This is supposed to be the City of Angels, but it is also the city of miscreants, dreamers and those halfway between the heavenly and something more pedestrian. From the South Bay to the San Fernando Valley, from the Eastside neighborhoods to the Westside beaches, Los Angeles is a sprawling, ungainly and beautifully diverse metropolis that is home - however temporary, however permanent - to us all. 
Following graduation in 2005 from NYU, my move to the west coast provided quite a drastic shift in scenery, ascetically as well as culturally. The stunning views of the Pacific on that long and winding stretch of PCH are definitely a refreshing change from the metal and glass skyscrapers that tower over the concrete jungle of New York.
For the first time in my life I never have to check the weather! So when I'm stuck in traffic on the 405 or coughing up a lung from the horrendous LA air, I remind myself that I'll probably never need an umbrella or scarfs and gloves as long as I remain in southern California.
I'm convinced the sun makes everyone out here so laid-back (sunlight=increase in serotonin levels=bliss :D), a complete 180 from the Type-As that surrounded me in the city. That said, I've also never met so many people who start work at 10 or 11 in the morning and take three-day weekends.
Now this type of easygoing attitude runs counterintuitive to my Northeast upbringing and experience. However, this more relaxed approach to life has afforded me the freedom to balance work and play at a greater ease than that of the rushed and hectic atmosphere of Manhattan. I've enjoyed this carefree environment for the past two years, and I can hope it continues throughout my time at Annenberg!
- Katherine Carroll
Let me preface this entry with one comment: I am an East-coaster for life.
I like L.A., I really do. It's been my home for a little over two years now. The move here was a change of pace, literally. My world slowed down. The lifestyle is significantly more laid-back than I had expected. I think some would describe it as "leisurely" or "relaxed". It's not necessarily a negative, just different. Sometimes the lack of haste tests my patience, but learning to have more never killed anyone, right?
Despite this new atmosphere, one aspect I have thoroughly enjoyed is meeting the people of L.A. Having encountered both locals and transplants, it's been a thrilling and enlightening experience. There's my tattoo artist, whose eight-year old son travels with Ozzfest; the eccentric Canadien who adores her pet rats and horned lizard; and my carpenter friend posing as a PhD student with a proclivity for living out of his VW van.
I can say that my penchant for beaches, lack of humidity, and vegetarian-friendly food has been satisfied. I am still adjusting to Pacific Standard Time when it comes to televised sports. However, I can't argue with a 5 PM MNF start time after a long Monday.
I still haven't completely embraced SoCal. But maybe in another two years, after connecting with a few more quirky characters, the city will have grown on me.
- Shannon Carroll
Being from San Diego, it seems that I grew up in a miniature version of Los Angeles. Both cities are diverse, sprawling, and plagued with traffic.
However, I experienced a true difference between the two places on the very night I moved in to my new apartment near USC. Unable to temper my urge to explore, I drove up to Beverly Hills on La Cienega blvd. It surprised me that in just three miles I could go from an industrial, urban setting to one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in the country.
San Diego, conversely, has distinct boarders between suburbs. Whether it is a mountain, freeway, or body of water, the change between socioeconomic areas is at most gradual.
I look forward to exploring all that Los Angeles has to offer, as there is a new discovery to be made around literally every street corner.
- Jonathan Horn
When I close my eyes and think of what La-La land is, I see one of the world's centers of culture, entertainment, technology, international trade, higher education, and traffic. A city of Angels where people come to pursue an array of "dreams." A city where the sun shines almost everyday, and the stars are on the sidewalk instead of in the night sky. The 405 has become a large component of my life, from the billboards that line its perimeter, to the fancy cars that travel on its surface at a mere crawl to mock speed. I have read that LA is the second most populous city in the United States and the largest in California, housing nearly 13 million people from the western beaches to the eastern skyline of the city. A city where anything is possible; a La-La land offering endless opportunities so that anyone can become a shining star.
- Keli Moore
It is a daunting, seemingly uninviting city. It is a city where delineation and diversity co-exist. A city gravely misunderstood by those who do not live here. I've experience the misunderstanding and judgment first hand when traveling with my Bay Area-born family. At some point a waiter inevitably asks us where we are from, and before I have a chance to say “LA” my brother glares at me and shouts “San Francisco.” To him, a simple association with Los Angeles is shameful and repulsive. Yet it's an association with an abstract, undefined place. It is about a misunderstood muddled mess. It is only in interacting with the uniqueness of the neighborhoods and individuals that reside here that a true impression can be formed.
Los Angeles is my home. Well, Santa Monica, really. The ambiguous and expansive nature of the city make it difficult to assess exactly where one does live on the map -- living in West Hollywood means you do indeed live in the city of West Hollywood, while residing in Westwood means a return address of Los Angeles. The lack of definition often causes only those with a strong sense of self to survive. The others are in danger of being swallowed by the stereotypes and victimized by the harsh judgment of the ignorant that do not live here. It is a fight to find one's place here. I have fought hard and found mine.
