An Update

1. I currently live in an upscale, urban crevice somewhere between the San Bernardino Mountains and the frantic I-10. Golf courses, Beamers, palm trees and newly-designed apartment complexes are staple fixtures in this swanky little town, and sleek glass buildings scaling fifteen floors line bustling industrial streets. Firms and agencies and logistics and headquarters of varying corporate enterprises stand tall while consumers of the greater Los Angeles area flock to outlet malls and trendy restaurants strategically placed throughout the metropolitan. Cars weave from the slow to fast lane and the fast to no lane in a heartbeat; the pace of life down here is bizarre and it’s never more evident than when I drive. But despite the overall chaos that runs unadulterated in this region, there is a calming, natural beauty in the geography.

Around four o’clock every evening the sun starts to head home for the night and the sky begins to fade from a subtle blue into a thick, deep lavender that eventually attaches itself onto the landscape beneath it. The sun grows more intense as it kamikazes the West, and after the sky is saturated with the residue of a setting sun the Santa Ana winds come racing inland and push thin strings of grey clouds into a sultry swagger, making them glide across the sky like an eloquent dancer. Every single night pastel sunsets burn the sky with a colorful gradient that makes any dusk-time drive a potential panoramic masterpiece. The days here are sub-par, but the evenings are so beautiful it makes up for the lack of daytime color. So if I combine the massive mountains to my direct north, the amazingly picturesque sunsets, the incredible dusks, the strands of dancing clouds, and the overall interestingness down here, I really come to realize I’m not in Fresno anymore.

It’s different here for sure, but it’s a well-needed switch from the security of a smaller city. Plus, the sunsets are amazing. I’m sure when the traffic and the egos and the rudeness of LA’s inhabitants starts to sink in I’ll be singing a different tune—but for now, I’ll enjoy it.

2. It’s no surprise that Southern California has an incredible inability to define seasons, which is definitely a major contrast between it and home—rather, my old home—where there were basically two seasons: summer and winter, with a month of a collective fall and spring. Here, however, it’s pretty much spring year-round. So two weeks ago when it was Thanksgiving and most normal people were wearing sweaters and slippers and bundling up with loved ones around a cozy fireplace, I was by myself watching Family Guy in a t-shirt and shorts; it was 87 degrees.

3. Hotels and airplanes are not so exciting anymore.

4. There's more, but I forgot about what. I'll rack my brain and come back tomorrow and give the excuse that it was ultimately unimportant--which is true--but I really just won't remember.