I ponder how different I feel here in Topanga, from how I felt when I moved to Inglewood last year. There, I loved the home, it truly was a House of Healing. And I loved the short commute. But I didn’t feel any affinity for the neighbourhood or its inhabitants. They were very nice, but just … not my peeps.
While I am no longer the feral hippie of my teens and twenties, raising babies without water and power in hand built shacks, I still resonate with the counter-cultural vibe of Topanga. You can take the girl out of the commune, but you can’t take the hippie out of the girl, I guess. It just feels good here. Which is why I am quietly freaking out about going back to West Hills while J is out of town.