A Rebel and the Pursuit of Happiness…

It seems as though I’ve “started” this blog a bunch of times.  Each time, I have this idea of what I want to do and how I want to execute it and all of the things I want to say… but then I lose myself.  Often, I think that I have nothing to say – no story to tell.  If you’re going to blog, you need a story right?  There are a ton of food blogs or mom blogs or photo blogs.  People travel or they have a disease or interesting unique story to tell.  What story do I have to tell?

6 years ago today, I picked up with just my Reggie Cat (the only one I had at the time) and moved from Baltimore, MD to Los Angeles, CA.  This was my first inspiration for a story.  The story of picking up and moving across the country.  The East and West Coasts are so diverse and I’m still boggled by things that go on here every day.   However, as days went by my money dwindled, I didn’t know anyone and I spent all of my time looking for a job. When I did find a job, it wasn’t steady or well paying and I still didn’t have much money to do or know anyone to learn about the city. So I worked and hung out with my cat at home.   Didn’t seem like a very interesting story.

Then, a friend from another state moved out here and (now former friend) moved in and introduced me to another friend – an “actor”.  Things started to get fun, we were doing stuff and having adventures (One night we went to a San Dimas High School Football game just to yell “San Dimas high school football rules!”)  Eventually the actor and I were inseparable so I thought I finally had a niche, write about our fun times and the story of the “actor” who came to LA with the dream… and me following behind him following his dream.  Unfortunately, a common thread in my life, I kind of got lost in the dust.  The friend and I were no longer friends and I just got lost in the actor.  My life became dedicated to his life.  I worked to support “us”.  I paid the bills.  I bought the gas for the car he used. I paid for any dinners or nights out.  He paid when he had money, it just wasn’t often he had money.  Essentially, I lived for him and lost myself.  What kind of story is that? Definitely not my story.

Eventually, I think I started to realize I was lost in the actors world and I didn’t have a life of my own.  I’d also kind of screwed my own life over.  I still didn’t know anyone in LA other than people I worked with and his friends.  I didn’t do anything with anyone other than him, unless he invited me out.  There are so many things to see and do in Los Angeles and I wasn’t seeing or doing any of it.  We got a cat together, Tiggs (Doodle Bug) and my cat count grew to 2.  But I still didn’t have my own story.  I ended up accepting a seemingly amazing job for a company with seemingly amazing people.  Things were pretty good for a while.  Well, things were good at work.  It seemed as though the actor realized I was living for myself finally and I wasn’t there to cater to his every whim (though, I still worked from home or left work early any and every time he need the car).  Ha, “the car”, that’s what I called it.  It was MY car, but I didn’t take possession over anything.  Our apartment, the car, the cats… nothing was “mine”.   Anyway, it seemed like he realized I wasn’t 110% dedicated to his dreams and well, he left.  I fell into a depression. Depression isn’t a story I wanted to tell. So I dove head first into my job because I loved it and it was all I kind of had at the moment.   Oh yeah and then I was laid off from my great job – right before Christmas.  Sunk even further into depression. Definitely not a story I wanted to tell.

This was two years ago, four years into living in LA. Where was my story? Where was I?  I was lost. I couldn’t even find my way to a story… because I didn’t even know where I was.

But… this IS my story isn’t it?  I’m not a stay at home mom. I don’t even have kids.  I’m not an epic DIY’er.  I don’t have a great job (I actually dread going to work every day as it’s misery and I’m pretty certain it’s driving me insane). I have a culinary history but I’m not some killer food stylist, baker or foodie. I like TV but I kind of hate pop culture while I love it as well.. but I’m a little lost on a lot of the cliche things.   I don’t have a disease or am going through anything unique in life other than … you know… trying to survive.  But that’s the thing!  I’m trying to survive!  Isn’t life a story?

I grew up in Baltimore, MD.  6 years ago I moved away from everything and everyone I knew to discover what was in LA. I got lost. I got stuck.  I fell hard and I tumbled.  But I’m still searching through the fog and crawling out of the hole and I am surviving.  I don’t have a job I love.  I’m not only searching for a job but searching for what in the world I want to do with my life. I’m 33 and I’m perpetually single.  I have three cats (I just got Stanley Spadowski about a week and a half ago).  Reggie cat is my 12 and a half year old boy who traveled with me from Maryland.  Tiggs is my three year old boy I adopted out here.  Stanley Spadowski was adopted from a friend who could no longer keep him and he’s my 9 month old boy.  I make art (digital, wood burning, painting and jewelry) and I try to sell it. I have killer hair! I love movies and sometimes do movie reviews/go to movie screenings and audience screenings.  I watch a ton of ridiculous television (though probably not all the things you watch). I don’t talk politics.  I don’t really like pop culture but I do love the 80’s and nostalgia I grew up with.  I’m utterly poor.  I struggle to pay rent pretty much every month and sometimes pick and choose what bills I’m going to pay that month.  After rent I usually have to live off less than $20 for at least a week. Sometimes I have good days.  Sometimes I have bad days.  Sometimes, I don’t even get dressed or open my door on the weekend.  I love my cats and while I do talk to them sometimes I just want to talk to someone, or just get words out and you know what… I have things to say… and this is what will make up my story.

For at least a year or more my phone has updated me at a certain time every night telling me to “Post”.  I originally wanted to do theme days, but who cares.  Maybe I’ll theme it, maybe I’ll just babble.  Maybe I’ll post every day, maybe I’ll post multiple times a day.  Maybe I’ll miss a day.  But if not for any purpose… if not for anyone… it’ll be for me.

My blog.  My words. My story. My pursuit of happiness.

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