Diamonds

It’s dark there, but full of diamonds.

This is a little cheesy, but Chicago is full of diamonds.  It's such a huge, daunting, overwhelming place, but there are really great things and great people contained within it, that you can't find anywhere else.

Last Saturday, my friend Sarah had her birthday celebration and the group went to the Chicago Fire Festival, or at least tried to.  The night kind of turned out to be an epic fail.   The big event of the festival was supposed to be three paper houses, lit on fire and slowly burning, making their way down the Chicago River towards the lake at 8pm, symbolizing the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 and how the city rebuilt itself.  We found an okay spot overlooking the river at 7:30 and waited… and waited.  Apparently, there were technical difficulties with the houses.  The whole thing was delayed forever and it was freezing cold.  A bunch of people were chanting “we want fire!”  and “where is the fire!”  and threatening to make their own fires.  The good thing was since a lot of people left, we moved spots and got a really good view, but a view of the houses as they stayed in place, barely lit.  Disappointing all around.

But they still set off fireworks!  The only upheld promise of the evening.  We were right on the river, right in front of the Trump Tower, surrounded by tall buildings.  I love cities and I think skylines are beautiful, so to me, to see fireworks like that was absolutely amazing.  It was so, so worth sticking around for.

The next morning, Sarah and I went to the Russian Tea Time that’s right on Adams, between the Chicago Program office and the Art Institute.  It was a lot more expensive and fancier than I expected, but that was ok because it was also a lot more expensive and fancier than Sarah expected.  The first thing on the first page of the menu was instructions on how to drink vodka the proper Russian way, and our waitress was really disappointed when we didn’t want to get vodka or dessert at 11 in the morning.  She was probably disappointed in us in general.

Yeah, the best meals I’ve had are the ones when I go out to eat and it really sucks that going out to eat is expensive.  But I feel like going and spending a lot of money on one meal is okay every once in a while, and when you’re with friends or family and it’s special it’s worth it.  

I really need to go grocery shopping.  Yesterday for lunch at my internship, I brought cereal, cheez-its, and crackers.  That’s all I have that doesn’t require refridgeration or effort to make.  Growing up, from elementary school to senior year of high school, my dad would make sack lunches for me every day to take to school, and I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated that as much as I do now.

Also, I have tasted the glory that is Potbelly’s.  And the people who work there are always so friendly and great.  I’ve been to two different locations, and they were all so excited about me and my sandwich.  Maybe they’re so happy because they work at Potbelly’s.

Anyways.  Our independent study projects haven't really started yet; we just turned in our proposals last week, so for the first half of the semester we've had ISP class, in two groups, twice a weeek, until the projects begin.  My group has all of the art seminar students and one from the entrepreneurship seminar, and for our group project we’ve been working on an experimental film that'll air at some point on ACRE TV, which is this online livestreaming platform that shows things once and then they're gone.  

Our idea was to have this security guard doing his regular closing rounds, and as he goes into the elevator of his building, each floor opens into a weird, creepy world (why?  no one knows).  I don't know if we'll have time to do all the elevator stuff, but we're filming the floors, and two people from the group have each taken one scene/floor to come up with and take care of.  Last Tuesday, for our first floor, we decorated a room at the CP office entirely with bad selfies.  The main idea was to have the security guard walk into a room whose wallpaper was made entirely of bad selfies, and there'd be people in the room who are taking bad selfies and slowly start to notice him.  The whole thing was weird, but the room ended up actually looking really, really cool!  We each printed 50 selfies, and legitimately covered the room.  It was great.

Thursday we were supposed to film at these silos near Pilsen, and filmed in this abandoned warehouse instead.  I have no idea what the warehouse used to store, but there was white chalk everywhere, and it covered our boots and shoes and clothes, and instead of complaining, because we’re art kids we embraced it and thought it was cool.  We were totally trespassing, but we didn’t really care.  We filmed a creepy, people-appearing-and-disappearing-stalking-the-main-character scene and it also turned out great.  I have no idea what this film will end up being, it might just be three random floors/scenes thrown together, but we're filming it and that's what matters.

