Fear and Wonder

Stuck between fear and a sense of wonder

Life is lived within this spectrum. I live in this spectrum.
Between the fear of my cold apartment floor and the wonder of a bowl of cereal.
Between the fear of rejection and the wonder of a new love.
Between the fear of the polar vortex and the wonder of an arctic city.

Im bad at drawing

     As much as I value positivity lately this has been a great place for me to vent on stuff that I dislike/want to change. So let's continue with my thoughts on drawing.

      When I was a little kid I drew all the time. I really liked drawing trees . There are straight parts and curvy parts and textured leaves and bark. You can add animals and grass and roots. I just loved drawing trees. I had little interest in drawing faces and people because symmetry is hard and so is drawing representationally. I drew for my own joy with no intention in mind. As I got older I had less time to draw and my style evolved to suit  the time I had avaliable. I got into drawing patterns and really graphic work. I also became more aware of the commercial side of art.

     My mom is a graphic designer so I knew about that side of art. To my mothers dismay I also became more aware of tattoos and the "alternative" side of commercial art. However I was still not a fan of representational and realistic drawing it did not come easy for me and struggling with it took the fun out of it. 

     I remember when I applied to fashion/art schools a lot of places wanted fashion illustrations. I absolutely hated drawing them there were different rules for fashion illustration and I had to draw faces which were the worst. It would take me hours just to do the heads.

     Even when if was accepted and in the department I struggled. I could make the garments, easy. Drawing them was a different story.

     What I failed to realize was that fashion illustration is just that, illustration. I had always tried to make my drawings from photographs of my work combined with photos of models. This made for weird proportions and things that were always a little off.

     At this point I began to dislike drawing.

    I went from a place where there were a few kids who were good at drawing, my high school. To a place where a knowledge of drawing and art was a pre requisite, and some people had come from highs schools where art was considered far more important than math. Very much unlike my school, that had an engineering program. Anyway I was suddenly a goldfish  in an ocean of sharks who, to me seemed like they could all sell their  proverbial doodles for quite a pretty penny. It's one thing suck at one thing as much as the rest of your communitiy does, but it's another to feel like the only one.

     So I took an illustration class, it was really intimidating. Even beginning was filled with people who had an amazing gift and passion for illustration.i forced my self to keep drawing even though I didn't really like it. It's hard to be bad at something you want to be good at. It's harder to try to be better when it seems to come easy to everyone else.

 But I'm working on it. And maybe someday I'll be pretty good at it, and maybe then I'll enjoy it again.

Crit Week

crit week is killing me...

 I haven't slept this little since I left the department,
     but I haven been sleeping because Ive been working on stuff down in the fashion department...

Its a vicious cycle.

Be a perfectionist-
     get no sleep making things perfect.

Go to bed and live with less than perfect work-
     get no satisfying sleep due to worrying about sloppiness...

So id rather not sleep and be perfect, or try to be perfect because perfectionism is an unfortunate illusion.

Ah I cant wait to finish my shoes and go to sleep.

Now

I want to go to the forrest.
I want to sleep among wooden giants.
I want to see the stars,
 to see the moon,
 and the planets,

To escape the city, just for a night just for a moment.

Just to get away from the everlasting hum of fluorescent bulbs
 to escape the hard unforgiving concrete that surrounds me
 to inhale and smell the earths soft breath

to finally release the tension
set betwixt my shoulder blades

I want to open my eyes and see stars not concrete

I want to inhale the moon, suck up the sea and lay on the rivers lonely coast
to shed the iron flakes that have settled where sunshine once rose, to awaken to a day on a lawn of freshly borne stones still warm from the womb of the earth

