Saturday, March 27, 2010

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.

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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.

3 comments:

  1. Kilah -

    What you've written is beautiful! I wish you all the best in adjusting and I can totally relate to how you're feeling. It's much harder to build a life at 31 than it is at 18 (or even 22 as I did when I moved to NYC).

    Keep your head up, remember to enjoy the ride and know that you'll eventually find "your space & place" in LA. Good luck with the settling in...oh and I LOVE the valet story. HILARIOUS! Keep living it up girl! :)

    ga

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  2. Kilah it's Patrick! You have a lovely way with words (and thoughts, and thinking). Looking forward to seeing you and the Underburnetts and the rugrats on Friday!!!

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  3. Thanks G! I'm determined get this niche carved. :)

    Hi Patrick! That means a lot, thank you :). See you Friday, woot!

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