Guest post: experience in 1970s downtown Chicago

I ended up getting a Letter to the Editor published in the Chicago Tribune about how downtown Chicago isn't a scary place, and mentioned that the 1970s and 1980s were worse. Then Marilyn Cosentino, a coworker from Daley College, sent me a link to a post she wrote about an experience she had in downtown Chicago in the late 1970s. I am reposting it here instead of merely linking to it.

The Night of Terror

I called the parental homestead to see how Sibling #6’s Special Olympics basketball tournament had gone. Father answered the phone; I never actually learned how the games had turned out. And despite having been at the basketball tournament with Sibling #6, the most mundane of topics can quickly become hot button social commentaries for Father. “Boy, have you been watching all the trouble in Egypt?” he asked. Then, without missing a beat as the two events are connected in ways perhaps only a lunatic would immediately comprehend, he added, “Do you remember the night of terror?” I laughed. Even though I wasn’t a participant, how could I ever forget the night of terror?

Many years ago, my Irish Aunt was in town for a visit. She spent a few weeks with us before taking the Greyhound on an unmercifully long journey to the upper reaches of nowhere in western Canada to visit her daughter. Downtown, where the bus station was located, was little more than a cesspool. There was no Millennium Park, no flower boxes, and lots of criminal activity during the day, let alone at night.

The Aunt’s bus to the middle of nowhere Canada was departing the Greyhound Station at around ten o’clock at night. While late 1970s downtown was shady at best, the Greyhound depot was Starsky and Hutch type stuff. Working security there one night, Father noticed a guy hanging around that looked an awful lot like one of the country’s ten most wanted at the time. The guy took off when he noticed Father giving him the eye, but eventually Father made the arrest. It turns out he was one of the guys on the wanted poster. Like I said, the bus station was real life Starksy and Hutch.

Anyway, as Mother didn’t drive, the job of getting the Aunt to the bus depot fell to Sibling #2. Along with the Aunt and Mother, Sibling #2 brought along the Boyfriend to provide some semblance of protection. It was one of those stiflingly hot summer nights where the air is so heavy and unmoving you feel like you just might suffocate so Sibling #2 had on the air condition in the old blue wagon on the drive downtown. Now, should she have known better? Of course, but the Boyfriend had some entitlement issues so I’ve no doubt the air was on for his sake and not for the sake of the Irish Aunt so completely unaccustomed to Chicago’s height of summer mugginess.

Everyone was a bit on edge to begin with, what with the heat and having to descend into the bowels of the city to bid the much loved Aunt adieu. So naturally, about a mile from the depot, the blue wagon caught on fire. (We refer to it as the blue wagon to distinguish it from its predecessor, the yellow wagon.) Turns out Sibling #2 really should have known better about use of the air conditioner. Thus began the night of terror.

In a scene reminiscent of Scooby Doo, they decided to split up. Sibling #2 and the Boyfriend set out in search of Father who was on duty somewhere downtown, to let him know where his car, with its melted air conditioning belt, had been abandoned. Mother and the Aunt found a cab and took that to the bus station. After getting her sister on the Greyhound, Mother began walking back to State Street where she would catch a bus home. The problem, of course, is that Mother’s sense of direction is never particularly good. And when the underworld of derelicts that crawled the streets began to accost her and literally paw at her, she fled in a blind panic. I can just picture Mother, dressed in one of her signature paper thin t-shirts with the sleeves and neck cut-off and a pair of really short running shorts, streaking through downtown in absolute flight mode.

Turns out she was running in the right direction as she eventually ran right past Father, who was hanging out in a dark doorway. He called out to her as she sped past, but she was so terrified, his presence didn’t register even when he repeatedly called her by name. He gave chase and when he finally caught up with her, he had to grab her in order to get her to stop. When Father tells this story, his eyes crinkle up as he chuckles over his disbelief at seeing this familiar looking red-haired woman sprint past. We all have trouble catching our breath because we are laughing so hard as his eyes turn into two moons in imitation of Mother’s unseeing, terror-filled eyes. I’m sure the event probably left a deep, damaging gouge in Mother’s heart, but that doesn’t seem to detract from the event’s hilarity. And I’m not sure why Father was standing around in a dark doorway. In fact, it has never occurred to any of us to ask him about it. This is, after all, the man who would run home from work in subzero temperatures and shrug off our concern for the large black patches of frostbitten skin on his body by saying, “It’s nothing. Just dead meat.” Really, why wouldn’t he be hanging around in a dark doorway?

Meanwhile, Sibling #2 and the Boyfriend had set off from where the car had died near State and Wacker. They walked south on State, with groups of undesirables literally circling them and making sucking noises and “come on, baby” type comments to Sibling #2 and threatening comments to the Boyfriend. Like Mother, Sibling #2 was fond of the little outfits. Therefore, she was also experienced with having sucking noises directed at her, but never by groups of people that would circle her while doing so. Eventually, they made it to the Burger King on State and Congress where Father sometimes hung out to protect the non-criminal element that unwittingly entered in search of sustenance. As he was lurking in a dark doorway at the time, they instead found a different police man at the Burger King who then radioed Father and told him where he could find his car.

Sibling #2 and the Boyfriend then caught the #62 Archer Bus home. Father also put Mother on a #62 Archer bus and she, too, got home safely. The Aunt made it to Canada and then back home to Ireland, where she was able to regale her countrymen with her harrowing tale. As for Father, by the time he got off work much later that night, the car had cooled off sufficiently enough for him to drive it home, not quite the worse for wear.

And while I only wanted to find out about a basketball game, Father, ever the police man, used a favored lunatic parable, The Night of Terror, to reinforce the importance of serving and protecting. As Father discussed in great detail, whether it’s street protests in the Middle East or criminal gangs in Chicago, both are rooted in a fundamental break down in basic humanity due to our unfailing acceptance of intolerance and inequality coupled with a devastating lack of compassion for our fellow man. When burdened with all that, I could see how a basketball game might seem rather insignificant.

I like people who like people

A while ago, I was talking to a boss about how much work they have and how many fires they have to put out. They also have to deal with lots of different people in different jobs and departments, and it all adds up to complexity and what seems like a bunch of headaches. But the boss simply said, "I like people." And I believed it. I rarely hear people say that they like people, because I think a lot of people don't like people. They just tolerate them, or act friendly and then talk about them when they walk away. People are, of course, able to run their personal lives how they want, pretty much, but when it comes to work, it's important that managers like people. (ok, I just realized this is related to another blog post that I wrote: If you're in the people business, like people)

I've experienced managers who don't like people. They don't say it, but it's clear they don't. They want the position, money, and/or title, but they don't want to deal with people. They seem to want to work alone and avoid interaction, or they have little tolerance for questions or comments. They don't even like small talk. Why are these people working with people? They should make room for people fans who want a management position and who are willing to learn how to most effectively maximize their human interaction.

Outside of teaching, I haven't had to manage people, but I really like people. And I like working for people who like people, because they have a kind of appreciation of people's quirks, and aren't afraid to leave their office doors open, or walk around the place to see how folks are doing, or answer their phones and emails when there are problems. It's very important to have private time, and no one should have to work 24/7, but it's really great when someone takes the time to explain something or say hello instead of expecting people to work like robots devoid of emotion.

And it's not about avoiding confrontation and doing only what others want you to do in order to be liked. People who like people can have standards and give constructive criticism, and still like people even when they don't really reciprocate. It's really an appreciation of human beings and all the drama of life. Those are the kinds of people I like and enjoy working for; they know not everyone is perfect, and they appreciate diversity, not just in terms of ethnicity and background but viewpoints as well. People who like people don't mind if people disagree with them; they're fine with discussing something and will listen to someone else's varying opinions, because they know that the world is vast and not everyone is the same. Plus, they know that only knowing others who agree with them is limited; there's so much to explore, and they're not afraid to dive in.