Yet here lay in my bed trapped by 17 floors of pure civilization

Religion and Food Part III

      I also found my self spending my evenings cooking more and more elaborate dishes. I went from watching Meet Joe Black and eating Mac n' Cheese, to watching the Dalai Lama speak on TED and cooking roast chicken with glazed sweet potatoes and fresh lemonade. I remember watching one of his talks and wishing one of my friends from home would call, and hearing him say "if we all just treated each other the way we want to be treated the world would be a much better place" or something to that effect.
     After hearing that I wondered why don't we apply that idea to more of our lives? Why do we only think of that when we some one who is homeless, or when we see benefit programs to support people in a disaster situation. Why don't we apply that when we are waiting for someone to call, why don't we apply that when we see a friend who you can tell wants to say something but can't. Why don't we empower our selves to call, why don't we tell our friends I can see you want to say something, whatever it is I care about you and always will. Why do we let cultural manners dictate how we conduct our feelings and how we function among others. We don't determine what station we are born into, why discriminate those who were born a different race, nationality, or ability. We don't like being discriminated against why discriminate others.

     I let that moment, the one where I was sitting in my tiny apartment window ledge huddled over a plate of roast chicken and sweet potatoes, to be my epiphany.

     I took it upon my self to let that simple phase be my guiding light:
   
Treat others how you want to be treated

     This simple phase can be applied to everything from helping those in need, to taking a shift for a coworker, to simple things that can make someones day; like buying the meal for the person behind you in the drive through, spending the day watching movies with a sick friend, calling some one you haven't heard from in months, accepting the fact that people make mistakes and letting things go, buying an unexpected gift for a friend or even a stranger.

     While the phrase is simple the idea can be difficult. Sometimes I can't believe the things that people do and I want to get so very very angry, but I remember how hard it is to take responsibility for your mistakes and I let go, if my anger and work towards a solution I can put my energy to better use.

     While this is an idea expressed in Buddhism its only one of the many views. However I am not a true Buddhist. Im not exactly ok with the whole reincarnation idea, I think there is something after death, but Im not sure if its heaven. But the levels to enlightenment thing Buddhists believe in is a little hard to believe in. I believe more in the teachings of the Dalai Lama than Buddhism. He has a really good talk about all paths to god which I am a believer in. I don't care what you believe in, whether it is science, or islam or paganism, or whatever, as long as you strive to do good without hurting others and allow others to believe in whatever they want its good with me.

      So once a week when some people take time out to to to church, or temple or pray with their families, I sit in my apartment cook something delicious and I feed my soul as well as my body. I sit, enjoy the food I am lucky to have, and dedicate an hour or so to fill my soul with positivity. It might be a TED talk or a sermon streaming from the Dalai Lama, an empowering documentary, a youtube clip, whatever. Its not always religious, but it always presents a new perspective or idea.

     So once I fed my soul as a result of feeding my body, but I have come to a place where I feeding my body has just become part of the ritual of feeding my soul.

Religion and Food Part II

     When I first left home for college I was so excited. Within hours I had best friends and I was totally ready for the freedom of it all and leaving Cali behind for a new adventure. My freshman year was great. I had good friends, great professors, easy classes, and no responsibilities.

     But the one thing I knew I wanted at the end of it all was to be an RA. I had a great RA he was really aware of the students on his floor and took time to get to know us as people. I wanted to be able to open up and be real with people the way he was with us. So I applied, and I didn't get it.

     I was crushed. But I knew the worst thing a person can tell you is No. But, no is just a yes if you are patient. So I looked at my options and I applied to be a summer RA. I got the job but that meant staying the whole summer in Chicago and no seeing any of my friends or family.

     The summer was really hard on me I had fun but I ached for the people I loved and hadn't seen. I felt lost without them. Most of my new college friends left and my friends from home were home so it was just me. There were other summer RA's and we bonded and became friends but there was still ample time for me to sit and wallow in my loneliness.

     I became very depressed. When I am sad and depressed there are only two things that make me happy, good food and good movies. So naturally I watched hundreds of hours of Netflix. I some how stumbled upon this fabulous documentary about the Dalai Lama. It was fascinating. It told the story of his life how he was plucked from childhood to be a living god, and how he used his powers to speak to the world on equality, and morals.
   
     He taught the ideas of Buddhism and how the main world religions have very similar ethical codes, but are taught in different ways. This was a revelation for me.

