blame it on la

The word on the street is that LA is the place to be. At least, that's what I'd been told all my life. Me personally, I'm an east coast kind of guy and never had any real plans to move here. That was until the ugly spectre of unemployment reared it's head. Not gonna lie, that guy can make you do some wacky things. Now it's two years later and I've lost an awesome New York apartment, a lucrative, but soul crushing job, my girlfriend, my self respect, and my desire to interact with people. I'm sure I've got plenty more to lose before this year is over. I've done the requisite one year adjustment period that I've been told is the norm to embrace this place and I still can't seem to find love for earthquake central. Ahhhh, solitude, our love/hate relationship is so very complicated, you're always so coy with your siren song that goes something like this "You just need some me time, man!" It's only then that I crash up on your jagged rocks of loneliness and realize that you're kind of full of it. Ok, holy mellodrama! It's not that bad, really.

So here we are, July fourth. Has this day ever fallen on a Wednesday? It seems almost rude for the calender to plant this day in the middle of the week, forcing us all to stay relatively sober on one of summer's most anticipated drinking days. In order to function at work on Thursday. It's almost annoying that there isn't someone in charge of holiday scheduling, because true to the American way, I would fully write them a strongly worded letter to have them place our nation's Birthday on a weekend where it belongs in addition to getting some sort of refund! That's just something I'd do for the people, as I do love to give back. Sadly that's not an option, so I suppose we'll all have to deal.