How I Discovered the Bomb and Decided to Move to the Mountains and Make My Own Booze

Photo by Eda Aksoy

LA and I broke up and I've moved to Richmond.

Richmond was an accident, of course, but if you must know, it just wasn't working with Los Angeles. You could say we parted ways because of artistic differences. That we were heading in different directions. But in reality, I was miserable. It takes two to make a relationship really work, and LA just wasn't giving me the commitment I needed. We fell into a routine and I'm not going to lie to you, it involved a lot of TV and whooooole lotta chocolate. We really stopped going out too. And when we did it was forced and uncreative. That part is kind of my fault. Admittedly, I was working long hours and when I came home I just didn't have the energy to really do anything. But c'mon! Someone has to pay for that lifestyle!

I did try to make it work. Really. I did. I was

exercising, staying in shape, making more time to spend quality time. But, I just didn't feel like I was getting as much as I was giving. When an enticing offer came from some place else.... I took it. I'm not proud. I know what some of you must be thinking. But you just can't keep beating a dying horse! That's animal cruelty and I'm against it.

Call it quitting. Call it cowardly even. I call it evolution. I had reached a point where I realized that there was no rat race. No one cared if I stayed or went. And I don't mean that in a depressive, suicidal kind of way. I mean that everyone is so wrapped up in their own life, in their own game, that I wasn't "winning" by hanging on by the skin of my teeth. The only one who was losing was me.

So, I left. I planned an amazing road trip, clubbed my unsuspecting friend over the head and dragged him with me, and had a great week on the road.

And how did I end up in Richmond? Well, I ask myself that everyday.

Sometimes I miss LA. Especially when people look at me funny for wearing stilettos to Target. Or when I'm waiting outside some place, car running, expecting a valet who never shows up. I think this is normal in any separation, though. It takes time.

I'm in this place now, and that's what matters. I'm starting over, again, which is also very exciting. I'm figuring some stuff out. Getting my feet back on the ground. Planning my next move. Trying not to go crazy or get fat.

Stay tuned.