The questions people tend to ask when they see me these days...
1. How's the book?
2. How's married life?
3. Did your brother and his wife have their kid?
4. They have SEVEN?
5. How are you liking Los Angeles?
6. Do you miss New York?
Most of these questions have simple answers.
My book has taken up most of my brain space for the last two years and has whittled away all that was left over. And I likely don't have the best outlook on Los Angeles because I don't really go out a lot. My life isn't as exciting as I could make it appear on Facebook or Twitter with carefully crafted over-exuberant phrases like, "I love living so close to Beverly Hills!" or "The sun is SO GORGEOUS out here!"... which really means it looks awesome outside my window.
I guess I could tell people that life is a constant adventure filled with galavanting around Hollywood and meshing my life with celebrities. But let's be honest. That was really more like my life in New York. I had size 2 jeans, a great paycheck, and lots of people who I called "friends" while others called them "famous."
I do miss all that. But really what I miss are the guys who sat on front stoops grilling outside every day of the Summer, the walkability of everything, sitting outside a restaurant and seeing friends pass by, and the random dudes who would check me out.
Seriously, I think I might miss that the most.
The sensible side of me would suggest that I don't hear cat calls anymore because I have a ring on my finger. But any wise woman will tell you that rings don't dissuade a man from a good opportunity to give a woman a compliment. After all, most common cat calls go something like this.
"You married?"
To which most single women respond, "yes," assuming it will end further questions... to no avail.
"You love him?"
Pretty much I'm in the land of no cat calls because:
A. my days are filled sitting in my apartment with my cat, snacking and typing while wearing my (size 8) sweatpants.
and B., Los Angeles is a city where people drive. Gone are the days of momentary intimate conversations between me and random dudes who likely find joy by hitting on every woman walking down the street.
Every time I'm asked, "Do you miss New York?" - or any time that I think back to my life pre-now - I have to remind myself that it's not just the city that I miss, but it's also the constant surrounding of human interaction, no matter how unwelcome or bizarre. These days my constant interaction is with cupcakes, jelly beans, procrastinating visits to the refrigerator, and brisk walks to the corner Starbucks for my glimpses of crowds, celebrities and the five seconds of real life human communication with someone asking me what size I'd like of my hot chocolate. I even give my real name when they ask.
Things have changed.
I constantly remind myself that if the potential for friends - or even cat calls - is as far in my past as my size 2 pants, then I will be okay. Because I still have my dreams of changing the world, one word at a time, making my never-ending battle with a book seemingly "worth it." I have love in my heart that I share with the few people I see, reminding me that love is grand, even when it seems small in scale. I still hold onto the hope that people everywhere will somehow hear my muffled voice shouting with joy, no matter where I am. But most of all, I have to realize that being in the trenches is often the most teachable part of the journey. And because of that, my dear friends, I cannot forget (although, admittedly, too often I do), that God has not forgotten me, but in fact, He's been blessing me this whole time.