The City

The following essay was written in 2006 in response to a question posed by a scholarship contest. It had something to do with explaining "where I would like to live and why." I never won the scholarship, but it was worth writing this piece. It registers feelings and expectations from a time I allowed myself to be nothing but an irresponsible dreamer.

The City

By Carolina Uehara

At times, the awareness of being where I am is enough to make me feel trapped. Does this make sense? Maybe not. Allow me to explain it better.
My most escapist self (in moments of inner chaos) suggested running away to Tibet – a highly spiritual place, where finding peace plus happiness would sound like a guaranteed package. I mean, it must be like that, since monks are constantly smiling Mona Lisa smiles.

Need I become a monk?

After my return from Europe, not long ago, I noticed how my tourist naiveté had unavoidably been charmed by the City of Light: Les musées, les cafés, les Parisiens chics….La tour!

How was I to resist?

And then, there was my often unsettling Sagittarian side trying to figure out how to be everywhere else. Why? Well, it felt it was a waste of land to live only in one place. I couldn’t help but find this reasoning, reasonable.

Where? When?

I had all these voices competing for attention, but the competition didn’t last for long: Lhasa was defeated right away – I guess I wasn’t ready for complete detachment from the mundane world yet.
And, well, on the final match, Paris didn’t even have to pull out the baguettes – Centaurs was effortlessly convinced. Or should I say bewitched?
I knew then that trouble was coming.
The daily habit of imagining how it would be to live by the Seine intoxicated me with painful nostalgia – It felt as if I was being deprived of a vital need.
On I went, until it ultimately came to a point I couldn’t bear myself – and that’s when I realized I had been the one who consciously chose to feed a belief that established living in Paris as a condition for reaching utmost bliss.
I stopped. The voices were silenced. I focused.

What do I really want?

One minute. My eyes popped open. I knew I was smiling a Dalai Lama smile. Awareness struck me at once.

I want to be where I am.


The city is a harmonious composition of impressive architectural styles that blend beauty and modernism; the breathtaking skyline is one – but not the only – evidence. If that weren’t enough, the waters of a grand sapphire-blue lake seal interminable kisses with the eastern border of the city; the lovable encounter is not only a splendorous view, but also the happiness of Midwest summer lovers and a few stubborn – I mean, determined – surfers.
For those (like me) who feel an insatiable hunger for knowledge, diverse important museums, art centers and libraries are a full banquet. Actually, talking about culture, lack of it is something this cosmopolitan city doesn’t know – festivals and fairs of all kinds always call for many different types of individuals, making people-watching irresistible.
This city feels like home. It welcomed me in a way I would have never predicted.

I confess I let Paris steal a piece of my heart so that I would have an excuse to go back. And I will someday. But as for now I am where the rest of my heart, soul, mind and body unanimously voted to stay.

It’s been one year since I moved to Chicago.

Partiality

Here's a part of an essay I wrote when I applied to Amherst college:

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"Even though I recognize the need of partiality in diverse situations of life, I sometimes feel suffocated in abstaining myself from freely expressing impartial observations. This is one of the reasons I long for an academic environment in which ideas can be expressed without any fear of retaliation or obligation to please."

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I was not admitted at Amherst college, but I managed to start studying this year. I'm just not so sure I have found the academic environment I had longed for a couple of years ago. But, here's what I've been doing:

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"In identifying partiality everywhere I look, I have learned to recognize its existence within myself. This awareness has helped me to stay even more alert and, at least, perceive when I am not being deliberatly partial."

Humans

Forget about strolling down Michigan Avenue on weekends, bike riding in the woods of the North Shore suburbs or people-watching during summer festivals at Grant Park. Those sunny days are long gone. My new reality consists of boarding a packed, rusty train, every single morning. During these daily trips on the way to college, I find myself surrounded by faces whose eyes always catch mine. As a keen observer that I have become, I can almost instantly decipher those stranger's souls.

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What I've seen lately, however, makes me wish I stopped seeing.