I've been thinking about it a lot lately in my spare time (which isn't plentiful these days, what with three jobs and a full load of credits at the University of Minnesota), and figuring out what is pulling me back to Los Angeles with such an unrelenting force has been difficult. But, as I'm prone to obsessively prodding my brain for answers to such persistent questions, I've begun to piece together the scattered causes for this longing. I'll do my best to explain.
First major cause: Minneapolis has changed for me. Its not the city it used to be. Not to say that I dislike it here; that's far from the truth. I have the most amazing group of friends, I love my house, my jobs, (most of) my classes, and, fuck it, this winter has been kind to me so far. I kinda like the winter right now. And I guess I can't truthfully say that its the city that's changed. Its me that has changed. Or, more noticeably, my life here has changed. A huge part of what Minneapolis was for me before I spent four months in California is gone, and memories of it are scattered everywhere. Not a day has gone by since I've been back that something, some stupid little thing, has reminded me of my ex-boyfriend, who I broke up with shortly after returning to Minneapolis, putting an end to our extremely involved three-year relationship. And by extremely involved, I mean we did everything together. Spent every possible waking (and sleeping) moment together. Retrospectively, it was insane. I was insane. But that's fucking love, I guess. Stupid, crazy love. All I can really say is, shit. Things sure do fall apart quickly.
But, in order to spare you all from what is most certainly an extremely long and currently quite bitter retelling of my failed relationship, we'll move on to the next question: where does this leave me now? Minneapolis was our city. Not as in it belonged to us, or that he was the only thing that was keeping me here, but as in this is where we were together. This city is my relationship with him. And just like the memories of my relationship with my first serious boyfriend have claimed the suburbs around Milwaukee where I grew up, so memories of Brian have claimed Como and Dinkytown and Uptown and Downtown and everywhere else. Ending my relationship with him ended my relationship with Minneapolis. This city is over for me.
Now, I don't want you guys to think that the only reason I'm out of here is because I'm a huge pussy who can't bear facing a city with so many old, raw memories. Honestly, I was done here before I even left for L.A. That's why I left. And now I've just been given another reason to go.
So, Minneapolis is now officially out of the picture after I graduate. That's a fact. Now the question turns to where I want to go next. There are only a few places I can see myself living happily at this point in my life, and one happens to be not too far away from where I grew up: Chicago, motherfuckers (I expect some of you to get that reference).
From some not-so-distant corner of my mind, the Windy City has always called out to me. As a child/teenager, I had this image in my mind of Chicago as something akin to Milwaukee's cool older sister. So, naturally, having been raised in Milwaukee, Chicago beckons to me. I can guarantee you that there are countless middle-school-chicken-scratch poems about that city hidden in some notebook somewhere in my childhood bedroom, harmlessly threatening to run away towards that skyline. And Chicago has so much potential for adventure, which is something that I crave, if you haven't figured that out already. Just this winter break I started to explore some of the neighborhoods I'd never been to (specifically Wicker Park and Bucktown, for those of you who are familiar), and they're fucking awesome. So many hidden treasures to uncover. So much opportunity for...well, whatever it is that I'm looking for. I'm sure I'll be applying to jobs in Chicago soon enough. Why not? I could be happy there, with the lake and the museums and Lalapalooza and all the other awesome shit it has to offer. But honestly, I'm not sure if I would be completely satisfied if I moved to Chicago after I graduate. I would be lying to that city if I ended up there, because its painfully obvious that my heart is somewhere else: on the West Coast.
Here we go.
God Los Angeles, what have you done to me? Strangely enough, although I'm so far away, memories of you get tangled in with my daily life almost as often as memories of my ex. Memories of places so vivid that I have to take a minute to relocated myself in the world and realize that my favorite tree on campus isn't actually at the U of M, its at Cal State Northridge. Or, that I can't just walk to the orange grove today and chill out under the trees. And no, the 6 bus will not take me to Melrose, it will take me to Uptown. Fucking get it together, girl. Its been almost a month and a half since you left. Where is your head?
I have to say, these temporary moments of mixed-up reality are the strangest sensations I've ever had, and I'm not exaggerating their intensity one bit. When I reflect on them, I can't help but wonder how I will ever be satisfied in another city, knowing that in the most quiet, sleeping center of my mind, buried so deep that it doesn't even seem to be conscious of where I am in the world, images of L.A and the ocean and tattoos and palm trees spark into my consciousness every so often. I have to go back, or I know I'll regret it for the rest of my life. I haven't been that sure of anything in a very long time.
I apologize if this post is confusing. It makes perfect sense to me, but a few glasses of wine tend to make me overconfident in my ability to describe such abstract concepts. I guess if you're really curious take me out for coffee and I'll explain.
So, Minneapolis. I know you're a busy city and it probably won't mean too much to you, but, bottom line, I'm leaving soon. Prepare for a fond farewell.
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