Life has been a bit crazed lately, as the intention and the decision and finally the act of moving 2,000 miles across the country to Chicago to be with my guy became a reality on August 26th, 2010. But every story ever told is a love story, so mine should be too, right? Even if it takes me away from L.A., the promise land, and even if leaving seems like a failure to many, love conquers all.
My (new) plan is to become the next Tina Fey, so I start classes at the Second City on Monday. I've also been writing daily and dreaming up sketch comedy characters. Determined and deliberate on my path, I was completely startled yesterday at an intersection near Union Station when part of my life's dreams came true: I witnessed a hobo rivalry. (See blog entry "To Do List" from November 3rd, 2009.) One man carrying a stack of newspapers was yelling at another man, who was missing half of his face and limping behind his accomplice at a safe distance. The leader, the loud one, was demanding that I tell him the name of the red-headed snowboarder who was at the Olympics. I pretended not to hear or have any such information, for fear of being further involved in whatever grift they were pulling, but he sounded it out for himself in front of me, finally coming up with Shaun White from the tip of his tongue. Then he scolded his quiet, half interested partner in crime that Shaun White was the man, and not Tony Hawk. I could hear him repeating this ad nauseam as they disappeared down the block, beating into his follower's thick skull the truth about who deserved to reign currently as The Man.
Maybe "rivalry" is a strong word for this exchange, but it still made me feel like I am in the right place in my life right now--the mean streets of Chi Town, bearing the gifts of fulfillment, one rowdy crook and his lackey at a time...
