Something old and something Pocahontas

If there's one type of cuisine that I can appreciate no matter where I am, its sushi. I adore sushi. I have my dad to thank for this, because if not for his constant insisting that I try it during our annual fall trips to Chicago when we would eat at Kamehachi, the city's first sushi bar, I wouldn't be the sushi fiend I am today. I adore sushi to the extent that I've attempted to make it on my own a couple times (you can judge my success based on the specific occasion and how drunk everyone was by the time I served it, but I feel like I'm getting the hang of it). So, naturally, I was thrilled when my roommate Grace told me she was having lady problems and asked if I wanted to get sushi. Duh girl.

She left me with the task of picking out the restaurant, so, thanks to a helpful tip from a nice wedding card salesman I met at the airport, I consulted Yelp. I've used Yelp in Minneapolis before with varying results, but I can tell you that the Los Angeles Yelp is much, much more developed and I found an amazing looking restaurant called Sun Sushi Bar and Japanese Cuisine right away.

I was totally blown away! First, please observe some of the menu items:

 None of the rolls pictured above are over $10.00 menu price.

So I'm sure you're thinking, yeah, that's what they look like in the menu. They're probably not that beautiful when they come to the table. WRONG.

Please excuse the awful quality, I swear they looked amazing. So much for making a point.

I decided on the B.J. Roll (please laugh, Grace and I did), and Grace chose the Sexy Roll (B.J. is above on the left, Sexy is on the right. You can see what their ingredients are on Sun Sushi's website). So when the waitress came to take our order and informed us that regular rolls were 50% off and specialty rolls were 15% off. ALL. THE. TIME, my decision to only order one roll quickly changed and I added a $2.95 eel and avocado roll to my order. Those two rolls + a $1 bowl of Miso soup made Lauren a happy girl, complete with leftover sushi for tomorrow. I'll definitely be back. All I can say is, what a nice end to my first week of classes (yes, I only have class Monday-Wednesday. I can feel your intense jealously all the way over here in Cali).

On a side note: I saw my first hummingbird today! I was too shocked to be quick enough to snap a photo, but here's a supplemental picture:

So FREAKING adorable! Do you think they make good pets? I want one like Pocahontas.

I totally deserve this. Probably a wolf instead of a raccoon though.

So friends! Tomorrow is my first free day in California! I still haven't decided what to do, but hopefully it will be something exciting!

Until tomorrow! <3

Fantasies and realities

Finally, ready to be caught up in my posts.

Has it really been only three days? It seems like so much has happened. I've attended all four of my classes between yesterday and today, and, as expected, I really have nothing to worry about. Thank god, one less thing to trip my wanna-be perfect California experience.

In recent news, I am coming to terms with the whole dorm thing. While I still don't like it, I can't help but think to myself, where else would I live? Its not easy to get a four month lease for a place in Minneapolis, and I'd guess it would be just as hard here, and I wouldn't even know where to start looking. And how would I to get to campus without a car? The public transportation here seems to be awful (more on this when I actually try it out for the first time, which will hopefully be later this week, but most likely next week). These may just be fluffy excuses to make me feel better about this lame situation, but hey. At least I'm not in self-pity mode any more.

These past couple days have also come with some enlightening, albeit slightly disappointing, realizations. I feel like my priorities have shifted a lot. Before coming out here, I wanted to be in the thick of things. I wanted to be walking around down Sunset Strip (I'm really just name-dropping here, I have almost no idea what that is), shopping, seeing people and being seen. I wanted to hang out at the beach for the first time and explore places I've never been. I wanted to meet amazing people and become a part of LA culture, even just for a few months. And I do still want all these things. I want the excitement and the adventure. But I've realized that maybe this isn't what this experience was supposed to be for me. Maybe ending up in some little suburb in the valley was what I really need to get focused on school; to figure out what I want to do with my life when the last eight months of my college career are up and I'm faced with choosing a profession. I'm not completely discarding my dream of living the LA socialite life, I'm just saying maybe this is supposed to be more.

Yesterday, one of my roommates said something that really struck home with me. She told me "Everyone seems to come to LA thinking its going to be how it is in the movies. Its really not. Its ghetto and we don't have anything to do besides hang out. Its boring here."

