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2002-11-05
6:21 p.m.

Do you believe in signs? And I'm not talking about the Mel Gibson movie...

I think I believe in signs, and I think I have been getting quite a few that are telling me to move to California.

Like when I was there, everyone kept asking me when I was moving to SF. Ok, that may not really be a sign, but more of a question.

The following are better examples of signs telling me to go:

Last night, after work, I met a couple of friends for a drink. (It is never just A drink, by the way, it's usually at least 5...) We were having drinks and exchanging stories about our weekends when this guy they kind of knew came over to join our table. It turns out he is from LA and we hit it off pretty well. After my two friends left, the LA guy (we'll call him Ken, because that is his name) and I went to a couple more bars. We're supposed to hang out again later tonight. He goes back to LA tomorrow. (I took his scarf last night so I'm pretty sure he'll call to hang out again. If not, I at least got a new cashmere scarf out of the deal...)

Then today I was at a record store, buying the new Justin Timberlake CD (guilty pleasure, ok?) and this guy came up to me and asked about the nearest mall and why it was so lame. I had no real answer for him but did direct him to some better shopping destinations. We got to talking and it turns out he is here for work and is from, here comes the shocker, LA. He said he'll be here until the first of the year and he and his co-workers are all looking for cool places to hang out and stuff. He also said they might be looking for more people to join their company. So, I don't really know if that was a recruitment talk or someone who may end up being cool to hang with. Regardless, I have a feeling he'll call.

I don't know what it is about me lately, but I apparently have been really approachable to strangers (and good looking ones, too). It's kinda fun.

And the third (and final) sign is that I almost got run over by a truck today. I was driving on the street in my awful little car and this truck just decidesd it wanted to be in my lane and didn't seem to mind that I was there. Until I layed on the horn. Normally, I wouldn't think of such an incident as a sign until I saw the license plate. California.

It may be time to pack the bags. (Good thing I never really unpacked them)

(This entry has a lot of sentences in parenthesis's, huh?)