Had my 'exit interview' with Stacey P. tonight.

Stacey P: I have something for you. Our flag football jerseys came in the mail. Here's yours and if you come back in the fall you can play!

Later I showed Jeremy my jersey.

Jeremy: I got mine too but I couldn't remember what number I asked for. I think it was number 8 because that was my number when I played soccer in kindergarten. That was also the last time I played sports.

Tonight the Theater hosted their annual holiday party...about two months late.

We ate Mexican food, played trivia, and sang karaoke. At the end of the night I said goodbye, and realized that some people I would not see for a very long time, if ever again. Some of them might move to other places, maybe for a job, or a relationship, or just to leave Boston and they may not come back. These goodbyes can be awkward and usually come with morbid jokes; which they were and did.

And in case you were wondering, the man on the right in the wig pretending to play the guitar is the Karaoke King of Western Massachusetts. He is also Norm's father.

Time to clean out my small bit of real estate.

5 things I would be sad to never do again:

1. Be woken up by a marching band.
2. Eat a canoli from Modern Pastry...or Linguini with Calamari from Artu...or pizza from Ernestos. I like to eat.
3. Make a change to gain some perspective.
4. People watch in the Boston Common.
5. Go to a game at Fenway...even if David Ortiz is there.

Tonight Callahan, Weiss, and I watched the Celtics game at home.

Callahan: My butt is really asleep.

Me: Maybe you should get up and walk around.

Callahan: That's a good idea! See, what am I going to do when you leave?

Me: I don't know. Maybe your butt will fall off.

Weiss: I don't know what you two are talking about so stop it.

And later Callahan started working on a presentation for work.

Callahan: Oh no. I just sent a 400 page document to print. It's printing right now at my work.

Weiss: Can't you abort it?

Callahan: No my work is pro life.

This sent me into an uncontrollable laughing fit.

Weiss: Stop it.

It looks like someone else is moving too.

Me: It's an easy plant. Indirect sunlight, not fussy, needs water once a week, and his name is Blagden Phosphorous III.

Taylor: You're going to have to write that down.

5 Things I'd be happy to never do again:

1. Roll my ankle on a cobblestone side walk.
2. Be asked why I haven't made it to the Cape for a weekend getaway.
3. Talk about David Ortiz
4. Explain my accent.
5. Talk to Arnie on the phone.

With the first snow on the ground, I can understand why this is not the biggest moving month of the year in Boston.

Tonight we did a special Valentine's Day show. Boston got hit with a snowstorm all day and night but a lot of people still showed up with their dates, and most people were wearing dresses and suits, with salt covered shoes and wet rings around their pant cuffs. It was cute.

The stage manager brought all the ladies of the cast roses. After the show I went home and set them on the kitchen table while Weiss was cooking dinner.

Weiss: Uh...did you uh...buy yourself roses?

Me: What? No! The stage manager at the theater gave them to all the girls in the cast.

Weiss: Oh good, cause I was going to say...that's kinda sad.

A recent email from James, a friend from college who lives in Chicago:

So I read your entire blog today. By entire, I mean day one up until today. All of it, read every word, examined every picture, felt every emotion (this part assumes I have feelings other the malice), and I consider myself closer to you already. Not so much in a distance sense, but in a 27 year old woman, taking poorly lit, out of focus, random pictures, and incessantly rambling on about your newly adopted town, sort of way.

Being a Cubs fan (this was my choice) allows me to cope with disappointment on a scale that most people will never understand. A consequence of this is tolerating White Sox's fans. Reading your blog reminded me of the feeling I had sitting next to Ozzie Guillen at the Bulls game a few weeks ago. Wow I'm sitting next to (the very jerry curled) Ozzie Guillen and I could care less. Thousands, possibly tens of thousands of White Sox's fans would kill to be in this seat. Then I realized, this is good, no, a great seat. Sitting next to someone like Derrick Lee, yeah being a Cubs fan, that would be awesome, but taking this seat away from a White Sox's fan…even better!

