I said those words as Matt and I drove home from a night hanging out in the garden restaurant of Chateau Marmont. While we were there, I drank wine and we all laughed and the heat-lamps kept us warm and the setting was private and beautiful. Jason, who was staying there, gave us the grand tour of the old-fashioned homey rooms, the adorable secluded bungalows, the heated pool, the grounds with lush plants and sweet-smelling flowers. We did not spot any celebs (though I'd heard Lindsay Lohan could show up there after being busted for a DUI) but felt like we were hanging with the beautiful people for a night.
On the way home, Beck played over the stereo, the traffic moved quickly, the lights of the city shown brightly and I felt happy to be heading to our little home at the Park La Brea in the heart of Los Angeles.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Saturday, May 26, 2007
"Everything is Different"
Matt said to me yesterday "everything is different about our new life – and even we are different." What's weird about moving to L.A. is that everything is different and everything is the same. In a way it feels totally foreign – yet everyone speaks English and uses American money and drives on the "correct" side of the road. There stores are the same – StarBucks, Gap, Banana, Crate and Barrel. Still, everything feels different – the weather, the quality of light, the people I see every day, the scents in the air, the way I transport myself from place to place. In a way it seems like people should be speaking a foreign language or we should be converting dollars into another currency because then we'd have a real excuse for being so out of sorts.
Random Notes: Tonight we have plans to go to the Chateau Marmont with our friend Victor and his friend, Jason. It's super Hollywood – where lots of celebs hang out. We are sooo, L.A. I can't even believe it. And, last week Matt went to the second to last night of American Idol, which is also so L.A. it cracks me up. And, we saw Sheryl Crow shopping for furniture.
New subject: When I was still in NYC, I found a stash of money I had been saving. It was a huge wad of $1 bills that I'd put away for 2 reasons: First, I had read "Rich Dad, Poor Dad," which suggests putting away $3 a day (I never did this, but sometime put in $2 and for a while was really into putting away $1 a day.) The second reason was Sept. 11. In a disaster, the ATMs might not work and I might need some cash on hand. Thus the wad of $$$. Matt saw it and laughingly suggested that if I brought all those $1 bills to the bank, the teller would think I was a stripper. Later, at the bank the man looked at the pile of money and raised an eyebrow – he totally thought I was a stripper! So I said to him, "It's my terrorism money," which made him look alarmed. "I mean, I had it in case there was another attack," I said. He looked at me like I was crazy, gave me nine $20 bills and was probably so relieved to see me go. (I have no good reason to tell this story, but it's been rattling around in my head, so I figured I'd write it down.)
Random Notes: Tonight we have plans to go to the Chateau Marmont with our friend Victor and his friend, Jason. It's super Hollywood – where lots of celebs hang out. We are sooo, L.A. I can't even believe it. And, last week Matt went to the second to last night of American Idol, which is also so L.A. it cracks me up. And, we saw Sheryl Crow shopping for furniture.
New subject: When I was still in NYC, I found a stash of money I had been saving. It was a huge wad of $1 bills that I'd put away for 2 reasons: First, I had read "Rich Dad, Poor Dad," which suggests putting away $3 a day (I never did this, but sometime put in $2 and for a while was really into putting away $1 a day.) The second reason was Sept. 11. In a disaster, the ATMs might not work and I might need some cash on hand. Thus the wad of $$$. Matt saw it and laughingly suggested that if I brought all those $1 bills to the bank, the teller would think I was a stripper. Later, at the bank the man looked at the pile of money and raised an eyebrow – he totally thought I was a stripper! So I said to him, "It's my terrorism money," which made him look alarmed. "I mean, I had it in case there was another attack," I said. He looked at me like I was crazy, gave me nine $20 bills and was probably so relieved to see me go. (I have no good reason to tell this story, but it's been rattling around in my head, so I figured I'd write it down.)
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Starting From Scratch
The board of my co-op in New York rejected the buyer for my apartment. When I heard the news, my stomach literally dropped like I was on a roller-coaster. I began to cry. I closed the door to my office. What's weird is that I knew this would happen. They were taking too long to decide. I have been sensing it would not work out, but I tried to ignore. Now, it's real.
I am upset. I am angry. I am a money panicker. But I have gotten advice from some wise women. Matt's sister, Sarah, told me that although it doesn't seem like it sometimes, things work out for the best in the end. (Sarah, you can correct me and tell me your exact words.) My mom told me that when she is going through something difficult, she thinks to herself: 'This will all be over in a year, maybe not in a week or a month, but in a year this will be done.' And my co-worker Emily, who was once rejected by a New York co-op, told me my apt. is great and it will sell. So I choose to believe these words.
Tonight, Matt and I are getting together with some good friends, Tobias and Michael, to watch the finale of "Lost" and order pizza. I'm so grateful to have that simple pleasure of friendship.
