Enjoy This Blog

If someone had articulated these things to me about L.A. when I arrived from NY, adjusting would've been a whole lot easier. That's what I thought when I started this blog.
So, scroll to any topic to understand why you just had a meltdown, be able to articulate the process of dating to your friends back home, or commiserate about anything - since you'll notice people here don't commiserate, which is one of the best ways we east coasters know to feel connected.
ps. I'll be adding to it, but I'll keep this entry on top.
pps. Clearly, adding to it = still not adjusted.

Hands Free

Yesterday. A man driving with one hand on his cell phone and the other holding a banana. No hands even close to the wheel. This is not the idea behind the "Hands Free" law that went into effect last year, fyi.

Tool Example

It was 10pm Friday night and there was a guy in a convertible driving with his blinding brights on because he was wearing sunglasses.

Dating

I thought the only car related adjustment I'd have to make in LA would be getting used to traffic. Then I found out how much cars effect dating. First off: Getting Asked Out. In NY a man vaguely says "we should hang out" making it easy to play by ear and figure out afterwards whether it was a date. In LA a man asks concretely "I'd like to take you out". He has to. There are arrangements like: will he pick you up or will you both drive and meet there? (To a city girl it is the strangest decision whether to give a virtual stranger her address and get in the car with him -- or meet there with her car, making the date as unsexy as a business meeting.) Second, there's The Date. In NY a date is As-You-Go. If you want to spend more time together just walk next door to another bar, a corner diner, or just take a walk. In LA any movement after location 1 requires directions and parking. If you took two cars, that time driving solo with your cell phone and your thoughts is as sobering as Last Call. On the other hand, if he drove and you decide to take advantage of the fact that you're not driving and can drink, don't guzzle enough for the both of you. Otherwise, the next morning you'll realize how awkward that was - for him. Lastly, there's The Goodnight Kiss. In NY drinks have been drunk so everyone looks better and a kiss is likely for fun if nothing else. It can happen at the cab, in the cab, at your building front door, in the vestibule, at your apartment door, or inside your apartment. That's five levels of spontaneity. In LA there are seatbelts. There's the middle divider. And guaranteed there will be a mention of high school. Not to mention that it's very awkwardly up to the passenger to turn towards, or get out. If you've (unfortunately) discussed and decided that he come up to your place, there's parking spots, signs, and permits to deal with. So please note: If you decide to go upstairs and you live on a block that does require a city permit to park and you have to get the tag from your apartment to display in his windshield you must get it back before he leaves. Even if it means running down after him after an already awkward goodbye. Because when it comes to cars and dating in LA, it's the permit tag that you'll realize you have to see again.

Culture Shock via Party Hopping

When it comes to socializing I've had two location vows in my life. In NY I promised myself that I would never not go out because of the weather. In LA I promised myself I would never not go out because of driving. Recently I had a socializing challenge: one birthday party in Santa Monica, another in Koreatown. I kept my promise despite the distance. But in the car during the long drive to location #2 I had the strangest experience. It was uncomfortable. It was quiet. It was like the night was strangely put on pause. Then I realized: I was by myself. See, in New York once we leave our apartments we are never alone. In between parties there's a party. People are on the street, on the bus, talking in groups on the subway, and even cab drivers make conversation. In New York, our spaces are small so our living rooms are the bars, our kitchens are the restaurants, the parks our backyards. We respectfully share space almost all of the time. In LA, there's a tremendous amount of time spent alone in the car and in this case, not only was I by myself, but since I was driving I was completely sober. For a New Yorker also used to having an occasional cocktail during a night out, this car time very likely made me my very own buzz kill.

Errands

If you are used to getting at least three things done in one block on the way from the subway to your apartment you can understand that one of the most intimidating things for a New Yorker in LA, is running errands. First of all, there is no running. More stand-still traffic to stand still on line. Second, it is helpful to know that the math in getting places is [Mapquest Est. Time x 3]. Third: things were taking so long at the post office the other morning I was the cliche angry New Yorker attempting to commiserate with other people. "Unacceptable!" "Can you believe this?!" That was me. And only me. In New York someone wasting everyone's time by filling out their forms at the window would be an injustice. Even the postal workers have the customer step aside to do their business lest there be an uprising mob of people who all agree they've got things to do. Hoping people would join in my mission, I found the manager (the guy giving out packages behind a barn door who was the only one to complain to and probably not the manager). I explained that people were taping up their boxes at the window, that this wasn't Mailboxes Etcetera, and meanwhile there's a line out the door. He said slowly, "It's been this way for 15 years." I said, "That doesn't make it right." He shrugged. I left, defeated and frustrated, still with my package in my hand. Who knew that Lack Of Commiseration could lend to isolation? In commiserating we feel heard. We back each other up and work together to make a change. I'd heard there was a 'mellow' stereotype in LA but it doesn't feel relaxed and carefree it feels frustratingly slow and disconnected. Is it cowardly? Emotionally burnt out? Too hot? A couple of days later while impatiently tapping my foot waiting on a supermarket line I heard the woman behind me grumbling about the slow service. I said, "You're from New York, aren't you." She said yes. We commiserated, laughed, and for the first time in history, two New Yorkers running errands in LA mellowed out.

Why NYers Don't Get The Car Status Thing Right Away

In New York, our coats are our cars and our bags are our trunks.

SPD: Success Perspective Distortion

When it comes to success and accomplishment in LA the finish line can keep moving ahead (feels like zig zag) and the starting point can disappear leaving a hard working person wondering if anything's been accomplished at all. When I first got to LA, I remember someone who was very successful complaining and unhappy and I thought "I wish I had your problems." Years later, yesterday, someone said that to me, and I was shocked. Had I accomplished things worthy of that statement? Here are 3 reasons why I think it's easy to lose perspective in LA (and hopefully help you not lose yours)... 1. No clear change of seasons to help mark the time and remind you what you've accomplished (even if the progress is incremental). 2. A saturation of people doing the same thing can become a sea of comparison (as opposed to being around so many other careers and cultures in NYC which inherently lets us know we're unique). 3. Agenda-Questions like these in casual conversation: "What are you working on?" "Have you done/been in/anything I'd know?" (a sneaky one which suddenly makes you evaluate how famous your work is.) "Have you been produced?" (!)
Here are some easier-said-than-done ways to ward off the maL.A.ise: Keep from getting in the habit of only comparing "up" to other people as opposed to what you've accomplished personally. Use it to fuel your ambition and get you focused on doing the work rather than being a barometer of what you haven't got. Don't accept it trumping the excitement of why you came to LA in the first place. Book a quick trip to NY and ride the subway for some grounding (or under-grounding in this case, even better.), or call a supportive friend on the east coast to give you some healthy perspective about not only how far you've gone but how far you've come.

Heat Lamps

L.A. might not have any coat checks but it's big on heat lamps. In fact, at one party I was at the valet stand and a drunk girl said, "Um, I'm not sure if you want to know but... your coat is melting." She was right. The heat from a low-standing heater was in the process of bubbling through the elbow of my jacket. It's also frequent at a party that I'll be in conversation with someone under a tall heat lamp and they'll say "Do you mind if we move? The top of my head is burning."

How Bars Close

Imagine: You're in a dark bar and catch eyes with someone hot across the room. A smile. People are lost on the dance floor and leaning in to talk because the music is pumping. Your drink tastes good. The night is sexy. Who knows what time it is. Suddenly, florescent lights go on and you're in a gym. Rather than turning back off, perhaps as a Last Call warning, they blare with no apology. Security guards yell "Let's GO," and like interrogating cops, shine flashlights directly onto your criminalized drink to get you to guzzle it, or put it down and get the f* out of there. No time to wrap anything up, wind down, or make a next plan. You're herded out in a large group and next thing you know you're on the street. What happened? Did the fire marshall close it down for being over capacity? Did they get busted for serving minors? At a bar in New York one time, I was in the bathroom and returned to an empty room because the girl dancing on the bar had grabbed hold of a sprinkler and set the system off. Maybe that's what happened? No. In LA, this is how bars close. On the east coast it's Last Call, on the west it's A Wake Up Call. And the entire process from Party to Pavement takes about 4 minutes. The first time I experienced this was at the House of Blues. I ran back in because I was so shocked, I was convinced people were still inside and I'd imagined the whole thing. The same room that was full of party life just minutes before was already getting vacuumed by staff. The other shock to a New Yorker's system: we're not talking 5 am. The other night this went down at a just-getting-started 12:30.

Energy

Last night a friend considering moving to NY asked what the biggest difference is between NY and L.A. Besides not being able to have a drink while we discussed this because I was driving, I told her about my biggest basic struggle which has also been my biggest basic growth spurt. In NY the energy is reciprocal. There's stimulation everywhere: in the architecture, the close proximity to other people, the sound of the subway, the smell of those roasted nut carts. It goes out, it comes in. In L.A. on the other hand, I feel like I wake up with a certain tank of energy, and during the day I either make the effort to fill it up or use it until it's depleted. It's certainly made me selective about how I spend my time and who with, but it also explains why people don't seem to have extra energy for spontaneity or to help each other out so much. For me, career-wise it's more exciting in L.A., life-wise, it's more exciting in NY.

Radio II

93.5, people. 93.5.

Rain Today

Doesn't life feel normal again?

