I was throwing some clothes in the laundry, and for some reason it came into my head that I've come a pretty good long way since moving to Chicago, and that I'm probably generally as happy as I've ever been. You know, in my WHOLE LIFE or something. Deep shit, yeah. Still prone to occasional angst-fits and a few mildly self-destructive impulses here or there, and still sometimes overreacting to little things, but I'm not going for perfection. Just for plenty of good stuff.
I always say I feel like Chicago gives me what I deserve, but then again I sometimes say that people don't really deserve anything (they just sometimes get things and have to figure out what to do with them). I don't deserve anything specific and Chicago doesn't give me anything too specific; just a surprise from time to time. Information can be thought of in terms of surprise, in terms of what's different from the expectation. And I continue to observe, to become more informed, to take in more information, to be surprised. I think there's a deep well of that in this city. Many, many years deep. Lots of places to look, and when I look there is something there! When I feel the well is running dry maybe then I'll go somewhere else. Or maybe then I won't need surprise and information, but something different.