In hot pursuit of a place called home.

The feeling of "home" is an interesting emotion, one which seems to fade in your 20's... especially, if you're like me and move from city to city. I remember when I lived in Arkansas, the company I was interning for actually did field research on this idea of home; in many instances, people didn't describe a physical place, but instead, a feeling of being near family, or otherwise emotional connections they had with the people, the culture, etc. For me, a self-admitted literalist, it's perhaps always been more about a physical place (and sometimes certain foods, like loaded baked potatoes). But as I've moved far away from my home town - the past few times on my own - one of the first things I find myself relentlessly seeking, is that irreplaceable comfort and sense of place.

This past week, as I've continued to yet another city - one which I cursed, badmouthed and looked down on for a good portion of my adult life - I found myself starting to open up to the possibility that Los Angeles could someday get there. 

The operative word being, possibility. LA definitely has a long way to go. A resident for all of 9 days, it's been entertaining and intimidating getting acquainted with my new digs. Things feel alien from any place I've ever resided, comical in myriad ways, and mostly, like a permanent vacation. Some of my initial observations might take some settling-in to, in good ways, and some less-so. 

Like being fully clothed in my beach neighborhood - very uncouth. Talking on the phone while driving - not allowed! Or the reality that everything actually is overly picturesque and beautiful -- and we're talking everything... hedge-lined grocery cart holder lanes, ornate bus stops the size of my bedroom, you name it.

Or dumpster diving - a completely acceptable full-time gig (although it shouldn't be hard to get these heathens on my side, given my glass consumption track record). Surf boards decorate most cars. Streets are silly names, like Sepulveda and Rosecrans. Parking and traffic - of utmost importance and integral in every conversation I'd had so far. 

And there are also the things I can get used to, of course... like super, super friendly neighbors, and lobster abundance [so long as you avoid the innards]... 

...Mountainside and beachside jogging paths...

...And patio-time on steroids (epic location for crosswording).

So far from where I sit, it feels a lot more like a quaint beach town than that of the bustling metropolis of Los Angeles. If I can keep it that way... we might have some real promise for a beautiful friendship. 

A lesson I've learned already - things aren't always only what they seem. And it doesn't hurt to eat a baked potato, too. Just in case.