shake hands.

I went out to dinner last night at this chic lounge called Dulce. I think it's owned by Ashton Kutcher or some shit. After dinner on Melrose, my friends and I somehow ended up in Westwood at my friend's apartment, then at a party where I ran into two people from my high school, then carrying a chair home from said party, and finally sitting on the curb somewhere talking and laughing.

Things are getting better. And I just know that this year will be the strangest conglomeration of happenings, all rolled into a fantastic, nostalgia-inducing nine months. And my classes sound pretty good. And the magazine interview went really well. I walked into the office and people were playing ping pong. Nonetheless, I think I'm too busy for an unpaid internship right now.

So I'll just forget about Burlingame and unpack all my things and get comfortable.