- Jessica Lewis
When I first arrived in Los Angeles in 1994 as an undergraduate freshman at USC, I was excited to find that my Marks Tower dorm room overlooked the beautiful city skyline. I was awed by the majesty and romanticism of it all. I was 18 years old, away from home for the first time and finally living my childhood dream of becoming a part of "the big city". While I reveled in exploring the campus and surrounding areas, I had no car and would rarely make the necessary arrangements to venture much further. In this first year, I understood L.A. only in terms of this small section of downtown. In turn, my first impression was that Los Angeles was, in fact, the gritty, bustling metropolis that I had come to expect from television and film. I now find this initial understanding of our city to be incomplete, if not naive.
After seven years of living in many different parts of L.A., my impression has changed quite a bit. I now see this place more as a number of different cities connected by freeways. I see Los Angeles as a big city made up of thousands of small communities, and as one arguably lacking an all-encompassing community connecting these various peoples. Another thing that has come to strike me about this city is it's unparalleled cultural and socioeconomic diversity. As I drive down these streets, I often find myself wondering about the many vastly different experiences all taking place at the same time in Los Angeles. The businessman stresses about his luncheon downtown as he walks by the street vendor who is struggles to make rent.
While I still find downtown to be the exciting, urban adventure I once extolled, my impression of Los Angeles has evolved to encompass what I perceive to be a complex mix of people and lifestyles that continues its struggle to find a greater sense of unity.
-Tom Sparks
For me, Los Angeles is a city of contradictions.As most people know, it is home to Hollywood and the entertainment industry which brings it share of actors, performers, writers and artists. The city just drips with creativity. However, on the flip side, the city of Angels has all of the traditional industries represented from law to business to engineering, and it has a very strong economy. In fact, L.A. has some of highest rated medical facitilies in the world. So, LA is more than just "Hollywood" and what some may consider "fluff." In this respect, Los Angeles has a “more than meets the eye” quality.
And if you spend anytime walking around Los Angeles, you will find that it is very diverse. The city is rich with people of all different nationalities, ethnicities, and even languages spoken. However, this diversity is often parceled off into highly segregated neighborhoods, often defined by race, economics and class. Although the city offers an abundance of culture due to its diversity, it is often nestled away in hidden pockets that many are often afraid to venture into due to a lack of understanding or appreciation of those differences.
Even within Los Angeles’ environmental beauty there are contradictions. The city is full of gorgeous people, pristine neighborhoods and beautiful ocean landscapes. It is easy to find palm tree lines streets with beautiful Spanish and Mediterranean style homes. However, if you look on the periphery, you will also see the dirt-ridden faces of the people without homes – the homeless that take refuge on the streets of Los Angeles. Even the weather in Los Angeles can make a person a bit confused. The warm, sunny days of high seventies to low eighties will quickly turn into a chilly night were a sweater is required to brace yourself against the ocean breeze.
My relationship with Los Angeles has been a tricky one since moving here almost 2 years ago. I realize now that I too have inherited its contradictions. I love Los Angeles on the days were the sun is warm and I can see the ocean from a nearby window. However, I often long for the smell of fall, a quick rain shower, familiar faces, historical monuments and the cherry blossom trees of Washington, DC that I used to call home. In truth, Los Angeles is as contradictory as the people that inhabit it, and I now count myself as one of them - rich in diversity, striving to understand and accept difference, and full of contradictions.
Brooke-Sidney
I have often thought to myself that I should shrink and laminate my resume and carry it around like a business card. Indiana is a place where people mean it when they shake your hand and ask you how you have been. Los Angeles is the place where people kiss your check and ask you what you do for a living. Everyone competes with everyone else and no one should dare stay in on a Saturday night. Hollywood is a mentality, one that I have adapted at times and ran away from at others. To battle the vanity that comes with the city I try to stay in touch with my love of the sunshine, outdoors, good friends and everything else LA has brought me over the years. It is a city of a ups and downs, opportunities and heartbreak. I have had a blast so far in this crazy place. I am not sure if I could stay here forever, but until I leave I know I will never lack for adventure.
- Emily Elzer
When i first began to make plans to move out here, i was very excited. I'd be leaving boring Orlando, FL for exciting Los Angeles! However, that definitely wasn't my first impression when I first drove away from the airport. All I could think was how ugly the city was! Hazy mornings, out-of-control traffic, old buildings, and pollution were some of the first things that caught my attention. What were all these people talking about? Even with its minivan-driving tourists and Motel 6's in every corner, Orlando was starting to look nice.
However, after spending a few months here it finally sank in. What makes Los Angeles special is its aura and people. Everyone who lives here just has a particular vibe about them. Real estate prices may be exorbitant, and you need to drive 30 minutes to go to the grocery store, but yet people from LA just love LA. Eventually that vibe spread and now I find myself loving LA as much as them! I'll find myself telling my out-of-town friends that traffic isn't so bad and that paying 300k for a 2 bedroom is not that unreasonable. I guess it just took some time to catch on.
- Patricia Padilla
As long as I have lived just outside Los Angeles, it has remained a vastly mysterious place that is multi-faceted in every aspect. The city is a fragmented landscape with wonderfully distinct geographical areas that range from the posh to the harsh, the pretentious to the desolate, all within reach of a car. It is a place unique in that the ebb and flow of automobiles on the vein-like highways create the pulse of Los Angeles at all times. Everything can be seen from the vantage point of a dashboard, making the vehicle an integral component of the L.A. experience.
