Staycation

When I first started at my current job, there was one thing that I was particularly excited about: VACATION DAYS. The idea that once I worked long enough the company would PAY me to take a day off and travel to exotic locations was the cherry on top.

Of course, I didn't consider the fact that being paid for vacation days didn't necessarily mean I could afford to travel to these exotic locales. So instead my vacation days have sat unused - or even worse, used for doctors appointments.

This past weekend I finally took the plunge and took an elaborate, exciting and thrilling 4-day vacation - to Los Angeles. That's right - I took a vacation at home. Before you roll your eyes at the term "staycation" however, let me explain. I turned my vacation response on. My cell phone off. My computer stayed at my desk. Heck - I didn't even get on Facebook!

The Best flew down from Nor Cal, The Fashionista drove up from Orange County and we had a full fledged girls weekend. This WAS the kind of weekend we had dreamed about in college. We drank Bitch Wine and ate Tarts until 2 am, laid out on the beach all day, and ate at this hole-in-the-wall Hollywood spot called Miceli's where our waiter was an actor who sang "Falling in Love with You" to us gals.

On Saturday we spent bucket loads of money as we shopped literally until we dropped, and then attempted to make fruity girly drinks from sorbet and rum picked up spontaneously from Trader Joes. Sunday was a hike through Griffith Park’s “Old Zoo” and a fireworks show in the park, before we all crashed on Monday morning.

It was the perfect weekend, something that I badly needed to rejuvenate my soul and brighten my outlook on life. I think my roommate, The Actress, said it best when she mentioned that she'd never heard me laugh like that in the year we've been living together!

There is nothing that can replace good, quality time with girlfriends who intimately love and know you. There's no embarrassment, no explaining needed - just girls who know you and accept you for all your quirky qualities.

It’s been a year since I’ve moved to LA, and slowly I’ve found my way around this city and made quite a few friends in the process. But no matter how exciting the city, after a while the hum drum of life gets you down and you need something special to pick you up.

That’s where I learned the benefit of having your best friends live miles apart. There is no room to take friendships for granted, there’s no assuming that they’ll always be around for drinks or a movie. They don’t become a part of the hum drum of life.

Instead, they’re the special, amazing, miraculous thing that picks you up and brightens your outlook on life again. That turns your old hum drum of a city into an exciting staycation worth more than any Caribbean cruise. Suddenly, the distance doesn’t seem half that bad.

Sacrifices for Happiness

Since I can't very well allow Twixter One to post a blog and not have one to follow, here I am. Many, many things have changed since my last entry.

Here's the mini run down:
-Husband and I may or may not be moving to Florida. We may be looking into California. (Do not die of a heart attack Twixter One. You need to be on gchat nao so I can update you.)
-I quit the very well paying job I hate to take 2 lesser paid jobs that make me much happier
- I started filling out all the paperwork to go back to school this next year and graduate. I seriously cannot wait.
-Husband finished his second novel of his life and I couldn't be prouder.

Now, some explanation. I'll start with just explaining this last weekend since it pretty much changed our lives.

This last weekend, one of our best friend's from college (whom we shall call Gavin) graduated. When he invited us to his graduation party, we knew that no matter what happened, we would be there.

But first, I have been applying like a mad women (even while at work) to other places so I could quit my call center job. I knew I needed to have 2 jobs to cover what I was making there but needed to get out of that place so bad it was making me depressed. So I applied like crazy and Thursday night I got a call. I had interviewed at Old Navy and they wanted to hire me. I had the potential of 40 hours as long as I was available. And boy was I available. During the last week I had also been in talks with a manager from Starbucks (thanks to the Husband's rocking connections, I got to skip the whole interview process and just talk straight to a manager who needed a barista). She had sounded pretty sure she was going to hire me. So as soon as Old Navy offered me the job, I got in my car, drove to my call center and quit on the spot.

