Driving into the west side of my hometown, the welcome sign says, “Place of opportunities.” That’s the tagline of the community I come from. This past summer, I checked job listings in the local newspaper every week.
Here’s what I found: unless I suddenly gained superwoman strength to lift 70 pounds or had cattle-herding skills and a truck driver’s license, I need not apply. My only other viable option for making a living seemed to be settling down as a hog farmer’s housewife. And for that, I only have one word: pass.
I come from a small town in a rural area known for its farming and manufacturing communities. That sign on the west side of town mocks me.
And that’s one reason why I left. One reason why I’m here.
Hello, Chicago.
***
After three weeks in the city, I can say it would be easy to complain about the food and clothes I can’t afford. And it would be easy to complain about the “cozy” apartment, public transportation, and the internet and cable company that took two weeks to show up.
But I didn’t come to Chicago to have an easy time. I came to be challenged in ways that only a place as diverse as the third largest city in the country can afford. I came to discover a place where opportunities and my desires align, a place where my talents can fill a need that reaches far beyond me.
I came to live the dream, and nothing about that is easy or as glamorous as you think it should be, especially when you’re trying to live off of something called a broke student’s budget.
Little about city-living is as glamorous as it appears on TV. But sometimes it’s fun to pretend, if only for awhile, before reality sinks in.
***
As I was window shopping on Michigan Avenue the other day, I walked into Chicago’s newly opened Topshop, which is London’s leading clothing store. I love British fashion, but the prices make me feel poor … That is, until I step outside the shop doors and see a homeless man on the street corner begging for a dollar. I don’t know the meaning of poor.
The sights of the city change in an instant.
At the end of the day, I might not be wearing the latest fashion trends or dining at a top-rated Chicago restaurant, but I know where my next meal is coming from – even if it is Ramen noodles.
Appreciating the little things means not getting overwhelmed by designer label clothing stores like Louis Vuitton, Burberry and Michael Kors that I see on my way to work.
Living off of little and learning to love what you have is a matter of city survival. And who’s to say I can’t find happiness in a bowl of noodles?
Ironically, I came here to escape the simplicity of small-town life, but I have seldom lived so plainly or cheaply ever before. It’s all about perspective and what you’re willing to accept as a way of life.
I don’t know about you, but I choose Ramen over the role of hog farmer’s housewife. And for that, I’m happy, and no one can take that away.
