“The Twelve Months of 2006”
A Retrospective on the Year After the Worst Year of My Life

Part One - January

I decided to visit my brother for a couple of days before I came back to finish packing up my apartment. As much as I hated car ownership, I must admit that being able to get to San Francisco with little advance planning and a tank of gas was a treat. I simply put some clothes in a bag, filled up the tank, bought snacks and left.

There are two groups of hills one has to pass through on Interstate 5 before entering the Central Valley. After the first set you enter the valley everyone knows about. Then you drive another 45 minutes or so and through some other hills and then you go down a long mountain. At this point you have a pretty straight flat drive to San Francisco. None of this is remarkable accept that as I drove down the second set of mountains I immediately felt lighter. Despite my year in LA, I’m not generally prone to depression and therefore don’t really think about the physical toll it takes on one’s body. I knew my hair was falling out and my stomach hurt almost daily. But I didn’t know that just driving away from the source would quite literally lift my spirits. I still remember vividly taking a deep breath for what seemed like the first time in a very long time.

Once I got there my brother asked how long I was staying. I replied that I would stay a couple of days. I’d go back Monday.

“Why?”

It then dawned on me that I could stay as long as I wanted. As long as I was back to finish packing I could hang out with my brother indefinitely. And so I did.

There were many aspects of my old life that I took for granted. Things I missed terribly when I lived in LA. One such thing was walking. I am a devout pedestrian. And like any profoundly pious follower of that life I hated driving. The beauty of San Francisco is that it’s one of the few places west of the Mississippi where you don’t have to. So I walked and I walked and I walked. I went to the beach (yes, it was cold), to the museum, to bars, to Neiman Marcus (I’m still me), all on foot. I think I really missed being connected to people in the way you can be without the armor of a car and wide roads.

I missed urbanity.

During that time I really reconnected with my brother. We foolishly had spent most of my time in LA being angry with each other over nothing so we didn’t visit hang out with each other until the fall. So it was in January that we began making up for some serious lost time.

It never ceases to amaze me or anyone who hangs out with both of us just how similar we are. It’s so nice to not have to explain why you want to have brunch at the Neiman Marcus Rotunda, or the importance of architecture and city planning, or what’s so great about looking at things you can’t afford. For two people who thought we were incredibly different, we’ve turned out to be eerily alike. So basically we spent the entire month going from fancy bar to fancy store to fancy museum. It was the way life was meant to be.

I also spent a bit of time reflecting. Since my leaving Los Angeles was soon to be for good, I used up an afternoon at a Union Square café making a top 10 list of things I would miss about LA:

10. The Los Angeles Times
I may have been one of the few LA residents who actually read the newspaper, so I may be the only person qualified to discuss its attributes. I’ve actually read the Los Angeles Times for some time now. One of my assignments at my first job out of college was to comb various newspapers all over the country for articles about civil rights issues, so basically I was paid to read the newspaper for a couple of hours each day (not a bad gig). In doing so I became familiar with the reporting at different newspapers throughout the US and abroad. I was always pleasantly surprised with the quality of the articles I read in the Los Angeles Times. As an East Coaster, you can easily come to think there are really only two or three papers and while the quality of reporting at the New York Times, the Washington Post and occasionally the Chicago Tribune is unmatched anywhere else in the US, I wasn’t disappointed by the coverage in the Los Angeles Times. I even had a friend who felt that the Los Angeles Times was the only paper poised to challenge to the venerable New York Times on the national newspaper stage. The main problem is readership. Too bad people in LA would rather read US Weekly. They’re missing out…

9. The Getty Museum’s Friday Nights
The first Friday night of every month (not sure about winter months) The Getty Museum stays open late, sets up a bar and hosts live music. If you’re not familiar with The Getty Museum, it is an architecturally beautiful building with amazing views, what some call a mediocre art collection, and an overly enthusiastic acquisitions department. To get to it one must sit in traffic (this is the first step to getting anywhere in LA), park your car in the cavernous garage (this is the second step to getting anywhere in LA), and ride a tram to the top of a mountain in Brentwood. The views are stunning and on Friday nights you can watch the sun set while listening to live jazz and drinking a glass of wine with friends. I took my mom when she came to visit and it went over well.

