Friday

"A place that everybody hate, but you gotta see once"

I haven't written in a long time, I realize this. Every time I would start typing, all of these negative things would come out, like, "The weather in LA right now is at 73 degrees. Here it's 42." I really don't want my blog to become a place where I always vent. Nobody wants to read about a middle class white girl living in a small, somewhat boring town who has almost everything she could possibly want and yet whines about the one thing she doesn't have.
That being said, I still have my aspirations to move. This place has always felt like a layover between stops; I've never imagined settling down here without living somewhere else first. This town is way too small to hold my gargantuan goals and dreams. I still call the town I grew up in "home," and I think it's because this place has never been somewhere I planned on staying for an extended period.
I'd always told myself that I want to stay close to home, and I ignored that flutter of excitement that I felt whenever I thought about moving somewhere new. "I'll miss my family way too much," I would say (which is very true...I'm sure I'd miss them so much it would hurt a little bit). I also had "it's too expensive" in my arsenal of excuses. Besides, I'd been to New York before and didn't care too much for it. We stayed for about a week, and every day I felt like I should take 7 showers just to stay clean. Plus, when you are going out for your 3-year anniversary dinner and you get hooted at by construction workers (just like in the movies!!!) even though your husband is right beside you, it kind of ruins the romance of the evening. But when I went to LA, it just felt right. I know this sounds cliche and/or cheesy, but it felt like home. Even though the traffic was almost always moving approximately 0.5 miles per hour. Even though the homeless outnumbered everyone 2 to 1. Even though most apartments cost more per month than some used vehicles do. I fell in love with this place, the home of everyone from Tom Hanks to Conan O'Brien to Rebecca Woolf (who I am absolutely in love with. I kind of want her life.) to Carl, the old man with no teeth who gives crappy henna tattoos on Venice Beach.

Regardless of my love affair, everybody else in California hates LA. Every time the hubs and I would mention that we wanted to move to LA when talking to someone from California, we were met with overwhelming negativity. People hate it there. Angelenos are too full of themselves, the city is dirty, cost of living is expensive. I understand their concerns. It is kind of dirty. And it is atrociously expensive. And I'm sure some people are slightly full of themselves. But honestly, people here are not any better. I deal with more hateful people in one day at my current job during the holidays (in other words, now) than I dealt with in 2 weeks in LA.

The thing is, all of the awesome outnumbers the horrible. You can go snow-skiing in the morning and then go to the beach that very same evening. You can take a day trip to Vegas. You can eat Pinkberry while carrying Ikea bags into Anthropologie (which is my ideal day, not going to lie). You can catch a Conan show in the evening after spending the day shopping at a farmer's market where you can choose from a huge selection of fresh, organic fruits and vegetables (ok, maybe this is my ideal day). But my absolute favorite thing about LA is that you can just be. You are completely free to be, wear, do whatever you want, without judgement or negativity. In a town full of artists, expressing yourself in whatever way you choose is expected. Keep in mind, this is coming from someone who has spent her whole life battling insecurities about everything from her waist size to her academic achievements. I want to rise above that, take this huge risk, and do something completely different with my life than I ever expected. I want to force myself to jump out of the airplane. I know the thrill and the experience will be worth it. Now if only I could afford it...

Wednesday

Lost...

WARNING: This is not a happy post. It’s not light-hearted and positive, like the others. It’s actually a little depressing. Don’t judge me. It’s hard to have your entire plan of action uprooted suddenly. Look at the effect it had on Sarah Palin.




Haha. Sorry, that was me being slightly facetious. Anyways, don't be harsh. I'm pretty sure I'll be back to my bubbly, light hearted self tomorrow, but tonight, I need to vent a little. So, here we go:


From the moment the decision to stay was made, I felt one overwhelming emotion: relief. Relief that we were not going to pay a ridiculous amount of money to live in underwhelming conditions, relief that I would not be moving thousands of miles away from my family and friends, relief that I got to hold on to the familiar, the comfortable. But as the weeks have moved on, the relief has faded, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste of uncertainty. I had a set path, a plan, a goal that I was working towards when California was in the forecast. Although I was a little nervous about the unknown, and very unsettled about the costs, I had a purpose. And now, I’m disoriented, set adrift from my steady, albeit treacherous, course. The sense of accomplishment that accompanied graduation has suddenly derailed as I realize that I’m still almost as unqualified for the job that I’m seeking as I was when I started. I still have so much further to go, and the way to get there has suddenly hit a dead end. I have to turn around, make my way back, take a different fork, and start applying for Master’s/Doctoral programs for next year.