This was a very rash move for me. I've never just up and quit a job in my life. Ironically they wouldn't have let me put in notice anyway. They really didn't care. Proving even more how much I hated that job. So I snuck out like a thief in the night with all the items from my desk and got ready to go to California. My shoulders felt like a giant weight was lifted off them and I was practically dancing as I shopped for random stuff we'd need for the trip.

On the way down, I was confessing to husband that I was kind of depressed to be going to our old school and town because to me, the drive felt like I was going home, not going to visit. To be honest, I've felt ever since we moved that California was my home. As excited as I was for adventure and moving to Florida, I was scared it would be just like Las Vegas without family. Just Husband and I in an apartment with only 1 friend an hour away. I had suppressed that thought for a long time.

But California. Husband and I arrived looking snazzy and dressed up for graduation. It was really fun to see all the people we had missed. All the while I was slightly shriveling inside.

This was supposed to be me. I was supposed to be graduating right now.

I only have 6 classes left. But due to the move and Husband and I's financial situation and the lack of married housing on campus, we were forced to move straight to Nevada without a glance back. I sat there at graduation, proud of all my friends who were wearing their gowns and walking up the stage but still reminded I should be done. And wanted to be done. Now.

After graduation we had an amazing day. Gavin's graduation party was exactly what I want mine to be. A small group of family and closest friends celebrating a great milestone with beer and pizza. It was perfect. Afterwards, we went to the beach and just played in the sand. Gavin and his cousin and his brother from Maine actually went swimming like crazy people. But I guess if we swim in the ocean in Maine, Newport Beach isn't so bad. Afterward we ate dinner, hung out at the bathwater warm pool.

Husband and I had a dawning realization.

We miss people.

We're extremely social and as of right now, we sit in our apartment and watch TV. Every once in a while we have people to hang out with. But not like in California. We hung out with Gavin nearly every single day for 2 years. Not to mention one of my best friends in the world and maid of honor (whom we shall call Riley) was there everyday too. I just need that back again.

So needless to say, Husband and I are looking into all our options, which include moving back to California this upcoming fall or spring. We've got a lot to figure out, but I can't wait to decide.

Miss you all.

Twixter Two

Grown Up at 22

It was late on Friday afternoon and I’m maneuvering my tiny blue Nissan Sentra down the 5. The sun is streaming in from my window, the rays bouncing off of the waves that are peacefully lapping on the shore just off the side of the freeway. I kick off my Steve Maddens and grip the rubber pedals with my bare toes. My iPhone is streaming music both too old but too young to be cool, since I haven’t updated my music library since college. As I continue to drive up the coast I get a wave of memories - I pass the beach we went skinny dipping at after finals my sophomore year, and the place we made Twixter Two dance with her boa during her bachelorette party.

It’s a beautiful spring day in Southern California, and as I push my sunglasses back into my hair and take a sip of lemonade it hits me - This is my twenties. I am living in a city than many people can only dream of visiting and I have the freedom to appreciate it’s finer points. In that moment, all the stress of growing up melted away and I realized that I’ve grown up. It may not be the life that my parents, my friends, my co-workers or my roommates dream of when they think of living in LA at 22. But for the past 22 years I’ve dreamed of what my life would be like when I was a “grown up” and on days like today, I feel like I’m living that dream.

Family Matters

I am the first child of four. Besides me there is my almost 20-year-old brother, my almost (ohdeargodohno) 16-year-old sister, and the baby of the bunch (at 6) living at home with my parents in Las Vegas.

Of those four, I am clearly the first to move away from home - but at the moment I am also the only one to be out of state as well. My brother was oh-so-lucky that the state university had a kick-ass program for his major and used his Nevada funded scholarship money with pride - and remained in town.

At the moment, that makes me the odd one of the bunch, living 4-hours away from my entire family. (and I mean ENTIRE as all my grandparents, aunts, and uncles live a driving distance away from each other in LV).

To some degree, I quite like it - it gave me the chance to be truly independent in a sink or swim kind of mentality. I get to keep my own schedule, and maintain my own apartment without the fear of an unexpected parental drop by.

