Is this the... third? Fourth time? I don't know, my blog is readable again, don't know why I always close it.
Wednesday, August 8I was looking through old things, there's a lot of my old things in this house. The photos alone range from the Pink-Booty-Shorts era (which is often confused with the Purple-Corduroy days) all the way to the horrifying What-Exactly-Am-Doing-At-This-School-Dance-Oh-Right-I'm-In-ASB days. There are storybooks I wrote in elementary school, picture journals, programs from old plays. Worn, abused toys from McDonalds. Needless knick-knacks I collected from various thrift stores. Countless Yu-Gi-Oh cards, which probably cost my parents too much even though they bought them anyway. All sorts of stupid shit I will probably never throw away; I'd rather keep them someplace safe and forgettable.
Anyway, once I got over this weird hybrid of uniquely Oriental shame and self-importance, I started flipping through my yearbook from Beverly Vista. I started wondering about old classmates, if I should look them up on facebook or not. I thought about how odd it was for us to know each other then, and only then, while we were so young. Then I thought what the hell is wrong with me, thus resuming the shame, then I figured I'd write this blog post so I could cover self-important, too.
Man, it's hot!
