Hello Goodbye

I have a theory...

But more on that later.

I met life’s epicenter for about 18 days. We sat down. Had a cup of coffee. The epicenter is pretty nice-had a lot to say. And it was about a 45 day journey to meet up. Full of potential psychological breaks.

Legit: exhausting. amazing. bittersweet. tough. beautiful. etc.

And I say go go go, oh no…

I set out to fulfill an LA bucket list, say goodbye, eat steak dinners, job search, apartment search, spin, leave a job, train a new employee, hike, indulge in a Korean spa, grasp taxes & invoices, master obamacare & cobra & Western Union, pack, spin some more (in various ways), indulge in a Chinese massage, say goodbye and I say hello. Hello hello.

I was tired.

Exhaustion is likely responsible for prolonging the “is this fo realz?!” feeling. But my cross-country drive propelled me forward. Carried by my family through the stages of it all. From sea to shining sea. Thank you dad for the drive. I needed someone to interrupt Epicenter. It had overstayed its welcome.

Los Angeles > Palm Springs > Joshua Tree (Integratron) > Vegas (Paris) > Hoover Dam > Flagstaff > Grand Canyon > Albuquerque > Sante Fe > Lubbock > Austin (Stubb's BBQ)> New Orleans (Dick&Jenny's) > Carrollton > Atlanta (The Optimist, as always) >  hello. goodbye. > …

Saying goodbye is really something though. Not only to people but to a version of myself. To a world I may never be part of again. To an experience or stage that may feel like a fuzzy, dusty dream one day.

Between LA desert weather, transplanted nomadic friends, my slow orientation there is some dust and some fuzz. A fear I may have already dropped the needle.

heLA hey helloa

heyLA hey helloa Cha Cha Cha

heyLA hey helloa whoooooo

Let the vinyl spin out. Isn’t that life anyways?

Regardless, I spun for 18 days. An unreal stretch. A beautiful, silent cacophony.

100% in every direction of my life.

past.present.future . professional.social.emotional.physical

My now old roommate (I hate saying ex-roommate) said that she read something recently claiming “27 to be the year big life decisions happened.” I believe they’re referred to as milestones. Or clubs. Sadly.

Janis Joplin. Jimi Hendrix. Jim Morrison. Kurt Cobain. Amy Winehouse

27 & music is simultaneously timeless and a reference of time. A weird sort of gravitational pull down the rabbit hole. Quite possibly my only quasi tangible reminder LaLaLand exists.

As goodbye gifts, I bought various people albums that helped center me there. Their titles appear to be an analogy for my 27th year: Up From Below. Hang on Little Tomato. Fear Fun. Spice of Life. 

Now, back to my theory.

Quick side note, I have not talked about food once this blog. UnHEARDof. And, I just killed a couldhavebeenalive cockroach.

Ok, theory cont…

Within the past 2.something years I traveled to&from all my favorite people&places while living way out west. To me, LA weather was like something out of the Truman show (Described as satirical social science fiction). It never changed. I traveled to DC, Chicago, New Orleans, Atlanta and although nice weather through each visit, each departure was met by a massive down pour (or polar vortex equivalent).

Now. There has been a state-wide concern over the scarcity of rain in California. This recent drought ended the day of my movers arrived.

A monsoon.

You say why and I say I don’t know, oh no

And finally a week after my move and sleep enough to make up for 2.something years, I cried. A release. Not a monsoon but a nice shower.

I let the needle drop. And it’s singing some beautiful tunes.

I say goodbye and I say hello