I've come to a startling realization.

Actually I came to my realization a few years ago, but it still startles me, nontheless.

I like living in Los Angeles. I mean, I really like it. I almost love it.

Just shoot me now, ok?

I was born and raised a Navy brat. Y'all know what that involves. A lot of moving, a lot of living in different states, and a lot of new people and environments. But my earliest memories, good and bad, were of living in Rhode Island. I fondly remember experiencing four completely different seasons, with multicolored leaf piles heralding the school year and snow angels and snow fights during Christmas break, rainy spring days viewed wistfully through the window and the freedom of hot, humid, sun-burning summer. Though we lived in Rhode Island for only a few years, my childhood is tinted by the rose-colored loveliness of New England, and I swore that I would someday move back there.

Fast forward about eight years, to our time living in San Diego. I discovered a number of passions and obsessions that would help get me through my teen years, the chief passion being acting. I became involved in the Drama Club and was cast in my first two plays, one through school and one community theatre production. Suddenly, my path was clear. When I grew up, I would move to Conneticut or Vermont or the New York countryside and commute, by train, to New York City, where I would pursue acting. Ahhh, the certainty of youth.

Eventually my family made its way to Los Angeles. Having retired from the Navy, Dad found a job with an aerospace company in Santa Monica. I became (and remain) best friends with the daughter of a well respected (and very funny) ventriloquist/figure maker. I gained friends, lost most of my near-crippling shyness and kept dabbling in theatre, enjoying life, for the most part, but waiting for the day I'd "go home".

That's not quite the way things worked out, primarily due to my own slothfulness, but for years I convinced myself that I would, eventually, move back to New England. I didn't like California, and had a habit of putting it down. I couldn't cope with only two seasons, bright-hot and rainy-cold (though rainy-cold was my favorite). In my elitist, pseudo-intellectual mind, California's infamous, unrelenting sunniness was only so much set dressing, nothing truly having to do with life. (Odd mindset for a wannabe actress/writer, but those who fancy themselves creative types are rarely logical).

My views towards California changed a bit after I'd visited San Francisco and Lake Tahoe and fell in love with both cities. Ok, maybe I was wrong. Not all of California is so strange. Northern California would be acceptable, as long as I was near a major metropolitan area. (Though I love the beauty of sparsely populated areas, I knew I couldn't be happy too far from a big city. Even if I never avail myself of all the wonders a big city offers, I at least need the promise of variety.)

I ended up living in east San Fernando Valley and actually working in entertainment, however tangential (tangentially?). I joked with people about their machines calling my machines to set up a time to "do lunch". I worked a few fund rasiers and got a little jaded about being able to walk on the Disney lot at any time or having been on most of the studio lots in town. I started hanging out in places loaded with "show-biz types" sitting at their tables, reading their trades and scripts, cel phones in one hand and lattes in the other. Some of them were even older balding guys with ponytails. (People who fulfill stereotypes make me laugh.)

Then it hit me.

I liked it. I really liked it. And that worried me. Did that mean I was shallow, even pretentious?

In a way, yes. Not so much the shallow part, because I think if I were truly shallow I wouldn't worry about being shallow. At least, I don't think I would. But I have to admit that I can be a tad on the pretentious side. Which I'm actually ok with. Sometimes I think one needs a small slice of pretentiousness to survive in L.A.

It took a while for me to get used to it, though. Just like it took a while for me to get used to the idea of enjoying my life in L.A. True, there's a definite sense of the superficial which abounds, but I've come to terms with that and I don't let it get to me.

It helps that I've managed to attract friends who are not shallow. People with whom I can have conversations about a wide range of subjects and who understand that a rewarding life is about more than picture deals and auditions and money (though that doesn't stop us from bitching when we're perpetually low on funds). I guess I've been very fortunate with my friends, as well as my eminently down-to-earth family. Their presence in my life keeps me grounded, reminds me that, as fun and exciting as living in an industry town can be, it can also be heartbreaking to most folks.

Still, I love the variety of Los Angeles, the theatres and concert stages, both huge and tiny, the parks, restaurants, coffee houses and funky little shops. Venice Beach with its parade of diverse humanity and Third Street Promenade in all its bustling, crowded, over-priced glory.

People can be very friendly here, and after a short while, one learns to differentiate between true friendliness and the false front of someone looking to make a showbiz connection.

I have to admit, sometimes I still get a secret little kick out of seeing Ed Begley, Jr. pushing his cart of groceries to his little EV1, Jo Anne Worley picking out fruit or Bob Hope exiting a coffee place with his assistant.

Gosh, Los Angeles sure can be fun.