England Blog

For the next six weeks I will be spending my summer in Worcester, England. Thus I felt it fitting to create another blog just for the trip. So for the next six weeks I will be posting to that blog, which is lavisitstheuk.blogspot.com. I encourage you to check it out. Also, I apologize for the lack of design of it...I promise I'll work on fixing it :)

Chicago: You're the Inspiration

(Written earlier this week when I had no internet.)

48 hours from now I will probably be on a train heading from Chicago, Illinois to Michigan City, Indiana with my best friend/boyfriend. It will be my second trip to the city, the first one only occurring this past spring break. For some people, especially my friends at Ball State, it's hard to imagine that I'm going to say this, but…I'm really looking forward to it.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, Chicago and I weren't exactly on friendly terms. It's not that I ever hated Chicago, or even had a dislike for it, it was the mere fact that I had never been there, nor did I have the desire to ever go. I didn't see this as any big deal until my first year at Ball State. Within the first semester, I let it slip that I had never been to the Windy City, the New York of the Midwest, and oh boy, was that a mistake. Let me tell you something. When it comes to Hoosiers, for some of them, Chicago is a very big deal. Huge. And when you tell them that you have never been to their precious city AND that you had no plans to ever go, it's just simply unfathomable to them. Never had it ever been so clear to me that I was at such fault for never going to Chicago. I couldn't believe it. I mean I’m from Ohio. Cincinnati in fact. To Cincinnatians, Chicago isn't that big of a deal. I mean sure, I have a lot of friends back home who've been to Chicago. Many of them like it. And sure, a few of those friends have given me the "you've never been to Chicago?!" reaction, but in most cases it was just never been a big deal. But at Ball State? You would've thought it was a sin! I had no idea that when I crossed the border of Ohio and Indiana that I was walking into the criticism of the Chicago-lover/enthusiasts.

Of course, being the stubborn-ass that I am and choose to be, and the fact that I defend my hometown as if my life depended on it, I fought back. I took the criticism of being a Chicago virgin and tried to come up with every excuse you could ever imagine to defend myself. From explaining how disgusting deep-dish pizza sounded to the fact that it just wasn't and could never be THE New York City (although I've never there either…oops…) I started on a rant that dwindled all the way down to a pure hatred for Chicago. That's right. I hated it. Even though I had never been there, barely knew anything about it, I knew that I hated it. I wrote a paper for my English class titled "Dear Chicago" in which I wrote a series of letters to the city explaining why I hated it and why I hated even more that my friends loved it. One time I got into a shouting match, yes, a shouting match, at a Mexican restaurant in Detroit over Chicago. Of course, this was started by a friend who knew how to push my buttons and just wanted to get a reaction out of me for the heck of it (I got some pretty strange looks from other tables that night). And it certainly didn't help when I went to a Reds game last summer against the Cubs and there were probably more arrogant Cubs fans than Reds fans (however we did win the game and I will never forget watching a big fat old Reds fan going over to shake hands, in a mocking sense of course, to the big fat old Cubs fan who had been annoying the entire game. It was a pretty sweet taste of victory).

But I think what really got under my skin was the fact that I felt ashamed for having never visited the city. Like an outcast, I was embarrassed. And I was even more frustrated when my Chicago-loving friends seemed to insult my city. They had no desire to go to Cincinnati because it wasn't Chicago. It's not as big as Chicago. There isn't as much to do. We have Newport on the Levee, they have Navy Pier. We have the Great American Ballpark, they have the classic Wrigley Field. They have a Starbucks on every corner while I wander from street to street in search of my favorite coffee shop. Chicago's better. I get it. But why does that mean that the city I love is the one that takes all the hits?

In hindsight, they weren't being as cruel as I had originally taken it. And they didn't make me an outcast for my lack of Chicago experience. They were just simply expressing their love for their favorite city and wanted me to know what I was missing out on, so that I can go and experience it too. And the only reason they "insulted" Cincinnati, was because they were being realistic. Cincinnati isn't as great as Chicago. They were just stating the facts. In fact, a few of my friends had visited Cincinnati for the first time in their lives before I made my visit to Chicago, and even though they don't like it as much as Chicago, they really enjoyed it. One friend got back from the Flying Pig Marathon this year and said to me, "I forgot how pretty Cincinnati is. I really enjoyed it." I was so happy.

So what made me change my mind about Chicago? What turned me from hating it into possibly loving it? Why is it once upon a time I swore I would never go, and now here I am about to embark on a 7 hour car ride to go to Chicago for one day, and be excited about it?

Well for starters, I fell in love with my best friend. Big surprise, he loves Chicago. His dad once lived in the Marina Towers and he use to visit. He loves his Cubbies and his Blackhawks, and of course "da Bears". And as much as I try to be little miss independent, when you date someone, for some reason you take on their interests as well. Not always…I still don't play ultimate Frisbee even though it's one of his favorite pastimes, I can barely sit for ten minutes to play a video game, and with the exception of the Blackhawks, I will never cheer for a Chicago team (Pens were out, so I had to cheer for someone. And Lord knows that being a Penguins fan I could not stand to see the Flyers win the cup). The list goes on, but you get the idea.

