Friday
"A place that everybody hate, but you gotta see once"
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...
Tuesday
In which I admit something of which I am very ashamed
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.
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.
Tuesday
This is what I waste my life doing.
Sunday
Another reason to leave Springfield...
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
Tuesday
So on Saturday I sold my life...nobody wanted it.
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
Sunday
So, on Saturday, I'm selling my life.
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
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....
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.