"You’re something special. We all will sing your name. Embrace your darkness, never be ashamed. You’re something special, to be a little fang."
Can’t wait to get our new dining table ahhhhhhhh
Three & a half weeks ago…
I’m moving out of the Echo Park bungalow I’ve lived in for the last six years in two days. And although I am so excited to go and move into a new chapter of my life, I can’t help but feel pangs of sadness. This bungalow saved me. I lived with a heroin addict hoarder Craig’s List hooker when I first moved to LA. There were five drive-bys in four months. I couldn’t afford this place, but I had to move. And it was my dream. This tiny bungalow overlooking the EP Sunset strip. It was more than half of my monthly $1600 income, but I didn’t care. I put my heart and soul into affording a life here.
And then, that tiny dream became just that.
We’re bursting at the seams here, the landlord won’t fix our peeling tub, and we can’t entertain like we’d like to. Dodger fans spend Saturdays puking outside our carport, and the late night parking lot fights of El Compadre have lost their humorous luster.
I’ve wanted to move so badly. It’s all I could think about. I thought about it every day. A new little bit bigger dream. With real wood floors and space for a real dining room table and lots of natural light. I saw it. And ten months later, I have it. It’s mine. It’s every thing I wanted that was within my means.
Well, kinda. Anyone who is renting in LA right now will tell you that barely anything worth while is within their means. I’m back to where I started— spending half of my income on a dream.
I couldn’t be more excited. And so much is happening right now besides the move, that I really haven’t had much time to think about it. But as I sit here, looking at my empty walls and packed boxes, it’s overwhelming. Even though I know I’m moving, into a place I love, I still can’t imagine not being here.
I had my first birthday party in LA in this house. This is where I blogged. This is where all my favorite bands slept on my couch. A few in my bed. This is where I ran home drunk at all hours to, climbing this god forsaken hill. This is where Ben first kissed me while I sat on the kitchen counter. This is where he moved in and we fell in love and this is where we move on.