When the film's finished, I'll post it on here and hopefully it'll be somewhat coherent.

A week and a half ago, my arts seminar went to a poetry foundation reading at the Harold Washington Library.  The sweet, passionate, old man who read, Ko Un, was a political prisoner for years.   I’ve never been to a reading where the author spoke another language (he's Korean), and the most interesting thing was having him read his poem, and then a translator read it in English.  He spoke with a huge passion, and would make noises and slow down then speed up.  You could feel the poems when he read them.  Then the English translator would read it in a really flat way, and her tone of voice reminded me of the people who do audiobooks or the CTA announcements.  You know, the voices that are so boring and so perfect.   So much of Un’s poems were lost in translation.  So much is lost in translation, in general.  

This man was so cute too!  He was incredibly humble.  I really admire it when successful writers who have a lot of experience and years and incredible writing behind them, act like they’re grateful to be in the same room as you, not the other way around.  He kept saying how beautiful the room was, and after the poems were read he’d turn to the translator and clap for her and grin and it was great.  I want to be that kind of successful author, where I’m just so grateful for everyone who’s actually shown up and for the venue and for a chance to read my stuff and share what I know, and be so humble about it.  That’s when the material really matters.  As a writer, it should be about the material, not you, you should always care the most about what you’re writing.  Especially because that’s really what’s left behind.

For core course, a week and a half ago we spent the day in Uptown, and in the afternoon met with a group called Jesus People USA.  Yeah… that was their real name.  A woman who did the Chicago program in the nineties (she went to Knox!  And she's from Colorado too!  Knoxies are everywhere) spoke to us about it, and then showed us her housing.  She lives in a dorm-style building that used to be a fancy, great hotel in the 1920's.  Each person gets their own room, but they all share a kitchen and bathrooms.  Her two year old daughter lives in her own room down the hall.  It was really interesting to see the housing, and see the different ways people were living.  You could do anything you wanted to your room, so people had entirely renovated them and made them their own. 
We also found this sign taped to a fridge in one of the kitchens: 

I want a freezer just for ice cream.  New life goal.

This past Friday, as part of core course the whole group saw Native Son, a play based on the novel by Richard Wright, at the Court Theater.  I read the book in high school so I don't remember much, and they cut out about two thirds of the book, skipping over Bigger's trial and leaving out Max's character entirely, but the play was still amazing.  They had an actor for the Black Rat, embodying Bigger's dark side and the voices inside his head.  The lighting and sound was done so well, and the actors were really talented.  They were so passionate with their roles.  Even though the theater was an hour and a half away from La Casa, and the play was shorter than the time it took to get back and forth, it was definitely worth it.

As for my internship, I'm interning with 826CHI, a non-profit organization that helps K-12 students with their creative writing skills through in-school and after-school tutoring programs, workshops, and field trips.  We finally moved in to our new building!  Yay.  So for the past five weeks or so I've been with them, we haven't been able to do the official programs, and everyone was so excited to move in.  I spent yesterday helping move and unpack boxes and put together tables.  Because my lunch was so sad, going and getting something to eat sounded really good.  Another intern and I were on our way to Potbelly’s, and one of the board members, John, ran out after us and asked us if we were headed to lunch.  We said yes and pointed to Potbelly’s, thinking he wanted us to get him a sandwich, but he handed us each $20 and said, “go buy yourself lunch.”  The other intern was immediately like “oh no, you don’t have to do that,” and he said, “I don’t have to.  But I want to.”  And he headed back inside.  It was so sweet.  That was one of the nicest things anyone's ever done for me.   

