Star Light, Star Bright, WHERE ARE YOU??

If asked what is my least favorite thing about the city, I would probably default to "its lack of cleanliness." But in all honesty, while that can bother me from time to time, I've grown accustomed to not letting my pants drag in certain liquids and steering clear of things that I can't quite make out what they are. So I've adapted. And as far as "a high crime rate" goes, I look at it this way: there's crime everywhere. It's just a matter of a higher population in the city, more crimes committed (even if that's not technically true...) and a matter of knowing you're surroundings.

But what really does bug me, and I notice this happening every time I go outside at night, is the fact that I can't see hardly any stars. I love looking at the stars when I'm at home, and that's hard enough--because the massive amount of light coming from the city washes them out even in Oak Park. I remember one time when I was staying with my cousins out in Yorkville (a waaaaay west suburb), I looked up and it was just amazing. You could see so many stars, I was mesmerized. (See, they were used to that and thought I was slightly crazy for standing there for ten minutes with my neck bent entirely backwards so I could see them. But they know I'm from the city and we actually do a lot of things differently than them, but that's another blog for another day.) The sky was just absolutely gorgeous. And, dare I say I was jealous? But I was! Because, like I said, I can't even see stars when I go home.

Also, for the Fourth of July fireworks, my dad would let us up onto the roof of Oak Park River Forest High School (he's the head carpenter, so he has all the keys). Sitting up there for the fireworks was amazing. We saw fireworks from all the surrounding towns--Berwyn, Cicero, Riverside, Elmwood Park, River Forest, Forest Park, various neighborhoods in Chicago--as well as the infamous glow of the city. Sometimes I would look straight up to see what I could see star-wise and noticed a glow coming all the way from the city, even if I was looking slightly west. I noticed that when I was a lot younger, but it never really mattered to me. But now that I live in the city, it's something that bothers me--a lot. I love looking at the stars. It's a type of escape for me, so if I could, I think I'd be a much happier person (Ha).

So, with that being said, isn't there some way that we can tone down the amount of light that the city emits? It would be beneficial in more than one way. I mean, sure, the streetlights are extremely important, but what about other things. Like, do we really need to tops of all the buildings to be lit up every single night? They have their red flashing lights that let airplanes know that they're there, but there's a lot of light that comes off of them that we really don't need. And I'm sure if people sat down and thought about it, they could figure some other things out, too.

Coexisting

So I vaguely remember Bush saying something along the lines of fish and humans coexisting peacefully. And I guess that could slightly apply to this, except I would hope I sound a bit more educated in my statement...

When you drive past the various forest preserves throughout Chicago, do you ever peer in through the trees to see if you can see deer or anything else? Whenever I'm not driving--actually, even when I am driving--I stare down the forest preserve, searching for some form of animal life. Why? Honestly, I'm not entirely sure. I know I'm not looking for proof that they're in there, because I know they are. I guess I just like to get a glimpse of them whenever I can. Because every single time I see a deer, I go crazy, mainly because I'm so used to being in the city day and night. And when I see a deer or two, I instantly feel like I'm miles and miles away from the hustle and bustle of the city. And when I take a step back, it's weird to think that the animals live so close to humans, because I'm so used to them being in secluded forest preserves and prairies that we only venture into when we have an entire day free to drive out there.

About a year and a half ago, my mom and I drove out to Iowa for a quick college visit. Most of the trip was empty country highway, with rows of crops on either side of the road. We past some forestry, but we didn't see any animals really. That's why we both thought it was hilarious that the first deer we saw was right by the 25th Avenue exit on the Eisenhower. There we were, having just driven through all kinds of land not dense with people, but we see the deer just off of a busy expressway, right in the middle of rush hour. The only way he--or she--could have got to where he was was if he crossed the entrance ramp. So not only is he living there in a busy area, but he's venturing over streets that hundreds--maybe even thousands--of cars access every day.

I don't know, it's just a funny thing to me, animals living so so close to the city. I just always kind of had it divided up into two worlds--the city world, the nature world. I mean, yea, I know that animals live in the city, but those are "city animals"--squirrels, pigeons, rats, etc. Deer and bunnies are "nature animals"--animals that are off in their own little world. But I guess I'm allllll wrong.


Oh, and I found the quote:
"I know the human being and fish can coexist peacefully."

Where would America be without immigrants?

