Frontier Justice

This story caught my eye today, and really made me think. A judge legally taking sports away from a star athlete (and teenager) is quite an act, really -- one which seems unprecedented to me.

My first reaction was that it was over-the-line, not because the crime he committed wasn't bad enough -- it was -- but because sports is usually viewed as a positive in the lives of young men (especially ones who grow up in ghettoes). With his crime, the kid had already lost his chances for scholarships with countless colleges. Taking this away seemed to me to be counter-intuitive: Why take away the one thing which could allow this young man to truly improve his circumstances?

But then, upon re-examination, I relized the genius behind the decision. See, athletes are forgiven for all manners of transgressions, from tiny to immense -- all because they are athletes. So, while taking away this young man's greatest lifeline may deprove him of untold money, fame, and opportunity, this also takes away his get-out-of-jail-free card. It very well may be the one thing which forces this guy to actually become a better person.

Think about it: Michael Vick is back making millions after a jail sentence. His crimes may make millions hate him, but it won't stop him from making lots of money or recieving the love and adoration of millions more. Does he ever really have to become a better person, or just act like he has. This decision, however, will force the young man to learn to survive in society without the crutch of sports to aid him. Any future transgressions will not be forgiven so easily. Then again, if he falls into a life of crime or squalor, folks will say this judge robbed him of his chance at escape by taking away the one thing at which he could excel.

All things considered, I like this decision, but I would also allow for a review of the terms after a year or two -- if he's managed to get a job, or enroll in school, and has done well for himself, I would be open to allowing back into sports. Otherwise -- if he improves, but isn't allowed to play sports until he's 24 -- one could argue his potential career will be lost over one incident, with no regard given to how he's rehabilitated himself.

Either way, this makes for a fascinating test-case, a social experiment with a real life in the balance. I suppose the hypothesis behind it would be to discover whether the world may lose a great athlete to gain a good person. That's a pretty fair trade, if you ask me.

Not About Baseball

Sometimes, especially on days like these, I wonder why I'm a sports fan. Last night, I knew better than to watch my baseball team, the Pathetic Fucking Bastards Giants, play the Rockies. Or so I thought.

After a surprisingly feel-good 2009 for the first 4 months or so, the Giants have been getting on my nerves. First, their inability to put togther offense of any kind has worn on me throughout the year -- there are only so many times you can see your favorite pitchers leave it all on the mound while dominating their opponent only to settle for a no decision (or worse, a loss) before it starts to eat away at your soul. After this season, my soul is in worse shape than Michael Jackson's nose. (Too soon?) Secondly, this crucial flaw, which should have cost them their ability to compete for a playoff spot weeks, or even months ago, is only now coming home to roost in new and annoyingly inventive ways -- heading into the weekend in Colorado, they'd gone from leading the wild card chase for most of the year to trailing the red-hot Rockies.

Lastly, after taking the first game in Colorado, they laid a gigantic egg turd at the on-going nightmare that is Coors Field, losing the next two, and endangering themselves of falling out of the race with a loss on Monday to drop 3 of 4 and end up 4 games back of the streaking Rockies. What's more: They had Zito on the mound. And while Zito's been much better lately -- let's face it, as tough as it is for me to say, he's been downright good -- I didn't want to see him pitch with the season on the line.

So I didn't tape the game as I normally do. I didn't intend to watch it. But when I got home and my wife was taking a shower, I didn't think it would hurt to check in on the game. I was wrong.

The Giants were tied, 1-1, so I watched a bit. Soon, after watching their wretched excuse for an offense flail wildly at pitches everywhere but in the strike zone, I gave up on the game -- and the team. Even their best hitter, the Kung Fu Panda himself, Pablo Sandoval, was hurt and out of the game, so no reason to watch. I did, however, keep tabs on the score as I watched shows with my wife all night. 1-1 in the 6th inning turned into 1-1 in the 9th, then 12th, and finally 14th.

And then it happened. The Giants scored. Not once, or twice, but three freaking times! Suddenly, they had a chance. And, much more dangerously, had hope. Now SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION taught me that hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, but I'm certain Stephen King never watched the Giants play (he is a Red Sox fan, after all). For Giants fans, hope is a four-letter word. Well, obviously, hope is a four-letter word for everybody, but it's the bad kind for Giants fans. We learned this in 1987 and '89. And '93 and '97. And again in 2000. And '02. And '03. And '04. Maybe in the 5 preceding years we forgot, but the bottom of the 14th provided an indelible reminder. Watching the Giants "relievers" walk 3 Rockies -- including the pitcher (with the bases loaded!) -- before giving up a back-breaking, soul-crushing walk-off grand slam, was like God whispering "Gotcha!" in our collective ear.