But there are some weeks, like this week, where 4-hours might as well be 20.

My brother and sister and I haven’t always gotten along. We all went through that period as we made our way through Jr. High and High School where each of us thought the others were miserable human beings. But somehow over the last year things have changed.

Suddenly I’m getting phone calls from both The Golfer (brother) and The Teenager (sister) begging me “Sissy help me!” from across the state lines.

Sometimes it’s the “Mum is driving me nutts - and you’re the only one that understands!!!” call - to which I patiently listen and remember to later apologize to my mother for when I went through those years.

At other times it’s heartbreak, a desperate plea of “I think I’m going to lose them...” where my heart just breaks and all I want to do is hold them, however so awkwardly. (as both The Golfer and The Teenager tower over my 5’ 2“ frame.)

After so many years of screaming “I HATE YOU” at the top of my lungs to a slammed door, why now when I’m 300 miles away do I actually like my family?

There are some days I want nothing more than to grab coffee with The Golfer on a break between work, or take The Teenager out shopping. My Dad has promised me first ride on the lake tube this summer, and yet I don’t even know when that will be. And all of that’s not even touching on how often I desperately need a Mum date - just her and I and hours of conversation.

I think for me, this is the hardest strand of Twixterdom to break. I am ready to pay my own bills, to work a full time job, to clean my own apartment and manage my own schedule. But I was never the kid who wanted to pick up and move away from Mom & Dad, only to call on Christmas and birthdays. My family is THE most important thing in my life , and yet I have to watch them from afar as my job and life demand that I live in LA.

So what do you think? Does anyone have any advice on how to be a big sister from 300 miles away? Or should I just keep praying that the Maglev will one day become a reality?

The Need to Move

[Editors Note: This blog was written and slated to run today, long before Twixter Two made her exciting announcement below. Slightly ironic, don’t you think?]

6-months ago, all my blog posts were raving about my new apartment that was prepped and ready for me to move into. I was so excited.

Now that we’re six months in to a year-long lease, the excitement has worn off. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fabulous apartment. We got a stellar deal (paying nearly $800 less than our neighbors in fact) but I’m beginning to realize it’s a stellar deal on an apartment that may be too much for me to handle. This apartment would have been MY DREAM when I was in college – as a two story town house each person has their own little hole to curl up into when they need to study, with the downstairs completely open for hanging out and partying. But I’ve soon come to realize that my post college life doesn’t entail as many midnight marathons of Bones as college did. Furthermore, my roommate is rarely ever home – leaving a huge kitchen, dining room and living room downstairs open as I wander from room to room wondering why its so quiet. Even when she is there, she’s usually holed up in her own room making barely any noise. (Unless of course it’s 4 am and she bursts into my room to tell me about the earthquake that just happened - the earthquake that consequently didn’t wake me up. *yawn*)

So I made the mistake of surfing through Craigslist postings, only to find apartment after apartment that I’m falling in love with – for almost $200 cheaper a month than what I’m paying now. It’s unhealthy for me to continue to look when I’m so far off from my lease ending, but I can’t help it. I want a new place, new roommate, new outlook – already.

I’m used to college living. The longest I’ve ever stayed in one place was 9-months, and most of the time roommates lasted a maximum of 4-months before we annoyed the heck out of each other and someone moved out. It’s normal for the itch to start hitting me now, at the 6-month mark it was already time to buddy up for next years roommate assignments.

But why am I looking if I’m not necessarily “unhappy?” The only real fault to my apartment is the fact that I’m 6-months older and decades wiser and know that I could seriously cut my costs and find something much more manageable. Otherwise my apartment is cute, it’s clean and comfy, and my roommate pays her rent each month. Of course, I’d love to find a roommate whose schedule lines up more with mine (I’m dying for need of some serious college style Gilmore Girls marathons stat) and I’m realizing the value and savings of living in a tight but comfy place.

When I first started this blog, I prided myself on shaking at least one tenet of Twixerdom and settling into my own apartment, lease and all - and had plans to stay.

