Are you one of the lucky people who know where you belong…you’veÂ made yourÂ nest in the world and are happily roosting there? Or were you born with winged feet, constantly pulling up roots before they take hold?Â Â In my case, I’ve tried to clip those wings and make a home in LA for some twelve years now.Â That’s over a decade of geographical commitment and a huge milestone for someone like me. But can you blame me?Â I wake up to blue skies high above palm trees outside my window, and even on days when I wish my name came with actual feathered wings that can fly me beyond these hills, I think I belong in this town. LA is a place for people who belong everywhere and yet nowhere. Lost souls, wandering commitment phobes, and recovering travelers seem to eventually head west andÂ find themselves here…among the million others whoÂ came for the weather.Â Â And stay we do, trapped in the quicksand of traffic jams, smog, fires, mudslides, and crashing economy.Â But what can we do?Â The sky is always blue here, day in, day out.
So why am I sounding soÂ odd today? I call it wanderlust withdrawal; I get it at the end of every trip.Â It’s the opposite of a highÂ I getÂ from arriving at some place for the first time.Â Â When theÂ rush of adventure is replaced by the familiarity of reality and home, I get a little blue.Â I’m roaming on empty.Â And then I have to unpack.Â Why can’t I justÂ get jet lag like a normal person?
Give me another day to get my head back and I’ll blog about my souvenirs from this trip and my plans for the next adventure!