     My main issue with Christianity was all the ideas veiled in stories, and how it claimed to be the reason for meaning in the world. After more research on the Dalai Lama I learned more about Buddhism the pillars, and the stories. I am not a fan of all of these ethical stories, every religion has them, but id rather the message be straight up, why hide the fact that people should treat each other with fairness and love, why do we need to hide that?

Religion and Food Part I

     When I was a little kid I used to drive for 45 minutes on Sunday with my mom to go to church.
My sister my mom and I would be dressed and out the door so we could drive downtown and sit in the pews with my grandparents for hours and hear these old people tell stories in sing songey voices then eat these weird little pieces of bread.
     We weren't Catholic as people often assumed if ever mentioned these never ending services, we were Episcopalian, which Johathan Rhys Meyers has explained to me through The Tudors is very similar but very different. Same beliefs and all, but women can be priests, it doesn't matter who you love aka being gay is ok, no nuns or monks, divorce is more acceptable, and various other changes.
     As a child I didn't really listen to all the speeches, I preferred to color. Sunday School wasn't really my thing either. I mostly went for the company, because I liked buying fancy clothes to wear to church, and the food.
     Almost always after church we would go to lunch with my grandpa and my grandma. I really liked going out to eat and I liked being with my grandpa and grandma, so as a kid I mostly went to church for the food.
     As I got older I didn't have time to spend 7 hours every week at church and lunch, or chunch if you want to call it that. And I began to be bored with coloring and sometimes I found my self actually listening to the old people in the front talking. I agreed with some of it, I really liked when we all shook hands and said, "Peace be with you" and in reply heard, "And also with you" but there were parts I didn't get. Like why we needed elaborate stories about cutting babies in half to learn compromise. And stories of miracles and fabulous feats to teach ethics, and whether or not we are supposed to take these stories as fact. Why did ideas of compassion, compromise, friendship, and empathy need to be veiled with strange tales for them to matter to people.

     As I got older I became disillusioned with the christian faith, I did not believe in the spirit in the sky, and there was no where to go when you died. I did not see any thing other than just ending.

     But it became hard to believe in nothing.

Dear World, Its me...What should I do with my life?

So I have no idea what do with my life.
     I have made and stuck to ten and five year plans since I was seven...I realize its a bit weird for a seven year old to have a ten year plan, but when you know you know,
and when you dont know...YOU DONT KNOW!

What I'm trying to say for the first time since second grade I have no idea.

     Im not saying Im following the life goals of a seven year old, the goals have always had room for adjustment and allowed for changing tides, but its the first time in my life I have not had a solid plan for a major decision.

So what do I do? Stick to the path im on:

Continue in the Fashion department next semester despite that some days it makes me cry, I often feel really dumb in that class, I don't sleep for three days a week because of it. The stress makes me, well stressed, I never have time to be social, or to really hang out with my residents. I may have to choose next year between my job and the department, which would mean more loans. I can't take the only non first year course my favorite professor teaches. I can't take any of my first choice studio electives. I basically sell my life to be in the fashion department, but it leads to being in a real fashion show at the end of the year. My secret life goal since I was a kid, being a fashion designer. The opportunity to graduate among an elite group of designers, considering if I drop the course I have to reapply to the department and start all over again, from year one, meaning more loans, more time, more stress. But sometimes the department makes me feel vapid and as though I am not using my time to positively impact society as I have always hoped I would...

Or get freaky with it and completely change my life plan:

If I change to designed objects, I will have more time to live outside of the studio. Probably less stressed, have more time to do art for fun, not be locked in to giving up 6 credits per semester to do the fashion program. I can take shoe making next semester which means I get to work with leather! But I will probably get to take this class later. I have to start out in a new program with intro a year and a half into my college career, In something that will most likely involve a bit of Math and well lets not talk about my relationship with that jerk. But maybe this could be more profitable in the long run. Are there more jobs in object design than in fashion? I also have might have more time to focus on my personal practice do some installations and some photos, and the third partner in the menage a trois of my college career, fiber art. But I might really suck at designed objects, and everyone in my class will probably be freshman computer geniuses. In designed objects you are not as locked in, I can still take fashion electives without being in the core classes so I could take fiber too... But what if I hate it and want to go back, id have to reapply... gah... what to do, what to do?

