I really, truly, honestly thought I would die first before moving back to San Diego. Touche, life. Touche.
Last time we were here, I was oh-so-naively living in Santa Barbara, doing close to nothing, and searching the internet for jobs in Northern California. And then pretty much out of nowhere, a fantastic job opportunity essentially dropped out of the sky into my hands, and I really would have been a bona fide idiot had I let it go. So to San Diego I went, and to San Diego I moved - literally. I am now a resident of the 92101 zip code, and hence an urbanite. In the high-rise building across my street, I have a fun-house view of more high-rise buildings in the window reflections. I can also see the train station and the airport from my oddly-placed windows. I live in a 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom condo (not mine, clearly), in the southernmost block of Little Italy, which is essentially downtown San Diego. It's quite a bit more expensive than living at home, but I think Mom and Dad will agree with me that it's worth it. Especially since they're not paying my rent anymore. Hello, financial independence: a liberating and dizzyingly terrifying jump from the nest.

But here I am, typing away from my big-girl bedroom, windows opens, blinds drawn, Jeff Buckley in the background. I am a working girl now (the financial independence thing kind of goes hand-in-hand with the employment thing) and my inner clock protests my early bedtime; it loathes my early morning alarm. I've been a night-owl all my life and after three months I'm still struggling to be asleep before midnight and awake before 7am.

Three things you could know about me:
1. Raw mushrooms creep me out. I often expect them to grow limbs and start running up my arms.
2. I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, a morning person.
3. I am unsure how I feel about persimmons.

Also, I can be unreasonably long-winded. My apologies.

In an effort to curtail my last statement, I'm going to refrain from explicating the details of my current employment. I have, however, decided writing is a better use of my time than waiting for new episodes of House to become available on Hulu, so I intend to make an earnest effort to write here much more often.

Peace out.