I am upset. I am angry. I am a money panicker. But I have gotten advice from some wise women. Matt's sister, Sarah, told me that although it doesn't seem like it sometimes, things work out for the best in the end. (Sarah, you can correct me and tell me your exact words.) My mom told me that when she is going through something difficult, she thinks to herself: 'This will all be over in a year, maybe not in a week or a month, but in a year this will be done.' And my co-worker Emily, who was once rejected by a New York co-op, told me my apt. is great and it will sell. So I choose to believe these words.
Tonight, Matt and I are getting together with some good friends, Tobias and Michael, to watch the finale of "Lost" and order pizza. I'm so grateful to have that simple pleasure of friendship.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Let's Call the Whole Thing Off
On Saturday, Matt and I were unpacking. It was sunny and I felt good about finally being able to locate some of my shit. If our life was a movie, this scene would be a montage of opening boxes, folding sweaters, moving furniture and smiles. But it's not. In the afternoon, Matt sat down in his green chair – the beautiful, cushy chair that he had long before he met me – and stared out the window. "Are you ok?" I asked, and rubbed his head. "I need some alone time," he said – curtly.
It scared me. Matt does everything right. He follows directions while making pasta. He shows up to work early and stays late. He drives the speed limit. But I don’t think he likes it, and I'm afraid that one day he will just say, "fuck it," and drop out – of everything. It seemed to me that sitting in the chair and staring at our new lawn, he was about to bolt – from California, from his job, from me.
About 15 minutes later, I walked into the living room and he was still in the chair, this time quietly snoring. Oh, he was just exhausted.
On Monday, he called me sounding like he'd been drinking a lot of coffee and said he was about to get a car. I knew he'd seen a used Volkswagen GTI with low mileage advertised at a dealer, so I asked, "Is it the GTI?" He paused for a while then said, "Yes." To be clear, I asked, "Is it the used one?" "No," he said. Turns out he was about to lease a brand new GTI, even though we had talked about buying a used car. Then I realized that mostly I had talked about that. He'd listened and said nothing.
A few hours later, he drove up in his new car, excited and panic-stricken as we both tend to get after spending large sums of money. (In my case, that is anything over $120.) We sat in the car and he told me that getting it means that we are really going to give Calif. a chance – for at least three years, which is the length of the lease. I told him about how worried I was he was going to up and leave during that alone-time in the green chair. He told me not to worry and not to say that. Then we went inside and ate tamales.
It scared me. Matt does everything right. He follows directions while making pasta. He shows up to work early and stays late. He drives the speed limit. But I don’t think he likes it, and I'm afraid that one day he will just say, "fuck it," and drop out – of everything. It seemed to me that sitting in the chair and staring at our new lawn, he was about to bolt – from California, from his job, from me.
About 15 minutes later, I walked into the living room and he was still in the chair, this time quietly snoring. Oh, he was just exhausted.
On Monday, he called me sounding like he'd been drinking a lot of coffee and said he was about to get a car. I knew he'd seen a used Volkswagen GTI with low mileage advertised at a dealer, so I asked, "Is it the GTI?" He paused for a while then said, "Yes." To be clear, I asked, "Is it the used one?" "No," he said. Turns out he was about to lease a brand new GTI, even though we had talked about buying a used car. Then I realized that mostly I had talked about that. He'd listened and said nothing.
A few hours later, he drove up in his new car, excited and panic-stricken as we both tend to get after spending large sums of money. (In my case, that is anything over $120.) We sat in the car and he told me that getting it means that we are really going to give Calif. a chance – for at least three years, which is the length of the lease. I told him about how worried I was he was going to up and leave during that alone-time in the green chair. He told me not to worry and not to say that. Then we went inside and ate tamales.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Cheesecake Hell
I'd never heard of the Cheesecake Factory until about a year ago when I visited my dad for Christmas and, to my horror, we ate there. I say "to my horror" because as a New Yorker, I am trained to hate all massive, giant-portioned, grossly slick chain restaurants. Now, we live across the street from The Grove -- an amusing, terrifying yet convenient mall -- in which a Cheesecake Factory in housed. Matt and I ate there last night -- at my suggestion. I figured it's close, cheap and easy. But halfway through our meal I was overcome with a nearly uncontrollable urge to run out of the restaurant. A huge family was milling around next to our table, scooping their heaping leftovers into boxes; the air conditioning was set on full blast; my grilled chicken was dry and overcooked. It took every once of willpower I possess not to jump up and run out screaming.
I've actually had this feeling a lot since moving to L.A. I'm not comfortable anywhere. Everywhere I go is too cold, crowded, unfamiliar, loud or whatever. I'm constantly wanting to leave wherever I am to find a place where I feel at home. That might take a while.
After the Cheesecake Factory ordeal -- poor Matt had to talk me down from my freak out -- I cam home and passed out on our mattress with all the lights on and still wearing my glasses.
