Los Angeleno Seeks Other Los Angelenos

Moving is an opportunity to get rid of clutter and organize a new life.  But it also opens up shelves and corners and space for new furniture and must-haves on Craigslist. I've been obsessed lately - making my treasure hunt online part of my morning ritual.

I've come across items I could never afford, hilarious postings under "free" and an unbelievable amount of spam. However, I've also discovered it's an amazing way to see who really lives in Los Angeles. In pursuit of new treasure, I've visited a handful of people's homes and each visit opens my eyes a little more.

I met Jack, a polite man in his 60's who sold me 15 old Spanish tiles that I plan to use for a Guerrilla Garden. He was slightly hesitant to hand over the box and asked me what I planned to do with them. After my explanation, he requested I send him photos of the finished product.

I also met Laura who mentioned on the phone there was no pressure to buy anything. She knew it was all fate and if her items spoke to me, I would buy them and I would be very happy. As I stepped into her apartment, she explained she had three kids and a past life and husband she despised. The items she wanted to sell were from that life and she loved them dearly, but wanted a fresh start. She also explained since I was interested in the potted plants, that there would be no bad juju because plants are full of life and can adapt to new love. After helping me load the pots into my car, she offered me a high five and good luck in life and in love.

And finally, Terry, who sold me an antique jewelry box I had my eye on for about a week.  I met him at a tiny studio apartment in West Hollywood and when I walked in, there were literally antiques and knick knacks from floor to ceiling. I almost needed to turn sideways to walk into the space. He was buff and blonde, a gold chain peaking out of his three-quarter, un-buttoned shirt and a matching gold hoop earring in his left ear. He had round, rosy cheeks that reminded me of Santa Claus and asked if I had extra time to take a look at the rest of his loot. He explained he used to live in a big home and collected antiques for years and that he used to have a lot of money but was changing his lifestyle and didn't have space anymore.

I did have time.

And I did find a couple more things I probably didn't entirely need. But when I got home tonight, I received an email from him with the subject line, THANK YOU and this image in the body of the email:

Welcome To The Neighborhood

After an intimate evening with IKEA, building and cursing all night, I made my first trip to our new local grocery store.  I pulled up to an almost empty parking lot and headed in with my head down shuffling through my purse.  I suddenly heard someone yelling, "Security guard, security guard! It's THAT woman, right there, it's her."

It didn't alarm me.  In fact, I barely looked up to see what was happening...just assumed someone had done something wrong.  A fleeting thought entered my mind that our new neighborhood was a little shady.  But I rolled my eyes, sort of half grinned and thought, "Oh well."

The lady who seemed to be accused of something had now stopped in her tracks and was looking back at the door.  The security guard was swiftly heading toward her with an outstretched arm and a mile-long receipt.

"Mam, mam. You forgot your $5 coupon."

My half grin turned into a full smile and I immediately knew I liked my new neighborhood.

Roll 'em down.

I've mentioned this before and I still feel the same way.  Especially because most people have smart phones now and there's no need to ask for help.

Stuck in traffic on Santa Monica Blvd, ahem, with my windows down -- a business man pulled up next to me and said, "Excuse me? How do I get to the 405?"

I gave him directions, he gave me a quick thank you and I silently thanked Los Angeles for having great weather that allows me to have my windows down.  In January.  And the opportunity for human interaction - even if just for a moment.

Free Parking

After boot camp this morning, my roommate and I were walking back to the car and she stopped and pointed at the ground.  Next to the meter was a pile of change. Good change.  Like, laundry money change.

There was a very brief moment where both of us considered picking it up, but she said, "We should leave it for someone who needs it."

Thank you to the generous person who clearly will make someone's day today in Santa Monica.


(Which also reminds me of these guys.)

Crumbs

I did quite a bit of walking around Santa Monica tonight and I'm not sure what's happening, but I saw 5 shoes.  Solo, lonely, abandoned shoes.  Five in one night...that's weird, right?

A flip flop.
An Adidas soccer flop.
A men's dress shoe.
A flip flop.
A women's dress shoe.

I'm going to pretend it's two people speaking to one another in shoes.  Perhaps a Hansel and Gretel reenactment of sorts.

Roadside Love

I took one of the canyon roads to the Valley today.  At the base of the hill, there was a handmade, painted sign that said:

I [heart] my Angil.

