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" I&amp;#x27;m losing it. One sun-drenched, bloody-mary-fueled day in LA and I&amp;#x27;m obsessing over moving back. I mean, it&amp;#x27;s not really going to happen. Ignore me. Just dealing with a few, severe pangs of &amp;quot;Can someone pulllllllease remind me why I left this place?!&amp;quot; I&amp;#x27;m a huge &amp;quot;grass is always greener&amp;quot; girl. It&amp;#x27;s a problem. The grass isn&amp;#x27;t just greener, it&amp;#x27;s like, bright torquoise, or, florescent chartreuse. Uch, such an extremist. I really have to remind myself that not every day is pool-side at Chateau Marmount with Shelley, Lisette and Jerry Stiller (aka George&amp;#x27;s dad on Seinfeld, and Ben Stiller&amp;#x27;s dad in real life). Speaking of Stiller, he has my heart forever. He reminded me of my Dad&amp;#x27;s dad, who everyone adored, but isn&amp;#x27;t here anymore. A charming, sharp, quick, wonderful wise-ass. He was so excited to take pictures with us that he asked me to print this one out at Kinkos and leave him a copy at his hotel. As his wicked funny wife, Ann Meara, said, &amp;quot;When you&amp;#x27;re old, you turn mean OR cute. Jerry got cute.&amp;quot; I&amp;#x27;m also smirking because for the first time in a while I felt really connected to the blog yesterday. About time!!! EET and I had so much fun writing it. And his devilish charm actually raised some eyebrows with the powers that be at Conde Nast. I&amp;#x27;d love to see him start something of his own!! Fingers crossed. As for my sometimes-blah blog, complete with my bedraggled-chic picture (as B once called it), I just want things to be light-hearted, relatable and real. I&amp;#x27;ll never take myself, or the blog, too seriously. It&amp;#x27;s just not how I&amp;#x27;m made. &amp;quot;Alyssacentric&amp;quot; needs some fine-tuning....but let&amp;#x27;s not shiver over it. All I care about is maintaining a sense of friendship and familiarity and meaning, without anyone getting hurt. The rest is noise. Back to my biscostal thoughts. I&amp;#x27;m probably going to sound delusional from too much Vitamin D, but California and New York bring out two completely different Alyssas. Just let me be totally, um, self indulgent (??) for a second. In New York, I&amp;#x27;m serious, grounded, precocious, tenacious, etc.... In LA, I&amp;#x27;m fearless, kooky, energized, bright-eyed, unpredictable...well you know, you were there :) It&amp;#x27;s like this insane duality that exists inside my head, and I really don&amp;#x27;t know what to do about it. Other than, obviously, extend my trip :) I have beautiful things going on in NYC (the friends, family, apartment and, wink, him). I&amp;#x27;m not seriously thinking about bouncing. But there&amp;#x27;s something about the West Coast that feels so authentically me. Then again, is that who I really am, or just who I want to be? It&amp;#x27;s one of those existential questions that everyone asks themselves to no avail (usually over several drinks, or a Drew Barrymore movie), but when does the whole identity crisis end? Is it an eternal part of life? Is Jerry Stiller still asking himself &amp;quot;Who am I?&amp;quot; We&amp;#x27;ll never wake up with all the answers, but at what age do we stop wondering who we are, where we belong and what in the world to do with our lives??? Click here to vote"^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.glamour.com/sex-love-life/blogs/man-needs-date/2007/03/and-the-beat-goes-on>