Pray for me, guys. This lost feeling is much worse than the nervousness I felt about LA. Finding a steady footing on a wall of ifs seems impossible. But although the competent, capable feelings of a college graduate did not come in the mail with my college diploma, as I expected, this ambiguity will pass. The hubs is taking the MCAT in the fall, and we’re both applying to graduate schools this winter. I know that with these steps will come some certainty, and I will be able to evict this unsettled feeling from the pit of my stomach. 

Tuesday

In which I admit something of which I am very ashamed

Ok, so it has been almost a month a long time since I have blogged. I have a really good reason for it, though. Can you guess which one?

A) I got tired/bored of blogging and just forgot. (A lot of people do this, I think, because I went through about a dozen names for this blog before I decided on this one, and they were all taken. Some examples: Frankly, My Dear [after my favorite movie]; Los Angeles, I'm Yours; LdotAdot, and so on. Do you see how annoying this might be for me, who really wants to use the name, but can't, because someone forgot to deactivate their blog when they realized they weren't using it anymore? And no, Blogger, I don't want to use the web address losangelesimyours291597435973549850850854.blogspot.com. I just want my own personal name!!!!) Ok, sorry about that huge rant. Moving on.

B) I watched the Cirque du Freak movie with John C. Reilly and was so inspired that I joined the circus. Therefore I have very limited internet access because I am constantly moving from city to city, swallowing swords and hanging from trapezes and such.

C) The hubs and I have decided not to move to California. I was so ashamed of posting this after starting a blog whose sole purpose was to document my path to LA that I put it off for weeks. WEEKS.

If you guessed C, you'd be correct (although I did watch Cirque du Freak and John C. Reilly was amazing). I'm......not moving to LA. And because I am so ashamed to tell all of my blog readers this, I decided to write LA a letter instead. The city is very forgiving, you know.


Dear Los Angeles,
We tried, we really did. But the fact is, as much as I want to be with you, I'm just not ready to make the sacrifices required. I would have to give up almost everything I have, just because of a choice which was mostly based off of my romanticized dreams of what you would be like. Someday, when I have a real, adult job, we can be together. But it's just not feasible now.


Making the decision to stay with Missouri was so difficult. Every time I remember something that I was specifically looking forward to about you, it pulls at my heart. Knowing that winter here is going to be bitterly cold, and that I am going to spend it pale and bundled, rather than stretched out on your mild beaches, depresses me. My stomach aches for Pinkberry and the low-fat yumminess it promises. Tell Ikea and Anthropologie that I will miss them dearly (but I have a feeling I wouldn't see much of Anthropologie anyways, because all of my money would be going to you).


Secretly, though, I think my family disapproved of you. You weren't what they wanted for my life. You were too dangerous and unpredictable. You've wooed many other women with your golden sands and promises of celebrity sightings only to break their hearts with disappointment and unemployment. I know they're happier this way.


I hope we can still be friends for now. I will visit as often as possible. I can't commit to you just yet, but I will someday. Wait for me, Los Angeles.


I remain, as always, yours,
Monica



The Housing Situation. It's not good.

So, there is only a month and a half before the big move, and the hubs and I have yet to establish some form of living arrangement. Believe me, we’ve tried. We have scored Craigslist, perused apartment magazines, and even scouted out locations on our last trip. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The first barrier is the price. It’s not unusual for 800 square feet to go for $2400. Our budget is a paltry $1200. This means that the average apartment we look at is 500 square feet or so. It is usually a cockroach-infested, musty-smelling shoebox with bad plumbing and 70’s carpet. Obviously, I’m not eager to commit (See: last blog post).


We finally had our friend look at a place for us. It was 3 blocks from my school and a local farmer’s market, as well as within easy walking distance from both of our current jobs. It was…well, not perfect, because it was smaller than most prison cells. But it was good enough. Until I found that the Better Business Bureau had given the apartment’s management company an F. (The hubs was still willing to give it a try, but THEN I read that one of this company’s building’s plumbing backed up so badly that there was poop in the bathtub for a week before anyone even came to fix it. POOP!!! I realize that there are people in Africa that live in even worse conditions, but before I could feel too guilty, I remembered that they are not paying $1200 a month to live in said conditions. Guilt averted.)


