There's No Place Like Home

I made the most of my trip to NYC. I saw a lot of friends, I felt good about work again -- amazing what human interaction and a window can do -- had my prescription renewed, got a really good haircut, vented about L.A., slept in my own bed, saw the trees in full bloom outside my West Village window and had a chocolate croissant from my fave patisserie. There is no doubt I love New York. There is no place like it. But as Dorothy says, there is also no place like home. And for me, California is that. It doesn't necessarily feel that way right now. I'm often confused about where I am and I regularly experience difficulty identifying my car in a parking garage -- thank god for the blinking lights triggered by my automatic key thingy. But I am in this for the long haul, for trips to Hawaii with my wonderful girlfriends, for drives -- instead of flights -- to see my parents, for trips to the beach and the mountains, for a sense that even if my world falls apart, I will be ok because I am home. That is a feeling I never had in New York.