My Move To LA

Last night I had trouble sleeping on account of the raindrops hitting the metal air conditioner cover which effectively channeled the "ping, ping, ping" right into our small apartment.

I got out of bed late and a little frazzled and headed straight for the coffee maker to do something about the fog I was in when water started pouring out of the J-box near the ceiling fan (where I assume another fan or light had been at one time). It's funny that it didn't leak all night and then something on the roof just gave way and lots of water came rushing in.

I remember learning in structures class about the collapse of a flat stadium roof even though it was structurally strong enough to hold the code required pounds per square inch of water. Apparently the wind was pushing the water around (an unforeseen phenomena) and it all began pooling on one end when the weight of the water became too great and the whole thing gave way.

As I stared up at the water pouring into my apartment across the live wires in the ceiling fan and realizing I didn't own a bucket I wondered if the architect that designed the building 80 some years ago had planned for water to pool in large amounts right above apartment 415. I came to the conclusion that he probably didn't so I decided to take the laptop and other small electronics to work with me.

I've called the property management and left messages but there has been no reply. Hopefully when I get home my apartment won't be drenched in the wonderful brown water that is probably still pouring out of the ceiling.

I blame growing up mostly motherless for my lack of empathy and affection. Hugs were always awkward and forced, no one ever said I love you and we weren't the kind of people to tell one another, "I miss you". It's not that we don't love or miss each other, we just don't have to say it.

This has never been a problem until I tried to write my family a holiday card today. It was almost impossible for me to say that I love and miss them. Why? What am I ashamed of? Am I just too tough? Do I not really miss them?

These were all questions I had until I put on the Christmas album our friends Drew and Maggie write new songs for every year and send to all their friends. My favorite song on it this year is titled "It's Love This Christmas" and is about how since they're getting married this summer they can't afford to buy each other extravagant gifts but can't bare the thought of a giftless Christmas. They decide to settle for a lot of love and a little wine with which they can dance all night and feel just right.

Hearing this song made me miss everyone back home terribly. I guess I will get homesick after all.

I just pulled this off of a lamp post on Melrose & Crescent Heights and had one of those "Only in LA" moments. I don't know whether to laugh or cry for him.

Like everything else in Hollywood, Christmas is all about extreme excess. Since Dominic and I both work with some of the wealthiest people on the planet we've had a first hand peek at just how obscene Christmas out here can be.

My colleagues had informed me that Christmas at our school is a big deal and that I would be receiving many gifts but I had NO IDEA it would be like this! I thought little ol' me might get a few gift cards, some cookies, maybe a candle or two. What I ended up with was more than I could ever imagine seeing at Christmas.

At first, I was apprehensive about receiving gifts from the families since gift giving/receiving is not my favorite thing about Christmas, but the school sent out this letter informing the parents that we appreciate their thoughtfulness but gifts would not be necessary. The letter resonated with my views on Christmas and I thought it would be a powerful deterrent but in the end I received gifts from 49 of the 60 families I work with! Some were small and thoughtful, others were big and thoughtful, and some were just obscene! I received them all graciously and am VERY thankful for the gift cards as they will help Dominic and I through a financial squeeze.

As grateful as I am for all the gifts I've received, I can't help but feel uneasy about this tradition of material gifts. My misgivings were affirmed when the "Spirit of Giving" showed its ugly side on Christmas eve.

Prepared to spend the day together Dominic and I were interrupted by his work (his firm does interior design for the rich and famous). He received several frantic phone calls about a side table that needed to be under a certain potty-mouthed celebrity's tree ASAP or there would be hell to pay. A cluster fuck ensued that resulted in Dominic having to pick up the $8,000 side table and delivering it to the delivery guys who were waiting for paint to dry on another piece of furniture for the same family.

During the fiasco I had to play middle man to some phone calls and I asked Dominic's coworker if these celebrities knew that no matter how much money they have it still takes time for paint to dry, and side tables to fly across the ocean? He informed me that they know it but it won't stop them from raising hell about the fact that [Dominic's firm] didn't make it happen faster. And it didn't matter what had to happen or who had to sacrifice, those tables had to make it to their destination by Christmas day because December 25th is so God damned special that if the $8,000 table couldn't be unwrapped on that day it might as well be sent back and Christmas 2008 would be ruined for one multi-millionaire family.

Through hell and high water the pieces arrived by Christmas and the Spirit of Giving is alive and well in one celebrity home, though they may never know how many little people were stepped on and abused to make it happen. Merry Christmas!