Save Ferris

I finally have a new roommate. It seriously came close to me leaving this apartment, this place, LA.

At a certain time when my friends were here from Minnesota I surrendered myself to the fact that I may be seeing some of these things for the very last time. Which is was heartbreaking because I think you can tell from this blog exactly how much I love it here.

So I did one thing I never thought I'd do in a million years. I rode the Santa Monica Ferris Wheel. It was always daunting to me. It is large, so large that you can see it from Malibu at night, me being afraid of heights, it being old and rickety and run by carnies w/ really small hands. (or actually kids who look like they are in high school. I am not sure what is worse.) I couldn't bring myself to do it. And it is not like I hadn't been asked or begged to go on it before, for some reason Ferris wheels are romantic. I see them as a spinning wheel of death.

So last Friday my visiting friends suggested we go on and I looked up at it and thought, this may be the last time you get this opportunity so I said "f-it, I am riding that Ferris wheel."

And I did. And I was so distracted by the view, the breeze that I didn't think about how high we were, how old it was, how warped the boards were on the boardwalk that was holding us up. We didn't get stuck at the top waiting for other riders to get on, so that was a plus.

I want to go on again.