Give Me Shelter

It has been observed that when an elephant has been caged for an extended period of time, it won't leave the cage when the door is opened because it doesn't realize that it's free. I offer an alternative view: what if the elephant knows it can leave the cage but simply doesn't want to?


Today I was asked what I'm going to do with all my free time once my tests are over (possibly one month from today if I passed test #3). This is actually something I've thought a lot about during many sleepless nights. My fellow test-takers all joke about it, but a legitimate part of me is scared that once I have a life, I won't know what to do with it. I am afraid that I will race through these tests, only to find boredom and loneliness at the finish line.


I'm going to devote the rest of this entry to my apprehensions about the world outside my cage:

I have decided that Los Angeles is the significant other who doesn't treat me well but has never cheated. It's hard to know if and when to walk away.

I grew up in a small town. If you passed someone walking on the street, you said hello - regardless of whether or not you knew them. In Los Angeles, you don't talk to people you don't know. Even a friendly smile and simple 'hi' will be reciprocated with alien stares or rude mutterings (this has happened). As a female, other females will never talk to you, and males will only do so to make a rude or sexual comment. You will spend your life sitting in traffic or, if walking or biking, trying not to get hit by an angry driver.

The only way to restore your wavering faith in humanity is to travel outside the city. Eventually, you must either accept your life as is, or relocate.

Finally, my plea to the nice, friendly residents of Los Angeles: please come out of hiding.
Preferably on or around April 2.