I know I need to lower my standards a little. I’m not going to find the place I have now for a price that I can afford. And the places we looked at in Los Angeles weren’t as bad as one of the houses we looked at here in Springfield: when I tried to open a closet door, the doorknob fell off in my hand. (The lady showing us the house was so befuddled and bewildered that I wanted to hug her. But I didn’t want to rent her place.) Anyways, I just want to find a decent place with no 70’s carpet, no cockroaches, a stove AND a refrigerator, close to my school, and enough room to put a bed and couch. For $1200 or under, preferably. I’m not sure it’s possible. I should probably talk the hubs into letting me find a Hollywood sugar daddy. I’ve heard that George Clooney is available…and if he’s not yet, he probably will be soon. That man goes through women like I go through socks. It’s only a matter of time…


UPDATE: The hubs has suggested that he dress up like Spiderman and take pictures with tourists outside of Grauman's Chinese Theatre. I like this idea. I should probably think of someone to dress up as, too. Every little bit of cash helps, you know. 

Friday

Possibly the longest and most rambling post I will ever post. I'm sorry, in advance.



My mom said I’m flighty.
My academic advisor said I am intelligent, and therefore have many avenues in which I could succeed.
The internet says I show moderate to high levels of ADD. (Not the hyperactive kind, just the oh wait, what were you saying? I zoned out. That kind)

Whatever the case, I’m not good with commitment. I’m not talking about the relationship kind. I am worlds of awesome at the relationship kind; I’ve been with the hubs for nine years. Give me any other commitment, though, and it takes an Atlas-like effort for me to sustain. On the outside, it simply looks like a severe case of indecisiveness, but I know better. It’s not normal to change your major four five six times. Inside, my brain was saying, “I’m bored, let’s try something new!” and I was like, “No, brain, I like this class, and I could see myself getting a job in this field” and then my brain throws reasons that I will NOT, in fact, like the field at me. For example, this is what happened in my head during college:

Fall, Freshman Year: Physical Therapy
I like physical therapy. I had to get physical therapy on my hand and it was fun and the ladies were really nice and you make a lot of money, and I could do that. I was a good patient and I’m sure that I will have good patients and everybody will love me. Wait, some people scream? I don’t want to make people scream, though. Oh, and I have to touch people in a lot of places. Sometimes on their upper thighs. That would be really awkward. I’m not sure I’d like to do that. Maybe I will go with something else. It’s still early in my college career, I have plenty of time to decide.

Also Fall, Freshman Year: Elementary Education
I can be a kindergarten teacher!!! YAY! I love children! They are cute and fun! We will have a great time and I will teach them their numbers and letters. And they will love me and, wait, what? Sometimes they pee on you? They’re supposed to be potty-trained!!! They’re like, 6! That’s disgusting! Holy crap, every kid I have seen in Walmart today has been throwing a tantrum. That kid just kicked his mom! GAH, I hate kids!!!! I don’t want have one of my own for a VERY long time, much less teach the little hooligans!!!
           
Life Event: Get engaged

Spring, Freshman Year: Psychology
I LOVED my gen ed psychology class! It was so interesting! And I love to help people, and listen to people’s problems. This is a good major. I want to be a clinical psychologist! That would be a fun and interesting job! I could get my masters and my Ph.D. and I would make good money doing something that I think is full of awesome. Wait, the fiancĂ© wants to go to medical school? That is very expensive, and if he goes to medical school, then that means I should probably make money right out of college so we don’t die of our poorness, or have to sleep outside in a box. I don’t even like camping that much, so I would hate to sleep outside in a box. I should probably change my major to something where I am guaranteed to get a good job right after college. And switch colleges, so I won’t have to drive 45 miles to school every day.

            Life Event: Get married and transfer to new college
           
Fall, Junior Year: Nursing
Yay, nursing is a great job! I will be a nurse, and I will work while the hubs goes to medical school! I am such a good wife, and we will grow up and work in the same hospital and be like something off of Gray’s Anatomy, only less dramatic. Oh, what is this? A catheter? I have to stick that WHERE???? And clean up urine/fecal matter? GAAAHHH I don’t want to do that! What was I thinking??? What, the hubs? I should go to medical school with you? Oh that’s silly! It’s too expensive! We could never do that! You think we can? Really? I’m that smart? Ok! Let’s do it!

Spring, Junior Year: Cell and Molecular Biology
Yay, I’m going to be a doctor! I’m going to make BANK by helping people and I do love to help people. I…wait, this is crazy! The hubs and I can’t both be doctors! It’s madness! The hubs, what were you thinking convincing me to do this? We will be in debt for all of forever, and we will be the only two homeless doctors in America. Oh, I should be a Physician’s Assistant and then I won’t have to change my major? Ok, sounds good. Lala, Physician’s Assistant. Man these classes are really hard. Maybe I should change my major to Biology. That would work just as well, and then I could get more A’s and less B’s. No, I’m staying the course. I have changed my major five times. I just need to power through. But I did so good in Gen. Chem. Maybe I should change my major to Chemistry. I like Chemistry. NO! POWER THROUGH, DADGUMMIT! Wait, the hubs thinks it would be fun to open a tea lounge? That WOULD be fun! We should do that! And I can decorate it all artsy and paint the chairs….what am I saying? I have to graduate!!! But opening my own bakery would be fun! (Proceeds to buy some recipe books.) Stop! Focus! Graduate!  But I HATE this major! I’m too much of a perfectionist, and working this many hours a week and trying to get A’s in these classes is IMPOSSIBLE!!! I’m miserable and I am having mini nervous breakdowns every few weeks. Plus I HATE physics and math. Must change to protect sanity.

