1. The weather is cray-cray. It gets hot in California, but this kind of heat presses down on you and stays on your skin all day. Also, the morning could be sunny and beautiful, but by 4 p.m. there could be lightning and thunder. I genuinely have no idea how I’m going to handle winter.

2. Even though the weather is unpredictable, people embrace summer a lot more. California weather is great all year round, and for this reason we take it for granted. Once summer hits, there are festivals and outdoor activities galore here, and everyone just seems a bit more appreciative to have some reprieve from the cold.

3. U-turns are illegal except where there is a sign allowing them, which is rare. This just sucks.

4. Chicago is a real city. I love Los Angeles, but it’s spread out, making it difficult to get from one part to another, and our downtown is pretty wimpy. The Chicago skyline is really something.

5. The beaches…Sorry, but California’s got this one hands down. Went to one beach that was crowded as hell and no one was in the water. My second beach experience was at a beach where you had to pay a $8 entrance fee. There was also a sign that said that the water was off-limits due of germs. Also, California beaches have waves. Pacific Ocean > Lake Michigan.

6. The food is pretty bomb. Everything is new to me, and I have an awesome food tour guide. Hence, I’ve been trying to get to the gym fairly often so I can continue these food excursions.

That’s all for now. This was kind of an obligatory post since I haven’t written anything on this blog in forever. I miss home and everyone already.

via davidrager.org

SO, I’m moving. On Monday. This seems a little late for an official announcement via blog post, but I guess it’s something I’ve been avoiding because it hasn’t quite hit me that I won’t be living in California come Monday. And I’ve been avoiding any semblances of “going away” shindigs because I just hate goodbyes. Although I finally realized I do want to see my friends and soak up as much of them as I can before I leave. I just absolutely hate when people say things like “well, this is the last time I’ll see you for awhile,” or “you’re leaving meeeeee!!” before giving me a big hug. It just makes me want to break down and start bawling. Which I’ve been doing from time to time, in random places like grocery stores and in my car by myself.

A lot of people were completely shocked by my decision to move, but then they usually say something about always wanting to pick up and just move somewhere like Chicago. Now that I’m doing it, I’ll be honest and say that I don’t want to. I mean, of course I want to. I’ve made my decision and I’m not going back on it. I know in the end, it’s going to be a good thing. But in the meantime, everything I do while I’m still in California just reminds me why people live here and love it here. I’ve never lived anywhere other than California my entire life, and I’ve never needed to. We have it all – sunshine, beaches, mountains, forests, great cities, cool people. Last December we went Christmas shopping in shorts. When it gets below 60 degrees we put on jackets and talk about how cold it’s getting. We have to get our alcohol before 2 a.m. We have bomb-ass Mexican food at any time of the day or night. We say things like “freeway” and “hella.” We say “like” way too much. We have celebrities and Hollywood. We see people come here to “make it” and most of them end up as waiters or baristas. We have PCH and I swear if you drive down it in certain areas it could do you more good than seeing a psychiatrist, the view is that beautiful. We have some of the worst traffic in the world. And I love it. All of it. So even though I started writing this not knowing how it would turn out, I guess it’s my love letter to the state. California, I love you. I’m off to pursue some other things for a little while, but you’ll always be home to me.

A FEW months ago I liked a girl — a fairly common occurrence. But being slightly ambitious and drunk, I decided to ask her out on a date.

This was a weird choice, as I’m not sure I know anyone who has ever had a real date. Most elect to hang out, hook up, or Skype long-distance relations. The idea of a date (asking in advance, spending rent money on dinner and dealing with the initial awkwardness) is far too concrete and unnecessary. As the adage goes: Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? Why pay for dinner if you can sit around watching TV? If you stay at home, you hardly even need to stand up, let alone put on a nice shirt.

Despite misgivings, this particular foray felt legitimate, a coming-of-age moment straight out of a John Hughes movie. I had always wanted to go on a real date: flowers, dinner and all that. I thought that maybe in doing so I would feel more like an adult and less like a dumb little boy.

So I called this girl, feeling a little sleazy as I searched for the right words: “Hey, um, this is Joel. Do you want to, like, go out? On a date?”

Read the rest here.

via this isn't happiness

I’ve finally realized that with each compromise we make, we slowly die. I shouldn’t say finally. I’m glad I’m figuring this out sooner rather than later. Because unlike the physical parts of ourselves, the non-tangible – some would argue more important – parts can be revived even long after they’ve died multiple deaths.

We make compromises with our education, with our careers and with our relationships until we hardly recognize ourselves. What happened to idealism, to dreaming? Suddenly visions we used to have of living adventurous lives of traveling to faraway places, reading books that make us want to fight the power, and loving people that set our souls on fire, turn into concerns about what constitutes business casual, how to lose that extra 10 pounds, and whether to invest in a Roth or a traditional 401k. We look down on the people who haven’t quite “figured it out” yet and feel bad for them. When maybe it’s just a projection of the pity we feel for ourselves, because we’re dying inside and feel helpless to stop it. Awhile back I wrote about Wojun Park, an artist that explained art as not just a means, but an instinct to protest death. Maybe that’s the instinct that’s kicking in now.

I’ve seen parts of myself die that I value the most, and it’s painful each time. But this moment of clarity is a chance to salvage those parts, and protest death the best that I can.