There is no easy way to begin this. So I’ll just dive in.
I’ve stifled my narrative voice for some time now… most of my mid-twenties. I’ve kept it on a shelf, next to books on narrative, hoping I could make myself into an analyst as opposed to some sort of key actor.
But lets not fool ourselves. Life is too short to be constantly analyzing in the third person.
I have decided to begin for three main reasons:
- Life is more fun when in story form. Particularly adventure story. And while it’s true that I don’t live the most glamorous captivating life, being able to reflect on the mundane realities seems more fun than just turning on Netflix, making popcorn and passing out.
- My post-adolescent whiny phase is over. (I hope.) I left a lot of that in the nations capital, along with the 24th, 25th, and 26th years of my life. While I have intentions to visit the district again, I have no intention of revisiting that angsty area of my life. So if I begin to brood, I give you, dear reader, full permission to yell “snap out of it!” at the screen. And hope I hear you.
- This is the most important reason. I have a terrible memory, and know that there will come a day when I will want to look back and remember what life was like at age 27, unmarried, vegan, hopelessly idealistic, completely broke, in Los Angeles.
So let’s begin with that.
I decided to move across the country almost exactly 6 months ago. In the span of 2 weeks, I packed up all of my stuff that I could fit into a car, gave away everything else, and drove across the country to a city I’ve only seen in movies. No I don’t want to be an actor/model/musician/famous. I left the District of Columbia and headed to Los Angeles for…. a non-profit job.
Oh hello, Irony.
I’ve been wondering for quite sometime now when LA will begin to feel like home. I have an urge to buy paintings, bright woven rugs, plants and lamps… pretty much anything I can think of to make it feel more cozy. But buying things isn’t really going to help and I know it.
This aside, I am happy. I’m happier here than I’ve been in a long time, anyway. The sun is always shining, 50 degrees F is “freezing” and I live a mile from the ocean. I get paid to inspire young people to become environmental leaders. 16-year old me would be so proud. It’s not perfect– some day, I’ll shoot for something that maybe allows me to eat more than beans and rice– but it’s great for now. I feel like I have a purpose, and that I’m actually working on something that makes a tangible positive impact in the world. That’s all I think anyone in my generation can really hope for.
I’m off to make those lentils and rice.