About 500 yards further, there was another, smaller sign made from a different piece of wood that said:

I [heart] U 2.

I love strangers you see so often they feel like friends.

There is a father/son duo that takes their morning walk everyday through Palisades Park as I sweat my way through boot camp.  I've never eavesdropped on this 40-something dad and his adorable 3ish-year old. I usually just see them pass and think, "Wow, people in Santa Monica are beautiful. What the heck is in the water?"

Today, I thought I heard someone speaking much too loudly on their cell phone and interrupting our yoga-esque cool down.  Half-annoyed, I turned to see who the perpetrator was and realized it was my favorite little duo; no cell phone in sight.  He was praising his little boy for picking up a piece of trash in the park.

"That's like when daddy goes surfing and sees trash in the ocean.  I pick it up and put it in my wetsuit to help keep the ocean clean.  And you're doing it here to keep the park pretty.  I'm so proud of you." 

Bonding together in crappy times

I am an official financial contributor to the City of Los Angeles.  I'm, like, a professional.

Today, not only did the City of LA tow my car, they left a pretty red and white ticket on my windshield for an extra $158 on top of the $262 it cost to get my car back.  There's no sunshine in any of those numbers.  And I wasn't smiling as I was stranded at a Hollywood coffee shop calling friends for a ride.

However, when I arrived at the tow lot, things got a little sunnier.

It's not a welcoming place; with it's coded metal gate and uniformed staff standing behind bullet proof glass with a speaker and small slot to pass my credit card through.  But as I walked up, there were two other "official contributors" trying to retrieve their cars.  They smiled through their frustration and said, "Welcome to the Los Angeles towing club.  You're an official member now...isn't it exciting?!"

This put me in a slightly better mood as I hopped on the golf cart with one of the Hollywood Tow staff members to find my car.  He couldn't have been nicer.  I had already planned to enter this place with a calm demeanor -- I mean, it's just their job...not their fault.  But this guy made it so easy.  We commiserated about the City of LA and how much they charge for everything and we shared stories about being locals and still making stupid tourist mistakes.

All in all a good experience.  But talk to me when I can't pay rent next month.
Whatevs.

These Boots Are Made For Walking

I went to Mindshare LA tonight to talk about the Do Good Bus and had such a great experience.  It's the first networking event I've been to that didn't have the awkward moments, the long explanations of why I should invest in someone's film, etc.

They also had some really cool projects on display including a ping pong table that rocks back and forth by Synn Labs and the Leisure Listening Lounge by Super Tall Paul.

As I sat down in the listening lounge and grabbed my very own pair of headphones (next to the 12 other people sitting in a U-shape in front of Super Tall Paul), I couldn't wait to see what he'd play for us.  We were literally sitting in the middle of this event with people chatting and sipping on beer -- but our little group of twelve had our very own private concert.

Super Tall Paul played everything and looped it (similar to Jon Brion) and made jokes in between.  I was giddy when I realized he was doing a cover of These Boots Are Made For Walking.  Most definitely a favorite.  And it added to may already "high on life" evening.

Yay, L.A.

La Fin

Went to The Pint tonight and added it to my list of reasons maybe I SHOULDN'T move from the Westside.

I walked up to the bar and noticed there was a guy waiting on the other side and he nervously eyed me and then the bartender.  I could tell he thought I might get served first even though he'd clearly been waiting.  (Which could have been the case, really.  This IS a bar where the bartender knows my name.  Yessss.)

However, she went to him first and then took my order.  I watched as she placed what seemed to be MY bottle in front of him: the large version of La Fin Du Monde.  Delish.  As she turned the bottle I noticed it was actually Maudite -- made by the same brewery, just a different flavor.

She asked, "How many glasses?"
He put up his first finger and shyly smiled, "Just one."

She walked over to me and placed my very similar bottle in front of me and asked the same question.
I answered, with my finger in the air and a quick roll of the eyes, "Just one."

She looked back and forth and said, "You guys are made for each other!"

I smiled at him and he gave me a half-assed grin as I had a small moment of sunshine.

At the end of the night as I closed my tab, my trusty bartender said, "Did that guy come talk to you?!  I told him you were single."

Nah, he didn't.