Now I'm not going to say that I thought this would be just like the movies. But I also don't want to lie to you; I'm guilty of fantasizing about VIP parties and making friends who own convertibles and staying up all night to watch the sunrise on a beach. And I'm not saying any of those things are not going to happen. I just have to remember that LA really is like any other place, and a place is really what you make of it.

Friends, I have a lot of work to do.

It smells different here

After spending a little time in my apartment (I refuse to call it a dorm) and restlessly flipping between Facebook, Stumbling and staring out the window, I decided it was time to do something. There was no use in sitting around and feeling sorry for myself. I was in Los Angeles, for gods sake. These walls were far from what this city has to offer for me.

So I decided, since classes were starting the next day, I should got take a look around campus and find the ONE building that my four classes were to be held in (I guessed it must be the Communication Studies building since all I'm taking this semester are upper-division Com classes). I popped my head into my roommates' room and told them I was going to take a walk to campus to have a look around. To my surprise, their reaction was something close to horror. "You're going to WALK to campus? Its really far away!" Confused, since I remembered checking a map and thinking that it couldn't be much farther than walking from the dorms to the West Bank (sorry non-U of M students, I don't know how else to explain this), I went back to my room to reconsult said map. Unless the whole thing was very skewed, it didn't look too far to me. I went back to their room and shared my findings, asking how long they thought it would take to walk there. "Oh god, probably like 15 minutes." I was shocked. A 15 minute walk was nothing! I chose to walk longer than that from work to my house almost every day this summer when I was in Minneapolis.  (I will elaborate on how dependent people are on their cars here and how that has affected their perceived walking distance abilities when I have a boring day with nothing much to talk about.)

So I set out, walking along a winding trail that took me through CSUN's athletic area: a track, soccer fields, tennis courts. After a bit of wandering, I crossed through a promising looking building and I was on campus.

I nearly cried (remember: still an emotional train wreck). It was absolutely beautiful. Stunning. Breathtaking. All those cliche adjectives. But that's how it was. In my gloominess earlier, I had failed to notice how amazing it was that my entire campus was surrounded by mountains. Not the Colorado mountains of my childhood, mind you, but still; tall, gorgeous mountains. An absolute turn-around from flat, flat Minnesota. And the landscaping! Palm trees, of course, but so many different kinds! Ones taller than I had ever imagined a palm tree to be; short, fat ones that I couldn't hope to wrap my arms all the way around, and everything in between. There were also trees I had never seen before: some sort of weird pine tree that looks a closed umbrella; trees with white bark that don't look anything like birch trees I'm used to; short trees with thick, gnarly trunks. I passed by rows of bamboo growing along the side of a building, rose gardens, cacti, weird shrubbery pruned into perfectly flat rectangles, and colorful flowers that reminded me of all those Francesa Lia Block books I had read in high school. Finally, I found myself standing at the entrance of an orange grove. WHAT. AN ORANGE GROVE. ON MY CAMPUS. I felt my mood lift. This is why I came here. My campus is an absolute gem.

After a short walk through the grove and meeting a disappointingly locked gate at the Botanical Garden a little ways down (Hahaha! Yes! A botanical garden!), I located the building where I would have had class and, definitely sunburned (the sun is different here too!), headed for home. Exhausted, I was asleep by 9:00.

What I can't explain to you is how different it smells here. Its earthy, but not like soil earthy. And its floral, but not overpoweringly so. The best I can do is to tell you that is just smells fresh and lovely. Unfortunately, coming into my third day here, I can't smell it any more. But I can tell you I'll never forget it. 

What have I gotten myself into?

So, I'm here. The first two days flew by, and after my arrival at LAX is when the roller coaster of emotions comes in.

I'm going to be honest: I had high expectations for this semester and the experience that will come with it. But as the shuttle from the air port took me past the city, and the cab ride from the shuttle stop took me even farther away, my heart began to sink. My cab driver happened to be a recent graduate from CSUN, and during the drive through a suburban-looking neighborhood on our way to campus he told me how little there was to do around here. How its hard to get to the city. How there really aren't any parties on campus. I feel like I'm going to puke at this point.

