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I just found this time-lapse video on YouTube — 24 Hours at the Daily Cal:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tpHNxhxrd6M

It’s really a great idea, whoever put it together. Not so much for the individual faces — especially because I’m too old now to recognize any of them — but because it captures the essence of the pace, mood and even culture of the paper. We worked frantically, goofed off, stayed late, came in randomly to print essays for class and check email, ate, slept, wandered from corner to corner. It was as exhilirating as it was miserable.

The Daily Cal was like any youthful obsession — we took it too seriously, thought it was the most important thing in the world, invented and inflamed drama, took things personally, couldn’t keep it separate from the rest of our lives … and loved and hated it at the same time. Outsiders didn’t understand. Insiders made it worse.

We were hard-working, ambitious, emotional perfectionists, all crammed into an enclosed space for 50 hours a week with deadlines and — oh yeah, classes to attend. Some of us were depressed. Some didn’t sleep. Some worse. But every day we united behind a common and mandatory goal: putting out the paper. That wasn’t always the upside. Sometimes production was sheer misery. But sometimes it was the highest high, especially on a few memorable nights: when Clark Kerr died, election days (especially the Davis recall/Schwarzenegger win and the Bush re-election), and the first night of fall production in 2004 (my second semester as managing editor, fresh off my Chronicle internship).

Despite any petty factions or problems, production was an unmatchable feeling of belonging, and of doing something important and meaningful.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be that involved at a professional news organization (that requires about three decades of war correspondence another decade as a bureau chief), so I hope I always remember the agony and reward of college journalism. And that’s how a time-lapse video can say so much without using a word for those of us who were a part of it. Bet you wish I were as silent, eh?

Being a chic and trendy couple, Curtis and I jumped on the green bandwagon today and replaced (almost) every lightbulb in our apartment with EnergyStar-approved energy-saving bulbs. Our conservation efforts should mean we can afford to run the air conditioner longer, ha. And taking mass transit is a joy — that’s almost five months here and I still like it, people.

And for once, I’m going to make a list entirely about Curtis, detailing all the awesome handiwork he did today:

• swapped more than a dozen lightbulbs
• assembled two lamps that previously were not working
• cleaned the shmutz off floor and ceiling fans
• installed a new bar on our towel rack
• extended the chain on our vanity lightswitch
• vacuumed
• put away the laundry
• made iced coffee

A note on transportation:

Last week, during my NYC-LA-SD-Catalina-Ensenada-LA-NYC trip, I traveled by:

subway, car service, airplane, car (passenger and driver), cruise ship, tender boat, taxi

Today, running errands in Manhattan, I rode the:

F, 6, 7, W trains.

Stop snickering, I know I’m not that impressive.

It was strange being back in L.A., and while my reflections are all cliche and dull, I want to write them down so I don’t forget.

I understand now why East Coasters associate West Coasters with the beach (“You’re from California? Cool, do you surf?”). Driving around Santa Monica and Venice, everyone looks like they’re going to or from the beach. The style is so casual and laid back, flip flops and sunglasses abound, everyone is super tan and showing as much skin as they can get away with.

Aside from looks, everyone’s driving, there’s nowhere to park, there’s traffic. The houses and shops are all fresh and new looking. They’re SO short, and stuccoed in neutral shades. For the first time, I pegged roofs as the most defining characteristic of L.A. buildings, with their tile and gravel, tapered and flat. I don’t know what a single NYC roof looks like. NYC buildings stand out because of the material they’re made of — shiny metal, red brick. They look worn, tall and pretentious.

But the biggest difference I noticed was the air. California air is cool, brisk and clean feeling. It blows off the ocean with a refreshing burst. The breeze in New York, if you can call it that, is thick and sticky in the summer. Its only cooling effect is to blow the immediate heat off your skin with a warm smack. I’m glad I went to the beach every week that I lived in L.A., that way I can’t look back and feel like I took it completely for granted.

P.S. I’m happy to be back in New York, no really.