It was apinful loss, on a road trip full of them, for a franchise well-versed in them. But it was a little more even than that. It was a reminder that even the most surprising, joyous, and innocent hopes can be turned into something embarrassing and ugly. And while, I don't like to admit it, I feel like this love/hateafraid to love relationship I have with the Giants has spilled over into other aspects of my life. I have the same distrust about potentially positive developments, and the same general feeling of unease and impending doom in aspects of my personal life. My writing in particular. I have the same "Why can't I quit this?" reaction to every setback. The same "Why does God hate me so much he must tease me like this?" defeatism. The same "Trying is pointless" pessimism.

I can't say for sure the Giants did this to me. Maybe I was already this way. Maybe I'm so fucked up I unconsciously looked for a team which seemed cursed to fit the feeling I had for myself. But it's hard to believe that when taken in chronological context -- the Giants weren't really cursed when I started watching them. I'd beenb a fan for two years before the first cursed-like event happened (Candy Maldonado, a good right-fielder, losing Tony Pena's flyball in the lights for a triple, and then making a weak throw which allowed him to score the only run in a 1-0 debacle in St. Louis is the '87 playoffs). And it's really only been in the last 16 years -- at least 7 years into my fandom -- when the real karmic shit hit the fan: 103 wins falling short in '93 (the year before the wild card was instituted), two walk-off one-run losses in the '97 playoffs, Benny Agbayani's walk-ff HR in the 2000 playoffs, the big blown lead in the '02 world series, Jose Cruz's dropped fly in '03, Steve Finley's division-clinching walk-off grand slam in '04.

There's really no way I could've know what I was in for. That means fate chose me. Maybe that's why I seem to align myself with the disappointed, the disillusioned, the disenfranchised. Or at least why I think I do. But whether it's actually the case or not is moot. You are you you think you are. And, more and more, I think I'm a near-miss, a could've been, a contender who always falls short, someone who never seems to get (or make) the big break when they need it. Maybe it's my destiny, maybe it's just the shackles I've applied to myself. Maybe I watch way too much fucking sports, and it's poisoned my brain with well-worn cliches about winners and losers, and curses, and teams of destiny.

But the thing is, life really is just like baseball -- just when you're bitching and moaning about the latest loss, injury, or disappointment, there's another opportunity on the horizon. A new game, a new day, a new chance to do something which makes you (and everyone else) forget the skeletons in your closet. This season's not over, it just feels that way. There's always tomorrow -- a new chance to prove all those diappointments were just the appetizer for an epic meal of accomplishment, or another chance to fail in new and appalling ways. Probably the latter.

A Blog Post

Obviously, I haven't posted in while. I'm not sure exactly why. I guess I'm struggling to find things I feel need writing. Don't confuse that with having nothing to say. I actually have a lot to say -- it just all usually ends up being written in a script, or being told to my wife and/or friends, or lost to the revages of time because I don't feel it's important enough to write.

I think that might be the real problem actually -- the idea that something should be important if you're going to take the time out of your busy schedule to write something down. Especially if you highly doubt anyone will actually read it anyway. It shouldn't be that way. I want to write just for the sake of writing -- that's why I started this blog in the first place. But I've never been a journal type of guy -- I've never had a diary, or jotted down my feelings on legal pads at difficult times in my life.

I'm a writer, sure, it's become ingrained in my DNA. But the desire to entertain or inform is so great, I can't bring myself to write just because. I'll pour my feelings of frustration into a story. Hell, I even used to write a poem here and there back in touchy-feely college days, though I feel distinct embarrassment at revealing that. I've written about baseball for this blog, about football for this one (which I plan to return to here in a couple of weeks for the beginning of the NFL season), and reviewed movies and TV shows for this here blog, but I don't write just for writing's sake.

That was the intent when I began this -- to write whatever popped into my head. But my internal editor seems incapable of allowing that. There must be a reason, a goal. First, I found myself drifting into more and more entertainment reviews -- so I could be that site you went to in order to find out if that show/movie was worth checking out from someone (sort of) inside the entertainment industry. Then it was more sports -- I could be that blog you went to in order to read a snarky take on the sports world (god knows there aren't enough blogs doing that!). But soon it became apparent to me that my writing was totally uninspired and redundant to so many things already available on the web. I wanted to quit, but that seemed even more cliche than what I was already doing.