After the disheartening trip to campus, I lugged my 79lb suitcase to check in and finally to my apartment building.  I walked in and eyed the crafty construction paper signs warily. They reminded me of Centennial, the dorm I lived in during my freshman year at the U of M. After stepping out of the elevator on the third floor and seeing another similar sign, my suspicions grew. The reality of my situation set in when I got to the door to my apartment. On it was a tacky sign with a mini box of cereal taped to it and four names written on what appeared to be construction paper noodles being poured out of the box. What the fuck. This is a dorm.

Completely distraught, exhausted from my flight, and starving, all I wanted to do was sit down in that dorm hallway and cry. I had not expected this. This was supposed to be an APARTMENT. You can't tell me I'm signing up for an APARTMENT when I'm actually signing up for a DORM. I'm a nearly 22-year-old senior in college. Is this some kind of joke? Its only 11am in California and I'm about to have a breakdown, which is something that rarely happens to me. Luckily, two of my roommates were already moved in, so I didn't have a chance.

I unpacked slowly, trying to soak everything in, flipping back and forth from feeling confident that everything would turn out and trying to hold back tears (badly). One of my roommates, Grace, helped me get my mind off things with a Subway lunch and a Target run. She confirmed the fears that the cab driver had planted in my head. There really was nothing to do around here, and it was hard to get anywhere else without a car. Que almost unsuccessful tear stoppage.

We got back to the apartment and I decided to distract myself by walking over to campus and having a look around. This is when things start to change.

NEXT UP: Bamboo, cacti, an orange grove and my return to earth.

Prelude: Bad things always happen in threes

Well, where to begin. The last couple days have been an insane ride and a compete emotional roller coaster. But before I get into any of the California excitement, you're going to need some background information:

Months ago, when my transfer from the University of Minnesota-Twin Cities (the U of M) to California State University-Northridge (CSUN) was confirmed, I booked my 9:30am flight to Los Angeles. I knew my transfer student orientation was September 2nd, and classes at the U of M usually start on the Tuesday after Labor Day (September 6th this year), I assumed that CSUN's schedule was the same. This is not so. The day before I left (two days ago. God, it seems like ages ago), I discovered that classes started today. Today, as in the day after I flew in to LA. Great. Cool. I had thought that I would have a whole week to get settled, find a job/internship, and explore a bit before classes started. Nope, not so. All I can say is my summer ended very abruptly.

As the saying goes, bad things always happen in threes. Number two in this series was terrifying. I realized that, in my excitement those months ago, I had mistakenly booked my flight for 9:30 PM. Not AM, PM. Meaning I wouldn't be flying into LAX until close to 11pm Pacific time. Meaning I wouldn't be getting to my campus until probably after midnight. Meaning there was no way someone was going to be working there to let me into my apartment/dorm (I will rant about the important distinction between these two housing complexes later). Holy shit. I can't explain to you how stressful this was for me, but thank god I was able to get on an earlier flight. However, this entailed Brian (my amazing boyfriend of over 2 and a half years) driving me to the lightrail at 4:15AM and then riding it with me so I could make it to the airport by 5 and get on that flight. Thank god I have a wonderful boyfriend who was more than happy to take that mini adventure with me.

BUT. This change in plans led to bad thing number three. After a final drink at Mannings (a dive bar a half block walk away from my house that serves super strong 2-4-1's after 10:00pm every night) with some close friends, Brian and I headed home around midnight to cook some food. At around 1am I decided it was time for bed. At around 1am was also when Brian realized he was missing his keys. We needed those keys to get to the lightrail in three hours. Sam and Matt (awesome roommates) and Tess (awesome fun friend) had gotten home from Mannings by then, so they helped search while I got ready for bed. After about 45 minutes of turning up nothing, Brian came to the realization that he must have locked his keys in his car, even though we couldn't seem them through the windows. Frustrated and exhausted, I 'went to bed', but obviously didn't sleep until a little while later when Brian walked into my room, jingling his keys. Crisis averted, I passed the fuck out for an hour or so.

After my little powernap, Brian woke me up and I put the finishing touches on packing up my room in preparation for my subleaser, and we were off. A small car ride and about a half hour on the lightrail later, I was standing in the airport with a ticket in my hand, a 79lb suitcase headed for my plane, and tears streaming down my face as Brian headed back to the lightrail.

That was yesterday, August 28th. It was a bittersweet goodbye, Minneapolis.

UP NEXT: What the fuck, do you think I'm 12 years old?! And where the fuck is LA?!