How to Survive Douchebag Parties

They're big, they're beautiful, and they're soulless. Here's how to tell if you're at one: 1) The house is great. 2) The view is grand. 3) The people are pretty. 4) It's packed. 5) Everyone seems to know everyone else and for some reason that you can't put your finger on, your self-esteem is in the toilet. The vexing problem is, somehow they're great to be at because it seems this is THE place to be. So, here's how to get the most out of them:
1. The amount of people is proportional to the douchbaggery. Don't be insulted if some of the nicest people you enjoyed meeting at a smaller party hug and run or can't hold a conversation.
2. Know who to bring. These parties are for A-list wingmen, meaning a friend who is not only good to hang with but can take care of themselves, meeting people on your behalf as well.
3. If your friend is talking to someone they're interested in or if you've gone by yourself and you're feeling lurky you might not know where to go without feeling like a loser. So, take a very slow tour of the house, or cozy up to the bar (even if you're not drinking) where people tend to be talkative.
4. Know that there are usually one or two gems who are grounded and easy to hang with. Usually a married couple or the neighbors from downstairs.
5. Don't expect to find a relationship or have any real, connected conversations with any single people of the opposite sex. These are not those parties. People are interested in moving around, being seen, the newest person walking in the door, and not being attentive (unless of course you might go home with them.)
6. Don't stay too long. Later, after a couple of rounds, if you're not feeling the love, know that staying longer does not make it better. It's tempting to stay because you'll feel if you go you might hear that a celebrity you've had a crush on will have shown up or everyone got in the hot tub "right after you left!" or even more so, you hope you'll be able to recover that part of yourself that you lost during the evening. Quit while you're ahead and somehow you'll remember having a really good time.

Squatters

Squatters in New York hang out in abandoned buildings. Squatters in LA hang out in abandoned garages. I know this because in my first apartment in L.A. I had a garage. It was in an unlit alley so for the most part I parked on the street and just kept flattened moving boxes in there. The week before I was ready to move to a cheaper apartment nearby (remember I forgot about the "buying a car" thing?) and went to get the boxes, I lifted the garage door revealing two men. One was blocking the light with his hand, the other was sleeping. It went from that feeling of disgusted surprise when you find a bug in your cabinet to embarrassed shock like I was a chambermaid who missed the do-not-disturb sign. That's why, even though it was my garage, I said "ooh sorry" and quickly put the door back down. The next day I had my friend come with me. This time I knocked and then winced while I lifted the door. You know what? They were kind of cute. The strapping dark haired one said "no problem" when I said like a cool babysitter "Hey you guys. I'm moving and I don't care but I don't want them to call the cops on you, so could you be out by Friday?" When I returned Friday they were gone like good tenants. Except they left behind a beer cap, a cigarette butt, and, unlike NY squatters who eat bagels from 6th street, an L.A. style empty container of organic yogurt.

Honking

Okay. I want to be calm about this so I will make it into a list.
1. Why the f* don't people honk here?
2. It is the very place where honking is needed.
3. The car horn has been a feature of the car since their invention and in fact went "achooga!".
4. Now they are less annoying, especially the way I honk with the length of "toot."
5. Often, LA drivers don't signal, text while driving, go retardedly slow,
6. and take a long and maddening beat before going when the light has turned green.
7. The beat is not necessary if you are paying attention and want to go like I do.
8. How is it possible that if someone pulls a dumb move and I respond with a honk they get mad?
9. Road rage is not good so I tried programming all my preset stations with lite music.
10. After I felt like I was in the supermarket all the time I went back to hip-hop.
11. In New York we honk but don't hold in hostility. In LA, the opposite occurs.
12. I'm thinking this is true, not only in our cars.

To Do

Some groovy things to try in L.A. at least once: The Annenberg Photography Center (don't miss the iphone-like tables up front), Downtown Art Walk, Silent Movie Theater (get on their email list), Venice Art Walk, Natural History Museum's First Fridays (summer), Lacma's Art All Night (once a year, line goes around the block - be prepared), Movie at the Hollywood Cemetery, New Beverly Midnights. Some of these you only need to do once and you'll be over it, but they all have cozy elements of NY style, like lots of people around, or environments with character. As for the Annenberg, it's classy, free, parking is easy, and it's the kind of thing where I'd say, "This is the kind of thing we'd only have in New York".
ps. This blog keeps fun updated suggestions: http://smarterthanyourfriends.tumblr.com

Parking

Apparently, the CA government thinks it can solve the economic crisis by giving out parking tickets. So. Do this when you park: 1. Check that the sign in front of you doesn't have any more signs above it - or little ones below it - that also apply to your spot and be hidden by a tree. 2. If there's no sign in front of your spot, although it makes no sense, check the sign in back of you, even if it's 1/2 way up the block. 3. Park within the white lines. (A friend just got that ticket so, yep, it matters.) 4. Facing up hill, turn your wheels away from the curb (steering wheel to the left), facing down hill, the opposite. 5. Set your alarm minutes before your meter runs out so you can go put more dough in. It interrupts the flow of conversation and of life but if you rely on fate or "what are the chances the DOT will come by right now?" parking enforcement will telepathically get the signal, time travel, and a ticket will be waiting on your windshield.

Conversation

There is a point in every NYer to LAer's life when you'll thirst for conversation about anything but the entertainment industry. You'll know this time has come when you go on a date with someone who works in the furniture business and ask like I did, "So, which chair style sells best? ... No. I'm serious. I want numbers! Anything! ...The A327? More! More!" As I've been seeking out conversations about anything but entertainment to keep life interesting I've noticed that the ones who interrupt themselves with: "but you don't care about this, this is boring" work in economics or education or art. Funny, I've never heard anyone consider it might be boring to hear about their spec script or how many 'irons' they've got in the 'fire'. At first this full immersion into entertainment is necessary since most of us come to LA because it's in industry town. We need to learn the Hollywood language and understand by osmosis the business side of the creative. But I wonder whether too much of it takes over and keeps the creativity from being fresh - whether the whole group of us eventually have one homogeneous experience. In LA, as my friend said, it's "low grade networking 24-7". If you're not talking about the industry over your meal, you're likely hearing about from the table on your left or right. Meanwhile, in NY, fresh life experience seems to constantly replenish. Like on my last trip, I sat on the Great Lawn eating a cup of chilled pea soup that I got from the Shakespeare-in-the-park cafe, thinking about how there are certain emotions I don't even feel in L.A since such a thick skin is required. It was perfectly nostalgic as a bagpiper nearby bellowed a whistful song, Brazilian soccer players tossed a ball, and one said to his friends, "Man, that tune is getting annoying."

I think because there are no seasons here people don't know time is passing and think they don't have to grow up.

Very L.A. moments this week

1) Rainstorm: 1 thunder. 1 lightning. 1 minute downpour. Over.
2) Jury duty: photos on the walls of celebrities who have done jury duty.
3) Halloween party Who's-On-First: "It's Ashton and Demi." "How do you dress like Ashton and Demi?" "No, it's Ashton and Demi." "I know it's Ashton and Demi but who's dressed like Ashton and Demi?" "Ashton and Demi." and so on.

Merging

If you want to simply understand the difference between NY and LA: merge. That means two lanes of cars need to get into one lane.
In NY: You go. Then I go. Then he goes. Then she goes. Like a fine tuned zipper. We take turns with the bigger picture in mind. It's intelligent, efficient, and can make you gush about humanity at work.
In LA: You go. Then you also go... now YOU also want to go?! No, I go next because it's my turn if we ever want to get out of here. But I see, you're going anyway, jackass.

The Magic Bus

The 704 to the beach is all I'm saying. Clean, speedy, environmental and New Yorky, I was able to read a book read a book instead of sit in traffic, it dropped me a block from the beach, and when I got to the sand, a bee landed on the yellow strip of my bag and tried to pollinate it. Then it layed on top exhausted, legs on each side like a binder clip, and took a rest. And yes I did watch this whole thing. The bus runs up and down SMB, last one going east is 7pm, after that the 4 runs local. $1.25 each way, but I hear there's a day pass you can pick up. Why is the bus so looked down upon here?

Parking Floors

In many LA buildings parking floors are assigned the same numbers as regular floors so note that the difference is the "P" for Parking. For example, "P5" is the 5th floor in the parking category, not to be confused with "5", the regular floor. Believe it or not, this messed me up several times. Now, if you forget where you park -- which is likely, considering you probably didn't have a car on your mind in NYC and aren't in the habit yet -- record it into the memo function of your phone or write it on the validation ticket. If you street park at home - which means it changes every day so who can remember there either - print a local street map from Google Maps and keep it on your fridge with a magnet as your car. Yes, I also have to do that, and I've only misplaced my car twice.

Car Honks and Comments

In New York City a car honk is an accepted reaction to a road-rage infraction. In LA a honk is seen as an infraction in itself. It's as crazymaking-backwards as when you come into contact with a skanky snob here and you're sure someone that gross should at least be nice. For example, once a motorcycle cut me off without signaling and with astounding risk to his life. I honked. Then he flipped me off. Huh? See, I had recently decided that if someone cuts me off without signaling, giving a quick honk would lower my stress level and break the road-rage chain. No go. Weeks later another cutter-offer provoked my honk - which provoked his putting his car in park, getting out, coming over, and cursing. Huh? New Yorkers don't have time for this! He also happened to be a teen actor in the 70s now grown up. So I kept saying "just use your signal" while he kept yelling. At what seemed like the end of his rant I asked sincerely, genuinely, a little amused, "Really? Did you just call me a 'scumbag'?" (The other curses could have been true - he doesn't know me - but I think we both knew 'scumbag' was off.) He said, "Yes, I did," got back in his car, and I will say, used his signal. Later I posted an essay about the whole thing. Oops. Apparently he Google Alerts which let him know he'd been written about, which is how he ended up writing a really mean comment which I deleted along with the original story. That being said, thank you to everyone who writes nice comments on this site. It's such a pleasure to read and commiserate and know you get it (and not have to delete on grounds of blog-rage.)

On Being Alone

Lonely in New York = observer.
Lonely in LA = bored.

November

There was the election and the prop 8 rallies and L.A. felt New Yorky in November. Strangers talked politics and pop culture, and people helped each other navigate where to vote or hold up a sign. There was the NY trip for Thanksgiving and the normalcy of being in cold weather when Bruce Springsteen's "Santa Claus is Coming To Town" played in a cafe. There was the classy Bardot, the outstandingly funny "Celebrity Autobiography", the pitches, the punch up, the tequila, and Vynl Diner - but that last bunch of things was on both coasts. Could my new level of adjustment be the product of a little east and a little west? New Yorker in L.A. in New York and L.A.? (Even I'm skeptical about my adjusted-sounding attitude. Please note: Haven't been in traffic or actually seen anyone yet today.)

