During my time in the Chicago area - and especially over the past few months - I've come to realize certain things. The reason I didn't have all of this career and financial ambition when I lived in Urbana as I do now is a very simple one. I was happy then, whereas I am not so happy now. Granted, there are a number of factors to aggravate this, and ultimately the answer to my issues is not only where I live, but it's at least 90% of the reason, which says a lot. Some background.... When I first moved to Champaign-Urbana for college was one of the first times that I was ever really, truly happy. The actual first time, if I recall correctly, was when my mother and I moved to Cedar Falls, Iowa for a year, where she was to earn her MA degree. I was only 7 years old when we relocated, and I was only 8 when we moved back, but I really loved it there compared to where we lived in Chicago... and at the time, my neighborhood in Chicago was pleasant and safe (as far as I knew). I didn't want to move back, and after we did, I wanted to visit Cedar Falls as often as I could. The problem with that was that I was 8 years old, and my mother had been friends with other students (and for the most part, I was friends with their children). The painful reality was that we had no idea what we would do if we actually went back for a visit, and six hours is quite a distance to travel if you have no particular plan upon arrival. The fact was that just being there was a Good ThingTM. To me, being there was much better than being in Chicago, and though I couldn't explain why, to me it was Truth. There was nothing more to it. Proceeding right along... ten years later, I moved to Urbana, this time in the pursuit of my own degree. Before going, I actually expected to be homesick for a while. Saying goodbye to the environment I knew was difficult, and I was a bit apprehensive about what I was getting myself into. This lasted until a little less than five minutes after I arrived in Urbana. Almost immediately after I got there, I never wanted to leave again (at least, not for extended periods). I even avoided going back to Chicago for vacations. After the first Thanksgiving break from classes - during which we were required to leave the residence halls - many of us who lived in Allen Hall actually got homesick... for Allen. Urbana was home; what was home to us before had just become where our parents lived. Simply put, I loved it there, and there was not ever a time that I didn't love being there. Being there was a Good ThingTM. Flash forward a few years, when I left school and my dorm and my life as I knew it, because for the first time ever, I had no idea what I would do. I moved in with a friend for a little while, which was fortunate because as the School of Architecture had sucked all of my money away, I had none left (in fact, I was in debt to the bank for something like $3.50). All I had was my stuff (which fortunately included the Power Mac my grandparents had helped me to buy the year before), twelve packets of ramen, a few frozen burritos, some pea soup packets, and some vitamins. I refused to move back to Chicago, where I knew that I could have lived with my mother and probably resumed working at my old job at the engineering firm. Instead, I chose to look for a job that suited me, and in the meantime, I could just starve if it came to that (and starve I did; I lost 50-60 pounds over the course of three months). Regardless, as far as I was concerned, I was happy enough with my situation. Even after I didn't have a home for a few days and instead just wandered around, it was better than moving back to Chicago. I found a job (library assistant, minumum wage) which led to the job that convinced me that I could actually make a decent living by working with computers (which still astonishes me to this day), and so I didn't have to starve to death after all. Well, not for a while. Eventually I ended up with sysadmin jobs, which was just fine by me. I didn't make all that much, but it was more than I'd ever had before, and it was enough to have an apartment with friends and a car and more computers and other stuff. Because it suited my modest financial needs, I was perfectly content with my job. Even though my boss was an idiot who didn't know what he was doing technically or managerially, I was working with computers and could pay my bills, so I was happy. I didn't even consider that the project management work I was doing should have netted me more in the way of disposable earnings. No... I was genuinely happy. My job was my job, and it suited me. It wasn't like working; I'd even stay very late just to take care of some things by the next morning. I was absolutely and thoroughly happy with where I was and what I was doing. I was happy with my life, even through its ups and downs. I was happy in and with Champaign-Urbana, and when I went on a road trip to wherever, I was happy to come back home, regardless of how much I enjoyed myself where I had been. A couple of years later found me again looking for a new job in the thin Chambana market, where computer geeks are a dime a dozen. After two months of searching, when I was down to $100, I had to be responsible and look elsewhere. I sent out at least sixty resumes in east-central Illinois over the course of two months, and got nothing. I sent one to the Chicago area, and was hired to work at Motorola two days later. I wept, I moved, and within another couple of months, I was more dissatisfied than I'd expected to be. I had a similar idiot boss, but unlike before, it was a big issue. I was actually glad when that contract ended. And now I wanted more money and more status and more stuff and a better apartment and a nicer car. I was perfectly happy with these things as they were in Urbana, and then I came here, and even though I was making almost twice as much as I had in Urbana (it's four times as much now), I wanted more. Even though I had more responsibility and a higher profile at my new job, I wanted more. Even though the apartment I have here is nicer, I wanted more. Even though I loved my Saturn, I wanted more. My original theory was that this area engenders a certain desire for capital gain and conquest, and that it's a bit contagious. True, I feel that there is something tremendously artificial about this area and most of its inhabitants, and yes, all of this does have a causal link to my relatively recent aspirations. However, I've realized that it's not just that this area's aesthetic influences a level beyond conformity extending far into one-upmanship. It's much more likely that I am so thoroughly unimpressed with life here that I almost immediately began to try to compensate somehow. Life in the Chicago area is rather uninspiring to me at best and utterly depressing at worst. When I lived in Urbana, I always used to repeat the cliché about this being a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here. Well, it was all true. I never wanted to live here, because I'm not really happy here. So maybe if I can't be inherently happy living here, then I'll just try to buy some happiness. But we know that one can't really do that. So what to do? Because of the circumstances surrounding today, the only thing keeping me from moving back is the job. Today I decided that ultimately, it would be against everything I stand for if I just stayed here for the artificial construct that I've created for myself. The obvious question is, "What good does it do me to have all of this if it doesn't make me happy?" The real question is, "Why should I stay here when the only reason I want these things is because I'm here?" I have to get out of here. It's eating away at me. It's draining away any sense of being a whole person that I once had.