The city is really the juxtaposition of the glamorous and the gritty. This dichotomy creates a fascinating environment when two elements co-exist and interact with one another. One can trek through the city and find all the elements of an urban, smog infested metropolitan area, poised next to mountain ranges and serene oceans. And the public that inhabits all of the distinct neighborhoods is as diverse as the structure of the city itself. The collective fragmentation is what defines this unique section of California.
- Claire Webb
In truth, I have always felt a sense of resentment that I was not born in Los Angeles. From the outside looking in, I always soothed my jealous rage with the notion that those who were lucky enough to be born here had done something genuinely altruistic in their previous lives. I naturally assumed there was a merit system based on good deeds and therefore one must have acquired sufficient credentials to earn a place amongst the shade of the palms and the crash of the waves. Possibly teaching a deaf blind puppy to read would warrant such a prize; I don’t know, I consider that a fair trade for paradise.
As I explore the area, my ability to objectively judge- if such a thing exists- is compromised by the prime shopping, delicious eateries and sunshine. These factors tint the lenses of my Dior sunglasses* a distinctive shade of rose as I unconsciously block out the ideas of pending credit card bills, expanding waist lines and melanoma. I believe the scientific terminology of the sensation I am describing is "warm fuzzies". Alas, I am not a science major, so to be certain I will cross-reference it with Wikipedia at a later date.
The L.A. perfection is further personified by the unreal (and also, on occasion, real) hard bodies at the beach; the disproportionate ratio of sunny versus rainy days; and of course the 2007 USC Trojans atop every pre-season poll- Fight on!
Are my casual observations superficial? Perhaps. I guess I will have to ponder it poolside as soon as someone can get my back.
*When in Rome.
- Emily Nerland
When I think of Los Angeles, I think of it as a center for art, culture and entertainment with its popular late-night Hollywood attractions and glamorous club scenes, yet I simultaneously think of its muggy, dirty image with thick-laden smog, worn-down buildings and heavy traffic. I see it as a dichotomy of diversity and division. There are people of so many different cultural backgrounds, yet some areas seem to be severed off from the others because of culture and class niches. I even see these separations in the San Fernando Valley, where I live (a separation from the rest of the county in itself). Even within that subset of Los Angeles (seen as a “nicer” suburban area), the Valley itself has an exhaustive number of subdivisions where sometimes it is not very much distance between unattractive streets with run-down apartments and big, beautiful homes in quiet neighborhoods with property for horses. Sticking mainly to the area of Los Angeles that I grew up in, I have not explored very much of downtown or the south-central region, which makes it all seem more distant and mysterious to me. I do know it is difficult, and probably impossible, to sum up Los Angeles into a single identity, and I am looking forward to finding out the similarities and differences between these regions. It will be interesting to see how the cultures coexist and intermesh in their industrial and artistic urban setting while they also tend to polarize in certain sections of the city and county.
For approximately a year, I gave up my car and forayed back to taking public transportation, a concept almost as foreign as walking in Los Angeles. Taking the 79 from suburbia to the heart of downtown, I was introduced to a Los Angeles that I knew existed but never witnessed. With each stop, there was a new member to our mobile representation of Los Angeles. As the grime and traffic increased, the skyline of Los Angeles became more evident, crystalline skyscrapers rising above the noise and pollution.
Los Angeles has layers. Everyone sees the disjointed communities, the smog, and the traffic. Yet, dig deeper, hidden is a plethora of cultures, cuisines, and communities that somehow meld together. Standing next to the starving artist is the corporate lawyer tied to his blackberry. Yet, it is a mistake to think that LA begins and ends downtown. The county lines reach from the ocean to the valleys. LA is growing and evolving constantly, and I am only beginning to explore it …loving every moment.
Driving the streets of Los Angeles, one cannot help but realize what the term melting pot really means. The inadequate, but popular conception of America as black and white does not even exist here, because the city is undeniably and unapologetically flavored with culture. The antiquated diversity model of antebellum America has been replaced with one that reflects the growing effects of globalization, and one of its epicenters is right here in Los Angeles. There are pockets of it everywhere. Little Armenia, Little China and Little Ethiopia are just a few of the niche neighborhoods in the city that serve as cultural enclaves in the larger community; and throughout the city, one observes cross-cultural interaction that many in this country will never experience. The multitude of languages spoken, wide array of customs and beliefs, and the various amounts of melanin in the skin of the people makes for a cultural experiment with varying results from day to day.
While at times, the cultures may come together and evolve willingly into a part of the proverbial melting pot, at others, they will resist any form of assimilation – often with detrimental effects on the larger community. A perfect example of the second is exhibited in the tension between Blacks and Mexicans that has increasingly erupted into deadly violence over the past several years. Xenophobia, the threat of competition, and ignorance all contribute to forced isolation and inter-cultural tension that makes Los Angeles a frustrating place to live at times. This frustration, however, is not a product of impatience or insensitivity, but because you see the utopian image of Los Angeles as a model of tolerance and positive cultural fusion, instead of the proof of the inability of everyone to get along that it seems like at times. The multitude of cultures that one can experience here is what makes Los Angeles unique, and its beauty can only be fully observed when there is a larger culture of acceptance, understanding and cooperation.