But what else? When I did finally decide to visit, I had one of two hopes: I hoped that I would either really love it, or I would hate it. I either wanted to be completely wrong, or completely right. I was really hoping to love it though. I wanted to go back to Ball State and tell all of my friends I was wrong, Chicago is as great as they told me it would be, ask for their forgiveness and live happily ever after. So I went. And I liked it. But unfortunately, I did not love it. And as we boarded the train to leave, even though I knew I'd probably be back again, a part of me thought, "Well, I've seen it, and if I never make it back here again, then that would be okay with me."

But fortunately I am going back. And I'm pumped for it. Not just to see Joe…but I'm actually excited for Chicago. And I owe this all to (don't roll your eyes), Julia Roberts.

Just this past week I found the movie My Best Friend's Wedding, one of my favorite movies of all-time. And so I popped it in, and suddenly I remembered, it takes place in Chicago. And of course, since I have now been there, watching the movie took on a different meaning for me. I saw the buildings I remember seeing in real life. I watched Julia and Michael float down the Chicago River. I watched her race down Michigan Avenue to chase down Michael after kissing him in front of his bride-to-be. I saw Chicago bright and sunny and full of life, and I suddenly yearned to go visit again.

And so with Joe starting work later this week, and I will be flying off to the United Kingdom next Tuesday, we realized this would be our best chance to go in the summer. It will also be my last chance to hang out with Joe before I leave. At least 7 long weeks until I see him again. Of course, 6 weeks in England will probably fly by in the wink of an eye and I will think back to this moment and go, "Why on earth did I think it would be long?! Why would I ever want it to go by quickly?!" But when it comes to matters of the heart, time is often worse than distance.

And so this Wednesday I pray for sun and warmth and a wonderful time. I hope to be getting on board a train next to my best friend, who unlike in Julia's case did choose me, and head back to his house where the next day I'll head back to mine, to start my packing for my next big adventure. I will miss Joe terribly…but I know that not seeing him is only temporary. I just hope that Chicago will give me the inspiration to trust that everything will be okay.

Yes, Chicago…you're the inspiration.

Thursday doesn't even start, it's Friday and I'm bored

I'm beginning to regret this post before I even write it. Only because I know one day, in the "not too far, but certainly near" future that I'll look back on this and want to throw up. But that day's not here yet and so I blog.

I miss school.

But not for the reasons you might be thinking of. Sure, absolutely I miss my friends. I miss hanging out with them at the house and the top-chef cookoffs and the dance parties and watching them get drunk off of tequila shots. I miss my boyfriend. A lot. I miss seeing him almost everyday, running into him on the street, studying next to him at the library, and waking up next to him on saturday mornings. I miss my staff. I miss us laughing at nonsense and coming up with silly ideas and venting to each other about work and the things we wish were different. I miss ball state. But what I really miss right now are...*gasp*...classes????

You read that right. I actually miss class. Well, not all of my classes. Actually, now that I think of it, I'm not sure if there are any classes that I really do miss. So allow me to change my phrasing...I miss work. I miss working for my classes. I miss the research and the studying and the writing. I miss that exhausted "when is this ever going to end?!?!" feeling that still brings some amount of satisfaction because I know that I accomplished something that day. Even if it was just completing my spanish homework or taking an hour to study econ, I miss working for my grades. For my school. For my career.

I guess this is the boredom talking. All semester I kept looking forward to this moment, the moment where I'd be at home or in new york, just completely relaxed with all the freedom in the world and time on my side. This moment where I can go lay outside and not worry about the time I'm wasting. Or to accomplish the things that I wanted to do all year but never had time for, like trying a new recipe, re-organizing my room (which I proudly state that I finally accomplished) or making my halloween costume next year (I'm planning on being a Steelers Cheerleader and I need to make my own costume...that or I'm going back to Macy's and buying the hot pink dress I found and going as barbie...obviously I have a lot of time on my hands).

Here I have the time to read all the books I want to read, catch up on all the movies I haven't seen, and more importantly do some more writing. Like real writing. As in researching and interviewing and drafting and talking to editors and actually getting published. THAT is what my summer is suppose to be about.

And yet here I am. Bored. Counting down the days til England. Missing Ball State. And actually wishing I had class.

My my, how my outlook on life changes when boredom presents itself. Today is Friday and it hasn't even phased me, because for me, everyday is Friday! Which is awesome. And yet...terribly boring.

When do I leave for england again?

Dream On

Fairfield Lane Library. In some odd sense, it is a second home to me. Quiet and comfortable. The only sounds are soft footsteps across the carpet, light chatter among friends, tutors and their tutees (is that the right word?), and, one of my favorite sounds, the light clicking of fingers dancing across keyboards. I don't spend nearly enough time here.