It's a question worth asking. I started really thinking about it after reading Lisa Maggio's entry from October 1st. Basically everyone who lives in America is a descendant of some sort of immigrant. I know I am: my grandpa's family immigrated here from Germany; my other grandpa's family immigrated from Ukraine; my grandma's family from Ireland. My other grandma, however, has been here for a long time--having a long chain of family members born and growing up in the South. Even so, she was half English and half French, so someone would have had to immigrate at some point. Quite honestly, the only thing that makes me American is the fact that I was born here. But when people ask me what I am, I default to: a quarter German, a quarter Ukrainian, a quarter Irish, an eighth English, and an eighth French. No where in there do I say "I'm one hundred percent American," even though I am. And I'm sure, aside from a good handful, that's what everyone else says. Everyone has blood that runs through them that is not American.

I don't understand why people are trash talked so often for representing where they come from. As far as I'm concerned, it's good to be proud of where you come from. I have heard "Americans" say that they don't like the way Mexicans continuously sport the Mexican flag claiming that "This is America. The only flag that should be seen is the American flag." But that's just ignorant, because the essence of America is the conglomeration of all the countries that immigrated and settled here. America has a reputation of being the free world, being a place people can escape to from persecution, poverty, and so many more negative things. Sure, those negative things have been brought to America, too, but some of it just purely ignorance. It's fine to be proud of where you come from--great, even. But the ignorance I see on some Americans' faces makes me ashamed to say I'm American and want to represent my other five countries that much more.

So my question stands: Where would America be without immigrants? Quite honestly, I don't think it would really exist. This country was built off of immigrants and their determination for a better life. That is what inspired so many different movements througout history and what still does. It's the people who come here from different countries that have the determination to hold rallies and every organize parades througout the entire city. I think it's great to have pride in where you come from, because that's a large part of who you are.

Navy Pier.

So today was my birthday and my friend and I went to Navy Pier intending on going on the ferris wheel. But by the time we finished walking up and down the pier, they were closing, so we couldn't go on the ferris wheel. Oh well. But while we were walking, I kinda realized something: that place really has nothing to do with Chicago, the actual city.

OK, what am I talking about? It goes along with my very very first entry about the tourist bubbles and how their only intention is to make money. And I definitely saw that in Navy Pier. There were all kinds of food stands and drink stands and OK, a store with "I ♥ Chicago" tshirts. But what does it really show anybody about Chicago? There weren't any true Chicago restaurants there; there were only franchises there which really don't even try to show the city that they're placed it. If someone didn't have previous knowledge that Navy Pier was placed in Chicago, and they were just blindly dropped there and couldn't see the skyline, they would probably have no idea where they were until they saw the gift shop with Chicago merchandise.

It just blows me how some attractions can be so insensitive to the cities that help them make all their money.

On another note, my family and I are going to Ed Debevic's for my birthday dinner tomorrow night. That's a place that I feel is true to Chicago, being a Chicago restaurant and definitely something tourists will remember as a Chicago thing.

Crazy Taxi, Indeed

So you know that video game called Crazy Taxi? Basically, you're a taxi driver in some city and you have a quota you need to meet of a certain number of people. But there's really no boundaries as to where you can drive; you can drive on the sidewalk, through sidewalk cafes, etc. At least, that's how I think it works. Either way, it truly is a crazy taxi. Ha. (Last time I played it was like five years ago, at least.) Anyway, I had to take a cab today up to the place I was babysitting. (My brother's girlfriend's sister's house--she has the most adorable son. I consider him my nephew.) Granted, we were driving north on Halsted--which isn't the smartest thing to do at 5:45 on a Friday afternoon--I definitely feared for my life a couple times. And I was inside the car! This guy was clearly irritated once I got in the car and I found myself wishing I would've caught a different cab. But oh well. I was stuck in his. Blehh. Anyway, I watched him weave in and out, sometimes even being in the completely wrong lane--facing oncoming traffic completely. I was like "OOOkkkkkkk buddy." Not too much fun. But then there were also times when I felt bad for a pedestrian. There they are, completely unprotected, unlike the driver, but he still got right up on them. I found that more annoying than anything. Why? Because I've definitely had a cab do the same thing to me. I was walking across the street and he started slowing down like he was going to let me go in front of him. But as I watched him, to make sure he would stop so that I don't get hit (because I've been hit by a car before and I wasn't trying to let it happen again) I put one foot that was clearly in front of him, so half of my body was in front of his car. But tell me why he kept on rolling closer and closer and was obviously not going to stop. So I basically almost had my foot run over by the guy, who really didn't seem to care.

