#5- I hate math. But I love babies.

I'm terrified of my new job.

I'm nannying for two infants. Babies. Teeny tiny babies. Not one. Two. There are two of them, and they are very little and very incapable of using words to express what they want. So they cry and they cry and I have to figure out what's wrong. Double time.

I could so easily fuck this up.

One is a breast milk baby, the other formula, and they eat at the same time so I have to prepare two separate bottles in two separate ways. The older of the two is teething so she sobs like crazy until finally she passes out from exhaustion. The other hates drinking from a bottle as opposed to a boob so she wails until she finally gives in. It's important I remember when and how much they eat, when they poop, how long they nap, etc. Who knew taking care of infants would involve so much math?

I hate math. But I love babies. And I think that might be my saving grace.

I want these little girls to grow up happy and healthy, so even if I make some mistakes here and there, I know that I don't have it in me to mess up so badly that I harm either of them. I've never raised a child, and my employers know this, so there is definitely a learning curve that comes along with this position. And I plan to learn. I will learn how to kick ass at this job. And then I will kick major nannying ass.

Tears will be shed, by both the babies and me, but in the end I will have contributed to the development of two beautiful little girls. What could be more motivation to do well than that?

#4- I'm not well-read, but I do read well.

I don't read much.

For someone who loves writing, it is disgusting how little I read. The problem is I'm really picky. If you say, "Hey Mags, I think you would really like this book," I will politely thank you for the tip and then most likely make a mental note to never read the book you recommended. Sorry. Reading what others suggest feels like conforming somehow. It's insane but true.

Classic novels? Forget it. Needless to say, high school English classes were hell. Thank god for Spark Notes, am I right?

So what do I read? Well, my favorite book is "Winne The Pooh" by A.A. Milne. It is wonderful. Children and adults alike can appreciate the humor, the simple story lines and the quirky characters. I will never tire of it. And it has influenced my short-story writing immensely. As have the novels of Chuck Palahniuk. "Fight Club" changed my life.

I also read literary journalism and biographies. "A Death In Belmont" by Sebastian Junger is really cool. Check it out. I loved "A Fractured Mind: My Life With Multiple Personality Disorder" by Robert Oxnam. It was wild. And the best autobiography I have ever read is "Broken Music" by Sting. You think you know, but you have no idea...

Sometimes I feel like I'm sabotaging myself by not reading bestsellers, classic literature or books about European history, but reading for pleasure is about pleasure. I refuse to force myself to choke down a novel just because Oprah thought it was phenomenal. Screw Oprah. I'm going to rebel. I'm going to appreciate the under appreciated.

Currently I am reading Agatha Christie's "Curtain." Christie is by no means under appreciated, but she's oft forgotten. I found an old copy of the book at an antique store in Sagautuck, Michigan. That's another thing I can get down with; old books. Not old as in classic but old as in faded and worn and smelling of time. Sometimes they suck, sometimes they're incredible (i.e. "Maggie" by Lena Kennedy), but how I feel when I'm reading them can't be beat. It's like discovering buried treasure. If you can, stop by an antique or used book store. It's worth it just for the atmosphere.

So basically, reading only what you want doesn't make you stupid; it makes you who you are. And I am an over-grown child who is fascinated by murder mysteries and the life of Gordon "Sting" Sumner. I can't pretend to be anything else.

I'm not well-read, but I do read well.

I hope you can say the same.

#3- I can be a city girl.

Most people don't realize this, but I started out in the city. I was born in Chicago, and lived in Ravenswood (a north side neighborhood) until I was 5 and a half. My brother Harrison was 3 and Asher, little Ash-Bash, was just 1. I was about to start kindergarten and my parents decided that if they were ever going to move to the suburbs they might as well do it before I started to make real friends.

So we moved to Evanston.

I've spent the past 17 years of my life in this beautiful suburb just north of the city, and there is no where else in the world I would have rather grown up. You can't truly understand Evanston unless you've gone through grade school here, or you have had a child go through grade school here. The youth is what drives this place, gives it its character. Sometimes this character glistens with pride and rich, diverse culture; sometimes it is sullied with violence and hatred. No outsider can see all sides. (Especially not all you Northwestern kids. You can never know the real E.)

However, despite all the complex challenges Evanston posed, I still grew up in a suburb. It was easy to navigate, familiar, comfortable. When I began looking at colleges I shied away from schools like BU and NYU that existed amongst the crazy of the big city. I was afraid of getting lost, literally and figuratively. Intimidation was my middle name, so all city schools were out.

"But Maggie," you might say. "I thought Washington University was in a city." False. Although I attended a school that claimed to be "in St. Louis," Wash U is much like Northwestern; situated in a suburb just outside a large city. I felt safe going to a school sealed off in it's own bubble. But it had to end eventually and, after four years and a million wonderful memories inside the Wash U bubble, I am back in Evanston. Well, back for now...

Today I picked up the keys to my new apartment in the city of Chicago.

City girl is returning home, and once all my crap is moved out of this house and into my new place I am officially no longer an Evanston resident. "What? A city? Mags, I thought cities freaked you out." It's true. They do. Most people fear walking alone at night or getting robbed. I fear dropping a bag of groceries in front of a restaurant full of people on my way home from the store. I fear I'll get lost, I fear I'll hit an angry man's car while parking on a side street (which you know is a legitimate fear if you have seen my car), and I fear I am incapable of being an adult. But...

I can be a city girl.

I've got a job, I know how to get to it using public transportation, and I have two wonderful roommates who may be as clueless as I am but will protect me from myself. I have an amazing network of friends all living in the same general area that I can count on for anything. And if it all goes to shit I always have my parents waiting for me up north in the 'burbs.

Warning: "Friends" reference coming on...

Chicago is the New York to my Rachel. I have Monicas and Phoebes, Joeys and Chandlers, eventually a Ross and many a side character to meet. If a fictional spoiled brat from Long Island can make it in the big city then there is no way I can't. I'm from Evanston, I have the E embedded in my heart, and if you do too you know that it is the ultimate strength.

Besides, I'm living in Boystown. There are rainbows everywhere you look. Whats scary about that?