Talk to Strangers

chicagohistorymuseum:

A winter scene in the Loop near State and Randolph streets, 1942.

Since I saw this on my dash yesterday, I’ve been trying to find a way to say how it makes me feel.

First thing’s first: The Chicago History Museum has a tumblr? Yes, yes, and more yes. Oh, this tumblr is so fantastic. I love it. I can taste the history here, and it is delicious.

For the past four or five years, I’ve been trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. I thought I wanted to be a professor. Then I decided to go to library science school to be a librarian or archivist. After realizing that I missed studying history, I applied to get an MA in Public History at UW-Milwaukee, focusing on museum studies. I dreamed of working at the British Museum and running around London like a madwoman, delirious on the Big Picture of history.

Last semester, I spent a lot of time in Chicago. I lived in Chicago for a short while (with retrotrash, who is still one of my best friends to this day) back in 2005, and it nearly destroyed me. It sent me halfway around the world to South Korea, where I spent the next two years teaching English and learning a hell of a lot about myself and the world. I guess I shouldn’t blame it on Chicago: it was one Big Bad Thing, really, and lots of small bad things as well, but not the city itself. After that, I held a grudge against Chicago. “It steals souls,” I would say. It was dirty, impersonal, crowded, and full of people I’d rather not know.

Spending more time there last semester, though, I fell in love with it. Something happened — I’m not sure it was, because a lot of bad things happened in that city last semester, too. Things that should have made me hate the city even more, if I’m being honest. Something magical happened inside of me, though, and now every time I think about Chicago, pass through it, or visit it, I get that “I’m home” feeling that is such an infrequent feeling for me since I’ve been traveling so much. I realized something around May that absolutely shocked me: I love Chicago and I want to live there again. I love the bustle, the museums, the friends that I’ve made and the friends that I’ll make in the future, the skyline at night, the food, the bars — I love Chicago. What happened to me? I swore for years that I’d never live there again, and now all I can think is that Chicago will be my #1 spot for job-hunting after graduation. That I’d better get an internship there so I can meet some people who might see what an awesome hire I would be. That I’ve fallen madly in love with this place, and that I want to be there enjoying every summer and bundling up every winter.