Motorcycle Diary #1: LA laughs back at me

Oh, Los Angeles. It is like one of those relationships you can't
quite leave.

For months, it will ignore you, leave you longing and unsatisfied.
You plead and coax, and it just gives you a shrug, curls up into
itself, closed and exclusive.

Then, you move on. You are ready to make the break. You start to
see yourself without this city -- the sunny days, the scent of pine
and dirt in Griffith Park, the vistas of Mulholland Dr. -- surely
somewhere else has all that and more. You start the planning (even
if just planning the planning . . .) and then, suddenly, Los Angeles
is back and wants to play. Parties, dancing, Sunday lunches, friends
who value your company, the perfect graduate program for you --
suddenly you find yourself just enjoying all her beauty with the wind
blowing in your hair as you take it all in from a speeding
motorcycle. Not even traffic can stop you now. Something new,
something refreshing, something to possibly stick around for, just
for a bit longer. Flying through the park, leaning into curve
around which you cannot see, you almost don't care if it is the wrong
decision because in this moment you remembered how to laugh and smile.