Doesn't he know it's almost The End of the World (La Fin Du Monde)

and he'll be Dammed (Maudite) soon so he should have just said hello?!

Better

Went to Hotel Cafe tonight to see the Ditty Bops.  So good.  So good.

I know I've mentioned this before, but there's something about that place.  It feels safe and comfortable.  Not to mention, the music is always good.  It seems that every time I'm there I have a moment where I close my eyes and breathe it all in.

And then I just feel....better.

Juror #10

I begrudgingly headed to jury duty today.  Which is funny, because I'm kind of a nerd and actually really like jury duty.  But this time around, it seemed to be getting in the way of my life, not to mention having me up at the crack of dawn.

Turns out, the day wasn't all that bad.  And because I'm a nerd, I take the whole secrecy thing pretty seriously.  So I'm not gonna share just yet.  But looks like I'm on a case starting tomorrow and I already have good little bits to share.

Just can't do it until the case is over.

So, until then....here's a fun LA jury duty tip for ya:
If you're summoned to the 210 W Temple Courthouse and need to get to the 11th floor...go ahead and wave to the people waiting in the massive line at the floors 2-11 elevator and hop on the 12-19 elevator.  Walk down one flight of stairs...and viola! you're there in half the time.

Two wheels, please.

Sooo....the couple days of bike/train commuting proved to be pretty great.  I couldn't believe how much better it made me feel.  Not to mention the things you see/hear/smell when you're not stuck in the bubble of your car.

• Glendale smells AMAZING.  Something is blooming there and...whoa...so yummy.
• Hearing the city go by is invigorating.
• A lot of people smoke weed in Los Angeles.  In their cars, on the sidewalk, on their front porch...

And because it was so great, I'm committing to getting from Santa Monica to Santa Clarita using public transport/my bike/my legs once a week for the next two months.

It feels official if I commit to it here.  Feels like I have someone keeping me accountable.

Girls are many things, but not usually jerks.

We have a pretty obnoxious -- very Santa Monica -- crosswalk about a block from my house.  It is also the crosswalk I use every morning to get my coffee.  It has huge yellow signs on both sides, flashing lights on the ground (when you push the button) and pretty high pedestrian traffic so everyone typically slows down on that section of Ocean Park Blvd.

This particular morning was going very well -- early to rise, morning at the beach, friendly encounters at the coffee shop...

And then...the crosswalk.

As I walked out, coffee in hand and still smiling about my favorite barista, I looked both ways and noticed a car was slowing down for me to cross.  I stepped out slightly, looked him right in the eye and waved to say thanks.  As I made my way across I heard, "PUSH THE BUTTON YOU JERK!"

The seventy-year-old man behind the wheel of his Prius fully stopped his car, leaned out and most definitely called me a jerk.  In ALL CAPS.  I was stunned.

As I made it to the other side, a woman screamed back, "Calm down.  Have a nice day!" And then to me she said, "Oh, the nerve of people.  Pedestrians have the right of way.  Some people just get their feathers ruffled.  I hope YOU still have a nice day."

Full Circle

It's crazy how small Los Angeles really is.

I went to check out a prospective project for the Do Good Bus today and the woman who introduced us to the cause was planning to meet us there.

As usual, I was running late and my partner had already started chatting with her. As I walked up, they were talking about guerrilla gardening and the woman was explaining that she hadn't gardened, but that she had made seed bombs at some event.  I just smiled and sort of dismissed it; seed bombs are all over now, it didn't mean she made them with LA Guerrilla Gardening.

As we were making our introductions, a little girl - with so much hair on her head I thought she might topple over - peered around the corner.  Her face was so familiar and I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

"And that's Graciela." Her mom said.

Suddenly pictures were piecing together in my mind.  Seed bombs.  Big hair.  Cute little girl.  Event. Dancing.  Graciela.  AH HA!

I interrupted this lovely woman and said, "I'm sorry, were you guys at Park[ing] Day LA when you made seed bombs?  And did Graciela dance in the street with lots of strangers?"

She sort of sweetly rolled her eyes and said, "Yes.  I remember that exactly.  I had run in to Scoops to grab some fancy ice cream and left her dancing with you all. When I came back out, she was giving everyone a dance lesson."