One thirty in the afternoon. Two hours of sleep. Five days in counting. We were driving cross country, starting from the Capital of the United States and ending in the City of Angels. From sea to shining sea. Career-wise, I was prepared for the transition. Culture-wise, I had no idea what to expect.
On the East Coast, where we wear Ann Taylor and Brooks Brothers, our celebrities are politicians, and we spend more hours in front of a computer than on a beach, LA seems to exist as its own entity, separate from the rest of the world. Those outside of this domain view Los Angeles as pure glitz and glamour. And why wouldn’t we? We’re bombarded with programs like The Hills, Entourage, Laguna Beach, The OC, The Girls Next Door, Dr. 90210, and Sunset Tan, that hyperbolize life in Los Angeles this way. The shows, the tabloids, the infotainment, and the blogs, all paint the same idolized picture. In the belly of the beast, money is superfluous and disposable, perfection isn’t inherent but easily acquired, and rules, laws, and social norms are rarely enforced. Everyone is glitzy. Everyone is glamorous. It’s no wonder that my first impression of Los Angeles was as superficial as the people I believed to live there.
We hit the border of Nevada and California, and in a few hours we were in LA. After close calls with some aggressive drivers, presumed to be worse that any Northeastern driver I’d ever encountered, traffic came to a halt on the “freeway,” not “highway.” For an hour. Welcome to the sprawling metropolis where rush hour is every hour. I pulled onto the street which would soon become my new address. I moved into my apartment. I went shopping at Target and Trader Joe’s. I drove out to Malibu in a rented Uhaul to pick up my bed. I drove through Little Armenia, Thai Town, Korea Town, Compton, Inglewood, Beverly Hills, Hollywood. It didn’t take long to correct my earlier misjudgments.
On a deeper level I knew all along that there were different economic and social classes, communities, and people in Los Angeles. I knew that the beautiful city of sun and palm is the same city of crime and poverty. The city of fame and fortune is the same city of struggling artists and immigrants. I knew that the city of angels might just be the city of demons.
My first impression of LA was the Hollywood version, the cinematic version. Maybe it was more exciting that way. The superficiality, the bottled-blondes, perfect tans, chiseled abs, bling bling, BMWs, Porsches, Mercedes, Prada, Fendi, Gucci, airbrushed makeup, miniature dogs, idiotic catchphrases, lies, deceit and rumors, adopted babies, million dollar contracts, reduced jail sentences, promiscuity, instant fame, Scientologists, liposuctions, Botox injections, and nose jobs— they’re all still there. So is the other 90% of Los Angeles.
Everybody has a story. Some stories are boring. Others are riveting. Some leave you feeling good inside, while some make you depressed. Some stories have an end, others have no end in sight.
Los Angeles is a story with no end in sight. The streets go on for miles, the buildings go up forever and the people come by the thousands. To capture Los Angeles in one blog isn't enough. To even attempt to capture L.A. in a book would only scratch the surface.
Today, I began my new found love affair with L.A.. I grew up an hour northwest of here, but I really don't know all that much about the city itself. I know downtown, and I know Dodger Stadium. That's pretty much it. When I found out I was going to East L.A., I was happy because it was a place that I would probably never go unless I was forced to. Driving down to Boyle Heights, as soon as we got off the freeway, it was just as if we had stepped into Ensenada, Mexico. Shops and restaraunts lined the streets with open doors. Reds, greens and whites jumped out, each color trying to outdo the other in grabbing the attention of the public. Lunch was as authentic as a Mexican meal can be. I was surprised to find the Pico de Gallo sauce to be hotter than the salsa itself. Is this how they do it in East L.A.?
At Homeboy, we were greeted by an ex-gang member named Joey Ray. He has tattoos on his arms and under any other circumstance, would have been a very intimidating figure. In fact, everyone in Homeboy was visually intimidating. Tattoos, Locs, baggy jeans, Adidas Shoes, buzzed heads - all characteristics of a gang member. That's because all of these kids in Homeboy were just that - gang memberrs. But in here, they were just kids looking for a decent job. Homeboy has a slogan - "Jobs, not Jail." They get kids jobs, reduce their criminal record and even remove tattoos. In Homeboy, the kids can get away from life on the streets and focus on bettering their lives.
While it was inspiring to hear the story of Homeboy, I was much more interested in the story of Joey Ray. I wanted to sit down with him and start from the beginning. "When did you start banging?...why did you turn to crime?...what are the meaning of your tattoos?..." I wanted to barrage him with questions. His story of triumph is a story that should be told. But my questions weren't limited to him. I wanted to ask every single person in the room the same questions.
I wanted to run from him, talk to him, hug him and hang out with him - all at the same time.
And that is what left me yearning for more. I want to interview all 100 people in the building. I want to interview all 1000 people on the block. L.A. has millions of people, which translates to billions of stories. Unfortunately, it is impossible to tell them all. As a journalist in L.A., I have the feeling that I will constantly be yearning for more.