L.A. Relationships

It's interesting how many times I've heard men and women give each other this advice: "If you want to find a real relationship you need to move out of L.A." Why would that be, I wonder? Especially since most people in L.A. aren't even from here and it's full of interesting, ambitious people who are even lonelier than New Yorkers. Last night some men brought that up so we considered some reasons it can be so cuckoo here. Here were my favorites: 1. Career priority (and the inability to incorporate an additional priority.) 2. Because people are constantly arriving to and leaving town, the mistaken entitlement that rather than work through a problem it's preferable to just blend into the ether. 3. The dream of eternal youth.

The Pull Back Effect

Ever finally meet someone new and that night get a call from your ex that they're in town? What about taking charge of your career, enrolling in a class to begin the new trajectory, and that very week, getting a call from an old boss to come back? When I experienced these things I started to notice what I call The Pull Back Effect. It happens when you leave one system to move into another. And it happens in L.A. all. the. time. It could come in any form from people referring you for the kind of job you're trying to forget you ever did, to your parents calling urgently the morning you finally have someone in your bed. Good or bad, and certainly unconscious, the old system doesn't want you to go so it's just when you take a step forward that some kind of obstacle will seem to pull you back. Some people see this as a test. Some see it as Murphy's Law. Alanis Morisette might see it as ironic. I see it as an indication of how far forward you're moving (which is equal to how ridiculous the pull back is). It works the other way, too. An L.A. friend waiting for work for months finally took a trip and at the airport on the way out of town got a call with a job offer. Another friend took a day job and just then she got a slew of auditions. But he got to start the job when he got back, and her job is flexible with her hours. This could mean whenever you want something to happen, do something else. Or it could mean you have to be willing to do what works for you.

What To Do While Driving

On the New York City subway, where someone else is in the drivers seat, we can spend the time reading a book. When we drive our cars in LA we can't read books, but we can sing out loud. More books in NY, more vocals in LA: this is what I concluded while waiting at the red light singing "Time After Time" to pass the... time after time. The dude in the car next to me picked his nose.

Double Dating

People who arrived to LA with a spouse seem to have had an easier time acclimating. This could be because it's primarily a suburban lifestyle in L.A., or possibly because they weren't set up on a double date with a twelve year-old like I was. When my friend and I arrived to a club on Sunset, as suggested by her date William, he introduced a small blond boy at his side as if the only thing wrong was that they needed a place to sit so Jordan could eat his freshly bought burger. Apparently, William's ex-girlfriend needed someone to watch her son that night so when he said to my friend "you bring someone and I'll bring someone" he wasn't clear that his someone orders the kids meal. We sat on couches to hear the first band, Jordan chomped away, and I realized this is why in L.A. people don't carpool. My friend was busy cozying up to her date, her date was joking that I like Jordan, and I was miserable. To distract Jordan from the inappropriate implication that I could be attracted to him but put in this awful position to otherwise hurt his feelings by making a statement about it, I made conversation with him like a normal person. I asked what school was like now. I asked whether band is still considered geeky. I asked if he played any instruments. After a series of brief, disinterested answers I went to the last resort: I asked what his favorite color was. When he said he didn't have one I was over it. Everyone has a favorite color. I turned to watch the band. After a moment he said, "I don't have just one favorite color..." and he named all eight. "So," he continued inquisitively - or attempting to be suave, I'm not sure - "What's your favorite color... or group of colors?" I smiled. He smiled bigger. We got caught up in conversation about colors, and school, and divorced parents, and music, and sports, he told me how his father was too hard on him and how he had to split time between his mom and dad in two different cities, and then he announced he had to go to the bathroom. During the time he was gone, William - my friend's date - was on the phone trying to get us into some next club and a bartender came over and berated me for letting a child go to the bathroom by himself. (But doesn't it seem clingy for a woman to bring her date to the bathroom?) Luckily, he returned untouched and while we waited outside at the next club and William yapped on the phone trying actually to get us in, Jordan taught me funny lyrics he and his friends made up to a rap song. Then we pretended he was famous and I was his PR agent ordering him a private helicopter. We were laughing so hard our friends wanted in. This was the best date ever. It was fun, imaginative, engaging, nothing meant anything, and there was a charming innocence to it with no pressure of what would or wouldn't happen at the end of the night - especially since his mom was picking him up. And, need I say, she was pissed. She called Jordan's cell phone and he got into a near panic looking for where she had pulled up outside the club's chaos. Remembering the bathroom incident and not wanting him to get hurt (he was blindly walking into the street while talking to her on his cell) but not wanting to treat him like a child, I linked arms to guide him while he continued to get directions towards her. She stuck her head out and yelled "get in the car!" He covered up the sudden, unexpected hurry with an embarrassed smile. Smiling back, I realized I'd forgotten that important feeling of sweet romance, in my adult life, as he drove away. Well, technically, he didn't drive away, his mother did.

Ups and Downs

Last night I was at a beautiful new bar/club with some good friends, good food, and good music. There were folks there like Ryan Gosling, Kate Hudson, Liv Tyler, Mischa Barton, and I heard that even Dustin Hoffman came in. Later that night I was driving around for forty-five minutes - let me repeat - 45 minutes looking for parking and again early this morning for 1/2 hour when I had to move my car for street cleaning. I think the frequency of the ups and downs here in L.A. turn any hint at illusion to reality and then the reality doesn't make much sense either. So at first the ups and downs will seem insurmountable but eventually, all experiences sort of even out emotionally with a dash of confusing. Some call it "jaded", some call it "dead inside". I call it "I'm still into it but we really need public transportation".

Buying a Bed

When I moved to LA I had to buy a new bed. It's strange to go to stores and lie down on mattresses in public. There's an awkward conflict of vulnerability and looking sharp while I try to convince myself that I'm sleeping and a salesman tells me about the pluses of individually wrapped coils. That mix gets compounded when I suddenly consider that if I invest in an expensive bed I have to think about my future. Will the man who will eventually be in this bed with me be a sound or restless sleeper? If he's getting up three or four times a night, and I didn't go for the individually wrapped coils, this bed could ruin our relationship. If I go for a large bed but he's a small guy, it'll feel like sleeping alone and we'll worry why we're growing apart. When I decided that I would just consider my future when it came to the size, I found my favorite mattress, the Avondale Firm, and it was delivered that Saturday. Surprisingly, it was even more awkward to test it out in private. The delivery guys stood in my bedroom waiting for my signature while I layed down, pretended to rest, and laughed at myself because I took up about about 1/5th of it. (What can I say, I went for the king size -- maybe he'd be tall and also have a dog.) I got the king size not because I'm not okay being alone but because it represented possibility. It's a ten year warranty for godsakes and the long stretch of time on that alone could keep a person up at night.

After Hours

Every once in a while when I'm out in L.A. someone will say, "I know of an after hours place". It's always said on the down low and with intrigue. I keep asking people what this means and finally realized why the idea of 'after hours' continues to escape me. In NY we don't have after-hours because everything's open until all hours. During my last NYC visit, after a nighttime wedding reception at the Boat House, some friends and I hopped in a cab and listened to some jazz downtown, then walked up from the West Village stopping by landmarks like the Empire State and the Chrysler building. Around the time we got to a food truck in midtown with a line down the block, we decided to call it a night. That's when we discovered it was 4am. Is all I'm saying.

Helping (the Neighborly kind)

About a week ago I helped a stranger carry a big box and walked away with this amazing surge of hope and community. Then I asked myself: "From carrying a box?!" Why had it been so long since I felt that sense of humanity? A friend pointed out that in L.A. we don't have the opportunity to help each other in small doses because we're in our cars. See, in NY we can give and get help in 30 second increments because we're walking around. So, giving directions, taking the other end of a stroller down the subway stairs, or "Did you want to sit?" are common exchanges among New Yorkers several times a day. Here, lending a hand often means a fairly large effort like helping someone move, or with their career... and certainly not while driving.
(Also see "Energy"and "Space" essays below.)

9/11.

Cocktails, Coffee, and Co-workers

Some of the most down-to-earth people you'll meet in L.A. are native Angelinos and, likely, at first you'll think they're from New York. I was at a party tonight finding out how this L.A. guy knew the host (from NY) and he said it was very unusual but they met on a job. It was unusual to me to hear that that was unusual. All of my NY friends were from jobs. In fact, the more intense the job, the closer the friendship. I explained that it was common to go out for a cocktail with co-workers 1-2 times a week. Then I remembered on my first job in L.A. I assumed we'd all go out after work but everyone else had to go home. (New Yorkers don't go home until we're ready for bed.) I was disappointed and confused (how could no one want to go for a cocktail?!) and went outside to take this in. I was very aware that I was about to have to get used to a whole new way of socializing. My co-worker came out and explained that since we drive to work, we can't drink and then drive home, so people don't go out unless it's planned... and most people don't plan. Not to mention how exhausting traffic is. That made sense. And what I've found since, is that these work relationships don't necessarily produce new friendships but they often produce new working relationships. So, you'll find that while you may not be having cocktails with your co-workers, you will be meeting with one or two for "coffee".

Brunch

Weekend brunch is practically mandatory in New York. On Amsterdam the bars from the night before close just before sunrise and the restaurants in between them open around 10 or 11. Once a friend and I went to this new place around 9 am (so early because it was a holiday and we were meeting up before seeing family). The hostess told us to come back because the chef was still sleeping and hadn't gotten there yet. So yesterday in L.A. when friends invited me to Runyon before 10am it was shocking to me how many people were there hiking and awake already. Believe it or not, out here people even have breakfast meetings. I don't think that would even occur to a New Yorker. In fact, when I first arrived in L.A. I worked with a woman briefly who was leaving town in a couple of days and we were trying to figure out a plan to meet. She offered up breakfast the next day. I was so taken off guard by the idea of 'breakfast + meeting' I was speechless. She got offended and said, "You look so shocked. Never mind," got in her car and drove away. I was honestly confused by the concept of being professional that early let alone eating something called breakfast, a thing that to a New Yorker occurs only on weekdays, in our apartments, before rushing to work. Or, if there's no time until getting into work, it's called "Going-downstairs-to-get-something-to-eat."

