At Long Last, or Nnnaaaarggg
So, um, hi. I write now because I'm too tired to keep submitting online job applications without messing something up. Y'know what kind of sucks? Job hunting. Sure the internet is big and sparkly, and has millions of possible jobs, but I would trade all that for just one that I could actually [i]have[/i]. Plus it's depressing that all the art/design jobs call for skills I wish I had but don't. Mrph. It's been a long day. But anyways...
So I figure I'll start with the present and work my way back as I get around to it. Unless I ramble. We'll see. So here I am in sunny Chicago. And yeah, it has been sunny. Muggy, in fact. And despite ominous musings that the snow could hit any week now, there has been no sign of it. According to Yahoo some guy died trying to run a marathon here, which is pretty intense considering I don't think it's been much over 90. They say it's not the heat, it's the humidity. For me it's neither, it's when the temperature doesn't change all night long. Now that is a problem. But it hasn't been unremittingly sticky, and there is always, as promised, the wind.
Our apartment is nice, surprisingly so for a building that looks like nothing much. The kitchen is painfully dinky, but it makes up for it with lavish amounts of living and bedroom space, and a full wall spread of windows across both. The windows, in a happy turn of chance, look out exactly on the tops of the trees outside, giving us limitless oppurtunities to spy on our neighbors of the squirrel and bird persuasion. It just about makes up for the fact that the apartment is consistantly ten degrees hotter than it is outside (it'll be nice if that lasts through the winter, but we'll see...)
We seem to be stuck in a stage of two thirds unpacked, now that Joaquin is neck deep in Latin (his professor is an ex monk, how's that for medieval?) and I am lost in the rapture of the job hunt. None the less, it's rather comfy (perhaps more so than when Joaquin gets around to busting out his poster collection, which will be confined to the bedroom against the eventuality of respectable house guests). We're three blocks from the public library (which resembles a capitol building in miniature and, in a stroke of awesome, checks out free passes to the local museums and the zoo) six blocks from the grocery store, and one block from both a bus stop and the Metra train (like the L, but more anti-social). The neighborhood is a little noisy but supposedly fairly safe, on account of the U of C having a private police force, which is it's own kind of creepy. I suppose I shouldn't complain, UCSC had one. But we were off on a hill, it was a matter of courtesy not to gank the city's police.
Man, there's like a million other things to talk about, the lake and the Aikido club I found and just the city. But it's late and this is getting ponderously long already. Much love y'all, I'll be with you when I can.
So I figure I'll start with the present and work my way back as I get around to it. Unless I ramble. We'll see. So here I am in sunny Chicago. And yeah, it has been sunny. Muggy, in fact. And despite ominous musings that the snow could hit any week now, there has been no sign of it. According to Yahoo some guy died trying to run a marathon here, which is pretty intense considering I don't think it's been much over 90. They say it's not the heat, it's the humidity. For me it's neither, it's when the temperature doesn't change all night long. Now that is a problem. But it hasn't been unremittingly sticky, and there is always, as promised, the wind.
Our apartment is nice, surprisingly so for a building that looks like nothing much. The kitchen is painfully dinky, but it makes up for it with lavish amounts of living and bedroom space, and a full wall spread of windows across both. The windows, in a happy turn of chance, look out exactly on the tops of the trees outside, giving us limitless oppurtunities to spy on our neighbors of the squirrel and bird persuasion. It just about makes up for the fact that the apartment is consistantly ten degrees hotter than it is outside (it'll be nice if that lasts through the winter, but we'll see...)
We seem to be stuck in a stage of two thirds unpacked, now that Joaquin is neck deep in Latin (his professor is an ex monk, how's that for medieval?) and I am lost in the rapture of the job hunt. None the less, it's rather comfy (perhaps more so than when Joaquin gets around to busting out his poster collection, which will be confined to the bedroom against the eventuality of respectable house guests). We're three blocks from the public library (which resembles a capitol building in miniature and, in a stroke of awesome, checks out free passes to the local museums and the zoo) six blocks from the grocery store, and one block from both a bus stop and the Metra train (like the L, but more anti-social). The neighborhood is a little noisy but supposedly fairly safe, on account of the U of C having a private police force, which is it's own kind of creepy. I suppose I shouldn't complain, UCSC had one. But we were off on a hill, it was a matter of courtesy not to gank the city's police.
Man, there's like a million other things to talk about, the lake and the Aikido club I found and just the city. But it's late and this is getting ponderously long already. Much love y'all, I'll be with you when I can.