On the way back from my internship, it was pouring rain, and I had an umbrella, which I've just gotten in the habit of always having in my backpack, and the guy sitting behind me on the bus asked me how I was prepared for the rain.  We ended up getting into a conversation because he asked me where I was coming from, and when I explained my internship we talked about writing and reading.  He loves reading, he showed me the book he had and he talked about how much he loves learning, and he reads informational and how-to books like crazy.  He’s really into martial arts, and he was telling me how he’s been trying to learn each practice and then make his own, and he started when he was 17, and he’s learned 6.  I thought that was a lot until he said there’s 24 different practices.

Since he reads so much he was saying how much he appreciates writers, and he’s always awed at how many different things people can come up with, and how writing is a way to communicate to people across the world and teach them things they would otherwise never know about.  It was great to hear that someone appreciates it.  He asked me about my writing and when I talked about my novels he asked if they were published, and I said, "Nope.  Not at all.  I'll try though."  And he said, "They will be."

He asked me what my name was, and I said Laura, and then he asked what my last name was.  Even though there are a billion girls out there with my name, I still don’t like giving my full name to strangers on the CTA/bus, and he noticed I was being hesitant about it and he said, “Sorry, I don’t want to be creepy, I just want to know your name so I’ll recognize it when it’s in print.”  This guy was so smooth, haha. 

When I pulled the thingy to get off the bus, he said, “Sorry, I meet a lot of people on the bus and I just like talking to them.  I hope you enjoyed our conversation.  You take care and have a good day.”  And as I was leaving he said, “I look forward to reading your book.” 

That meant a lot to me.  The guy really made my day.  Basically, a complete stranger told me they believed I'll get published without reading a single word of something I've written.  They had faith.

There are a lot of people who have told me, "count on having a second job" and "don't depend on being successful."  Which I know.  I realize the downsides to being a Creative Writing major.  If anything tells me that this is what I want to do, it's the fact that I refuse to listen to people who are down on it.  If I wanted to do something for the money, I would've done something else.  I'm doing it because there's nothing else I can imagine myself doing, because I've never wanted anything else, and the classes I've taken have made me a stronger writer.  If I can come home from working at a restaurant and write a better novel than I would've otherwise, that's what really matters to me.  I should be proud of spending four years studying something I can't imagine living without.  

I get so used to having people look down on my major and my chosen career path, that I forget that there are people who also support it and don't think it's a stupid decision.  This guy was a total stranger, and I think he believed in me more than I sometimes believe in myself.  I wish I'd told him how much it meant to me. 

It’s interesting.  Chicago is so known for its danger and its rudeness.  People are scared coming here.  I was.  I was hurt by the way people just went right ahead of me on the CTA or how cold the cashier was at the Dollar General, until I got over it.  I was intimidated by neighborhoods, and nervous the whole first couple weeks.

But in Chicago I’ve experienced some of the best expressions of kindness I’ve ever received.  All I want is to be able to give back and do the same kind of thing for someone else someday.  

Picture time. 

The fireworks from the Chicago Fire Festival:

The fancy Russian food from Russian Tea Time: 

I awkwardly don't know how to turn the picture right side up.

My fancy Russian tea: 

It was so good!  I don't need Russian vodka when I've got my Russian tea.

Our coolio selfie room: 

The wall paper turned out so cool.

The warehouse: 

I have no idea what used to be in there, but the chalk was everywhere.

Creepy stuff I found while moving boxes in the basement of 826CHI: 

Just sitting on a table.

I feel like if you turned off the lights, 

things would come out of this.

I don't know why a bathroom in the basement is necessary.

And it's a super creepy one.

This pigeon.  Wtf.  Who would create a giant pigeon?  Why would that ever be necessary?  And why does 826CHI have it?  Or more importantly, why has 826CHI kept it? 

Anyways.  The beginning quote for this post is from Death of A Salesman, a play by Arthur Miller, which to me is one of the greatest plays ever.  There are dark places everywhere that are intimidating and dangerous, but they're full of diamonds, of little pockets that contain acts of kindness, or amazing locations, or incredible people.  And it's those things that make the dark place worth living in. 

- Laura