Celebrity Spotting

Earlier, I wrote about how the only celebrity I spot is Abe Vigoda. But this weekend I had a guest in town with a keen eye for star-gazing. What I love most are the combinations of who was pointed out - (not sitting together, but at the same restaurant). Breakfast: Gabrielle Reece & Laird Hamilton, Michael Rappaport, and Shirley Maclaine. Lunch: Gordon Ramsey, Omar Epps, and Tina Louise. The combinations are as wonderful as if they were on a three hour tour.

?!

If you want to feel what it's like to have dementia, try to park on San Vicente and Wilshire.

Next chapter?

In May I began my next chapter in L.A. For one, I stopped being mad at it. Not on purpose, either. It just happened. Maybe because I realized I'd found my voice in all this, was able to embrace my New Yorkness (a.k.a. wear black again), had some good jobs that validated the work I've put in, got over a broken heart or two, and recently had a weekend that included a sail in the Marina, a party in the 'Hills', a visit to the Observatory, and the premiere of the new Woody Allen movie. And I have to say, in all that, there were some good people and not a tool in sight.
I still want to be bi-coastal.

Douchebaggery, Tool, and Flake

I didn't know these words before L.A. The definition of Douchebaggery and Tool: you'll know when you meet enough of them. Flake: (see essay below).

I think I've covered everything.

Art Museum

If you like art check out the completely redone LACMA. I'm impressed. (In the modern art building, the Jeff Koons exhibit includes the huge balloon animal dog sculpture.)

How to Know if You'll Love It

You will love L.A. if you're the kind of person who enjoys possessing no less than eleven Bed Bath & Beyond coupons at one time, believes that dogs should never be on a leash, craves an opportunity to wear a Hawaiian shirt, and is exceedingly patient with everything, everywhere, at all times.
As for the rest of you, upon returning from an NYC trip stop by any restaurant on Culver Blvd. in Culver City for a surprisingly vibrant New York-y atmosphere.

Character (while visiting NY)

There was a woman who thought someone knocked over a hot dog cart when really it was a sketch for David Letterman. There was a guy at the purposely yellow-lit Moma exhibit who said, "Everyone's monochromatic. I don't know how to set my camera." There was a man in the park bellowing like a pirate, teaching his Parks Department co-worker how to put on his uniform -- and the trainee was alternately nervewracked and laughing. These are the real characters, here in NY, that we then go and portray in L.A.

In Town

The Pope and I were both in NY today. Guess which one of us went to Trish for a haircut?

Inspirational Quotes?

Don't believe the hype - Public Enemy
Dig all jive - Langston Hughes
Delete is the new closure - NYer in LA

Sudden Crosswalks

Where in NY pedestrians and drivers seem to have a symbiotic relationship, LA peds have an unusual amount of right-of-way-entitlement and sometimes even cross while texting. So beware of Sudden Crosswalks where in the middle of a busy street, without warning, someone will just start crossing causing everyone to come to a near accident. I have no advice for this except have good peripheral vision as well as tuned brakes, get used to where these crosswalks are, and try not to get distracted by those seizure causing electronic billboards advertising shows and movies most of us don't need to know about anyway because we work here. Today I realized that my enjoyment of LA is directly proportional to parking.

Brand New?

Some general sites to get you started: Apartment = westsiderentals.com. Cars (used) = autotrader.com. Health insurance = ehealthinsurance.com. Car insurance = insurance.com. Sublets and furniture = craigslist.org. Rental car = priceline.com.

Asking For Help

If you've read the "Energy" and "Identity Bootcamp" essays below it will help explain what I'm about to explain. My friend came to LA and met with his friend to ask for career help. He was completely frustrated because the guy didn't do for him what he felt was enough. It made me think about career-help in L.A. I don't mean reading a script and giving notes which is certainly a favor, I mean a consistent mentor; people who nudge you forward before the meltdowns. It's possible I'm sure, but not frequent. Maybe this can help you understand and therefore navigate who and how to ask while keeping your angst at bay and self-esteem in tact. 1) Know that it takes 100% of human being energy to maintain a single career in LA. 2) With none of that NY-style energy coming in, any extra energy gets depleted during traffic. 3) Career-wise few have the capability, energy, or time to be relied on because that means they'll have to look out for someone in the future and no one in L.A. wants to be responsible for another life. Unless they're getting paid. A lot. Seriously. 4) It's much easier for people to connect people than to help them. 5) The more specific you are, the easier it is for someone to follow through. What do you want to be connected with? 6) On the other hand if you're lost and need general career advice take someone to lunch who is not jaded or doing worse than you are. 7) Figure that everyone you talk to, no matter how successful, is trying to keep themselves afloat on some level. An approximate Favor Scale: In general, 1-3 per person. If they also have a family, zero-1. And even though it seems people are more comfortable connecting those who have been through it in L.A, worked to earn it, and know the nuances of what it takes, this is in no way to say that you shouldn't ask for help. Of course you should. You have to. Putting it out there is key. But know the whole thing gets easier when you build a reputation, get some experience under your belt, and ironically (?) don't need as much.

Movie Theaters

In NY there's the Film Forum, the Angelika, and then there's everything else. In L.A. each movie theater seems to have a personality, its loyal patrons, and are referred to by their name. It took time for me to wrap my head around people arguing which theater was best (as opposed to just going to the "ten plex") so, here's the basic round up: Laemmle theaters, including Sunset 5, and Regency are art-house/indie. The Egyptian, the Arclight, and the theater at the Grove are cushy seats and legroom, but can be extra-expensive like Mann's Chinese. Regency theaters have great prices because they show films after they've been out but they also have groovy retro and midnight screenings. If you're not already union-ized, friends in the business might invite you to a screening at the DGA or WGA, and believe it or not you can still see the Rocky Horror Picture Show at the NuArt described as a "militantly independent" theater. The Orpheum downtown has a great screening series, I'm still not sure what goes on at The Silent Movie Theater, and the Cemetery Screenings are held during the summer. The only thing spooky about that is they got so popular you have to go super early, wait on line, and may not get in. It's pretty much as if they showed film noir in Bryant Park. Against a mausoleum.
ps. I have to recommend Gallery 1988. Great art opening, fun show full of twisted nostalgia. Look for: "Sara Finds an Arm" and "Hungry Hungry". Also, "Praying With Lior", a moving documentary, opened Friday.
*I have since gotten to know the Silent Movie Theater and they show everything but. It's the coolest random selection of any art house I know of. They get irony. Get on their email list to become privy to things like the Maysles fest that showed Grey Gardens, or the night of Animation-shorts-before-there-were-censors.

Social Life II

In NY I had a vow that I would never not go to something because of the weather. In L.A. my vow was: I would never not go to something because of driving. Another key to the initiation of my L.A. social life (See "Social Life" essay below) was that one of the few people I knew upon arrival was a stand-up comic. See, comedians, one-man-show actors, and bands want you to come to their shows so right away there was lots to do. About a year or two in, I remember one night I couldn't go to another show ever and became far more discriminating about what I'll drive for. But until then, if you're friendless and looking to jump start your social life... Comedy-wise check out local spots -- rather than tourist-y ones that charge a big cover and drink minimums. UCB Theater can be cool (in fact check out the bars on that block after - they're friendly.) Comedy Central Space (check out "Guys with Feelings" live - I could watch their 'How Does Oprah Introduce' bit forever), The Tomorrow Show, the Fake Gallery, M Bar. Music-wise, I like Hotel Cafe the best. Molly Malone's, The Mint, Tangier, and The Roxy have been cool. Literary-wise there are readings like Sit-n'-Spin and book signings by celebs at Book Soup and the Grove's Barnes & Noble all the time. Culture-wise you can easily put yourself on email lists (lacma, hammer, moca, museum of film & television, town hall/writers bloc) and watch the events fill your in-box. If you arrive with a significant other or have made a friend cool enough to be a wingman you might be interested in checking out what's trendy in restaurants, clubs, bars etc. at Metromix.com. It's fairly new and a great resource that makes everything in L.A. seem amazing. Newly discovered: Boredla.com.

Relaxation

When it comes to traffic + time in L.A. my friend had some great insights. 1. When you don't need to get somewhere on time it'll be the only time traffic doesn't make you late. 2. For some reason whoever lives the closest arrives the latest. 3. If you're on your way to do something relaxing traffic will stress you out twice as much so you'll come out of your relaxing activity fairly neutral. So. While we're at it, some relaxing things to do: Tea at Dr. Teas - the zen garden in the back. The beach, of course. (Bring quarters and singles so you won't get stressed parking.) Voda Spa (note: you can use the spa without a service for $50). Sunset Foot Spa (amazingly inexpensive). For meditation: introtomeditation.com.

Volunteering

If you're hankering to give back - or at least spend time with people in a context other than 'the business' - here are some volunteer things I've done that I'd recommend: L.A. Works (laworks.com) has a bunch of different things to choose from. Through that, I've played basketball with teenagers at a teen shelter and done gardening-clean up with kids at a school. Challengers Boys & Girls Club (cbgcla.org) is a very inspiring place to be. Young Storytellers (.com) has mentor writers work with kids one-on-one. My friends have liked working with Habitat for Humanity, Project Angel Food, Meals on Wheels, Big Brothers Big Sisters, and the literacy program through the Public Library where you can teach someone to read.

Art

The other night I saw a friend's documentary at the MOCA called The Cool School about the development of the art scene in L.A. It inspired me to see more documentaries and more art and gave me an appreciation for the fact that L.A. is a relatively new place. On one hand I miss that history that is palpable in New York, the one where other people, great thinkers, have been there before and have got your back. On the other hand it made me realize that scenes here in L.A., perhaps other than art, have yet to be started. Art spots that I've been to and would recommend: Morrison Hotel Gallery, The MOCA (moca.org), The Getty Center (for the gardens), The Hammer Museum (if there's a cool exhibit), Gagosian Gallery, The art walk downtown (dowtownartwalk.com), and keep in mind that some galleries have groovy openings complete with plastic cups of wine. To find local galleries in your area check out art-collecting.com/galleries_ca_losangeles.htm.

