You've got to be a cold hearted bastard not to enjoy the signs of spring...I know I really love days that don't darken until seven, for one thing. Last Sunday was a nice day, not overly warm but sunny, so I went on a walk around my neighborhood in search of signs of the season's true inclination and plan to switch over. There were flowering trees all over the place. This one had a nest in it. You know what that means? Baby birds. That's what that means.
I don't know if these are actually cherry blossoms, but they look like they are, so that's what I'm going to call them.
Pretty.
So, while I continue to have some serious pangs for Chicago, this walk did remind me that I like my actual neighborhood (Fairmount/Art Museum). It's all brick rowhouses with nicely painted doors and one way streets. I miss yards and alleys, but there is something very quaint and cozy about this version of urban life (though I'm not sure if I'd always want to be sharing a wall with somebody else). My struggle with Philadelphia is simply a struggle against my natural inclination to stay close to home and with people I know. In Chicago this led to my only knowing people from grad school and, to a lesser extent, people from Chicagoist. In Philadelphia this leads to my main social group being my coworkers (and what a good bunch of social groupers they are) with the occasional interaction with J & J (I have told them they are not allowed to move, I find these visits so valuable), and even less frequent contact with Mr. Ass, A., L. and N.

I think it would probably be better if I could pin-point what it is that I feel I am missing rather than to complain about what I do. This current angle on the topic seems ungrateful, which, actually, I am not. All these people entertain and engage me, so what if I work with them, or I don't see them quite as much as I'd like...I still see them. Could it simply be that I will be a little unhappy in any city or place until I have someone to hold my hand in it?