The Getty Center Vortex
Ever since I moved to California, the Getty Center has acted on the course of my life like a giant whirlpool in an ocean. Every time I safely skirted by it's tidal pull on Highway 405, my friends would point to it and say "that's a cool place to go, we should go there someday, I haven't been in forever." But later, when I suggested actually going (because as I non-native I don't know all the cool places to go), I would get a chorus of blank stares, as if they didn't know what I was talking about.
Three years of this, and I grew tired of it. I wanted to see what the fuss was about. So I kidnapped my plutonic girlfriend Nancy serveral hours before our usual Sunday date, and asked her to go with me. We were forced to take a circuitous route to get there, from I-5 to the 101 to I-10 to the 405, because strange forces were acting upon us, and we couldn't tell right from left or north from south. (This often happens when Nancy and I get in the car together, but that day it was worse than ever). Despite leaving early, we didn't arrive till well after it's opening time of 10am. And we had a blast!! Great art, soothing architecture, beautiful gardens, lovely weather, particularly for late winter. But we didn't get to stay long because Nancy had work, so we only saw about half of what was there to see. We decided to go again the following week.
One week dragged into two, which stretched on into never. That was several months ago now, and there have been lots of rainy days between. But the Getty has been steadily pulling me back towards it's clutches all the same, acting upon my unconscious mind. When I decided to ask out that Italian girl in my anthropology class, the Getty Center came to mind as the best possible first date. But then I listened to my friends and instead suggested dinner, which seemed less threatening than something an hour's drive away. Apparently still too threatening, since she backed out of it at the last minute. (I should have gone with coffee, except that I don't drink coffee and think the constant sound of coffee grinders makes for a distracting conversation).
Then I suddenly found myself inviting Melladoree to a picnic, since she has suffered a tragic shortage of picnics in her life. And what better place to have a picnic than the Getty? Sadly, she too refused, citing the silly fact that we had never actually met. My own words thown back at me actually, since we have flirted off and on over the web for the past two years. (I secretly think she refused because for the second Valentine's Day in a row I did not send her flowers, even though every romantic thought in my head has urged me to do so, and I did threaten to do it once or twice awhile back. But cyberstalking a girl's home address whom I haven't met just seems wrong to me, and she no longer works at the one location I thought might work. Sigh...and now she despises me as an unromantic sod...)
And the coincidences keep gaining strength. My roomates (+ one of their girlfriends), after three years of ignoring the Getty except when passing it on the 405, suggested going this coming Saturday. I was forced to refuse, because my art class meets on Saturday morning. Then I went to art class yesterday, and my teacher says out of the blue "Hey!! Let's all go on a fieldtrip to the Getty!! Does next Saturday work for everyone?" Fate, kismet, whatever you wish to call it, the Getty is drawing me inevitably back into it's clutches.
So I gave in and said yes. After all, it is a fun place. Perhaps not as fun as say Vegas, but it makes for a pleasant day. And anyone who has bothered to read this far into my blog is invited to go too. It's free, except for the parking costs. My art class will be meeting near the gift shop at 10:15. (Bring a friend, because I might be a bit busy.)
Hey!! I just realized that this is all set to take place on April 1st!! Random chaos is bound to ensue, so you simply must come!!!
Ever since I moved to California, the Getty Center has acted on the course of my life like a giant whirlpool in an ocean. Every time I safely skirted by it's tidal pull on Highway 405, my friends would point to it and say "that's a cool place to go, we should go there someday, I haven't been in forever." But later, when I suggested actually going (because as I non-native I don't know all the cool places to go), I would get a chorus of blank stares, as if they didn't know what I was talking about.
Three years of this, and I grew tired of it. I wanted to see what the fuss was about. So I kidnapped my plutonic girlfriend Nancy serveral hours before our usual Sunday date, and asked her to go with me. We were forced to take a circuitous route to get there, from I-5 to the 101 to I-10 to the 405, because strange forces were acting upon us, and we couldn't tell right from left or north from south. (This often happens when Nancy and I get in the car together, but that day it was worse than ever). Despite leaving early, we didn't arrive till well after it's opening time of 10am. And we had a blast!! Great art, soothing architecture, beautiful gardens, lovely weather, particularly for late winter. But we didn't get to stay long because Nancy had work, so we only saw about half of what was there to see. We decided to go again the following week.
One week dragged into two, which stretched on into never. That was several months ago now, and there have been lots of rainy days between. But the Getty has been steadily pulling me back towards it's clutches all the same, acting upon my unconscious mind. When I decided to ask out that Italian girl in my anthropology class, the Getty Center came to mind as the best possible first date. But then I listened to my friends and instead suggested dinner, which seemed less threatening than something an hour's drive away. Apparently still too threatening, since she backed out of it at the last minute. (I should have gone with coffee, except that I don't drink coffee and think the constant sound of coffee grinders makes for a distracting conversation).
Then I suddenly found myself inviting Melladoree to a picnic, since she has suffered a tragic shortage of picnics in her life. And what better place to have a picnic than the Getty? Sadly, she too refused, citing the silly fact that we had never actually met. My own words thown back at me actually, since we have flirted off and on over the web for the past two years. (I secretly think she refused because for the second Valentine's Day in a row I did not send her flowers, even though every romantic thought in my head has urged me to do so, and I did threaten to do it once or twice awhile back. But cyberstalking a girl's home address whom I haven't met just seems wrong to me, and she no longer works at the one location I thought might work. Sigh...and now she despises me as an unromantic sod...)
And the coincidences keep gaining strength. My roomates (+ one of their girlfriends), after three years of ignoring the Getty except when passing it on the 405, suggested going this coming Saturday. I was forced to refuse, because my art class meets on Saturday morning. Then I went to art class yesterday, and my teacher says out of the blue "Hey!! Let's all go on a fieldtrip to the Getty!! Does next Saturday work for everyone?" Fate, kismet, whatever you wish to call it, the Getty is drawing me inevitably back into it's clutches.
So I gave in and said yes. After all, it is a fun place. Perhaps not as fun as say Vegas, but it makes for a pleasant day. And anyone who has bothered to read this far into my blog is invited to go too. It's free, except for the parking costs. My art class will be meeting near the gift shop at 10:15. (Bring a friend, because I might be a bit busy.)
Hey!! I just realized that this is all set to take place on April 1st!! Random chaos is bound to ensue, so you simply must come!!!