The Windy City or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Paradox
It’s 9:27 p.m. on June 30th. I haven’t written anything to post on my website (not a blog!) this month. I have a little over two and a half hours to rush something out. In the spirit of the moment, allow me to muse a bit about social anxiety.
“But, Jake,” you may be thinking, “weren’t your last two posts about anxious thoughts and feelings, at least a little bit?”
“Indeed they were!” I would reply earnestly. “We have a lot to unpack! And I might even extend it to include the last three! Economics and philosophy are anxiety-inducing subjects, after all.”
Don’t worry, this piece will have a slightly different spin. Whereas “Sadness” and “Weirdness” (as I will colloquially refer to them) were deeply personal, this piece (we may call it “Paradox”) will be more pointed outward, a more intimate reflection on the urban environment I’ve thrust myself into over the past month or so. Really it hasn’t even been that long, but the impressions of the concrete and the congested highways have already left their mark.
The major concern I had when deciding to move to Chicago for the summer was loneliness. I’ve had many great times catching up with old friends from high school who have made their new lives on the banks of Lake Michigan. I’ve met many cool people at my new job. My uncle, when he’s not across the country at some bluegrass music festival, has provided good company and sound advice. But despite these largely positive experiences, I’m left essentially alone. I’ve forgone the comfortable familial connections of back home for the constant energy of the city. In a way it feels reminiscent of my first year at college. Many of the feelings are the same. There’s a similar level of eager exploration mixed with worrisome isolation.
Yet the best, and simultaneously the worst, part of living in a city of near three million people is what I’ll call ambient sociality (I’m sure sociologists have a better term for what I’m about to explain but, again, we’re on a tight deadline here and I don’t really have time to do the research to find it). As soon as I step out the door of my apartment, I step “into it.” That is, I step into a world that is full of life, teeming with energy and the hustle-and-bustle of individuals hurrying about their daily routines, running chores or commuting to work. The common spaces of streets and sidewalks are all shared amongst one another. Even cars feel more a part of the living environment than they do in less crowded areas. Everyone and everything becomes part of the same nexus, and when you walk out onto the sidewalk, you become a part of it.
This sensation can be either socially inclusive or isolating, depending on which way you look at it. On one hand it feels good to feel like you’re a part of the world in such a way, even if you have nothing to do. When I find myself languishing alone in the apartment I’ll just get up and go for a walk to socialize passively. This is different than going for a walk in the St. Olaf Natural Lands, for example, which is a largely solitary experience (refer to “Weirdness” for a counterexample). I get to go out and feel like I’m a part of the world, a living organism in the big city, even if I’m not really doing anything besides walking. I like the phrase “pulse of the city” here; I can extend the analogy to say that I feel like a single blood vessel that is a part of the city, which is as a whole the heart that is pulsing.
This passive, or ambient, sociality sensation is so much more heightened when you do actually have something to do. Oh how I’ve cherished my walks up to Whole Foods for groceries or Target for miscellaneous supplies, or my runs along the lakefront path where I get to join hundreds of other cyclists, walkers or fellow runners along the Lake Michigan shoreline. These routines have become highlights of my time in Chicago, times where I put myself into the world without really necessarily doing anything with anybody else directly.
Here’s where ambient sociality can turn from a feeling that you are a unique part of a greater whole to a feeling that you are an isolated grain in a sea of sand. When you don’t have anyone to share these experiences with directly, you can look about you and see other people walking and talking with their friends, partners, even dogs, and not help but feel a bit jealous. Even if you’re perfectly comfortable alone, listening to your favorite new record while you strut down Clark Street with your Target tote slung over your right shoulder, you look over at that couple across the street walking their little corgi together and think to yourself, “How sweet would it be to be sharing this moment with someone else?”
Eventually this isolated thought may pass, but it will certainly recur. It’s kind of a trade-off you have to make when you appreciate the ambient sociality of the city around you. Sometimes the trade-off feels more difficult, more pronounced. Sometimes you really want to have someone to share experiences with, or to speak with about the sights you’re seeing. But at the end of the day you’re alone. And yes, it’s true that you are a unique individual in a vibrant world, an integral blood vessel in a beating heart. But you also know there’s so much more out there, that life expands when you share the world with another. This is also why loneliness sets in the hardest (is that the right qualifier?) when you are doing the coolest (certainly there’s a better word) things (again! word choice!).
So where does this leave us? I do really enjoy the ambient sociality of Chicago, the lush potential of a city that seems to be always moving. I wouldn’t trade the solitary experiences I’ve had running along the lakeshore or walking up to get coffee from my favorite neighborhood café (shoutout to Two Hearted Queen!). But still, I can’t help but hope for a little bit more. A better routine could help instrumentally. And maybe even a good friend to share it with.
If you’ve made it this far, thanks! My writing has gotten really bad! I’m out of touch. Hopefully I’ll start writing more, about a better variety of subjects that aren’t just my own subjective grievances with the world. Already I feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins as my fingers fly across the keys.
If you have a favorite spot to eat in Chicago, let me know. But until then, stay cool.