Los Angeles is a city of extremes: a fortress of different worlds in one huge, sprawling grid. Consequently, the feeling of displacement is constantly renewed from one block to another. Do not get comfortable; you will inevitably be shaken from your semi-formed roots by cultural, and earthly, quakes. On Hollywood Boulevard the homeless sit above the stars; in Thai Town, a Country and Western themed bar is decorated with U.S. flags and animal skulls, serving Sake and Asian food alongside Corona and Budweiser. During the day, the moon shines sprightly out of a flawless blue sky--while at night, it is a city-dimmed sliver that could be mistaken for a street lamp.
Where is there to call ‘home’ in this mish-mashed complex of alternative perspectives? The people of Hollywood are divided into ‘those who look up to the Hills’ and ‘those who look down from the hills,’ without a comfortable medium. Everything in between is a nameless, disturbing limbo. In Santa Monica, million dollar homes rise out of streets where men shout and spit at invisible demons. Downtown, students working on their hundred-thousand-dollar education are offered fake I.Ds and social security numbers for forty bucks.
And yet, there is something to be found in this land of displacement. Perhaps the freedom of becoming your own alter-ego at will; perhaps the interchangeability of identity; perhaps the renewal and reinvention of four million 'selves'. The five hundred square miles of Los Angeles are enough to entice anyone to be 'reborn' day after day, and the City offers endless options for those with an inclination for change. In L.A, 'change' and 'self re-invention' just takes a little self-imposed bravery and a walk around the block...or forty bucks.
Oscar Wilde once said that "The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple."
Nothing epitomizes this more than a trek down the infamous Skid Row, the largest concentration of homeless people in the United States. Modern skyscrapers in the distance pose a poignant question. With all of the wealth and power in this country, how is it acceptable for our people to be living in such squalor? If the answer was either pure, or simple, the problem would have been solved years ago. In the meantime, we must rely on journalists to pry, politicians to lobby, and advocate groups to fight for those who are unable to stand their ground.
Skid Row was a place I may have heard of in passing , but never before had I actually been exposed to the history and issues surrounding it. In truth, my venture through downtown Los Angeles gave a firsthand look at just one of the many issues facing society. The television documentaries or newspaper clippings that I had seen and read could only portray so much. Nothing sinks in like a first-hand view of thousands of homeless people sleeping in the streets.
They say a Journalist never stops learning. While all the information on this Earth may be more than one person can discover in a lifetime, I take solace in the fact that Los Angeles offers a great arena for someone to begin this exciting craft. I am immensely looking forward to the next two years and beyond, as I begin to uncover the inner workings of our world.
I spent most of my life living in the suburbs of Los Angeles. As a child, I was surrounded by its diversity and unique culture, but never noticed it. Los Angeles was just a place I lived, yet it never felt like home. It was just another large city. Millions flock to the palm tree, star studded “city of angels,” but I never understood why. After moving to northern California I was bombarded with L.A. cynicism. Many of the students form northern California criticized Los Angeles. To them, the city was a dirty clump of people, smog, traffic, and waste. It wasn’t until I starting evaluating these negative assumptions that I began to appreciate the city. Los Angeles is not just a polluted desert with palm trees. The appeal of a sundry metropolis littered with a vast array of personalities, lifestyles, cultures, and ideologies was exciting. I realized that the millions move to L.A. not just for the weather, but for the culture and the pursuit of dreams. As I reentered this city I became one of those millions; I was finally able to see the unique personality of Los Angeles—the city I now call home.
Big cities are like layer cakes. In Los Angeles, the top layer is composed of people. These individuals, whether native or foreign-born, contribute to L.A.’s eclectic mixture of languages, traditions, and, of course, food, all of which make the city unique and vibrant. The middle layer is L.A.’s system of government and public safety. Though not as exciting as the local culinary delights, Los Angeles clearly needs a mayor and police force (and school board and fire trucks) to keep the city running. But then there are the lesser-known layers of this cake. For some it could be the ostentatious women. For others it may be the cockroaches that invade the streets at night. All the way at the bottom, I have discovered the least delicious portion of my L.A.-layer cake: cantankerous drivers. City driving is no place for the meek.
I'm pretty grateful for what I learned today. I learned that there are physical barriers between residential and commercial structures. This may reflect socioeconomic separation. I never knew why those were there as I drove along the freeway. There is a country club on top of a landfill. L.A. is multicultural and diverse--as well as racially segregated. I learned a little bit about the history of the San Fernando Valley--why certain lands were purchased and why one district is still underdeveloped. Certain districts in the Valley required workers with skills not based on education. These skills are currently not needed. Unemployment rates are deceptive. New employment does not mean better wages, nor does it reduce commuting time or increase quality of life. Immigration is a many layered topic as well. There are reasons for naturalization that are quite compelling. Good notes are good.
From the perspective of a recent East Coast transplant, L.A. is where people come to turn their dreams into reality. Because let’s face it, no one ventures here looking for an easy commute to work or pristine air quality.
Having never known anyone from California or lived in the state myself before, I pictured L.A. in my naiveté to be a city saturated with the aspiring -- actors, screenwriters, directors, etc. Just this week, I’ve met 43 other aspiring journalists like myself!
