I haven’t blogged during the second half of my time in Chicago. In fact, I haven’t posted anything since early November-over three months ago. Though a lot happened during that time, the idea of sitting down and writing something about my recent experiences or reflections always just sounded like a chore. I didn’t feel like I had anything to say that I hadn’t already said.

I absolutely love Chicago, and it had really started feeling like home. However, going back to Texas over Thanksgiving and Christmas helped me realize just how much I really do love Dallas. It’s my true home, and I ultimately want to end up back there. I was always tentatively planning on moving back to Dallas at the 6-month mark, but that’s when I made the final decision.

So, the new year has seen my heart and mind pointed southward. I still adore Chicago, and I’m so glad that I’m here, but I’m also very excited about getting back home and finally settling in.

Now that my days in Chicago can be counted on my fingers and the toes of one foot, my emotions are becoming increasingly conflicted. More on that later.

Good luck, and good fortnight.

I really like Chicago. I mean, I really really like it. I honestly cannot imagine a better, more epitomic American city. It fully embodies exactly what I’ve always thought a metropolis could and should be. Chicago is simply a great town. And the experience as a whole has been as contrary and different as I’d hoped it would be.

Having come two months into my time here, it’s becoming increasingly fascinating to look back on my time in Chicago. The more time that passes, the more perspective I have on the infant stages of the journey. Even in the short amount of time so far, there are several distinct stages that I can identify though I was largely oblivious to them at the time.

The first few weeks could best be described as disorientated. I was grappling with my complete lack of stability, routine, home, familiarity and purpose. I had a small trickle of freelance work, but not a steady job. I had no friends, events, groups or any other identity here. I’d wake up in the morning, lay in a strange bed, and have no idea what I was going to do once I finally got up. But since everything was new and fresh, I was able to keep myself distracted from having to face a lot of the confusion by walking or riding around various neighborhoods of the city.

Fortunately, two weeks after moving, I got the job where I’m still working. I only found out about it three days before I started, but the addition of that constant and the routine that came with it helped me to break out of the somewhat lethargic and purposeless state that marked the first few weeks.

The next month saw me slipping deeper into routine and comfort with the city. I became very familiar with what would become my stomping grounds – an area probably a mile squared, with my apartment sitting at the far north end. 90% of the time, I was either at work, at home, walking the mile between the two, or on Rush or State Street between Division and Chicago (about a half-mile stretch). I became a regular at two Starbucks, a Chipotle, a Walgreens and a Jewel grocery.

I’ve always been a creature of habit, and this adventure clearly hasn’t changed that. I thrive on familiarity and a certain level of predictable routine. It was only natural for me to create and hold onto as much of that as I could here where familiarity is a rare commodity.

But one of the main reasons I’m here at all was out of a desire to break out of familiarity and routine. There’s nothing inherently wrong with those things, but they can turn into blinders. Since the area I’ve been frequenting makes up 0.2% of the total area of Chicago, I think it’s safe to say that’s the case here. So, with that realization and a few other factors, I feel myself moving into a new phase.

But that’s conversation for another day, I think.

Monday morning, I’ll pick up an SUV from Avis, drive it home, load it up with all of the stuff that I’ll be taking with me up north, and probably try to take a nap. Then around 9:00 or 10:00 Monday night, I’ll set off for the wild north. It’s about a 15 hour drive, so I’ll probably see the Chicago skyline crest the horizon around noon on Tuesday.

Lord willing, I’ll pick up the apartment keys, spend half an hour hauling all the stuff from the car to the apartment, then drive a mile downtown to Avis, drop the car off, and spend 15 minutes walking back to my new home.

The apartment I’m leasing is a total of 325 square feet. For perspective, that’s about 18.5′ x 18.5′, or a mid-sized living room. It’s a bed, office desk, bathroom, closet, small dining table and corner kitchen. I don’t even know where I’m going to set my piano up. I’m on the third floor, and I’ve got a small window that looks north over a parking lot and Division St.

The location is near La Salle Blvd. and Division St. in the Western part of Gold Coast in central Chicago. I’m a five minute walk from the beach, a two minute walk from the train station, and a 20 minute train ride from nearly anywhere in the city. There’s an Apple Store less than a mile away, and a Chipotle two blocks down the street. Life is good.

It feels less surreal than it seems like it should. I’ve been dreaming of this for a year and a half, and now that it’s finally happening, it doesn’t feel weird or risky. It just feels right. I’ve been asked countless times how I’m feeling about it. Nervous? Worried? Excited? Anxious? I’m definitely excited, but not the slightest bit nervous or worried. At this point, all of the unknowns are pretty much taken care of. I’ve got my apartment nailed down, rental care reserved, heck I’ve even scheduled the guy to come out on Wednesday and switch the internet on. Frankly, I’m more relieved to finally have an end in sight than anything else.

