Trustworthiness

I spent a rather lackluster weekend in outskirts of Chicago. I’m not sure what I expected, but it went by quickly and we spent quality time with AJB’s mom (whom I like very much). AJB grew up about 40 minutes outside of Chicago-proper in a small town that can best be described as “Normal Rockwell”. Aside from being completely opposite of how I grew up, I find that despite how beautiful it is out there, I am unnerved by the constant grinding sounds of the cicada and the sheer volume of khaki shorts. It’s not Los Angeles, that’s for sure. There is also this sense that the white people out-number the colored people (or, people of color) and that when people stare at me, it’s because they really haven’t ever seen a girl with blue hair – which let’s face it, what year is this? Although there is something sorta sweet about being that naive, I can’t help but feel uneasy when I’m there. Perhaps it’s the stares or the startling lack of ethnic diversity. It could be the cicada or the “boring, normal, fine” mentality of it’s community. Whatever it is, I’m glad to be home.

Not that I love the congestion, the lack of any one language, the smog, or the fine layer of filth on everything around here, but well, I kinda do love it. I’ve always believed that the place you live in defines you in a way. Or at least, it says a lot about who you are. You choose the place, you become part of the scenery, and visa versa. I’m sure people from the Mid-West think that Angelenos are fake, plastic, snobs. Well, some of us are. And while I’m sure there are quite a few lovely rebels hidden behind the Squares in khaki shorts, they are fewer are farther between. I guess what I mean to say is that Los Angeles wears it’s heart on it’s sleeve a little better. Mid-Westerners, in their undying need to fit in, hide it well, submerge it behind their jobs and their kids. Mid-Westerners are not defined by diversity, they are in fact defined by how un-diverse they are.

Naturally, this is why I oppose my very own brother living amongst the faceless crowds of “boring, normal, fine”. I suppose I feel he deserves better. Then again, I think everyone does. I simply don’t understand how living that sort of life is fulfilling. Is it? Do people in the Mid-West look back on their lives and think “Damn, I wish I’d shook things up a bit!” And it’s not that they don’t have culture, it’s just not as raucous as the kind we have here – or in any major city. There is some value to living the picturesque Normal Rockwell life, but at the end of the day, I guess all I can really say is “Different stroke for different folks.”

Eventually I would like to get a real taste of Chicago. I’ve been out that way several times and the only real feel I’ve gotten has been behind the window of the passenger side. I am most positive that Chicago is where all the real weirdos live. All the color and music and culture. Strangely, you don’t have to travel very far to lose it.

I digress, I think Highland Park is a lovely little town and there is a part of me that thinks it’s just dandy and wouldn’t it be nice to raise kids there? A place where you can sit on your porch, drink Countrytime Lemonade, watch the world go by, and listen to kids call out “Olly, olly, oxen free!” as they run around on perfectly manicured lawns.

I’m just glad to be home. I’ll get back to my own brand of status-quo and remind myself to shake things up from time to time.