Ordinary + Extra = Extra – Ordinary…

Traditional mathematical properties would state this as “true”.

Logical, makes sense… Right?

But in language, this is more than just a simplified principle.

Growing up, I always wanted to be “normal”

Most would say “normal” is boring… but that’s what I wanted.

Or so I thought…

My life has been anything but fucking normal.

I grew up in Los Angeles County… Even lived in Hollyweird for 5 seconds.

It’s not news to most that LA is anything but the conventional living standard.

But “normalcy” is what I desired…

As I continue to “grow up” (whatever the fuck that means anymore…) I’ve accepted my fate that life will NEVER be “normal”. It’s just not mathematically, statistically, realistically possible.

Between the studios, the regular celebrity citings, growing up near/in entertainment, fast paced traffic, the competition, the pressure, the expectations of everyone, the pace of everything in LA, (and as I got older) I saw the drugs, horrific car accidents, suicides, and tragic endings to friendships, marriages, and even people… I’d say, it’s safe to say, that my life never has been, nor will be “normal”.

I promise there’s a point to this.

I’m not just some city chick complaining about her life…

(I’m barely even a city chick anymore)

Despite all the “darkness” in the city of angels, there is some light.

I’m very grateful for everything I’ve experienced…

Everything has taught me lessons that inspire my art, music, thoughts, words, journal entries, and even help me be more “me”.  

But, being ordinary… isn’t everything…

Story Time:

While struggling as a baby artist, fresh out of college, glorious time in London history, circa 2015, I met a fellow artist/musician/misunderstood soul.

He was naturally talented, funny, sweet, and incredibly unpredictable.

He had demons, but there was something about this relatable darkness that made his soul beautiful.

We kept in touch for a while and then I left LA, moved to San Diego, (where “he” was actually from, growing up with a “normal” “boring” life) and partially went separate ways with an occasional “hello” “how are you”.

He was a wanderer… like me, trying to figure it all out. Lost in a city, where some people love you, others hate you, and the closest people misunderstand you.. but you’re here in this world trying to grasp whatever it is you’re supposed to grasp in order to be/feel alive.

We met when both of us were in dark places, but we understood each other and said we would do better and try this life thing again and again and again…

But, life is never ordinary, nor easy to grasp…

On Dec 26, 2023, my friend, the misunderstood soul, the artist, the musician, the weirdo, the man who once lied to a security guard about a man shitting in a bucket, the one who disappeared and was found later by a woman who died of cancer, the one who bought a handle of vodka, and got into some random woman’s car because it looked like mine, while we were adventuring in Pasadena, that artist with a natural gift, the guitar player with a beautiful voice, and soft heart.. He left this ordinary world.

He was extra. He was sporadic. He was eccentric. He was lost. But he was my friend. He understood my pain. I understood his.

He called while I was at dinner with family a few months ago. I answered . Told him I would call back. And being caught in this “ordinary” bullshit, I forgot to call back.

He message me sometime ago, and said “It looks like I’ll never see you again” … But I assured him I would. That I was saving to leave San Diego. And that one day when I wasn’t so busy we’d meet up and catch up! that I would visit him and his girlfriend.

I thought FOR SURE I would see him again.

The last time I saw him was that day in Pasadena. The day we went for a walk around Old Town.

He was right.

Sometimes, we get so caught up in the fucking ordinary… we get caught up in the stupid bullshit they call “life”… we worry about whether the world will take us seriously…. We get so caught up in this.. that we miss moments to embrace the extraordinary… our friends, enjoy each other’s honest company, and appreciate those who never cared about what the world thought.

I admired his free thinking. I admired his strength. I admired his independence.

I wish I had taken 1 hour of my work day to give him a call one more time.

This is a reminder to everyone… make time for your friends. Doesn’t have to be everyday.. but even just an hour, every few months.

It’s just a fucking hour.

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