i write posts at home on my desert island (no internet access) of a computer, then forget to bring them into work with me.

you all know what life in a new city is like anyway: frantically emailing out resumes to every part-time job and employment agency listed, spending quality time with the chicago public transit system as i zip south to job interviews in the loop, and north to my theatre in evanston, coming home at night to the teeny tiny studio apartment that we’re not really supposed to be living in (and so can’t complain to the manager about the neighbor upstairs who karate chops her furniture at 3am). zeke paces and skitters about the room, trying to stay out from under our feet in a teeny tiny space.

i’m in a rush to be settled, even tho i know these things take time. you have to find the apartment first – after that you can unpack your stuff, connect utilities, open bank accounts, find a job, learn your way around town, meet people, join in things, start to feel like you LIVE in the city. it all comes back to having a home. since we’re living in hiding in our friend’s apartment, we don’t have an address. or any utilities. without a phone number or an address, it’s hard to receive mail. or apply for jobs. or wear any of the clothes that are in storage that you need for said job interviews, or check email, or open a bank account, apply for health insurance, discover local cafes to hang out at, meet people, or really do anything besides take the damn train back and forth across town. they let you ride the train without a legitimate address, but that’s about it. these are petty concerns, in the long run, of course. it makes me realize what it must feel like not to have a legitimate social security number in this country.

we’re supposed to move in a week, and i’m waiting with bated breath to hear about a job interview. if these things work out, life will start to feel normal. i hope. or at least i’ll worry less about being broke and homeless.