Where I'm From
I've always been proud of the fact that I'm from Ohio. I feel like it grounds me. I like being from the Midwest. Aside from the amazing inability to really process anything, the Midwest -- and specifically Ohio -- has given me a lot.
I'm also strangely protective of Ohio. I will mock my native state to death, but if someone else does it -- someone else who has never even set foot there -- then I take it personally. I'm allowed to make fun of Ohio because I love Ohio and all the shit it's put me through. Far more good than bad came from spending my first 24 years there.
It also became something of a calling card for me. Just as I had become "Kyle in Los Angeles" to so many people back east, in Los Angeles I was the guy from Ohio, or at least the sadist who cheers for all the Cleveland sports teams. For every time I might have been insulted because I was from the Midwest, there were at least three times that I felt really sure of myself because of it.
So here's the strange thing: I'm no longer Kyle from Ohio. I've suddenly become the guy from Los Angeles.
It's weird just typing that.
Now, to a certain extent I'm happy to be the guy from Los Angeles, usually if it's within the context of the fact that I now live in the suburbs. I'm at least a little happy to have a distinction made that this is not my normal environment, so perhaps I should be forgiven for my lack of suburban etiquette.
At the same time, it's somewhat unflattering, because people from Los Angeles are...well, I'm sure you know. I realize that Los Angeles doesn't seem to have the hive mentality that people in New York or Chicago have, they don't have a shared identity because of their geographic location. But it is there, at least a little. And after nine years in that city, I know it's rubbed off on me.
At a certain point, I will no doubt stop putting "the" in front of the highway numbers. I suppose that will be the first indication that I've assimilated. Buying a mini-van will probably be the second.
Anyway, it's just strange to me, that I'm now associated with Los Angeles. I suppose it one final way for that city to hang on to me, like an STD you discover a week after a short, torrid affair.
Now back to my Jack Daniels and writing, two of my constants, no matter where I call home.
I'm also strangely protective of Ohio. I will mock my native state to death, but if someone else does it -- someone else who has never even set foot there -- then I take it personally. I'm allowed to make fun of Ohio because I love Ohio and all the shit it's put me through. Far more good than bad came from spending my first 24 years there.
It also became something of a calling card for me. Just as I had become "Kyle in Los Angeles" to so many people back east, in Los Angeles I was the guy from Ohio, or at least the sadist who cheers for all the Cleveland sports teams. For every time I might have been insulted because I was from the Midwest, there were at least three times that I felt really sure of myself because of it.
So here's the strange thing: I'm no longer Kyle from Ohio. I've suddenly become the guy from Los Angeles.
It's weird just typing that.
Now, to a certain extent I'm happy to be the guy from Los Angeles, usually if it's within the context of the fact that I now live in the suburbs. I'm at least a little happy to have a distinction made that this is not my normal environment, so perhaps I should be forgiven for my lack of suburban etiquette.
At the same time, it's somewhat unflattering, because people from Los Angeles are...well, I'm sure you know. I realize that Los Angeles doesn't seem to have the hive mentality that people in New York or Chicago have, they don't have a shared identity because of their geographic location. But it is there, at least a little. And after nine years in that city, I know it's rubbed off on me.
At a certain point, I will no doubt stop putting "the" in front of the highway numbers. I suppose that will be the first indication that I've assimilated. Buying a mini-van will probably be the second.
Anyway, it's just strange to me, that I'm now associated with Los Angeles. I suppose it one final way for that city to hang on to me, like an STD you discover a week after a short, torrid affair.
Now back to my Jack Daniels and writing, two of my constants, no matter where I call home.
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