Last night I went and enjoyed people-watching at the Taste of Los Feliz booths on Vermont. I've spent most of the time since I came back from NY walking around my neighborhood. I wanted to stay in the habit of using my legs occasionally. Did a little shopping, got a haircut, had a manicure, bought a birthday present for Ashley (Rina's daughter who just turned 5, god bless her little OCD heart), and browsed Halloween costumes at Ozzie Dots. Everything out there for women is just a variation on "Whore."

There's Nurse Whore, Pirate Whore, Maid Whore, Cop Whore...a wide selection, actually. Just, not for me. So I'm trying to come up with something (I'd like to top last year's VICI costume) because there is a dress-up-not-optional party I plan on attending.

Anyway I had a point when I started that paragraph, and this is it: while New York was great, Los Angeles is really really great. And my neighborhood is downright fabulous. This trip has given me a renewed energy. I feel enthusiastic about figuring out where I'm going next, but also happy and thankful (again) for where I am. Coming home to the haze of smog was strangely comforting, and my shuttle from the airport was shared with some very excited (albeit nauseous) visitors, which gave me permission to show off a bit. I think nothing will ever give me a greater sense of hometown pride than pointing out the Hollywood sign and watching someone's reaction upon seeing it for the first time. Like I made it or something.

After the booths were closed last night, I headed up to Skylight Books and picked up the Los Angeles version of my indispensable-for-a-week Not For Tourists Guide to New York. It is the coolest book ever, with plenty of out-of-the-way listings, helpful advice, and detailed maps. Sadly it's not the same handy, discreet size as the NY guide. But I'll mostly use it to help me keep track of all the places in LA I have yet to see, so it's more of a reference that I can leave at home.

God, am I really being this boring right now? It's amazing you're still here. Let's talk about boys already.

I was just thinking last night, "Oh fuck dating, I'm going to be alone for a while." Now, I know I've said it before, but this time it isn't just out of spite. It's out of (I think) a real need to figure things out and break some patterns. But here's the problem: it's only been a few weeks since I stopped seeing someone and I'm already reaching critical mass. I'm sure you can deduce my meaning. Granted, "a few weeks" is longer than I normally spend not dating or at least looking for a date. In fact, I've usually begun to move on before I even move on (I know it's not healthy OR nice but I'm being honest). But this time it was different. It's like I just totally lost interest in dating, intimacy, the whole thing. It's like I ran out of steam. And I didn't even care. So I figured, this is a sign. This means something. But no sooner do I make a pledge to myself--embrace the idea, and formulate plans to relocate to a solitary abode in a small mountain village--than I start to feel the twitch.

It's back. With a vengeance.

What's a girl to do?