A Forty Minute Commute

Song: It Won't Be Long Now - Original Cast Recording x In The Heights

So, my second day in Chicago, I set out by myself to go to campus and pick up my campus card. One of the questions people always ask me about moving to Chicago is if I live close to campus. The answer is no. Far from it, actually. I live in Logan Square and campus is in The Loop (Downtown) and to get there I have two (really, one, but I'll amuse you) options: walk for two and a half hours (which at my sauntering pace would be more like 4) or walk to the train station, hop on a train, and walk from the closest stop to campus. Guess which one I chose?

My El train route is the Blue Line, which goes west to east to west in a nice curve, meeting at the loop with all of the other trains in the middle. So, I walk to this train station, trying to look cool and like I didn't just move here less than 24 hours ago, and I realize I have no idea where to pick up a train card, etc. All of these Chicago natives stop at this machine, there's a lot of beeping, they walk away and slide through the entrance to the trains. I'm thinking, maybe there's an office with a nice lady who will give me the card, ask me how much money I'd like to put on it, and then point me towards the trains - nope, there's just a machine. A few people look at me weird as I hover in front of this machine and closely read the directions before doing anything. Five minutes later, I've got a nice little silver credit card looking Ventra pass and proceed to slide on through to the stairs for the train. I notice that there's only an escalator for the passengers leaving the station - weird, but what do I know? When I get down to the train's level, there are two stations presented to me as options and neither of them are the place I want to go. I watch one train come and go before deciding to sit down and figure out (again) exactly which train to get on. Another train comes, creating its own little breeze, a few people sit on the bench with me, and then it leaves. Another train. It turns out these options are the first and last stop of the Blue Line - I need to get on the train that left when I got here, so I wait anxiously, standing up earlier than necessary to make sure I can look at the train cars before getting in one (tips: don't get on empty train cars and try not to get on overcrowded ones). I get on this train and the Ohioan in me asks a girl, "Do you mind if I sit here?"

No response. I sit, checking my map periodically, keeping my music low, so I can hear the train stations being announced, and debating on which stop to get off to be the closest to where I need to go. We go from being underground to up in the air, riding past the wonderful architecture and street art of Chicago, going through different neighborhoods, train stops, people coming and going. Nine stops (twenty-ish minutes) to the one I need to get off at, and I slide off that train in the bossest manner I can conjure up and just start walking to get back above ground.

When I get above ground, I have no idea where I am, which direction to go, etc, so I pull up my map and before it can figure out where I need to go, I just start walking. I hate crossing streets, and Chicago hasn't helped that fear. In this city, pedestrians can have the right of way crossing a street when it has no stop signs or stoplights and everyone honks all of the time and people are impatient, but people say these are the sanest drivers, so what's a girl to do? So, I'm walking, listening to directions from Siri in my head, and talking to my friend on the phone, and it takes me twenty minutes to finally reach Michigan Avenue from LaSalle.

Even my friend from Chicago told me: Siri will become your best friend trying to navigate this place.

Walking around The Loop, I realized two things:

1. This place is big as WOAH.
2. This place is beautiful and doesn't smell bad.

A Poetic Introduction

Song: Gypsy - Lady Gaga

Four years ago, around this time, I got into a car with my mom and aunt, said goodbye to my sister, and proceeded to drive down to Elon, North Carolina. I'd never been there, until that point, I'd only seen photos of its beauty and gorgeous fountains, gardens, and buildings on the internet. My friends had been and they all said the same: "It's beautiful, you'll love it." So of course, I got in and me calling upon the reckless, thrill-seeking, risk-taking girl inside, I went down to this small southern town and hoped for the best. I had seen my roommate via Facebook and I had friended/or been friended by the majority of the people in my building. I moved in, my family left me, and I was left to fend for myself, figure out the college lifestyle and make it work. I could have hated it, but I ended up spending the next four years in Elon, loving every single second of it.

