in la-la land

I have a weird relationship with L.A. It's where I grew up, but I don't really like coming "home" because (a) my parents moved so the house I come "home" to isn't really "home," (b) I don't have a big network of high school friends to visit when I'm in town since I hated my high school and 95 percent of the people in it, (c) the traffic sucks and (d) the place just feels bizarre.

And by bizarre, I mean it feels like I've been magically whisked back to high school again, which as you read above, I hated. And yet I somehow allow myself to get sucked in. Listening to the same radio station and getting excited when they play Nirvana. Calling my mom to tell her where I am and when she can expect me back at the house. Driving past and around the old places. (Did I really hang out at the Burbank mall? And why do I suddenly have a near-violent craving for a hot dog from Pink's? And let's not forget Higley's for coffee, which sadly, no longer exists. I think the amount of mochas I consumed there stunted my growth.)

Despite the time warp, there are some things about this place that are strangely fascinating. Like the people watching. (People in L.A. actually wear shorts outside of their homes. I haven't seen this much public bare leg in ages. And these people have tans! Real tans! That definitely doesn't happen in the Bay Area!)

Also cool: The ethnic food. Susan (one of my two L.A. friends) took me to Little Armenia to buy some coffee today. (Can't wait to get home and try out the ibrik I got him for his birthday.) Little Armenia? Not exactly something you'd find in Chickenland.

Then there's the shopping. The selection of stripper shoes here is fabulous. Stuff you wouldn't see in San Francisco, not even at Foot Worship! I couldn't resist -- picked up two pairs for class.

And I'm also finding myself wishing I had packed my bikini. Because I haven't been to a beach where you can actually go in the water without wearing a full-body wetsuit in a very long time.