Your 12-Month Forecast

Roughly twelve months ago I became a resident of Chicago. Summer was just winding down, and truth be told I was ready for it to end. After enduring my twentieth summer in Omaha, land of 90 degree average temperature and "it might as well be raining" humidity, enough was enough for one year. Chicago provided immediate relief. The next four weeks were nothing but blue skies, around 80 degrees each day, and just the loveliest breeze coming off the lake. My days were spent going to the beach, exploring Chicago via walking, playing bags, and pretty much every other enjoyable outdoor activity you can think of...yeah I did them all bitches!

Autumn finally arrived. Again, I wasn't sad to see the summer end...if only I had known then what I know now. Days became a little more cloudy and rain became more frequent. Oblivious to soul shattering misery that is Chicago weather, I thought nothing of it. My birthday is a fall event, I have always enjoyed the switch from shorts and T-shirts to jeans and sweatshirts, and college football was starting up (nothing is more blissful than watching the Husker Blackshirts smash an opposing QB into a lifeless puddle on the turf.) Needless to say, my spirits were high. In fact, my spirits towards the weather stayed high until about May. Hailing from Omaha, NE, I am no stranger to life ending cold. Upon my arrival in Chicago everyone bombarded me with statements like, "Are you ready for the winter?" Or, "Get ready winter is coming." Each comment made with overly exaggerated ominous qualities. Truthfully, winter wasn't so bad. Yeah it snowed a lot, and yeah the slush on every street corner required an Olympic triple jump maneuver to bypass wet socks. However, the snow usually melted within a few days. It wasn't like Omaha, where it snows in October and that snow freaking stays until April. Chicago got cold, but I took it. I expected it to get cold. I believe my expectation of the cold, as it rightfully should be during the winter months, is what made it easy to handle. That, and the agreement Mother Nature had with God that sunlight would be an essential part of life on Earth. Apparently old Mother Nature is a lying whore, who in her hundredth eon is losing her touch. Here's a hint you blue haired bitch, this little patch of land located in the middle of America, yeah we still get four seasons.

The final motivator to keep trekking through winter were the numerous promises I received regarding the "mecca" of all summers. Remember those sensationalists, the ones that kept warning me of a terrible winter. Well, for everyone one of those ignorant bastards there were 50 times more raving about the majestic Chicago summers. Daryl down the street would say, "Don't worry, the summers here are amazing." Eddy from work used to tell me daily, "I spend every weekend at the beach, my tan is freaking sweet." Like I cared about Ed's freaking tan. The message was clear, Chicago must have an amazing summer. The idea of unparalleled warmth and sunlight was planted in my brain, and I was ready for summer.

Thus far my Chicago weather was right on par. It wasn't until mid May when I started to worry. It was raining daily, and temperatures had yet to rise to an acceptable "warm month" level. Initially I chalked it up to an abnormally rainy spring, which just meant we were getting the crappy weather out of the way for bliss sure to come. Well, my bliss never came...ever. The summer never produced anything remotely acceptable for summer weather. I am pretty sure I was wearing a sweatshirt on the forth of July. That last statement can't be made with 100% surety, but considering it rains all the time in Chicago and I am constantly cold, lets just go ahead and assume I am telling the truth. Around the end of July I began asking myself where exactly am I living. Is this Seattle? No, Seattle can't hold a candle to this shitty weather. Perhaps Alaska, considering the seemingly endless days without sunshine. No not Alaska either, the Northern Lights provide some illumination. I finally concluded I actually was living in Chicago, IL. Or Siberia. I haven't been able to decipher any differences between the tundra from either location, so it's Chicago, IL, or Siberia. Some hope still lay buried deep in my now frozen heart that August would bring some pleasantness. Nope, wrong again. I only blame myself for being optimistic, which only made the crash back to reality that much more demoralizing.

