Take These Broken Wings

I was at a going-away party on Saturday night with SJP, for the fiancee of a friend of hers. It was at this amazing house in a very unlikely area of LA; I was going mostly just to hang with SJP, who is leaving me for higher education and boys with cute Boston accents at Harvard at the end of the month. We hadn't been out since the Colin Farrell night, so we had some catching up to do. On the phone, when giving me the instructions for getting directions to the party, she had said that she invited me because I had hung out with her friend and the fiancee before, and that I might meet some "nice people" there. I figured that this meant I was in for another* set-up.

Sadly, it was not meant to be. Upon my arrival, SJP informed me that the prospect (the cute roommate of the fiancee) not only has a girlfriend (drat!), but is also moving to San Francisco with the fiancee. ::sigh:: It was worth a try though, and actually good to know that she has a decent idea of the kind of guy that I should be set up with. So I'm going to entrust her with Boston Boy Scouting responsibilities, so that I can maximize the cute-talking man-buffet when I go visit her sometime in the next year.

(*For some reason, people have been feeling me out for set-up willingness recently. Even one of my bosses - which I thought was really odd. But hey, I'll take it where I can get it - I'm not one to turn down a blind date. Unless of course, it's arranged by The Mother, and then it's an automatic no-go. This is based on an emotionally catastrophic bad date that was set up by said Mother in the summer of 2000. )

The point to this post is that SJP reminded me that I feel the way that I've been feeling every time I get back from Montana. She's known me for a good few years now, and seen me come and go more than a few times. And she's right. I do always do this, and feel this way when I come back from MT. I get a little blue, I hole up in my house for a week or more, I fantasize about getting the heck out and seeing the world. But then something always happens: I get thrown into work, I have a few good nights out, a minute shift shakes up my 5-year plan. Whatever the cause, the result has always been that I remain in LA just a little bit longer.

But this time, I think that I mean it. This time, I think that I have realistic reasons for leaving and ideas of where to go and what to do. I'm not feeling bitter or hateful toward LA, it's just that I don't want to spend the rest of the few Single and Flexible years of my life sitting in one spot - just because I'm fairly comfortable here. You know what they say, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." And damn it, it's about time to venture out...

Lyrics of the Day

"We've got airplane rides, we got California drowning out the window side. We've got big black cars and we've got stories how we slept with all the movie stars. I may take a holiday in Spain, leave my wings behind me. Drink my worries down the drain and fly away to somewhere new." Counting Crows Holiday in Spain

(P.S. I totally meant to herald this post as some sort of event - before I completely forgot to pay attention to it and instead wrote a self-indulgent musing on whether or not to continue living in Los Angeles. Point being - this is my 100TH POST! Cue the trumpets and streamers and confetti and someone alert the marching band that it is time for their entrance. Okay, I guess it's not that big a deal, but I am rather proud of myself for keeping something going regularly for this long, and for making it to this auspicious number of posts. Here's hoping that I have at least a few more in me, and that somewhere along the way I go on a date with someone that I actually like. Cheers.)