Chicago Winter

03.19.07

The winter in Chicago was rough. I basically counted my days down while in-flight from Los Angeles to Chicago as to when I would get back to Los Angeles. This coming from someone who hates Los Angeles too! There’s no sun in Chicago or at least 6 hours of it or something like that. During the day you get a hazy grey sky and it’s too damn cold to even think about going outside. You’re cooped up all the time and wondering when mother nature will let up. There were two or three times where I ventured out for a run, desperately needing to get outside. Even though I was extremely careful about the ice patches and walked through them, I still slipped and fell hitting the back of my head on the concrete and then as I came back around fell again in the same damn spot, but this time forwards on my hands. Then I tried nonchalantly to get myself up as if nothing happened and tried my best to retain the look of a professional runner while all the time cursing at the damn snow everywhere and feeling stupid at my attempt to defy a frictionless surface and my stupidity of having premature, good thoughts about outside conditions. There were so many L.A. weekends where I would spend hours outside sitting in the sun, like those sea lions I saw behind the fish market in Chile, just to try to catch up on my sunlight. Every weekend, I made sure to avoided all shady areas as I walked around outside. I’m actually still doing the “avoid shady areas” routine now. It’s counter intuitive for me since I normally avoid being in the direct sunlight, hence the hat and long sleeves all the time. During the summer, I complain endlessly about Los Angeles’ burning sun and force myself to go running at 6-7am to avoid the blazing sun, and no matter what, I can’t cake enough sun block on and somehow end up still getting darker each time. Now all I do is just bask in the sun like a desperate plant. Ironic isn’t it. Then at the low point, I start to question my existence and all that shit, sitting at my work desk asking myself what’s the point and all, and then wondering how much money I need to retire. But then I don’t think I’ll enjoy a retired life either. I picture myself as a retiree. Waking up late, staying up late, eating all my meals late, going to the gym late, playing tennis at night, running at night, reading into the night, only consuming, wouldn’t my brain rot? What I think I need is a change. I need to get onto a different project or something. The galore is all gone here at work. The first year of any project is exciting and challenging, full of unknowns and possibilities, a chance to make great impressions and big changes in a company’s procedures. In about a year, things become routine and you’re on autopilot, doing nothing meaningful but just attending meetings, discussions, and writing emails all day. You start thinking about the world around you and how you’ve totally dropped out of that world. The market has changed, you’ve changed, everything has moved forward and you have not. A year and a half, you’re questioning your value and itching for something new to happen, anything to happen, lightening to strike, anything! After two years, you’re about to slit your wrist from the boredom and mundanity of the entire corporate world and start hating everyone around you, even the innocent ones. (I’m at two years.) Then you look at all the slobs there, who have been with this company for 12 years or have been doing the same shit forever, or worked with this SAP product for two decades now and wonder what the fuck is wrong with them. Don’t they see that this entire thing is rather pathetic? Then it goes a full circle and it comes right back to me. There must be something wrong with me and not them, right? You know, writing this is rather therapeutic, not that I’m getting a light bulb suddenly appearing over my head or anything now, but at least I can attempt to try to figure things out. Anyway, I then start thinking about my family, at least just my dad’s side. It’s inside of me, to do what I do, to continue on and have no reason but just a desire to make money, but no real use for the money at the end, but just to have it and have more of it. Sometimes laziness arises from my mother’s side here and there, actually quite often more than I like, but I understand why my aunts and uncles and my father are the way they are, and hence me. There’s no logic behind it all but just a powerful desire, which I question every so often when I’m bored and have too much time to think. Best not to think right? Kids are in the best situation. They just go about playing with no worries and no responsibilities to fill. Their troubles are fleeting and soon forgotten. Does this all make any sense? I don’t know what I’m saying anymore because what ARE my troubles? I don't think I have any real ones, just mental drama. Think I’m experiencing midlife crisis too soon in my life. I should just focus on the next hour of what I should do and forget about the next year of what I should do. I think I need to go for a run is what I think! Sorry for all this writing. It was entertaining for me at least.