8. Zen Nail Spa
This was my favorite nail salon when I was in LA. Once a month I traveled to Robertson between Wilshire and Olympic to treat myself. For $26 you get a spa mani/pedi with hot oil treatment while sitting in a leather electric massage chair. It’s certainly not the cheapest mani/pedi in LA, but it’s the cheapest mani/pedi in a massage chair in Beverly Hills with a hot oil treatment, and therefore was my favorite.

7. The beach
I will say that the terrain and the weather in LA are truly to be missed. Although I’ve reconnected with my love of Fall and seasons generally and so far this has been a pleasant and mild winter, I must say I miss going to the beach all year round. I spent several Saturday afternoons with a bottle of wine, Boursin, a baguette, a good book, and the Pacific. It was nice.

6. Doughboys
Doughboys on Third between Fairfax and La Cienega was my favorite brunch spot. The meals were hardy, the service was friendly, and the atmosphere was unpretentious. I loved it. I took all who came to visit to brunch there and everyone had a good time. I went at least once a month. My friends in New York (and DC for that matter) would call me a bit of a brunch aficionado. I am obsessed with finding the newest, coolest brunch place. Thanks to Time Out New York Magazine and my adventurous friends I’ve found some amazing brunch places here in the city. But I’ll always remember Doughboys…

5. Café Tartine
This became my favorite restaurant during my time in Los Angeles. It was a French bistro on the corner of Martel and Beverly. Café Tartine was quiet, small, simple and sophisticated, read: not very LA. They had a delicious Crème Brulee. And the Coq-Au-Vin was divine AND reasonably priced. My friend Sally’s birthday party was held there at my suggestion and all invited had a good time.

It was so good that it was sad but not unexpected when I was told that it went out of business a couple months after I left.

There goes the neighborhood.

4. Griffith Park
I didn’t start visiting Griffith Park until the fall, but once I started I visited quite often. For those of you not in the know Griffith Park is one of the largest municipal parks in the nation. There are endless trails, horseback riding, tennis, swimming, golf, a concert hall, and the park is host to the Observatory as well as the Hollywood sign. The free days when I wasn’t at the beach with wine I was here with friends. P.S. Thanks Sally for being a great hiking buddy!

3. Los Angeles Central Library
My hometown, Columbus, Ohio has one of the best public library systems in the country. More residents of Columbus use the library than do residents in any other city, per capita. I mention this because I grew up going to the library. So I feel justified in saying that the downtown branch of the Los Angeles public library system is a terrific place to visit. Its eight floors (four of which are subterranean) are lit by a building length skylight; the book collection is of good quality, and the entire building is wireless. I don't know how many hours of my year were spent there, but they were all well worth it.

2. New Friends
As I’ve mentioned, my time in LA was pretty lonely for me. Up until last year I had spent all of my adult life in areas densely populated with people similar to me. That made it very easy to make friends. It was quite a surprise to find myself in a place so completely foreign and full of values so different from mine, which up until then I thought were universal. This made the friends I did come to know even more important. Thanks Antonne, Clark, Kim-Monique (though I live near you now, if I wasn’t in LA we wouldn’t have met), Kyle, Marcie, Sally, et all for making last year bearable.

1. My Brother
Okay, so he doesn’t live in LA, but when I lived in LA (after we stopped being mad at each other for no reason) I got to see him every couple of weeks. Now I live 3000 miles away again and therefore don’t get to see him whenever I want. That sucks. And so the great “Get My Brother to Move to New York” campaign began…

Long Time, No Write

“Do you think you only write when you’re depressed?”

“No, what do you mean? Why?”

“I don’t know, you haven’t written anything since you left LA and I was wondering if you’ve stopped writing because you’re back on the East Coast?”

Damn. She had a good point.

I tend to only befriend extremely smart people with superior critical thinking skills. Then I act surprised when they call me out.