Bottom line, it's like I said: "It's a city full of buses and taxis and pedestrians who don't have the right-of-way." Everyone has to be on their toes at alllll times, especially when crossing the street. But in a world of cell phones and headphones and just straight up oblivious people, crossing the street is risky business.

Peek Shures.

So I went to those sites that were on the sheet and they were pretty cool. Quite honestly, I don't think they were anything special. Sure, they're good for people who already know the city and who are working with the city. But if someone who didn't know Chicago was looking at them, I think they'd be slightly bored. Except for the first website: www.revealingchicago.org. I actually liked the pictures on that website. The pictures to me were more engaging. And then for some of them, they gave a little background. For example, the picture of the boat dying the Chicago River green, there was a little paragraph telling the story about how that tradition was started, and even how it was altered a bit. And the picture with the Chicago Correctional Facility, it gave a little tidbit of information I didn't know: it's built in a triangular shape so that the halls that need to be patrolled aren't too long. That website was fun for me to look at; I kept anticipating the next picture. The other websites were boring to me and I just sped through the pictures, basically.

If I were to take a whole bunch of pictures of the city, I would want to take more pictures of the people--people interacting with each other and with the city. I think it's so interesting to see how people act differently even if they're in the exact same spot, you know? It kind of goes along with what one of my classmates said in class (I don't know her name...sorry!!) about watching people and thinking about What's that person's situation?, What's it feel like being that person walking down that street?. When she said that, I was in total agreement; I do the same thing all the time. So I would've liked to take pictures of that because it would enable me to hold onto those observations. The pictures of the building specific to the city are cool, so I'd probably do some of that, too. But to me, the people are always the essence of a neighborhood, so I would be sure to capture that.

Familiarity is Key

I just finished a discussion with my friend about how safe/unsafe she would feel if dropped in an unfamiliar neighborhood. It was based off of something that happened way back at New Years. It's about one's familiarity with a particular neighborhood and how safe they feel in said neighborhood:

On New Years, my friends, Mike and Stevie, and I were going to go our another friend's, Stephanie's, house. I was at Stevie's house picking him up when I got a call from Mike telling me that he wasn't going to go. When I asked him why, he said that somebody told him that Stephanie didn't live in the best neighborhood, so he thought it better to just not go. This made me mad, because I knew he was just being a lame. She lives near Central/Fullerton; Mike lives near Lombard/Pershing. I've been to both houses numerous times and would definitely say that I feel safer near her house than I would his house. I had a little argument with him telling him that things would be fine at her house, that'd we'd be inside anyway, so what does it even matter. But he's one for taking the safe way rather than doing anything that might be a little risky (aka: BORING). Anyway, I dismissed it and told him I'd call him at midnight--and let him know that I was fine.

So this discussion I just had with my friend, we were talking about if it's the neighborhood's reputation that makes it feel safe or the familiarity. Basically, we concluded that the familiarity reigns over all. We decided that we would feel threatened basically anywhere we go, even it was a super rich, super low crime rate neighborhood; we're still going to be scared that somebody might snatch us into the bushes or something. But if we're at least in a neighborhood that we know, especially one that we know very well, we feel somewhat better. Why? Because we know the streets, we know how to get around, and we know where to go when we feel threatened.

So I guess it's as simple as those three words: Familiarty is key.

Home

What is it that makes us want to "rep our city" ₍₁₎ everywhere we go?
We declare an undying love for our city, sometimes even defending it.
We pride ourselves on where we come from,
Standing by the statement that any other city has nothing on us.
We ignore the fact that maybe we haven't even visited the competition to know for sure--
But we don't have to; our city will always be better.
The El,
Navy Pier,
Grant Park,
the Sears Tower.
It all becomes our back yard, and eventually,
Our background.
It's "who we are, where we come from." ₍₂₎
Its essence rubs off on us and we become branded.
It becomes ridiculously easy to spot the real ones from the fakes,
a.k.a. the residents from the tourists.
We stand out with our accents and our undying love for "Daaaaaa Bears." ₍₃₎
We pride ourselves on our baseball teams,
Refusing to let the cross-town feud die.
"If you didn't know by now, I'm talking about ChiTown." ₍₄₎
We've grown accustomed to the extraordinarily tall buildings,
And the breeze from The Lake.
We've learned to harden ourselves against the harsh wind when we have to.
Braving the cold in the winter while bearing the heat in the summer.
Laughing it off with a 'That's Chicago weather for you,'
But secretly cursing its inconsistency and intensity under our breath.
We're a city full of taxis and buses and pedestrians who don't have the right-of-way.
It's the city of Chicago that makes everyone want to represent it.
We want to make it known where we're from.
Because we're proud,
Because it's "[our] kind of town." <sub>(5)



