Citygirl's Articles!

I LEFT SANTA MONICA FOR FLORIDA
Was it the wrong move?

When the calendar turned in 2022 post-Covid, I had had enough. I was living in a tiny studio in Santa Monica at the corner of Montana and Ocean Avenue, and for a long time, it was blissful. It wasn’t without its problems, but during Covid, it got much, much worse.

My top floor unit faced the alley and I was sick of the shenanigans that had gone down in that alley over the years; the homelessness, the people sleeping, sh*tting, urinating beneath my windows, and the garbage bins going up in flames. Luckily I was on the top floor; the “penthouse,” I used to think, but it became an awful way to live and the apartments were so poorly made; you could hear every sound, every sneeze, and the mold and the other crap that lay there before me was simply painted over – over and over again, and over again... Read more

How My Life Went off the Rails Trading $AAPL Options

"For those two minutes, I was in profit... I was King of the world..."

"Any day can be the luckiest day of your life and you won't know it until you start gambling.“

"GAMBLING IS NOT ABOUT MONEY; IT IS ABOUT THE THRILL OF THE RISK.”

I had a good feeling about Apple calls and Monday morning, August 24, 2020, I bought in. I broke all of my trading rules: 1. Never buy a stock at its high. 2. Never buy at the open. 3. Don’t trade in August or until the market has a clear direction 4. Set a stop loss. 5. Never go all in; average in.

But I buy August 28 AAPL 530 calls right at the open that expire Friday. I go all in and get printed at the high of 8.71. I had studied Apple and it was about to break out over 500 and the split is coming and all the data, charts, fundamentals show that the stock is going to run.

What could possibly go wrong? Read more...

I gave up my LA dreams for retirement, was it worth it?

It’s pre-Covid, I haven’t even arrived to work yet, but I’m ready to blow a gasket.

I pull out of my parking space in luxurious Santa Monica and there’s the guy with the leaf blower – you know the one, the barbaric guy with that loud gas machine strapped to his back blowing leaves from one side to another?

I never understood that.

What is he accomplishing? He’s taking leaves and moving them from one area to another while polluting the air.

Get a rake, you lazy F, and properly put them in a bag and discard them!

This is only the beginning of the stupidity that I endure throughout the day.

First, there's my commute. I’ve lived in LA for eighteen years trying to make it as a writer to no avail, and I’ve been lucky enough to survive outside sales job after outside sales job to not have to race into an office by 9 a.m... Read more...

The GOOD AND THE BAD OF LIVING WITH A GERMAN SHEPHERD

An excerpt from MEG & I; A Love Story.

How Rescuing A German Shepherd Healed My Broken Heart

The end of July rolls along and Meg and I are in a nice routine. On the weekends, we visit various new places along the Connecticut shoreline; beaches we haven’t been to, new parks, and the beautiful Mercy by the Sea in Madison, Ct. which is a retreat center. I love to watch Meg as she runs in the waves and does the doggie paddle, and she’s in her glory.

Nothing gives me more happiness than to watch this dog that I rescued, this German Shepherd beast, enjoy her good life. I finally understand what my father means when he always says to me, “I just want you to be happy.”

One Sunday night, after a nice quiet walk in our neighborhood, we get home and I make rice and spinach. I cook it all up and wait to sprinkle cayenne pepper all over it until the rice is cooked and I serve Meg hers on her plate. German Shepherds can’t handle the spices, so now I’m always cooking with her in mind... Read more...

THE PROBLEMS WITH SILENT RETREATS, THEY ARE SILENT.

I BROUGHT MY GERMAN SHEPHERD SERVICE DOG TO A TWO WEEK SILENT RETREAT, WAS IT THE WRONG MOVE?

An excerpt from MEG & I; How Rescuing A German Shepherd Healed My Broken Heart

I was happily never married, middle aged, and gave up my failed eighteen year Los Angeles writing stint and rent controlled apartment after Covid, only to move to three different states, and be riddled with the grave task of finding affordable housing.

I have a Master’s degree, once had a successful career on Wall Street, and now I’m technically homeless.

I also had to file for disability for my arthritic fingers; the perfect payoff for a failed writing career, and I just rescued a German Shepherd.

To find solace and quell my broken heart, I duck into a two week silent retreat in the middle of Massachusetts with the dog.

What could possibly go wrong?

It's springtime and we have a nice drive up to Massachusetts. My service dog, Meg, sits upright beside me and loves staring out the window and critiquing my driving. "Careful, mom, careful! You’re swerving, you’re swerving!”

She makes me laugh...

I am looking forward to this retreat and I’m convinced that I will come out a different person, or perhaps the world will be different when I get out, or it will be better or I will find some sort of answers as to why?

I’m glad not to have to stare into an iPad looking for housing. I’m also glad not to have to look at the stock market and watch it run to higher highs, as I am technically short and lost a ton of money. And I’m glad not to check my emails to see the lack of response from Hollywood on my screenplay.

No, I’m happy to leave it all behind.

I’ve had it.

I’m burned out.

I need a reset.

And this two week retreat will be that reset... Read more...

* * *

And then there was how I met Meg...

Chapter Three from MEG & I; A LOVE STORY, HOW RESCUING A GERMAN SHEPHERD HEALED MY BROKEN HEART

I slowly merge off the highway and head down a long, narrow road that leads straight into the woods.

The trees go far up into the air, and yet the sun still shines through. I take this as a good sign and keep driving.

Why doesn’t the GPS ever get the arrival time correct?

This trip should have taken under two hours, but now it’s almost three hours and this rescue place is no where in sight.

I grow more and more uneasy the further and further I drive out.

When I researched the address over the internet, all I saw was a trailer and a tiny house that had a fence in the shape of a large circle, and inside of it, were eight dogs.

It looked weird. Yet again, I’m in South Carolina. So what doesn’t look weird? I’m not in Manhattan or LA anymore, I remind myself. Loathing the thought.

I keep driving. Read more...