Chicago vs. L.A. (A Personal Account)

In Chicago, I worked for the paycheck. No other reason.

I was an assistant commercial real estate manager. I assisted in managing commercial real estate. I got my license, and the company paid for it. It was a good job in a stable industry. I got decent pay, went to lots of parties and got lots of free lunches. I didn't need to go to grad school--it just wasn't necessary for what I was doing. The company was great about promoting from within. The annual bonus was top notch. This is the kind of job normal people would like to have.

The best part about my job is that I was not overworked. Everything required of me was, for the most part, easily fit into the 40 hours I spent at my desk each week. I carried no stress home with me. Therefore, I had lots of free time.

I spent mine drinking. Chicago is a drinker's town, and I was a drinker. You can find $1 beers somewhere any night of the week, and I did. But the yuppie boys usually treated, anyways. On the weekends, I slept past noon. Frequently. I wasn't missing anything. Brunch was served everywhere until 3 in the afternoon. I had Bloody Marys with mine.

I wasn't an alcoholic. This wasn't about dependency. I just had nothing better to do.

I quit that job to enter a graduate writing program in Los Angeles--one that would certify me to do absolutely nothing in particular. A few months in I landed a job at a free paper, which is the type of place I've always wanted to work. I make shit money, so I do freelance work on the side, which is immensely time-consuming. As is my schoolwork, of course. I drive all the way across town to get to work, then I leave (I'm always running to interviews or to try some new, hip eatery that only serves bread pudding). I'm late to class, always. I get home and there's no time to relax because I have to read something or transcribe something or revise something. If I'm lucky, I can squeeze in one DVR'd episode of the Real Housewives of Wherever before bed, but that's unusual.

And I can't even drink anymore. There's just no time for intoxication. My tolerance has plummeted, and now every time I have a glass of red wine I toss and turn in the middle of the night. God, I'm old.

But I chose this. To live within my work instead of outside of it, to let it take over, and in many ways I'm much happier. That said, every once in a while, I really miss wasting time.