I just got into LAX last night. It's amazing how so much time can pass, but I still remember the nuances of the city. Take La Cienega down past the big plaster donut, over the traintracks, and into Hollywood.
I drove past the old Project Hollywood house. It looks just as it ever did, except now there's a family's SUV in the driveway. I wonder if they know who used to live there.
Within minutes I'm transported back three years. I feel as though nothing's changed. I'm home. Driving down sunset takes me past all of the familiar landmarks - places I used to eat at and visit every day. I make it to Style's house without a GPS.
I have a whole circle of friends here. I don't talk with them often when I'm not here, but once I get here it's like nothing's changed. To a lesser extent it's like that in Boston as well. I abandon my Texas friends once in a while to go on these long trips, but they're still there when I get back. Now that I've spent two months in Panama, it will always be familiar to me in the same way.
Todd's here right now. It's always strange to me when my different worlds cross. I like it.
With my projects I have a habit, that I'm currently winning battling with, of starting multiple projects and never fully investing myself in one of them.
Maybe I'm like that with my life, too.
There's a famous experiment where they found that the optimal amount of Jellies to sell at once is eight. Any more and the choices paralyze people - they can't make the decision.
I wonder if that will happen to me. As I visit new places and fall in love with them I want to live in them all. Todd and I drove around Santa Monica today and marveled and what a nice place it is to live. Great restaurants, the beach, and a Whole Foods that sells quart sized smoothies (which we each got, of course).
Creating this year's itinerary was easy for Life Nomadic. Next year will be tougher because we'll have too many good choices.
Yeah, it did go fast. Not much of a culture shock, really. It's a different culture, but both are manageable and now familiar.
Todd is SUPPOSED to write on LifeNomadic and he has a personal site (not blog) at www.ticeton.com
So your done with Panama. That went fast...
Does it seem like a bit of a culture shock being back in the states, and in a place like LA, compared to being out in Panama?
also, has Todd got a blog?
That's awesome. I've never actually been to LA, closest was SF. I need to travel more.
I'm going to Israel (again) this summer, and possibly France.
However, I can't wait until my path crosses once again with Life Nomadic.. =)
This is part of an ongoing series. If you haven't read them already, read :
I wrote out this entire post before, and then the computer crashed and I lost it all, so I haven't felt like working on it. Finally, I'm biting the bullet and starting over :
August 28, 1998 is a day that forever changed my life. That night, in the late summer, I was introduced to live music when my dad took me to my first concert to see Pearl Jam on their "Yield Tour" in Philadelphia Camden, NJ. Unlike many of my other friends who attended concerts before their 10th birthdays, I have no reason to be embarrassed of this first in my life.
This post is not about the album. This is about the tour that happened in support of the album. I still have very vivid memories of my first concert, and I would like to put them into words before the haze of years past begins to erode them. I don't remember when it was decided that I would be the one accompanying my dad to the show, but I do remember the lead-up to the show. I remember Dad getting home from work, dialing up the interwebs (not as easy as it is now), and trying to point to and explain things that, at the time, I barely understood.
"You see here? Mudhoney and Iggy Pop are opening."
I had no idea what that meant, but I smiled, nodded, and assumed that the band pre-announced the first two songs they would play for every night of their tour (it was a learning experience for sure). The day of the show we went to KFC and picked up a bigger box of chicken than I knew was offered by the Colonel. We drove about an hour to Camden, ample time to make the chicken a perfect, tailgating lukewarm.