I recently spent the weekend with some of my extended family in San Diego, and I've noticed that strange things tend to happen to me while I'm there. I actually slept on a firm mattress and ate real food and was that air conditioning- why hello old friend!
Though I get to temporarily pretend that I’m not a starving artist during my visits, I also have to endure the onslaught of questions about where my life is going. Because who chooses to make almost no money while attempting to be a double threat? (I’m totally going to make that a thing.) I have a well-meaning uncle who always insists on asking me when I’m getting married- probably never because it’s largely unappealing to me and because dating in LA- just no. And when I’m going to have children- also never because my body isn’t like this by accident. Also, children are the devil.
And yet after a few days of breathable air and cable, I find that I have to be on my guard because San Diego lulls me into a false sense of security-plus-maybe-domestic-life-isn’t-so-bad haziness. As soon as I get past the traffic, the sky is actually blue, the beaches are clean and San Diego “rush hour” is child’s play. I start to think, this is cool and I should move here immediately, right? Wrong!
The problem is that upon closer inspection, I realize that San Diego, while comforting is in fact contrary to all I hold dear. When I talk to people in LA, our conversations are all “Deadline, Deadline, traffic, traffic, traffic, traffic, Arclight, Arclight seats, Arclight popcorn, pitch meeting, tech avail, brunch, drinks, drinks, drinks, drinks, drinks…” Sometimes I think, Wow, I talk about the industry a lot. I should get a hobby. But then I’m in San Diego and it’s like “Padres, Padres, the border, Gaslamp district, breast pumps, breast feeding, preschool, Deadline- never heard of it, bedtimes, swaddling, Nick Jr., tantrums…” and then I’m like Oh, please no! I want no part of this!
Because when I go to pool parties here, they look like this. Titties everywhere.
But when I went swimming with my cousin and her two adorable kids, it looked like this. Titties everywhere. A night out in LA looks like this, but when you have kids and you leave the house after six PM in San Diego, does it mean sexy times? Nope! It’s this. Saturday mornings. Now add children! As you can see, I’ve basically arrived at the conclusion that San Diego- Hollywood= domesticity/my demise. Needless to say, these moments of weakness are fleeting on my part, because for all the fun of having insurance and my own garage, I still would rather take a chance on doing what I love, even if it involves remakes and zombies and remakes about zombies.