Dear Friends in LA,
I guess you don’t suck as much as I thought you did.
Except for you, Mickey… you’re terrible.
Anyways, get ready for the “awww” part.
You make me feel like living in LA for a year wasn’t a total waste of my life… just a partial waste of my life.
It’s been real, but I think the time has come for us to split ways.
Normally, I would say “it’s not you, it’s me.” Hell, more often than not, it’s not even a lazy cliché I’m using.
It usually is my fault.
But this time? This time it’s on you.
If it’s not smog, it’s superficiality.
If it’s not pointless conversations about organic produce, it’s an equally meaningless discussion of who knows whom.
If it’s not endless traffic, it’s… well, you get my point.
But I don’t think this is entirely one-sided. I think, whether you admit it now or not, you’ll be glad to be rid of me, LA.
Hopefully we can both grow from this experience.
Dear Friends & Family,
I know Hallmark and Whitman’s would have you believe in such a thing as “unrequited love.” Well, I’m here to tell you, that is a fallacy. I’m not much of a romantic, but when in question, I will do just about anything for my friends. My friends are my family. I love my friends. Well, the closest I come to feeling love is how I feel about my friends.
That, dear readers, was all thrown into question last night.
As a dutiful roommate and good friend, when my buddy asked me to drive him to West Hollywood, I said, “sure, why not?”
Here’s why not.
After my car died, we finally got a charge, and we were ready to go. After a laborious make-up session (not on my part… I sat in the car and waited) we were finally ready to go. From North Hollywood to West Hollywood? Roughly 45 minutes.
The two folks I was giving a ride to were very appreciative and as we neared their final destination, I heard one of them say, “Not much more to go, we’re almost there!”
To which I gruffly replied, “No, no, no, you’re almost there. I still hafta get back home.”
I dropped them off, and they were very gracious.
I then proceeded to spend the next hour in my car, trying to drive the 5 miles to get back home.
That being said, I love my friends dearly, but they are sadly mistaken if they think I’m going to spend all of my night driving anyone 5 miles away. I’d like to think I’m a good friend, but even friendship has limitations.
Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t drive to WeHo on Halloween night… for anyone.
Dear LA Job Market,
I, uh, couldn’t help but notice the situation with your job postings, LA industry folks.
See, in order to apply for even an entry-level position, you require 1 to 2 years of job experience in the industry.
Now, if everyone requires that for their entry-level positions, how does one get 1 to 2 years of experience? See the conundrum here?
Dear Past Self,
Maybe I can help you out a little bit.
I’m sure this whole “moving to LA” thing must be very overwhelming, so lemme give you some advice based on my experience.
Get a tan. You’ve only been out here for about two weeks, but people keep looking at you like you’re Morticia Addams.
Develop an eating disorder before you get out here. Seriously, it’s practically a residency requirement. I’ve said it once before and I’ll say it again, this whole town is like one giant eating disorder.
Just a little life advice, I’m hoping you can use on your move out here.
Dear Guy at the Gas Station,
I’m not really comfortable with you staring.
Mainly cuz I don’t know what you’re staring at, but the whole “you making eye contact with me” thing is just kinda starting to freak me out.
See, I’m from Chicago. I was trained in the big city ways of never making eye contact with strangers and just looking down as you walk.
That’s the thing about LA. It’s a staring town.
Not sure why, but most people keep staring.
Whatever the reason, it’s taking some getting used to, and your intense eye-fucking isn’t doing anything to put me at ease, so please, just stop.
Dear Random Pedestrian,
I just wanted to take a moment out of my day to say thank you.
After being here almost two weeks, enduring my fair share of dirty looks and several cat calls, it was nice to finally encounter someone genuine.
I know it probably didn’t seem like much to you, but just the quick acknowledgement was easily the highlight of my run.
All you said was, “Excuse me, is that tattoo on your leg from Castle in the Sky?”
Well, it wasn’t, which I calmly and politely explained to you, before you complimented the detail and the artwork.
Didn’t take much. Our interaction couldn’t have lasted longer than a minute, but with that, my faith in the people of LA was restored, so thank you for that.