Hmm, well - Okay, maybe I’m not so rid of the Twixter after all

Officially Californian

I have a confession to make.

Although I’ve been living in LA for the last 11 months, I’ve been sneaking around The Valley still driving on my Nevada plates and wielding my Nevada drivers license.

The state of California gives you exactly 10 days from the point of entry into California to switch your registration and residency. It’s a very clear cut law. However, when you’ve been living in the state for the last 4-years under the guise of out of state college student, pin pointing your date of entry gets a little tricky.

At least thats what I argued as I shlepped my stuff up to LA from Orange County and was far too overwhelmed to get everything switched over. Just let me get settled, find an official residence (rather than couch crashing) and then I would make it “Official.”

Well, it didn’t take too long for me to realize that registering my new-used car in California was going to cost me exceedingly more than to register in Nevada. Damn state taxes. So I made the road trip (twice) out to NV, and once again became an official Nevada resident. from California.

This back and forth has continued on and off for the last couple of months, constantly finding another excuse for why now wasn’t the time to switch. Of the 16 cars in my apartment’s underground garage, over half of them have out of state plates - I was in good company.

Well, with taxes looming towards me I realized it was finally time to make it official when daunted with the task of figuring out which residency to declare on the forms. So off I went: 20 minutes later (AAA for car registration) and 2 hours later (DMV for my drivers license) I am proud to announce - I am Officially a California resident.

Being a California resident comes with it’s down sides. My car is so much more difficult to find now in the parking lot when my Nevada plates don’t stick out like a sore thumb. and, After having a decent looking drivers license picture in Nevada, my California license just screams bad hair day. and of course, there’s those three hated little words: State Income Tax.

But all in all, it’s refreshing to finally have the final check mark placed in my “Moving to California” to do list. I no longer have to glance nervously as a cop car pulls behind me as I pull out of my complex (“no really officer, I’m just here as a college student / visiting my sister / where am I again?”) Bartenders no longer look at me strangely as they inspect my ID with vigor, because a Nevada ID means I must be under age.

So like it or not, Mum & Dad, looks like I’m in California to stay - at least for a little while. I think I’ll like it here. Although, I will say, it is disappointing that I can no longer get away with swerving down streets like an idiot, only to pass it off as “Whatever, they probably just think I’m a tourist.”

I'm baaack

Sorry for the break everyone, but I’m back and up and running – though a little worse for the wear.

The last week and a half I’ve been in Nashville, TN on a business trip – the very first of it’s kind. I actually had a whole stack of entries prepped and ready to fill in the time that I wouldn’t be writing, and then I was hit with a massive cold. February was the month of sickness as I’ve been in and out of bed with one malady after another. However, the worst of it hit the day before I left for my trip, which left me barely hanging on for life as I teetered around the convention center in heels with tissues and cough drops poking out of every crevice that could hold them.

Luckily I’m back in sunny California, though the cough and nasty fever blisters still manage to hold on. Though, not enough to keep me from writing like I’m supposed to – I promise.

So, I planned on returning from my business trip with a kick ass blog all about business trips. But I’m coming up dry.

The truth is, for the large part, it was boring. Almost too boring to blog about.

However, I did learn one very important thing on this trip:

I HATE business trips. I spent 5-days straight stuck inside a convention hall, and I only ever breathed fresh air once. Business hours weren’t 9-5, but whenever and wherever people could find us. And they found us - back to back meetings from dawn to dusk.

The Boss goes on a business trip once if not twice a week – he’s always traveling and for a while I envied him as he was boarding planes and I was stuck behind my metal desk in LA. But by the time I returned from my trip I was so worn out, so exhausted, and SO tired of dealing with clients I didn’t want to work for another two weeks. To pick up and repeat with another trip week after week would be a terror.

