Last Night

hello world.

I'm in my house again, in Pasadena. I mean, I guess you could call it a house though I essentially live alone in an apartment that's overly clean for my tastes most the time, but it's the best thing next to a home that I've got.

Somehow I ended up alone in the world. This keeps happening to me! One minute I'm settling into a state of contentment, the next I find myself sitting on my bed typing a blog to the outside world because there's really no other means for expression. I'm not sure how this is, but maybe I can use it as a sort of research project about life:

Last night was easily the craziest night I've had yet at work. Besides the total insanity of the job itself, stacking and maneuvering hundreds upon hundreds of shiny new automobiles, I also got to meet some people that I never thought I'd meet this soon. Take for instance meeting this girl named Kristen. I had run up to the motor court to retrieve my next vehicle and stood next to a black Mercedes. I opened the door to let out the driver and it was a blond girl whom I recognized. She got out and smiled at me, and I remembered that she was one of the girls from The Hills, a popular TV show about pretty much nothing, but fun to watch. (So fun in fact that I had watched the entire season of it from my little living room in Santa Cruz not even a year prior). Now here I am, standing next to the car and opening the door for one of the actresses from the show. As she stepped out, I was thinking about how I knew her brother who worked at the W with us (total coincidence). So I said, "Welcome to Hollywood. Hey do you have a brother?" which she smiled back to and replied, "yeah!! He works here!" and we got into a little chat about it. She's really attractive, so I had to play it cool. and Definitely didn't, but maybe that's a good thing. Either way, we laughed for a second, and I got into her car and drove it down into the garage.

Why tell this story? (and so many more at this point)
Because as I parked her car downstairs and was jogging the familiar Jurassic-Parkish pipeline routes back to the top, I found myself totally content with my decision to move to LA. I mean, here's the deal: I've always lived far away observing this place in wonder (and disgust), as many of us do from our distant abodes. And as I grew up I also loved movies, music, scores, cartoons and television series, and dreamed about being a part of it. Not until later in life did I comprehend the reality: all entertainment, movies, politics, heroes, villains, everybody I worshiped growing came from here. And so somewhere in college it became my impossible goal, my calling, to abandon all hope and move down to become a part of it.

I guess last night opening the door for this beautiful semi-celebrity closed that loop between sitting in my Santa Cruz home watching her on television having an actual conversation with her in real life. It dawned on me that I'm slowly (and actually) accomplishing what I grew up dreaming about. It's that old tried-and-tested, if you really want something you have to go out get it.

Of course then Jamie Foxx showed up in a silver Lamborghini and I started to feel a little out of my league. Then we lost Ryan Phillipe's and Dr Dre's keys, in one night!!
I mean, what kind of operation are we running here.

Point: I am alone, but I'm slowly earning happiness. I really want to get used to it, it's a fulfilling thing. I had some pretty heavy emotional attachments to things before, and for a while they were severed from me like having your arm sawed off with a butter knife. The nice thing is that I think I've just made it past the bone, so that the rest can tear away nicely, heal, and I can get back to what I was doing.

In the meantime, I have more encounters with beautiful celebrities to look forward to, and new people to network with so that maybe someday I can achieve my next goal: be the guy stepping out of the black Mercedes, rather than standing next to it.

That is all. Fare thee well you Placerville folk and the rest.