Here.

The valet parking man at Cafe Sushi has it in for me.

I was floating on air after my first LA shopping experience at H&M. The store was half the size of a football field. I had a giftcard. I'd collected enough clothes to go over my giftcard limit by $15, only to get to the register and find that one of my items was $15 off.

I cried. And then I drove to Cafe Sushi.

I passed Mr. Valet and parked. Sure the sign said no parking after 6:00 and it was 6:07, but I had been kissed by the H&M Fairy. Nothing could touch me.

Mr. Valet glared at me as I walked past him and into the restaurant. I ordered my spicy salmon roll to go, took a seat at the door and glared back. In the middle of our glaring match he took his phone out, dialed, smiled and looked away.

I knew, in that instant, that he'd called the parking police.

The little white hybrid drove away from ticketing my car exactly 2 seconds before I exited the restaurant. As I walked past Mr. Valet, he smirked. I stopped turned my head slowly towards him, squinted my eyes into crescent moons, lifted my hand, curled my fingers and silently gave him my best Color Purple Ceely to Mister "Till you do right by me, everythang you THINK about, gonna crumble!" curse.

The smirk vanished.

Victory.

Complete with a $55 ticket as a trophy.

               --------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunday March 28 marks my 30th day as a California resident. I've decided that on that day I will take myself to the beach to reflect, recharge and refocus.

Tonight, I write.

For the past 28 days I have been on a rollercoaster. But the track is invisible. My seatbelt is fastened, but it's not secure. My senses are functioning at peak levels, but brain is too stunned to process it all.

Keep your seatbelt securely fastened.

There are times when the energy in the air around me is invigorating. It is so palpable that it has a pulse. And there are times when it is filled with such uncertainty and doubt that it causes me to catch my breath.

I am grateful for this opportunity, this job, the willingness of my friend to open her home to me, the people I'm meeting...

I am discouraged that I don't know when I'm going to find a place of my own, that I still don't feel settled, that I still get lost, that making friends is not easy, that the business of building a life at 31 is a lot more complicated than it was when I did it in college at the age of 18.

Your arms and legs must remain inside the vehicle while the train is in motion.

Think has become my constant companion.

I pray. I think. I work. I think. I dance. I think. I walk. I think. I people watch. I think. I meet people. I think. I smile. I think. I cry. I think.

And last weekend, Think thought of a question:

"Why does your 'There' keep shifting?"

For 23 years my 'There' was LA. In recent years, 'There' expanded to include a job I liked in an office where I could where jeans everyday, and a chance to start over in the one place I'd always wanted to live but had never even visited.

And all of a sudden, I was Here.

Now, I want my own place. I want friends that know me as well as the ones I already have. I want to know my way around without getting lost. I want ease and effortlessness. I want to know where to go and what to do and who to call. I want a we to spend time with.

I want to be There.

Hold on tight.

The thing about There, I'm learning, is that it is always just out of reach.

The thing about Here, I'm learning, is that it is always available.

Here is LA. Here is a job in an office where I wear jeans everyday. Here is the person who offered me a place to live and goes out of her way to make sure I am comfortable. Here are the people I've met who are welcoming me into their lives and assuring me that they too felt like this once.

In time Here will be all the things I miss about home and the life I left because when Here shifts, it takes you along.  

So, since I'll be Here for awhile, I figure I might as well enjoy the view.

Because sometimes time does more than just pass. Sometimes it builds character.
Sometimes you lose your way.
Sometimes you don't.
Sometimes you laugh.
Sometimes you cry.

And sometimes you pay $63 for an $8 roll of raw fish.

Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for. - Epicurus


Enjoy the ride.

Pieces.

The Prep.

"Mom, do you need this green bag in the car or can I put it in the trunk?"
"Will it fit?"
"Yeah. I fit everything I'm bringing in four bags. Two are in the trunk, two in the back seat."
"Well, yes then, put it in."

Fast forward 10 minutes.

"Mom, do you want the mini dvd player?"
"No. I have my book and my Nintendo. But they're in the green bag."
"The one in the trunk?"
"Yes."
"Do you want me to pull over."
"No. It's fine... I just thought I'd finish the book I'm reading."
"I can pull over."
"No."

Fast Forward 30 seconds.

"And I thought I might play my Nintendo a little."
"I'm pulling over."
"Well, okay. If that's what you want to do. I have some fruit snacks back there for you too."

I love that woman.


The Drive.

Memphis-Arkansas-Oklahoma-New Mexico-Arizona-California. $135 in gas.

We made it in 2.25 days.

This country is breathtaking, and driving across it was one of the best things I have ever experienced.

And the one thing I never want to do again.

Ever.


The City.

I felt at home as soon as I got here.

The weather is perfection. I live in the middle of everything wonderful. I've taken walks through The Grove, explored the park across the street that looks out to the Hollywood Hills. I can walk to Ralph's, Whole Foods and Trader Joes. Nearly every road leads to the beach.

I've seen my first facelift, a little old lady with curly blue hair and Robert DeNiro.

I'm close to one of the best dance studios in the country and will begin classes there next week.

Next Sunday I will walk down the street to the Kodak Theater and wait with all the other gawkers to get iPhone pics of the celebrities walking the red carpet at the Oscars.
I've found my Target store.

I am in love with LA.


Work.

My first day of work was good. The drive was scenic. The traffic decent. I didn't get lost. I made it on time. The work was interesting and challenging.

And then The Man arrived.

The Man was pleasant enough, but he didn't say hello, introduce himself or interact with me. I shrugged it off and stuck my tongue out at him behind his back for good measure.

It was liberating.

An hour later I took my newly liberated self to the restroom and in the middle of trying out different poses in the mirror, I glanced to my right and saw the urinals.

After thinking for a split second that they were actually excessively tall bedets, then wondering out loud why in the world there were urinals in the ladies' restroom, my senses returned. I hung my head in shame, whispered a pathetic, "oh.", trudged back to our suite and went directly to the office of The Man.

I streteched my lips into a smile and said, "Hi, I'm Kilah. I don't think we've met.". To which he replied, "It's nice to meet you! How is your day going?", rose from his desk and extended his left hand for me to shake.

I extended my right hand. He dropped his left hand, swung his right arm back and forth and stuck his left hand out again.

I turned and walked away.


Me.

I'm suspended.

In 2.5 weeks I accepted a new job that I hadn't even applied for, packed my life into four bags, said goodbye to everything familiar, drove across the country to a place I've never been and began anew.

This dichotomy of crippling sadness and overwhelming jubilation has thrown me for a loop.

I can only liken it to the excitement of getting a new 1000 piece puzzle that you've had your eye on for a long time, opening the box and dumping all the pieces onto the floor only to realize that a puzzle requires assembly.

You stand there stunned for awhile before you accept the fact that while what you wanted may look a little scattered, all the necessary pieces have been provided.

Your job is to figure out how they fit.

So you take a deep breath, grin, roll up your sleeves, kneel on the floor and start lining up the pieces.

                                         ---------------------------

Let the fun begin.