Chores

I was telling a friend the chore I hate the most is cleaning my tub. She said, "Oh that one I don't mind because the maid does it." No matter what economic class or amount of square footage lived in, most people in L.A. have a housekeeper. And of those who have a house rather than an apartment, 98% have a gardener. Come to think of it, no one I know rakes their own leaves (there are few leaves), shovels their own snow (there is no snow), or mows their own lawn. In fact, if you don't have a driveway I heard you're actually not allowed to wash your own car. During the summer, timers turn on sprinklers that are poorly aimed and spray across the sidewalks. It's all just part of the culture in the same way that NYers are big on delivery. Groceries, laundry, and frequently, dinner. Even when the place is right downstairs.

Events

When it comes to holding events I expected that L.A.ers would be the perfectionists New Yorkers are considering how many events are held here. So when I first got to L.A. and was connected to a party so big and A-List that I had to send a resume to get in, I did what I had to do. In fact, my guest also had to be approved. Emails went back and forth and finally I was granted an invitation. My friend and I arrived to a studio lot to find that the party was to promote buffalo meat and about twenty people were in attendance. I was eating a strawberry (I'm vegetarian and that was the only other option..?) when the host came over and said to us discreetly, "Ladies, see that man over there?" We did. "You should meet him. He's the vice president. Of Transportation." When we left she made sure we got a gift bag that included an airplane sized bottle of scotch, a CD of the celtic band that they couldn't find when it was time to perform, and a squeezy toy buffalo. But that was nothing compared to an awards show I went to that was honoring women in media and was so disorganized that people randomly didn't show up for awards on stage, the wrong winner was often announced for the wrong category, Kevin James won for something, and Katie Holmes accepted an award for Helen Mirren. Host Harry Sheerer did an outstanding job holding it together and ended the evening saying, "And if you want to know how these awards were selected, I'm as curious as you are."

Elections

Besides the fact that an action film star is really the Governor, the other odd thing about politics in L.A. is that every election includes a vote regarding Native Americans and gaming and I still don't understand what's going on. I want to know so I can help out Native Americans but the TV ads about it sound like this to me: in one a Native American man and a Nurse will say, "Vote no." In another, a Native American woman and a Fireman will say, "Vote Yes." Then a third will say, "The other side is putting out deceptive ads." Who's what side of what for who? Is this the gaming part?

The Rope, The List, and The Line

I got an evite to a friend's birthday party and after passing the Celebrity Scientology Center three times looking for parking, I finally arrived at a club on Hollywood. Since I was on the list, I announced the host's name to the bouncers at the door. Alas, I was still directed to the end of a long line. Little did my friend know there'd be four other birthdays with four other lists. And weirdly, the other people waiting looked like what in New York we refer to as Bridge & Tunnel. I'm not sure what they're called in L.A. but the girls wear gold tube tops and the boys wear smelly cologne. You know exactly who I'm talking about. When I wait on these lines (and I'll do it because I want to show up for the host, and besides it already took me 45 minutes to park) the first five minutes I have no problem. Then it wears off, the injustice sinks in, and I spiral into New Yorker intolerant. If I'm with a group of friends, inevitably someone will say, "Oh no. I don't wait on lines" and they'll nominate someone to go get the bouncers to give us special treatment. Of course every group is trying to do this. I know people who have waited on these lines and never even gotten in, people who are made to wait at events they already bought tickets for, and people who are made to wait just to make the place look good. More often than not you'll notice this is the case because once you finally get inside you'll see how empty it is. Emotionally.

Cool Photography Exhibit

It happened. I happened upon art. Just walking by, I stopped into a very cool photography exhibit of the Rolling Stones called "Let It Bleed" at the Morrison Hotel Gallery on Sunset. Cool and New Yorky. (Probably because there's also an east coast version of the gallery on Prince Street?) If you check out the "cast of characters" photos when you first walk in you'll wonder how these people weren't cast as their entourage. It's up until tomorrow, Sunday 1/27. If you can't catch it, some of the photos will continue on at their regular gallery a few doors down.

Evening Commuting

People not going exactly when the light turns green is maddening. People not signaling when they cut in front of you can lead to insanity. But here's something great to do for the next two weeks if you're commuting: 5-7pm Listen to 1150 am KTLK. It's "The World According to Frangela". These two newsy radio hosts are so smart and unbelievably funny. They're usually on Saturday 11-1. And you know what? Listen then too because even though it's a Saturday, it's L.A., and it's likely you might not have gotten home from your commute yet.

Paparazzi

Whether it was on line at a corner grocery with Keanu Reeves, on a corner with John Lithgow, or in a bar with Bono (he was in the middle of a v-shaped booth - all night my friend thought she was quoting Dirty Dancing when she said, "no one puts Bono in the corner!") I always had the feeling in New York that we like to give celebrities their privacy. For one, walking culture and no studio system makes for less forced glamour and more equality. This is why I still can't grasp the whole Paparazzi thing. I mean, I get it in a business sense but it is just so odd to see Paparazzi in L.A. waiting outside of stores and restaurants or jumping out of hummers. It's a level of 'surface' that's so simple, it's difficult to comprehend. If you want to paparazzi the paparazzi check out Robertson or read TMZ to see whatever hottest club they're hanging outside of. But I realize this difference is why I think I never see celebrities in L.A. I seem to think they're regular people. In fact, the other night at a classy bar this guy and I were kind of checking each other out. I thought he was sort of cute but I left so I wouldn't be late to a party. Later I found out it was Colin Farrell. Last week it took me till the end of the night to be made aware that I was feet from an 80's soap-opera crush. When I first moved out here I was friends with this guy for months and commiserating about dating and relationships with him before a friend said, "Isn't that the 'Bagel Boy' who went out with Cher?"

Being Single in L.A.

There is a time in every person's life when bad dates go from "good story" to "panic stricken reality". Being single in L.A. really is it's own unique experience. See, in New York, even when there were no relationships on the horizon there was a constant sense of romantic possibility. It arose just from walking out of my building to the energy of the street -- who knows who I might walk by or run into? Eye contact with a man in a suit felt like a two-second affair, enough to start an entirely new imaginary crush or at least the reminder that that feeling exists. In L.A. a sense of romantic possibility is so self-generated and I seem to have run out of fantasies. Not to mention I'm having a really hard time meeting someone special in my car. Jon Robin Baitz wrote a piece for Huff Po a couple of days ago "Leaving Los Angeles: Part 2 (Love)". In it he says, "LA is the world capital of loneliness. In the age of isolation, this is a very special achievement. I could not crack it. I could only survive it."

Hills

The first time I parked on one of those steep hills in Silverlake I thought "What in the world do they do when it snows?" Then I remembered it doesn't snow. But getting used to hills in L.A. is especially odd after mastering the pavement of NYC. In fact, if you're hiking Runyon and you get to that area where the hill is steep, the pebbles make things slippery, and the built in wooden steps don't seem to help much... don't feel stupid, remember as New Yorker you might have cornered the market on walking but when is the last time you've gone up or down a hill? It took me four years, a good pair of running shoes, and a "hey where they going?" curiosity to get over my fear and try that part. Thanks to old yoga training I remembered to put the weight in my thighs and butt to compensate for the downward angle. And when I saw the girl in front of me having an even harder time (and she was on a date!) I realized it was okay to take it slow - after all I'd never navigated this specific hill before either. While I was thinking "Yeah, I don't need to do this again" some people were running down with confidence, one guy though was going down sitting. Good for him. He was really putting the weight in his butt.

Bringing Your Car In

A Fixwhat: When something's wrong with your car, you finally bring it to the mechanic and that thing that's been driving you nuts won't happen so they say "There's no problem."

Cab Driver

One Saturday morning in New York I got myself out of bed early to see my friend's first pottery show. I was walking in Tribeca, a man to my side met my pace, and said enticingly, "Hola mama." And as if he were simply being unreasonable and we both knew it, I said, "It's too early." Still, safety is always on a woman's mind which is why there were three girls waiting for cabs tonight when I walked outside to go home, in fact one girl had been waiting forty-five minutes. (To be honest, I was so willing to walk but my friends insisted I grab a cab.) It felt great as a New Yorker in L.A. to step out and in the next thirty seconds flag cabs down for her, for the other girls, and one for myself. Two guys told me they were going to Santa Monica. I told them they'd have no problem getting the next one. The taxi driver started our ride with some good ol' cabbie conversation. Would we talk philosophy of love like so many NYC cabbies liked to do? Would he give me advice on being "foxy"? Would he tell me how to cook rice? He asked where those other guys were going. I said, "Santa Monica". Irritated, he said, "You're this close and they're going to Santa Monica?!" I said, "Yeah." He said, "What 'YEAH.' " Was he angry at my proximity? I told him there were lots of people there and he could go back and get another fare in a minute. He said, "Yeah right. You should have walked." Now, there are two people in the world I don't want to piss off: my haircutter (they've got the scissors) and my cab driver. Not only is the cab driver at the controls but they know where ya' live. Plus, how absurd is it to even engage in a conversation about why it's safer to take a cab when he's the one who does it for a living? When he handed me back the change he huffed, "Oh just take it! And next time, walk." Aww, he just sounds like an angry New Yorker.

