Back in the good ol' US of A

So I'm back. In Chicago. I'm not sure whether it's the reverse culture shock of being in the states or just being back here in my hometown after being absent for ages but it's weird. I'm suspecting it must the latter since it's been way more about what I've noticed having changed or lack there of, and the things that still remain that I've completely forgotten about. Perhaps it's a testament to how much I've changed as well. Chicago is nostalgic and completely foreign all at once. I'm disoriented, a stranger in my own city and it's only through the comfort of being with my closest friends and family that I'm able to keep from succumbing to the alienation that threatens to swallow me up at times.

I remember what it was like to live and walk amongst these inhabitants. The feeling of the city was and is still very solid, cemented and real. Chicago is a no nonsense town. People don't change much. In Chicago, you follow routine and do the things you are supposed to do like everyone else. You go to school, you get a job, get married, buy a house, have children, and grow old. You don't wander very far and when you do you almost always inevitably return. In recent months I've been contacted through facebook from email blasts from the past. Old high school classmates, best friends, acquaintances, etcetera. The majority of them still live within a fifty mile radius of Chicago and all of them are married, possibly with kids and a house somewhere.

Weird.
Kids.

Arriving into O'hare was the 1st time I actually thought about my own mortality in a long time. Afterall, in what seems like a blink of an eye, 15 years have passed since high school graduation. I joined the army, finished college, moved to another city, have had multiple long-term relationships, traveled around the world, and just plain lived out my strange and sometimes surreal life. There's not a whole lot different from before. I still rent. I'm still single. I don't have much in material possessions and barely a savings now that I've squandered half of it on traveling. I feel like I'm standing still but time is moving very fast. My life is a collection of experiences with hardly anything tangible to show for it except for some pictures and a blog I try to keep up with once in while. Oh yea, I have two cats but even they are at the midpoint of their lives and will be ghosts before the close of this next decade. My relationship with my parents and sisters are essentially the same. We're still kids to them and even to ourselves. I'm not sure what my parents think about us. Occasionally my mom will show concern about the parade of partners I've steadily streamed through but I think deep down she knows she might never see grandkids from any of us in her lifetime so she never bothers asking.

In less than 2 weeks I'll be back in SF. Not sure how that's gonna be. I'm worried I might fall back into nasty old habits. Traveling has made me re-evaluate and reconsider what is important in life. Is it career and social mobility? Or is the key to happiness simplicity and staying present? I thought traveling would answer a lot of questions for me. Instead it's only created more.

I'm not really sure what i'm trying to say with any of this. Guess I'm only trying to make sense of it all.