I wish I had more exciting tales to tell you from the road but the trip was an endless succession of meetings until I finally collapsed on my cousin’s couch in Nolensville ready for a couple of days of R&R with my family. That was the main perk of my Southern business trip – a chance to catch up with family that I haven’t seen in a couple of years. 4 days of sleeping in, watching movies, and lounging around my aunts beautiful home in Franklin, and nights of good food and company with the family.

While the tail end of the trip did give me a nice dose of family, I have to say, it’s nice to be back home in LA.

Playing the Tourist

This weekend The Boy and I headed up to Mt. Baldy to spend a much needed afternoon playing in the snow. Since I’m a horrible skier we just embraced our 5-year-old tendencies - we made snow men and went sledding. Just two weekends before, The Boy and I were in Santa Monica all of Saturday - feeling the sea breeze on our faces and digging our toes into the sand.

You have to love Southern California. You can spend one weekend sprawled on the beach in T-Shirts and 70 degree weather, and the next weekend bundled up in gloves and beanies throwing snow balls.

There are endless possibilities to do and see in Los Angeles, and somehow I missed the mark. I went to school just an hour South of here, yet I never really ventured into the city. Every so often I’d randomly find myself venturing down a street in LA with little clue where I was at, but I was so lost I’d never try to return to it.

When I moved up here permanently, I told myself I was going to take advantage of my newfound freedom. No more homework and no more papers, my “off” time would become my time, and I planned to take advantage of it. Little did I know that when I finally was “off” I’d be too exhausted to think about going out and exploring the city. Weekends were strictly for laundry and grocery shopping.

When January rolled around I realized I’d spent 6-months living in a city that I hardly knew anything about. So one of three resolutions were birthed: I was going to become a tourist.

The plan is to do one thing every week as a tourist. I live a 10-minute drive away from the Hollywood sign, but until January 9th I had never actually taken the classic tourist shot in front of it. Now I have.

Of course, I have an advantage to acting like a tourist - I’m a local. Any guide book will tell you that you can see the Hollywood sign from the Griffith Observatory. But only locals know that if you drive up Lake Hollywood you’re eventually standing right under it. (Noted: You do have to ignore the sign at Lake Hollywood & Barham - “No Access to Hollywood Sign.” - Ha! Whatever).

I think I’m grateful that I waited ‘til I felt more like a local to be a tourist - as long as I can get over being ridiculed by other locals for my cheesy facebook pics. And once the tourist stuff starts to get old (I’m already over visiting Hollywood Blvd - right now it’s just annoying that it’s the Fresh n Easy closest to me) I have another trick up my sleeve.

When I lived in London I fell in love with The City Walk cards, and for my last birthday The Boy got me City Walk: Los Angeles . There’s 50 cards that take you through walks all across the city - stopping you at sometimes unnoticeable but always interesting landmarks. It’s a nice transition from tourist to local - even for those of us that are just a little bit of both.

I Miss My Friends

I had the idyllic college experience.

My life felt like it belonged in one of the college glossies: late night coffee runs with my roommates, study abroad’s to foreign destinations, hours holed up in the film production center - it was a full 4 years of fun and friends who soon became my family.

My friends were my life. I ate breakfast, lunch and dinner with them; we ran errands and bought groceries together. We laughed and made spontaneous runs to Diddy Rieses, and screamed and cried when finals season came around. They became family, even in a way that my family couldn’t (largely because I CHOSE to love this side.) While the classes I took were enriching and the college life exciting, what really made my college experience were the people that became my lifelong friends.

Then I graduated from college.

I moved an hour away, but assumed the F.R.I.E.N.D.S episode would continue. There would be drinks after work, and crashing at each others houses. There’d be parties and road trips - it’d be like college except with more alcohol and less homework.

However, there are no glossies for real life. No one gives you a brochure when you graduate from college, advertising all the wonderful experiences ahead of you. As a TV junkie, I expected to walk right into a F.R.I.E.N.D.S episode , but I hate to tell you - Hollywood lied.

Most nights I come home, make some kind of a mish-mash of dinner alone and watch TV before I go to bed. I’ll call my friends to try and make plans, but they always fall through. Someone had to work late, or needs the weekend to sleep. or it’s raining and the drive is just too far.

