I feel a lot like a freshman in college all over again, except I’m about 100 times less scared. The first month of freshman year, I wouldn’t leave the apartment alone for any reason (I just hung out with Elspeth and we watched a whoooole lot of Buffy. Sometimes I’m amazed it took me a year and a half to realize I was meant to be a TV major).
The second month I wandered by myself, but it was mostly at night, with the bravado only an eighteen-year-old freshly freed from her parents can muster.
The third month I felt like I was home.
Four years, three majors and fifteen roommates later, I’m in LA, and I don’t have three months to make it feel like home. It helps that I know Whitney (roommate number fifteen) from school. It helps that she has a car. It helps that my dad came out to get me settled. It helps that I’m 22, not 18.
I walked to the grocery store today, once I got tired of staring at the blinking cursor on my computer and trying to figure out why the wife of the owner of a dog racing track would steal her husband’s dog. I walked down the street, swaying in the breeze and crunching through dead leaves on the sidewalk (LA looks like autumn, feels like summer and is actually winter).
I thought about what I enjoyed about this city, 4 days in. The only thing that came to my mind was the wonderful weather. Understandable, of course, as I grew up in Massachusetts and moved to Chicago for school. To me, January means snow. It means scarves, pea coats, and listening to the scrape-scrape-scrape of my father shoveling out the driveway.
Don’t get me wrong, I am enjoying myself immensely! Everything will fall into place when I start classes, I feel. For now, Whitney, her bf Marshall and I are just hanging out and being young.
(Though I can tell you what I don’t like about LA: the parking. It’s not a huge issue for me, since I don’t have a car, but my dad and I went to the Village District two nights ago to see a movie [True Grit, it was awesome] and we literally spent 15 minutes trying to find a parking space in several tiny, separate parking garages! I mean, what? Not to mention the fact that we sat in a lane, waiting to turn for, like, 10 minutes, trying to get into a parking spot, except no one would stop and let us pass. Of course, when Whitney and I went to the grocery store and we had very little trouble finding a parking spot, so I suppose it’s all about location.)