There are several things about Timber Lanes in North Center that you can’t beat. They include:
And finally, Keyboard Cat. I love this shelter ad almost as much as I love Keyboard Cat’s face during the coda.
Justin and I played our second round of #The10to10 last week! He drew brown, rolled 9, which led us to the brown line Sedgwick stop.
Here’s what we found.
P.S. Here’s a PDF of a customizable #The10to10 map so you can create your own version! I guess this game could work for bus lines or highway exits, too! Whatever you’re down to explore.
P.P.S. If you want to play with lo-class dice like ours, just shoot me a message! We can send you a pair in your fave color: red, brown, purple, blue, or green.
I just love this juxtaposition so much.
Sears closing. 
Sears rebranding? 
Tarot table cards at a taco joint. So many synonyms! 
What goodies await in your community mailbox? I found a dinosaur.
On the way to my dentist appointment. 
At my dentist appointment. They were playing, of all things, Deep Blue Sea. That lyric is my new favorite Most Ridiculous Lyric Without Any Context.
It’s been one year since leaving my full-time job as a copywriter at an agency to work as a freelance writer M-F/24/7.
The gig life isn’t for everyone. It requires a lot of speed, adaptability, and discipline. Oh, and contacts. I’m so grateful for the network of contacts and connections I’ve made at full-time jobs before now; they’ve supplied me with the majority of my assignments this past year.
As the freelance/ remote work life becomes more and more feasible, especially for those of us in creative or tech-driven fields, I get a lot of questions from friends and colleagues about how it’s been going. Do I like it? How do I find jobs? Would I recommend it?
Here are three things I tell all of them.
I used to worry about work and, more specifically, money all the time. It was a constant stressor. That’s common, but I think it was exacerbated by the 2008 financial crisis. I graduated from college that year, and though I got a job in my field immediately following my big cap and gown moment, it was a really nerve-wracking time. I watched so many friends struggle to find work in what they had studied (and were now trying to pay tens of thousands of dollars for). I watched my industry (journalism) crumble as job opportunity dried up. The stress made me sacrifice everything for work, including my health, my time, everything.
Because of all of that insecurity, in which the reality of drowning seemed mere days away, I’ve always tried to have multiple streams of income. While I was a journalist, I worked second and third jobs to pay off my student loans and, let’s be honest, simply pay my rent.
I think I’ve mentally needed those multiple streams of income, even after moving into marketing, paying off my student loans, and finally starting making contributions to my savings account. Freelance has given me a chance to relax. Ironically, not having a full time traditional job has made me less concerned about my future of having one.
I feel like I now have more peace of mind in knowing that if the economy fails or if the job market I’ve chosen faces an unforeseeable blow (ie. if changing net neutrality rules limit the need for web content, thus drying up a lot of my freelance assignments), I’ve got the education and experience to be valuable to all kinds of employers.
That’s not just because of freelance; part of it’s related to age and adding notches of experience to my work belt. But as a freelance writer, I gain a comprehensive skill set. I’m able to write for an entire range of industries, work with companies of all sizes, and learn myriad project management and CMS tools instead of simply the ones my current employer operates with. I’m learning industry-standard work across every industry.
I feel really confident in my ability to land on my feet in the future. Because I have to land on my feet everyday as a freelancer.
It’s not always easy. Some days I have to work 16 hours, especially if assignments overlap. And on days like that, I have to really stay on top of myself to stay mentally focused on each task—because each job requires and deserves my best work, no matter what.
It’s worth it. Every. Time. With Justin working nights as a stand-up comedian, freelance work allows me to be flexible with when I work during the day (unless, of course, I have a meeting or deadline in the day). I can travel with him as he commutes to out-of-state gigs, using my phone’s hotspot in the car. It’s freed up time to work on my creative writing, too, which is enough to have made this all worth it. Not having to commute to an office saves me at least two hours a day. That’s two hours I now put into personal writing projects.
