I can't has cheezburger

It’s a little bit mind blowing to me that two weeks ago was Thanksgiving day (edit: I started writing the post two days ago.).  I had to look at my calendar widget in disbelief to make sure I hadn’t missed a week in there, but no, it really has only been two weeks.  Since then I emptied my apartment (much of which was already emptied with my aunt’s help) and drove a packed-to-the-brim Jetta 2000 miles across the country (well, maybe not quite across since I started in the middle, but a jaunt nonetheless) to pursue my dreams out West.  It’s the stuff songs by young people are made of.

When I initially arrived in Santa Monica, I was pretty exhausted from a good 12 hours of driving, and after driving through some really freaking wide open spaces, the neighborhood felt super cramped.  Overall the vibe was one of not much personal space.  My weary mind was already starting to wonder what I had gotten myself into, but I was invested in it, and there was no backing out (plus I recognized that feeling as the same one I felt when I first arrived in Germany for the Münster Semester and the feeling was quickly replaced with much happier ones, so I knew that this too shall pass).

After a good night’s sleep and going out and meeting the people I was to be working with, my attitude did a complete 180.  I had breakfast and BSed a bit with my recruiter, then we went over to the Unsubscribe headquarters where I would be working. I met the rest of the team, and really felt at ease.  There’s just something about seeing the faces of people you already know from another communication medium that puts the mind at ease.  They showed me around the place (it’s a small place, so that didn’t take long) and I headed back to my apartment to unpack.  Once I finished that (and by that, I mean I emptied my car and had everything in a gigantic pile in my room) I took a walk downtown to the Promenade (which is the street the office is at) to see how long it would take me to walk there (it’s just 13 blocks, so I’d feel lazy if I drove (confession: I drove today, but I usually walk)).

First impressions of Santa Monica:

1. The worst part of driving is the nightmare of finding parking.

2. Parking tickets suck (I got one already).

3. Watch out for the crazies on the streets.  If someone approaches me my current escape strategy is to pretend to only speak German (because what are the odds of a crazy in LA knowing German?  If they do know German, I’ll start adding various random phonemes to my words to make it sound like another Germanic language).

So far, I feel like this was one of my wiser life decisions.  It’s tough to walk away from a good thing, and I walked away from a lot of good things when I decided to leave the Midwest.

Peace out.  Namaste.