And that, my friends, is how I graduated with a Psychology degree (and a minor in Biomedical Sciences) in just FIVE years!

Anyway, the point to this whole post is the fact that I am a commitment-phobe. And now I’m starting to do that with California. One day, I’m a ridiculous Pollyanna who knows we can make it, no matter the cost. The next, I’m Debbie Downer (wah-wah), who thinks this idea is crazy and that we will probably die from poorness (or gang-related violence…I could easily be mistaken for a gang member, you know. Word.). Needless to say, I’m flip-flopping more than John Kerry during the election years. I’m feeling especially claustrophobic now that we’ve paid the $500 deposit to my school to hold my place. SO, will Monica make it to California, or will her evil, despicable, commitment-shy alter ego throw a wrench in the whole she-bang to cause a whole mess of callywompusness? (That’s right, callywompus. My mother-in-law says that, and I’ve been dying to use it. Or maybe it’s cattywonkus. I don’t know.) Stay tuned.  

Tuesday

This is what I waste my life doing.

So, Steve is about to kick me out of bed, because he has to get up in about 4 hours and I'm laying here reading a blog that makes me squeak and snort at random. I'm pretty slap-happy right now, so that's not hard to do, but I had to share this blog with everyone because I love it! I promise that eventually I will write a real post. Maybe even a good one. But tonight:


Sunday

Another reason to leave Springfield...

Cheezies has closed. I'm so distressed about this that I felt the need to write a blog post about it. Cheezies was the best pizza place in town, and it was only $5 to get a medium one-topping. Instead, we have a new pizza place called McDucks, with higher prices and pizza that is nowhere near the garlicky greatness that was Cheezies. I feel like there should be a moment of silence.




Ok, that's good.


I realize this post is really lame, but I am tired because I have traveled from one end of the country to the other within the last month two and a half weeks (and then to KCMO after that), sustained two terrible sunburns, and fallen down the stairs of my apartment complex, so my normally superbad immune system is all, "Peace out, homegirl, I'm going on vacation, too" and now my throat hurts. Ok, so that may actually be from singing in the car for 3.274 hours to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack. But still.

ANYWAYS, I know this post might be a bit of a disappointment, so I decided to include this picture that I think is funny to compensate. Enjoy.


UPDATE: Ok, so apparently I was a little quick to judge McDuck's...I got on their website and they are actually about the same price, and their thin crust is actually CHEAPER than Cheezies, coming in at a cool $3.99. We ordered a couple just now and I have decided to reserve judgment until I have tasted them.


FURTHER UPDATE: Please disregard blog post (except for the picture of the hubs and Peanut). McDuck's is pretty good. That is all.


EVEN FURTHER UPDATE: Apparently the place is actually called Muducks...WTF???

Friday

I DID ask for a sign...


I didn't expect to get one. Well played, God.

Tuesday

So on Saturday I sold my life...nobody wanted it.

I didn't do as well as I hoped at my yardsale. My mother and my grandma, both incredibly skilled in the art of yardsaling, were quick to explain that it was because we started at 10. I know, I know, yardsales are supposed to start at some ungodly hour when even the sun is smart enough to still be in bed. I didn't think it would make that big of a difference. Obviously I was wrong.

Also, did you know that people STEAL from yard sales? Because they do, apparently. A lady bought about $30 worth of video games (which we actually gave her a deal on...) and went back to the cabinet where we had all the games and DVDs. I noticed that she picked up three seasons of Nip/Tuck and was looking at them. I looked away, and when I looked back up, she was walking to her car. I went over to the cabinet to straighten up everything after she had rooted through it, and noticed they were gone. Now, I'm always prone to believing the best in everyone. She couldn't POSSIBLY have taken them, she simply sat them down somewhere else! I told myself. And after I had tea with a unicorn and ate a cherry cupcake with some rainbows and flowers, I looked around for where she had misplaced them. They weren't there! She really HAD taken them! At this point, she had already driven down the street, so it was too late to go after them. But after a careful inventory we discovered that she had also gotten away with a Christian CD. Go figure.

