i despise l.a....but have perfect nails doing it

i'm still in california and am reminded daily that i hate l.a.
while i have always dreamed of living in california, i have never once dreamed of living in l.a., and have been sure, also always, that i would never set foot near here if i had the chance to.
this city is crowded...no i take that back...this city is past being comfortably full.
simple everyday tasks are slowed by traffic, searching for a simple parking spot, walking from your 2 mile away parking spot to your destination, and dealing with the bumps and bruises on the way. while some people are nice, others are often crude, and rude. the sun never seems to shine fully here, it is blocked by a constant haze of smog that blankets the city. the only time i have ever come here in my life is to visit my grandpa (god rest his soul), and my grandma and step-grandpa. these are also the only times i ever plan to visit again.

though the same population argument could be made for san francisco, i stand by my love for it. there is a completely different mood that you feel when you are there. whenever i visit the tightly packed city, i am not panicked and afraid like i am in l.a. i am calm, content, and almost enlightened. i will be flying there tomorrow to visit my aunt and uncle, and am so ready. i am determined to go on an adventure by myself. this shall be a voyage of self discovery, and independence.

by the way: in case you were wondering....a day with my grandma was just what i needed apparently. i usually dont care too much about being pampered, but after she insisted that i have a manicure (my nails are perfectly polished bright red now), and a trim of my hair and bangs (she hated that she could no longer see the "big brown eyes" that i got from her), i felt anew again, oddly. it's been a year and a half since scissors have touched my hair, except for the occasional self trimming of my bangs, and it needed it BADLY. the second i stepped into the beauty salon, everyone knew me already. i knew i had been there already, about 8 years ago, and was surprised that my grandmother's manicurist remembered me. it felt like a scene from steel magnolias. all i heard left and right was "oh, this is rachel?!" "the last time i saw you, you were up to here" "you're from texas, right? you don't have an accent!"
this went on while were were there for close to 3 hours, and everyone warmly hugged me goodbye and said that they would see me next time. i was dazed.
a quick shopping trip later (i acquired my first cashmere sweater upon the insistance of my grandma again), and we were at bert's. this is by far one of my favorite deli's. coming from a strong jewish background, i really really appreciate a good deli. and since the best one in dallas closed a couple of years ago, i haven't been able to find one to equal it. a couple of pickles, a bagel with lox and cream cheese, a few onions and tomatos later, and i was perfectly content. you could kill me now and i could be a perfectly content, perfectly manicured, trimmed, and comfortably outfitted half jew.

im sure that my next post from san francisco will be longer and ecstatic, so be prepared