CHICAGO ON FILM
When I was a senior in high school--hell, maybe even when I was a junior--I wanted to move to Chicago. Without question, without reason, I wanted to be there. Something about it being a city of Midwestern hospitality and coastal diversity. It had opportunities. It had people. It had atmosphere and adventure and a pace faster than that of my small hometown. It had newspapers and publishers and editors and magazines and things I wanted, I really wanted. So, at seventeen, I applied to Columbia College and was happily accepted. That year, over Easter weekend, my mom and I traveled to Chicago--our first time driving in the Windy City. We were confused and flustered (which is to no one's surprise), but we both loved the college visit itself. God, how I wanted to be there. I really, really wanted to be there.
But, at seventeen, I was as naive as I was idyllic. So, of course, I didn't end up in Chicago after graduation.
That just wasn't the time.
Eight years have passed since I was accepted at Columbia College. And, you know what? It still isn't the time. ... Probably because I'm still naive and still idyllic.
But Chicago is still ... Chicago. It's not overwhelming. It's not intimidating. It's not egotistical. It's not frenzied. It's intelligent, collected. And it's more humble than other large cities. And even though I couldn't be there when I was seventeen, and even though I'm not there at twenty-five, there's still a part of me that aches for its streets, wanting for its atmosphere.
... which, perhaps, is why I'll be there this weekend.