Day One in the City of Angeles

Well I am finally here, in LA. I am still slightly in shock; I can't believe a. the summer is over and b. I'm finally here.

Now that I'm here I keep walking around with my breath held and my mouth agape - I feel as though this is some dream, some far-off event that always seemed so far away I'd convinced myself it was never going to happen (similar to my twenty-first birthday). I'm partially afraid that I'm going to wake up and I'll be either in Boston or New Jersey.

The place where I'm residing, Oakwoods Toluca Hills, is absolutely beautiful. Secure, gated, tons of things to do, and most enjoyably, a convenience store that sells alcohol. I have my first interview tomorrow at 2pm with Oil Factory, and I am incredibly excited. I emailed Radical Media to set up an interview, but have yet to hear back, and I need to contact FreeMantle. I've not heard from Digital Kitchen but it's okay because they really don't have a suitable program for me anyway.

This place is slightly culture-shocking. Lots more Spanish. It's almost refreshing, actually - my butt needs some more culture. Everyone that I've met so far is exceedingly pleasantly. Many people have this slick, MexiBaja kind of accent that I find rather alluring. It makes me feel very aware of my own dialects and accent - might as well tattoo 'East Coaster' on my forehead.

More than anything I am affronted by the overwhelming peace I feel here. From the second I stepped off the plane I felt as though I fit, even though I was walking around with my head on a swivel and my jaw on my knees. Part of me wants to love it here, I want this to be the best, most rewarding, most enjoyable four months of my life. Another part of me, a devilish, loyal part of me, wants to hate it here so I am not destined to be so far away from everything I've known and love my whole life.

Perhaps I am getting ahead of myself. I have been here for six hours, after all. But it's been pleasant, aside for arriving to check in and finding that I didn't check in until tomorrow. But this just leaves more time to go to Target later. My father and I are absolutely exhausted. The flight, which we woke up at 4:30 am EST to catch, left us in LAX at 10:30 am PST so really it feels like 6pm. I have not slept well for some time, and there were two little boys on our flight who felt the need to shriek almost constantly. We are tired, therefore we are holed up in his room drinking Sierra Nevada watching Rutger's football (albeit painfully - Cincy is working us over).

To everyone back at home, I miss you, and I wish you all the best as you gear up for fall semester, most of you it being your last. Please write. I'll post my address tomorrow when I actually know what it is. And I apologize well in advance for drunk dials that may occur at 6am, or thereabouts.

Be well,
Nik