The only obvious choice is to write about something nobody else writes about -- namely myself. And while lots of other bloggers write about their lives, none actually write about mine, so it would be unique. Well, unique-ish. But I just don't find my life to be all that interesting. Maybe nobody really does. But a hell of a lot of people spend a lot of time on their blogs pretending they do. I just can't bring myself to write something I doubt anyone finds entertaining. Sure, nobody's probably reading anyway, so who could be bored? But that's not the point. The point is, I've been trained through screenwriting to believe writing should entertain. Boring = death. So if my life is boring, it's the last thing I should write about.

Another factor is timing. If I had started the blog when I was taking lots of meetings around town pitching scripts it could've been good -- the world of pitching movie ideas in Hollywood from the inside. Sure, I couldn't have revealed too many juicy details without risking my livelihood, but it could've been good. The same could be said if I started the blog right after my writing partner and I sold our pitch, THE DISCIPLES OF DARRYL to Intrepid Pictures and began the development process. I've written about it a bit here, and again the caveat regarding my career security woul've still applied, but keeping a running diary of my experiences would've been interesting. Instead, I started the blog right as screenwriting -- or at least the business of screenwriting -- began to take a back seat in my life.

But now I'm writing a new screenplay -- one I'm exceptionally excited about -- and writing as much as I have in a long time. The ideas are flowing, and while 99% of the best stuff will probably find it's way into my script, I feel like they're might even be enough to carry over to here. Of course, I'll have to wedge it in between the screenwriting, the football writing, the (almost) full-time job, and the time spent with my wife, but maybe there's a small crack in there I can exploit. No promises, but I want to continue writing here -- even if it's navel-gazing minutia like, Oh I don't know, this post right here as a matter of fact. I don't know why I feel the need to make this declaration. I doubt anyone's reading, so maybe I'm just making it to myself. I just think this forum is too valuable, too open, too flexible, too much fun (potentially) to waste.

I'd liek to write reviews of things I've seen recently -- FUNNY PEOPLE (they weren't), BRUNO, PUBLIC ENEMIES, reality TV, something -- but when I do that, I feel like it has to be, you know, actually good. When I write about whatever stupid thing I'm thinking/doing, it can be crap -- like this -- and still not be a failure. It's sort of like that first lesson every writer has to learn: If there's something on the page, then it's not a failure. Making it good? That's the second step.

Working for a Living

I know I promised a review of 'The Shield's' final season this week, but it'll have to wait, as other responsibilities have intervened. My writing always takes priority, so that's no surprise. And there's my columns on Niners Nation. And my wife. But this week, suddenly, I also find myself working a real job. That's right-- me, in an office, sitting behind a desk, working a phone and computer and goofing off on the internet like a real, live office monkey. And in this case, I think a monkey really could do it.

I'm calling stores all over the country which sell CD's to see how many copies they have in stock of James Taylor's new album, 'Covers'. In the last two days alone, I called every Circuit City in the US. Every single one. At each, speaking with someone to ask that they find out not only if they have the album, but exactly how many copies. I'm sure you can imagine just how excited they are to go and fetch that information right up for me. At the end of the day, I had to switch to Wall Mart, and going alphabetically

The thing you don't realize -- at least, not after about 10 years between office gigs -- is that it still takes a lot out of you. The getting up early, all the coffee you have to guzzle to get you up and running, the commute, the having to deal with people with all its having to be polite banality. By the time you drive home, you just want to pour and drink, tune out for some TV and crash. It's tough, and it keeps me from things which I'd rather do, but I can't afford to turn down a paycheck. Besides, it's only five days with a weekend in between. Although it almost wasn't -- because the project was running behind, I was asked to come in Saturday and Sunday. I got out of it, but for a minute there it felt like this:



Writing is hard after a day like that is no picnic, but I was able to do it last night working on the script with Barry a bit by Skype.* But tonight I need to chill, and this weekend will be devoted to more screenwriting, and whole mess of football. This Saturday is the best day in the college football season in my mind. Partly because New Year's Day is not what it was -- all the best bowl games spread across the next few days -- and partly because of the advent of the Conference Championship Game, Here's my take on the big games:

SEC CHAMPIONSHIP: ALABAMA vs. FLORIDA

Florida is the best team here, but I'm not sure Saban isn't the best coach in the game. This rematch of the original SEC Championship Game (in 1992, when the teams were coached by Gene Stallings and Steve Spurrier) has all the makings of an all-time classic. The winner makes the National Championship Game, and I think when the stakes are that high, you go with the best player on the field -- especially when he plays QB/RB/Head Cheerleader. That man is Tebow. The pick is Florida.

