I was cleaning this weekend and came across one of my old high school yearbooks. I’m not one to reminisce about high school on a regular basis, but it’s certainly handy for Facebook friend requests. I can’t remember half the people that supposedly knew me back then.
While flipping through the pages, I came across a wilted, previously pink flower that I had kept. I vaguely remember that a girl gave it to me, but I have no idea who it was. I borrowed the idea from Gary Cooper’s character in Pride of the Yankees. (Grew up on old black and white movies) I find it utterly hilarious that I can remember the reasoning behind putting it in the yearbook, but can’t remember the person that gave it to me.
I’ve started to look at rentals in Santa Monica again. Something close to the bus line when I need to go downtown. Maybe Downtown too. Craigslist is a myriad of options, but less actual solutions. I’d really love to go somewhat car-less, but L.A. is such a car-centric town. Arrrgh!
