I've lived in Malibu, confided to a "studio apartment" in the corner of a mansion, on acres of land that hosted horses and a rooster. And it was more "in the middle of nowhere" than my hometown of Jamestown, NC, in which I at least didn't have to drive fifteen minutes before I hit something other than the homes of millionaires.
I've lived in Eagle Rock - well, more so unofficially housesat in Eagle Rock for a hipster couple that I never met, in a cute little one-story house with more records than I'd ever seen at once in my life, fruit trees in the backyard, quirky decor and stray kittens. I ironically felt at home in that house of a stranger.
I've lived in Hawthorne, in a cozy little Marriott. So close to the airport that the planes fly right above us on the freeway, almost like they're going to land right ahead of me. There's free breakfast and daily maid service, and surprisingly non-claustrophobic. I feel like I've been here much longer than I actually have.
And by the end of the week, if all goes well, I'll be living in Culver City. And hopefully be settling in Culver City, at least until March, and finally, our living situation won't be week-to-week, but rather there's five months of at least some kind of stability ahead of us. I wouldn't trade the adventure of it for anything, but it's nice to see an apartment of our own in the horizon. It's been a journey - I anticipate it still will be. But slowly but surely, we're getting somewhere, and it's making for one heck of a story.
Not many other people can say they've lived in four different cities over the course of a month, after all. To state it simply, it's cool. But I am ready now to settle into this new place, and see what other aspects of my life adventure will rile up.
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