Digging through old photos the other day, I found a picture I had long forgotten: a tree bursting with a cascade of red, orange and yellow leaves.

Lana Yoo
I’m ashamed to admit that even after four years of being a Bruin, my friend from Arizona knows much more about Los Angeles hot spots than I do.

Every person gasps with agony when I reveal that I have never read a single Harry Potter book nor watched an entire Star Wars movie without falling asleep. And this severe aversion to anything involving science fiction or fantasy has always led me to wonder: Am I an anomalous freak?

It’s called the “Stuck-in-P-town Syndrome,” and if you are growing up in the small Southern California city of Poway, you are to avoid falling victim to this condition at all costs.

I’d never before imagined that I’d be called a whore, especially in public ““ and by a priest.

We pass by them, six feet under, on the way to the 405 freeway. One of the major streets in Westwood is named after them. And thanks to them, we had a day off of school this past Monday.

Collapsing into bed at 10:30 p.m. and wanting to avoid being woken up by phone calls, I turned off my cell phone for the first time.

Recalling my days as a junk food junkie, I would never have imagined ever loving vegetables, or becoming even a remotely healthy eater. I was perfectly happy with my daily fare of pizza and chips, thank you very much.

A picture is worth a thousand curses ““ especially one from Facebook that shuts you out of your dream job.

I am an aspiring hedonist.