The City of Angels has opened its (his, her?) arms to me. I was an expatriate. Fed up with the eternally sunny, warm weather, with too much lack of any variation of rain, or trees turning color or snow, I was so ready to leave. I wanted to flee the "shoulds" of my father, the darkness that haunted my soul like a ghost, the city I felt was stale under my feet. I wanted adventure and a change of weather, pristine air, and a mountain soaring in the distance, its peak always covered with snow, a promise that would be fulfilled in later years.
A change is what I got. I met some incredible people and learned many a thing. I fell in love with journalism---something I never knew would happen. I learned how to manage websites, track google analytics, learned where a Lisianthus flower grew, and the difference between Asiatic and Oriental lilies. I learned how to make decent cups of coffee, how to risk life and safety in the haunts of an abandoned factory. I fell head over heels for someone who subsequently broke my heart; I spent far too much time missing this person, convinced I would see him in Portland (I never did thankfully). I spend too much time speaking of this person. He came, he conquered and he's gone. He'll stay in my memories but I pray that he'll leave my heart (almost 100% gone and leaving more steadily every day).
I met God in the form of the angel I met in my freshman year. I still talk to her and think of my best friend every day. I watched Grace Jones and had countless jokes with Meagan and Lora. I saw Seattle with Jess.
And yet.....
I find that I tried things, I got out there, I did craigslist and internship meet-ups and tennis and knitting circles, and yet, the world stayed closed. My world was a Monday-Thursday routine of work, television and dinner with Meagan and weekend errands by my lonesome. I spent so many hours and days doing things by myself and occasionally with Emily. Life was so small and lonely and fixed.
And then I was laid off and I came back home. My home. My home, how I've missed it. I've missed those San Gabriel mountains that are stained purple with the dipping of the sunset sun. I've missed La Crescenta and La Cabanita and El Cholo and Venice Beach. I've missed Zuma and Amelia and April and Jessica S. I've missed Mom and Dad and my darling Phoebe and Aussie Pup and Willie. I've missed Griffith Park, and the Greek Theater and the pine trees and eucalyptus trees. I've missed the Sun and the promise of sunlight on any given day. I've missed that marine layer.
Los Angeles has opened its arms to me and I got kisses and tea parties and new friends and old friends and excitement and front covers of the Pasadena Weekly and work with Los Angeles Magazine and knowledge of this great city's gastronomic culture and culture of things yet to come.
I have come home. I am no longer an expatriate. And while I might sit in traffic cursing the millions of cars in traffic with me, and cursing the indian summer temperatures peaking above 100 degrees, I will remain forever in love of the hustle and bustle, of what Los Angeles is and what it has to offer. I will be grateful for the opportunities it has afforded me, the culture that can be found from Muscle Beach to the haunts of old orange grove ranches of San Bernadino, the museums in the Miracle Mile, the haute couture of Beverly Hills and the old history that lies in the Pasadena area.
I am an Angeleno, and I am SO GLAD to be home!
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