Boring but not bored in L.A.

When I listen to Iron & Wine (trapeze swinger), I feel like I should be staring out of the window at something distant and invisible in the horizon, or at a photograph of a lost love... I am in Los Angeles. In my hotel room. My bed is very comfortable. Television is boring and has nothing to offer me.

The euphoria that I felt earlier has faded. I am still very happy, even after a glance in the full length mirror at myself and my swollen belly as I was changing, having consumed an overpriced asian chicken salad, minus the chicken-- might have felt more worth it if it had chicken, but then I wouldn't have eaten it, so, there you go. I contemplated room service, but that just seemed like too much. I went out looking for a drugstore and should have taken advantage of a not super delicious looking burrito place called "Cilantro's."

I feel like whenever I am at home, I'm always daydreaming about being somewhere else. Being out of context there is so much processing happening, I think it's so wonderful and stimulating to take in new sights and surroundings, even if it's in pretty mundane situations... and I find myself pretending that I am starting a new life whenever I'm visiting a new city. It's funny. All I ever want to do is find someplace comfortable and stay there, but I want to do this is a million different locations. There also something wonderful about walking around in an unfamiliar place without knowing a soul (I know Natalie, but she and I had parted ways for the evening).

Anyhow, it's been nice. I fell asleep immediately on the plane; the flight was super short. I went for a lovely jaunt while looking for contact lens solution to replace the stuff that leaked out of the travel bottle and all over my bag. I was calling and texting and giggling and grinning at strangers on the street, taking pictures on my cell phone of my bed. Speaking of...

this is my exciting hotel room.

this is right down the street.

and this... and this...

this is what it looks like outside of my bedroom window back at home. It's a little fuzzy in light of recent events. Isn't it lovely? I will return to it soon. I'm tired. I'm going to read and go to sleep and wake up in a bed that I've never slept in before. This is great.

I overheard a lady who was exiting the elevator refer to me as a "pretty little girl" to the gentleman who was accompanying her. I initially suspected that she was drunk, as she seemed confused about how to the elevator operated. Upon hearing her say this I decided that drunk or no, she is probably the nicest person in L.A.