I spent most of my time growing up in Chicago, Illinois dreaming of being other places; dreaming of the warm California sun, the beaches, chill people, beautiful moutains. I wanted to get away from the frigid winters, face-paced lifestyles, and the violence and crime. So after graduating from high school, I took all of the things that I'd grown to hate about Chicago, fueled my application to Santa Clara University with my love for California, was accepted, and left Chicago, for what I thought and hoped would be for good. Now, I don't plan on bashing California in this post, don't mistake me. I love California. I enjoy the strip malls lining the streets, the overpriced shopping, the girls with bad spray tans, the boys with too much gel in their hair, the ability to wear shorts in January. I've always loved everything about California, and that hasn't changed since living here. However, what it has done is given me a completely new appreciation of the place where I grew up. Chicago will always be my home. I have dreams of walking my children down the Magnificent Mile on Michigan Ave. and having picnics in Millenium Park and working at the tippy-top of one of those amazing skyscrapers. I have dreams of running along the lakefront with my best girlfriends, attending swanky parties on the Gold Coast, taking my lunch break by the Chicago River. I have dreams of being close to my family that lives there, of maintaining my friendships that I've had since I was learning to talk, and of being happy. All of these dreams for me, occur in one place; it's a place with frigid winters, face-paced lifestyles, and violence, but it's my home.
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