All the classes ive signed up so far, once I decide I'll drop the other classes.

Time, Food and Stuff

Its November, NOVEMBER!
     Time just seems to have flown away so quickly. I feel like a few weeks ago I was back in Cali on a road trip with my bffl. But in reality its been almost a year.
     Im finally going home next month for the first time in a year. I am so excited. I get to see my parents my family my friends and my dog! Its only for two weeks, but I still get to go home. I love Chicago and traveling and art and all but a year is a long time especially when you are only 19. I finally booked my flight and scheduled it all so everything is set now I just wait for the semester to end.
     There's so much I've missed in the past year and so much I miss. I missed graduations, birthdays, holidays, parties, parades, shows. Im more concerned about what miss though.
     Like In-and-Out I have been craving some since last November, when I went home for Christmas last year I didn't go and I really just want a burger and fries for less than $20.
     And Costco, samples, samples, samples all fo free! Bulk, buying things in bulk, like almonds and toilet paper, and chicken I miss shopping in bulk if I could here I would only have to go shopping once a semester! I can also get film put on CD for like $2, this why I refuse to go and get it done at Walgreens for $15
     Hagens, its a Sacramento staple and its darn good!
     Leatherby's, I sadly found out is actually a chain, but i still miss devouring banana splits in less than 10 min with my dad.
     All the thrift stores. Theres probably more in chicago than in Sacramento, back home there all just a few blocks away on one street!
     Raku firings! My high school ceramics teacher lets alum come and fire, but the open flame is a "fire hazard" so theres no raku at SAIC Id have to go to Hyde park or Lil street and take a class if I wanted to do that.
     Of course almost everything I miss is food related.....
I also miss adventures with my friends, walking to the river with my family and going off trail and almost getting lost, giving tummy rubs to Mr. Noodles brother, Mr Noodles! Being snuggled by my kitties, laughing at my parents playing Just Dance, Singing on Guitar Hero with my sister... and lots of other stuff.
     Im ready for thanksgiving break with my sister in Chicago, and im really ready for Christmas with my family in Sacramento.

Sleep, or lack there of...

Sleep, all I want in the world is sleep.
In High School when I told people I was going to Art school, they were often confused and said things like:
 You're so smart why aren't you going to real school?
Oh, you are going to have so much fun!
So what do you draw?

First off I don't draw. I wish i could, but I am horrible at it and it does not bring me any enjoyment. Secondly, who said art school is not "real" school? I go to an accredited university which is consistently in the top five for most influential schools nationally.
Fun, oh how I miss fun.
Every day I have between 10 and 3 hours of classes, then between 6 and 20 hours of homework that is due the next day. Not including homework that is due the day after that or long term projects, due the next day.
So things like sleep, fun, and general "me" time are put in the back burner until the most glorious days of the week, Saturday and Sunday. I sleep so much on friday night it is sometimes not worth it to change out of my pajamas because by the time I wake up on Saturday its already evening. So I sleep as much as I can on Friday and Saturday night because sunday is the start of the week all over again. I work on projects, If it wasn't for my sewing machine I would be running to the sewing lab every few hours to work on something (thanks mom and dad). I try to talk to my parents and the rest of the outside world, sometimes I forget that the universe doesn't end at Lake Michigan. If there's time i'll cook if not I allow my self to leave my room and go to the dining hall for dinner. As awful as this sounds I don't mind it that much. I like being busy it keeps me out of trouble sometimes ill take 5 to have a cup of tea and reflect on how amazing it is that I get so much done. Once thats over its time to get back to work.
Work
Work
Work
Work
Work
Sometimes all I do is work. I don't sleep that much, eat food that isn't pre prepared for me, or even leave my room. I just sit at my desk sewing, typing, and designing until I end up with a fabulous garment, concept board, or essay. And then I sleep and some times like today I fall asleep for 20 hours and it is fabulous. So friends, family, people of the outside world, if you don't hear form me for a while, I'm working, and if i'm not working i'm bathing in the glory of sleep. Every now and then I have a few minutes between sunrise and school where I write a letter so you all at least someone knows I haven't died yet. But in all reality all I want is:
Sleep
Sleep
Sleep
Sleep
Sleep zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

