Lake Shore Drive and Movies in Chicago

Have you ever noticed how many movies that are set in Chicago try to incorporate LSD into their footage/scenes? And how they all do it wrong?

For example, in When Harry Met Sally, they are definitely driving in the wrong direction on LSD if they are going to New York. Definitely definitely. They are sort of driving towards Wisconsin, actually.


Anyway I am watching My Best Friends Wedding and they clearly pick Julia Roberts up from OHare airport, and then Cameron Diaz is first driving (from the south side) north on LSD with the lake on the right-hand side, towards downtown Chicago.

Then, mere seconds later she is exiting onto Michigan Ave, CLEARLY from the north. Now downtown is on the right and the lake is on the left.

I'm just saying people, why must we be all about the LSD instead of the accuracy of the layout of the city? If it's OHare, why not just show shots of 94? And yes, I am making a larger deal than necessary. It's because this is my blog and I think what I have to say is interesting.

Hm....

I just watched New Year's Eve. It was a bad movie. I was not expecting it to be anything other than that. But I just read some of the reviews on Netflix. One person said it was the best movie of 2011.


I know we all have different tastes. We are allowed too. But to say it was the best movie of 2011 seems a little much. Just......a little..............much.

I am going to buy some gluten free cupcakes. Then I am going to go back to work.

Ai. I am working on my day off. What does that say about me???

SWITCH!!

It's 10:20 am on Monday, my first day on the floor as a producer, and people keep asking me how much I like it. My director has not yet given me my new event, my phone does not work, and I have been throwing away paper and sorting my old contracts from the last two and a half years of my time with this company as a sponsorship rep.

My new job simply hasn't started yet.

The questions are all asked with big smiles. How do you like your new seat? (Well, I am no longer facing the windows that overlook Lake Michigan and Navy Pier, now I am looking over a sea of computers and tops of foreheads and eyeballs....much more soothing, I must say, than sunshine and water and happiness) Do you LOOOOOVE being a producer? How much BETTER is it than Sponsorship? (I haven't produced a single thing, folks, except some orange peel trash from my chips n orange breakfast this morning.)

I am excited about this new position. I think that it will catapult me in a direction I have been wanting to go for years, career-wise. But being here, with this new perspective, has not adjusted or tarnished the view of my time as a salesperson. There are still some things that I simply loved about my (particular) sales job, and still some things that I really really hated.

I also do not harber any illusions about what my challenges in this role will be. About how high the expectations are of my success and how long it will take me (maybe a couple months too long) too recoup the losses of (possibility of) income that I had as a sales rep. I have grown a lot, and learned a lot. And I am hoping that this growing and learning enable me to become the person that I have dreamed of becoming for a long long time. But have I made it yet? Am I there? No, not yet. And I think this is why each of my darling, excited and young co-workers who asks these questions seem to irritate me so.....

I haven't made it just yet. But when I do....you can darn well be sure I will celebrating. And EVERYONE will know.

Addendum to 'Yes I went there'

After some consultation with married friends, it has been brought to my attention that looking someone up and then telling them you had a crush on them when you have a wife at home serves no purpose except hurting your wife and being selfish.

I have come to the conclusion that I agree. I would not object (as my friend C would) to connecting with childhood friends, but telling them about past crushing feelings seems really self-serving and therefore kind of bad. Very hurtful to the wife. Also, the brunch this weekend proved to me that said childhood friend doesn't really have an interest in ME as a human being that is/was a friend, but only an interest in me as I relate to him and his memories of me. Does that make sense?

This man is not interested in true, reciprocal friendship which means I will no longer be responding to his requests to see me when he visits Chicago. Glad to know this, too bad I had to waste a beautiful morning figuring it out.

Happy Monday!

Yes, I went there.

Very steamy in my apartment this morning. If only that were a snide reference to lots and lots of sex. But alas, I am single. The most action I get is taking the red line train in the morning during rush hour. Nothing like a bag up my ass or elbow in my chest. It's awesome. I am really well-loved, if being touched by strangers is any indication.

No, I think the heat must have been on during the night, because when I woke up this morning, my windows were covered in condensation and I was all sweaty. This time of year, when the weather is all over the place in terms of temperature, I am still indelibly thankful that I have to deal with being too hot as opposed to being too cold. You can always crack a window, and fresh air is awesome. Even in the winter.

I slept on my couch because I like my couch for sleeping and for a brief moment I thought it would be hilarious if I slapped my hand against the steamy window and slid it down slowly and passionately. Then passersby would look up and be reminded of the movie, the Titanic, and they would be envious of all the hot steamy love I was having at 645 am in the morning. But I realized, in the quickness of less than a second, that the likelihood of passersby who happened to look up to a second-story window on an early April morning was, well..non-existant. I live here, people, I know how empty the streets are in the morning. The joke was wasted.

