in which it most certainly does not snow!

So this is the most wonderful time of the year. By which of course I mean the time that I become obsessed with weather.com. Right around the beginning of November, weather.com becomes my homepage, and checking it turns from casual curiosity to unhealthy addiction. As I write this, weather.com is preparing for its third round of weather predictions for me today.

Unlike nearly every other resident of the Midwest, for me, there is nothing quite like waking up to see the streets covered in a blanket of white amnesia-y snow. Just smelling the cold on the air gets me going in a manner that most people reserve for seeing their S.O. after a month or two of seperation: the fast paced heart, the fluttering hands, the breathless excitement, that warm, delightful almost-peeing-yourself-you're-so-happy feeling! That is me when the first flakes make their dutiful touchdown on the cold pavements of the city.

I am probably one of ten people in Chicago right now UNHAPPY about the unseasonable warmth that we are experiencing right now. Oh, because I'm afraid of global warming? Well, okay, touche, but also because I desperately want snow. I am on tenterhooks here, literally on tenterhooks! I can't sit down because I keep getting up to look out the windows & check for snow clouds. The weather channel is my morning. And I keep wearing my winter coat, half out of quiet misguided hope that this choice will somehow have an effect on the weather. (The other reason for wearing a winter coat is because 50 degrees and sunny does not mean soul crushing wind.)

Before anyone asks: no, I do not have to drive in the snow. No, I do not have a walkway to shovel. No, I do not have a predisposition for colds. But I will gladly a. drive you around, b. shovel your walkway, and c. make you a daily soup of your choice if it means that I will have snow N-O-W.


The only good that comes of an EL NINO CHRISTMAS is Chris Farley.*

"I am El Niño! Which is Spanish for... the... Niño!"

And even then, that might not be enough. In matters of seasonal temperatures, I have always found it wise to use one of the most famous addages from Poor Richard's Almanack as a rule of thumb: "If I can go rollerblading on Christmas Day, it's time for some goddamn snow."

In a related story, I really need new jeans. Preferably ones that don't require the employment of the tried and true rubberband-around-the-ankles trick to get them to fit in my boots.




I bet I can fit one more round of OREGON TRAIL in before quittin time! I love Friday.

*(Sometimes when I try to write Chris Farley's name, I end up writing "Christ" Farley. Sorry, Mom. Sorry, God.)

in which the saga continues.

If you like playing quest-y RPG games, and you would like to experience playing on in real life, just lose your wallet. Soon your life will be like a quest.

As a Peasant, you live in a pleasent fifedom of relative safety and security--until a band of armed robbers steal your most prized possession, [WALLET]. This sends you into a fit of tears/uncontrollable rage, mediated only by frantic phone calls to your mother, who works things out with the bank and is able to set up appointments for you to recieve a new driver's lisence.

Soon after this dastardly display of thievery, a [WIZARD] appears to comfort you. He reveals that there is a way to get [WALLET] back, but it will require a great deal of work on your part.

Do you accept his quest?
>>Yes
>>No



Yes? GREAT. [WIZARD] tells you that to reconstruct [WALLET] you will need to collect several key objects.

Wait. Did he say reconstruct? You just wanted [WALLET] returned to you.

[WIZARD] laughs. You are a fool. There is no way to get [WALLET] returned to you unless it is found by someone with a good and pure heart feels sorry for whatever rube doesn't check their purse 15x every minute to see if [WALLET] is inside. And the chance of that happening can best be described like this: slim to none. So your only choice is to reconstruct [WALLET]. And you already said you would so you're locked into this deal anyway.

[WIZARD] presents you with an itimized list. It is as follows:
>> 1. new [DRIVER'S LISENCE]
>> 2. new [SOCIAL SECURITY CARD]
>> 3. new [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS]
>> 4. new [WALLET]
>> 5. new [STUDENT ID]
>> 6. new [UPASS]

Here is the catch. In order to purchase [WALLET], you will need [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS]. In order to get to a place to purchase [WALLET], you will need [UPASS]. In order to get [UPASS], you need [STUDENT ID]. In order to get [STUDENT ID], you need to take the train, which requires [UPASS], and you will need $$, which requires [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS] since your $$ was in [OLD STOLEN WALLET].

In order to get [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS] you will need to go to the bank which is conventiently located in the far fifedom of [GODDAMN INDIANA]. In order to get to [GODDAMN INDIANA] you need [UPASS] and [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS]. In order to get [DEBIT CARD/CHECKS] you need to prove your identity, requiring [DRIVER'S LISENCE] and/or [SOCIAL SECURITY CARD], both of which were in [OLD STOLEN WALLET].