(1) Petey Pablo, "Raise Up"
(2) Common sports cheer
(3) NUMEROUS episodes of Saturday Night Live
(4) Kanye West, "Homecoming"
(5) Frank Sinatra, "My Kind of Town"</sub>

A suburban girl in a city world.

I've mentioned multiple times before that I grew up in Oak Park, that it's really the only home I've known aside from campus housing. But I sometimes feel like a city girl at heart. I have always felt like I'm in the right place when I'm in the city, but sometimes it seems like it just won't work. I feel like I'm in between: I don't exactly fit in with my suburbanite friends because I'm more city than them; I stand out so much from my city friends because I was raised in the suburbs. It's been that way for as long as I can remember, but it really started to show when I started high school.
Going to a private school in the city, I had to chance to meet people from all kinds of neighborhoods. As is nature for me wherever I go, I drifted towards the "Black group" only because that's who I usually get along with best. I spent the majority of my time with kids from the South side, West side, and even some from the North side. I was speaking thier dialect and "acting black," which I always denied because I was always just being myself. Any friends that I still had in Oak Park felt that I was "acting ghetto," and that started many arguments, causing me to grow farther apart from them--they were just too naïve and sheltered for me.
So the only friends I spent time with were the friends I had made at high school. It didn't really bother me much because I got along with them great. I was drawn to that group of people because that's who I have stuff in common with. But that doesn't mean I didn't run into my fair share of debates and issues. Being a white girl who has always hung around Blacks, Mexicans, and Puerto Ricans, I have had the chance to see things in a different light and encounter all different types of ignorance, in terms of being oblivious to certain things.
Too many times I have had people come after me for me supposedly thinking I'm better than them. Quite honestly, though, I never understood that because if I really did think I was better than someone, I wouldn't be spending my time with them. It just gets me how quickly people are to judge me, sometimes not even allowing a conversation before jumping to these conclusions. I have definitely had to hold my own on more than one occasion because someone stepped to me incorrectly. Since it has happened numerous times, I've learned to hold my own in such situations; I don't back down. I have been threatened by some people, but they never follow through, leading me to believe that they expected me to back down instantly as the "scared white girl" but were surprised when I didn't. And in all honesty, the people who do jump to those conclusions, I do think I'm better than them, but not because of their race. If they're going to jump to conclusions like that without even trying to get to know me, then that just shows how narrow minded and prejudice they are.
I have also seen my fair share of reverse racism. There have been instances where people will just automatically decide they don't like me, and I honestly feel that it's because I'm white. I'm not trying to make myself a scapegoat--I wouldn't be crying wolf if I didn't see one--but when I'm around people, I observe their behavior. And I have seen people push me off to the side while just paving the way for others who are the same race as them. It really helps me put things in perspective because I put myself in a lot of situations that a lot of white people don't usually encounter.
I guess what made me think about this is the article, "Back to the Fortress of Brooklyn and the Millions of Destroyed Men Who Are My Brothers," on page 30 of our book. I could feel for the boy discussed in the article (the main character of the book he's reviewing) because often times, that is me. I become the minority because I am often the only white girl at many functions. It doesn't bother me, but it seems to bother other people, White, Black, Mexican, and Puerto Rican alike. I have learned to turn a blind eye to people's color, and it's too bad that others cannot.
I'll be honest, I have adapted a hardness from being in the situations I have been in. Having to stand up for myself on so many different occasions has given me a tough attitude that my own family doesn't really care for. And I feel like the city, in some part, has contributed to that. But I'm not complaining--I love the edge the city has given me. Of course, deep down, I am that suburban girl and I have my moments of naivete, but that's only expected of someone who spent her first 13 years in a suburb of Chicago.