BIG 12 CHAMPIONSHIP: OKLAHOMA vs. MISSOURI

Even though they don't deserve to even be here due to their loss to Texas, I think OU is the best team in the land right now. But this game has had its fair share of big upsets, mostly knocking teams out of the championship hunt -- Texas/Nebraska in the inaugural, Kansas State/Texas A&M, OU/Kansas State -- so nothing can be taken for granted. Especially given the weather forecast for Kansas City: 20's for most of the game, possibly dropping into the teens. That could slow down OU's high-flying O, but it's do the same for Mizzou. The pick: Sooners

That makes it a Florida/Oklahoma title game, and that would be one interesting game.

I'm also working Monday through Wednesday, so I'm not sure how much I get up between now and then, but you can expect a few more reviews after that -- besides 'The Shield', I'm seeing 'Milk' at a screening next week, and plan to see 'Frost/Nixon' by the end of the week.

Navel Gazing: Great Success! (UPDATE)

When I started this blog, my chief hope was just that I might find a place where people would read my writing. You can't imagine how frustrating it can be being a writer in Hollywood -- pouring your heart into something, and then having to twist arms just to get somebody to read it. In my experience, writers write for two reasons: 1) For the experience/catharsis -- that is to get the voices in our heads down onto paper (or screen) and have them realized, and/or 2) To have that work read by others -- we all hope to affect the world in some way, be it on a global scale, or just by making one person laugh/cry/scream/whatever.

Since I started posting here, I've often doubted that anyone was really reading. Sure, I had told a few friends, and maybe they told a few friends, and maybe even a couple people stumbled across this space while looking for something else, but I felt a bit like a castaway, writing messages in bottles, hoping someone might find one. I've gotten a couple of comments from strangers complementing my reviews, but for the most part they didn't quell those fears. That's why -- or at least one of the reasons -- it was such a thrill today to receive an e-mail from someone who had found one of those messages, someone whom I happen to admire very much.

Last night, I posted my latest TV review -- of one of my favorite shows on the air, 'Sons of Anarchy'. To be honest, it was late at night, I was getting tired, and I don't even think it was particularly well-written -- I left out some important points I'd meant to include. But in the review, I wrote about the show's creator, Kurt Sutter, and how he came from one of my all-time favorite shows, 'The Shield'.* This morning I woke up and checked my e-mail to find a message from Mr. Sutter complementing the blog. At first I was sure it was a prank -- my writing partner Barry works in publicity for FOX, and actually deals with Sutter and others from the show as part of his routine (besides being a big fan of it), so I immediately assumed he had figured out some way to fake the e-mail.

But, upon further review, I found the e-mail led back to a blog right here on Blogger run by Sutter, himself. "SutterInk" is the name of the blog (the link is now in my blog roll on the right side of the screen), and you should really check it out -- and not just because I love both Sutter's work and his politics, though that's undoubtedly a big reason why. It was certainly a thrill to hear personally from someone I idolize, but it also presented a common dilemma in this town.

See, I'm a struggling screenwriter, and that's not uncommon in LA. In fact, we're a dime a dozen. But none of us feel like we're a dime a dozen -- we all feel uniquely special (whether we are or not is someone else's call). So whenever we meet someone in a position to help our careers, there's both the temptation to ask, and also the knowledge that doing so makes us not only a pest, but even worse -- a cliched pest. That's when pride often steps up to block our way. In a desire to not be That Guy, we don't say what's on our mind. We don't ask for what we want. And in my experience, if you're too afraid to ask for what you want, you'd better be resigned to going without it.

I am certainly not resigned to going without a career in screenwriting, but I've often found myself too prideful, or too embarrassed, to ask for someone's assistance in my career -- even when I've known they have the power to grant it. This happened recently to Barry, who had to opportunity through his work to hang out with Shawn Ryan, the creator of 'The Shield' (as well as 'The Unit') for three hours the other day. They talked about writing and the business and all sorts of things, but because Barry was there for his job, he felt too awkward to mention the fact he's a screenwriter who's been screwed over a few times (I know because I was bent-over right next to him at the time) and could use a helping hand.

