A Rainy Day in LA

Posted on January 19, 2010

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I love when the rain comes to Los Angeles. For minutes, hours of we are lucky, the eternal sunshine of our very spotted minds blurs into a dreary and wet downpour, the sky is falling chicken little, the sky is falling. Freeways become a mangled mess of metal, people stay inside, umbrella’s with cobwebs come out, if we own an umbrella at all. The only reason I have an umbrella is because it came with the Mercedes. Now the Mercedes is gone, the umbrella has come in handy. Ha. Who would have thought.

It’s been over two weeks now since I’ve bid farewell to the car, and to be honest, the only real difference is that I no longer have to search for parking each night. Aside from no longer paying for car insurance, or worrying about street sweeping, I’ve been getting around just fine. I’ve met some of the most wonderfully colorful people on the bus, an old lady claiming she’s the daughter of an Egyptian Ambassador, she’s now staying at the Gay and Lesbian Center in Hollywood, her bus pass didn’t work for some reason so I threw the dollar 25 in and sat down next to her for a chat. I met a guy named DJ from DC who insisted upon giving me his number, when I told him I’m involved he said perhaps I have a lady friend I can pass it on to. I met two junkies who have spent years beating themselves up with sunshine and needles, the woman’s eyes barely opened as the guy asked why they’d close down Hollywood Blvd. I ran into people I know, and people I don’t want to know, seen road rage from a distance and become thankful not to be a participant of that world. The day will come when I can afford a car once again, and who knows whether I’ll get one or not. It just doesn’t feel like that big a deal anymore.

I spent this rainy day eating cupcakes and watching John Wayne movies with my guy, he lives down the street from a cupcake joint and knows how much I love them, (the pajama pants covered in cupcakes especially bought to wear on rainy or sad days is a dead give away….), I had a cookies and cream cupcake and an english toffee cupcake, and the sugar hurts my head like the shirley temples did the other night. Funny how sensitive I’ve become. My caffeine tolerance, however, is surprisingly high, and I’m sure I’d only know the effects of it if I were to quit drinking it. Kind of like alcohol. I never realized how much I depend on the stupid liquid to make me fit in, or help me socialize or relax or any of that until I quit drinking it. Fun times trying to readjust to adulthood sans alcohol. My day with caffeine may or may not come. Cigarettes on the other hand…

I had quit smoking cigarettes in 2007, but looking back, I guess I didn’t really quit because I started smoking so many blunts my nicotine intake didn’t really change. I went on the patch and smoked at least an eighth of pot a day, at least…. I tried to quit again back in September, but to no avail, I just wasn’t ready. I had originally set my quit smoking date at my year sobriety date, April 6th, and I think I jumped the gun on quitting. I was excited. I thought, “well shit, I can quit drinking, quit drugging, quit fucking, I bet I can quit smoking too. I am a quitting fucking queen.” Turns out I’m not, I’m just human. So I’ve embraced cigarettes for the time being, and once my year sobriety date rolls around, those will be out the door as well.

Growing up is so funny. Every day I find something else that effects my body. My bones get achy with the rain. My throat gets dry when I turn on my heater. If I have too many cupcakes or shirley temples, I wake up with a sugar hangover and regret the choices of the previous day. Awareness is a bitch. At least that’s what I hear in the vast rooms of recovery.

I’m really enjoying being aware though. Tonight, I went through all my bank statements, looking for unusual charges and jotting them down for my adventure to the police department tomorrow. I’ve waited until now so that I may walk in there with a cool head and not break down crying. It’s never good to file a police report crying over money, I would assume it makes it harder than it needs to be. I want to be cool and collected, handle this like a business transaction, because that’s what it is. The most disturbing thing I’ve learned, by going through all these statements, is that two of the transactions actually took place at a Chase ATM, at a fucking bank, and they still denied me. A bank I’ve never even been to, in an area I never frequent, but… again… awareness is a bitch, so here I am, aware of where I’ve been and where I haven’t been, able to recall what I’ve been doing on certain days and I gotta say that feels pretty good.

So it’s off to bed to dream of police reports and paint brushes, tomorrow after I file and hit a meeting, I’ll be spending the afternoon finishing the Golden Gate and organizing my comfortably cluttered home. And even though it’s quit raining, I can still hear the water slushing in the streets as cars pass my house. My little happy apartment in Hollywood, it’s nice to know where I am. Goodnight folks….xo

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Posted in: Good Days