When commuting in L.A., mired in a 3-hour bumper-to-bumper quagmire, you’re left with a lot of time listening to NPR, KiSS FM, and your thoughts.
A lot of these blog posts were written while I was sitting behind the wheel, with my foot pressing and releasing the brakes. But, it’s been a year since I’ve stopped driving. And, you all know (because I assume that all two of you wait anxiously by your Feedly for new updates from this blog) that I love my car. The only thing that would keep me from caressing my vanilla beige leather seats in my dark cherry red Lexus every day would be a seriously unaffordable parking fee. And that, my dear readers, have happened because I moved to NYC.
Since moving there have been so many blog entries I wanted to write but didn’t: listing the many differences between Angelenos and New Yorkers, an angry come-of-New-Yorker moment when the romantic black-and-white idea of cobblestones quickly dissipates once you take every heel you own to the cobbler, an ode to the tiny hole of an apartment that I’ve torn apart and repackaged as home. But none of them could materialize into blog form what with the many thought-interruptions that happen on an average commute in the city. Once, I was so engrossed in a homeless man’s narrative of his plight from Sandy and its residual effects on his life that I missed my stop and ended up in Brooklyn. (This actually happened twice — two different homeless men.) Other times I’m squeezed in the train tighter than dough through a pasta cutter that I don’t have the space to think anything besides trying to decide whether wedging my body in between the two large men sideways is better than straight front-to-back.
Alas, the plethora of blog ideas didn’t seem to fit under this paradigm that I couched all my often-bitter rants of life’s hard-learned lessons as a 20-something. The “Minidramas of a 21-Year-Old” has been renamed four times now, and it continues to be tragically incorrect. So, it’s time to bid adieu and come up with something new.
A blog that perhaps isn’t as cheesy as: “The Angeleno’s Guide To NYC Life” or “An LA Girl In The Big Apple.” If you have any ideas, hit me up.