Sometimes I meet people who explicitly state that they don't like people and don't want to deal with them. Other times people I encounter act in a way that reveals how repulsed they are by people, especially those they can't control or who don't match up exactly with their standards. We're not going to like everyone, but people should at least give others a chance, and give them a break when they mess up or aren't perfect. Some people are so petty that if someone doesn't look or act in a way that they want, they blackball them and make them feel small. Others simply shut people down; they can't stand small talk or attempts to connect (unless everyone is busy working or making a deadline, which is understandable) and cut off the conversation. All they want to do is function in their own space and don't want any kinds of interruptions to their own agenda.

Now that the social world is changing during this virus, the anti-people folks who have jobs or situations where they don't have to interact with people can thrive because they can just remain alone, and the new societal framework will support them. I want to say more about this topic, because this is really more of the work-related aspect of it, and in the general world, I really like people who like people, so maybe that deserves a post as well. But the bottom line is that when I get the chance to work with people who like people, it makes the work environment a lot more pleasant and less detached or cold.

p.s. Amazon Kindle book and print book at the Eckhartz Press site.

New year, new job

I think I've already written four or five versions of this post because I feel like I'm over-sharing or being too detailed and personal. But this work-related milestone is worth noting because I started this blog when I was always working at home (before it was a trend or a social-distancing necessity) and needed an expressive outlet, and now I'm not working at home all the time anymore.

Okay, so after many rewrites and revisions is this: the bottom line is that I have gotten a full-time job after 30 years of not having one. I've only had one since becoming a post-college adult, and that wasn't even in the USA. I've been working for myself, then eventually as a one-person business (established in 2009), since the mid-90s.

Even though I have written the amount of years more than a few times in previous posts, I still feel uncomfortable about stating that because in some industries, there seems to be a bias against people who are older than 35 in the workplace. But don't worry, ageists; I'm technologically savvy, exercise regularly, have good references, a solid work ethic, and am adaptable. I wouldn't have gotten the full-time job or have been so busy, even during the pandemic, if I weren't capable. 

I'm one of those people who has benefits that seem to make up for the pay. And I'm not being falsely modest about my deflated situation; I should get paid more for my experience and attention to detail, but let's just say the cash doesn't seem to be flowing that much, so I am still doing other jobs in addition to my full-time one. I always thought that if I took a full-time job, I'd quit freelancing and teaching, but I've spent too many years building up that equity to stop doing it. So right now, I'm simultaneously working in academia and in the non-academic world. I was even asked recently if I could teach yet another class, but I have no time left. I wish I could do it all, but I can't.

Even when the take-home pay doesn't seem like that much, having benefits seems like a luxury. For several years, if I didn't work, I didn't get paid. If I got sick, I didn't get paid. If I wasn't given a class to teach or wasn't given hours at a part-time job, I wouldn't get paid. Now I can take paid time off, can get sick, and can even take a personal day. I'm still getting used to it. Over the years, between all my gigs, I've called in sick only once in over a decade and have rarely gotten sick because I've figured out how to stay healthy. I'm not going to become a slacker, but at least I have that buffer now. 

Before I took this full-time job, I was offered five full-time jobs, and I didn't have to apply for any of them; they asked me to work there after seeing what I could do. Even though the money was better, I didn't take them because I really liked working for myself and living on the edge, essentially. It was an adventure to stay in the game and stay sharp. But when this full-time job came up, I had a good feeling about it and applied. I had already done the job temporarily, so I knew what to expect in terms of responsibilities, but I was worried about office politics and mean girls/guys. I hadn't grown up with such people in my sphere, but now that I've encountered them in my adult life, they're enough to cause me to avoid the whole scene. I was also worried about going to the same place every day, sitting at the same desk, doing the same things. My days used to be complex and different; many times I'd wake up and forget where I was going. Now I know that eventually I have to go to that full-time commitment, even if I have to do one of my other jobs before that. 

But so far, it hasn't been bad, though it took a month to get used to it. The first couple of days I closed my door and didn't talk to people because I couldn't believe I'd committed most of my hours to one place. I can't make appointments or go to the gym at random times during the day any more, so I have to do things after business hours or take a chunk of day to go to the doctor. I used to do freelance work, play tennis, then resume the work. I don't even know when I can play tennis again, or if I'll be able to meet people to play with who are at my mediocre level. I need to explain to people why I can no longer join their Zoom groups during the day, and if I want to meet up with people, or just talk on the phone, I have to do that on weekends or at night. My part-time schedule, where I had to show up at a physical location, was random, but I worked around it and it added to the thrill ride-type of existence. Now my days are solid. I feel more calm, but I can't let go of having to have a backup plan in case the situation dissolves.

I was just talking with someone who worked at other places full time, so they didn't have to adjust like I did to showing up five days a week. But we both agreed that because the environment is professional, the job is enjoyable. No drama like at other places. Plus, my boss is probably one of the best I've ever had, maybe the best. They allowed me to keep teaching, trust that I will put in the forty hours (which I do), and trust that I will meet the deadlines. They leave me alone to do what's needed, and their constructive feedback is polite. I'm never yelled at or demeaned, and I can discuss issues when needed, and work independently successfully. I also don't feel like I have to dumb-down my speaking style with them, end my sentences with question marks or vocal fry, or act like an airhead to get their attention. It is very hard to find good bosses and non-toxic workplaces, and here's where I highly recommend the Asshole Survival Guide, which is a must-read for anyone who is working anywhere. 

What I realized working full time is that I like to be in control of the process and work flow. Previously, I was in control of how I was shaping my work life, but I always had to follow what someone else wanted, and if I implemented it to their liking, I stayed employed. I couldn't really speak freely to suggest another way because the other person had already set a process that worked for them, or they basically didn't like people and didn't want to engage in unnecessary conversation. As long as I could effectively fake introversion and stay subservient, I was fine. I even had to be careful about what my emails contained; they could not include any personality. Now, even though I'm still working alone, which is what I've done for years, I don't have to fake bland introversion in emails as well as offline; I can add a smiley face, and it won't be held against me.

Now I'm the one in charge, and it's fantastic. No one works for me, but I'm still in charge of my occupational slot. I work with wonderful people who are conscientious, friendly, and deadline-oriented. I really appreciate them because I've worked with people who blow off work and don't care if other people have to pick up the slack, and others who mock the idea of having a work ethic. Since I can get work done on time or according to an optimal plan that I've created, people rarely bother me because the system I've set up goes smoothly. It's satisfying and seems nerdy because the accomplishment is in the details of implementation. Overall, I'm treated well, not nitpicked, and not perceived as weird, intense, or serious. At the end of the day, I essentially feel like I haven't worked. Because I have other gigs, I am tired, but I feel a lot more grounded and am really enjoying life.

I think one great characteristic of solopreneurs like moi is that we are used to being super-productive because the consequences of laziness or lying include losing hours, a class, a project, and our reputation. If we're jerks, people won't want to work with us. If we're high maintenance and can't learn things on our own or work independently, people won't want to keep us around. We are constantly being assessed because if we fail, we won't make money. So I should be able to be well-employed for the rest of my life because I bring a lot to the table. And as long as employers are open-minded to hiring Gen X'ers like moi who don't take anything for granted, I should be considered for future work as well.

p.s. Amazon Kindle book and print book at the Eckhartz Press site.

I finally took a vacation

I recently went to Southern California for a family event, and I made it into a mini-vacation that was very different than the life I live in Chicago. Even before the pandemic, I didn't travel much, so I wanted to be sure that the few days away would be enjoyable.