In order to get a new [DRIVER'S LISENCE] you must prove your identity, which requires [SOCIAL SECURITY CARD] and/or [STUDENT ID].

[WIZARD] flees the scene, laughing at your inability to solve your problems. You are left crying in the dust.

THE END.

Play again?
>>Yes
>>No

in which I go into a tailspin

So yesterday my wallet got stolen.

AWESOME.

Looking in your empty purse is probably about the worst feeling in the world.

It really isn't that bad (except for one glaring hideous fact which will be described in greater detail later). I don't have any credit cards, just one debit card that I immedietly put a stop on. My library card, school ID card, health insurance card, and my upass were also in there... which also sucks, but are all replacable. The upass is probably the worst of the lot, since it takes 5-7 days to get a new one (!!!) and costs $35 (!!!!!!). My driver's lisence was in there, but that is also replacable. And fortunately I was headed back to Indiana anyway this weekend to see my brother's show.

AND ALL THAT WOULD NOT BE SO BAD. Except my social security card was in my wallet.....



This is the glaring hideous fact that I mentioned earlier, in case you weren't aware.

So I am not one of those fools that just blindly travels her merry way with her trusty social security card in her wallet. I keep it safely hidden inside a hollow book. Just kidding, I wish I had a hollow book. But the only reason I had it with me was because they had to make a copy of it at work so I could, you know, get paid. And of course it was the day that my wallet was stolen... or something.

I feel like I have to add the OR SOMETHING becuase I don't really know. I was at Starbucks buying a chai for lunch. I went over to the cream counter to stuff my cash (a whole two dollars!) back into my wallet... then I sat down and drank my chai and did a crossword. Then I went back to work. No one bumped into me or anything like that. My purse was with me the whole time. It was hanging on my chair, but it was pressed against the wall and I totally would have noticed someone rooting around in it. I didn't realize the wallet was missing until about four o'clock when I went to balance my check book.

But like I said, it's the goddamn socical security card that is the absolute worst facet of this whole debacle. Missing social security cards are forever. I will always have to be worried about this forever and ever and ever amen. It makes me sick just thinking about it.

Fuck you, thief.

in which isn't she loverly?

so this afternoon, I went to the Fortnightly Club for lunch. oh you know, just this little out of the way place, luncheons and talks and afternoon teas.

seriously it was totally ridiculous. the luncheon was hosted by the Friends of American Writers organization, a whole gang of really sweet ladies who love literature and love to support it. they awarded me their annual scholarship through Roosevelt, so I got to go to lunch with them and give a little thank you speech. yikes.

this morning I got up and got dressed and went to work per the usual. at lunch, I got all sophisticated, just jumped into a cab and zoomed off to Belleview place, and got out at the delightful little cottage to your left.

I felt like friggin Eliza Doolittle or something. chandeliers everywhere. dumbwaiters and guys in waistcoats bowing you into the doors (I am being mostly serious here.) at the tables, the place settings had the usual intimidating three forks. all these little old ladies in hats kissing cheeks. three course lunch and cake and coffee afterwards. I concentrated on not spilling cranberries and yams in my lap and tried to remember what I'd planned to say when the time came to accept my award.

the president of the club gave a nice introduction. the other award recipient talked first. she was very eloquent and gracious and I admired the ease of the way she thanked everyone. so when it was my turn, I stumbled up to the mic and talked about how greatful I was, how I'd wanted to be a writer since the sixth grade, my first story about star-crossed lovers and a haunted fort (which got me laughs), and how touched I was that people support my work, even people I don't know yet.

I know, sappy, right? but shhh, I really did mean it, every word. every time someone says "hey I like what you wrote", it's like Happy Birthday to Me. I just can't believe that people are that interested in me. it's easy to get caught up in yourself and write only for you. I have a hard time showing my work to other people, not because I'm snooty or stingy or even embarrassed. I just hate bragging. so when people, beyond prompts, just appreciate my work... it's a big warm honor that I don't think I will ever get used to.

then after all that serious business, I went to the bathroom and proceeded to fall down the stairs, but recovered with my usual poise and grace and nervous laughter. She is Saint Mary's.

anyway it was great, and a "real writer" moment. by which I mean the award, not the falling down the stairs thing. and hopefully a sign of more things to come.

in other news, I finished my second piece of fiction for workshopping. not at all what I expected. while riding on the train to work, I became inspired by Fleet Foxes. check them out if you don't already know the secret. they are brilliant, brilliant, brilliant, especially "White Winter Hymnal". I am literally obsessed with that song, I daily put it on repeat and ride the rails around the Loop.

what else what else.... I'm trying to polish something for the AWP Intro Journal  competition.... I dunno if I'll make it to the deadline but I am hoping. maybe Medusa will go.

yikes, life. I love you.

in which I am following the pack.

