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...
