For one happy transplant, the NorCal lifestyle is a foggy memory
I thought I would always be a Northern California girl. I love the culture, I love the landscape. I could be my awkward car-phobic hippie-artist self and never feel out of place. Now when I go home, my NorCal friends tease me about “how L.A.” I’ve become.
I learned to drive and like it. (I’m embarrassed to admit how empowered it made me feel to drive an L.A. freeway for the first time.)
Because I worried driving would make me sedentary, I started running. (Here’s to body-conscious beginnings!)
My wardrobe shed many layers, and suddenly there were things to wear other than jeans and hoodies.
I adopted the laid-back lifestyle, (unemployed) never let folks forget how great the weather is, and took advantage of all the great ethnic food (eating meat again).
I moved to L.A. to be closer to the entertainment industry, but I did not expect to be drawn into its sensual temptations.
I expected to miss the cold climes of San Francisco more, the faux European-ness,the Mission-style burritos.
Instead I look forward to my L.A. future, where I marry a celebrity chef, live on the beach, and start my own upscale pet portraiture business. Oh, and of course I learn to surf.