About four months ago, I made one of the boldest decisions I’ve ever made: To pack up everything, leave my part-time job and family home, and move to L.A. with a friend from school to start my professional career. It had been almost a year since I’d returned from London, high off of life and eager to take on the world… and I had accomplished absolutely nothing in that time. I had a breakdown of the childlike variety, crying hysterically to my parent’s one sleepless night; only my bad dream was real life, and I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to get back to the city: back to a metropolis of entertainment and media that would hopefully lead to a career I could build a new life around. And so Laura and I planned and planned until July arrived, and then we set off in her gold Subaru for The City of Angels. Five days, three hotels, ten states and many hours of Pandora later, we had arrived.
If I thought packing everything I own and coordinating household supplies was hard, it’s nothing compared to where I am right now: Jobless, carless and homeless. We’re staying with some family friends right now, but I’m getting that burning itch again: I need to get out on my own and start this life for real. It’s proving just as difficult as I thought, but losing hope isn’t an option.
Our first stop when we got to the city was an Apple Store, and it was there that I had my first semi-celebrity sighting. One of the stars of “The L.A. Complex” was there, and the premise of the show is a group of young people who come to Hollywood to make it big in entertainment. I chuckled when I saw him- it felt like an omen of sorts, like maybe someone was watching over me, saying, “Hey, it’s going to be tough, you’re going to be dirt poor and struggle every day, but you’ll be okay. You’re here to make your dreams come true.” And that’s what I plan to do.