On a rare night I’ll have a 3-hour date with The Best - on the phone, eating our dinners 300 miles apart. The Best moved to Northern California at the end of summer, yet I feel like I’ve seen her more often than anyone who stayed down South.

We’ve talked a lot about the best friend problem - both of us displaced from the comfortable home of our college town. We’re grasping tightly to the best friends of our college years, repeating the mantra that we are friends for life. But how do those friendships continue when you’re 5 1/2 hours apart?

It’s time to start making new friends in my new post-college life. I’m lucky to have awesome co-workers that have frequented happy hour with me on more than one occasion. And I’ve joined in with them and their friends as well. But, being me, I’m shy and always worried that I’ll seem like the tag-along.

So what do you think?

What’s the best way to make new friends in a new town? Do F.R.I.E.N.D.S. episode friendships really exist? Is it silly to believe college-type friendships (and midnight coffee runs) can continue into adult life?

My Life is Upside Down

Wow, so it's been quite some time since I updated. After the wedding, my whole life just turned upside down.

I was accepted into a film program last fall that I was insanely exicted about. Problem was, after visiting with financial aid and talking with the husband, we realized that we just didn't have enough money to survive in the film program. (We're not allowed to work while we attend the program). So we decided to withdrawal and move back to Las Vegas. I can be honest: this idea literally depressed me. I hated my job even more and despised waking up in the morning knowing that in a few weeks I would be back in the place I swore I would NEVER return to. But then my life was turned upside down again.

We got a call from the film program; they were offering us a scholarship to come out to LA. Of course inside I was ecstatic, but very, very wary. What if it didn't work out? What if when we got out here, we ran out of money? Was this the mistake we had saved ourselves from making, only to make it again? Aside from all of those questions, we went back to financial aid and a sort of miracle happened. We ended up with enough money to make it and moved out to LA two days later. We are definitely still scraping by and it's not the magical touristy experience we were looking for, but we are here!!

I AM IN LA. The place I have been dreaming about being in for so long. It's completely overwhelming. During the whole first week of orientation I would get home and fall asleep immediately only to wake up early the next morning for another all day long rules lecture. While I was so happy, I was SO bored. It was such a long week.

Now that it's done, the exciting part starts to happen. I'm filming a short film this weekend and have hopefully set up an interview with a production company on a famous studio lot. (This anonymity is fun).

So my life is totally upside down from where I thought I would be 2 weeks ago. Yet here I am. This year should be pretty interesting.

New

This past weekend I finally moved into my new apartment, and that's when it really hit me.

I'm moving to LA.

I've told most of my friends and family back home that I'm "staying" in CA where I "went to school." But really, I'm not. My friends are all within a "comfortable" LA driving distance (read: under 2 hours) but there's no one around to grab dinner with after work, or go out for drinks with on the weekend. I'm completely on my own out here.

I've always been the independent kind of girl who loved the thrill and adventure of picking up and moving somewhere new - I moved to a college a state away where I knew NO ONE for a reason. But I'm starting to realize the older I get that I need the stability of my friends and family close by. I'd love to go out and explore my new city, but only with the comfort of coming home to my best friend or seeing my boyfriend each night for dinner.

This is going to be the kind of growing experience I'll lecture my kid's about when I get older.

Of course, I'm intent on slowly manipulating my friends to get closer and closer. Twixter Two will be moving up North in just a few short weeks and we'll live closer than we have since high school. The next challenge will be to get the boyfriend to move up North after he graduates in December, and then I'll move on to my next victim. ;)

It's time I start making a new life of my own, but it's hard to leave the close-knit college life I spent four years deeply committed to. Sometimes it seems that's all that life is - a constant cycle of making new friends, and leaving the old. I'm ready for the time where friends are friends - regardless of what stage of life we're in.

And as cheesy as it is, an old song from my girl scout days starts ringing through my mind:
"Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other's gold."

