i am officially back in my local SOCAL after an insane decade in NYC and MIA, where the creme of the crop came to prove their superiority, cut their teeth, and take over their own perfectly dreamt outcomes, which, in a honesty, were just like my own. Armed with degrees in journalism and english literature, i left SoCal upon figuring out rather quickly that working as a hollywood studio slave was NOT my calling. Fast forward one short week - i sold my first luxury sedan and gave up my idyllic hills cottage i had once pictured writing my first few literary masterpieces inside. basically shedding a life i had constructed -- a life that did little to stroke the passion of being an accomplished journalist turned published fictional author - a life i dreamt of since my english teacher in HS informed me that i was a writing force-of-nature, which was hard to deny given my rapid fire success: Editor-in-Chief of my college weekly, full ride scholarship, top of my class, clearly more talented in my endeavor than ever thought possible. My abrupt move to New York City was borne from the bitter letdown of being deprived a deeply imbedded passion i dreamt of my entire life: after college, I unwittingly fell into a normal life that was much more acceptable in my family rank and file, with the mundanities of everyday life sedated by the luxuries and materialism that most couldn't image being bestowed such an idyllic way of life, a life that was my prison, a life filled with the regrets of not fulfilling my true calling, my true passion nd love - writing. My friends, although trying, couldn't hide their worry - hell, i was worried, but that was short lived and before i knew it i and procured an editing job in NYC and soon was freelancing for multiple web-mags. in short, i was living the life of 'Carrie Bradshaw' ala 'Sex in the City', and all was perfect again, despite the hard road i had traveled. when 9-11 and all it's terror arrived over perfect