Not to sell myself short, but I am. Short, that is. Despite a life-long addiction to milk (pronounced “melk”) I haven’t managed to grow past 5’2”. However, all that calcium has rendered me invincible to broken teeth and bones.
When I’m not overloading on dairy, I’m usually on the quest for food around the city of Chicago. Luckily, quite a few venues for this exist, though I typically get lost trying to find them. Actually, I get lost on an almost daily basis, no matter how familiar a scene. Yet I firmly believe that, as one of my favorite Jack Johnson songs says, “getting lost is not a waste of time.” Instead I view my wanderings as a learning experience. Because after you get lost you usually find something.
So what have I found? I’ve found out that I’m going nowhere. Specifically, nowhere else. My home and my heart belong in Chicago. Nothing can keep me from it; not even the Snowpocolypse of 2011. Every time I enter the city I breathe a sigh of relief. I love being surrounded by so many different individuals: go-getters and hipsters and lawyers and old folks. I love the smokers huddling next to buildings in the winter in their puffy coats, unfazed by poor circulation, and I love the business women rushing past me in pencil skirts and sneakers. I love the skyline, and I miss it when it’s not around. I love almost everything about this city and most of all, I love getting lost in it.
Despite my complete lack of navigational skills, I never get lost when writing. Whether used in a creative piece, 12-point-font-double-spaced-one-inch-margins essay, or a headline, the words I choose matter a great deal to me because they reflect who I am and how I think. I love being able to convey my thoughts, sell a product, or even make someone laugh with words. Though I began writing in first grade, I have yet to run out of words, and I know I never will as long as I allow the people, experiences, and moments in my everyday life to inspire me.
