Venice, LA

The idea of living in Venice, LA, is becoming more and more attractive to me. Obviously, it’s another pipe dream like working in Hong Kong or being able to exist on a diet of mozzarella and deli meats and simultaneously have the body of any of the pricks on Love Island. It’s the perfect place for me to exist in my desired style of Hawaiian shirts and tan pants in a socially and environmentally acceptable setting. Northern England is a bit of a stickler for lack of sunshine. Plus, there’s always more choice on Netflix in the US.

Grass is always greener somewhere else and I’m sure I’ll still end up doing the same things that make the patch of turf appear greyish. Perhaps that’s similar for other people who have chosen to move to be ‘happier’ but end up the same. No matter where you go you’ll always be somewhat greyish not because of the place or its faults but your own. I for one could be in that California sun still playing Stellaris on my laptop for literal days on end, existing on noodles and take-out. Change of scenery never makes a person happier, a change of self does the trick.

Fuck that, right? I could have as much money as Bill Gates and still be sat on a yacht in an Ibiza bay playing Stellaris by myself being served the fucking noodles. Which is my right, being a product of years of personal development from being that toddler who ate everything to now. It’s everyone’s right to choose to do what they want to do all day every day. A life coach is just a superficial title for someone who’s judgemental and wants to change the world to their image. I’m not saying to those people who are life coaches that they should quit their jobs and learn to accept people for who they are because like I say, it’s your right to do whatever the hell you want to do. I couldn’t do it; most of the time I’d probably be rolling my eyes at the client for the nonsense being thrown at me, and the expectation that I have the secret knowledge to remedy it all.

Knowing full well that moving to Venice, LA, will perhaps not improve my state of mind or ability to eat as much deli meat as I want to, I still want to do it. Unfortunately, being strapped for cash as well as having my grandfather’s disapproving voice in my head has killed many a dream. Yet here I am, at the conclusion that it doesn’t matter who you are or where you are, the grass will always be greener in your own head but fuck it, it doesn’t hurt to see anyway. It’s time for us all to listen to that Nike advert for once and ‘just do it’, but just don’t expect the different sky to give us a totally different outlook.

Venice, LA

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