NYC Bound

It's official. I am going back to New York. The primary function of the week-long trip is work. (We're hiring someone new.) The unofficial reason: Sanity check.

I just can't seem to get my balance in L.A. Maybe a week in New York will help me find my center. I don't know how I'll fit all the actual work in since I've already made appointments with my hairdresser, my doctor, my shrink and my old boss. I can't wait!

A Woman on the Verge

I am on the verge. The verge of what I am not sure. It could be a nervous breakdown. It could be a beautiful breakthrough. This move has hit me hard. Everything is more lonely and tense and trying and financially stressful than I imagined. A ray of light came last week when I got an offer on my NYC apt. -- a good one. And just when we were thisclose to at least shaking on the deal, the buyer backed out. And the jitter of happiness I'd been feeling suddenly snapped. And now I am ready to quit my job, move to the beach, sell my car, stop washing my hair and turn into a professional beach bum. Ok, so it's not that likely I'll do all – or any – of that. But then again, maybe ....

I will say that through this, Matt has been very nice and understanding. Even though he does not like random, destination unknown adventures, he came with me on a drive to Santa Monica yesterday. He did not protest when I told him I wanted to find where Sunset Boulevard meets the ocean. And he didn't complain when we hit lots of traffic on the Pacifc Coast Highway, or when I turned onto Topanga Canyon and couldn't turn around. He looked at our very incomplete map and navigated the way home. For me, driving just to explore, to see beautiful new things and risk getting lost is the kind of remedy I needed. Thanks, Matt, for coming along for the ride.

The Beach, Part 2 and My Fabulous Girlfriends

Today I was feeling like I might suffocate at work. I have no window. I never get up. It’s unnatural. At the end of the day I started my commute home, and then at a stoplight I just decided to turn right and head for the ocean. I called Matt to see if he wanted to come – he did – so I picked him up and off we went. I imagined the wind in my hair, the open road, the ocean in front of us. But apparently the beach isn’t as close as I thought. And there was more traffic than I expected. And each time I thought we were almost there, we weren’t.

But we made it. There were homeless people, as there always are, at the beach. We had to walk farther than I remembered. And it cost 50 cents for a ½ hour of parking. But we walked over the Pacific Coast Highway and looked down the endless coast and I put my feet in the water. We were only there about 5 minutes, but it was worth it.

AND
My girlfriends are amazing. I am here in L.A. doing the best I can. It’s not easy. I’m not quite sure why it’s so difficult, but times have been a little rough. Work is lonely. Commuting sucks. I often feel like I can’t quite get enough air. But my friends reach out to me -- on the phone, in email, in notes, in thoughts and energy. It is amazing to me how much more strongly I feel their support here than I did in NYC. Just being on the same time zone helps. Thank you, my ladies. Love you.

Feeling California

Sometimes California feels so much like home it’s crazy. The sun on my face; the heat bouncing off the pavement; the smell of eucalyptus; the sidewalks on residential streets, narrow and buckled like the ones of my childhood; the warm, dry breeze. There are so many subtle sensory triggers that bring me back to my past, it’s sometimes overwhelming.

I lived in New York for 13 years and after a while I became highly sensitized the memories attached to physical places in the city. Certain corners, bars, parks, landmarks all elicited specific memories of my 20s and early 30s. Here in L.A., places don’t mean anything to me – half the time I am a few blocks from being totally lost – but the feeling of this state, of the topography, the weather, the land is familiar and often comforting. It’s odd to feel both so lost and so at home all at once.

Beach Bound

I've been living in L.A. for nearly 7 weeks and have yet to go to the beach. Even though I have lived here before, the New Yorker in me imagined life in L.A. would include lots of riding my bike by the beach, playing in the sand, watching the sunset over the Pacific. It's not that, at least not now. (I still feel like it could be if I lived in a different neighborhood.) But real life gets in the way. Even here I have to do things like work, shop for groceries, sit in traffic, do laundry and pick up dry cleaning. Still, I'd like to go to the beach.

"Oh, Good God!"

So on my 10-minute lunch break I decided to walk around the block -- literally, out the building and around the parking lot. That's my big outing. Anyway, I see a guy sitting on the sidewalk eating coleslaw out of a plastic container. At first I thought -- because there is nowhere to sit outside -- that he's just a biz dude enjoying the sun, but on closer inspection I see he's homeless. When I get almost to him he yells: "Oh, Good God!" to which I say, "What?" He answers: "You are beautiful!" I laugh and continue walking. Then he adds: "Not only are you beautiful...I just wish I was your man!"

So here's my confession: I love a good catcall. Obviously, I have a self-esteem problem, but a "hey baby, you look good" always makes me smile. In New York, men are constantly yelling at women. I got used to at least weekly affirmation from strangers. So this made me feel right at home.

L.A. Style

I did something I bet a lot of native Angelinos have never done -- I took the Los Angeles City subway. Yeah, baby. That's 'cause I'm an NYC girl.

The funny part, of course, is that I had to drive to the subway.