People are Strange

So it’s been over a year now in LA and I’m slowly starting to take life here for granted.  I’m no longer in awe of seeing mountains on my way to brunch, I don’t look up at palm trees on my way to the store and I’ve stopped staring at the orange, lemon and banana trees I pass on the train.  I’ve also come to accept that there are parts of this city that look like war zones right next to areas that look like paradise, with all types of people living side-by-side. It’s been tough getting acclimated with such a range in demographics, topography and no grid system whatsoever.  If I could use my GPS while on foot, I would.

I am also no longer surprised by the people I encounter in this city either.  It was really unnerving at first to have everyone and their mother talk to me.  I’m used to Chicago where avoiding eye contact is standard practice.  Here, people will ask you how you are and will actually wait for the answer!  Naturally, I assume everyone who speaks to me is trying to rob me but so far, it’s been all good.  People will talk to me no matter what I’m pretending to do. I’m sitting on the train, avoiding eye contact, googling on my phone and people start asking me how my day is, if I know the baby’s gender, if the baby’s daddy is in my life etc etc.  And not just dudes! Although for whatever reason teenage boys have started to hit on me.  I’m guessing it’s because they think I’m easy since I’m knocked up.  Gotta love teenage boy rationale.  But anyway, it’s all types of people. I’ve had so many people ask me how my day is that I’ve actually started to tell them. Everything. Every minute detail of my horrid job. And they listen patiently and ask me follow up questions, it’s insane! Jose has this same experience but usually it’s at the beach and he’s in Orange County so that just doesn’t seem as surprising. But I am in f*cking LA man!  This is totally unexpected!  I’ve even started chatting up random people! For example, when I see slutty pre-teens on the train or straight up gangsta girls I just start interviewing them. Like, how the f* did you turn out like this? And if they don’t say their momma was a crackhead I press for details.  Like, wtf went wrong??? They usually reassure me that my kid will not be like them, and that’s always nice to hear. Even if it is coming from a 15 year old with tattoos on her face.

  

I’m wondering if I will become one of this nice do-goody types and will not be able to handle cities I adore like New York anymore.  All the locals here hate NY because new yorkers are “mean”.  Mean to me usually means hilarious. And “nice” usually means naive. I don’t want to change!!  And the scariest part is my kid will be growing up here!  She is going to be those super nice people I am so suspicious of (why are you helping me???? WHAT IS YOUR ANGLE!!!).  My friend Lesley who’s from SoCal is one of the nicest people I know.  But when I met her back in Chicago, I assumed she was full of sh*t, no one is that nice.  I couldn’t trust her for a long time. Now seeing her here, in her element, surrounded by the happy people of LA, it makes more sense, she’s not an anomaly, she’s actual pretty normal for SoCal.  Yea, I definitely cannot let the snakes outta my hair here, though I still get enraged from time to time. But it’s a rare occurrence and it’s usually short-lived. Being a b*tch here makes you look crazy. It makes you look like a miserable, crazy person who should move back to the east coast and live in a tiny apt w/ cats.  Yep, it is that happy of a town. That is until it rains and LA turns into a f’ing zombie apocalypse