A year after that, almost to the day, I went out drinking with my favorite Italian Stallion, Mr. Alex Piazza. I got a little too out of control, resulting in the loss of my clutch in a cab. Inside the clutch? My wallet, debit card and camera. Awesome.
I can’t believe that was only a year ago.
I can’t believe it’s been less than a year since I graduated from CMU, and even less time since I moved to Chicago.
Whoever said life comes at you fast wasn’t kidding. Actually, fast doesn’t even begin to describe it. Life moves at its own ridiculous pace and just offers each one of us the opportunity to tag along. It’s not going to wait, it doesn’t really care what you want and it’s certainly not going to slow down.
I guess it’s that combo that’s so exciting and frustrating all at the same time.
Probably the only thing stranger than life’s own agenda, is how much can be packed into a few short months. I think I lost perspective of how time works while I was in college. The repetitiveness of class, meetings, party…class, meetings, party…made me feel like things moved really slowly. I felt like change, at least for me, was not on the docket.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. Without the security of school, and in an economy like this, nothing is stable. I’ve been in Chicago for eight months—that’s less than an academic year!—and I’ve packed more living in than I did in five years at CMU. (That’s probably my fault, but I didn’t realize that even though life has its own plan, I had the ability to hop on board. As a matter of fact, that probably would have been a lot easier than me trying to control the uncontrollable for as long as I can remember.)
I’ve given up worrying for Lent. Yup…worrying. As a Sicilian, this is not easy, and even though I try to block the stress, it continues to manifest itself in hives all over my arms and legs, and horrible bouts of heartburn. Still, I do feel better about my life because there are things I now accept I cannot control.
Like the biggest stressor for me…not having a real job.
Sure, I have another nannying gig, and it’s fine, and the family loves me, and I dig the baby. Fine. But I am ready to do something more.
In an ideal world, I’d be able to find a job here in Chicago, keep my apartment, make new friends and let my roots get deep. But you know what? That probably won’t happen. I’ve accepted it, and I’ve started looking for jobs all over the country.
I realize that what I really want to do is report. I love it, and it gives me a high I haven’t felt since I gave up singing classically. Basically, filing a story feels like singing a high D above middle C from the altar in St. Andrew’s Cathedral. To do that, though, I need to go where the jobs are—which there are a few, and they’re all in small-town America.
A few months ago, this realization would have sent me into a tailspin of anxiety, but not anymore. I’m actually having fun applying for the jobs, and I’m looking forward to seeing where it takes me. I’m exciting to discover stories. I’m ready to go.
I’m also ready to go with the flow.
This is my chance…this is my life! It’s all mine and only mine…and even though it’s going to go where it wants, I have the choice to start fighting back again, or let go and just enjoy the ride.
So this is my commitment to myself: I’ll keep my eyes wide open and my hands reached high above my head, because this is my personal roller coaster ride, and I’m not going to miss a single turn.