#1 FAQ

Q. Is dating harder in L.A.?
A. Yes.
I bet you'd like more of an explanation.
That's the ironic explanation.

Public Transpo

Yes, last night I actually was at the intersection where Montana Avenue meets Montana Avenue. This is not only irresponsible of the city planner, it's just one example of how driving in L.A. has not gotten any less stressful for me. So, this morning I woke up determined to try public transportation. I don't know when -- and right now this idea is only in my mind since enough people have looked at me in disgust when I've mentioned it in the past -- but I have to figure out how to lower my stress level and why the bus system here is so frowned upon. The last time I was close to taking the bus my car was in the shop and a co-worker and I planned it as an adventure to make it less painful. With a video camera, she would follow my journey on the bus to work in the morning and I would post it on this site. There were complex details to work out like the fact that she wanted her car so she could have it at the end of the day. We planned for her to drive over to my house and tail the bus all the way to work. Then it dawned on us. She said, "Wait. Why don't I just give you a ride?"

Christmas Time

It is silly enough to be driving on a sunny, mild day and hear the song "Let it Snow" on the radio. It is sillier yet to see a lemon tree in full bloom draped in Christmas lights.

New York-y Things in L.A.

Why is it that when we're on vacation we let loose and when we're back home we do laundry? You know what I mean - away from our usual state gets us out of our usual state-of-mind but upon returning home it's only days before we're back into our old routine. Well, this trip to NY was so inspiring I promised myself I'd do things differently when I returned to L.A. So far it's working. I discovered a bar called The Foundry on Melrose and one called La Poubelle on Franklin both which have a New York-y vibe. I checked out The Hollywood Farmers' Market on Ivar which was reminiscent of a street fair on Amsterdam. A friend and I went to La Campanile's grilled cheese night. This is not to say that driving and parking hasn't continued to make me crazy, but this time when I was losing my sh*t at the post office because the line was crazy long and someone was filling their forms out at the window (which would never happen in NY - see "Errands" essay below) - and because the woman on my left looked at me blankly refusing to commiserate, I turned to my right where I found another east coaster commiserating with someone to her right. Hallelujah. People connecting.

Thanksgiving II

I was sitting in the bleachers at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and in front of me was a girl yelling "wooo!" to each float or balloon that passed. In front of her a woman turned around and said, "Could you not 'Wooo'?!" So the girl pointed and said, "It's a parade." The woman turned forward and then turned back around again suggesting, "So, you can clap." And she clapped as an example. She turned back towards the parade. Then, apparently with another idea, she turned back to the girl and said, "Or how about..." and with silence, but serious enthusiastic emphasis, she stuck her two thumbs up.

Thanksgiving

Highlights from an NYC Thanksgiving trip: Men in suits ride buses, I still stand at the corner waiting for the light to change, and I was out till 4 am last night, it was so much fun. Interestingly, come to think of it, I was hanging out with friends I know from L.A.

Fireworks on November 18th?

I don't think it's unreasonable to say that during a time of war, in a state that has earthquakes, in a town that's already on edge because of an industry strike, weeks after the fires, I just don't think it's unreasonable to say: hold off on the fireworks displays, people. See, unless a person has purposely gone to view them, if it's not July 4th, the finale sounds kind of like... how do I describe it? Explosions. I had to remind myself that it wasn't a thunderstorm either, since there aren't even thunderstorms in L.A. Reluctantly, the search continued. Finally, I found the answer from my back window. Pink, orange, and ridiculously sparkly.

Highway Signs

In NY and NJ the highways are easily definable: Route 4, Route 17, Route 80. In L.A. it's The 101, The 110, and The 10. Unnecessary with the binary code, don't you think? Tonight I drove up to Northridge via The 101 North. Now, occasionally this is also called the 101 West. So you could be facing two signs at the same time to the same entrance with different names. I went to Northridge to pick up a coffee table I found on Craig's List. On the drive up I ate a couple of yesterday's matzoballs (!) and remembered how once when I was in a long relationship I was talking to a friend about how I was feeling antsy in it. He said, "You want to sew your wild oats." That was a good way to put it. At the time though I didn't know how to tell my boyfriend. So, the next time we were in the car and I was finding it impossible to bring up, silently I asked for help. I thought, "God, if we should break up, just give me a sign" and as we turned the corner there was a big ass sign on a market called "Wild Oats". That's when I turned a corner and said, "I think we should see other people". This is also why on the way home, (Ikea coffee table disassembled in the backseat), I had this thought: "God, just let me know I'm going to meet someone soon. I don't need details, just a sign that it will happen. How about: at some point." Minutes later, I'd forgotten my silent sort-of-prayer and turned on the radio. First there was Rob Thomas: "I don't wanna feel lonely no more..." Hmm. I pressed one of the other preset stations where Santana sang matter-of-factly, "Ain't got nobody... that I can depend on." Wait a second. Seeing the absurdity in this I clicked another preset station just to see what I would get. It was Desperado. Now, I just looked up the definition of "Desperado" and I am relieved to say that it means "a criminal, especially in the early settlement of the western U.S.", not a derivative of "Desperate" which bothered me all the way down the 101. I think it was the 101.

SAG and the Strike

Three unusual things happened from a NYer in L.A. perspective today: 1. While picketing I was concerned about getting a sunburn. It's a week from Thanksgiving. 2. Actors came out to support the strike today which meant some folks from The Office creating a band and calling themselves "The Scrantoons". Awesome. 3. I made matzo balls. I don't know why but it seems I am starting to cook. Matzo balls?
If you want some info about the strike from the writers' perspective check out the videos "why we fight" and "voices of uncertainty" on www.unitedhollywood.com.

Magnolia vs. Sprinkles

I just discovered Sprinkles wins on the cupcakes. But Magnolia has banana pudding. Sprinkles has Beverly Hills and twenty minute meters. Magnolia has cobblestone streets. Hmm... and yum.

The Writers' Strike

Today is the first day of the strike. The community discussion of it in L.A. is like NY in a snowstorm and I'm likin' it. Now is the time to figure this out, as new media is booming, because things weren't figured out properly years ago when cable boomed and over time it created an imbalance where corporations (networks/producers) profit unfairly. As an example, many shows originated on cable can be rerun endlessly without paying residuals but since advertisers still pay regardless of whether it's a repeat, there is a profit every commercial break. Since new media is a relatively new medium this is when something fair can -- and should -- be established. I'm not liking that it had to come to this and both parties couldn't figure out how to be sensible about it but at least the car honking of supporters made me feel closer to New York.

Earthquake Proofing

I have two Ikea bookcases and finally decided to earthquake proof which means attaching them to the wall with the little piece of material included in the bags that I've saved. This task has been overwhelming because 1) with it comes thoughts on NY vs. L.A. of course, 2) thoughts on the fact that I don't have a boyfriend, and 3) according to the "instructions", I have to go buy the screws which apparently differs for every individual -- I have no idea why.
So, just now I finally found a local hardware store, went in and explained everything to the man behind the counter. He was also so confused he called over the manager. ... Nope. He called over the mentally disabled worker. I followed this guy over to the screw section suddenly being extra nice because I'm sure I've seen his kind of retarded-guy-makes-good story in a movie.
Shaking his head he said, "You should have a friend who can help you with this. You should have someone who can give you two screws." And as if I was a total loser he added, "It's standard." I asked, "To have screws? Or to have someone who can give me screws?" He looked at the array of screw choices and said, "I don't know what to tell you." I asked, "Do you mean you can't tell what would be strong enough?" I showed him the instructions and handed him the piece of material that came in the bag. He tugged at it while he looked away profoundly. "They fall for it every time. They fall for it EVERY time." Me: "They fall for what every time? What did I fall for?" Him: "How many pounds is it?" Me: "I don't know." Him: "With the books in it. How many pounds is it?" Me: "My bookshelf? I don't know. I never weighed it." Him: "Have you ever carried books?" "Yes." "Well, how much did they weigh??" Me: "I don't know." Now I was getting annoyed too and we were at a stand off.
Him: "How much does a book weigh?"
Me: "I don't know."
Him: "How much does a fish weigh?!"
Me: "I don't know!"
Him: "How much does a one pound cake weigh?!"
Me: "ONE POUND!"
He laughed. Good play. I think I just won the game.
...?
As for the screws, I left without any, have no idea what anything weighs, am reevaluating my relationships wondering who in my life has two screws... but as I look at my bookcase I'm taking comfort in the fact that if it were to fall the books don't look that heavy anyway so, well, I'm not totally screwed.

Fall Foliage?

No fall foliage. But there's some plant in L.A. that blooms this time of year that smells like ejaculate. There. I said it.

The Fires

I'm relatively far from the fires except for noticing haze and heat, an orange tone to the moon, and of course having empathy for those effected. I'm glad that emergency services are working properly, evacuating people, and I'm glad that fire departments aren't privatized so they have the resources and can work until the winds die down and the fires are out, no pre-approvals necessary. So, purposely, rather than watching the news which would only scare me to an unnecessary level, or a medical drama which makes me feel like I just spent an exhausting night in the hospital, last night I watched a Seinfeld rerun. Unfortunately, during a commercial break there was an ad for a horror film where a girl whimpers, "Oh God." and the scary guy tells her in a low creepy voice, "No God." Now, I don't see horror films for a reason. They're horrible. And horrifying. Really, they scare me in a very un-enjoyable way that I think most women can relate to considering we have to think about our safety in real life most of the time anyway. So, even though this is a commercial, I have real feelings of sympathy and fear for the girl, and dread and terror of the creepy man/monster. Then, immediately, regarding the fires, an anchor's voice quickly announces, "The death toll rises. Firefighters find victims' remains. Tonight at 11." which makes me suddenly, deeply, very sad and somewhat angry. Then boom - that dopey (albeit usually fun) Seinfeld music: "doe doe doe-di-oh-doe". Back to the show. Wait a minute. Emotions don't process in 30-seconds, do they? Am I unusual for paying attention and responding or is it more acceptable to be caught off guard and manage to not feel anything? Until now I'd thought information overload was distracting bugs and ridiculous news crawls making us read and listen to different things at the same time. But what's really f*ing us up is emotional overload. This is also the disconnect we're seeing politically when words don't mean what we know them to mean and we're left to create the bridge between our intellect and the rest of ourselves. Later there was a drug commercial asking if I'm having trouble sleeping. Hmm. I wonder why?

