Saturday, August 27, 2011

Home Is Where Your Mang Is

About 6 years ago I lived in L.A. (Santa Monica to be specific, Colby and Wilshire to be anal)  and I really didn't like it. More like hated it. More like darkest time of my life status.

Don't get me wrong there were definite Ups, like my friends from school and musical theater, but I never really got close enough to anyone to have a "best" friend or support system while I was living in a place of constant judgment and failure. Not to mention I didn't have stellar confidence going into this mess (a proverbial no no, see if you didn't grow up in LA don't move to LA unless A. you have a support system of friends, B. a good setup you can call home and feel safe from bedbugs and rapists, or C. you were brought there for work. Otherwise, don't act all surprised when the pet monkey of that homeless guy on Santa Monica Blvd is throwing his LA monkey caca all over your life. It just wasn't a copacetic setup (see what I did there? It was like rhyming, but not quite....moving on) so I said "peace out" and moved back to Sac (Sacramento if you're nasty) to a very happy high five filled life.

Skip to 4 years later when my best friend/ roommate/ lifesource decides she's gonna up and move to LA leaving me to follow in her intern footsteps and pout relentlessly at her decision. Well, long story short, her experience of LA was in direct opposition to mine, and I say it's because she followed the above steps. She had a lot of friends that lived in LA she knew from college, she found what is probably the best kept secret apartment for winners and is currently being better than you in it, AND she has successfully integrated herself into an amazing theatre company that does exactly the kind of work she loves. What the what?!?!?

Skip to the last couple times I've visited her here. It's not...the unhappiest place in the world anymore. I keep trying to figure out what changed...did LA get a makeover? why are people more smiley than I remember? and then I's because my Mang is here. It's because I don't give homeless man's monkey's flying crap whether people are judging me because I'm old enough to know who I am now and relish in the fact that life is in fact what I make of it. I always thought that was crazy talk growing up. Life is what you make of it? Infinite eye roll ensues. But it's true. Those crabby stick up their ass adults knew what they were talking about ( and that's us now! We are the crabby stick up our ass adults!)

Isn't that great? Everything else I wanted to say sounds so School House Rock so I'm gonna put the kabash on that and go for a jog (pronounced yog when you want to pretend you speak spanish) and discover things, maybe almost get hit by a car, and vision quest the bejeezus out of this day.


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