Feb 6, 2010
I grew up in Los Angeles, CA but it’s never quite the same for me whenever I return. I have so many different LA experiences that I never know which one is the legitimate one. I was raised in the San Fernando Valley in a suburban home, with suburban parents looking for the American dream. They found it, thankfully, but it wasn’t my dream.
I lived a suburban life for much of my adolescence and then moved to Westwood and West Hollywood during my UCLA years. I cultivated a loving relationship with everything over the hill during those years, but then I graduated, and a powerful force motivated me to leave. I haven’t lived in Los Angeles since then. Usually I visit for one or two weeks at a time, stay in that suburban home, with my lovely suburban parents and settle into valley-living. Most days I abstain from leaving because I can’t fathom driving 35 minutes to meet friends at a bar. Then I sulk.
Yesterday I moved into luxury residences overlooking NW Los Angeles, and near Downtown. No, it’s not permanent. It’s temporary work housing that, to be clear, is completely unique in its swank. But it will be home for six weeks. Los Angeles is different from this vantage point. Everything seems so close. The mountains, ocean, Hollywood sign, skyscrapers of Century City, Santa Monica and Hollywood all appear to be within walking distance. I enjoyed the sunset from high above for the first time in a long time. The sky turned a reddish-orange with hints of brown, and clouds gravitated towards the sun as if it was time to run home. They say the smog is what gives us these gorgeous sunsets. I think 17-story apartments with balconies help too.
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