My trip is coming to an end tomorrow and I’ll return to regular blogging soon.
In the meantime, here are a few more pics from my trip home.
Some more remembering to stop and smell the roses….
Momma representin’ Marfa in Central New York
My friend Dan is the vineyard manager at Long Point Winery
Dan showing us his vineyard
Lindsay (Dan’s wife) is learning to spin wool
This dog has four legs; she hates wearing clothing
As I get older, trips home vary in emotion. When I travel back to Central New York in the winter, I join the legions of individuals who feel depressed and forlorn. My hometown feels as though it has been forgotten- which it has, in a way. However, during the summer, the area feels alive and thriving and downright gorgeous- which it is. I’ve lived in or traveled through nearly two thirds of this country and there is no place quite like the American Northeast in the summer and fall. Nothing compares to the rolling green hills, the soft grass and the luscious wildflowers.
This trip I have reconnected with old friends and seen extended family. This might not sound like anything particularly special, but considering I come from a small family and am not always best at keeping in touch with people, this has been a very therapeutic and enjoyable experience. I’ve also gotten to lay in the grass while staring at the sky, paint my grandmother’s toe nails, take naps next to my favorite little Jack (more…)
I have a lot of stuff I want to write, but I’m on vacation, I’m sick and I’m grumpy.
I’m trying to stay away from the comp, but it’s hard.
In lieu of writing, here are some pics from my trip. Hope to get back up and writing this weekend.
Have a nice weekend y’all!
Nothing like New York in June
Grandma visiting Lionel in his new assisted living home. They miss each other.
Lionel holding a picture of his younger self so he can remember his life.
Little Miss Lucy
the very young and bitter author
Next week I’m turning 29 years old.
Shit, it seems like only yesterday I was 22, 24, 26…
Most thirty-somethings will tell you, “I would NEVER want to relive my twenties!”, and I’m starting to feel the same way.
Though “30 years old” is a tough pill to swallow, I’m enjoying the ride so far. It’s been significantly more stable the past few years.
Sliding into home plate has left less scratches and bruises than hitting the first ball.
In my early twenties, I didn’t know my ass from my face. And believe me, at times I felt I looked like nothing more than a big fat asshole.
At 20 I moved to Los Angeles to be a personal assistant and I thought I was cooler than cool. I had broken free from my small town in Upstate New York and was around the celebrities and industry that I grew up wanting to be a part of.
It was a good front; I actually felt extremely lost, confused, lonely and for the first time in my life, horribly insecure.
Of course, (more…)
source: Vice Magazine
I’m neither good at writing poems or having periods…
…And I apologize for alienating my entire male audience today.
I hate you!
Like a seal hates the polar bear
You gobble me up
Chew on every inch of me
And when you’re done
You spit me out
Like a wad of flavorless gum
You sit behind my eyes
And knock knock knock
Trying to break down the door
And when that doesn’t work
You travel down to my stomach
Where you perform your exercise:
Chin-ups and sit-ups and spinning and tread
I’ve always underestimated your powers, Period
Your strength is something I can no longer ignore
We all know you, yet we’re victims to your will
You give us so much
Yet take so much away
See that man over there?
I want to punch him in the face.
Want to know why?
You tell me, Period.
You tell me.
You leave me hopeless
And dismal
And angry at the world
We think (more…)
When I lived in Los Angeles I avidly volunteered.
I began volunteering out of selfish reasons of being lonely and bored, but once I saw the deep impact volunteering had on all parties involved, I became hooked.
The organization I volunteered most frequently for was in a dilapidated house in the area between Echo Park and Downtown LA. I guess that area would still be considered Echo Park, but it’s not all the hipsters and bars that one thinks of with that area. It was a moderately dangerous neighborhood that once boasted beautiful houses and elegant businesses. Now the houses have bars on their windows and a smoky smog sheen covering the paint. Broken car window glass litters the street. When I pulled into a nearby convenient store to accurately locate the nonprofit house on my GPS, I watched a stream of rats run alongside my car. In LA, rats aren’t as common as in NYC.
The nonprofit I was going to temporarily houses children from Mexico and Central America who have crossed the (more…)
Visiting LA was amazing and confusing. I never imagined that I would miss LA, but I do. I think?
This week I visited Los Angeles. It was my first extended trip since I walked away from the city of wandering angels.
I met up with old friends and revisited familiar locations that I abruptly left almost four years ago. Jumping into the past is both energizing and intimidating. Will I feel disconnected from my old friends? Will I want to stay in the past? Will this trip trigger an existential crisis that will leave me curled up in a ball screaming, “Who am I?!?”
The longer I’ve lived away from Los Angeles the more I’ve romanticized it. I conveniently forgot the aimless journey I was taking there, long nights crying myself to sleep or staring at the ocean sky hoping life would finally happen.
I moved to Los Angeles when I was 20 after being offered an assistant position at an actor’s production company. It took me five years to realize that I didn’t want to put someone before me (more…)
Yesterday I spent the day in a place I frequent in my head, except this time I was there in person.
The wonderfully quirky world of Venice, California quickly became my favorite part of Los Angeles once I peeled back the sticky layer of sweat, sand, liquor and God knows what else that covers the town and saw what lies below the surface.
Windward Ave.
Venice has not changed a bit since I left four years ago. The only exception is now there is a medicinal marijuana store everywhere you turn. The employees wear green scrubs with marijuana leaves on them and scream at you, “The doctor is in!” It’s only $40 to get your medical marijuana card.
I even saw many of the same street performers who have been performing tricks on the boardwalk for years.
This street performer jumped onto a pile of broken glass
It’s as if Venice has been pickled in time.
I hope it always stays that way.
One of my favorite boardwalk homes designed by Frank Gehry
I relived my regular (more…)
Sometimes I think my writing would be much more interesting if I were still a wandering soul.
I used to decry that as a confused early twenty-something my stresses prevented me from thinking creatively. Between the ages of 20 and 25 that I lived in Los Angeles, I did little to release my artistic passions. I was drowning in my self-made cocktail of existentialism and narcissism. Sick of hearing myself talk about my petty, but nonetheless troubling issues caused me to move to another city to “find myself”.
Which I did.
Now I’m boring.
I work from home, forget to change out of my pajamas and garden poorly.
I wouldn’t say that “I’ve figured it all out” though. Who ever does? In many ways, we’re ambling spirtis our entire lives; always searching, always learning and always changing.
However, I’m a far cry from the girl I was five years ago.
The girl at 23 didn’t know what she wanted in a career or in love. She thought she always knew herself, but for the first time (more…)
Next week I’ll be reacquainted with a former flame.
A love that dragged me through the valley of extreme highs and absolute lows.
My relationship with LA is one I’ve romanticized in my writing, my dreams and very somber moments drinking alone. She turned me from a child into an girl; a girl with worn edges and heavy heart.
At some point last year, I realized that girl metamorphosed into an adult. All the hopes and dreams the girl cried for in her loneliness came true.
She loves someone now, and she knows her path career-wise.
I think about the girl often and in random moments I miss her.
I mourn her passing when watching an episode of Girls or hearing a song by M83. My new adult way of thinking tells me I’d never want to be her again, but there is a part of her that still calls to me.
The girl used to lie on Venice Beach at night, staring at the stars wondering when it will all happen for her.
She never thought that day would come, but it’s came, and I’m going to (more…)