the ‘one hundred twenty eight million five hundred sixty three thousand two hundred second’ plan

i love chicago.

ive lived here for three and a half years and i cant imagine another city that i would rather live in.

it’s a perfect match for me - metropolitan, 24hr public transportation, vibrant nightlife, a dynamic cornucopia of cultures (ha!), and a summer lifestyle that no one else can rival.

i fuckin love this city.

and yet six months ago, i found myself having a bit of a ‘moment’.

i found myself actually considering departing this fair city.

i was at a loss for words.

i was newly single, i had just been promoted, and my life was relative stable.

and yet here i was having a ‘moment’.

i was having a 'take stock of your life' kinda moment.

i was having an 'ask the questions, lest they never be asked' kinda moment.

questions like, 'am i where i want to be? am i doing what i want to do? am i meeting the people i want to meet? am i friends with the people i want to be friends with?'
but most importantly, 'am i (on the way to being) the person that i want to be?'

i gave myself a year to find out.

i decided that IF i couldn’t find the answers to these questions in chicago, i would have to look somewhere else.

i needed to decide if chicago could be home.

first of all, let me clearly state that this wasn’t a 'marisa tomei' kinda moment.

it wasnt a 'midlife crisis' kinda moment.

it wasnt a 'my biological clock is tickin' kinda moment.

it wasnt even a 'buy a porche, and date a girl half my age' kinda moment... because (lets face it) a girl half my age would be twelve and a half. ha!

it wasn’t any of these things.

instead it was a ‘holy-i-am-twenty-fuckin-five-years-old-shit!’ kinda moment.

(should twenty five year olds even be having ‘moments’?)

which is a good question, considering that twenty five is the perfect age.

its the 'goldilocks' of age groups.

its not too young... its not too old... its just right. ha!

and yet while i should be content to eat my porridge, sit in my chair, and sleep in my o' so comfy bed, this sense of restlessness pervades my thoughts, my actions, and my dreams. a sense of urgency that i dont entirely understand yet. a sense that something 'big' (for lack of a better word) is quickly approaching. change is in the air, and who knows when (or where) the other shoe will drop.

or maybe im just making all this shit up. (because with me, you never can tell.)

maybe im making mountains out of mole hills. maybe im bored. maybe im trying to force a fight club epiphany. but i cant help but feel like this upcoming year is going to be an important one. i cant help but feel like twenty six will be an age tottering on the cusp of dramatic changes - watershed moments that will ripple effect the rest of my life.

then again maybe im just blowing the proverbial ass smoke again. ha!

frankly, it shouldn’t be surprising that i feel the way i feel.

hell, im practically wired for it.

hell, we’re all wired for it.

we are all wired to the same ‘four year’ plan.

in between sips from your heffi’s and heini’s some of you may ask ‘what pray tell is the ‘four year’ plan?’

well let me take a sip of my own, and explain.

like many of you, i was born into the ‘four year’ plan. i didn’t have a choice. and even tho i didn’t realize that i was living it, i grew to accept it and even ‘enjoy’ it.

it gave me structure. it gave me guidance. it gave me a clear pathway from point A to point B, with plenty of milestones to observe along the way.

the ‘four year’ plan is a way of life. and we’ve all lived it. lived it and loved it.

so lets take a step back to explain what im babbling about.

the ‘four year plan’ traces its roots all the way back to kindergarten.

do you remember kindergarten?

yep, neither do i.

not much happens in kindergarten, but that’s where this all begins.

so stick with me.

four years after that and still not much is happening - but at least this milestone does mark the completion of your first four year cycle.

you’re just getting the hang of things.

four years after that and you are graduating from middle school (i.e. eighth grade) - goodbye childhood, hello teen angst.

add another four years and you are graduating from high school - goodbye parental dependence, hello college ‘independence.’

and who can forget the ‘grande enchilada’, your graduation from uni - goodbye 10am ‘early’ classes, hello ‘officespace’.

its hard to imagine, but these are actually significant moments in our lives.

its hard to imagine that these are actually the important milestones that we’ve worked towards, that we’ve lived through, and that we’ve celebrated.

its hard to imagine, but it’s the truth.

for close to 20 years, we’ve lived our lives in four year increments. each cycle represented by a concise beginning, middle, and an end. each cycle marked with its own excitement (i.e. freshmen year, fraternity rush, my own apartment), its own difficulties (AP’s, SATs, finals), and its own conclusion (graduation).

each cycle is distinct; each cycle is finite; each cycle marks a period of growth and maturity (in my case immaturity) that culminates and transitions to the next cycle like a baton passing along a relay team.

do you see where im going with this?

twenty six marks the first time that our lives officially depart from the ‘four year’ plan.

twenty six marks the first installment of life that isnt pre-scripted for us.

twenty six marks our final departure from childhood and our shocking arrival into adulthood.

for me, turning twenty six will represent all of these things, and much much more.

because when i turn twenty six, that will be the four year anniversary of my arrival in chicago.

four years in chicago and what do i have to show for it?

four years in chicago and what do i have to look forward to?

if i stay in chicago for four more years, will i know the answer to these questions?

probably not, but at least ill still be living in chicago. ha!

i don’t need to graduate from chicago to get closure.

i just need to find some answers to my questions.

... answers and maybe a thirteen year old with a porche.

ariel proves my nice guy vs. bad boy point ~