I started this blog over the weekend bitching about the third parking ticket I received this year alone in the OC last week (the second in SD and the first in LA—it’s like I’m trying to be ticketed in every city). Now that San Diego’s going down in flames, it all seems so trivial. I can see one of the five fires burning around SD from my own backyard in the Valley. Besides having class canceled during the Cedar Fire of 2003, I’ve never really been affected by a fire until last night. I thought I’d be able to sit it out in the comfort of my own home like the last time, but the police pounded on our door around six o’clock and urged us to evacuate immediately. I didn’t realize how serious it was until I saw the flames rising above Mt. San Miguel towards my house on TV at my grandma’s apartment. A lot of my friends live in the same neighborhood, so I contacted them all to make sure they were okay, along with my relatives who had evacuated the fires in North County. Luckily, everyone was fine, but my relatives up north won’t find out if their houses were spared until they’re allowed to go back home later this week (along with nearly a million other displaced Californians). I was supposed to have two midterms, a project and a term paper due this week, but class has been canceled through the weekend… That doesn’t really make me feel much better about what’s happening here at home, though.

On a happier note, I finally booked our trip to Hawaii. Pammie, Shi, Chel and I are going to have an amazing time… The only thing I’m not looking forward to is all that exercise I have to do in order to be beach-ready by January. And all that yummy food I have to avoid over the holidays. And all those nights I’ll spend crying myself to sleep out of hunger. I mean… What.