Now that the yardsale is over, I'm still coming away with a bunch of stuff and a farmer's tan (alright, alright, more like a sunburn) that could rival this guy's. Ok, so that could be a bit of an exaggeration. The main point is that I have to get rid of this stuff! I got actual price quotes from moving truck companies, and when you count both the truck rental and the fuel cost, we'd be spending less if we got rid of all of our old furniture and bought new furniture at Ikea. This time, sadly, I'm not exaggerating. So we're having ANOTHER yardsale this Saturday. And this time, we're getting up while it's dark outside.

Brand New Colony















"Everything will change..." (Postal Service-Brand New Colony)
(All photos have links to the websites where I found them. Except for the last picture of Missouri, I didn't take these.)

Sunday

So, on Saturday, I'm selling my life.

It costs $800+ to rent a moving truck and drive across the country. $800+!!!! As my husband would say, holy balls. This would all be well and good if we were two college grads with full-time jobs and a hefty savings account, but we are, in fact, two students with part-time jobs and empty pockets. Because of our lack of funding, we are unable to rent a truck, and because we are unable to rent a truck, we have to part with a lot of our STUFF. We're having a yard-sale on Saturday.

This isn't easy for me. I keep useless things for sentimental reasons; I feel guilty parting with 3-year-old wedding gifts from people I don't even talk to, much less that little candy dish that my great aunt gave me. Besides, this is stuff that the hubs and I made our life together with. Gah, the sentimentality!

Don't get me wrong, I'm ridiculously excited about getting away from here, forging my own trail, and doing something completely different than I ever expected to do in my life. But I'm also utterly terrified. I'm throwing myself into the void of the unknown, with the hubs as my only bungee cord. God, give me strength.

Wednesday

Tallying my Losses and Gains

What I Will Miss About Missouri...

My family

My friends

Victoria’s Secret Store 349

My car, Molly (we’ll be taking Steve’s car, Edna, a 1998 Escort. Not sure if this is a wise decision.)

My huge apartment (and the cheap rent)

88.3 The Wind

Andy’s Frozen Custard

Gas prices

Snow

The (relative lack of) traffic

Gift Connection

Autumn drives (the colors are beautiful)

Gailey’s

The St. Louis Cardinals

The stars

The fact that I’m considered “really tiny” here; in LA, I’ll be considered relatively average.


What I won’t miss about Missouri

Humidity

Ice

Lack of things to do

Wal-Mart

Tyson chicken (I watched Food, Inc....it’s bad stuff)

Humidity

Giant, gas-guzzling trucks without mufflers

“Miss me yet?” billboards with George W. Bush pictures (no, I don’t, actually)

Lack of recycling facilities

Humidity

The plethora of country music stations

Rain

Gun stores in the mall

These things

Being in the middle of nothing (the closest major cities are Kansas City and St. Louis, and they are both about 3 hours away)

Humidity

The vehicle decals of that stupid little boy peeing on stuff

The political close-mindedness

The ridiculous amount of bugs

Rednecks

Faux Hipsters

SEMO Times

Humidity

Tuesday

Maybe I'm crazy....

I'm in Los Angeles today: It smells like an airport runway.
Jet fuel stenches in the cabin and lights flickering at random.
I'm in Los Angeles today:
Garbage cans comprise the medians of freeways always creeping
even when the population's sleeping.

And I can't see why you'd want to live here.

I'm in Los Angeles today:
Asked a gas station employee if he ever had trouble breathing
and he said, "It varies from season to season, kid."
It's where our best are on display:
motion picture actors' houses maps are never ever current,
so save your film and fifteen dollars.

And I can't see why you'd want to live here,
Billboards reach past the tallest buildings,
"We are not perfect
but we sure try" as UV rays degrade our youth with time.

The vessel keeps pumping us through this entropic place
in the belly of the beast that is Californ-i-a,
I drank from the faucet and I kept my receipt
for when they weigh me on the way out (here nothing is free).
The Greyhounds keep coming, dumping locusts into the street
until the gutters overflow and Los Angeles thinks,
"I might explode someday soon."

It's a lovely summer's day
and I can almost see a skyline through a thickening shroud of egos.
Is this the city of angels or demons?
Here the names are what remain: stars encapsulate the gold lame
and they need constant cleaning for when the tourists begin salivating.

And I can't see why you'd want to live here.
Billboards reach past the tallest buildings,
You can't swim in a town this shallow;
you will most assuredly drown tomorrow.
(Why You'd Want to Live Here-Death Cab for Cutie)

...but I'm moving anyways.