A Bicycle Built for Me

My co-worker and I have been semi-seriously contemplating riding our bikes to work, being that I'm moving a quarter mile away from her and a "good work out distance" from the office. I've never been much of a bike girl and managed to survive all 4-years of college without ever owning one, but after the horrific 2-month's I've had with my car, it's starting to look promising.

It all started my FIRST WEEK on the job. I was still commuting the hour North into Burbank while living in Orange County, which meant plenty of time sitting on the 5. Lots of sitting. Though, apparently, I didn't do enough sitting because one second I was glancing at my clock and the next I had rear ended a huge SUV.

The SUV walked away with a minor scratch. My car was totaled. Ever want to see a grown man cry? Show my dad the pictures of my accident - he mourned over the loss of the first car he ever bought his baby girl.

So, that left me without a car on my first week of my new job, with an hour commute. The week before I was moving to Burbank. The week before graduation. Days before my extended family was coming in to town. Needless to say I was a bigger wreck than my car.

Eventually I found my perfect car - my pretty blue Nissan Sentra. But getting the car was an even bigger nightmare than the accident. To get it titled, smogged, and registered alone took over 2-months and 4 trips to the DMV! On top of the fact, that after buying it used from a private seller I had mountains of maintenace work to do.

All throughout college anytime I had car problems I raced home to my Daddy. He used to be a mechanic, so I always new he'd take care of whatever my car needed. Which of course included dealing with the incredible lines and ridiculous phone system at the DMV - I never had to worry about anything. But with an accident happening so close to my graduation Dad thought it was finally time for me to grow up - and left me to wade the waters of car ownership on my own. Sure, I learned a lot, but honestly dad - I'm exhausted. Who thought owning a car would be this much work!

Yesterday was the final straw when the DMV threatened to take away my license for being a Nevada licensed driver driving in the state of California. (Yea - I'm serious. Sound ridiculous to you to?) All the calm and responsible arguing I did wouldn't help, nor would emotional outrage, and I finally gave up and called my dad, who promptly called and chewed the DMV out.

If this is how much work being a car owner is, I give up. Give me something with 2 wheels, some ribbons and a basket - I don't want to grow up THAT badly.

A Place to Call Home

The last two month's I've been sleeping on a cot on my boss's floor while I've tried to find an apartment. (It's not as weird as it sounds, his wife is my old professor, so THAT'S why I'm staying there) (not that he doesn't like having a live-in-assistant).

Of course finding a good, cheap apartment in LA is like finding a needle in a haystack. or worse, it's like finding a ONE needle in 5 DOZEN haystacks.

LA isn't like most places - where you strictly have the city and suburbia. In LA there's downtown, the city, the other city, suburbia, suburbia's suburbia - well, you get the picture.

Luckily, I at least had it narrowed down to the Valley so I could stay near work, but I never realized how big of an undertaking apartment shopping is.

I lived the first two years of college in the campus dorms. After a brief stint abroad which involved more hostels than my actual flat, I moved into a campus apartment. More space, more freedom but definitely with all the perks of a college dorm - low rent, furniture provided, and easy financial aid funded payments.

When I found out that I'd be working in Burbank I didn't think it would be THAT hard to find an apartment. But before I found an apartment I had to find a roommate. Then I had to decide exactly WHERE to live. (Burbank? Toluca Lake? Valley Village? Studio City? No Ho?) Help! Even when I got that hammered down it still meant spending lunch hour after lunch hour touring a bunch of crappy places that wanted my soul and then a little more to cover rent. It was a humbling experience.

Eventually my roommate and I found a comfy 2 bedroom, 2 1/2 bath townhome - and it comes with a fridge!!! We put down our deposits this week and will get to move in by the end of the month!

Finally, I thought all the hard stuff was over with, delighted to finally have my own place. We're lucky to have an Ikea close by, which I assumed would take care of all my furniture needs.