Beyond that, though, at this point the scariest part is saying goodbye. Saying goodbye to my fantastic friends, my amazing family, the places I’ve always known; basically saying goodbye to my life thus far. Everything else is happening so quickly that most of that is tucked away in the back of my mind, but I know it’ll be more difficult than I expect it will be. Even if it doesn’t hit me until I’m sitting alone in my Chicago apartment next week, not knowing the name of a soul within 500 miles, wishing more than anything that I could see a Texas sunset.

But that’s the nature of things. The closer I get to leaving, the bigger that part of me that wants to stay grows. Countless times over the past few weeks, I’ve just suddenly had an overwhelming moment of “I don’t want to leave” in which nothing seems to matter except that I stay right where I am. But it passes as quickly as it comes, and the clocks ticks a little bit closer to the 30th.

Ultimately, I’m just ready to be there. It’s going to be a difficult few weeks, but I’m ready to be doing it rather than thinking about it. Everything about my life will be completely different, new and unknown, but at least I will be settled somewhere for a while. I won’t be concerned with making a huge move or reaching some giant goal anymore. I’ll be concerned with trying a new coffee shop, or eating at that one restaurant, or finding the park, or learning the public transportation system.

I’m not concerned.

Lord willing, of course.

A few weeks ago, I pulled the proverbial trigger on something I probably should have done years ago: Taking a risk. Doing something reckless. “Giving it a shot.”

Having been birthed and raised in the suburbs north of Dallas, I’ve never lived outside of a circle 20 miles in diameter. I went to a local college, living with my wonderful parents (and sisters) until six months before graduation. I took jobs always where close friends worked. It’s been great, and I wouldn’t change the past decade even if I could. But nowhere in all of that have I ever really done anything a little crazy or risky. Nothing that put me outside of the comfortable world I’ve always known. And having no reason to move or branch out, I’m on track to stay here for my entire life.

And don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with that. But as I get a bit older and I look back on my adult life, those little “what ifs” start to rear their heads, and I can’t help but wonder how things would have ended up if I had branched out a bit. Normally I would internalize all of that and use it as fodder for future self-loathing. But not this time.

Past decisions are over and done; time has washed its hands of them. There is nothing I can do to change my early 20s. But there is something I can do to change my late 20s. So here goes.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to live in the city. Urban lifestyle is so appealingly different from my hitherto suburban experience. Waking up on the 23rd story of a rundown apartment building, walking two blocks through the crowded streets to catch a train to take me across town so that I can spend the morning reading in the park. Sighing as I groggily realize it’s another stormy Thursday, until the sight of my ridiculously oversized umbrella makes me smile and I whistle over the rainy din as I walk to work. Well, that just sounds charming.

But staying there, settling down, and raising a family in the hubbub of the city? That sounds slightly less charming. So my solution is this strange extended business trip / vacation / walkabout hybrid. My plan is to live there for six to nine months, then come back.

The proverbial trigger that I pulled was putting in an official two weeks’ notice at my job of three and a half years, which will end this Wednesday. On top of that, I’m moving most of my stuff into storage in the next few days, and staying with my parents for a few weeks while I get the other details worked out. A lot still has to come together for me to actually make the move, but I’m hoping to be up in Chicago within the next three weeks. Again, Lord willing.

I’m also working on (yet another) Cabeeb.com overhaul that will be better suited to chronicle my little adventure, amongst other things. Though it will likely not fully come together until I’m well into said adventure.

If you’re the praying type, I would definitely appreciate prayers leading up to and in the midst of this. I’m ashamed to admit that I initially made this decision with very little prayerful consideration. But now as I’m praying, not for confirmation but for unbiased direction, God has given me several affirmations that this is what I should be pursuing right now. It might fall apart, or change midway into something completely different. But for now, this is what I think I’m supposed to be doing. I just want to be poised to follow wherever He leads me every step of the way.

I’m ecstatic, terrified, anxious, overwhelmed, and at peace all at once. It’s a strange place to be, and unlike any point in my life so far. But I absolutely love it.

Even if something happens tomorrow that completely demolishes the plan, leaving me jobless and homeless, I won’t regret one bit of it. Because for once, I gave it a shot. I put it all on the line and went full tilt from the light to the hazy twilight of the unknown. When I’m 70, I won’t look back on the summer of my 27th year and think “What if…”

Like I said, Lord willing.

Pardon the pun. If it can even be called a pun. “Absolute disgrace to all of mankind” is more like it. But, I digress.

So, I bought a piano about a month ago. An electric piano, but a piano nevertheless. I was going to write a post about it right after I got it, but I wanted to post up some pictures, which I never took. So, a month later (ten minutes ago), I decided to just go ahead and post about it.

And, I’ve completely, thoroughly enjoyed it. In fact, I would go so far as to say I “love” it. Not in an “undying, soul-bound, heartbeat-of-my-life” kind of way, more like a “materialistic, shallow, platonic” sort of way. I love being able to just sit down for a few minutes and play around or get lost for hours at a time.

Thus ends another pointless, poorly thought-out post.

Updates to follow.