Here I am again. Four days ago, I hugged my mom and sister, told them I loved them and walked away to my apartment building, up the three flights to my apartment, and attempted to get to know my roommate (who I had until that point, only known via email and Facebook). I didn't bring anything with me besides clothes, books, bedding, school supplies and a storage bench - no furniture, no food. My mom took me to buy a few groceries, so I have that. I bought an air mattress and it's quite comfortable. I put my good luck elephant (a present from a coworker) in the window as instructed, I hung up my clothes, and then I joined my roommate for a poetry reading (she's in the poetry program). The reading was at this lowkey, edgy, used bookstore a few blocks away and upon entering, we were greeted by a dog named Ramona, whose leash-like thing (one of those things you tie dogs up to outside to let them roam around...) allowed her to explore a wide berth of the store which was full of vintage books and chapbooks and hipsters all preparing for this reading. I won't give many details of the reading: there were 6 poets all of whom were excellent, but my favorite was a writer (Kathleen Rooney) who decided that she would read a lyrical essay about Chicago (I'm biased, but still) and it was awesome, even my roommate said that was her favorite.

Eventually, I'll get furniture, and eventually I'll stop binge watching Netflix and surfing the internet for things to buy to survive the Chicago winter (it's never too early). Soon, I'll start writing essays again, because I haven't written that much this summer, but instead have been more focused on getting previously written pieces published and have achieved a moderate level of success (yay for online publications!). But for now, I'm just trying to get the feel of being here alone - it's almost surreal that I have permanently moved from Ohio. This adulting thing is weird, but so am I, and Chicago is too (lowkey).

The Origins of Gesterbear

Song: Welcome Back - Mase

Welcome to my blog: Midwestern Rambling. I'm trying out this blogging thing again for those of you who have had access to and/or read any of my previous blogs. But this one has a purpose: my ventures in Chicago.

A little bit about me: My name is Negesti Kaudo and I'm twenty-two years old. I am a born and raised Ohioan and I, of course, bleed scarlet and gray. A recent college graduate of Elon University, I have Bachelor's of Arts in both English - Creative Writing and Psychology. My academic interests are an interesting combination of the two by focusing on human nature and condition, so basically: I want to know why we do the things we do. What else? I'm a writer, an amateur astrologist, and a pessimist. Last week, I packed all of my stuff into a minivan and my mom, sister, and I all traveled from Columbus, OH to Chicago, IL at 6am and I moved into a tiny apartment. Now I'm here, gearing up for my first year of graduate school for an MFA in Creative Writing Nonfiction, and the current plan is to be in Chicago for at least three years.

A little bit about the blog: That bear in the background is a Gesterbear, and she is by far one of my favorite graduation presents I received (and he sings!). Gesterbear is a nickname I received from my best friend on a trip to Chicago way back when in like 8th grade (can't be sure). Anyways, I hated the nickname, and got in trouble on an escalator for pushing my friend - she thought it was cute, I thought it was mortifying. Everyone called me Gesterbear (-____-) including my teachers and I couldn't stand it until one day, a girl in my class drew a Gesterbear: a teddy bear with dreadlock pigtails, an Oxford blouse, a red bowtie and a MacEwen plaid skirt. I loved it and continue to. Since then, Gesterbear has evolved: she cut off her dreadlocks and now has a nice kinky-culy fro, she burned her MacEwen plaid skirt and Oxford, etc... This blog is the one thing I have to chronicle my time and life in Chicago as I go through graduate school and transition into adulthood. I'll post about school, my writing, my explorations, and anything else I feel like.

Welcome to my world.

Disclaimer: I'm a nonfiction writer, so if you feel that our current relationship is nice where it is, I discourage you from reading my work because you may learn things about me that you could have survived without. I write raw, which means graphic, real, explicit, and I don't hold back. A lot of my work is sexual, so there's also that. This is a no judgment zone, and those who are guilty of leaving negative, offensive, and altogether not constructive critique will be blocked, banned, and removed my creative space. For those of you interested, welcome to my world.