los angeles ... briefly

What would L.A. be without amazing graffiti? 

Downtown L.A. -- our former home -- at twilight.

Tater, our cactus, who is now being lovingly cared for by a friend.

Storefront on Santa Monica Boulevard.

Joshua tree in Llano.

La Cienega Boulevard, looking up to the hills.

This past weekend, I went to L.A. for 48 hours for a job interview to be a public relations specialist for the city of L.A. Well, actually, it was a test to weed out candidates. Roughly 50 people took the two-part exam at Fairfax High. I'm not going to lie. It was challenging, and I'm not sure how I did. I've got a lot of people hoping and praying for me, though.

That said, the most memorable part of the trip wasn't the three-plus hours I spent in that classroom. It was driving in L.A. Walking downtown. Sitting on porches at friends' houses. Catching up over a beer or two. Seeing new graffiti. Absorbing the sun. 

I felt free for the first time in a long time. There's something about living someplace so large. There's so little judgment. No one stares at you if your hair is messed up. Or you don't speak English. Or you have 20 tattoos. Or you limp. There are too many different people for the minor shit to matter. I drove nearly 300 miles this weekend. Ontario. Pasadena. Downtown L.A. West Hollywood. Palmdale. Inglewood. My window was down, the camera at my side.

It was in the upper 50s, lower 60s in the mornings. The wild succulents, squirrels and birds soaked up the morning rays as I drank my coffee. There's a reason people who move to California never move back. And there's a reason people who leave California never stop yearning for it.