05 October 2011

baby, you don't know my mind

A lot has been happening each month recently.

September:

  • I was offered a fantastic one-bedroom apartment in Pasadena on the 8th. Thank the stars my landlord knew someone who wanted to rent my apartment - she accepted it on the spot, I got to give only 3 weeks notice instead of the usual 4, and didn't have to do a stitch of work showing it to anyone.
  • I flew to England on the night of September 21st, lost 1/3 of a day in transit, and then began the best vacation in memory. It was my first trip there in five years - I hadn't even started at Scripps when I was there last, and then it was only for two days on a trip through Europe with my mom and sister. This time, my suddenly-grown-up 22 year old cousin got married in the countryside. The wedding was a complete ball. My family was all together in England for the first time in almost ten years and we had a lush time. We were based in Wickwar most of the week, with trips to Cirencester, Bristol and London at the end. I drank the best tea of my life and started considering moving to England (for many reasons, not just for the tea).
  • On the 10-hour flight to Heathrow I discovered my new favorite album of the month which I have, literally, been listening to on repeat: "Let Them Talk" by Hugh Laurie. THE Hugh Laurie. It's New Orleans blues. Really!
  • Two days after flying back to the US, I moved into my new apartment. I spent three days driving back and forth between Silver Lake and Pasadena in my little car packed to the brim with stuff. Many, many car trips later and one particularly eventful terrible Friday evening with a Budget rental truck (tore down a cable line, couldn't back out the truck from the parking lot, smashed the overhead cab into a tree, got a ticket for parking illegally, and found a $100 bill upon returning the truck to the rental office parking lot at midnight), I was moved in. I'm mostly unpacked except for my books (for lack of a bookshelf) and my inner housewife is coming out. I'm scooping up used furniture to round out my large living room space and I'm growing more and more fond of the apartment each day.

    I really want to live in England for a period of time in my twenties. It's been a dream of mine since I was in high school, and finally getting out of the US rekindled the dream. I'm thinking about how to make this happen while continuing to pursue my goal of working in nutrition. (I don't think I've written about this yet. Next time.) Grad school, maybe? Coming back to the US - particularly to Los Angeles, on the smoggiest day so far of the year - felt wrong. I miss the nature of their British people, their connection to history, sensibleness. Their wicked sense of humor. The way the accent slides off the tongue, and hops off into the air. The green fields of the countryside, the passing clouds and raindrops, the old streets. The little cars. The healthy attitudes about life. There's something so interesting about being an American in England, but also having a bit of Englishness in me. Being there as an adult - for the first time - was enlightening. (As was taking a real vacation. Except unreal in that I didn't spend a dime that week. That's definitely part of why it was such a great trip). I'm also unduly influenced by the awesomeness of my British relatives, and perhaps by Downton Abbey, which I must remind myself is not real. Not all the English are so wonderful, I'm sure!

    Back to moving: I went through a mourning period with my apartment in Silver Lake. It was a fantastic little place and because I moved by choice, I had to deal with thoughts of wondering whether I made the right decision to leave at all. After all, it had a beautiful bay window, built-in furniture like a kitchen nook and bookshelves, a front door that could be left open all the time, an adorable pink-tiled bathroom, two huge closets... why give that up? Why move in the first place? Because Silver Lake didn't feel like home. I didn't fit in like I wanted to in my own neighborhood. After 2 years, I still felt like a visitor on an extended stay. It's too hip for me there. I'm not hip, and I'm okay with that. (We are all so much better than 'hip'!) And I've always loved Pasadena, ever since I first "escaped" Claremont to come here during college, wandering around the Norton Simon on a rainy day in my new cream Nine West coat (literally, see the 1/30/07 entry). Almost five years later (!), I live here. I'm young, and it's fun to move when you're young. (Except for the actual moving. That sucks and makes you wish you'd never moved at all.)

    The first day or two in Pasadena, exhausted from carrying everything I own up and down stairs, surrounded by boxes, not knowing where anything was, still reeling from the horrors of the truck rental, I must admit I was worried I was going to regret it. Now, though, almost one week at my new place, I'm completely satisfied with the move. Yes, the new place doesn't have a private patio or a front door that can be left open when I'm home. But what does it have? A bedroom door that can be shut to keep cat hair off the bed and out of Kevin and I's noses. Five tall windows that face south and east, letting in lots of light all day. A large kitchen with lots of cupboard space, counter space, and two side-by-side sinks. A real living room area, a real dining room area, and a real bedroom. The second floor, so I can leave windows open at night with no worries. Gated parking in a very busy, parking-spot-scarce area. More floor space overall. Gated parking with a designated spot - a premium in LA. Easy driving/biking/bus access to lots of great neighborhoods. A five-minute drive to work, and a not-much-longer bike ride. Less storage space, which, paradoxically, means more meaningful decisions about what to bring into my house. Sure, there are some things to work out. The tired old little fridge, and the horrific wallpaper in the kitchen. The three separate keys I need to get into my apartment (outside gate, the building's front door, my apartment door). But it's a grownup apartment. Not that I feel like a grown up. But I can start pretending. What is home? Place? Purpose?