And then, one day it's over.
This thing that you've worked on for a couple of years, is over.
This thing being something you can't define, can't really understand still. It's absolutely astounding to me that something can be your life, your every day life that you do every single day, and it feels like a dream.
I moved to LA on July 3, 2015. I had absolutely NO idea what I was doing or what I was signing up for. My blessed family helped me truck across the dessert and into the oasis that hugs the coastline with a twinkle of starlight coming from every aspiring actor/film person/director/artist/whatever's eyes that fill the metro. And there are a lot of those stars.
I heard once that "no one comes out of LA alive." That's so weird and so freaking relatable. I agreed heavily when I read it from my apartment right off the 405 on Santa Monica Boulevard.
I think it's kind of dark, and I can tell that the person that wrote it was still twisted in the vines of the city, but as someone that has graduated out I do actually disagree. They almost had it right. The veracity is that no one comes out of LA the same way they came in.
Yes, this is dramatic. "Whateverrrrr Micah it isn't that bad."
No, it's not. I don't think I would've done that much growing in any other place without moving to a foreign country. Growing in a horizontal, vertical, parallel, sideways, upside down kind of way. Twisted in the vines. Spending majority of my time feeling very lost, stumbling around. I've been away from the low hum of constant movement for almost four months now. And I don't have any better grasp than I did on my first day when I had no idea of my future. Major clarity happening right here. . .
I trust, that in time, maybe in ten years...maybe more, it'll make sense and I'll be able to clearly recall all of the amazing things that happened to me.
Which leads me to this post. I feel stumbly as I write right now, I don't really know what to say or what to remember.
There's something to be said about losing yourself. Which is exactly what you have to do when you make a big life transplant. You have your past, your memories, the things that make you, you, but really you're the only one that understands those things. When you make new friends, you talk about new things, a little bit of their lives and a little bit of yours and it meshes into something brand new. Losing yourself a little and regaining a new self.
It's pretty beautiful. And I definitely think it takes a while for all that to settle. Never in a million years did I think I would ever live in California, and LA least of all. A city with such a reputation, that everyone everywhere has formed some sort of opinion about, simply because it is always so freakin in the spotlight.
I guess that's what attracts the millions.
But once you get beyond the glamour and the cookie-cutter inhabitants, you meet some extremely cultured and open-minded people. And that, is where the real glamour lies.
Learning yourself while equally having to learn every new person you encounter is a lot to handle. Carving a small niche into the never-ending city that hosts 15 million is no small feat - and then before you know it, it's all over.
It's funny but I kind of relate this aspect to high school, or college even. Because college is cooler... You work so hard to make something of yourself and your surroundings, and then ...BOOM... it's time to move on to the next phase. Pack your bags!
I count my lucky stars every single day that I got to move on to a next phase. That I had the time and space in LA and got to back away from it, is key and I am overly thankful.
But I'm thankful that I was there to begin with. I wouldn't change anything, the pain and loneliness and fear and bravery and courage and confidence didn't come from nothing. What you put in is exactly what you get out. And I know that all of the time I spent freaking out will benefit me one day. (it better or I will freak out)
And so, this one is for you Los Angeles, cheers, and thank you for kicking my butt.