Life's our oyster and we're gonna suck that bitch down with a champagne chaser.



  • Behavioral Therapist
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  • BS Psychobiology/ French, UCLA




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Sunday, September 21, 2008  
Lost in Transition Part I: Escape from L.A.
Being the hopeless nostalgic I am, I create attachments to the simplest and most mundane of things and experiences, as well as to to objects and people of (some) substance. As some of you may have figured out by now, I am no longer on the West Coast. Indeed, I have migrated to the wilderness of the East Coast for some reason. As such a transition is a big deal for yours truly, being that I had lived in the same room for the past 14 years, my final two weeks in Los Angeles were filled with needless, in most cases, anxiety and nostalgia. I attributed emotion to things that need not be attributed any emotion in the slightest. My last time pumping gas, my last time going to the Beverly Center (the ugliest man-made structure on the western seaboard) and my last time going to the 99 cent store. Some things garnered meaning for me over the years because of the routine of them such as sitting in my black rocking chair and waking up to my mom listening to NPR on Sunday mornings. Other things such as my mother's cooking and general mode of take-care-of-my-problems, as well as my beloved Mustang and the usual LA hangouts still bring me their share of panic attacks today.

As I was saying goodbye to the city I grew up in, aspects of the city seemed to be bidding me adieu in their own respects. My final trip to the 99 Cent Store in preparation for my goodbye party was lackluster as it usually is, despite the candy. However, one thing LA is never short on is the crazies, religious and secular alike. Keeping with that theme, an older Hispanic lady was shopping and at the same time discussing Jesus with other customers of the fine institution. Hearkening back to my days of riding the MTA buses in highschool, whenever a particularly mentally afflicted individual would ride the bus (as was the case on every single ride, no exception) and would proceed to talk to themselves and/or others, the typical mode of conduct was to either sit elsewhere on the bus or pretend to read. This was before the age of iPods, you see so that was not a viable source for avoidance. In any case, at the 99 Cent Store that afternoon, I observed the aforementioned woman berating customers and then speaking in tongues quite loudly. Normally, I would veer away from such unsavory individuals, but this time, I stood in wait, hoping she would come talk to me and lend me her wisdom...

"Do joo believe in Jesus?!"
"Yes, of course I do!"
"You know de Jesus die for jor sins?"
"I know!!"
"He is our lord n' savior!"
"I know!"
"Through heem do we find de salvacion!"
"I know!!!!!"
"Heekala bena shakala"
"Awesome."

As she imbued me with her magic air cross and spoke to me in tongues while I was squeezing avocadoes, what normally would induct me with anxiety and overwhelming feeling of awkwardity now filled me with a sense of some kind of twisted accomplishment. (Author's Note: Since when did the word "awkward" become the default term to refer to any situation. The saying "awwwkwaaard" has grown in usage and needs to be stopped.) I have grown to relish in these sorts of situations as of late. I know it takes some degree of exploitation of other people but realistically, I am not mocking these people, I am just relating to them on a different level that I do not normally inhabit.

If I was seeking to escape the population of the crazy, nuts and all messed up, I picked the absolutely wrong city to do so in. From the Jamaican lady at Rite-Aid on Broadway and 100th screaming, "Open up another till mahn! This is bullsheet! Stohp slackin!" to the man growling like a dog while eating a sandwich in Columbus Circle to the obese wheelchair mafia at Target in the Bronx to my Artistic Lives of Children professor who has me dance with a scarf to the sweet girl at Teachers College who greeted me by saying, "I just really wanted to meet you," there is no shortage of all levels of blissful crazy in this town.

I want to be a part of it - New York, New York,
These vagabond shoes, are longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it - New York, New York.
11:43 PM
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