Chargo

Last night I went back to the closet, this time with Ellie in tow and a specific mission in mind. One of the Pride events I signed up for is a rainbow bar crawl set for tomorrow afternoon into evening. The event is one of the special ones to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of Stonewall and the place that bars as a whole had in the Gay Rights Movement. When I read that description it occurred to me that, while I know plenty about Stonewall, I don't know much about the role of bars as a whole. I was hoping that if I went back to The Closet on a Thursday Sue, the bartender who was there the first time and made a point that she was old enough to be my grandmother, would be there again and might be amenable to giving me a gay history lesson. Unfortunately, Sue wasn't there this time. Instead a beautiful young bartender with a bright hummingbird tattoo on her bicep took her place. Still, I enjoyed showing Ellie my favorite place in her own city, and we made nice conversation w

Last night, to continue my Pride week extravaganza, I went to another Second City show, this one their Saulute to Pride. Following my knowledge from my first Second City show, I arrived an hour before the show started, fifteen minutes before the doors would open. My obsessive timing was rewarded with a seat so close I could literally reach out and touch the stage. I was seated next to another woman around my age who was also there early, and we made pleasant small-talk. I learned that she was also from out of town, but was in for her job with a journalism non-profit. She had been a communications major, and had just graduated the previous May. Given our overlapping interests, we found plenty to talk about. Before the show started, I ordered the Pride Party Punch off their special Pride show menu. It was a delicious rum-based drink, and the sour-candy pride flag was a welcome surprise. The show itself was the funniest and most relatable thing I had ever seen in my life. I

On Monday, Ellie and I sort of went to a speakeasy. Really it was a themed bar, and there were some interesting contradictions to the story like the bar being in a bougie neighborhood and the fact that the online address for the bar lead to their valet station, but given that we don't live during the 1920's Prohibition, I think they got the vibe pretty close. It added to the experience that I, and then we, managed to get a little lost looking for this tropical speakeasy-themed bar, Three Dots and a Dash. The first error was entirely mine, a simple case of walking the wrong direction on the street after I exited the train. After that, it seemed to be by design. I followed the mapped directions to the bar, but when Siri declared my arrival, nothing that even resembled the entrance Ellie had described was anywhere nearby. She had told me the bar was situated in an alley that was lit by tiki torches. Even when I walked the rest of the way down the street, I didn't see the ent

I almost decided not to write about this, and it was the strangest feeling. I love to write. Writing makes me feel more connected to myself and the world. I don't think I've ever had something special and thought, Wow, I really don't want to write about this  before. For some reason, this time, it almost felt wrong. It felt like letting go of something I desperately want to hold onto. I guess the tradeoff of writing like this is that I end up having to share what I'm writing about with the world, or however much of the world wants to listen. I'm not sure if I want to share this. There's a piece of myself that wants it to belong entirely to me. That doesn't feel quite right either, though, so I'm going to follow my usual instinct and write. Hopefully, as writing always seems to, it will bring me answers. On Saturday I attended my first major pride event, Pride Fest, with Chloe and some of her friends, at least some of which are now also my friends. I wa

Here's what our parents don't always tell us about doing the honorable thing when we're young and they're trying to teach us right from wrong, folks: sometimes doing the honorable thing kind of sucks. Today I had to quit the job that was so hard-won, because obviously that's the right thing to do when I'm not going to be in the city for much longer. It's a fact I've been stressing about and losing sleep over for two nights now. The night before my final call to the voter outreach people, I was worrying about having to quit if it didn't work out. The night after, it was a more solid worry. I imagined just about every worst case, including people being mad and people being disappointed and having mistakes I had made during training thrown back at me to prove I had never been invested in the first place, thoughts I knew had no ground but still couldn't shake. The knowledge that I was going to do this face to face only made my worries worse. Life i

Today I made my last effort to get through to the voter outreach organization I applied for a job with. It didn't work. My inability after a full week to even get in touch with these people marks the end of my efforts to stay in Chicago. It's clear at this point that nothing I came here to do is going to come through, and with that being the case it's not worth it to fight the battles I would have to fight to stay. I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a tinge of melancholy to the way I'm feeling about this right now, but all-in-all I'm okay. This blog has been important to me, and being able to look and see just how many posts I've made in the two weeks I've been out here fills me with pride. I'm happy with what I've done. If I go home now, it's a victory. If I tried to drag it out the rest of the summer for the sake of staying with no real opportunities on the horizon, that victory would sour. Still, it's not time for a wrap-up po