When I'm not traveling, I rarely pick up my camera. I find it so difficult to get inspired by the everyday things in life. I'm trying to change that. The other day, I got tired of looking at the same old photos from trips I took weeks ago, so I got my camera out of its bag, haphazardly aimed it, and pressed the shutter button, resulting in the photo below. Why don't I do that more often? I need to start documenting my real life, or else all I'm going to remember about it in ten, twenty years will be the adventures. I guess that's not a bad thing, but I'd also like to be able to recollect the way the light came through my bedroom window in the morning, and how I was able to keep a few cacti alive for more than a month (and counting!!!). 

The other day I went to visit my friend Kalen (of my-spontaneous-trip-up-north fame) at her new digs in Echo Park. That's right, bitches, I got another person to move to California (yes, I'm taking all of the credit)! She arrived only a few days ago, and her new place is, well, a dream. I only snapped a couple of photos of her housemates' dog, Benji, but if I have my way, I'll be taking many more photos there at some point. Dreamy light, a breeze wafting through the open windows, yellow rooms with art on the walls. My kind of place. 

I still have a lot of restlessness in me. It's not going away; if anything, it is sloooowly intensifying. I'm still trying to figure out what that means. I'd like to know that there is some kind of guaranteed outcome from the way I'm living my life right now, but I know that's not possible. One thing I do know is that there is a whole lotta fear in me for no reason, and I'd like to channel it into something productive. Or, you know, get rid of it. Or at the very least tamper it down to a healthy level. Benji the dog was a  timid, nervous little guy (can you see it in his eyes?), and Kalen and I kept trying to soothe him, scratching behind his ears and murmuring, "It's okay, you're safe, you have people who love you, no one is going to hurt you". I think I need to start saying the same thing to myself more often. 

After she showed me around her new place, Kalen and I took a walk around Echo Park Lake, which is not too far away from where she lives. It was nice to see fresh water in the middle of the city. The vegetation around here is still pretty green from last week's rain, but unless we get more precipitation, it's not going to stick. Echo Park Lake reminded me a bit of Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis, but kind of a poor man's version of it. Toby and I lived only a few blocks away from Calhoun, and in the summer it was full of activity; people kayaking and scooting around in paddle boats, runners and bikers and rollerbladers and dogs and kids and life at its finest. This lake was much quieter (and much smaller), but it did have a boat house with a cute little cafe where you could rent out paddle boats. There was a lone couple out on a boat as we walked around the lake, which I thought was cute. 

When I'm feeling overwhelmed, I have to remind myself that it's good to write, to eject thoughts out of my brain and into some kind of tangible form that I can look over later if I want to. I recently started journaling again. I'm not being super consistent about it, but even knowing that it's there as an option has helped me to start shaping my melee of thoughts into concrete sentences before I ever put pen to paper. It's funny how a little change in one area of life can create a snowball effect of changes in other areas. Speaking of which - I'm currently reading The Power of Habit, by Charles Duhigg (a recommendation and gift from my amazing father, who knows me all too well), and it has completely shifted how I view my daily actions. I'd highly recommend it to anyone stuck in a rut. 

Today smelled like summer. I guess it never really stops smelling like summer around here, but I got a happy little feeling in my belly as I drove around running errands for one of my production assistant jobs. Part of it is probably that the days are getting longer - I left work at six o'clock this evening, and the sky was still light! Take that, winter. =]