RA Training

So I got asked at the beginning of the month if I would be interested in being an RA.
     And me being the positive, community builder  that I am said yes.
So instead of writing, making art, or enjoying whats left of my summer I have been in meetings, team builders, making bulletin boards, door decks, and wasting two hours of my life on alcohol awareness. sometime it sucks.
    And sometimes, we sit in the lounge watching weird movies, skate videos, braiding each others hair, and just hang out and its times like these that make me think this might just all be worth it maybe :)

Fear II

If you didn't read my last post I recommend you start with Fear.

     So I am terrified of roller coasters, they are my biggest fear, but I don't believe in letting any one or any thing have a hold on me so I have slowly tried to conquer my fear. Last May before I graduated, my college prep class took a trip to Six Flags Magic Kingdom back in California. I was there to do one thing, lose my roller coaster virginity.
     I was terrified, as we were walking up the line with my class my heart was beating so strongly and so fast I could see my shirt flutter in time with it. I really, really, really, did not want to sit in that seat, but I didn't want to let fear make decisions for me. I refuse to let fear keep me from (almost) any experience, especially ones that so many people find enjoyable. So I did it any way.
     I sat in the seat, pulled the seat belt and safety measures taught, and let Medusa take me for a ride. It was terrifying, never being on any roller coaster before and then going on Medusa, but I thought if I am not going big I might have well stayed home. My eyes were shut for most of it and my language would have made a sailor blush, but I survived, I did it!
     It was terrifying and heart pounding, I wouldn't say that I love coasters now, but it was something  had to do for my self. I could not have done it without my friends.
     Most of my class went with me, they waited in line so that we could get on one train and supported me through something the child me was terrified of. I am happiest for that, to have friends support me through my greatest fear, because that's when you need friends the most. Weather you are battling spiders, facing illness, or just riding a roller coaster we all need our friends when were scared. Good friends the, kind that will wait for two hours with you to do something that makes you say things to them that urban dictionary has censored out, are not just good friends, they are the family that we get to pick.

Raging Bull In Six Flags Chicago

     I am so glad that I have found so many people who are willing to do things like that with me, especially when I left home for college. I am proud to say I have friends who take me to things that make me make faces like this. 

Midnight Train

     As the summer turns to shorter days and longer sunsets, I begin to miss the nine o'clock sunsets and the allure of  summer, the outfits, the possibilities, the heat. But as the start of another school year looms closer, so does the re-emeergence of my school friends. One of my friends from New York came back this week and me and another mutual friend immediately took advantage of his return and whisked off to out favorite haunt, White Palace. A favorite diner of ours that is conveniently open 24 hours. It is always there for us at 2 am when we need a break from painting, or sewing, or weaving, or when we need food and there is nowhere else to go. I have been there so many times that I don't even need to look at the menu, its not like I can just tell the waitress, "I'll just have the usual."(I've always wanted to have a "usual"), but I almost always order the Midnight Train (a belgian waffle fries and chicken strips) and a strawberry shake. It is golden carbo-load deliciousness and I love it.
     We took his shiny white cadillac down to White Palace, and I realized I hadn't been in a car since spring break (thats like a bit more than two months). Even then I was only in a car from from the train station to a friends house. I haven't driven myself in almost a year when I got my license. I am not a big fan of driving, I prefer public transport whenever possible, and when you are driving its so much harder to absorb the scenery.

 Anyway I'll write more about our cadillac adventures later... once I've recovered from one.