I totally get why Barry didn't mention his situation to Ryan -- it might have been unprofessional in his position -- but I swore that I wouldn't pass up the same type of opportunity. I'm not going to let my pride stand in my way -- at least not anymore. I can't afford to. My screenwriting career is on shaky ground at this moment -- due to the economy, my representation situation, and the fact I'm having to move to Boulder, CO because the only solid job opportunity I currently have resides there -- and I need to do whatever it takes to breath life back into it. So, I did the unthinkable (at least for me): I swallowed my pride and replied to Mr. Sutter, asking if he had any advice for a poor, struggling screenwriter like myself.

Part of what inspired me to do this was reading his blog, which mentioned a time before 'The Shield' when he was a struggling screenwriter himself, and how Shawn Ryan helped and mentored him. But mostly, it was an admission that I need to change -- I need to realize that truly dedicated people do anything they can to achieve their goal, and that it's not a sign of weakness to ask for help (at least, not an unforgivable one).

I know Sutter probably won't have any great news for me -- I'm sure he gets these types of requests all the time. Although I'm willing to take any job on the ground floor of TV or movies right now -- writer's assistant, PA, fluffer, you name it -- the economy sucks, and I'm sure there's a long line of people ahead of me in the same predicament, if not worse. But the important thing to me is that I tried -- I don't want to leave LA knowing I left any stones unturned. To me, that's a notable success. As is the discovery that someone out there is actually reading this blog -- someone whose work I've been religiously following for years. I'm through the looking glass, and I love it!

UPDATE: So I heard back from Mr. Sutter, who very graciously shared a poignant anecdote and some quality advice. I'm tempted to copy and paste the whole e-mail here, but somehow I feel it would lose its coolness (and make no mistake, this whole thing has been very cool) if I did. So I'll summarize: Don't make excuses, don't blame other people, don't worry about if you'll sell anything -- just write. Write what you want, write a good story, and the rest will follow.

That's great advice, and as I've written in this space before, it's advice I'm already taking. Barry and I have been writing our dream project for a little over a month -- a project we've put off for years in favor of more "commercial" projects -- and I've often thought during that time that it's a opportunity we would never have had if not for our fucked-up representation situation. So I'm taking it as a blessing that we can write what we want, that I know we're writing a good story, and we don't have to listen to anyone else's input. That's an opportunity I cherish, and whether it ever sells or gets made is beside the point.

I have to add: Today gave me a mental boost -- just hearing from someone I admire, whose work I enjoy, and having him take the time to offer me some helpful words. And it was all thanks to the internet, and this silly little blog! Thanks, Al Gore!

* Just to give a quick head's up, I hope to post my review of 'The Shield's' final season sometime this week.

Navel Gazing: LA Story

This is where I over-share about my life, spilling all my thoughts, ideas, fears, and aspirations onto the page for everyone to see. Like you even care.

When I was in college at Boston University, I took a job as the Sports Information Director at the Wentworth Institute of Technology. I was badly overmatched at the job, which required more time than a full-time student like myself could give. I left after a semester, but not before I came across something I would keep close to my heart for the next 17 years and counting.

It was tacked to a wall in the Athletic Department, a white piece of paper with some printing on it. I have no idea who placed it there -– it didn't belong among the sweaty men and locker room talk. This is what it read:

IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER

I'd dare to make more mistakes next time. I'd relax, I would limber up. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I would take fewer things seriously. I would take more chances.I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice cream and less beans. I would perhaps have more actual troubles, but I'd have fewer imaginary ones.

You see, I'm one of those people who live sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I've had my moments, And if I had it to do over again, I'd have more of them. In fact, I'd try to have nothing else. Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day.I've been one of those people who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat and a parachute. If I had to do it again, I would travel lighter than I have.

If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would go to more dances. I would ride more merry-go-rounds. I would pick more daisies.

Nadine Stair
Louisville, Kentucky
85 years old

I photocopied that sheet of paper, and have kept the increasingly tattered copy with me -– tacked to walls in my workplace, taped to a bookshelf next to my desk at home – and looked to it often for inspiration. I even used it to explain a number of life decisions -– the choice to leave multiple jobs, even as a reason to move to LA from Boulder, CO. But like any great quote, or philosophy, or advice, it eventually loses the rush of understanding that once accompanied it and sinks back into the background. Even epiphanies whither on the vine.