But what I had not counted on during our group’s trip to the city’s Eastside was meeting lifelong, L.A. inhabitants who were also big dreamers in ways perhaps unforeseeable to those blinded by the region’s reputation for glitz and glamour.
At Homeboy Industries in the district of Boyle Heights, we met Gabriel Hinojos -- a former gang member and prison inmate who now aids at-risk members of his community in finding employment. Under the mentorship of Father Greg Boyle and the staff at Homeboy, Gabriel went from spending 12 years behind bars after a drug and crime-ridden youth to being an assistant supervisor at the site. His smile was particularly broad as he spoke of drinking white wine with First Lady Laura Bush at the White House during a conference on Helping America’s Youth. Keeping his own kids’ future in mind, Gabriel now dreams of helping continue Father Boyle’s work in the community for many years to come.
Practically every available chair at Homeboy when we were there was filled with aspiring “Gabriels;” other hopefuls seeking to meet with the center’s mentors for employment and/or domestic advice.
Homeboy in return offers guidance in the form of jobs at the group’s silkscreen shop, bakery, café and other ventures or by fronting the salary for other employers who sign up their referees. Our tour guide and reformed gang member, Joey Ray, detailed how Homeboy even contracts 9- and 10-year-olds who want work as long as they stay in school with the hope of keeping these kids away from at-risk behavior.
The future also served as an inspiration for the printmakers at Self Help Graphics and Art in Eastside L.A. Today, the gallery and studio continues the work Sister Karen Boccalero started in 1972 by supporting Latino artists. We got to witness as Linda Vallejo worked toward her goal of growing her black-and-white tree designs into blossoming, full-color prints.
So, I learned on my first orientation field trip that I was right to believe that L.A. is a city filled with many dreamers. I just hadn’t counted on discovering that its people’s dreams are as sprawling as the streets here.
Eastside, Hollywood, the Valley… all the places our groups traveled today are just branches of the L.A. County family, and no matter how prominent, each has something to offer as well as to teach its relative.
And hopefully as my preconceived notions about my new home are confronted, I want during my time as a journalist here in the city to get to know them all.
Atop a hill, in the middle of the booming Los Angeles city streets sits an oasis of insurmountable beauty. The air is quiet and calm, and the sound of the breeze dominates over the faint hum of car engines and honking horns. In this refuge, the natural elements that surround Los Angeles are amplified as the skyline, and hilltops collide with architecture to form a sanctuary. Frank Lloyd Wright’s architectural wonder, Hollyhock House, has an indescribable brilliance. The house is able to entrance its inhabitants away from the everyday to a transcendental state of harmony.
Although some of these antiquities are still in tack, Los Angeles is on the verge of loosing a culture that has already been forgotten by many. In a city so infatuated with the new, the old, classic elements of L.A. are often neglected or destroyed. The struggle to maintain these relics in a city where the latest trends dominate the mentality of most is becoming an ever growing battle. Hollyhock House has been a unique piece of the L.A. landscape since 1919 when it was first built, yet it did not receive National Historic Landmark status until May of this year. Although curator Jeffrey Herr has been struggling to bring Hollyhock back to its original beauty, the years lost due to neglect can never be replaced. Much of the surrounding land has been sold, including an olive grove that has now become a Kaiser building obstructing much of Wright’s intended layout.
After exploring L.A.’s overlooked culture it became clear that Los Angeles will loose this unique backdrop unless these traditions are rediscovered and recognized by the community. Now that Hollyhock House has been acknowledged by the city, it will be able to finish reconstruction and will eventually be a cultural landmark of Los Angeles.
L.A. is tightly-packed, leaving little elbow room for anyone to do much of anything. Compared to Utah, where parking spaces are usually big enough to accommodate oversize Ford Excursions and all 14 children riding within, L.A. seems cramped. Sometimes it feels like I can't even turn around without accidentally smacking someone in the face.
While studying sociology, I often read about low-income communities where traditional grocery stores were virtually nonexistent, leaving only convenience stores to serve the shopping needs of the community as a whole. Before today, however, I had never seen the situation firsthand. While walking through some of the convenience/liquor stores located astonishingly close to campus, I saw ridiculously low-quality produce being sold for top dollar, a fact that doubtlessly contributes to the poor nutritional habits of many of L.A.'s residents. One store's "health food" section literally consisted of a handful of second-rate produce and one loaf of wheat bread. On the bright side, however, several members of the community were well-aware of said problems and were committed to making a difference.
...a fractured city. It is both everything and nothing; simultaneously what every other city aspires to be and toils to avoid becoming. Los Angeles has all of the cultural diversity of New York or Paris, yet is scattered and often times unaccessible without some sort of planning and forethought. Nothing happens spontaneously outside of the small urban pockets that harbor the varied and diverse residents of the City of Angels.
The saddest and most disheartening realization I have come to in my six years living out here is that traffic is now officially worse on the weekends than on the weekdays: a phenomenon that defies logic. This vast, sprawling metropolis of 20 million people lay in pieces...the shattered remnants of a modern urban planning experiment gone awry. What was once a bastion of industrialization and a symbol of human interaction via the freedom afforded by the automobile is now bursting at the seams on both highways and surface streets. Whereas the destinations of the working population are varied, those of the recreational variety are more centralized, making certain stretches of freeway virtually impassable (and intolerable) at certain times on a Saturday or Sunday.