Alone

     I like being alone. I like the peace and the quiet and the ability to think about whatever tickles my fancy with out hearing some one else's voice buzzing in my ear.     That being said its not like I'm one of those sad loner people who has no human friends and 13 cats. I just don't mind the calmness of being alone. I like not having to be considerate about other peoples opinions and feelings, I am a bit of a control freak, and not hearing about peoples relationship issues is always a plus. Trust me listening to someone squawk on for 30 min plus about weather or not he or she likes you and how every insignificant move they make could be symbolic of their true feelings, I have a solution to this problem and its called asking them.
     This is why I like sitting in Starbucks for hours reading a book, or wandering around AIC with my headphones on looking at Picasso, Liechtenstein, and Rauschenberg. Its not because I want all the boys to "holla" at me or because I'm a sad girl who wants to eat her feelings, I just like the peace and quiet, and the stress lifted off my shoulders as soon as leave Jones Hall.
     I am an RA for the summer at my college which would be tons-o-fun, but during the summer my building isn't full of college students, its full of high school students. So things can be a bit stressful and highschooley...
     I deal with kids who are constantly worried about their reputation, appearance, and the opposite sex. So lets just say life here is never boring even if we wanted it that way. This plus living in a city makes being alone like the search for the fountain of youth, the northwest passage, the lost ark. Searching for silence, and solitude in Chicago can make you feel a little like Indiana Jones. So lets just say I've had to re write the definition for such words. 
     On my time off I like to just be. Its never silent, even with noise canceling headphones, and I am rarely truly alone, but if I spend too much time here I get a serious case of cabin fever.
     Its not that I don't have friends. Its just the ones that I miss the most, the ones that truly matter, aren't here, and I don't feel like replacing my fleet of porsche's with pintos.

the Weather

     When I decided to move to Chicago for college people told me the weather was going to be awful. Being from Northern California where its freakish if it's below 35 in the winter, but not uncommon for it to be above 100 in the summer, I got used to the idea. However it didn't even snow here this winter. Well it did, but it didn't stick and it was certainly no "Snowpocalypse"like the year before, it was just uber cold and windy. I had prepared for the worst, down jacket, snow shoes, costco packs of coco, tons of cute winter accessories, but it was never that bad. In winter Chicogans rock the Michelin man look with down jackets and puffy layers.  Even native Chicogans in winter remind me of the Lumpies in The Secrets of Droon books I read as a child. All puffy and pillow-like  they could lay in the street and use their massive jackets as sleeping bags and nap rather than face the frigid lake winds. I certainly wasn't used to the cold winter I experienced here, I never had a "mental health day" but I never had to trudge through snow.

Chicagoans look like Lumpies
in their winter wear

     The summer here is completely different. Its actually not that hot. Only upper 80's low 90's, but the humidity is what makes summer disgusting. If it were like this in Cali I know I would see wayy more girls walking around Raley's in bikinis and the micro short would be worn by everyone. But the midwest has a whole new fashion compared to California when it comes to summer. First off short shorts. In Cali it's the norm, they are so common there is no need for repetition, they are just shorts. Here in Chicago most women and ladies shorts reach to mid thigh, where as my shorts from home just cover what on most people would be my ass (but I am assless). Secondly lots of women wear huge sun hats, although common on the beach scene, wearing them while walking around Chicago forces people to give the hat wearer a very wide girth as if she was inside a bubble. Quite impractical for a crowded city. When the wind blows from the lake creating stroung gusts that blow through the canyon like streets these ladies look like blushing nude sculptures as they hold their dresses down and their hats on. Thirdly, people are wearing a lot of really long and over sized stuff, long jersey cotton maxi dresses, big parachute- like pants, oversize tees and mens shorts. Sure these are all the fashion these days, but when it comes down to it weather should be the deciding factor when it comes to fashion. Sure these people look cool and they got swagger, but it it really worth it to be uncomfortable all day? The humidity makes even the coolest cotton shirt stick to one's skin like temporary tattoos, so why make the problem worse. I admit it though, as a fashion student there are some occasions when I suffer to be beautiful. However I have learned that in such cases I just end up complaining the whole time. I personally detest and utterly despise complainers so I have learned to sacrifice fashion for comfort in certain situations, as to not be a hippocrite.
    Chicogans I say do, it adopt the Cali staple, wear the short shorts, and the bikini tops, if you can. The maxi dresses and oversize clothes are not functional in such a humid climate. You will be much happier in this sticky summer rockin' shotie shorts and showin some skin, I know I am.

