A friend suggested I check out South Park. I did. (YES, I looked for Cartman. No, I haven’t seen him.) It reminded me of my hometown in PA immediately. If you are from PA – take West Chester and Phoenixville and a bit of Manayunk, mix them together, and you’ve got South Park, San Diego. Cafes, local artists, breakfast houses, chill pubs and bars, vintage shops, progressive up-cycled shops, local in season restaurants…tree lined streets (and not just palm trees either, real “tree-trees” East coast style). I love this town. I can’t believe I didn’t know about this place six months ago…but how would I? When you move cross country and don’t know anyone, you don’t know where to go…or what town will fit you the best. You just have to keep trying them on like clothes until you find the right fit. Seven months later, I’ve finally found my spot.
Another new beginning…
I’ve moved! Again! Third time is the charm, right? I am still in the lovely glorious state of California, in San Diego but I’ve moved to another town. Since arriving on the West Coast at the end of January, I’ve felt like I was floating. Fresh starts and new surroundings are always exciting, but at times uneasy. I think over the past 6 to 7 months, while I’ve definitely felt at home here with the weather and the surroundings, I’ve felt suspended…like a trapeze artist floating through San Diego. Meeting people, getting lost, discovering new places, working, getting lost, finding real friends, networking, getting in and out of situations…it’s been a rollercoaster at times.
I love La Jolla – the town I moved to originally – but I really longed for a neighborhood vibe. La Jolla is a beautiful beach town, but also a major tourist attraction, and higher up in the price bracket. I was truly longing for a community…a space that felt like me…a more relaxed place where everyone knows my name…Ted Danson style:
I love my apartment, it’s old and retro, with the original hardwood floors and a seafoam green counter top in the kitchen. I can’t wait to show you photos of how I’m going to deck it out! Looking forward to having my first raw food event shortly and will definitely share lots of pics and recipes.
Here are a few photos I took while walking down my street, hopefully it gives you a feel for the vibe. More to come!
Door to my neighbor’s house
There’s a canyon in my backyard 🙂
My neighbors are miniature Van Gogh’s
On the fitness front, I fell off the workout wagon for a couple days with the move, the timing on exiting my old apartment and moving into the new one didn’t coincide, so I slept on a friends couch with my packed-full-of-stuff car on her street for a short stint. Not having a kitchen makes for limited food choices, and moving stress makes for not caring. Hey, nobody’s perfect. I think I ate a ridiculous amount of goldfish crackers last Saturday…I’m surprised I didn’t turn orange. Man. There have been days. There have been days out here when I’ve just wanted to pack it all up and move back East. Days where everything imaginable goes wrong, I feel like a complete and utter failure and I think I have no one to call for help. I have no “Mom’s house” to fall back on for support. I have no brother to call to meet me at the gym for workout motivation. When you feel like you don’t know anyone, or that no one really REALLY knows you, it makes it hard to reach out for help. But good people are everywhere. Sometimes pride really is such a deadly thing and I’m learning to ask for help when I need it. I am. I’m a work in progress. I’ve also learned over the past 4 weeks that I really do have some incredible friends here. People who showed me I could count on them, without even saying it. A friend who showed up when no one else did and turned a bad situation into a great one. Another friend who lent me her couch, her shower and her love. A friend who helped me move (again). A friend who told me I always had a place to stay with her. Another friend who just lends an ear and advice when I show up at her salon on the fly and drink free coffee. A coach, friend and trainer who sends me texts to tell me that I’m doing great on the days when I think I’ve completely failed.
I am so grateful for good friends…good people.
I was riding in the car with my friend Jayson and I don’t even remember what we were talking about but I said something to the effect of, “oh I always did that at home…” and without missing a beat he said, “you mean in PA.”
That was the first time I realized that in order for this to feel like my home, and to become my home, I need to treat it that way. CA is my (new) home. I can’t fully be here and enjoy life if I’ve got one foot on the East Coast. Or a “if this doesn’t work, or I fail miserably, I can just go back East” mantra in my head.
Sure it’s tempting sometimes. My Mom and brother are there, and they’re like extensions of my body. Seriously. We are that close. I know my life there. I know the town. I never get lost. I know Philly like the back of my hand. I know how to get to NYC without getting stuck in traffic. I know the best place to get sushi or Mexican or Vietnamese. I know how to get to the Jersey Shore without getting stuck in traffic. When a band is playing a show, I actually KNOW where the venue is. I hear all about concerts on the radio here, but I have no clue where to even go to see them.
It’s about time I learned though, don’t you think? Google and I are steadily becoming BFF’s.
So here’s to celebrating the amazing new discoveries in my life, letting go of the trapeze, following my internal GPS and just jumping in… with both feet this time.
“…if my life is for rent, and I don’t learn to buy, well I deserve nothing more than I get, cause nothing I have is truly mine…”
It’s time to buy. Thanks for listening. Raw food posts up next!