gray may.

I always forget about this time of year, an entire month of general dreariness. This May it was particularly hideous, not so much because of the weather, but because my own state of mind was rather "gray." I know life is not without its stretches of generalized dissatisfaction, and they can often be rather lengthy, but it's been awhile since I've really questioned whether I want stay in L.A. for the long haul--like I did this month. Part of the reason I started this blog was because I wanted to believe there is more to living here than movie stars, boob jobs and 75 degrees and sunny every day of the year.

And of course, there is. There's earthquakes and mud slides and wildfires, too. Kidding. There is an incredible amount of art and culture, intellectual life (stop laughing) and kind, down-to-earth people (really, stop laughing). But I think the thing about L.A., and what I've known for awhile, is that what you're surrounded by in other cities and take for granted--you have to work to find in L.A.

I don't know. I was just really struck this month that, as fascinating as this city can be, it can also be the loneliest place on earth. I know that the more technologically advanced we all become, the more isolated we become, too. But I think that factor is really more acute here. It's not like you can just walk out the door and bop into some bar or coffee shop--you have to make plans to go somewhere. Datable guys don't really cross your path every day--you have to get on the internet.

I don't know, maybe I was just really hit by the lonelies this month. Or maybe in talking to my dad and my sister about being 40 and feeling like I should own a house by now, they both reminded me I still have all this freedom that they, as homeowners and family-headers, don't. Freedom is awesome, but it can also be incredibly frightening.

But I always have to remember, I'm not alone. There are a couple of excellent women at work who always have my back and listen to me, and the great group of people I get together with at the Farmer's Market every Sunday. And when I was feeling particularly horrific a couple of weeks ago, I came home to find not one, but two packages on my deck--the new Apartment Therapy book and a quartet of red velvet cupcakes. Thanks, mom.

Oh well, I'm sure this will all pass. Who knows where I'll end up? And actually, it's quite lovely today.