I’ve arrived in LA.
No drumrolls, and certainly no red carpet rolling. In fact, it was quite the opposite.
Since my last entry, and what I intended to be an idyllic beginning to my next chapter, several surprises happened. You might even call them misadventures.
I had left my old apartment with a heavy heart. A soft romanticized view of it and my life there took hold. Later on, that gooey feeling disappeared quickly as the building manager told me about fixes they'd want to attend to, a.k.a, some deposit money will be taken out. "Well forget that then, and get me outta here fast". Days after that, my van got broken into. The whole back windshield was shattered into pieces. To this day I am still finding broken glass all around. Frozen, it took me a day or so to actually get upset over this. And more days to realize just how much the thieves have taken. But still, I didn't take it as a sign not to go, instead I hurried my remaining packing even more. A mean cold and cough followed. By this I mean the drowning in your own snot kind. By the time I was ready to drive off to my perfect and much-deserved relaxing drive to Sunny SoCal, pouring rain took over. So instead of poetically sipping wine in the vineyards of Santa Barbara, I was running, ducking into boutiques for cover, juggling blowing my nose and holding on to an umbrella. Again, I refused for anyone or anything to literally rain on my parade. So I found things to enjoy even in the rain. This to a lot of people means shopping and eating and that's exactly what I did. Lots of eating and a little shopping. Days upon arriving in LA, a numb-and-cramping kind of injury took over my left leg, followed by a bumper to bumper tap in the parking lot after Christmas. It was at this point that I started to mentally say, "Just give it to me already. All of it. So that I can finally start to have fun now."
I write about this adventure with still quite a bit of sense of humor in check. Because while a barrage of bad luck seemed to have happened all at once, I was carried by true friends who made sure I was driven to safety...who provided a roof over my head along with a warm and soothing meal....who gave me gentle words that lifted me. They were my angels in the form of a Scarlet Rose and one Very Knowledgeable Contender. To them, I am deeply grateful. Thank you for ensuring that this journey continued. Without them and all of my friends and family, I would have just sat in a corner, tired. To the Ghetto Geisha, Cuzins and the Brunch Girls in NYC, to the newly-found, lifelong "Friends-la" in HK, SF and LA chapters, thank you for the belief. Thank you for supporting my dream.
I realize that it was not my spirit that was stolen, not my dreams that were smashed. My belief system was not dampened by the rain. Determined to look ahead and not behind, in my less than perfect transition, I found something unexpected. What I'm made of.
Sitting in a very cold yet charming apartment, everything’s quite in disarray around me. Boxes half falling and half full. Everything quite a mess. And there's no other place I'd rather be. No other state of mind.
It’s the road of my choosing and maneuvering. This is where I will hang my soggy coat for now and where I will park my shiny, old van––in a locked garage.
