The Windy City

That's a photo of me eating Chicago snow. Delicious! Almost as good as Cleveland snow.

After months of blogus hiatus (that's Latin for 'I'm a lazy-ass blogger'), I'm posting from yet another city. I should contact the Guinness Book of World Records for having moved more times than anyone else in the span of a year.

I write from the cozy first floor Chicago apartment that I share with Anna, my best friend of 15 years. We live in Ravenswood, a raven-free but yuppieful neighborhood north of the city. It's quiet and peaceful, only one bullet hole in the front door. There are no bars on the windows...and hopefully no need for them. Nearby are Germantown, Little Sweden and Little Korea. Our landlady is Mexican and the tenant upstairs from us is a Korean man who loves to play 'Slow Ride' over and over again on his stereo. I feel right at home.

I'm settling in here, at least as much as one can settle with no furniture to her name and no job yet to speak of. I've got a few job leads that keep my morale afloat, and hopefully I will be able in some capacity to start teaching at least part-time this coming year.

In between job hunting and trips to the local library to stock up on novels, I spend my time maintaining an incredible long-distance relationship with Stefan, my Austrian Freund, who lights up my afternoons with German cuss words and discussions of American immigration laws versus Austrian immigration laws. It looks like for once Austria wins.