We (husband and I) had unused credit-card bonus points, so we decided to use them to get business-class plane tickets to LAX. It was easy to get through O'Hare because they were organized about checking documents, etc., and it wasn't as scary as I thought; most people were wearing masks, were polite, and were social distancing. There was no obnoxious behavior that I'd seen in viral stories about airports and airplanes. 

When we got on the plane, we settled into our business-class seats. A flight attendant asked if I wanted champagne or water. The choice was clear: champagne of course. Everyone on the plane was great; again, no screaming passengers or people refusing to wear masks. Since it was early in the afternoon, I figured we'd get to California in time to see the beautiful sunset over the Pacific Ocean before joining the family later that night. But the plane just sat there. Then we heard an announcement saying that we had to wait until they made some repairs. No problem, got another champagne. Then they told us to get off the plane and wait for another one. I figured it wouldn't take long, but it took over six hours before we were on a fresh plane. So our vacation started out being stuck at the airport for seven hours. We got a free meal in the food court, but Day 1 of California was gone.

If you care about virus precautions in addition to good weather, beautiful scenery, and delicious food, Los Angeles County is the place for you. Most people at the airport wore masks, even at the car rental place, and I've heard the vaccination rate is more decent than other areas. Since we were traveling in January, there weren't a lot of tourists around, so the mindset of those around us seemed to be of people who were used to following public health measures. 

By the time we got to Redondo Beach it was past midnight, and no one was outside. Since we rarely travel, we decided to make the trip more special by staying at a resort in a bay by the ocean. There were no ambulances or sirens that I usually hear in my neighborhood, just seals making noises on their lounging platform. I could see twinkling lights in the distant hills and smell the ocean, and I felt like I'd landed on another planet. 

I only got a few hours sleep because we had to get to Rancho Palos Verdes in the morning, and I wanted to wake up early to enjoy what we'd missed the day before when we were stuck at O'Hare. Our room faced a small bay that opened up to the Pacific Ocean, and the seals were continuing their party on the platform, diving into the water as if they were also fluid. Birds kept their wings open as they glided onto the water, then turned in their wings to float neatly on top. I watched them whenever I could, and wanted to take a picture or video of their elegance, but I didn't. I decided to enjoy the animals and the sea in the moment to keep that feeling with me, because I knew I'd leave that planet and would want to retain its sparkle with no barriers.

Stand-up paddle boards, sailboats, and motor boats passed by, including the fire department and other water authorities. Even though I never took any pictures, I will never forget what I saw because it was so different than what I experience every day. I saw large, beautiful homes in the hills of RPV and neatly cultivated and grown flora in the area. The plants and flowers are different from the Midwest, adding to that otherwordly experience.

It was hard to leave all that nature behind to go to the City of Los Angeles. After we dropped off the rental car at LAX, we had to get a bus to Union Station to take the Amtrak sleeper back to Chicago. Even though I love cities, especially downtown areas, I wasn't expecting much from downtown LA because I'd been there before, and it seemed to be gritty desolation. Once I got there, though, I was pleasantly surprised. The Union Station building is incredible. I live in a fantastic architectural city, but there are no buildings like that one. In the front are beautiful flowers and trees, and it's located in the old part of town, pretty much where the city began. 

And the area was lively. There was Mexican music in the historic area across the street (El Pueblo de Los Ángeles Historical Monument), and because our train wasn't leaving for a couple of hours, we walked over. Several people were dancing and listening to the music, and there were stalls selling handmade items and jewelry. I bought a colorful purse that I will definitely use once the weather in Chicago becomes warmer. The atmosphere was lively, and the historical buildings were well-preserved, which added to the quaintness of the square. The weather was perfect and I had a great time, especially because I didn't expect all that festive activity and cheerfulness.

Then we rode the Southwest Chief for a couple of days until we arrived at Union Station in Chicago. The pandemic had affected Amtrak staff and travelers, so the train was smaller than usual (I'd taken it a few times before) and there weren't as many people, so social distancing was possible (and most people were wearing masks). On the way to LA, Arizona is featured more during the day, but on the opposite trip the train goes through a lot of Arizona at night, so we ended up seeing more of New Mexico during the day. Both Arizona and New Mexico have awesome, in the true sense of the word, red rock formations that look like supernatural  sculptures, making the desert look like a planet related to Mars. All the nature that I saw from the train was humbling. And a positive aspect of winter is that I could see more beauty beyond the leafless trees, whether in Colorado or Kansas. When I've taken the train in non-winter months, all I've seen was green and flatness in the Great Plains. But winter adds another dimension, and the snow that I usually see in patches in my area creates a borderless blanket in the countryside.

I got back a couple of weeks ago, but I'm still thinking about my vacation out West. It was probably one of the best trips I've taken in recent years. I was tempted to take pictures or videos, but I decided to totally live in the present in every moment, being a participant or real-time observer rather than removing myself to try to capture what is best seen as-is.

p.s. Amazon Kindle book and print book at the Eckhartz Press site.

I wish I understood this Timo Torikka interview

I saw Timo Torikka in a couple of episodes of one of my favorite shows, Maigret (the French version with Bruno Crémer), and I kept wondering how he learned to speak such fluent French even though he's from Finland. I found an article in French that is now gone, so I did another search and found a French interview with him about "his life, his career, and his relationship with France" ("sa vie, de sa carrière et de sa relation avec la France"). I was excited to read it because I would finally find out about him, and if I didn't understand some words, I could easily look them up. 

But then I saw that it's a video interview, and the whole point of it is exactly what I want to know: "Comment Timo Torikka a-t-il fini par jouer en français et en France?" If I knew French well enough, I'd know by now because I would've watched the video and skipped to the parts that answer my questions! 

But now I have to figure out what they're saying. My French is horrible even though I studied it and translated it into English for more than a few years, but it's easier to read than speaking or listening, and if I don't understand what I read, I can look up the words online or in a dictionary. 

I turned on the video's CC which are French words generated by YouTube to attempt to transcribe the dialog, so I can understand it ok, though it's not precise. But the bottom line is it's difficult to understand what they're saying. Frustrating!

I'm sure if I ever go to France, or even Montreal, my French will improve because I will hear it all around me and will try to speak it. We have to use different parts of the brain for different language functions, and the speaking part of my brain is underdeveloped. I have the same issue in Spanish, though I have no excuse for not trying to speak because there are many areas of Chicago where I can speak to people from Latin America. I rarely see or hear French people in Chicago. But especially during this pandemic time, I should make more of an effort to improve those language skills. Bon chance to moi.

p.s. Amazon Kindle book and print book at the Eckhartz Press site.

Getting the booster

I would've written this earlier, but I wrote other blog posts that I haven't posted yet because they might be too personal. I showed one to a friend, and she said it was fine, but I still am not sure. But I want to describe my experience with the Moderna Booster shot because it wiped me out, as the second shot did.

I got the booster on Halloween, when availability was still limited to people over 65 and those with immunity issues, because I teach a few classes in-person, and education workers were amended to those earlier lists. I also live and work in one of the most populated areas of Chicago, and have been an Essential Worker throughout the entire pandemic, so I was pretty worried about the virus and wanted the booster for extra protection. 

I was incredibly happy to qualify, and figured I wouldn't experience many side-effects because it's less potent than the regular vaccine. But a couple hours after I got it, I started to feel lightheaded. I thought that would be it; I was lightheaded and spacey for a few days after my first shot, so I thought it would be similar. But then I started slowly feeling really horrible. I had a pounding headache, nausea, and I felt like I had the flu, without the fever, because my body felt heavy and I could barely move. I was horizontal for several hours and I felt like I had the stomach flu. I couldn't eat and felt so nauseated, I couldn't sleep. But I was exhausted and I felt like I couldn't think straight because I was trying not to get sick and my head was pounding. 

