With year-round sunshine and a (concerning) lack of precipitation, there’s a lot to love about SoCal living. But summertime in the city – it’s the stuff rom-com dreams are made of. Balmy nights and late am brunches. Beachside fireworks and farmers markets bursting with produce.
It may very well be my last summer in los angeles, and I’m making the most of it:
– Because somehow joining a wine club made sense in my life right now (and they have food trucks and live music on the weekends!).
– Everyone knows watching a movie outdoors with a couple hundred strangers in a cemetery is way cooler than streaming netflix with your cat.
– Fireworks at the Hollywood Bowl
– Hiking. Hiking everywhere.
– This farmers market (with celeb sightings, because, LA)
– A list of the best bottomless mimosa brunches in every neighborhood (because, lush)
– The Nordstrom Anniversary Sale
– Free Yoga
– And ending summer with the LA County Fair in september (and a visit to Kailua!)
Make the most of these long summer days, everyone!
(Photos 1, 2, 3)
I circle back around to residency and flirt with being a doctor the same way you do an ex-boyfriend. When things are good you could care less. But the moment you hit a rough patch of bad blind dates and lonely nights in with Netflix, you wonder what could have been if you had stayed. One day you’ll see him having brunch with someone new, laughing and enjoying each other’s company; a glimpse of what once was. What could have been.
It’s easy to forget the downsides when you want to overlook them. When there are dollar signs and prestige at the end of the rainbow.
Many of my friends will be entering their last year of residency soon, well on their way to being full-fledged doctors. I cannot imagine the things they have learned or the pains it took to learn them, but I am jealous of them just the same. It’s the sister life I could have had, staring me in the face.
Around this time two years ago (two!) I remember googling the words, “quitting residency.” I wanted someone to tell me that it would be ok. I wanted a role model with a success story that I could hold up to my family, friends, and myself.
I never found one.
Not one I identified with, anyway. I was no Michael Crichton or William Carlos Williams. I didn’t have any interest in business school or equity research. I had done that thing so many poets and motivational speakers urge people to do – I had forged my own path. And it was/is terrifying.
So…I’m doing the work. To become my own success story.
It’s still a work in progress. It’s not at all glamorous. And I have a new definition of success. I don’t know where I’ll end up or how many times I’ll get it wrong before I get it right. But I will own every decision I make.
Because we should all be writing our own stories.
I came across this article
some time ago. A young family uproots their comfortable life and moves to South Africa, with a goal to “reset.” I saved the last paragraph after reading it. Since then, it’s been a chunk of text that’s been buried in the notes on my phone. I read it from time to time, sometimes on accident and most times on purpose. Always reminding me of what’s important.
And as I’m discovering, the big adventure is not a place, an experience, or a plane ticket. The real big adventure is the thrill of a life (any life, anywhere) that’s lived honestly, deeply, and with intention. This kind of life doesn’t avoid questions, risk, or vulnerability. This kind of life is the one I want.
(Photo: Sunrise over California)