That Bloody Girl

I didn't tell you guys this, but on Tuesday we saved three lives. I mean, like we actually saved some lives. If we hadn't been called, if we hadn't responded with TFD, if we hadn't transported to the hospital, three people would have probably died. We saved a life. We saved three. I think that makes this job worth most of the shit we go through. Twelve hour shifts, mandatory hold over, little pay, lots of disrespect from the public--we don't exactly get the long end of the stick every day of every week of every month and so on. We usually just go about out business and people usually don't notice we're doing much, if anything. And, I know, for the most part, we don't always feel like we're doing much of anything at all. Ninety percent of the calls that drop every day in this system of maybe 200,000 people are priority two, completely silly, with no need whatsoever for an ambulance to be dispatched. But, we go anyway, because it is the job as we know...

My heart is two sizes too small. At least, that's what I've been told. I'm under a different impression. But, what do I know?  Everyone thinks they know me. No body knows me at all. Called the cops on my neighbors last night. Why was I surprised that they would chose ten o'clock at night as their scheduled band practice? (They, by the way, are not an excellent band, and could probably use the practice. They should just try it in the daylight next time.) Anyway, they knew who had called and I certainly am not ashamed that I did. I don't feel bad. Today is my only day off this week. I just worked six days straight, twelve hours each, and literally assisted in saving at least three lives. If I want to come home and have a relatively quiet evening that includes no band practice after ten pm, I am pretty strongly entitled to that  privilege, and the police are inclined to agree. So, yeah, I called the fucking cops, unwashed-hispter-neighbor-man-child. I called t...

So, I am almost gone from Chicago. For the upteenth time I'll be departing this city and I honestly still don't know how I feel. Being here was like being back, but I know that I am in another place and another time in my life, I know that I am slowly easing forward toward something bigger than even this. I know that if I do come back in a year: time, or whenever, nothing will be as it was as everything will be different. We're all moving toward something, and those somethings aren't always in the same direction. There will be no re-capturing the past or re-making old times. There will only be creating the future, one day at a time. So, the answer isn't in the city, but within me. Where I want to be, what I want to be doing, who I want to be with--those things can't be decided in one weekend. But, they can be thought on, and I can start to wonder--I have to start to wonder, because there is a lot I want to do and my life is always moving forward, every day ...

Somehow, I got to the restaurant before Chetara did. In fact, I seem to have gotten here before she even left her house. What I'm saying is, it could easily be another thirty minutes until she gets here, and I've been here thirty minutes already. Where ARE you, woman?! The waitstaff is polite about it and I honesty don't mind. See, Chetara is my best friend on this planet. I would probably not only help her hide the body, but I might actually help commit the murder. If sister's going to jail, I'm a-goin' too. Chetara is also my best friend that lives in Chicago, which leads to this segway--I'M IN CHICAGO. And I feel like I never left. And I feel like I want to move back here. For the past three years, I have tred to write Chicago off as a been-there, done-that city. Never to return but to vacay, I said; but, of course, I have missed it. Missed it and it's people. But, I also know I tend to romanticize the past and I love to get nostalgic, when a l...