Remember me? Yeah, me neither.
The last time I wrote in this blog was literally over a year ago. I just passed my second year in L.A., and it feels like no time has passed at all, and like I've been here forever, all at the same time. Living in a place for two years is like, okay you live here now. L.A. is my home. And I fucking love it here.
If you were to catch me three weeks ago, I'd be telling you all about how much I hate everything. I mean, I don't really hate everything. Honestly I don't really hate anything, except Katy Perry. And most social mores. But other than that, I just find that taking on a dark sardonic tone about most things makes me funnier. Perhaps it's not the most genuine expression of how I feel all the time... But then again, maybe it is.
Three weeks ago I would have told you that I was really content. Not happy, just really glad to be in my place: busy desk job, cheap rent, single, lots of wine. I had just recovered from a terrible bout of feeling sorry for myself because I was lonely, but it was pretty much all gone by the time I decided I am all-powerful because I can create my own family in this day and age, and one day when all my friends are married with kids, I can be Whitney with kid, and then once the kid gets a little bit older it is pretty much obligated to keep me company. And that idea made me smile. It's almost like legal indentured servitude. You can buy companionship with a couple thousand dollars out of a test tube, or with a cheap bottle of tequila and your best gay friend. What's not to love about that idea?
Anyway, that was three weeks ago. The following week everything changed at the drop of a hat, which with me, is pretty much standard. Maybe it's like that with most people, because being content isn't what fate has in store for us, I think. So I found myself with another job offer, and (unrelatedly) wishing I had a more permanent boyfriend, someone who is just required to go to the grocery store with me and also sneak into Disneyland and also see drive-in movies and listen to sappy country music with me. (Instead I did all of these things with my bestie roommate, which was pretty fun still but I think he was also probably wishing his long-distance girlfriend were there.)
So, tomorrow is my last day at my first job that I had that I liked a lot, and also that I didn't get fired from or didn't leave because I felt like I was going to get fired. (I really am a good employee, just ask the place I left, because they practically begged me to stay, and also I hope no one from my old job or my new one reads this.)
So why leave? Well, a lot of it has to do with the roommate mentioned above, who reminded (...and convinced... and maybe ) me that the job I have now is great, but it's not where I want to be. I've gained a lot of experience (as a receptionist) and learned a TON (about finances), but this other job is in THE BUSINESS. That's right I'mma say it again: THE BUSINESS.
Do I really know what I want to do in said business (oh - I forgot not everyone is floating around in LA LA Land, I'm talking about the Entertainment Business)...? No not really. I mean really I want to be Tina Fey. But I'm also starting to realize that my personal experiences aren't necessarily going to make me just like her, and thats
So here it is, the confession: I am head over heels in love with ideas. Because they're part of the journey. And I've always been so focused on the destination, but seriously, who knows what's going to happen? I LOVE the way living in the moment makes me feel. It's scary. It's exciting. It's a little bit of imagination rolled into a lot of trusting yourself to jump. It's all the things I love, it's stars and ferris wheels, it's standing on stage.
Is this post similar to one I've written before? I don't even remember or care because I'm living so much in the moment right now.
Okay but sarcasm aside. I'm trying this new thing where I write in here more. Really, I want to be a writer, so I'm trying to read and write more because I hardly ever do. And also as part of my new career path and my present state of being, I'm gonna stop worrying so much about making an extraordinary discovery each time I write a post. Because, well two things, one I sort of made one here anyway and I wasn't even trying, and two, I don't write when I'm trying to say something relevant or interesting. So the next blog post you might see from me might be about pooping. It might. Honestly I've sort of always wanted to write a blog post about pooping so I'm going to do it.
Live in the moment.
...Where did I put my phone?
... Shit I left them in the last moment, so now I can't remember.
Next post: how to live in the moment while also not forgetting everything you ever did.
Or maybe, pooping: and why we don't talk about it.