An Epiphony List.

"It doesn't make a bit of difference if you start what you can't finish. Every story needs an ending, after all."
- Motion City Soundtrack, "Can't Finish What You Started"

Working graveyard shifts as a security officer isn't as bad of a gig as it might sound. Sure, there may not be much to secure overnight, necessarily, but simply being awake and knowing that almost everyone else in the city is sleeping puts the mind into an odd place. It was at 6:30-ish AM at the tail end of a recent shift--while watching the sunrise behind the Hollywood Hills--when I had an epiphony. I took out my Post-It Notepad and my black ink pen and started scribbling frantically on page after page of tiny orange paper. For one half of an hour--until my shift had officially ended--I poured over those little scraps like it was my job. (I should probably take this opportunity to point out that I wasn't guarding anything of much importance, just the backstage area of an empty concert arena. Nothing that would deserve my full attention.)

By the end of my scribbling session, I had produced several barely articulated ideas. One of which was a list of all the things I wanted to accomplish in the 9 months I would be here on the West Coast. And because I know you will all riot in the streets if I don't post it, here is that list:

1. Climb a small mountain.
2. Complete a screenplay.
3. Audition for at least 3 real acting roles. (Not as an extra!)
4. Learn to ride a bike.
5. Go to a taping of Jay Leno.
6. Play guitar in a subway station.
7. Learn to swim.
8. Visit the LA or San Diego Zoo. (Or Both.)
9. Play beach volleyball with a group of people.
10. Get at least 1 piece of writing published.
11. Fully watch the sun rise/set.
12. Drink a frozen alcoholic beverage on a beach.
13. Purchase an item of California memorabilia.
14. Have a conversation with a famous person.
15. Start a blog.
16. Make a collection of California photos.
17. Get a tattoo.
18. Gain 15 pounds.
19. Take the girlfriend on a romantic beach picnic.
20. Take a long walk on the beach.

There. Not such outlandish goals, are they? Now, one of the things on this checklist can already be checked off. (Can you guess which one? Hint: it's the one with the word "blog" in it.) And a couple of these can easily be combined and completed in one single swoop. For instance, I could pack a picnic basket with some margaritas (in thermoses, of course), take it to the beach, and sip them while watching the sun go down. And if that lovely lime drink hasn’t hit me too hard, we could follow it up with a nice, romantic walk along the shore. See? I'm multi-tasking already.

But in all honesty, I hope I'm able to slice my way through the entirety of the twenty items. It would provide me with a great sense of accomplishment and complete my voyage into this vast unknown that they call Southern California.
Wish me luck.

This Entry In Song:
Jack's Mannequin - "Resolution"

Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake

A Few Thanks, A Little Giving; Not At All a Bad Time.

"Turkey lurky doo and turkey lurky dap. I eat that turkey and I take a nap."
- Adam Sandler, "The Thanksgiving Song"

Yesterday, the day of giving thanks, would be a day that firmly broke years of tradition. Instead of spending the day in Madison, Wisconsin surrounded by family, a slight dusting of snow, and food that I didn't have to cook, I spent it in California, where the company was small, the sun was shining, and hours of food preparation needed to happen. And you know something? It was pretty great. The three of us recent Californians crafted our own Thanksgiving meal from scratch. This was the menu:

• Turkey (of course)
• Garlic mashed potatoes
• Sweet potatoes with brown sugar and marshmallows
• Green bean casserole
• Pumpkin pie

And yes, all of it was homemade and all of it was delicious. Even more surprising than the fact that no limbs were burned or bruised during the course of preparing the meal was the lack of homesickness that I felt while eating it. Sure, I still wished that I could have been back in Wisconsin, celebrating with the family (and a rousing pool tournament to boot), but it never detracted from the overall feeling of joy I got from having Turkey Day with two of my best friends.

So what do I have to be thankful for the day after Thanksgiving? Well, I'm thankful that I could still enjoy some sweet potatoes in 70 degree weather.


Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake

This All Looked Better in the Brochure, Sir.

