Expatria · Television · Trauma · Wendy

los angeles’ memory haunts my reverie

since i don’t always go directly to my friend’s pages to see what’s up and what’s new, i decided to subscribe to everyone’s blog, even if they don’t have a blog i subscribed just in case they are ever to write one. this is fascinating, reading about moments in different people’s lives and adventures all around the world. it makes me feel connected when i am so far away from so many of the people i care about and miss terribly.

in the last week two friends wrote blogs about los angeles. one discussing the continual amazement that l.a. affords her in the form of food, cultural activities, friends, charm. she could not imagine being happier anywhere and after reading her blog, i almost missed l.a. another friend posted a blog last week about the l.a. metro and the violence that plagues america due to fear and ignorance; apathy. that blog made me so grateful to not be living in such a terrifying place. i know the violence has not abated since i left and i can only imagine it is far worse.

for me, los angeles was the place where the worst things in my life happened to me, and i am still healing from them. it is hard for me not to put some blame on the city because after having lived in so many places, i do believe that cities carry a good or bad energy and this will affect one’s experience there. i decided, when i finished testifying against wendy’s murderers, that i would never return to los angeles. and i haven’t. but this city continues to haunt me. i feel like every movie takes place in los angeles. television shows as well. i am constantly revisiting a nighmarescape that will not leave me be. what does this mean? is it that no matter how hard we try to run away from our past, it cannot be fled? are these images forcing me in some way to confront a past that frightens me like nothing else?

my most recent encounter with los angeles is ‘six feet under,’ a show that i was never able to watch in the past because of its topic. now i see it differently, but it is no less painful to see the streets of los angeles and my old haunts. it is extremely bizarre to be thousands of miles away, in mountain town in spain, and still los angeles feels right next door. i think i will never get over this, and maybe that is okay. maybe that is why i need to keep seeing los angeles. maybe if i didn’t, i would forget or it would be easier to relegate the horrors to some locked closet of my heart and never gaze upon them again. maybe these horrors make me me now.

as strange as it is to see los angeles most days of my life, still, be it in dreams on on the television, i think maybe i will try to stop being so negative about it. i will try to make some peace with those city streets and skylines that i recognise before it is even clear where the story takes place. the airport shuttles, metro the bus with it’s orange stripe. the bridge into old town pasadena. santa monica, venice beach. for a place i have wanted to forget, i remember it surprisingly well. i remember adventures with so many people i am connected to here. maybe instead of focusing on the bad stuff, i will instead think of you all and the good times. there are always more good times in life than bad ones, i need to stop focusing on the horrors. only then will i find some peace.


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