This morning Matt summed it up best: "We probably shouldn't be eating at places that have the word 'Factory' in the name."
Cheers to that.
I've actually had this feeling a lot since moving to L.A. I'm not comfortable anywhere. Everywhere I go is too cold, crowded, unfamiliar, loud or whatever. I'm constantly wanting to leave wherever I am to find a place where I feel at home. That might take a while.
After the Cheesecake Factory ordeal -- poor Matt had to talk me down from my freak out -- I cam home and passed out on our mattress with all the lights on and still wearing my glasses.
This morning Matt summed it up best: "We probably shouldn't be eating at places that have the word 'Factory' in the name."
Cheers to that.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
It's Cold Here
I have never understood why everyone thinks California has such great weather. Maybe I'll get it in say, October, when it's still 70 degrees here and 50 in New York. But every morning I wake up freezing. And at night, it's frigid. It's MUCH colder than it was in my West Village apartment. I'm walking around here in a fleece and flannel PJs. I know what you are thinking: "sexy."
My dad warned me about something called "June Gloom," which is apparently a weather pattern in Southern California where its cloudy and gloomy in June. Well, it seems to have started early. Plus, this is the most beautiful time of year in NYC. And I miss it.
Also: I had a shitty day at work.
And: Communting sucks.
P.S. We now have a garbage disposal and a dishwasher, which we keep forgetting about. Matt just asked me what could go into a disposal, then decided to just throw everything into the garbage instead. I have been washing all our dishes by hand. It's funny…Yesterday we were walking to our car after shopping at Whole Foods to drive the 2 blocks back to our house, and Matt said. "I'm already used to it here. I'm serious! I'm used to it and I like it." I'm not used to it at all. And I don’t think he is either. He'd had a gin and tonic when he said that.
My dad warned me about something called "June Gloom," which is apparently a weather pattern in Southern California where its cloudy and gloomy in June. Well, it seems to have started early. Plus, this is the most beautiful time of year in NYC. And I miss it.
Also: I had a shitty day at work.
And: Communting sucks.
P.S. We now have a garbage disposal and a dishwasher, which we keep forgetting about. Matt just asked me what could go into a disposal, then decided to just throw everything into the garbage instead. I have been washing all our dishes by hand. It's funny…Yesterday we were walking to our car after shopping at Whole Foods to drive the 2 blocks back to our house, and Matt said. "I'm already used to it here. I'm serious! I'm used to it and I like it." I'm not used to it at all. And I don’t think he is either. He'd had a gin and tonic when he said that.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Jungle Jim and Jane
Matt and I both think of ourselves as kind of nature people. We watch a lot of programs on the Discovery Channel, and Matt has a near-encyclopedic knowledge of animals, insects and undersea creatures. But of course as New Yorkers, we have not had much chance to encounter actual living things other than rats in the subway. During the last three days in the desert, however, we've had all too many run-ins with "nature," which all have wildly challenged our self-image as nature people.
Roaches seem to have chosen my father's home as their summer vacation destination. Matt and I have seen no fewer than six monster-sized roaches, and have had two epic, multi-phase, mulit-weapon battles with them, which include Off, Windex, several shoes and lots of primal screaming. In addition, we have been taking long lovely walks on the walking trail behind Dad's house. It offers beautiful views of the valley, a bit of exercise and, of course, more nature. We have seen roadrunners, quail, a bunny -- and we witnessed one bird of prey kill a mouse and fly off with it. We also spend much of the walk swatting at insects, cowering from bees and generally being fascinated by and frightened of every buzzing, flying, swooping thing that comes near us.
This morning, while we drank coffee outside, a humming bird came to drink the nectar of a plant that hangs directly next to the table where we were sitting. We were a foot away as it flapped its wings madly and used its little tail for balance. We could literally feel the wind from its wings. I've never been so close to a humming bird. The experience turned us back into nature people (though I was bitten by a bug while we sat there!)
Roaches seem to have chosen my father's home as their summer vacation destination. Matt and I have seen no fewer than six monster-sized roaches, and have had two epic, multi-phase, mulit-weapon battles with them, which include Off, Windex, several shoes and lots of primal screaming. In addition, we have been taking long lovely walks on the walking trail behind Dad's house. It offers beautiful views of the valley, a bit of exercise and, of course, more nature. We have seen roadrunners, quail, a bunny -- and we witnessed one bird of prey kill a mouse and fly off with it. We also spend much of the walk swatting at insects, cowering from bees and generally being fascinated by and frightened of every buzzing, flying, swooping thing that comes near us.
This morning, while we drank coffee outside, a humming bird came to drink the nectar of a plant that hangs directly next to the table where we were sitting. We were a foot away as it flapped its wings madly and used its little tail for balance. We could literally feel the wind from its wings. I've never been so close to a humming bird. The experience turned us back into nature people (though I was bitten by a bug while we sat there!)
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