"So just lay your head down low. Don't let anybody know that it's hard to live in the city."
- Albert Hammond, Jr. - "Hard to Live (In the City)"

The first month of California living: an overwhelming discomfort and displacement.

That's the reality of "the dream." For the first brief while, this place was absolutely everything that an outsider could imagine it as, at least on a physical level. The palm trees, the intense sunshine, and the overall rosy tint of the landscape were all too easy to become absorbed by. The fact that our apartment building offers a large swimming pool and hot tub also lent itself to that special secluded resort ambiance; our own piece of paradise. But those things slowly became overshadowed by the bigger issues.

Jobs were hard to come by. Also, there is no such thing as "easy" or "quick" travel in Southern California. Everything is a process within a process wrapped in a debacle.

Let's start with the job hunt. I'd spend hours online applying to literally hundreds of jobs that were posted on the major career search sites. Then I'd spend a few more hours driving up and down the streets of North Hollywood looking for any door that had a "We're Hiring" sign posted behind the glass. And when none of that was successful, I even resorted to using Craigslist. I need not tell you at this point that situations were dire. But with a bit of persistence and a couple of fruitless interviews, I was finally able to land a job as a security officer for Universal Studios. The hours were meak, the pay was mediocre, and the job description read like how-to guide on death by sheer boredom. But it was a job that let me afford to live in my little resort. And I suppose I could have done worse. As it is, I have the privelage of just patroning In-N-Out Burger instead of donning a paper hat and stepping behind the fryer. That I could be thankful for.

Also, my place of work afforded me the rare occurance of being able to use public transportation instead of my car to travel. This is lucky because I'm compelled to say that if I had been forced to take the 101 or the 405 to and from work everyday, I would have long ago ceased to be. Coming from the Midwest, I'm used to driving 10 miles in roughly 10 minutes. But "no way," says LA. On the contrary: I'd consider myself lucky if I could get to the city in less time than it takes to catch, kill, and cook a turkey.

But those are the prices to be paid for living in such a "happening" place, I suppose. And, again, things could be much worse. I could still be unemployed and without any mode of transportation whatsoever. Or I could be blind.

That would probably be worse.

This Entry In Song:
Albert Hammond, Jr. - "Hard to Live (In the City)"

Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake

I'm Pretty Sure This Might Be the Life.

"We'd waste our weeks beneath the sun. We'd fry our brains and say it's so much fun out here. And when it's all over, I'll come back for another year."
- Jack's Mannequin - "Holiday From Real"

The first day of California living: a late-night slumber party of excitement.

I'll consider the "first day" here to be the day after all of the bags were unpacked, all of the groceries were bought, and the general living area was situated enough for us to call our apartment something more than a large storage bin. Those first twenty-four hours were actually something I'd deem "splendid."

It was a miniature vacation, really. It was a day at the spa...



...combined with a Hollywood tour...



(Clockwise from top left: Tiny HOLLYWOOD Sign, Mann's Chinese Theater, Richard Pryor's Star, Hidden Spider-Man.)

...placed neatly overtop lots of lounging in the sunshine.



Quite frankly, it was a bit like being a kid in a candy store; that is, if by "kid" I meant "legal drinker" and by "candy store" I meant "debauchery-ville." Because let's face it, you can't really enjoy LA unless you're also enjoying a good hangover the next day. And there was plenty of that, too.



They were all of the fantastically empty experiences that I thought I could have out here. And nothing more. And I was happy with that.


This Entry In Song:
Jack's Mannequin - "Holiday From Real"
My Favorite Highway - "Simple Life"


Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake

Long Distances For Small Spaces.

"All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go."
- Peter, Paul, and Mary - "Leaving On a Jet Plane"

Sunday, September 14th, 2008. It was moving day. Packed into small and flexible groups were the essential items that I'd be needing for both the road trip as well as our ending destination in North Hollywood. These tiny subsections of my livelihood contained just enough to get me by: clothing, kitchen supplies, and your average odor-defying bathroom products. My lady friend (or "girlfriend," in case she reads this and gets upset that I called her my lady friend), Emily, did not share my sense of petite packing. I have confidence that if I had let her bring her actual bedroom closet, she would have.

