May 24th marked my 12 year anniversary of living in Chicago. So hard to believe it's been that long. I moved here as a fresh faced 21 year old kid with a cat and a dream. I threw myself into classes, shows and multiple jobs. I struggled, I perservered. The cat got fat. I somehow found myself in an improv group that would become my core group of friends and strength for the last 10 years, long after we stopped performing. I somehow found a friend and creative partner in an evil genius who started a comedy group which is my main comedy passion to this day. I somehow managed to meet the most brilliant, amazing, kind, handsome, and wonderful man, who I fell in love with and who happened to love me back. This one is the best thing that's ever happened in my life--if anything, I moved to Chicago to meet my husband.
Now, I'm an adult. I've been through hell, and I am still going strong. Life has kicked me the in ass and also lifted me up. I've made a strong career and life for myself, and I feel blessed every day. I'm happy. I love Chicago, and I also hate it, but I can never discount that it has been a major factor in shaping me into the person I am today. For that, I thank you, Chicago.
(I listened to this song on repeat the last 6 months I lived in Mississippi. It's very special to me.)
