Sensory overload, and how you can become immune:

It has been too long since I last made an entry! I know I'm supposed to be talking about lampwork beads but, too much Facebooking I suppose. Ironically I like to write and often come up with ideas of things to write about but this is usually right before I fall asleep. So of course being more interested in sleep I nod off instead of jotting down my ideas. Well this is changing! Instead I have my iPhone on my nightstand and I type in a subject before it vanishes into dreamland with me. So I won’t tell you about the dream I had of John Travolta chewing on a teddy bear, but rather something that popped into my head that was an observation I’ve tucked away… Like what it was like to visit Chicago after moving away for 6 years. My husband and I met one of my girlfriends at a tea shop in Lincoln Park to catch up and relax for awhile before heading back to be with family. Well, I really couldn’t believe the bizarre feelings I was experiencing – the homesickness, feeling of belonging and the bizarre “how did I live here and not notice just how much stuff is going on every second of every minute of every hour that I sit/walk/wander here?” There were just too many things to look at. Too many people to inspect, facial expressions to read and fashion sense to evaluate. Where is she going? What did he order? Do those two over there know they look like they’re not getting along? I know for certain that I noticed all this before, but I’m guessing it was more subconscious, and possibly not registering…

Now suddenly my synapses were firing all over the place, and there it was- the pulse, the vibe of a place, the IT thing that people talk about but can’t describe. Then I felt a flush of remorse for ever moving away in the first place. I miss Chicago so much. Smart, no-nonsense people. I miss the cynicism, but not the criticism. It was just plain awesome to see so many people out and about, strolling along the narrow tree (and obstructive parking meter) lined street, stepping in and out of shops, chatting, pushing strollers, walking dogs, reading newspapers, postulating about music and film… and occasionally yapping about the Cubbies. Yes, my east coast friends, Chicago is a real city. (There are a few things that are completely and utterly wrong about that place, but there’s no way I’ll ever bother discussing it here.) I’ll even gracefully ignore the “It’s just fly-over territory” comments I received when I started meeting people when I lived in Los Angeles. Hurmph.

So back to my euphoric café outing… I sipped my (immensely trendy) tea and learned about the film festival my friend was orchestrating and started feeling cultured by proximity? Default? What is that word? Either way, it was all very fascinating compared to the sleepy suburb of Phoenix in which I now live. I’ve gotten so used to things being rather, shall we say, calm. Or perhaps I am projecting. Me? Calm? Sure why not. But really the point is, I have gotten so used to calm and consistently tame surroundings that being back in Chicago made me realize that I was probably operating at a constant rate of stimulation, if not stress, for the 8 years I lived in East Lakeview. So folks, what we have here is the problem of extremes. I went from living in a 24/7 party place, to a suburb that is about a 20 minute drive away from anything remotely trendy. (Trendy? Is there a better word? That sounds so negative. Bah.) Luckily there are a lot of really cool burgeoning (I love that word- inside joke) places in central Phoenix, but we are just so far from them.

So I was making a point. That day at the café, I realized that I am no longer immune to sensory overload. Maybe it’s ADD or just keen attention to detail, but I was determined to not miss a single thing. I had gotten rusty, perhaps become analog in my ability to register everything going on around me. It’s such a tragedy, really. However, now I am a really cheap date. Two glasses of wine and I’m rambling on and on about Chicago.