But let's move on, for fear of digressing.

The drive from the Midwest to the West Coast qualifies as my first "real" road trip. For the first time, I crossed more than one state boundary in a single sitting. And for the most part, it was enjoyable. Four of us braved the everlasting stretches of roads: accompanying me and my better third was Emily's father (who supplied his truck to tow our spiffy Nissan Sentra packed to the brim with "essentials") and sister--a pair of kind souls if ever I'd met any. There were plenty of sights to be seen, plenty of songs to be heard, and the frequent stops for gas gave us opportunities to interact with the locals.

It was also 28 hours in a car.

In my head, I envisioned the trip going something like this: "Look, there goes the Iowa border! Look it's the Rocky Mountains! Hey, it's Las Vegas! What's that? We're in California already?"

(Now Entering: Warp Speed)

In reality, it was closer to this: "Why in the hell does it take so long to pass through Utah?"

(Not Pictured: Fun in Utah)

But when we finally saw the official road sign promising us that we had entered the boundaries of California, I can safely say that the excitement was palpable...and probably just a little sticky. We had arrived to our destination in four separate pieces...as four separate persons are inclined to do.

Having never seen our apartment in person before, I was prepared to be overwhelmed. I was also prepared to be underwhelmed (just in case). I wasn't prepared to be just whelmed, which is exactly what I was. I didn't have strong feelings either way about our new living set-up. The place was a 1-Bedroom but would have 3 people (including our mutual friend, Molly) living within its walls, which makes for a very cramped Three's Company scenario. It looked beautiful, clean, and generally welcoming, but its diminutive stature simply didn't lend itself to being a habitual resting place for large parties of people--or even just a few, large party people. Let me say it another way: if I lived in the apartment alone, I'd be singing to the ceilings that I'd "moved on up." Instead, I realized how individual cashews must feel in those small little cans.

On the other hand, my previous apartment was a studio and it featured what my girlfriend and I lovingly referred to as a "bedcouch." So, it was still a step in the right direction. Plus, I'd be living with a good friend and a girlfriend. And I'd be fulfilling my dream to start living my days without being steeped in regret over the things that I hadn't done. And that's worth a long drive in a cramped car and a year in a cramped apartment.

Because sometimes in life, you have to deal with cramps to achieve your dreams. And that's a phrase worthy of its own bumper sticker if ever I've heard one.

The Three Stages of Travel (In Song):
The Happy Start. Stone Temple Pilots - "Interstate Love Song"
The Long, Long Middle. Modest Mouse - "Out of Gas"
The Big Arrival. Phantom Planet - "California"

Be Back Soon,

Shaky Jake

A Preface.

For the past two months, I have been living "The California Dream." On September 14th, I moved from the little ol' Midwest with a friend, a girlfriend, and an ambition to entertain the masses on the West Coast. It was not a move made in a moment of spontaneity or out of fleeting excitement, but rather a long path of decisions leading up to one strong jump across many boundaries--of family, education, and of course, states.

It was also decided that the move would not be a permanent one. It would last for just a year.

The purpose of this online journal is to chronicle the events that happen within that year under the California sun and to hopefully provide an interesting spin on what it is to "live the dream" from the eyes of a Calif-Iowan. I will recount my trials and tribulations of attempting to thrive in the entertainment capital of the world while also detailing the general quirks and various tidbits of everyday life: work, play, relationships, et cetera...

There may not be an entry every day--or for that matter, every week--because it is unrealistic to assume that something of note will happen at all times. Still, I will try to put aside my prejudices on what is and isn't interesting to give as full an accounting as possible. It is my hope that once the year has passed, IA to LA will be the bearer of much insight.

It is my hope, too, that it won't bore you to death.

Enjoy.


Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake


* Because I have waited two months to come up with this brilliant (?) idea, the initial few posts will be more retrospective than in-the-moment. Bear with me. I promise that they will be just as enthralling as the entries that are to follow. I pinky swear.