I LOVE YOU, LA

Los Angeles is a magical city. She’s not for the faint of heart. I’m a California girl, born and raised, and in my hometown, when you wanted a bigger pond where no one recognized you, you go north to San Francisco or South to LA. I chose south, even though LA does not have the best reputation outside of it’s county. Every town associates it with traffic, which is…fair, but only a sliver of the pie.

The rest of America hates us as well, I guess? They used to not care about us, but recently something (People in power pitting groups against each other to distract them from same people abusing their power, maybe?) has changed that. I recently found this out while visiting a friend in Michigan. When a group of guys we were talking to found out we were from Los Angeles, the mood changed. “I hate Los Angeles,” the only talkative one growled. I asked him some follow up questions, because one must not get defensive without proper information. Did he use to live there? Nope. Did he visit? Also no. So why does he hate LA? He had a layover at LAX and went to the Santa Monica pier. Okay. Sure. You’re basing your opinion of a gigantic city on it’s airport and a tourist attraction? Totally legit! Makes all the sense in the world. We didn’t argue because you can’t argue with crazy, but we were still called Coastal Elite (Love the term, can’t get enough of it, want to name my first born after it), and witnessed a male storm off. It’s like a female storm off, except way more dramatic. He didn’t even take his beer!

It took me a long time to love LA. She’s not an easy lady, she makes you work for it. My first year I got chewed up and spit out multiple times. I had to share a room to make rent, and I had three jobs that barely paid me. I came down with bronchitis for a month because I had no health insurance and had to keep working. I got involved in a scam theater that I knew was a scam going into it but since I was an assistant director and not an actor forced to pay 400 bucks to be in a play, I told myself it was fine (it was not). I took classes at a cult improv school, hoping I’d find a community of comedy nerds, but no one would talk to you unless you knew someone. I could not afford anything so I walked up and down Ventura Boulevard for hours. I had very little friends. I lived in the valley and did not like it. My cult improv classes were in Hollywood, and I did not like it. One job sent me all over LA during the height of rush hour. I did NOT like it.

One day I realized that I did not have to stay. I could go to another city, like… Chicago! Comedy and theater were my two loves, and the only thing I knew the city for were for both of those things! It felt so freeing once I decided. I loved telling people my plans. What have I been working on? Uh, getting the fuck out of LA and moving to CHICAGO! How’s work? Great! Just severing ties with all my bosses so I can go to CHICAGO! My life isn’t falling apart, it’s just about to begin, in CHICAGO! After my 301 cult improv class I told someone about my plans, and she asked me how long I’d been in town. I think I was at the 8 month mark at that point. She looked at me with wide eyes and said, “You can’t leave yet! You have to give LA a year!" I did not know this lady very well, and yet, I listened to her. I can make it to a year. If it’s still bad, then I can go experience real cold for the first time in my life.

So I stayed in LA for four more months. And just as my one year anniversary rolled around, I reevaluated. I had a (slightly) better job, I had a better living situation in a part of town I loved. I made friends at my job, I stopped giving the cult improv school my savings and started doing comedy with people I liked and thought were funny. I learned my way around town, found the places I liked to be, and went there. I still had to deal with Hollywood, but that got easier as well. Sort of. Now, when I encounter someone who is having a hard time, I pass along the same advice given to me. Give it a year. Because 12 years later, I’m still here.

I’m not trying to convince anyone how amazing LA is. I don’t know how long I’ll stay here, but for now, I love her. She’s not perfect, she’s got some scars, and she’s been used and abused for her resources, but she’s resilient and strong and super fucking weird. The fires have devastated this town, but she’s going to rise up and reinvent herself like the aging pop stars that live in her hills. My mom recently told me that she feels bad that I don’t have community because I live in a big city. I told she was wrong, that we have so much more because of our size. She insisted that only small towns show up for each other. These fires showed just how much community we have here, and how much we love our city. But if you want to keep hating us, please go right ahead. We’ll be at the beach.

Things I Have Done That Are Easier Than Sharing My Feelings With A Loved One

• Spit chewed up food into someone’s mouth

• Had chewed up food spat into my mouth

• Eaten Spaghetti with my toes

• Ate spaghetti from someone else’s toes

• Got drenched in fake blood

• Appeared onstage in granny panties

• Flashed one boob (the good one) at an audience

• Rapped about my insecurities to strangers

• Sang about rape (in a fun way!)