Save Yourself: Day 6: California Here I Come!

Recently, a friend told me that New York is not a place to heal. "Come home to LA. Rest, hike, workout, sort yourself," he said. Upon processing his advice and the added advice of my mother, I think he's right. New York doesn't treat the confused very well. In fact, it eats up the confused and tosses them on the sidewalk to fester with the rest of the city's trash. This city stinks enough in the summer, so lord knows I do not want to become it's new scent.

Conclusion: I am coming home. (Of course, not for too long as LA can make me a little soft if I stay too long.)

Hopefully, moving west where life is sooooo muchhhhhh slowerrrrr will enable my brain to stop working on drone mode and start thinking for itself again. I used to do so many things before being handcuffed to a desk when I moved here three years ago. You'd think that my arms would look better with all of the typing, but it's quite the opposite--my bicep muscles have atrophied into masses of skin fat and bone. But really, who wants to work out after a 12 to 16 hour day? Who wants to do anything? Do you know that we haven't seen sun in New York for about two years? OK, maybe that's an exaggeration, but if we have seen sun it's only for one bright second out of every million.

I have become lax about everything, but my job and I have nothing to show for all of my commitment. So now, I am committing myself to LA and am going to turn my parents house into a rehab center. I am going to heal, and think, and read, and workout and figure out what the hell I want to do next. I am also going to bring the boys, so they can enjoy grass sans New York's traffic, rainy days and stormy nights.

If you think about it, California has the best rehab centers and I get to check myself in for free with my dogs in tow. One must take advantage of a blessing when it hits them in the face, so that's what I'm doing.

Clarity awaits me 3,000 miles away. California here I come!