5. things I am currently obsessed with:

1. buying dresses

2. eating out

3. fleet foxes

4. greek mythology

5. public transportation



awards luncheon tomorrow. weekend coming soon. life is good.

wouldn't it be sweet to trick-or-treat at Yoko Ono's? I have never much been inspired by her but she is a really interesting person. wouldn't that be something, to have such an intimate connection/knowledge to someone so famous and beloved the world over--knowing what their favorite color was, their favorite food, mudane banal information.

she gets such a bad rep but she's probably really sweet in person.

anyway it's a Friday. I am trying to write an apocalypse story but it keeps coming out too much like the Road.

"Jemmy has been sainted for a long time, but we are still walking toward home. He told us that all our troubles would be over the minute he got holy. When it finally did happen, he said success just tasted like wormy apples and started to cry. Juliette asked him to say a blessing over all of our parents on his sainting day, but she was just being nice. We haven’t seen our parents since a long time ago. Their bodies long ago fell apart into ashes, the ashes on our faces and the ashes we breathe. But I didn’t say this out loud because it would have made Jemmy cry again.

We are still walking toward home because walking is what they told us to do. Jemmy cries when he thinks we are not looking. He pulls his scarf over his face and sobs into the wool. Being a saint is not as great as he thought it would be, he says. Tears make pale tracts on his grimy face and he snuffles something awful. I have started plugging my ears with bits of paper and string just so I can get some sleep when the sun comes up, when we are all safe beneath the bridges.

It is my job to hold the map. It is Juliette’s job to hold the Baby Buffalo and to watch the clock. It is Jemmy’s job to make the night fires and do the praying. It is Wean’s job to watch the road. It is the Baby Buffalo’s job to tell us what to do.

When the sun comes up we run for the bridges. That’s the first thing we learned."


....see what I mean?


© christina k. 2009

in which time makes you bolder even children get older I'm getting older too.

so now I've got this job that I love.

I can't express enough what a relief a real job is and I can't stop smiling about it. I go home and feel so comfortable and grown up. it's like the minute I got a job everything I was worried about just drifted away. I wake up in the morning, make coffee, take a shower, eat breakfast, watch the news, get dressed, take a bus to a train to a train and unlock the doors at work. it's such a wonderful monotonous routine and maybe someday I will grow to hate it but for now... I love having somewhere to be.

I was born in Chicago, I was partially rasied in Chicago, and Chicago has always been my real home. when I moved here it was a fulfillment of everything I had been waiting for. I had been waiting and waiting to move to Chicago. but when I got here I still felt out of step. I started learning all the street names and EL stops; I started memorizing block numbers and Dunkin Donuts locations, but it still wasn't right. I went to school in the evenings. then I came home and laid on the couch.

now I feel a part of things. when I get on the train, when I walk fast with my head bent against the wind, when I jump on the bus, I'm immersed in this dance that is always happening in the city, all the time. I know the rhythm and I'm learning all the steps.

and I'm growing up. yesterday I realized that I am twenty-three. I realized how old that was and how young that was at the same time. I can feel my life coming together, assembling around me in interlocking pieces. that's not to say that everything must always stay the same, that nothing will ever change, that my life is my life and will be this way forever. what I mean is that I am feeling connected again, alive, vibrating with energy. I can feel my life working for me, and I can feel my purpose becoming more and more clear everyday. you know those money managment commercials where the green path lights everyone's way for them? that's how I feel things are working for me.

one thing I never talk about is my religion. I'm not ashamed of being religious, I just consider the matter very personal. I love being Lutheran, I love going to church and singing hymns and feeling the power and communion with something so much bigger than I am. every day, I feel this increasing spiritual awareness and some days my blood just feels electric. I don't credit my life to luck, I credit it to God, and that's where this path comes from. I have been praying for so long for my way to become clear and I think it finally is.


this office is so bright. my mother sent me flowers yesterday. it is getting colder and winter is coming. I am starting to wake up again.


thank you job. thank you Chicago. thank you God.