I almost jumped in the air -- I couldn't believe it.  This was the little girl I had written a sunshine about 2 years ago!

The Hills of Beverly and That Red Frugetable

Tomatoes should be a vegetable.  You don't put them in a fruit cup.  You don't top your pancakes with them.  Yeah, they have seeds.  Big freaking deal.  They. Are. Vegetables.

(Ahem, it appears the United States Supreme Court agrees with me, see Nix v. Hedden.  And it also appears you REALLY can take someone to court for ANYTHING.)

Right.  So the point here is:  I don't like tomatoes.  And there are some exceptions to this, but in general, keep them off my sandwich please.  Tonight, driving into Beverly Hills for work, I posted the following on Twitter:

Beverly Hills, you are just like tomatoes to me. Been trying you for years, but we will never be friends.

Then it was as if the universe wanted to prove a point and gave me two - let's call them entertaining - experiences.  After telling twitterspace that I hated this city, I got a free Ruth's Chris Steakhouse cheesecake and an interesting, friendly encounter with a parking attendent.

This still doesn't mean we're friends, but it made me hate Beverly Hills a TEENY bit less.  At least for today.

A thought

I was getting ready for an evening of martinis and Mad Men and noticed there was a neighbor dog howling and whining for almost an hour.  At first, I thought..."Meh, slightly loud and annoying, but man, I wish I had a dog."  And then my Lassie radar turned on and I thought..."What if someone is hurt and the dog is crying for help?!"

Which was immediately followed by, "Nah, someone else will check."
(Which was followed by that thought for the next hour.)

I sort of hate that reasoning.  People die, can't get up, get kidnapped, don't get help...primarily because people think:  Someone else will help.

I made it all the way to my car and started the engine before I had to FORCE myself out of my car, walk to my neighbor's complex and pick a door to knock on.

They seemed surprised, defensive and almost annoyed that I had even bothered.  "No, our dog is quiet, I promise."  I tried to explain that I wasn't annoyed or upset -- just worried.  They didn't seem to hear me.

This isn't a HEY, LOOK AT ME -- LOOK AT WHAT I DID post.  This is a realization that LA has slowly and surely changed me.  And I'm frustrated.  It took a ton of convincing to get out of my car to "waste" 3 minutes of my time to check on a fellow human-being.

Buuuut....man did I feel relief afterward.  Even if they couldn't quite understand my intentions.

$1.25 please

I was headed home from Laguna Beach tonight and was aimlessly following my phone's GPS which put me on a toll road.  I hesitated at first, but then thought...whatever, what's it gonna be...like $2?

Wrong.  $4.75 for a few miles of fancy toll road pavement.  I was slightly annoyed at first, but then realized I'd paid for a road to myself.  There wasn't a car in sight and I forgot how great that feels.

Ya know, the open road.

Hard to find in the City of Angels.

The Cool Kids Are In College

Perhaps this is a broken record, but music fans in LA can be kind of lame at live shows.  I can't tell if it's the over abundance of options that makes people snooty....sort of a taking it for granted attitude...or if just those types of people flock to LA.  Either way, it's no fun.

Tonight I went to see Foster the People at the UC Riverside campus and it was so great to see people at the first note of the first song, already bouncing around a little bit.  And to songs they've probably never heard before.

Yes, college kids are generally a little more free, but come on LA, let's step it up. Music is awesome.  You know it is.  Now let go a little bit.

Check out those moves

I get up.

I walk.

I fall down.

Meanwhile I keep dancing.

That's been a favorite of mine for quite sometime and tonight I saw that quote in real life.

Spent the evening running around and playing games with kids at Camp Harmony.  It's an amazing week-long camp for homeless kids ranging from 7-10 years old with high school students as their counselors.

Those kids KILLED it on the dance floor.  KILLED. IT.  I watched as they challenged each other in battles, jumped around in circles, did back flips and schooled every single one of the volunteers with their sweet moves.

And they were happy.

I can't even BEGIN to imagine what their lives are like outside of this week-long camp.  But after tonight,  that quote makes even more sense to me and is the reason I live by it.  Dancing is a therapy that is truly priceless.  And those kids get it.  They just get it.

(This also reminds me of a great film, Rize, about people using dance as an alternative to gangs and a way to express emotion.  Here's the trailer.)