When I was 18, I moved to LA.
I moved from a small town on the coast of Oregon that nobody (save a few fans of Pre — who I also ❤ in case you’re wondering) had ever heard of. That little town was filled with trees… and clean air… and nice people.
I hated LA.
I hated it with a fiery passion and felt like the concrete was about to swallow me alive.
And then, one day… without notice… I fell in love.
That big grey city stole my heart. Its food, its culture… its big dirty polluted self seeped into my soul and made itself a little home… and today, even though I know it’s crazy, I miss it like hell…
And it’s not just the surfing and the sun, though those two might serve as a couple of easy targets if you really think I’m nuts.
I do miss surfing, next to the smoke stacks… and I miss the sun. But I also miss the creativity, the freedom of the people… the feel of that place that never leaves once it’s got you by the soul.
The first couple of times I visited New York… I was not impressed. It was big… dirty… I couldn’t see the sun. But the more I go… the more I realize that New York, like LA, has begun to seep in.
We’re still getting to know each other, New York and I… but despite our rocky start, I don’t know… it might be love.