I lay down all day and night, and I was going to skip work on Monday because I was so wiped out. I'd already learned my lesson after the second shot: it's very hard to work when you're not eating, feel very nauseated, and feel like the earth is trying to pull you down to get you horizontal again. But I had a few things to get done at work, so I lay down as late as a I could, scraped myself off the floor (or couch; I don't remember because I was moving between my bed, couch, and floor), and got to the office. I got the work done, immediately went home, and lay down again. Thanks to the flu shot, I haven't had the flu in several years, but this felt like it; my body felt very heavy and I felt very tired, and I really thought I wouldn't make it.

After several hours of off-and-on sleeping, I finally emerged feeling relatively normal, though I hadn't eaten for a couple of days. I know that some people think not eating is great because we can lose weight, but I appreciate having an appetite because it is a sign of health, and I appreciate food. Now I am fully vaccinated and not worried about living and working in an area with tens-of-thousands of people. I'm still being careful about where I go, and I wear my mask. These limitations aren't fun and can be frustrating and depressing, but I'd rather deal with all that than get COVID, even a mild case, or pass it on to someone who could really suffer from it!

p.s. Amazon Kindle book and print book at the Eckhartz Press site.

It's easy for people to say they don't care about money, etc. when they already have it

One time I was in a person's house that was so large, I forgot the way back to the room where I was staying, and that was one of their two homes; they had another one in another state. The person also drove a luxury car, wore fine jewelry, went to upscale grocery stores, took amazing vacations, and could enroll their kids in whatever activities they wanted. They also didn't have to work, so they went to the gym, tried different diets, maintained their fit figure, and was in charge of managing their family's life. They told me that they didn't really need all that (the houses, money, cars, jewelry), didn't care about it all, and could live without it, which made me wonder: why did they purchase it? Why didn't they protest against it? And if they lost it all, how would they feel? What if they had to work to support the family, could not send their kids to tutors or good schools, and had to shop at discount stores and Goodwill? Would that really be okay with them? 

I doubt it. One famous speaker said that her husband had "made up his mind" that if he couldn't play golf anymore, he'd be fine with it. But he is still golfing and hasn't lost the ability to play. So what they're talking about is just a theory; the reality could be a lot more depressing. Why not make some kind of pronouncement once the golf goes away? Then that would be more believable. But until then, it's a nice message to deliver to people who would love to be able to play golf, or be able to have the time and money to do any hobby. There's nothing noble in saying you don't need something when you clearly have it.

There are many people in history who had a lot and through political upheaval, war, or just a bad economy, lost what they had and had to start over. Then they really found out what they need or want. We can be inspired by such people. But I don't really believe people who say things that are hypothetical. If you really don't need that wealth, give some to me. I know what I would do with more money, even though I technically don't need it.

I think that sometimes people say things to distract us from what we don't have. So if someone is being interviewed and they downplay what they have, or talk about how they love what they're doing so much, they can't believe they're getting paid for it, then fire the agent that got you that huge contract, and give some of that money away. Losing a job, prestige, support, friends, respect, money is not fun. It's much better to be able to afford things, shop for food without budgeting, live in a safer neighborhood, and not starve. It is much better. 

When I see people talking about not needing something, that their earlier struggling days were better, they're saying that because many people are struggling, and they're trying to connect with people. But I seriously doubt that they want to go back to the struggle, when they weren't sure if they could pay their rent or eat three meals or go out for dinner or drinks with friends. Even going on vacation seems like a luxury to a lot of people. The posers are nostalgic for "simpler" times while their bellies are now full and they can shop wherever they want. But if they lose it, they'll want the richer times much more.

p.s. Amazon Kindle book and print book at the Eckhartz Press site.

Fictionalizing what people aren't sharing

I recently read an article in the Chicago Tribune about a lawsuit "alleging radio star coerced sexual favors," which made me wonder why the Me Too movement hasn't touched the Chicago TV and radio scene. A lot of people in national media and movies have come forward with allegations, but not even a handful of people here in Chicago have spoken publicly about any kind of incidents. And not much seems to have been shared in other cities, even though I know it has happened at various radio and TV stations throughout the country.

Even though the "Me Too" phrase started in 2006, the movement didn't really blow up online until more than ten years later. But because I'd seen and heard various things in the media biz, I wrote a fictional piece about a Me Too-type of situation in 2009. It was in an anthology that my business published called Down the Block, which includes more than 15 authors' and bloggers' pieces (read the book below). One reader seemed to be impressed that I'd written something way before the Me Too movement. Another reader thought that I'd experienced this story, but honestly, I never have. But there are people out there who have had a similar experience, and have stayed silent. Why? 

Mister P

Mr. P lived in a penthouse near the Swissotel, right on the Chicago river. That’s where he prepped for his radio show, which was number one in Chicago. I had to go there because I was his producer, and he always had an open bottle of wine, which he knocked off during our meetings. He never offered me any, which was fine with me, because I was afraid of what I might say if I got even a bit tipsy. We’d meet there in the early afternoon, after he took his long nap and after I returned calls from desperate PR reps who wanted access to his near-million listeners.

He always liked calling me “babe” and it never stopped annoying me, but there was nothing I could do, because there were only a few shows in Chicago, and I didn’t want to leave radio. In a normal company, I’d be able to go to HR to complain about him, or at least would be able to talk to our supervisor, and there would be an understanding that such treatment wasn’t right, but the Program Director at the station was a good friend of his from junior high, and since his hobby was collecting candid photos of barely dressed teens off of MySpace to post on his office wall, there was no way I could talk to him about it. So I just ignored the “babe” and “sweetie” names, and I’d focus on the next day’s run-down, which Mr. P wouldn’t look at until right before he went on the air. Which made me wonder why I had to go to his place to prep, because he could care less about what was going on, as long as he kept getting his million-plus paycheck and could keep paying his ex-wife alimony, while I did all the work to put the show together.

“You know doll, you never told me if you have a boyfriend,” he said and leaned over until his belly spilled over his pants.

“I do,” I lied. There was no way I was going to let him know anything about my personal life. Or anything else, because I just wanted to put in my time with his show, pack my resume with experience, and move on to something better – and more normal.

“I remember when I dated this girl, I met her at my last station in Milwaukee,” he said, and continued telling me stories of how and where he bagged her, then chuckled when he told me she cried when he blew her off to move to Chicago.

“Lovely,” I said, staring at my laptop to find a good story for the 7:00 hour. I really wanted to tell him off, but I couldn’t because I needed this job to get ahead, and that’s what I kept telling myself as he continued to talk about himself, as he always did, no matter what the topic was.

“You ever do anyone at the station?” he asked, pouring more wine into his goblet, which had his face on it and the name of one of the show’s biggest sponsors.

“No,” I said, and tried to divert his attention away with a juicy story of Mayor Daley once again denying corruption in the city, but he ignored it, of course.

“I did – every station I’ve worked – keeps you on edge. You never know if someone will walk in, ha ha.” His double chin jiggled while he let out a snort.

There was no way I could sit there any longer.

“Yeah, well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, and packed up my things. I started to make my way towards his private elevator, and thought I was free until I felt a tug of my sleeve.

“Where you going?” he asked. He had a cigar in one hand and an almost-empty wine bottle in the other. “You want a glass?”

“No – I’ve gotta go,” I said, and was almost on the elevator when he suddenly pulled me back.

“Come on, we’ve been working together a long time.” He was so close, I could smell his cigar-wine breath, and could tell he doused a bunch of cologne on his lard to drown the body odor.

