suburbia pt. 2

I took a walk in my neighborhood yesterday right before sunset. It's so peculiar to wander around in a place where the streets are clean and quiet, where the aroma of roses and the subtle scent of cigarette smoke exist in equal measures, and where blonde soccer moms stand in front of their big houses with their tiny dogs and their tiny athletic outfits to gossip about the latest divorce until sundown. Suburbia is the most beautiful, ominous, and mysterious place.

suburbia

I'm heading back to my blooming and strangely idyllic home town in Northern California tomorrow morning. It's funny what being a west-to-east-coast transplant has done to me - especially moving, for college, from arguably the most picturesque suburban neighborhood in existence to one of the most dangerous and povertous cities in the country, where fluctuating weather actually exists and 75 degrees is not to be expected year round. This change has really made me embrace the idea of suburbia, despite the monotony it may represent to some. I'm fortunate to come from a suburb that actually boasts a variety of interesting architecture and landscaping, but the repetitive nature of suburbia has always captivated me as well, especially exaggerated neighborhoods like those in Tim Burton's Edward Scissorhands or the "little boxes" in Jenji Kohan's Weeds.





When I returned home a few months ago I made sure to take a some snapshots of my neighborhood transitioning into the winter:





I can only imagine what it looks like now that Spring is in full bloom. I guess there's always room to romanticize things, but living in Baltimore for six months has really brought out my love of suburbia - its perfectionist beauty, serenity, and I suppose the nostalgia that I associate with it. I can't wait to immerse myself back in my home and the coast where the weather plays no pivotal part in how I dress in the morning.