Escape

     I like walks. I like the wind in my hair, the feeling of the ground under my thin flip flops, the noise they make as I wander, the feeling of the outdoors, and the freedom to go any where.
     When my family moved to our current home in Sacramento we were excited to be closer to the bike trail. "We will go every weekend now its so close," we said. "We can even bike to the lake," we said.
But the thinking of going biking all the time is very different from actually doing it. We constantly ran into excuses. "My bike has no air in it." we said. "It's too hot" we said. "We're too busy," we said. "I don't even have a bike," I said.

     As much as we originally said we would go biking, it just never happened. Then on my 16th Birthday my friend came over, we wanted something to do, but we didn't have a car, and Sacramento isn't exactly known for its public transportation. So we resolved to for a walk to curb our restlessness.    
     As we reached the bike trail, the sounds of the city faded away. Long gone were the sounds of cars whizzing by on the pavement. Lost were the sounds of kids and their dogs. We left the scent of freshly cut grass and boiling asphalt behind. We had barely walked half a mile and the only trace of humans was the bike path and the neat yellow line running down its belly.
      Along the trail we saw wild flowers bursting through the grassy meadows, dear grazing and pausing to see who was passing through their emerald lands. We heard the calls and chirps of finches, crows and magpies, working a symphony with the ra-ta-ta-tap of woodpeckers and the constant wushing of the river.
     As we reached the river we were greeted by the uneven and smooth stones under our feet, the cold tickle of the water under our toes, the smell of fresh earth in our nostrils, and the sight of this beautiful oasis tucked into the outskirts of suburbia.
     Since then my family and I have made the short trek to the river many times. During the summer its our weekend ritual to walk down to see the sunset, and feel the cool breeze as we escape from the heat of Sacramento.
     This summer is different. I decided to spend it in Chicago to continue my studies, and I am working for SAIC as a Summer Resident Educator. (its like being an RA, but for the high school students who are studying here for the summer) So i've been missing the escape the river had always brought me.

     Chicago is a much bigger city than Sac and also boasts its own river, but it is surrounded by concrete and even had its flow reversed in the 1900's because it was polluting Lake Michigan. I crave the escape the calming summer sunsets the river brought, the escape from noise and people. In Chicago its hard to get away from city life. The beach is fake, its sand imported, it lacks a tide, and the people who visit it take no regard for others so its littered with every thing from wrappers, to broken liquor bottles and even clothes. Its noisy with seagull calls, car honks, and police sirens. The shores of the beaches provide no escape for me.

     The only place that brings me peace is a gated park just north of Navy Pier, Olive Park.
 -Its named for a Chicago native Milton L. Olive III, who served in the Army during Vietnam. He gave his life for his fellow soldiers when he threw himself over an enemy grenade he was posthumously awarded a Medal of Honor and a Purple Heart.-

      Its such a peaceful place, the tree lined main path reminds me of the bike trail back home. The cool breeze from the lake washes over you and takes the sticky humidity of the city away. Deeper in the park is a fountain long drained of its water, providing a gathering place for water after summer showers. Its here that reminds me most of home. I sit on the edge of the fountain with my toes in a puddle, leaning backwards to lay my body on the dewey grass that surrounds it. If I close my eyes and put on my headphones, I can forget everything on my mind. I can ignore the noise of the city. I can escape the smell of warm sewage and sweaty tourists. I can leave the taste of dirty air behind. I can forget all my worries, and my homesickness for my river path. I can forget how much I miss my parents, and my dog. I can forget all things I have to do, to remember whats important, and for a moment I am back home sitting on the edge of my river with my toes in the water my body on the grass, and my head in the clouds.