Today I will meet a friend from childhood for brunch. Last time he was in town he confessed he had a big crush on me in childhood. He is the 4th person to tell me that since I became an adult. What kills me, is, of course, I had a big crush on him in childhood too. Now he is happily married and living in Mexico and when he comes to Chicago he looks me up and asks me to hang out. I feel very strange about this, because I AM single.

What is it with all the men and the secret crushes. Guys, had you asked back then, I would have said YES. I recently spoke with another childhood crush, also happily married, who confessed similar things to me. It's a nice compliment, for sure. I just hope that the next guy, instead of waiting years, just says something instead. It would be nice. Wow, the sun is really beautiful in the morning in my apartment. I am going to go live now.

A letter of apology

Dear 2011,

I am sorry. I feel as though I have neglected you, and now it is too late to remedy that. You have moved on to that other place, beyond reach, and there is nothing I can do.

Truth be told, I have spent a little more time writing in private when I could have been writing for you. I was sharing my thoughts in a space where only my eyes can see, but I feel as though after all these years of blogging, I owe it to you to acknowledge this neglect. (Hi Sarah, I think you may be one of the few people left who read this and I long to see your beautiful baby in real life soon!)

Ooooh, see what I just did? I disrespected 2011 by taking an aside to talk to a friend. Unforgivable, I know. I guess I just didn't feel the same drive, 2011, as I did in the past...as I do now, in fact. I am back, and though it may be of little comfort to you, I vow to give 2012 all the attention it deserves. In part, it will be an homage to you.

Thank you for what you gave me, 2011. It was a year of some significant occurences, moments of personal courage, building of resolve and humility, and a growing connection to some amazing and special friends that I am blessed to have in my life. Without you, 2011, 2012 would not have the momentum it does. I hear tell great things are in store. I owe that, in part, to you.

Thank you.

Sincerely,
Leslie

Revelations

I recently acquired a stronger lens, I didn't know until a short time ago that it even existed, but I am now able to look behind me with ever so much more clarity.

It's a relief and a comfort to have a new view on the past, I tell you. Things are put in perspective that before only exacted pain and regret. I am excited to see how this new vision impacts my present and my future. I feel really strong and content. Thank God, this is a great Fast.

Winter Hats

The difference between women who own a car in Chicago, and women who don't, is easily discernible by her headwear during the winter months.

One would think that a quick glance at the feet would be enough to know (heels=car, sensible walking shoes that may or may not be cute=no car) but I find that without a doubt, hands down, the more sure way to assess someone's car ownership status is to look at her head. If she is wearing something stylish but flimsy, something that only half covers her ears, or worse, does not even graze the top of the ear lobe, than she is undoubtedly, a car owner. She may take the train here and there, she may be known to hop on a bus, but rest assured, she owns a car and uses it frequently to do things like shop for food or go to the movies on the weekends.

If her head is completely invisible under some combination of a cavernous hood and comfy-looking hat, or her ears are covered completely in some witty way, then she is a pedestrian extraordinaire. As a pedestrian extraordinaire, I am at times awonder at the large amount of cute but non-sensible, non-warm, head fashion available at the many department stores I pass by every day. Twice, I have been given gifts by women who primarily drive cars. VERY cute winter wear, but in no way useful to me as a pedestrian. I have bitten the bullet and worn both gifts countless times (reason be damned), but my ears were angry that I did. I am still apologizing, in fact, to my right ear lobe. Seems pretty earrings do not appease her.

That'll be the day..

Every once in a while I very much want to eat a char-broiled cheeseburger and crispy hot french fries and wash it all down with a butterscotch milkshake, all the while listening to Buddy Holly singing "That'll Be The Day" on a jukebox. I think this is because my first job ever, as a fresh-faced naive 16-year-old was at a place called The Malt Shop in St. Paul, MN.

I was a soda jerk. I wore a purple shirt with ice cream splattered across my chest and it was permanently encrusted there (from the machine we used to make the shakes and malts). I am pretty sure I wore black tennis shoes that would slip across the floor all day (or night) long, until we mopped it clean of ice cream drippings. The juke box probably had more than 5 songs on it, but for now, I will say it had 5. I still know all the words, almost 20 years later. I had some friends there, I don't remember their names. I had some enemies too. But I loved that music. And I loved, still do, a good char-broiled cheeseburger, fries and a shake. I just....never......eat....them.....anymore. Sigh. The sadness of changing metabolism and the growing commitment to eating healthy.