I feel more in control of myself than ever before. I feel in charge of my destiny, not beholden to a job market or one person at the top of the work food chain. I’m technically not working for myself. I’m not my own boss. But I am my own director. I choose what I do or don’t take on and have to live with those choices. I decide how much to take on. I determine how successful or unsuccessful I am. And all of that makes me work harder. Better. More creatively. Freelance is freedom for people who crave independence.
And I’m not so terrified of work anymore. Which, go figure, makes me even better at it.
Clean your workspace. Set up a file system. Buy a better, faster computer. Whatever you need to do to make the workflow happen like a well-oiled machine, do it. And do it before you book your first job.
Start documents for the following items and save them to your bookmark bar now:
I tried freelancing full time about five years ago, when I left the journalism field. It didn’t work. Not because I wasn’t willing to work hard; it didn’t work because I wasn’t ready for it yet. I needed to beef up my skill set with a traditional employer. I needed to make more contacts. I needed more experience. I needed to get better at writing and managing my time. I needed to confirm that writing was my dream career.
You’re risking a lot of financial stability when you go freelance, and if you’re not ready for it yet, you’re going to be hurting fast. I started down this full-time path only a year ago, and that was after almost five years of working the freelance hustle and building up my own business on the side of my full time job. I also waited until I had paid off my student loans and had enough saved to pay off our wedding. I know it’s easier to live this way, too, because Justin and I don’t have children. I can work a 16-hour day guilt free because I don’t have anyone’s little heart dependent on my attention.
Freelancing, working remotely, living that gig life can also be a little lonely. If you’re an extrovert who gets creative and professional energy off being around other talented people, this might not be for you. I’m an introvert with extrovert tendencies, so I find myself eagerly awaiting human contact via video conference calls. But only occasionally. For the most part, I write better when I’m alone.
I know how privileged and lucky I am to get to live this lifestyle. It’s involved a lot of good timing (landing the right jobs before this, making the right contacts, building genuine connections with people) and universe-given talent (shout-out to whatever muse makes my writing bones dance whenever I come-a-knockin’ on ’em). But I’ve also worked really, really hard at a long game to get here. You can as well, even if it’s not a gig life. I hope you find the work situation that is best for you—so you’re not just working, you’re living too.
For our first edition of #The10to10, I picked a red die and rolled an 8, so to Grand we went.
I was a little bummed at first when we rolled Grand because we’ve already been down in the heart of Chicago. A lot. I was kinda hoping our first fate-driven adventure would launch us into parts unknown. But Grand turned out to be the best starter pack! We still found lots of great stuff we’d never seen before, and since it’s a hot stop for tourists, we got a crash course in Chicago’s history and greatest hits.
Here’s what we found.
P.S. Here’s a PDF of a customizable #The10to10 map so you can create your own version! I guess this game could work for bus lines or highway exits, too! Whatever you’re down to explore.
P.P.S. If you want to play with lo-class dice like ours, just shoot me a message! We can send you a pair in your fave color: red, brown, purple, blue, or green.
Happy Summerrrrrrr!
Summer in Chicago is renowned for being the reason so many of us who live here are willing to put up with its insane wind tunnels, lake effect snow, and polar vortexes. Spending a day chilling on a Chicago beach, with the iconic skyline floating on the horizon through the sunny, lazy haze? It’s living the dream.
And now that SUMMMMMERRRRR 2018 has finally arrived, Justin and I came up with a game to help us get out and explore our city. Actually, just Justin came up with the game because “making life fun” is his number one contribution and responsibility to our marriage.
Because he’s excellent at it.
Case and point: This new game #The10to10.
* We got a few sets of colored dice to represent the color of the L train lines we want to explore: the blue, red, and brown lines. We blindly draw a die out of a bag. Whatever color die we draw determines the train line. Then we roll two dice to get our stop number in Step 2.
We’re pumped to dig into some neighborhoods deeper than we already have and visit some we’ve never really hung out in before. So many times we end up going to a neighborhood for just one destination and then head back home.