“I really have to go,” I said, and pushed the elevator button again since the door closed.

Then he pulled me back more violently, which made me fall to the floor. “Stop!” I yelled, and he pinned me down with his thick arms until I couldn’t move. “Help!” I screamed, but he stopped my speech with his slobbery smelly mouth.

I managed to free my legs enough to kick his flabby stomach, which was hanging over me. He slightly moved to the side, then tried to return on top of me, which just made me kick him harder. I kept kicking and kicking until he rolled to the side, and I ran out to the emergency exit, setting off an alarm. I flew down several flights of stairs and down to the street, where the sidewalks were filled with suited workers watching the tourist boats on the river. Everything looked normal, and it was even sunny outside, but I felt awful enough to take the next week off, because I was so broken inside, and could barely get out of bed.

So I was fired, and Mr. P even managed to get a smear piece written about me in the Times’ media column because the writer was a good friend of his, and he’d never believe my side of the story. Or care. Nobody cared, actually, because other people just saw it as a chance to try to get my job. So I took a break from radio.

Until now. I’m currently the Program Director of another talk station on the northwest side of Chicago, which I partly own thanks to some investors and my generous grandparents’ will. So I can hire who I want. And right now, Mr. P and his agent are sitting in my office, right in front of me, trying to convince me to hire him because his morning show was replaced with a syndicated one out of New York, and the new owners didn’t want to pay his high salary anymore. And now, Mr. P wants to work with me. At my station. So what do you think my answer is going to be?

p.s. Order and get info about my novel Wicker Park Wishes at the Eckhartz Press site.

Let's Meet at Printers Row Lit Fest! Saturday 4:30-6, September 11th

If you are going to the Printers Row Lit Fest this Saturday, stop by to say hello! I will be there from 4:30-6 with Vicki Quade, author of Close Encounters of a Chicago Kind, in Tent K, which is the Chicago Writers Association Booth. You can buy a book right there, or you can also order the digital version at Amazon right now, if you want :)

Reading easier text helps my Japanese

I am still trying to maintain my Japanese, even though I have no opportunities to speak it or even hear people speaking it, unless I go to Mitsuwa, which is far from my house. Before the pandemic, I went there once or twice a month, but I've only been there once since the pandemic began. When I go there, I shamelessly eavesdrop, even if I have to linger around a food fridge for a while, because live-speaking native Japanese speakers are rare in my area (I'd probably have better luck in California). A couple of years ago, I wanted to buy a croquette ("korokke" コロッケ) and asked the guy who was in the food booth a question. He said he didn't understand English, and started to get someone else to help, but I told him I could understand it. We said a few words, and it was wonderful! Another time I tried to speak Japanese, and it was a bust. I was visiting a radio show and was speaking with a Japanese guy in English. His friend didn't understand English, so I spoke some Japanese. The English speaker kept interpreting what I was saying, which made me feel like my Japanese was awful. I think it was because I didn't remember all the words I wanted to use, and my accent and probably syntax weren't great. I kept thinking that if I were speaking Spanish (which I can read but can't speak) at the level I know Japanese, they would probably get what I was trying to say.

I've been following Japanese accounts on Twitter, and I often have to look up words. Because Japanese can maximize the character count there, the tweets are longer than English ones. Sometimes I start reading them and want to give up because they seem so complex, even within that small space. And the kanji is brutal. There are thousands of kanjis to memorize, and just when I think I have a handle on them, many more pop up.

That's why I really like NHK's News Web Easy. First of all, the news stories are simplified, so I am able to comprehend the meaning via the sentence structure. And if I don't know the kanji readings, I can click 漢字の読み方をつける and the page will show all the kanji readings, and then I can click 漢字の読み方を消けす to turn them off. I can also listen to audio of the story as I read it. The only downside is that there aren't many stories to choose from, but it's better than nothing!

There is always the option of finding an article and pasting it into Google Translate, then playing the audio button. I don't know what happened to my favorite translating/deciphering website, Popjisyo. Is it gone? Before Google Translate became more robust, it was the go-to site for understanding Japanese and eventually other Asian languages (though I only used the Japanese part). I loved that site! But I noticed that Rikai is still around. Maybe I should try that. 

Update: I just went to Popjisyo and it's back! Please don't go away, Popjisyo!

p.s. Order and get info about my novel Wicker Park Wishes at the Eckhartz Press site.

I like making money

If I were paid well per hour, I would have made a lot more money than I have over the past couple of years, because I have racked up so many hours at my main part-time job and have stayed employed at my other gigs, that it would add up to a lot of dough. I have been working at different jobs simultaneously, and autumn looks like it's going to be super-busy as well, but I'm not getting rich. And that's okay, but I really wouldn't mind making a lot of money. I never have, and never cared if I did, but I've seen what it can do. Not only does it allow you to do more and decrease worry about being able to pay for things, but it really helps the economy and helps people live better lives.

This was clear when the pandemic hit last year. I live in an area with stores and restaurants, and they had to be closed, so people couldn't work. I ended up doing what I usually didn't do before: ordering out at least a few times a week to give the restaurants business. I saw the effect that few or no customers had on places, and even though I wasn't paid well, I was over-employed and didn't lose any work, so I used the money I made to spend elsewhere. I also sublet an office space when I could have easily worked at home, and I kept getting a monthly massage and eventually returned to the gym, and kept going to a trainer. I was really lucky that I could do all those things, and my employment still hasn't decreased. Now I'm thinking what else I could do if I had more money to spend.

There is a lot of consumerism, even conspicuous consumption, going on in my area. I don't know if the people who are buying luxury items or going to restaurants are thinking about the positive effect they're having on the economy, but they really are helping. Now I realize that if I were wealthy, I would gladly spend money at businesses and get various services. I wouldn't be irresponsible, because I've always lived within my means, but I'd do more. For instance, if I had tens of thousands of dollars to spare (and of course I don't make that much), I would get rid of my car and hire a driver every time I had to go somewhere. Many drivers could not work during the lockdown, and now they're catching up. I would gladly leave the driving to someone else, and it would give someone else money to pay their bills and improve their life. 

It's important to save for a rainy day; I've experienced underemployment and was laid off at one point, and couldn't find work and felt horrible. There have been times when my checking account didn't have much in it, so I could basically pay my bills and not do much else. Not having money is a real drag, and there are, of course, many people who are struggling throughout the world. Before the pandemic, I would look at busy places and think that I didn't have to spend anything there because people already were giving them business. But during the pandemic, there weren't many people around to patronize the businesses, so I realized my spending helps; it helps the people working there and helps those throughout the supply chain. Spending has become a way to help society, so now I'm seeing having money as more than just a buffer; when circulated, it goes in other people's pockets so that they can give their families more than just the basics.

I managed to travel a bit, spending a couple of days in Milwaukee and in Central Illinois. I was really glad to spend money on the hotels, restaurants, theater swag, and a museum membership. I wish I could do more, but I plan on doing what I can as I keep working and earning enough so that I have disposable income that can be shared in productive and enjoyable ways.

The fake blog is older than I thought

I've been doing some radio/podcast interviews lately for my debut novel called Wicker Park Wishes (this is not blatant self-promotion, merely a fact for the purpose of this blog post), and people have asked me how I developed the main character because she definitely isn't based on moi, and the entire story is made up, actually. I mentioned the fake blog, and thought I had been writing it for a couple years, but I actually started it four years ago! I haven't written in it every day, but I've been in touch with it since then, and would have posted more if the pandemic's lockdown hadn't happened, because what can you post about when you [your character] can't go out?