Who knew my body actually required a few months of nice weather before I lost all capability of rational thought and reason? As each rain filled crap shoot, a.k.a. a day, passes I slip further and further into some psychopathic abyss. Let this be a warning to all you Daryl and Eddy's out there. All you promisers of heaven on Earth, June-August. I'm out there. And when I find you, don't give me lines such as, "Oh this was an off year usually we have fantastic summers, please don't water board me." I didn't listen to the ones that already fed me those lines, and I won't be listening again until I personally witness some decent weather. It boils down to a waiting game. Either I will find each and every one of the aforementioned individuals, or I will lose my freaking mind sometime this upcoming winter. Which will most likely lead to my plunge through the ice on Lake Michigan to a watery demise. So, twelve months living in Chicago and this god forsaken weather has broken me. The lake-effect, aint it a bitch.

Rise and Shine

My eyes slowly opened. It was dark, but the street light shed a faint glow across my current resting place. The gutter, obviously a less than desirable bed, was co-inhabited by a disease spreading monstrosity...a rat. As my "friend" continued down the street, shortly after passing roughly a foot and a half past my face, I became aware of a drilling pain centralized in the back of my skull. Sitting up on the curb, my hand moved across a large knot on the back of my head. I didn't need the warm liquid on my finger tips to confirm I was heavily bleeding. The dark, almost blackish, puddle where my head lay moments ago had made that message abundantly clear. Despite the fact I could barely see, primarily because the painful pulse bumping through my brain blurred my vision, I managed to stagger to my feet. Instinctively I felt my pockets for the essentials: wallet, cell phone, and keys. I had none of the aforementioned items, and needless to say began spewing an endless stream of obscenities...I've been known to do that in times of extreme frustration.

None of the buildings in my general vicinity were of any familiarity, so with head down I walked to the closest intersection. Surprise Surprise, I had never heard of these streets. Questions such as, "How the fuck did I get here?" and "Why in the hell is my head bashed open?" would have been mysteries I would have started trying to answer, but thinking only made my head hurt more. Home was the only place I wanted to be and the only riddle I was willing to tackle at the moment. Several minutes later, and a few blocks distance from where I came to, I noticed the lake was only about a block and half to my right. I knew the lack of buildings close to the lake would provide a good enough vantage to gain some sort of bearings. I picked up my pace and headed lake ward.

The bright lights from the city were clearly visible filling the night sky to my south...the direction I needed to go, since I only lived about a $5 cab ride north of downtown. What I would assume was a 3 hour walk felt like 12, and was filled with perhaps 50 people starring at me in horror. A few, I surmise, would have tried to approach me, though my blood soaked shirt and awkward steps kept everyone at a distance...on the other side of the street. Nothing says welcome to the neighborhood like a scowling face and the compulsory tightened clutch of one's wallet/purse.

I finally recognized some buildings, eventually some streets, and managed to get home. Keys being gone and all I was forced to throw a rock, discovered in a neighbors garden, through my window. At that point I really didn't care about a broken window. Getting to my bed was the only objective...by any means necessary. I probably would have thrown a small child threw the window had one been handier than the rock next door. The last thought I had, directly before I feel into an Aspirin induced slumber, was, "Hopefully my third day living in Chicago goes a little better."

This being my first blog and first posting on said blog, I had absolutely no idea what to write...so I made something up! Wouldn't that have been a great story had it been true? Wouldn't a reader think, "Wow, this guy lives a crazy intriguing life?" I would think people would read my first posting and just come salivating back for more, most likely checking daily to catch the next mysterious installment in the life of Pat. But, since it wasn't an actual event what will potential readers think of me now? I most likely have sealed my fate as a blogger on the first posting. I'll take my chances. Other than the fact I am not native to Chicago, and I live somewhere north of downtown, my story is sadly fictional. Fear not reader, I have plenty of exciting tales (ones that actually happened) and random thoughts that will soon fill your eagerly awaiting brains. Okay, since I don't know how to wrap this opening blog up, I will just do it abruptly.

P.S. I started this blog because a friend of mine knew I liked to write and sent me a link to blogspot.com or where ever it is I am currently writing this crap. But about halfway through my little story I realized no one is reading this. I have no idea how anyone would happen upon it, let alone take the time to read the whole thing. Then, to top it all off, I finished the story and started talking to "readers!" Point being, this whole first time blogging experience has made me feel completely insane. I might as well be facing a wall and talking out loud to myself. Or better yet, I should go downtown and just start shouting at people walking by...I would have vastly more people listening to me.