Well, well, well, what the fuck am I going to do with myself? Seriously, I ask you. Give me some fucking advice, here. I'm drowning in possibilities and questions. Someone throw me a fuckin' rope! Ahh!

Okay, I'm done with that part. Now for the actual blogging.

I am finally moved into the apartment. Took the better part of last week and the entire weekend, but it's now done. Mostly. I've still got my dresser and bookcase to move in, but I have no idea when that will be done, not really having any time to do it, you understand. Never before in my life have I realized just how many fucking books I actually have. They're all over the floor of my room, it's quite sad. But I'll not get rid of them. Most of 'em I haven't even read.

Scoff at me, why don't you. And I'm an English major...

My roommates have been in Utah for the week, so what little time I do spend at the apartment has been completely alone, aside from Santiago and the constant footsteps from above. It's really weird listening to the dark and hearing random thumps and bangs from the ceiling. I no longer am thrilled by the sound of screeching tires. I've gotten my fill of them after the first two nights. It's sad how many people squeel off into the night around my place. I still like the apartment, though. I sort of have to, for at least six months.

In all likelyhood though, I'll probably be staying there for the entire year until I get my transfer-shit out of the way. Please, God, let me transfer in a year!

But I don't know why I'm so anxious to be leaving Hemet. In reality, I probably won't be able to afford living on my own out there. I'll have to find a roommate, or God forbid, live in a dorm, which I really fucking don't want to do. Yeah, so I'm roommate-bound. Let me find a good roommate, too!

Man, I hate living in the real world. It's so depressing. It shows you just how far you've come and just how far you've yet to go. It brings to light all the little shortcomings you've experienced. Really, it just breaks all the little fantasies you develope as a child and throws you into the dragon's maw to fend for yourself. And to think, I actually chose this life instead of continuing to live in the security of home! I didn't have to pay rent at home as long as I was a student or had a job. I had both! And I still chose to financially kill myself. Because I had some foolish notion of wanting to grow up and experience the "real world," I have written away my life and most of my paychecks for the next six months to a year.

I'm secretly hoping my family gives me money for my birthday instead of gifts.

But I digress...

It was funny as hell moving my bed from the house to the apartment. It's about 8:00, and dark as anything outside. My dad's helping and my mom is doing her best. It won't fit in the Mormon van, so we have to strap it on top. Only the van's kinda tall, so I'm lifting one end over my head while my dad's shoving with all his might. We make some kind of archaic lever system amidst grunts and snorts and finally monkey this thing atop the van. Only, now I get the bright idea to do the same with the box spring and save a trip. Yeah, I'm a genius. So we monkey the box up there on top of the matress and we're both tired and grumpy. And now he's too tired to help me move it over there and into the apartment. Understandable, really. He had been kinda sick. So my mom decides to help me move it in. Angel-woman, I swear. It occurs to me as we're moving the bed into the apartment that the other tennants probably thought we were a family of modern-day vampires who were moving at night out of necessity. I have a little laugh as I cromagnon this thing into the living room and rest for a bit.

Yup, that's all I feel like writing at this moment in time.

Take care,

~L