It’s been a week since I moved to L.A. I’m getting used to a new job, the culture of LA, and my own space. I miss my family and friends an awful lot.
As a creature of habit, I got used to my routines, however painful they had become over the last couple of months. I used to listen to my audiobooks in the 90 minute commute to and from work. My days would seem to go faster than normal squeezing in a run after work. I get home and listen to my mother’s one sided conversation. I’d take a nap if others were busy arguing. Mornings I’d wake up earlier to avoid crowding up onto someone’s shower time. I left home before others woke up.
It’s been difficult adjusting to my own space. It’s very quiet, and for the first time in a long time I could hear myself think. I control my time and space. The food I put in my body, and when I eat. I am listening to my body and rest when I’m tired.
I need to figure out how to be less dependent on others for transportation. Once I figure out how to get around and establish a habit, I’ll be solid.
The new job is the least difficult to adjust since I had forgotten how it felt like to be presumed competent, and acknowledged for my work. I miss co workers but feel suffiently connected to the work to not miss being in the office.
At 6am in LA, I wake up worried I need to catch up with work. My cat has at least adjusted to the time difference, and no longer wakes me up at 3am PST.
At 7pm the ice cream truck rolls by, and I hear the neighborhood kids running to it. On the daily.
I’ve resumed running again, and getting use to the neighborhood routes. I miss the steady quiet trails of Van Cortland Park and Moshulu Parkway, but I’m excited to get to know the neighborhood by foot.