Not that it changes how I feel about the commute, but this article in the LA Times touches on one of the features that I like about a skyline: the skyline.

Current candidates:

1. Playa Vista, overlooking Concert Park. The Carabela development is all sold out, so I'm targetting Serenade. If I had an extra million to spare, I'd be looking at Park Houses instead.
2. Pasadena, targetting the New Boston Centennial Building.
3. Downtown, targetting a whole host of projects.
4. Studio City, targetting Lantana. If I had an extra million to spare, I'd be looking for at a new house instead.
5. San Diego, targetting Alta. This requires the largest leap of faith and is there if I want to start a whole new life.

Often I wonder if this is just another example of me trying to disprove the voice in my head that has learned to embrace rejection, failure, and loss. It's a schizophrenic battle played on a financial field. Like I'm telling half of myself, "Fuck you!" Fuck me! A lot of people deal with anguish in different ways, and perhaps the way I deal with it is with swiping plastic and signing checks.

I've actually got an architect lined up to help me build a house in the San Diego mountains, so that's a possiblity as well. I need to get Clark Kent's agent; all I want is a fortress of solitude. With broadband.