Two months in San Francisco and nothing. Nothing to describe how I felt for those two months. It’s almost like my ideas didn’t exist. Tam and I were talking today about how lucky we are for this job; we really are. Not only do we have a job - something 10% of Californians do not have, but we have a great job, traveling all over the United States doing makeup for seven hours a day. Pinch me. The first week in San Francisco was hard. Harder than leaving Missouri. I was so homesick for LA and its’ sun and knowing where I am and my routine and my roommates and the Dome, I couldn’t really begin to even think about enjoying San Fran until the second week in. I eventually found my groove and I was able to enjoy some great things about the city, San Fran has GREAT food, some of the best I’ve had in a long time. I ate authentic dim sum, Chinese dumplings, real ramen and some fantastic California wine. I ate cheese and salami and bread and persimmons, some great Indian food and pounds of deliciousness from the Whole Foods food bar. Speaking of pounds, I picked up a few of those as well. Luckily, the last 10 days in San Fran I lived with Zara, another fantastic makeup artist on the tour , and every morning before work I ran the enormous hills of Pacific Heights, hoping to shake off some of those pounds. I grew to like SF towards the end; the weather was more forgiving, not great, but sunny more often than rainy, and the wind would cease every so often. And in the mornings, it felt like I had the whole city to myself, the running path down by the water was beautiful with a fantastic view of the Golden Gate Bridge, and when I finally ventured out to other neighborhoods, I found myself right in front of the Painted Ladies from the infamous opening shot of Full House. I had all these amazing images and memories of the bridges, the Trans America Building (the pyramid building!! Call your mother!) the Painted Ladies, Alcatraz, the Wharf, Sausalito, Chinatown, Russian Hill, Lombard…so much more. I loved driving across the Bay Bridge every morning and evening; it was my time to collect myself and my thoughts and the views of the bay in the morning are spectacular (when the fog has lifted). SF is a very visual city. They have the oldest ballet company in the U.S. as well as a wonderful orchestra. But it’s no LA. I couldn’t WAIT to get home. The second I was able to, I left SF and made the 6 hour drive south. I was so excited I screamed. When I finally hit the grapevine mountain range that separated me from that glorious dirty shallow city, I cried. I even tried to make myself stop crying, but I couldn’t. I love LA. While the people may be shallow with their agendas and all their b.s., they’re friendly. They say hello and they stop you and get to know you, regardless of what you look like or how you dress. People in LA don’t care if you’re a rap star, a hipster or a movie star. Friends are friends and everyone wants to be friends. SF was a little too snotty for me, and how ironic is that? I’m so glad I live in LA. The first few days I was back, I didn’t leave the west side. I stayed on the beach with Eric and I didn’t wear shoes or makeup and I didn’t do my hair and it was amazing. I was back in Venice with all of the crazy people, the hippies, the tourists, the performers, the music, it was like I was on vacation. I love living in a stinky basin of friendship, everyone there is trying to be someone and do something and that ambition gives off a certain vibe that SF didn’t have to me. As for NYC…a different story entirely…
What I'm listening to (in NYC):
New Moon Soundtrack
Passion Pit
The Big Pink
Metric
Radiohead
Drake
Jay-Z (it should go without saying)
Lil Wayne
Alicia Keys