Throughout this soon to be over year I’ve had experiences I’ve wanted to write about, things I’ve wanted to say and insights to share. But something has kept me from recommitting to write. I’ve narrowed it down to two things:

1. I have had this fantasy of a triumphant return to AnikaTweaka. One where I go away for a few months and come back a brazen, Carrie Bradshaw-esque New Yorker with a fabulous apartment, an amazing job and a closet filled with sample sale items. I have been unwilling to let this dream go and in the meantime I haven’t shared some of the greatest experiences I’ve ever had. So I’m giving that up, not the fantasy of the constant sample sales, but the imposition it’s caused for the blog.
2. I'll admit that one of the original reasons for starting my blog was an LA-induced loneliness. There were very few people with whom I felt I could really connect. So I wrote a blog, a message in a bottle to kindred spirits all over. The blog connected me with folks I knew well, new friends I’d made, and complete strangers. But now that I’m where I should be and surrounded by a healthy cadre of good friends, does that mean I should drop off the blogoshpere universe? No, of course not. I’m giving that up, too.
So dear readers, please forgive me for the ridiculously long sabbatical from chronicling life. I’ve decided, if you’ll have me back, to reintroduce myself by creating “The Twelve Months of 2006 – A Retrospective on the Year After the Worst Year of My Life."



Prologue
I left the job that was making me physically, emotionally, and mentally ill. You see, in my four months with the unnamed public health organization I was almost an accessory to murder. My own, actually. The 10, then six, then four employees of this organization supposedly in existence to promote positive health outcomes for black people, was in fact attempting to drive each staff member to suicide and/or murder. And I participated – by continuing to work there thinking that I was fighting the good fight. Here’s a short chronicle of my time there:

Day One:
After seeing a rat in the building where I was to work, I attend a “Two-day Strategic Planning Meeting” (I use quotations as I witnessed nothing strategic or planning related in the 2 days I participated).

My saving grace was a dear old friend who was in town doing some freelance work. Annoyed at having been roped into flying in to participate in the mess that was the “Two-day Strategic Planning Meeting” he and I went out for drinks where he said, “I wish I’d known you were applying for this; I would’ve told you not to take the job.”

That was day one.

Month Two:
My boss quit. I was working with her on a national project; she was the person I respected most at the entire (six, then five person) operation and had been with the organization for several years. The summer before I started she took leave to tend to her mental health and to “deal with the stress of this place.”

My boss was the sanest person there.

The job had driven her mad, literally.

Also, my uncle died and I found out at the office. As I left to pack and head to the airport the Deputy Director said “we’ll work with you to make up the time off.” You see the office had punitive if not draconian policies and procedures with respect to leave, meaning there was none for three months, and then no vacation for a year. Did I mention the mission of the organization was to promote health? Anyway, the 50-page procedures manual didn’t take into account that someone might die within the probationary period. So I left for a week to attend a funeral (read – not a vacation) and when I got back I got my check, sans one week’s pay. Apparently the phrase “we’ll work with you to make up the time off” meant “we’ll dock you a week’s pay while you’re grieving.” Thanks team!

Month Three:
In addition to running a national program by myself, I was asked to take over the planning of a national meeting, which was to happen in three weeks. At the time there were no plenary speakers, a rough at best conference schedule and no budget.
That month I worked everyday, Saturdays and Sundays included. I even worked a little on Thanksgiving. My brother came to visit for a weekend and he even put together a mailing for them.

I somehow feel as though I made up the time off.

Month Four:
The meeting happened. It was a success.

I had a mental and emotional breakdown. I was at the end of my rope.

I checked out. I needed to get away from the “health organization,” from LA, from all diseased things, people, and places.

At the end of the conference, the Executive Director said that it was a critical time for the organization and therefore all pre-holiday leave was cancelled. Everyone was to report the next day, after working the entire weekend.

Good thinking. Great timing. Stellar management.

I went home for the holidays. My mom told me to quit and not go back. Her advice was based upon the fact that my hair was falling out, my skin had broken out and I had a recurring stomach virus that appeared strikingly similar to the beginning of an ulcer. I would have followed her advice but I still had to pack my things, which were in LA. During my post conference mental breakdown I had given notice on my apartment and had to be out by the beginning of February. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get out of working there and pack and move by February but I figured everything would work out. So I vowed to go back and collect a paycheck until the rest of my things were packed and I could leave.

And miraculously everything worked out.

As I walked out of the office for the last time I felt a sense of immense relief that I would never have to go back there again.

I even think the rat I saw in the building on my first day tipped his hat and waved goodbye.

Which brings us to January...