Well, you quickly learn how poor you are when Ikea is too expensive for your tastes. So, I've been spending the past two days at work scouring craigslist for cheap furniture finds, praying I can find a mattress that doesn't stink or stain or basically one that doesn't scare me.

I can't wait for the day when I can actually afford to buy my own furniture, because at this point I am so exhausted that all I want is to walk into a furniture store and say - This one. Yep. Ship it to me.

Greetings & Introductions, by Twixter Two

Hello Everyone,

I'm Twixter Two.

Now what a 'twixter' is should be addressed somewhere in the beginning of this blog.

My personal definition: one who realizes all too quickly that the responsibilities and harsh reality of growing up sure makes growing up not as awesome as previously thought. (Refer to Time Magazine if you want a more official definition).

As a college freshman, you don't think about the greatness of living off credit between jobs, or working crappy retail because you need seasonal money on top of another disappointing part time job, because that "dream career" isn't quite here yet. No. You think about having your own place, settling down, and magically landing that dream lifestyle that everyone told you was possible if you try hard enough.

I try pretty hard, and I'll tell you I'm still not even close yet.

I am currently in my 5th year of college as a film major. My immediate response is to defensively explain why I'll be taking an extra year to complete college. I usually say, "I changed majors the middle of my sophomore year, so I have some catching up to do. Yes, I did change my major, but that doesn't change the fact I took only 12 units for the past five semesters. I don't regret it; the issues in my life (possibly addressed in a later blog) would have made passing all my classes nearly impossible. But, now I am a super senior. At least I finally found the major I think I love and still maintain a 3.5 GPA.

A few facts about my life:

I'm getting married on July 11 to the most amazing guy I know. We've been dating for about four years now and I am so excited. A lot of my blog will be about how married life affects my school work and career. According to my fellow Twixter Generation, I'm getting married pretty young. (I'm 21.)

My fiance and I were accepted into a film program in L.A. where you participate in a TV/Film internship in Hollywood. I'll be living in good 'ol Los Angeles only a few minutes (in L.A. time) from Twixter One. I don't even have the words to explain how excited I am to be immersed in the world of Hollywood all next semester.

I am currently working on a documentary that I'm hoping will change my life. (At least a little). I am still debating on if I want to talk specifics here since Twixter One and I are still discussing how anonymous we want to keep this blog. I guess it all depends on what we actually blog about.

Well, that's the run down on me, Twixter Two. Hope you enjoy.

Hi, I'm Twixter One

When I was little, all I ever wanted to be was a grown up. I was always described as "mature for my age" and thought talking to the adults was much more fun than playing tag with the kids.

Then one day I woke up with a degree being mailed to my parents house, with no job, no money, and no place to live. I spent the next six-months bumming in my on-campus apartment and living off of my credit card.

I took me five-months to become gainfully employed and another month to find a place that would let me wear my rainbows and converses to work every day if I liked. The fact of the matter is that condition was even more important than health insurance.

So I made the jump and moved an hour North to Burbank, CA where I am currently spending my days working as an executive assistant and my nights sleeping on a cot on an old professors floor. I eat breakfast and lunch out of the company refrigerator and enjoy Wendy's 99 cent menu for dinner.

Hello, may name is Twixter One, and yes, I'm a part of Generation Y.

Hold on, you may pause - what exactly IS a Twixter?

A twixter is a twenty something who basically refuses to grow up. They jump continuously from job to job, they live at their parents house, and never understand the definition of 'cash' because money always comes on plastic.

I never thought I'd become a twixter. Growing up seemed glamorous, exciting. I always dreamed of getting that perfect job straight out of college and moving into that perfect urban apartment. I wanted everything, including the white pickett fence.

Well, I sold the white pickett fence for gas money.

But at least now I'm on my way. I still have more plastic than paper, and I'm beginning to look longingly and gratefully at those squeaky college bunk beds. But I've got a new car (story for a later post), a new city, and a new job.

And as of today, a new blog. Hope you enjoy - I'm sure it'll be a road trip to remember (but not necessarily one to re-try!)