But you know you have to stay a while, get your hands and feet and soles a little dirty, to find the b-e-s-t, gemstone-in-an-alleyway kinds of spots. When you spend a lot of time just walking around somewhere, you truly get to know a place. And I think we’ve finally decided we want to truly get to know this place. Plus Chicago, the city of neighborhoods, has so much potential for adventure.
P.S. Here’s a PDF of a customizable #The10to10 map so you can create your own version! I guess this game could work for bus lines or highway exits, too! Whatever you’re down to explore.
P.P.S. If you want to play with lo-class dice (like ours below), just shoot me a message! We can send you a pair of dice in your fave color: red, brown, purple, blue, or green.
You know how they talk about finding your people, your soul tribe? The type of soul tribe Anthony Bourdain belonged to felt like it overlapped with the soul tribe I belong to, if you were to venn diagram it all out. He was my favorite kind of person—so sour and cantankerous and sharp-edged, but he had more heart and intelligence and perception in that quick-witted tip of his tongue than most people can hope to have in their whole bodies. I loved him, and his writing will go down as one of the best of a global American generation.
His suicide was a real punch to so many of our well-fed guts. He represented the type of American a lot of us want to be: Open minded but opinionated, humble but confident, idealistic but realistic, brave in the face of bullshit with a keen eye for spotting it (his rants against Donald Trump’s idiocy were the most recently hilarious/ cathartic). He also, in a lot of ways, represented the type of writer every modern writer wants to be. Bourdain’s style was impeccable, and he was a master storyteller.
I keep this excerpt from a piece he wrote for Lucky Peach #5 at my desk. It’s a perfect example of his ability to tell stories, even when they weren’t his, with humor and heat (which is what, I’m assuming, made him so great in the kitchen too). I’ve kept this piece in my desk drawer for a while now. I pull it out and reread it sometimes, mostly when I need a reminder that even the most basic piece of writing can tell a great fucking story. And it’s better when it does.
That Bourdain no longer is out in this world somewhere, learning, eating, meeting others, means there’s one less good and powerful voice speaking for so many of us. A good and powerful voice that was also incredibly entertaining. God speed, my man.
THE HEAD OR THE FILLET
By Anthony Bourdain
“Back in the day, when wealthy merchants used to travel across China in caravans, they were, from time to time, set upon by organized gangs of bandits and highwaymen. These enterprising free market enthusiasts would ambush columns suddenly and without mercy, quickly slaughtering guards and escorts, then stripping the members of the party of any valuables before killing them. The head man, however, they always saved for last.
Dragged kicking and screaming and begging for his life from his litter, forced to kneel on ground still soaked with the blood of his bearers and entourage, he would find himself at the feet of the chief bandit. The Chief Bandit, inevitably a fearsome-looking fellow, would offer the trembling merchant a whole cooked fish. Steamed, grilled—it didn’t matter. But it was always whole.
‘Eat!’ the Chief Bandit would command, pushing the fist in the direction of his prisoner. There would be a hush as the other bandits took a break from looting, disembowling, post-mortem violation, or any totemic preservations of remains they might be engaged in to move close to the action for what was clearly a Very Important Moment.
If the terrified merchant’s fingers or chopsticks moved straight to the fish’s head, tunneling into the cheek, perhaps, or tearing off a piece of jowl, there would be much appreciative murmuring among the Chief Bandit and his colleagues.
By choosing the multi textured, endlessly interesting mosaic of flesh buried in the fish’s head, their captive proved himself to be a man of wealth and taste. Clearly a man such as this possessed more wealth than what he and his caravan were currently carrying. This man would no doubt be missed by his family and his many wealthy friends, at least some of whom would likely pay a hefty ransom. The bandits would spare his life in the reasonable expectation of future gain.
If, however, the merchant chose instead to peel off a meaty chunk of boneless fillet, the bandits would jerk a cutlass across his neck immediately. This nouveau riche yuppie scum would be worth only as much as he carried in his pockets. Not worth keeping alive—much less feeding. Nobody would miss this asshole. The minute he chose fillet over head he proved himself worthless.”
And lastly, birds on the street.