I thought I wouldn't want to keep fake blogging because the novel is printed, and I've already reached the 50k mark of the second draft of the follow-up novel (which no one has requested, but I'm doing it anyway). But I've realized that if I keep working and getting tasks done and meeting deadlines and being busy with lots of non-creative work, I really need to break away to have fiction fun. Weirdly and luckily, I've been over-employed during the pandemic to the point where I'm sometimes working four gigs in one day. And while I like being busy and don't plan on retiring, I don't do work where I'm in my own world, in control of what I'm doing. I have to get stuff done for other people and make sure I am productive so that my uber-employment will continue. But sometimes I just feel very constrained and drained, so even if I don't have time or the head space for working on the second novel, I can still get satisfaction from expressing myself in the fake blog. 

And this goes back to what I've said before, in a post that I can't find right now, that doing something creative allows you to step outside of the mundane and trivial to do something that you shape yourself, that you have control over. For instance, if someone doesn't treat you well or if you feel like you can't express yourself in your job, you can channel your frustrations into what you want, and no one can get to it. There's a freedom and release when we create something, like we're taking a trip without physically leaving our space. Even just doing this blog post is energizing, so that I can resume my technical tasks in a timely manner so that I don't get in trouble.

When I started this post, I was planning on writing in the fake blog because I've been feeling like I'm approaching burnout, and haven't used my spare time to create anything. I keep telling myself that even if I spend 15 minutes writing something that has nothing to do with work, I'll feel better, but I haven't done that. I think it's because I'm tired and am trying to make sure I sleep and exercise enough. But now that I've finished this post, I have a bit of time before I have to work, so I'm going to some fake blogging now :D 

p.s. Order and get info about my novel Wicker Park Wishes at the Eckhartz Press site.

Remembering Sam Wiener

I got an invite to a memorial for Sam Wiener, who sadly died in March 2020 at the age of 24, in the early days of the pandemic shutdown, and I ditched the other blog post that I was writing to write this.

Sam was known and beloved by hundreds of people who played tennis and took lessons at Northwestern University's indoor and outdoor courts. He went to Evanston High School and then went to college out of state, then came back to Evanston before finishing his bachelor's to teach tennis and help his family. Eventually he went back to college at Loyola to study business while still teaching tennis.

He was a really good guy. His father had had a serious bicycle accident, and Sam was there for his parents and spent time with them while his father recovered. When he told me about his dad's situation, I was really impressed because he'd gotten off the education track to help his dad and to be available when he was pretty much a teenager. He wasn't necessarily an outgoing guy, but he spent a lot of time helping and teaching people, showing incredible patience and understanding. 

I hadn't played tennis since I was a child, so it had been well over 30 years since I'd picked up a racquet or even gotten on a court. I was a horrible player and out of shape, starting from pretty much nothing; even when I played as a child, I just hit and had fun, playing on a court at the neighborhood park. I had never been athletic, while Sam had been athletic his entire life, so he was dealing with someone who was way below his level and ability. I even told him why I hadn't pursued sports, offering a bit of TMI, but he was cool about it, and even shared a bit of personal information about himself. 

Sam was an understanding person, and gave me great advice that not only helped me on the court, but in life as well: "move on to the next ball." He told me this after I repeatedly got angry at myself for missing a ball, full of regret that I was such a bad player and hadn't been physically active as he had been. But those few words changed my game. Since he told me that, if I missed a ball, I'd tell myself to move on to the next one; forget about the mistake I made and focus on the moment, what's coming up, and do my best.

Then I carried that over into my life. If something bad happens or I am disappointed, I tell myself to move on to the next ball. I don't ignore my feelings or stay angry or annoyed with someone, but once I work through how I feel I move on to the next ball, which is the next experience or next day or next person. 

Someone told me (or maybe it was him; I don't remember) that some of the Northwestern varsity tennis players gave him a hard time, sort of "pulling rank" for not being like them. Sam was a great tennis player, so I don't know why they would put him down like that. I have met former pro athletes, one who even has a Super Bowl ring, and they don't have such an attitude. When I talked to one former pro player about the college athletes that I'd heard about, they said once you play pro, you lose that self-righteous attitude. It's probably because the stakes are higher and everyone around them is excellent.

I am very sad that Sam is gone, and like a lot of other people, I wish I could have helped him. I know that he had some issues that he sort of shared, and I could see that his demeanor had changed and he was probably overwhelmed and/or stressed or concerned about things, but I didn't know what the details were. I knew that something must have been up because he looked different, but I didn't ask because I wasn't friends with him, just someone in the tennis-playing sphere. I think about him every day, and I will always remember what he taught me.

Taking success for granted?

I saw a documentary about a very successful author, and they were talking about how difficult it became to write, because there were a lot of expectations placed upon them, and it caused stress and anxiety. I don't know what fame and wealth are like, and probably never will, but I could understand how it could cause problems. 

However, it also made me think about the various people who pursued their craft, then became famous and wealthy, only to eventually say, "All I want to do is write/perform/play" etc., complaining about the demands of the business or being exposed to the public.

So let's break this down: they worked on their craft, dreaming of an audience, then they got the audience while also becoming wealthy, and then they're complaining about the situation. If they really only cared about their craft, or working in isolation, why didn't they stay there? When someone creates something special, and an agent or manager approaches them, signs them to a lucrative deal, perhaps after a bidding war, what do they think they're getting into? There are many examples and lots of information out there about the business, but it seems like they totally ignore it, assuming that contracts and commitments don't matter, especially if an organization has paid big bucks for their work. 

Even the first step, when an agent or manager wants to represent them, is a signal that they're getting into a business and will acquire an audience and an industry that want something and will continue to give them contracts and deadlines, especially if they've been successful. I talk to many writers who are having a hard time getting their work done because no one is waiting for their work; they have to motivate themselves to get it done. But some successful writers lament those contracts and deadlines, which would be a dream situation for the aspiring, struggling authors. The extrinsic motivation creates the momentum, but it's like the successful pros take it for granted.

Another thing I've noticed is that they sit in their large home, perhaps one of a few, and they talk about wanting a simpler life. But their success has opened all kinds of doors, not just the ability to buy what they want, travel where they want, and pursue the hobbies they are most passionate about; they are invited to the best events, are in demand as a speaker, develop friendships with some of the most talented people on the planet, and have access that most of the world doesn't have.

There are plenty of successful people who are enjoying the fruits of their labor. I recently read Irving Fein's biography of Jack Benny, and it is clear that he worked hard in show business to achieve an amazing level of success and fame. He seemed to totally enjoy it, and was aware of how wonderful and productive his career was, including hanging out with cool people he met because of his high cultural standing. His wife also seemed to love the luxurious lifestyle, and they had lots of friends and went to fun parties and lived life to the fullest. He obviously knew what he was getting into, and wasn't perplexed or disappointed by the demands of the business. 

Meanwhile, there are pros who are perplexed, stressed, or disappointed about the biz, whose success has put them in what people would consider a privileged position. Maybe they should help others out to achieve the same dream, or give them access to the dynamic opportunities and events when they don't want to show up.

p.s. My novel, Wicker Park Wishes, will be published by Eckhartz Press. Pre-order here.

My experience with the COVID-19 vaccine

I lucked out in getting a COVID-19 vaccine because on the day that I became eligible, I wasn't able to get an appointment, so I figured I would have to wait a while. However, as I was walking home from my essential job, I had a feeling that I should walk into Walgreens and try to get on a waiting list, in case someone cancelled. I talked to a pharmacist and explained how I was eligible (I was eligible in three work categories, which makes sense because I have five different gigs), and she put me on a list, telling me that I would have to show up soon after they called. I said no problem, since I lived very close, so could get there in minutes. 