Meetings

I'm not sure why this happens so often in L.A. and I never experienced this in New York, but meetings get rescheduled between one and three times each here. You cannot take this personally even though you may have scheduled your entire life around the meeting, stayed up all night about it, and prepared yourself for days for it. And even though usually it's a meeting that's very important, the strangest one I experienced was one I didn't even ask for. There was a girl I knew from New York who was an executive out here when I arrived. I got a mass email from her with a "just moved" new address that included three names. So, I popped her an email back congratulating her on her marriage and baby. I got an email back from her assistant to schedule a lunch. Surprised by the impersonal response but giving her the benefit of the doubt (she was a working mom after all) I communicated with her assistant and put something "in the calendar." The morning of our lunch, not only did the assistant email again but she said that we had to reschedule and offered me a date three weeks from then. Honestly, I didn't even really want to meet for lunch even though now it was implied that she was doing me a favor and yet I felt roped in so I rescheduled. The morning of that lunch the assistant emailed, this time with a date six weeks away since "unfortunately, that's her first available." I told the assistant I would be on a huge job then and wouldn't have time to eat. A year later I ran into my friend, the executive, at an event. She gave me a big hug and asked, "Did we ever get together?" I said, "Yes."

Art

I'm reading a self-improvement type book and the chapter about feng shui asks, "If you came into your home would you feel welcome?" The answer was so "no" that I was probably reading that chapter in a coffee shop. But as you may already know, when I get it in my head to change furniture around at 3 in the morning, I'll do it at 3 in the morning. Immediately, I conducted full-on home improvement including decluttering, cleaning, repainting, and last but not least... putting art up on my walls. Until now I have been art-reluctant, almost art-phobic, because for some reason it's implied settling in, but with this new angle of just making things more welcoming, I was ready. I went to Urban Outfitters and got vinyl album cover frames and then to my pleasant surprise had the most fun chore ever: to find great looking record albums to go in them. Between Amoeba and the Fairfax flea market, I noticed that jazz, soul, and funk fit in best in my place. I love everything about them now that they're up -- and also surprising, rather than make me feel stuck or homesick, they make me feel more like I'm surrounded by friends. Sarah Vaughn, The Ramsey Lewis Trio, Lena Horne, The Commodores with Lionel Richie, (oh and The Monkees), are not only welcoming they also happen to be talented, aesthetically pleasing, and know how to use cool fonts that compliment my furniture.

State of Mind

Friends and I were talking at brunch about unfair parking tickets and the absurd 72 hour rule where, if your car hasn't moved in 72 hours, it can be considered abandoned and ticketed. One friend said, "In L.A. everything is learned the hard way." It's so true and I think this contributes to a strong spirit or a disheveled mess depending how long you hold out. I'm not sure in which state this woman was yesterday when I pulled up to a stop sign where she was waiting to cross the street. Her dog tugged her back so she waved me on instead, and out of the corner of my eye I wondered, "Did she dye her dog's coat pink?" I looked in the rear view mirror and saw that she was walking a pig.

Happy Blog-iversary

It's been a busy few weeks with some article deadlines (I'll be posting one of them when it's officially published about dating in NY vs. L.A.) some screenplay rewrites, and a friend's wedding in NYC. Tonight, in L.A., I was out seeing Mark Ronson perform/spin and thought about how much things have changed in the last year. And then I realized it's been one year since I started this blog. I remember when I started it wondering whether there'd be a year's worth of stories, culture shock, and adjustment. Clearly, the answer is yes. But I will say even though it's 1:45 a.m. and I'm awake (having not adjusted to the early bird time difference yet), and I still wasn't sure about the parking meters/signs and whether we'd be towed when we got back to the car, there was a lot that went smoothly today. And in terms of the Pull Back Effect in a positive way, a friend of a friend just moved to town and this morning got in contact to find out how to get started here. I should also let you know that my dear friend drove tonight which, if you've been following this blog, meant I could have a drink for once. If I were drunk blogging though, I think this would be funnier.

History

At Marquee in New York a man approached and said, "Everything that's going on here, your smile, your boots, everything, it's you. It's who you are, I can see it, and it's refreshing." He wouldn't accept a thank you, said I just needed to know it, and walked away. The next day I was thinking about this while walking on the upper west side. I ran into an old friend from college and then another old friend from a writing class years ago. Then I got a call from a friend in L.A. I told her what the nice bar man said and she said (speaking in universal terms), "That's the difference between New York and L.A. In New York, you're you and it's appreciated. In L.A. you're you and it's not enough." (Hmm. I hope she was speaking in universal terms.) Another friend pointed out another interesting difference during this NY trip. She said while in L.A. a bar is popular for what's hot at the moment, in NY, history, like McSorely's for example, is considered a good thing.

You

Even though nearly everywhere you go in LA you have to get validation for your car, it's dangerous to be in LA looking for validation for yourself. You don't want to get your self-esteem attached to other people's decision making. It can make any incredibly self-sufficient, action-taking, highly accomplished New Yorker feel desperate, unfairly treated, and exhausted.
So. Here are things that can trip your self-esteem and how to cut it off at the pass:
1. Decisions that determine your career seem to be in your control. (If you only did that one thing differently, knew more people, had an agent...) It's an environment where you may not feel 'good enough' so it's important to know decision-making here can be incredibly arbitrary.
2. Your values might change without you. Where it was once satisfying to wear the same sneakers every day just so you could do what you love, now suddenly you're wondering why you too don't have the best car, the most money, the highest status, the meanest attitude. It is important to know that soaking up other people's values is inevitable in any group dynamic (a community, a family, a city), so check in with yourself to see if those things are really what you want and if so, change your goals. But don't just feel bad that you don't have something that really doesn't matter to you.
3. Becoming jaded, jealous, angst-ridden. Be aware of the people you meet and spend time with. Stay away from naysayers. Hearing "congratulations" through someone's tone of resentment can go right into your subconscious. Every one of these subtle exchanges tells you that it's dog eat dog, baby. And quickly you can catch this flu. When I first arrived I had just done "The Artists Way" so I was very secure and positive, and my understanding of LA was that the work is out here, that's why we come here. I felt deep down that there's plenty of room for everyone. It didn't even occur to me that I wouldn't get work and I got two jobs right away. Quickly I learned that the people of Hollywood love to use grandiose statements like "There's nooo money" "No one's working" "No one's buying". "How'd you get that [job]?!" It is important to hear these statements as not helping and frankly, unfounded. I have no idea why people love to sound like experts with blanket statements.
4. Yes, there is a system here that's very different than working in the industry in New York. You will learn it as you experience it (and through reading some of the essays below). To keep grounded and energized, here's what I suggest: 1. Stay disciplined in what it is you initially came to do so you don't feel far off track. (Even if you get a day job plan your schedule on paper to include time for your true passion.) 2. Before you go to any job, meeting, or event, decide what you want to get out of the process. Not the result. Often here results can be underwhelming, as opposed to in NY where results are often pleasant surprises (Because of walking and having that freedom for spontaneous adventure. I also find people more loyal and helpful in NY - see essays below for reasons.) In LA, often the result will not equal the sum of it's parts or the work you put into it. But the process is all you so you can feel successful in terms of what you personally wanted to accomplish in steps along the way.
3. Keep a passion project going to remind you of the inspiration that got you doing what you're doing in the first place.
4. Meet with friends you trust to keep each other moving towards accomplishing goals.
5. Create a way to congratulate yourself for your incremental successes. It is too easy to let those pass by and forget all the work you've done if there's nothing to show for it.
6. Keep in mind that with every dream comes a lifestyle.
7. Keep a Validation List of all you've accomplished (even if it's making a tough phone call or memorizing a monologue) so you can get as good at validating yourself as you do for your car.

(ps. Thanks for your note, Helen!)

So New York

Since I've been in New York for a bachelorette party and wedding this week I've noticed these things: 1. Men in suits and they're not agents! 2. Intellectual stimulation. 3. Some people don't even notice rain. At one point today I sat on a step with my laptop and cell phone because it was a dry spot and I had to get some work done before I met up with a friend. It happened to be a synagogue and the man who unlocked the door invited me to work inside. He directed me to the second pew from the back (specifically pointed out) and when I was done we said goodbye but first talked about our families and our pasts, in fact his son lives in San Diego. Later I told my friend about it and we agreed it was so New York. What is that quality about a situation in New York that makes it "so New York"? Is it the act of connecting with kind, interesting people with accents while on a mini-adventure? Like one Grammy night when my friend and I left my apartment on a $1.50 subway ride and came home at sunrise in a limo? I just realized even when I've had small adventures in L.A. I can't help but say they were "so New York". If I said it was "so L.A." it would imply writers with laptops at a coffee shop.

Parallel Parking

When I got to L.A. I had to remember how to drive. I hadn't been behind the wheel since NJ, really, and during the ten years in NY I only drove when I rented a car for a trip once and as a production assistant in the early days. I'd forgotten that I'd forgotten the whole parallel parking thing, so my first time took some starting and restarting. Totally embarrassing but fortunately no one was around. Or were they? A woman started criticizing and directing me from her second story window and since I was in a convertible I couldn't avoid hearing her loud and clear. We had this ridiculous dialogue through the non-roof of my car and her silhouette due to the sun. I told her I was fine, I was just new from New York and needed practice. Finally she backed off, I remembered the lining-up-of-their-mirror-to-my-mid-back-window trick, and got it parked without interruption. Relieved, I got out, set the alarm and heard, "Good job. Don't worry. I'll be here when you leave." Great.

