Anticipated Floundering.

A Story:

Yesterday my roommates and I got home from our 4th of July festivities roundabout 12am. As Brittany and I climbed upstairs we discussed the woes of waking up before 6 to get to work while trying to maintain a social life. When we reached our place, we unlocked the door, jiggled the handle, and failed to gain entry. After about 5 minutes of fussing with it, we thought maybe there is a problem and we need to call the landlord. (Meanwhile, our next door neighbors were watching porn on their big screen tv with the window wiiiiiide open) While Brit called the building super, I tried to spiderman up the front of our building to break in through my window. After a few failed trials I decided not to risk falling to my death and went around back to try to open our back door. Would have gotten in had it not been for the chain slide lock that we had secured before we left for the day. Rather than give up so easily, I decided to see if I could finagle the thing and open the door. Following no less than 5 squished biceps and angry kicking of the doorknob, I stomped out to the back yard. From there I could hear our other (not the porn ones. though I'm sure they would have been happy to help) neighbors having a 4th of July get together on their back porch. So I crashed that, quickly introduced myself, and asked if they had a screw driver so I could try to break into my apartment. They gave me one but I couldn't get enough torque behind it. So (head literally hung in shame, frustration, and exhaustion) I went back to return the philips head and asked if they had a power drill. They did not. BUT their friend had bolt cutters. And he (lord and savior) left his party for a hot second to cut the door chain and finally let us in. Then kissed us all on the cheek and continued his party. I promised to bake them something. Nice guys.

The above story is a fairly accurate representation of my post-grad experience thus far.

A Memoir: 

Three months ago when people asked me what my plans were post graduation, I would say "flounder for a bit."

And flounder I have.

Step one was punching 2 new holes in my ear and bleaching the fuck out of my hair. I regret neither.

I'm working a full time job at a coffee shop. It's fast paced, crazy early hours, great staff, and decent tips. It's in the south loop and despite the patrons of the Ohio Street Beach and Navy Pier, my hour bike commute is consistently one of my favorite times of day.

With all the biking, my legs are like fucking tree trunks. If I were the type of person who liked working out at the gym, I would all but destroy the quad pump machine. With the change-up in my types of activity, my body slowly but surely adjusted to a new, more efficient form. I don't really need all the abs I had from dance, but my bike rides get faster every day from my quad overuse. I don't regret it. If I can sleep the extra 5 minutes at 3:30am, I will.

But, as all good things do, floundering time has come to an end. I'm ready (and financially able) to do a little more than make money, drink with friends, and recover from making money and drinking with friends. I've been working for 3 weeks now, have gotten a pay check, and am ready to throw myself at auditioning/networking/killing myself for art.

First on the docket is dance. Drop-ins are pricey, but I'm making myself save enough tips to take class at least twice a week. That's like, 2 nights I can't get drinks or eat out. Fine. But after the past few semesters, I realize just how much I need to dance. So I'm going to get involved in the scene here and see what comes of it. The dream would be to dance for a contemporary/modern company, but for now I'm just itching to get back into classes. I like knowing I'm working towards something greater than keeping a roof over my head and feeding myself. The only thing I'm not looking forward to is getting all those dance muscles back. It will hurt so good.

Another exciting step towards adulthood: I have a new apartment! As my roommates and I have deemed it, it's a "big girl" apartment. The management company actually cleaned before we came and (save for the door) we haven't had any major problems! The best feature of said apartment is that it's in Andersonville. Andersonville is easily one of my top 3 Chicago neighborhoods and it's cool to get away from campus a bit. I forget that families and 30 year olds exist sometimes. Now they're back. The second best feature of said apartment is that I HAVE MY OWN ROOM. Finally. And a closet. My clothes are on hangers. And I have furniture that isn't Rubbermaid. The sense of permanence is so nice. And by nice I mean I've already thought about how I could definitely move it all myself when the time comes, but for now I'm happy to not have to lift a dresser for at least a year.

This afternoon I decorated. It primarily involved ripping Orange is the New Black adds out of this summer's edition of BUST. Because if you can have a picture of Natasha Lyonne seductively biting a screw driver taped to your door, why wouldn't you?

In other news, my mom just left town. She was a super helpful mover and also partied way harder than me. No one is surprised. So much love.

But this grandma needs to go to bed like, right meow. I've gotten a collective 6 hours of sleep over the past 2 nights and I open again tomorrow. I'm not complaining, I love this. But Also, I'm literally losing consciousness right now.

Until next,
Kaitlyn