Upon an L.A. Arrival
More than anything else, the expanse below me is familiar, forever within me, whether I want it to be or not. Even the city exploding over the hills and suffocating in the haze is home. Hundreds of miles north, I still feel it, this sense in my blood. Down below, the pure Californianess of it all, the golden hues, the marching oaks and the wrinkled mountains and the blankets of concrete. All of it.
Every one of these valleys houses a story of mine. Everywhere, as far as the eye can see, a recollection. Every hillside crease, every orchard row, every meandering backroad, every freeway lane, every island in the blue distance. Each stirs a memory.
More than anything else, the expanse below me is familiar, forever within me, whether I want it to be or not. Even the city exploding over the hills and suffocating in the haze is home. Hundreds of miles north above that Bay and over the hills, across that fertile but sweltering valley, I still feel it, this sense in my blood. Down below, the pure Californianess of it all, the golden hues, the marching oaks, the wrinkled mountains and the blankets of concrete. All of it.
Other lands have their airborne beauty. Portland is a welcoming toy wedged between volcanoes and rivers. New York is grand, inspiring and forever, but it simply isn't mine. The Midwest is something hidden on forgotten highways between the quilted fields.
But my heart still eases above California. My mind wanders some line between memory and dreams. California is so very much a place created, remembered, and reconstructed, forever. It's almost as if these towers and ballfields and warehouses store pieces of me, shards of identity shimmering and vibrating as I draw nearer.
So, it makes sense as I settle in here that I re-imagine myself yet again, that, once more, I reintroduce myself to the world. For nothing is more California than starting over again. Once again.
California isn't everything. California isn't even home. But California is, for me, the beginning.
Again.
Of course, I'd be lying if I said I didn't start my blog, reorganize myself, and begin from scratch again, and again, and again.
But that's my only option.
Starting Again.
Until I can't.
So, for now, again, here it is, myself as best as I know myself right now, right here.
In California. Right. Back. Where. I started from.
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The Thinkingest Heads Home
In what may be boring or may be genius, I serve as my own guest on the latest edition of the Thinkingest podcast. This week, I discuss with myself what home means to me, and all the different ways I can identify home, and just how much I'm thinking about what might be my next home. It's an amorphous topic, but take a listen for a peek at all the little gears turning around in my mind. And don't forget to check out past episodes of the Thinkingest here at Lascher at Large, subscribe to the feed at Feedburner or iTunes. Like it or hate it, why not leave me a review on iTunes? And if you like it, please share it. My apologies if you hate it. I'll try not to think too hard about it.
[audio:http://lascheratlarge.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/Episode-3.mp3]
In what may be boring or may be genius, I serve as my own guest on the latest edition of the Thinkingest podcast.
This week's topic is "Home." Listen in as I discuss with myself what home means to me, and all the different ways I can identify home. Find out just how much I'm thinking about what might be my next home. It's an amorphous topic, but take a listen for a peek at all the little gears turning around in my mind.
And listen all the way through to find out what kickball, content vending, apartment hunting, books and my love life have in common.
Thanks for listening. Don't forget to check out past episodes of the Thinkingest here at Lascher at Large, subscribe to the feed at Feedburner or iTunes. Like it or hate it, why not leave me a review on iTunes? And if you like it, please share it. My apologies if you hate it. I'll try not to think too hard about it.
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