I assumed that I wouldn't get a call, but miraculously I did that same day, and I happened to be walking home from the gym, which was also not far from the pharmacy. I ran over there and was stunned because I'm pretty sure I was the only person called in from the list that day, and I sat in the chair repeatedly thanking them because I'd spent the past year going to work and even teaching an in-person class, which had made me feel stressed.

Right after I got the Moderna shot, I was lightheaded and dizzy, and they had me sit in a chair. The dizziness subsided but the lightheadness didn't, but I walked home anyway, assuming I'd get better, especially because I'd just done an intense workout and figured that probably affected how I was responding to the vaccine. But the lightheadness and some dizziness stayed with me for a couple of days. I basically felt like I had a kind of brain fog, and if I tried to read something, it was hard for me to concentrate on the words. I could still work, but I couldn't focus in on details and I just powered through. When the fog disappeared I felt better, so I was in the clear.

Because I'd been a walk-in, I didn't have an automatic appointment for the second shot. I went into Walgreens and then called them a couple days later to let them know that I was due for a second shot, and I assumed I'd get it towards the end of the eligibility period. But again, miraculously, they called me in right away, and what's even more amazing is that I usually have to work on Sunday, but I happened to not be scheduled that day. So I got the shot on Saturday, would have all day Sunday to deal with the symptoms, and then go to work on Monday.

But my experience after the second Moderna shot was worse. At first, I felt a bit tired, and after I took a nap, I woke up feeling fine. I thought I'd dodged the dreaded symptoms that everyone was talking about, but late on Saturday night, I woke up with the worst headache I'd ever had, accompanied with serious nausea. I spent the entire night dealing with a pounding head, and no painkiller would relieve it. I kept feeling like I was going to throw up, and even drinking Pepto Bismol did nothing. I stayed in bed from Saturday night until 1 AM on Monday, and the only reason I got out of bed was to go to work; I didn't eat anything, just stayed in bed day and night, and then I had to be at work well before dawn on Monday.

Because I'm an essential worker, I had to go to work, and if I called in (not sure if I qualify for a sick day since I'm a part-timer and a certain amount of hours have to be racked up), there would be no one to cover for me at that hour. Maybe one of the bosses would've been able to come in and do my job, but that would be unfair to them, not only because I have the lowest job in the place, but they already do a million things. I had to drag myself into the shower and regular clothes, and I felt horrible. My body was exhausted from fighting the effects of the vaccine for a couple of days, my head was totally pounding and felt like it was going to explode, and I hadn't eaten anything in more than 24 hours. I managed to get to work by 2:30 AM, and I thought being busy there would make me feel better, but I just struggled to make it through. I still ate nothing and my headache was a bit better, but I felt gross and very tired. I felt consistently nauseated and achy and I really shouldn't have been there, but technically I wasn't sick, just having a strong reaction to the vaccine.

As soon as I was done with work I rushed home, got into bed, and slept. Then, suddenly, the headache and nausea were gone by the afternoon. I finally ate something and took no more painkillers (which had been useless anyway). But for the next couple of days, I didn't want to eat much because I was afraid of the nausea returning, and I continued to have body aches. It might have been a combination of lying around so much and still being affected by the vaccine. Luckily, painkillers relieved the aches and I eventually got better. By the time I was finished at the gym on Wednesday, I felt hungry enough to eat a meal and the aches were gone.

Basically, I rarely get sick, and I have only called in sick once in over a decade of working at various jobs, so my track record has been good. Maybe that's also why I didn't call in--I wanted to maintain my good track record. And because I rarely get sick, I wasn't used to not feeling well; I thought the symptoms would continue, and I was sort of scared when it took four days to feel totally normal again. I get the flu shot every year, and never have any side effects. I also never get the flu and rarely get colds. The one time I did get a severe cold was after my dad died, when my caretaking duties were over, and it was as if my body was telling me to drop the adrenaline and relax into illness.

A lot of people are doing whatever they want after getting both shots, but I'm still going to be careful because the pandemic isn't over, and I don't want the virus in my body, even though I have the means to fight it (as long as it works against the variants). Also, it's not clear if vaccinated people can still spread the virus, so I don't want to affect other folks. I'm glad I got it, but was surprised my reaction was so extreme.

p.s. My novel, Wicker Park Wishes, will be published by Eckhartz Press. Pre-order here.

View of the South Side via drone

As I've said before, I really enjoy teaching English to immigrants (English as a Second Language - ESL) at Daley College, which is on Chicago's southwest side. When I wrote that post, I had been working there for 13 years, and I didn't know if I would get another class to teach this semester. But I did get a class in January, so now I've been there for 14 years! 

We're still online due to the pandemic (and that area of the city has the most cases), but I've still gotten to know the students pretty well, and one of the students has been creating videos and even has a business.

Last week, he showed the class a video that he created via a drone, and it features the South Side (of course), near the Dan Ryan Woods. I've driven past that forest preserve many times, because sometimes a good way to get to Daley, which is located at 76th and Pulaski, is to take the Dan Ryan Expressway, get off at 87th street, and drive west. The video is below, and can also be viewed on Facebook. He's also on Instagram @chrisamfilms

Video: Dan Ryan Woods, by Chrisam Films

p.s. My novel, Wicker Park Wishes, will be published by Eckhartz Press. Pre-order here.

Novel coming later this year: Wicker Park Wishes

Update: pre-order by debut novel at Eckhartz Press.

I don't know how many people have been reading this blog the entire time, since around 15 years ago, but I've been talking and whining about trying to write fiction for a while. I managed to finish novels and drafts that I ended up throwing out because they were so bad; there was no point in keeping them around. Well, as I said before, I was working on a novel from fall of 2019 to fall of 2020, and after I mentioned that I totally finished it, I ended up sending it to Eckhartz Press. After some months, they said that they wanted to publish it.  

I actually can't believe what I wrote is going to be out there, and I feel sort of sick about it, not because I'm not glad, but because it's actually happening. I've helped other people write with none of my attribution (which is totally fine), and have my own bylines out there, including audio interviews I've done, but this is the first time that a novel will have my name on it. 

I've contacted some people to review it, and they'll be getting a copy when it comes out, which is later this year. Thankfully, one of the people who read the book pre-publication had this to say, and this is not a fake review; this is her honest opinion:

Margaret has a way of writing about Chicago and transporting the reader back to a time before the Internet was a part of daily life, before we were tethered to our cell phones and when you actually called people to make plans and have interpersonal relationships. "Wicker Park Wishes" really takes me back to the 1990s with Margaret's artful and accurate style of writing, and the descriptions of Chicago neighborhoods from that time make me feel as if I am really there. She does a great job painting a picture of Chicago without making it seem forced. 
— Tina E. Akouris

What I've done is set up a newsletter, not just to let folks know what I'm up to, but to promote other people as well. To get the newsletter, sign up to stay in touch here. Thanks!

Briefly talking to a human offset a ton of screen time

I was making a list of all the activities I did over the past couple of days online and on my computer, and you'd think I had the most dynamic work and social life ever. But all I was doing was looking and speaking into a screen, and the flat experience made me feel disconnected and down. 

Now to some folks, not interacting with people IRL and spending hours in front of a machine is a fantastic lifestyle. But to me and I suspect millions of others, it's a way of dehumanizing our existence. The architects of technology probably imagined a world that's efficient and does not have to be messed up by small-talking humans, so they've pretty much gotten what they've wanted. But to those of us who actually like heartbeats and laughs, it's been challenging, and spending time online socializing is two-dimensional.

