If I’m being honest, which I always try to be on my blog, I’ve been in a rut lately. I’ve been feeling down, low, just not great. I often have urges to just drop everything and move back to Rhode Island. Rhode Island is my safety net to Los Angeles, my tight rope 100 stories above the ground. I feel like an acrobat, swaying in the sky as I go step by step on my tight rope, hoping I won’t fall off.
I’ve said it before, and I will continue to say it because it’s true. Living in LA sucks. But… it’s also the best. It sucks because I constantly have to challenge myself, I am constantly sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for what might happen next. But, I also sort of love that feeling. I am rarely comfortable. Not as in physically comfortable – I live for comfortable clothing and am a connoisseur of fuzzy blankets. That’s not what I mean. I mean comfortable as settled. I am always learning new things in my career, my relationship, my life. I consider myself a lifetime learner, so if nothing new and challenging was ever thrown my way, boy would that be boring!
Desperately needing to escape LA, James and I were lucky to spend Sunday up in Pasadena, where we used to live. James booked a gig as a hair model for Bumble and Bumble hair products, so I decided to tag along for the ride. While he spent 3 hours in the studio, I had a blast romping around our old stomping grounds. I went into all of my favorite shops, and even took my favorite train into South Pasadena. There I spent an hour sitting in the corner window of a coffee shop watching the trains go by. Man, was I happy. In my old neighborhood, letting the sun shine down on me, just taking it all in.
Once our lease is up in August, James and I are getting the hell out of Pico-Robertson and moving back to South Pas.
We’ve come to the conclusion that the cause of our problems comes from our apartment, and our neighborhood. First and foremost, we are not wanted in our block of town. Pico-Robertson is an extremely jewish neighborhood. To clarify, James and I live in an orthodox jewish neighborhood. How did we end up here? I’m not sure. But they don’t like us. We stick out like really sore thumbs.
Have you ever lived somewhere where people didn’t like you just because of what you looked like or what your wore? Because of your name, the language you spoke? Well, it’s the worst.
So, lets start the countdown. Only 5 more months until we can be back in the wonderful neighborhoods of Pasadena, watching the trains go by.
Also, can we just talk about what a great job Bumble and Bumble did with James’ hair?? Is this my boyfriend?
take two 