For many bright-eyed transplants, Los Angeles represents their own personal Manifest Destiny. It is the inevitable personification of their hopes and dreams, complete with sunshine in January and the bottled up optimism of someone who has just beaten cancer. But once the initial, glitzy allure fades, one is left searching for the slightly less obvious cultural elements any conscientious city-dweller yearns for. Though they are easy to track down, they are consistently and frustratingly out of reach.
I have never been to the San Pedro fish market, the Long Beach aquarium, or the original Getty House. I have only been to the Norton Simon, the new Getty, the Hammer, LACMA, and the downtown MOCA once each. Manhattan, Redondo, and Hermosa are all within reach distance-wise, but oh-so-far-away when piloting a car.
Perhaps my anti-traffic angst has transformed into a lazy, self-fulfilling prophecy at this point. I'm sure many in LA fall victim to the same trap. This is ultimately why I look forward to a career in journalism with the utmost and sincerest eagerness. I am excited at the prospect of exploring this city during the week and as my primary, wage-earning responsibility. I hope - among many other things - that it will unlock all I think I have been missing in LA, plus so much more.
Los Angeles is: eager. It is restless and anxious, bursting with creative energy in a culturally diverse environment. It is hurly-burly and encourages unique personalities. Los Angeles is steeped in history and pushing towards the future. It is embedded with stereotype and I am excited to see how true certain rumors ring. It is far from home, in more ways than one. It is unlike any other city I've ever been to, let alone lived in. To me it is new. It is opportunity. It is a place I can't imagine ever getting bored with.
- Jaclyn Emerick
My life has always been very far removed from Los Angeles. It was never a place I imagined myself going, let alone living. All of my visions of LA floated like a disconnected dream - a pleasant one but not something to be missed when it was over. Words, phrases and broken thoughts passed through my mind on the advice of friends who came and saw god or returned home with the bitter taste of a harsh world on the tips of their tongues. I apologized and gloated in equally taken breaths.
My first impressions of life in LA were of starts and endings - sunburned and hopeful faces among those for whom Hollywood is just a word that means home. Blue skies obscured by pollution that blocks my view of the mountains yet powers the engine behind the world 'go'. LA is a microcosm of selves. New selves and old selves. Chinese men learn to dance while sad mothers struggle to see a life beyond the street corner and children collect bottles in the park. LA is everything to everyone creating an uncomfortable blank line behind the question of 'is the world what you make it?'.
As I peaked out of the van window today I saw something amazing--the place I call home. You'd think that after 10 years of living in Los Angeles I would feel as though I already know what to expect from this city of dreamers, but what the new discoveries I saw today in the Hollywood Hills and surrounding areas made me fall in love with the city I call home.
Driving up to the Hollyhock House, I watched the city in movement. I watched as billboard signs and store signs changed from language to language as well as the people of Los Angeles. When I saw the House my first instinct told me that it was odd for such a house to sit in the middle of this breathing city. In fact, this Hollyhock House designed by Frank Lloyd Wright did not look like a house at all to my eyes.
But just as the dreamers of Los Angeles call this vast city their home, I tried to imagine Hollyhock as the home that highlighted Wright's craft as an architect. With each detail, each representation of the abstract Hollyhock flower and artistic traits embedded within each corner, Wright turned this House into a lasting masterpiece. In fact, Wright was an artist, a storyteller, all of which is portrayed in this home. Hollyhock House is eccentric, but it like any other home equipped with its garage (carriage house), dog house (animal pens), a kitchen (conveniently located next to the servant's entryway), and a living room (complete with a fireplace and pond).
Hollyhock serves as a hidden gem of the city, one which defines Los Angeles as a home of home's such as this one--a home, a city, that I have yet to discover.
Today I felt like a true tourist as I held my digital camera in front of me, focusing in on the iconic Hollywood sign hoisted up in the famous Hills. Having officially resided on the corners of Olympic and Fairfax for only four nights has left me eager with anxiety to explore the seemingly endless city that I currently feel lost in.
The trip to the Hollyhock House gave me the opportunity to gawk at the lanky palm trees and desert terrain exploding from the Hills. The monotonous lines of the midwest cornstalks can't compare to this. As we toured the house, I paid particular attention Frank Lloyd Wright's manipulation of space. I was fascinated by his ability to turn nature into architecture and vice versa. I see how important the landscape was to him as he used it precisely to frame his structures, structures that were constructed to blend seamlessly from man-made to natural. I've never before been exposed to a structure with such a relationship with nature.
Wright's attention to detail is intense as he has put all his effort into manipulating the space all around us to guide our direction. Because of that, as we moved through the house, I couldn't help but note how the space changed. The tour through the Hollyhock house really was more of a journey, a narrative. I just wish that more of it would have been renovated. It would be interesting to go back once the intended renovations take place. I appreciated the tour because in all honesty, it is a place that I probably would not have gotten to on my own.
