Los Angeles is a city without a center with each part of it so vastly different from the next. It's like looking for the whole octopus only to find its dismembered, incongruous tentacles.
And because a great number of people here work directly or indirectly in entertainment, where you live is not so much driven by the location of your job but more by your perception of who you are or want to be.
There's Los Feliz or Echo Park if you are single and hip. There's Downtown if you are single, hip, and a little daring. There's Brentwood if you are married and like it upscale. There's Malibu if you love nature but don't mind a very long commute anywhere you need to be.
Then there's the Valley.
There is no area in L.A. more maligned than the Valley. Before I even stepped foot in California, I knew through various films and songs that there was something like totally uncool about living here. And, you know what? That's fine by me.
The Valley in all its unhipness is the Mayberry of L.A. There are droves of people walking their dogs, bicycling, skateboarding, and jogging. There are families scootering to their local public school in the morning. There are block parties and Fourth of July parades and wiffle ball on front lawns because, unlike a lot of L.A., we actually have front lawns.
Even the traffic on this side of the hill is not as bad. Yes, you are still a prisoner in your car, but at least your sentence is a little shorter here.
And in the Valley there's a red tub with bright yellow lemons, a gift from a neighbor who I haven't met, at least not yet, in our totally tubular section of L.A.
And because a great number of people here work directly or indirectly in entertainment, where you live is not so much driven by the location of your job but more by your perception of who you are or want to be.
There's Los Feliz or Echo Park if you are single and hip. There's Downtown if you are single, hip, and a little daring. There's Brentwood if you are married and like it upscale. There's Malibu if you love nature but don't mind a very long commute anywhere you need to be.
Then there's the Valley.
There is no area in L.A. more maligned than the Valley. Before I even stepped foot in California, I knew through various films and songs that there was something like totally uncool about living here. And, you know what? That's fine by me.
The Valley in all its unhipness is the Mayberry of L.A. There are droves of people walking their dogs, bicycling, skateboarding, and jogging. There are families scootering to their local public school in the morning. There are block parties and Fourth of July parades and wiffle ball on front lawns because, unlike a lot of L.A., we actually have front lawns.
Even the traffic on this side of the hill is not as bad. Yes, you are still a prisoner in your car, but at least your sentence is a little shorter here.
And in the Valley there's a red tub with bright yellow lemons, a gift from a neighbor who I haven't met, at least not yet, in our totally tubular section of L.A.
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