Way too many uses of 'different'

I have a lot to do, so this will be brief.

The last couple of Fridays, I went out on the lake. No particular reason. Someone wanted to do it, so I tagged along. Turns out it was an excellent idea.

When I was out there, freezing half to death from the icy slashes of wind, I looked at the city from the other side. And I was awed. For sheer size, I suppose New York would have Chicago beat. But the skyline in this city is so much more pleasingly put together. Each building is dripping with character, clashes proudly with every other, but somehow the whole is beautiful.

It's fairly obvious that Gotham City is based on Chicago, but I have to say that it's not a fair reflection. In Gotham City, the buildings are dark and foreboding, crumbling under their own myth, an embodiment of the festering corruption that taints the people in the buildings. You can feel so much more pride emanating from the buildings of Chicago. They may not be the largest in the world, or even America, but they are each unique. Ugly, perhaps. But placed together in context, the skyline looks like a comic book representation of an idealised urban centre. Not the Metropolis ideal, where it's bright and sunny and the huge skyscrapers catch and amplify the light. No, not that ideal. But a serious city. One where people go to work, not to chase a dream. Not a city teeming with life, but one with a calm, subdued manner.

The good thing about going out on the lake on consecutive weekends is that I saw it in light and night. In the day, the skyline is what I would present to an observer to show what a modern city should look like. At night, it is simply a gorgeous, comfortable view. It is the view that I want from my window at night.

When I was a kid, I remember watching some movie on television, about a doctor. The storyline is irrelevant, but what caught my imagination was a scene where Fox stood before the window of his apartment in the evening, with an incredible landscape of skyscrapers unfolded before him, dramatic and sharp. I decided then that I wanted that sort of view from my window.

When I first went to the John Hancock bar at night, I was stunned. The view was exactly what I had envisioned for my dream window. Buildings looming before you, dark, spotted with lights in their windows, outlined against other skyscrapers, razor sharp and clean. I could sit there and stare forever. Gorgeous.

In other news, I'm not sure anymore. I suppose that I used to be, but things change. But it seems a dramatic change when no one event is the trigger. I know others will point to some things and proclaim those the turning points, but I don't work like that. Maybe I work differently than I think. Maybe this is just different from before. Maybe I'm changing a bit, looking for something a little different.

In the end, my indicator is what I think of as I lie in the dark, waiting to fall asleep.