'If you don't really care about breathing, Los Angeles is a great place'

I've officially lived in L.A. for over a year, which is weird to realize now because I am currently in New York (where the wedding was beautiful and fun and all things good despite my dress trauma). I don't really have anything exciting to say about this one-year anniversary right now. Things are looking up. I have moved apartments, which is awesome, and one of these days, when I'm back in L.A. and have a few extra minutes (i.e., after Sukkot? Winter break? After I've earned my Ph.D.?), I'll post some pictures, especially of my awesome bathroom (I've never had my own bathroom before, and let's just say, it's very me) and my color-coordinated wall decals (you probably don't want to ask). I'm excited for next semester, though slightly wary, especially considering I'll be missing much of the first month of school to three-day yom tov (woohoo!). I'm taking Frankie the Fish home with me (his brief stay at my parent's house has entertained my little brothers and aggravated my mother). And that's about all for now.

[Quote in title is from an article about the worst cities in which to live.]