Even though I socialized and taught online the past couple of days, and got a lot of non-people-related work done on my high-quality Mac that has a large screen, decent sound, and a sharp graphical interface, I still felt like I barely existed. I even walked outside surrounded by snow, lights, and notable architecture, but I still felt like I was some kind of detached machine that had unplugged from another. It wasn't until I went to the store to get a few items that I finally snapped out of it. All I did was order something from the deli, and when the person working behind the counter (and plexiglass) asked me to repeat what I said, I joked that one day we won't have to try to figure out what each other is saying through masks, and she nodded, and then I thanked her for taking care of my order. I don't know why that broke my automaton sensation, but I felt like someone had opened the door and cut the cord and allowed me to live in the real world again. 

I think it's because I had a spontaneous interaction with someone, and it wasn't work-related. I'm lucky that I can go to an essential job a few times a week, but there aren't many people there and they're all busy in a high-pressure situation, so even if we do chat, it doesn't feel like a break but a tense reprieve. And being at home for hours in a room getting stuff done and feeling more empty after scrolling through social media doesn't fix the problem, even though my productivity has increased. Having online meetups is better than nothing, but it all still makes me feel flat. I am conforming to the screen, not moving or interacting with anything three-dimensional, and I still have to fake introversion to keep things together. I feel like my face has become a wall, because I don't want people to misinterpret my expressions, so I try not to have any. And if I smile (barely), it's still an act, because I'm trying to stay in control of my screen image. 

And then there's this: part of the flurry of my online experience was a seminar that was led by a very talented speaker whose lectures I'd attended offline before. And that person managed to be animated and dynamic on screen, so they seemed to effectively transform their offline presentation to the digital space. But it was like what I'd observed before the pandemic: the person was really friendly and interactive, but I know they're really not like that. Yes, they're yet another person who seems to be so into people, but it might just be an act: one time we were heading in the same direction, and I was the only one who could drive them several miles back to where they were staying. I assumed that since they were so into people and so talkative, we'd have a conversation during the trip back to the city. But they didn't want to talk and didn't initiate any conversation. So the talkative, energetic, seemingly people-oriented person, who makes money from working with and helping people, wasn't really that way; they were withdrawn and awkward. So remembering their outgoing act became part of my excessive screen deflation and just reinforced the fact that it's much better to meet authentic people, especially offline. 

I love waking up early

A while ago, I had a part-time job that was not exactly the most thrilling situation. It wasn't bad, and the work was honest in a decent place, but it wasn't very stimulating. An introvert or person who doesn't want to deal with people would've loved it, but since I'm not introverted (thus had to fake introversion, as usual), it was difficult for me. Then I found a great article written by Jennifer Winter that gives advice when you hate your job.

There are three tips: get up early, make plans, and make a list. I actually applied all of them, and it helped get me through the situation. But the first point stuck with me because I ended up loving waking up early. I took her advice and woke up some minutes before usual, then it ended up being a couple of hours before departure time. I would watch TV, read, eat, drink coffee, and even nap. Then I would go to work, and I would feel better because I'd had a couple of hours to do what I wanted. It became a habit to the point that when I later got an additional part-time job, I woke up very early (though I was too tired), got to the job before it opened, and wrote in my fake blog or worked on my Nanowrimo project or just read. Then when that job started, I'd spent some time doing what I wanted, and I felt motivated.

I currently don't have any dreaded jobs, but I still like to wake up very early. The exception is if my work hours are tough; sometimes I end work at 1:00 AM, and sometimes I start work at 2:30 AM. I cannot handle waking up at midnight before going to work before dawn; I would probably collapse. But in normal situations, I often wake up early.

For instance, today I woke up before 5 AM, and I don't have to be anywhere until 8:30. I ate, drank coffee, spaced out, watched TV, read stuff online, sent emails, and am now writing this. Since I have to work late tonight, I'll probably take a nap later, or if I can't sleep, I'll do other stuff. But there's something about waking up early and doing stuff in my own space in the relatively quiet hours of the morning (unless there's drama or trucks or sirens outside) that is refreshing and motivating. It's like the day is blank and I can put on it what I want, and not many people are privy to the freshness. When I was free on Sunday mornings (now I usually work before dawn), I would wake up early and do things before I had to be anywhere. When I walked outside, I saw other early-risers, and it was as if the city was ours. Then later, the general public would join in, and it's like our exclusive early club was over, and we had to share the area with lots of other people.

Of course, I am not perfectly disciplined, so I have woken up at a normal time. But it's not the same because I'm in the rush with others, and I'm just trying to catch up. Also, if I have to be somewhere, there's not much space to ramp up to departure time, so there's no time-gift waiting for me; I'm just functioning and getting things done. And if I really sleep late, which is rare, my mood dampens and I can even end up with a headache. 

Basically, every time I wake up early, it's like the day is greeting me and letting me know that there are possibilities. The sun is breaking through the darkness and the beginning of the day is saying it's possible to start over or try something new. Sounds like I'm trying to be cleverly creative in my description, but I'm trying to honestly convey what I feel when I wake up early. Right now, I see the sun hitting the top of a building nearby, and it's letting me know that another day is opening up, and there are still things left to strive for and work to get done (because I actually have to get a lot done today and tonight...I'm definitely busy this week).

I "won" Nanowrimo yet again, for the sixth time!

Even though I said last year that I will never do Nanowrimo again, and I also said it the year before that, I did it yet again this year! If there were no pandemic, I wouldn't have done it, because I would have spent a lot of time commuting, working, and perhaps socializing (though my social life wasn't great anyway before the virus), but since we've had to stay at home so much and social distance, I had more time on my hands. So I figured I'd do it again. And I'm not as wiped out as previous years.

This year, for the first time, I joined writing sessions ("sprints") on Twitter, and they were really helpful. If I had more time, I would have edited what I was writing along the way, but since the daily word count had to be about 1700 words to reach the 50,000 by the end of November, it would have turned the couple of hours that I had free into several more.

In the past I had an idea and just wrote a bunch of pages about it, knowing that most of it wasn't salvageable. But this year, I took a character from the novel I finished and put him in the Nano draft as a love interest of the main character in this new book (he was a love interest in the previous book, and this takes place a few years later). You wouldn't have to read the first book to read this new one, but it would at least answer the question of what happened to him in the previous one.

And when I'm talking about "book," it's obviously got a long way to go, because during Nanowrimo I wrote a bunch of scenes that were really rough. I had the main character, had an idea of her journey, and other characters, and wrote a lot. But because I had to keep going, I would make notes along the way such as "check this" or "finish this." For instance, when the month ended and I thought about tech in the late 20th century, I realized that texting wasn't common. Flip phones had emerged, but even texting on flip phones didn't really happen until the early 21st century. So that's something I definitely have to fix in the rewrite. I also have to find out more about a south side neighborhood where some of the story takes place. I was in that neighborhood back then, but it was less developed than it is now, and the shiny police station there wasn't built until about 10 years after the time the book takes place. So there are a lot of "check this" in such sections because I don't totally remember when the transformation of that area took place (it was most likely seedy for the time period that I'm writing about, but I need to check just how run down it was).

Just as in previous years, I was so used to writing intensely that when December started, I still had a burning desire to keep writing. But then my real-world work responsibilities hit me like a wave, and I couldn't get the energy to write every day. But I have been writing often, by either reworking the Nano draft or writing in my fake blog, or here. Basically, I love writing and feel irritated if I go too long without creating something, because my life is basically about getting work done and not really generating that is unique to moi.

I just looked at what I wrote and it's still a mess. There are random scenes and holes. But the basics are there, and at least I understand who the central characters are, and the potential conflicts. What's cool, though, is that I discovered stuff as I kept writing, such as focusing on a ring or having the main character find something out about her mom that she didn't know, which in her world is quite a bombshell. I also figured out what her friend's issue is, which has made her bitter and rebellious, which also makes sense in the main character's world. So I'm on my way! But I have a lot to fix!