How it is the complete opposite compared to Ball State's library. I'm there in the mornings, between classes, after classes, and late at night. And for some odd reason, even though most of my stressful hours of the school year are spent there, I still enjoy it very much. I remember walking down in McKinley one day during finals week and overhearing a girl complain to her friend how much she hated the library but had to go to study. It honestly baffled me. What's so wrong with the library? Some floors are quiet, some floors aren't. There are tvs in the basement if you need to go chill out. A coffee shop with options just as good as starbucks (although it needs to adopt the same hours as the Starbucks in the student center...I need my midnight caramel macchiato!) I mean if it were me, I'd probably live there if I could. I'm still waiting for the day that it becomes a "real" library like every other college library and remain open 24/7. I'm sure there would be some days in which I'd never leave.

I don't know if it's the peaceful atmosphere, the writer I wish to be, or something about being surrounded by what seems like all the knowledge in the world but I find myself greatly at ease in these places. I feel like I can sit and think and be productive without being completely overwhelmed (this is of course with the exception of J102...most freakin stressful class of my life...). Or maybe it's the fact that I have access to all these great resources, and here's the brilliant catch, it's all for free! Books, magazines, journals, music, dvds, etc. Sometimes when I'm bored or if I have the free time I'll just walk up and down the aisles of books. And for some reason I feel like a child...just completely captivated by all that surrounds me...all the things I can read and learn about. It fascinates me. It angers me that I don't take advantage of all the books and resources I have at hand more often. It angers me even more so when I hear a fellow college student say that they hate the library. Oh how unappreciative she must be. Humph.

The only place that gets better is what I consider my "universal favorite place in the world": bookstores. Preferably Barnes and Noble, although I don't discriminate against Books A Million, Waldenbooks, and does Borders still exist? Oh and I miss the little bookstores. The ones that were like the one Meg Ryan owned in the movie You've Got Mail. There was a little bookstore by my house when I was a kid. My dad use to take my sisters and I there while I think he shopped for comic books and books about the stock market. It went out of business several years ago. Come to think of it I haven't seen a small bookstore such as itself since. Stupid giant corporations.

Anyways...I digressed. Back to bookstores. Oh! Let's not forget Half Price Books. Although they suck when it comes to selling your books to (I tried selling some old school books there that were rejected by the bookstores at Ball State...I received a whooping $2 for the five or six books I handed over. I prefer to think of it as a donation), they are absolutely marvelous when it comes to shopping for a book.

But despite all these other big bookstores, small bookstores, what have you...Barnes and Noble remains my favorite. Oh and fun fact. Andy Summers wrote in his autobiography about meeting the guy who started Barnes and Noble before the bookstore became the giant corporation it is today. Actually if I recall, the guy didn't even have the bookstore yet, it was just an idea at the time. I found it pretty cool when I read it.

But back to Barnes and Noble...I have a confession to make. I might've blogged about it before, but if I have I'm gonna blog about it again. When life gets stressful, or when I need a dose of inspiration, or if I'm just plain bored, I like to drive out to the Barnes and Noble in West Chester, walk in, get a little lost among all of the aisles of books and pause for a moment. And for that moment I think to myself, "One day I'm going to walk into this bookstore and my name is going to be on one of these books." And that moment exhilarates me. I'm sure I'm not the only person who's done this or had that thought. I might not even be the only person who drives out of her way to experience such a few seconds. But when I do it's one of the most inspiring moments of my day, sometimes my week or even month. I'll spend hours wandering through that store, picking up random books, and pretending that one day something I will have written will be hiding somewhere among all of the books I gaze at. Of course, it wouldn't be too bad if my book ended up at the front of the store, you know as it's one little stand with a "bestseller" sign attached. But for now I keep it simple. I would just like to think that one day I will have written something that is worth putting on a shelf and for a young aspiring writer such as myself to pick up and think, "one day, I'm going to be her." That's the goal. That's the dream. That not only I do something that achieves what I want, but helps inspire someone else.

I remember last year when I was in J102, our final project was to deconstruct an article of our choice, to show that all the work we put into our paper is something that real writers do. For my project I chose an article featured in the Rolling Stone (of course) by Sabrina Rubin Erderly. When I was finished with my project and received my grade, I sent it to her because she requested to see it, and in it I wrote about how talking to her and learning from her was a great inspiration to me. She wrote back this response...

Bravo! You get an A in my book. :-) An excellent, well-written paper -- and I'm also glad to hear that your talk with me didn't scare you away from journalism forever. I had an actual emotional moment when I reached the line of your conclusion about being excited to one day be in a position like mine... Because I remember so vividly being a college student myself, and
wanting the same thing so very badly. Keep at it, Laura, and you'll get there.

Enjoy your summer --

Best,
Sabrina

From time to time, when I need that dose of inspiration, or when I'm having a breakdown at school and the thought "I'm never gonna be a writer!!!" keeps flashing through my mind, I pull that e-mail out and realize that everyone who is in the position I dream of one day being in, was once in the same position as me. And it gives me that extra push to realize that if I just keep at it, one day I'll be there too.