That's the feeling I get when I read your blog/life….blife, if you will. It's out there for the whole world to see (let's be real…what, 7-8 people?)! Most of these folks could care less, but it's your friends and family that are the ones who would kill to be in that seat next to you (and after reading your blog, I assume a few of these nut jobs already have). I hope those chawda-heads appreciate the seat they've got out there. Oh, and three things:

1. Stop breaking digital cameras, 3 strikes and it's back to Polaroids
2. Don't screw with my pier-bed
3. Nice Sweater

I know it seems strange but this email could not have come at a better time.

Note to self:

If you get on the train after a long day of temping and you see a poster of yourself, take a picture of it for posterity. If a curmudgeonly woman sitting in front of the poster gives you an icy glare, smile at her. If she turns around to look the poster and then passive aggressively shakes her head and grumbles without looking at you, just keep looking at her and smiling.

I asked Arnie to bring me a good book to read since I gave all of mine away when I moved. He brought me 'The Long Goodbye' by Raymond Chandler. A story about a lonely private detective in L.A. trying to find the truth about the murder of a friend.

And segway....

Part of the reason I moved to Boston was to find out if Chicago was the right place for me. I told everyone in Chicago I only planned on staying a year but in the back of my mind I thought, maybe it will be more. If I end up falling in love with Boston I would stay.

In these six months I have fallen in love with Boston but I’ve fallen even more in love with Chicago. I didn't know it could happen but it did; like a parent learning they can love their second child as much as the first.

And in the end I am happier with the life I have in Chicago soooo....

Wait for it...

I'm moving back. Or rather, I'm moving home. A home that this time around, I choose.

This will be a short goodbye. I'll be moving in two weeks.

Chicago to Boston to Chicago.

Arnie came to the theater to see my show tonight. I'm happy that he got to see it, but it's still a little nerve racking. Not because I think he would judge me but I want him to see that this move and the job, the reason we're in a long distance relationship, is all worth it.

So I asked the box office person to put him in the third or fourth row, it would be too much to have him in the first row where I could see his face. No thank you. Put him in the shadows and maybe I'll forget that he's there.

In the second sketch of the show I am on stage by myself talking to an ATM machine. I walk out on stage, the lights go up, and there he is...in the first row, arms crossed, smiling at me. Sheesh.

So I gain my composure, begin the scene, which is silent, and I hear a beep. I know that beep. It's Arnie's camera powering on.

Regain composure. Still doing the scene in silence. Out of the corner of my eye I see him aiming his camera close to the floor, trying to get an upwards shot of me. Crap. That's not going to be flattering. Stay in the scene! Ah! This is a good scene! Don't blow it!

In the end I was fine with the show. I would have benefited from being a little more relaxed, but Arnie seemed to like it.

Later, Arnie sat in on the Midnight Show. There was a very drunk guy in the first row that started yelling profanities during one of Arnie's scenes. He handled himself well; in fact he seemed to not have noticed at all.

Yay! Yay Yay Yay!

Arnie flew into Boston late last night. Whenever he comes in town I feel like I should show him around the city, but I don't know too much about the city so I ask around and we end up doing 'touristy' things. You know, stuff I see locals doing when they have friends in town. I can pretend.

So we went to a museum, saw a movie, and went to The Oyster House for seafood. Here is Arnie trying his first steamer.

Arnie: Jeez, I look like a bear eating.

And later we met up with Doug for drinks and started talking about Chicago.

Doug: I don't get it when a city has two baseball teams. I mean, I would think people would like both.

Me: Well, both teams represent more than just the sport. Chicago was and is very segregated and the teams, who are kind of across the tracks from each other...well actually the old mayor of Chicago, literally built a highway to segregate the white and black people of the city, and anyway Comiskey and the White Sox became symbol of working class....

And then I looked at them with their eyes glazed over just staring at me trying to feign interest. I felt like BJ talking about his home improvements.

Me: I can't believe I'm boring you both with baseball at the same time. This is weird.

Arnie: (turning to Doug) So, the cruise! Are you excited for your trip?

Boys.

