return from california

September 20, 2012

I got back Sunday from 5ish days of obligation-free bliss in California and I’ve been bummed out ever since.

I called my mom on my walk home from work on Monday and halfway through started crying. “You always get like this, every time you go back to D.C.,” she said. She’s talking about coming back to the city post-Clark, how everything under the umbrella of the city’s existence reminds me of Clark. That’s not so much the truth anymore, but there’s something to what she’s saying. I’ve dreaded my returns the past few years, and this time was especially hard.

I think it may have something to do with being able to better carve out a distinct version of myself while away. Even though D.C. is my home and I defend the city when people hate on it, I feel a little trapped here and wonder how and when I’ll ever get out. In LA and SF, the things for me to like and eat and feel connected to and be made happy by are different than what I’m used to. They feel like mine alone, when most of what I’m attached to in D.C. is mired in context. Across the country, there’s the Ann Friedman-endorsed coconut-kale smoothie, the avocado surplus, a general uptick in friendly and chill vibes, and cheap karaoke bars. It was perfection.