Change of Scene

My current state of mind is in some beach town, a suburb of the larger Los Angeles metropolitan area where the beach is a short bike ride away. And, get this, beach cruisers are legitimately used here. There isn't some naive tiny Asian girl dreaming of a fantastic sequence of events that can happen while on her buttercup yellow bike...in the bay area hills. No, everyone who owns a beach cruiser not only uses it for the retro aesthetics, it fits the terrain of the land. This whole imagery of a Colbie Caillat music video totally has something to do with real life--or at least my version of it anyway.

Within the last three days I have been in Southern California, it has rained, become incredibly humid, and changed into an evening that required a few drinks at the bar so you can bear the sudden breeze from the ocean. Maybe this doesn't apply to all of the LA area (excuse: don't know I don't live here), but the ocean-side views and warm breeze make me want to slip into shorts and a floppy hat, play a Jason Mraz number on my banjo, and bike my beach cruiser down to the water. Keep in mind, this is all happening simultaneously and I will definitely be on some high. "Natural" happiness.

All of a sudden, while envisioning this scene as I bit into my Spinkles' red velvet cupcake that my dear friend bought to greet me, I realized I actually thought of living somewhere else other than the bay. Sure, I thought how New York would be, but all that place is is a romanticized version of Annie, Home Alone, and 30 Rock. Tina Fey and I would do musical numbers and play tricks on goofy criminals, while eating cupcakes from Magnolia's. Cupcakes are always a huge part of my fantasies. Anyway, with that being besides the point, the warm weather of SoCal didn't seem so bad in relation to the dreary bay, which I adore with every fiber of my being. See I think rain is good. For emo-ing out. And stalking. And definitely singing. Also, the rain allows for a type of self-assessment: am I an idiot for wearing flip-flops today? It teaches you lessons in bettering yourself. Be the best that you can be! There can only be one you! Love yourself for you are loved! HUG.

Stupid tangents. Continue less inane train of thought: Thinking of how SoCal could potentially be a home to my 18 chinchillas and myself, I had to think in terms of an adu--a rational adult. Who makes money at a job. And uses that money to pay bills. And buys big ticket items, like a car to commute to the city. Where these jobs are located. They all began to click in my head. The synapses are firing; message comprehend!

My goodness. If the nightlife were something to be envied, LEAVE ME HERE. So, Friday night, we attended a party in Hollywood at the House of Blues. Okay, first clubbing experience in that area should not include a crowd that was at least 18. I should have learned my lesson when Crystal, Garkay, and I went to Blake's (a bar/restaurant type place in Berkeley) when they had some form of college night. Drinks were being spilled left and right (some ended on us), dance floor was far too packed, and little boys were far too rowdy and grabby.

Same DEAL that night in Hollywood. No no, it was a lot more crowded, smelly, and sketchy. After creeping down a hill and walking 2 blocks with my 5" pumps, I was ready to have fun. Go inside, there is absolutely no room. You were practically dancing with everyone since everybody was touching. Even people who squeezed pass managed to cop a feel intentionally...I think. You know what I did? The safe thing. Danced against a column with my girls on either side. Safest bet in the house (keep this in mind) especially when underaged kids pull out a bottle of Jack, swig it for swag, and offer it to you. I'm really into my column at this time and don't notice it. The column had this vintage wallpaper that was ripped off at certain sections and I don't know if its intentional or from age but aesthetically it worked for the venue. Sadly, my musings were interrupted when more kids were trying to break into our circle, offering their hands and tiny man arms for dancing support. But but my column is so great! No offense, I just love structural feats and MY GOODNESS is this REAL OAK? 

A hand reaches into the group and is offered to the friend on my left. Mercedes, she replies using the alias she had just come up with 10 minutes prior after we escaped the mosh pit of hell. OH NO, I'm next in line. Oh, I say. Bob. He moves in closer to see if he heard correctly, What? I simply repeatedd, Bob. Needless to say and fortunately, boys don't really want to dance or grope girls named Bob. We were finally left to our devices. 

Okay, I shouldn't use that night to base my entire 21+ LA experience off of--especially with Disneyland the next night to cancel out the sticky horror of rubbing against hundreds of other strangers. I should give moving down south another chance. However, I just realized, if it is just based on my proximity to Disneyland, I might not be mature enough anyway to figure all of this out. I need more time.

<3 Malee Bob-Loblaw