Look who got engaged. Valentine's Day came early for Rachel and Brian W. Very early actually, they have been engaged for about a month but I haven't seen them in the same room since. Brian's job (he's a physicist at MIT during the day) sent him to Cambridge, England for a few weeks, shortly after he popped the question.

Rachel: I talked to Brian today. This is good...so he working, and needs to use the bathroom so he goes to look for one. There wasn't one on his floor so he went one floor down and found a bathroom. So he's looking around and thinking 'This is a REALLY nice bathroom, what's going on?' Then he realizes he's walked into Stephen Hawking's private bathroom.

This led to a series of very tasteless jokes that I'll choose to leave off the blog for now.

Congrats.

Two things weighing on my mind.

1. Doug Leaving.

2. Spring Training.

Here is my train of thought this evening while riding home on the T.

Me: Blah. Blah. Beep. This is a Lechmere train. Lechmere goes to Micah's house. Beep. Boop. What if I just called him and met up with him. I don't see him enough. Blah. Beep. We should hang out. That would make me feel better. Bleep. Boop. I'm too tired right now. My phone at the bottom of my purse. I can't get it now. Blah. Blah. Is that? Yep, that's Micah getting on the train.

Micah: Hello.

Me: Hello. Where are you off to?

Micah: Home. Wanna come? Let's hang out.

Me: OK! This is the funnest thing that's happened to me all day!

So I went to Micah's and we hung out in a very Micah fashion. Sitting on the couch, watching Monty Python, trying to figure out if Rex Grossman were an animal or Sesame Street character which one would he be. Hanging out with Micah is like entering a vortex. You have conversations you'd never have with other people and you hang out for a loooong time. I'm not completely convinced that Micah doesn't disappear in mid air when I leave.

Here he is holding a pair of clean socks and a picture from a friend's wedding. He's pointing to Pete. I had no idea they were friends but they are so, pending Pete's corroborating story, Micah may be real after all.

What!?!?

Come on Gmail smart ads, give me a break.

Superbowl Sunday.

Will invited Alison and me to a party with a bunch of the actors from ImprovBoston. We were assured that it was a 'Bears Party' and it was, but for the majority of the people it was an 'I Hate Payton Manning Because I'm a Patriots Fans So I Am Rooting For The Bears Party' which I'm fine with, whatever you need to get there.

So we tasted different chili various people made, including one made with rattlesnake (which I politely declined) and watched the game. Soon we noticed that all the people who were rooting for the Bears (and not for Payton Manning's demise) were huddled in the corner together.

Well, us...and Gregory. The guy in the neutral grey turtleneck denoting no affiliation, who was born and raised in Indiana and the only Colts fan. He was respectful of the majority and very quiet through most of the game, but every once in a while he would accidentally cheer very loudly and then quickly hold himself back, like a football fan with tourettes.

After the game (if I can call it that) I talked to Will briefly about the end of his science experiment with the testosterone gel.

Will: It's done. I got my last check in the mail yesterday and I'm almost back to normal. At least I didn't grow boobs like some of the other guys did.

Tonight Harry performed in his last show at the Theater.

Coincidentally I was not scheduled to perform (there are 7 actors, but only 6 are in each show so one person can have the night off) so I got to see the show from a very different point of view which was fun.

Afterwards there was a roast in Harry's honor. I've never been one for roasting simply because I'm not good at it, but Harry had a great time. It, of course, was sad too but I don't think that the reality of this will set in until next weekend. First Doug, now Harry. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself.

Good luck Harry, I miss you already.

Dear Boston,

Happy six month anniversary.

Love,

Sarah

Apparently Boston was the site of a thwarted terrorist attack yesterday.

Turns out it was a guerilla marketing campaign for Aqua Teen Hunger Force; a cartoon. But it took the city of Boston a full day and half a million dollars to figure out the boxes placed all over the city were not bombs, but Lite Brites with pictures of the various cartoon characters. A bomb squad even blew one up.

The same marketing campaign has been in Chicago for two weeks. No one in Chicago thought they were bombs.