-Jaclyn Emerick
Driving into the city I knew I would never be the same. Spending any significant amount of time in a city so drastic, daring, and in-your-face could only seep into the very fibers of my being and change me for good. As I closed the distance between my new apartment and my old life in Atlanta (all the while managing to keep a constant speed of 30 mph on the freeway as angry road-ragers whizzed passed me, fingers held high), I felt Los Angeles sucker-punch me. No, really. I swear it did. In a matter of seconds, I felt my lungs lose their air, and the only thing I was left with were my memories of home. This would be my new home. Los Angeles.
In my next two weeks as a citizen of this strange land, visions of contradictions (not to be confused with sugar plums) danced in my head. With every turn of a corner came a new land. Who needs to travel? I thought. Just come to L.A., where you can eat at a Thai restaurant down the street from Korea(town), which is just a few miles from Central America--or so it seems. Los Angeles, to me, represents some of the ultimate conundrums of human existence--almost like the way a person can feel lonely in a crowded room. The rich drive their top-of-the-line sports cars past bums on the street who haven't eaten in days. Ironically, Hollywood is paved with broken dreams, yet everyone in this town wants to be a star. They never learn. And maybe they shouldn't. All of these hopes and dreams give Los Angeles its charm.
In all honesty, I don't know if I will ever look at L.A. as "my" city. But, does anyone? With the come-and-go, hustle-bustle of it all, the underlying theme seems to be "Don't stay for long. Don't get too comfortable. Move along." And along I go, finding my step with the pulsing crowds to a destiny unknown.
- Amanda Rossie
Skid Row is not just a band. Actually, it's so much more than that.
To be hungry, and tired, and struggling, and dirty, and shameful, and despised, and treated like a commodity rather than a human being. Today, for those estimated 12,000 homeless people living on Skid Row in downtown Los Angeles, life feels like this.
With little hope in the government, which seems to oppress rather than enhance, the homeless population of Los Angeles lives from day-to-day. When lucky enough to qualify for General Relief (GR), which is the lowest form of welfare available, one must make the choice: food or shelter? Clothes? No, not this month. The GR only gives its recipients $221/month, a meager sum that barely covers a full month's stay in one of the run-down Single Room Occupancy (SRO) hotels located in the area. In slum-like conditions, those fortunate enough to get a room in an SRO cohabitate with rats and roaches while wading through raw sewage backup, debris from ceilings that have caved in long ago, and mold expansive enough to breed penicillin. To most, these living conditions alone would cause heartbreat; but, for Los Angeles' homeless, this is not the end of their rope.
The LAPD, sent out to enforce a new gentrification plan to revive and restore Skid Row, pose as potential crack buyers and confront their potential client. After an offer to buy half of a crack rock for $5, and with the compliance of the Skid Row resident, the undercover cop places the homeless suspect under arrest. Taken into the station and booked with a sale charge (a felony) rather than a possession charge (a misdemeanor), the city's plan to get the homeless off the street is working out as desired. And, sadly, it doesn't end there. Jaywalkers, litterers, and cigarrette flickers all over Skid Row are being charged with felonies, all part of Los Angeles County's proposal to restore order to a place full of addiction, mental instability, and helplessness. If you thought Hollywood was the place of broken dreams, you should walk Skid Row.
Who knew so much hurt could exist in just 50 square blocks? I didn't--until today.
-Amanda Rossie
Los Angeles is...
...a set of idiosyncrasies and sometimes charming characteristics that lend themselves, like any other city, to enthusiastic metaphors.
It is a city of corners (and we shall not cut them! chuckle.) facing each other across long divides that have felt neither cobblestones nor the feet of Romans but have experienced the steady stream and plodding determination of traffic.
On a given day, such corners could easily find a pupusa vendor standing shoulder to shoulder with Candice Bergen, an overdressed Chihuahua, and a Finnish doctor.
There are those who call Los Angeles a soulless vacuum and a cultural wasteland. They deem it an apologist for the laid back and lazy. After all, I could think of no other city where driving everywhere and wearing flip flops are not only optional but de rigueur. But L.A. encourages neither lethargy nor a foaming at the mouth. Its very size and disposition force only the most committed, interested, willing, and curious to look for, find, and gain access to, "culture" (of the finest, I assure you) because it does not tolerate the giving of gifts on silver platters. It operates on a strict and unforgiving "it's yours for the taking, but I 'ain't giving" policy. And there's nothing wrong with that.
It is a city of pockets. But the pockets belong to the overcoat of a well-fed and often cantankerous giant. But if you ask me, I'd rather be a cursed ugly, ill-humored, grimy-faced troll of a giant living by the sea than the loveliest of pixies landlocked without hope.
C'mon, let's be honest. You know you're in L.A. when it's the guy who orders a salad on the first date.
-Debbie
While my "initial impression of LA" post was laced with the pessimism of someone who has been trapped behind a desk in corporate America - shackled to his car at all the wrong times and staring enviously out the window at anyone breathing un-conditioned air - today gave me hope.
Why?
Because in a mere 6 hours, I saw a side of Los Angeles that I have not seen in the previous 6 years. The usual gloomy statistics that accompany a