A Must See (Or Hear)

There are two times since I've been in L.A. that I've felt this kind of inspiration. The first was when I attended a Simpsons' table read. The second was tonight, seeing Joe Frank perform. Seeing him read is like being in the presence of a legendary jazz musician. He's not only a pro but his style of storytelling is alive, emotional, funny in its humanity, and unpretentious. (How 'bout that in L.A.?) I originally discovered Joe Frank on my Walkman on the corner of 79th & Amsterdam in NYC. WFMU went in and out depending on where I walked but the sassy and smooth cocktail-party-style music Joe uses as his backdrop got me curious. And when I heard his unrushed voice and dry humor I couldn't help but hear every next moment of the story (this one was about how he had to write a story for that day's show but his ex kept calling) and I stood in place for the next ten minutes so I wouldn't lose the signal. Tonight he performed at Largo, the first in four shows, and he's accompanied by live musicians. New York-y and fantastic.
(If you can't get to see him, download him.)

A Hot Day

I tried I tried I tried I tried I tried. I tried to be adjusted. Today, though, the New Yorker in me couldn't help but honk in traffic and argue with garage attendants about the absurdity of a time limit on parking when I'm shopping in their building. Alright, so the party I just got back from had a view from the deck of an orang-y moon overlooking a shimmering lake and there were some really cool people there. Still, the most exciting thing that happened today was when I ran into a friend and he accidentally tripped, spilling his iced-tea all over my white shirt and light blue skirt. I laughed so hard and it was so hot outside I thanked him for it.

Juggling Bicyclist

Juggling bicyclist in NY = eccentric, possibly homeless
Juggling bicyclist in L.A. = career driven, possibly rehearsing

East vs. West

Twizzlers vs. Red Vines.
Red Hooded Sweatshirt vs. Red Hoodie.
No cilantro vs. Overused cilantro (plus a west coast division of cilantro lovers vs. haters).
Blue jays and robins (birds) vs. Bird of Paradise (the plant).
Houses painted peach, yellow, or orange vs. Houses painted white.

Oh and so, so much more to scroll down and read about.

Earthquake vs. Bank Hold-Up

The other night I felt it. An earthquake rumbled, my bed trembled, and I woke up swearing I was either going to back to NYC or finding a boyfriend asap. Surprisingly I fell back to sleep quickly, things were fine, and the next morning I thought about situations that can take a person off guard, even if they're not really that scary. That's when I remembered that I was once in a bank hold-up. It was during college in New York, midday, just before photography class. I hadn't had time that week to complete what required off-campus 35mm shooting but I did have an hour to run an errand. Other weeks the assignments I'd been able to complete were "portraits", "nature", and "sports". This week, no joke, it was "news". With my Nikon around my neck, in case I happened to see anything interesting on the way back that I could shoot as journalistic, I entered the bank and sat at a desk with an employee who started the paperwork to open my new account. My back was to the teller windows, there was vague yelling coming from there, and then a heavy silence. The employee looked up, I understood what was going on, and then I considered sneaking out. The idea of leaving wasn't fear based, it was more so surreal I felt like this-just-isn't-my-scene-maybe-I-should-go. Besides, I had just watched a re-run of Charlie's Angels (I later told the detective this when he asked whether I could prove what time it was), so I might have had more moxie than usual. My thoughts were consumed with my camera. It was right there. My mind raced between "I could save the day", "Making a sudden move could be a big mistake", and "Easy 'A'." When it came to the reality of the robber running past me and out, I hid the camera on my lap under my jacket. A manager calmly walked into the room saying almost routinely, "everyone stay calm, I'm gonna lock the doors, the police are on their way." After a detective questioned me about what I saw (I'm sure I was a terrible witness considering I now remember him as having a pipe and trench coat) I had to wait until the other customers were questioned before I could leave. Duh. Still a 1/2 hour till deadline. I took out my camera, and from my seat which was practically front row to where they were all talking, I snapped photos of the police investigation. Apparently you can't take photos in a bank so they confiscated the film, unlocked the door, and allowed me to go. At the end of the semester we were able to drop one incomplete assignment from our final grade. Guess which one, ridiculously enough, I had to pretend never happened...?

Brand Loyalty

It's strange to go to a supermarket in a new place and realize they never even heard of the brands you've been using your whole life. I felt like I was on another planet when I first moved to L.A. and couldn't find basic condiments like Hellmann's mayonnaise. (I just looked it up on-line and it says "known as Best Foods west of the Rockies") And how could a store not know what duck sauce is? It has continued to both surprise and amuse me that things I assume are common nationwide, especially when it comes to retro pop-culture, can be regional. For example, get this, not everyone knows: "Time to make the donuts...", The Magic Garden, or "PIX PIX PIX PIX PIX".

Tenting

To get rid of termites here they fumigate. I'm not talking exterminate -- like in New York when the exterminator comes in and squirts behind the stove. For this, tenants have to cover and hide their things and temporarily move out while the building gets tented. And when I say tented I mean the entire building gets covered in a huge tent. This was hard for me to grasp until the building on my corner was dressed up like The Big Top with a tent of thick pink and white stripes. My first thought was: why couldn't they at least design the tent to look like a building?

Farmers' Markets

Farmers' Markets are basically stands selling fresh fruit, vegetables, and flowers, and they appear in different areas of L.A. on different days. This is not to be confused with The Farmer's Market which is connected to The Grove and has a fresh fruit stand, a store devoted to stickers (?), a bar, and an outdoor but shaded maze-like food court. That one stays put whereas the ones that appear for one day a week pop up in Larchmont, Santa Monica, West Hollywood, and many other areas that I have no desire to research. A Farmers' Market is also not to be confused with a Flea Market or a Street Fair -- especially those in New York where they sell sweatsocks, smoothies, and shwarma.

Post-DOA

Please note: for full commiseration and information read the entries from bottom up. If you don't, today's could harm you in its simplicity and shallow nature -- (but it is, after all, the first since my Day of Adjustment.) *Celebrities seen this weekend: Alicia Silverstone, Victor Garber, Jon Henson, Sean Hayes, Jeff Goldblum. *Learned: NY doesn't have to have dots in between the letters like L.A. does. *On the east coast we call them 'sneakers', apparently here they're shoes named by function ie. 'running shoes' or 'tennis shoes'. *Yearly west coast events I never heard of on the east coast: Burning Man and Comic-Con.

Adjusted?

It's days like today where the work itself (for the me the writing, and right now a screenplay), is so intoxicating, so satisfying, so inspiring, that being a New Yorker in L.A. doesn't feel like a struggle, it actually feels secondary to who I am as a writer. As long as I get to do this work it might not matter that I had to just repark my car three times because it didn't fit in the spot after I removed the key, put The Club on the wheel, set up the sunshade, locked the door, and got out. Each time. It might not matter that I can't concentrate right now because my neighbors are rehearsing a rhyming play in unison. Over and over. And over and over and over and over. In adjusting it's important to remember that the reason most of us New Yorkers came out here is to do the work and at its best the isoL.A.tion, the system, and the identity bootcamp of it can help us figure out who we are and what we will or won't tolerate, and get us to find our voice rather than lose it in the process. It's then (and about four years in my case) that the creativity can flourish. Note to self: may not be positive attitude -- also result of drinking caffeine.

Getting Past the Bouncer

My friends told me I'd need to use the password "yo ho ho" at the pirate-themed bar where we were meeting. Turns out this bar also has no sign, a locked door, and a guy who sticks his face up to a small opening in the door to receive the code. I said, "Yo ho ho". He said, "The password changed." I tried "Arrgh?" Nope. (Arrgh.) My friends yelled hello from inside so he offered up a clue: "The group of bad guys in Karate Kid." Caught up in finally being able to use this knowledge I insisted, "I know this one. Don't even open the door." At this point he wanted to let me in, said it rhymed with something or other, but I was too busy pacing. Put on the spot to think 'Sweep the leg, Johnny' rather than 'Hoist the sail, Matey' I couldn't even conjure up 'Zabka'. Finally, he told me, I repeated it, and as he checked my ID I told him how many times I'd seen the movie. He didn't care. I'd already missed out on the cred which I'm sure was only important to me. I got inside where there were three people in the entire place including my two friends and me. I kind of think the password should have been "You're the Best Around" -- or at least the only people around.

Bugs

Roaches in NY, fruit flies in L.A. I've only seen one or two roaches on the sidewalk at night here but when it comes to fruit flies, one or two will come on the scene moments after a piece of fruit leaves a grocery bag and sits on the counter. Then these tiny, harmless guys disappear when the garbage is tossed. Unless, of course, it's me and I just need to clean up. Which, if I were someone named Raven, apparently I'd need to. A friend and I were walking towards Venice beach when a guy across the street yelled to us waving hello: "Raven... Raven... Raven!" Clearly he thought he recognized one of us, not to mention he was wasted. He crossed the street like we were all buddies. "Raven," he looked at me with a nod and approving smile, "you clean up nice!"

Identity

I noticed today that I'm liking my Brita water filter and that even though I had to stop in to my eye doctor's office twice it wasn't as frustrating tackling errands as it used to be. I'm looking forward to my run later which I'm appreciating because of the good weather, and last night a new-to-towner and I agreed how cool it is that people are always willing to make new friends here. This is a rare day: I'm not annoyed. Just when I thought I might be adapting, a friend brought up an interesting thing. He said one thing he likes about it here is people don't feel the need to make L.A. an integral part of who they are like people do with New York in New York. Hmm. Am I one of those people he's talking about? I mean, he's not wrong. I make New York an integral part of who I am in both places. New York City is an entire entity to me. Family. A team I'm on. I go back to visit people but, admittedly, I also go back to visit the city itself. I wonder: do New Yorkers need to make New York an integral part of who we are? Or do we like to do it? Is it any different than people who use their postcollege.com emails way after college to let us know that their school is behind them, or someone who wears a band's t-shirt and puts posters up to feel like they stand for something? How about a person who identifies themselves by the company they work for, quotes the bible, or wears a Lakers' cap? Are our identities made up of the things we identify with or are these things a shorthand to explain who we already are? Maybe the fact that the history of my identity is on the east coast, including growing up in New Jersey before my adult New York life, explains why adjusting to life in L.A. has been so tricky and I should just get over it. Or maybe it's because of everything that's so hard to get used to and ridiculous to tolerate that has only so far required 105 f*cking essays to explain that does it. (Oh, and I was being so appreciative.)