You get lulled into some kind of haze, in which you seem to be wearing blinders. You focus on just what’s in front of you, and you lose sight of where you are in the big picture. Like a castaway adrift in a lifeboat, the scenery still looks the same, but you’ve drifted so far off course, you can never get back. This is how marriages are ruined, how people become stuck in professions they hate, why mid-life crises happen.

This is exactly what was happening to me until recently. I was so concerned with making it as a screenwriter, I failed to notice this pursuit was making me miserable. It’s not the writing, per se. I still love to write –- the rush of inspiration, the challenge of development, the thrill of executing an idea –- it’s everything which had surrounded it that was making me miserable.

You see, to achieve my goal –- making a living wage as a screenwriter -– I had to cozy up to several unattractive propositions: living in LA*, employing agents and managers with whom I didn’t necessarily see eye-to-eye, working with any producer who’d pay (or even promise to), etc. Kowtowing to these ugly realities slowly ate away at my soul, and I only realized when it started to kill my joy for writing. In addition, the money from our pitch sale is running out, and I’ve been unable to find a good job (due in most part to the fact I haven’t had a “real” job in about 10 years). My wife and I want to start a family eventually, but since you need a stable income for something like that, we seemed to be drifting further and further from that goal.

That’s when I realized: I don’t even need to be in LA to write anymore. With all the progress made in communicating via the Internet -- e-mail, IM, teleconferencing, Scipe, even a screenwriting program which allows two people to work on the same document simultaneously –- I could be a screenwriter from anywhere. When I first came out, it was a necessity -– I didn’t know anyone in Hollywood, and more importantly, they didn’t know me. But I’ve made my connections in town, I rarely go to many meetings anymore (and could always do them by phone in a pinch), and I’ve established myself (at least a bit) by selling a pitch. My writing partner, Barry, will still live here, in case any face-to-face work must be done in town. So what’s really keeping me here?

That realization excited me, and when I found out an old friend in Boulder had a job waiting for me if I wanted it, that excitement grew. My decision (along with my wife, of course) to move back to Boulder felt incredibly freeing. So was firing our managers, who were making the development/writing process a living hell. Once I freed myself from these uncomfortable constraints, the inspiration returned. And the ticking clock -– knowing I’ll only be here to work with Barry in person until early next year -– lends needed urgency to our current script, a project we’re both passionate about (but have been putting off for too long in order to write more commercial material).

I know that by moving, I may close doors which held opportunities in show business, but sometimes in life you need to make a change, and sometimes that change includes a shuffling of priorities. I still hope to keep writing in Boulder and eventually “make it” as a screenwriter, but I’m not willing to put my life on hold any longer to achieve that goal. At this moment, my dreams of having a family, my mental health, and my (and my wife's) overall happiness all have to trump any career strategy.

Right now, it’s time to ride some merry-go-rounds and pick some daisies.

* When a friend recently asked me the reasons why I'd prefer living in Boulder to living in LA, this is what I came up with off the top of my head:
--No traffic
--No smog
--No road rage
--No high speed car chases
--No pretense/attitude/douchebags
--Easier to meet people, make friends
--No lines at movie theaters/restaurants/bars
--Much more fun/less exclusive night scene
--More parking (doesn't sound like a big deal until you live here)
--More beautiful scenery
--Better/older friends already out there (2 best friends from college)
--No police helicopters circling above our apartment all through the night every Fri/Sat
--No long commutes to work (both our commutes are 30+ min. even though we work in completely opposite directions), errands, and friends (I have friends I don't see just because they live too far away)
--Less taxes (here I had to pay to become a small business so I could work as a writer)
--Less psychos/crime: Just in the last few weeks, a SWAT team showed up at out apartment building, broke down our neighbors door & dragged him off in cuffs, and an arsonist began burning cars on our street in the middle of the night. Previously, I've had someone steal parts of my cars 3 times -- once stealing my muffler, once stealing my rearview mirror, and once just stealing everything in my glove box -- and my downstairs neighbor once woke up to a homeless man standing naked over her bed masturbating.
--Better economy: For the price we pay for our little apartment out here, we can have a 3 bedroom house on Sunshine Canyon (a beautiful spot) in Boulder, with a garage, a fireplace and a huge deck overlooking a forest and lake.
--Better place to raise a family (I have more than one married friend who refuses to have kids until they leave LA because they wouldn't want to raise one here)
--Did mention "no traffic" yet? Seriously, this can not be over-emphasized
--For Andrea: Boulder universally listed as one of US's top 10 cities for animal-friendliness, environmental-friendliness, and organic/vegetarian food options