Pyung has just informed me that we need to be out of the apartment by the 28th, not the 31st, which really isn’t very many days different but sort of is. I think I am going to have to move out of here and into the boys’ place in the barrio. A late night anxiety attack sort of shut down my Santa Monica option when I briefly decided to move back home and felt that it was necessary to send the obligatory “uh, I’m not moving in with you” email ASAP. Future roomie was cool and understanding, though when I wrote her back the next day trying to renege on my renege, she was understandably freaked and I have yet to hear from her. So it looks like that’s a bust. My endearing eccentricities just haven’t sunk in yet, I’m sure.

Tonight I ate pasta salad that I made the other day in preparation of the night like tonight when I would come home and be hungry. It was delicious. I am a forward-planning adult.

In other news, heather just got here and we are going to go get gelato and listen to one of the backstock boy’s bands sing. Farewell.

Today was my first day off in awhile. I’d been looking forward to it all week, planning on filling it with a healthy combination of doing nothing in exotic places (park, beach, pool) and doing lots of things in a short amount of time (clean apt, buy groceries, bake cupcakes). Instead, I woke up at 11, went out to breakfast, (pumpkin pancakes, mmm), and promptly came home and slept the rest of the day.

I’m awake now, and talking to a friend back East who is trying to get a job as a sports writer. He is brilliant, funny, an excellent writer, and very insightful—he’s beating out all the other applicants and getting interviews at top places. But everything sort of falls through—nothing is a perfect match. This saddens me. I want him to be happy and get a job, and I know he will. But man, following dreams is hard. Good thing I don’t have any, really. I just want to never have to have a real job and get paid to sit at home and write some things. And I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

Somehow, in a huge city of millions of people, I have fallen into a self-centered slump. I suppose it is to be expected--trying to figure out who you are and what you want to do and where you want to live is sort of a inward-centric process, but geez am I ready to be over myself already.

At work today, while folding the men's leisure shirts, I realized my mind is generally obsessed with one of four things.

1. should i break agreement with santa monica probable-future roomie? do i want to live in santa monica? where do i want to live? should i ignore my second-guessing of earlier decision? maybe should move in with the boys, or actress friend. or maybe just go home.
2. why am i working at clothing store
3. what kind of life job do i want
4. what kind of now job do i want
5. why am i in LA
6. what time is it? time to go?
7. i need to workout

Actually, I never think that I should be working out, but somehow that seemed like a natural addition to this list. Hmm. This is obviously a sign of what LA and its superficial view of all peoples has done to my psyche. Good thing I've taken to reading feminist pop-zines to help me realize the problem and counteract.

As car is dead, am riding bus to work tomorrow, so perhaps should go to bed in preperation for my journey. Godspeed.

A friend from home has been visiting for the past few days, and now that he's gone, depression abounds. That's not really true. But I miss being around a best friend and talking about home and home people and all things wonderful.

Past few nights has been lots of bars and fun and life and love and pursuit of happiness. Also, shopping. I bought a necklace made out of big blue and turquoise beads. I like it. My friend bought designer jeans and a designer bag and some sunglasses and one of everything in the store where I work. We took a lot of pictures and drove around the mountains with one of the roomies and went to a museum called the Getty and it was wonderful and lovely. Friend hates LA--thinks it's trash, minus the fab shops. His visit has thrown me for a loop, as now am harboring inner wishes to flee city and go home. Though I suppose these haven't been completely foreign thoughts--it's hard not to wonder what life would be like one the other coast when things here are so unstable and unsure.

Am trying not to think about things, as have no tools yet to figure them out.

Oh, and in other news, car doesn't start again. Universe is on my side, obvi.

Today was highlighter promotion day at le store. We all wore stuff from a new line that features clothes that are bright as highlighters, as the name implies. It was fun, especially when half of us ended up on break at the same time and were sitting out back attracting stares from passerby.

Whatever.

I helped some people buy some things. Lets see, what else. I folded a lot of tshirts and put them in bags. Folding is a very theraputic activity. I think I might like it.

Enough of that.

This morning I went by the Santa Monica Apartment to meet potential new roomie and see potential new apartment. The place is small. The door from outside opens into a living room, and shooting off from that is a pretty big kitchen with room for a table and chairs and a dead end hallway with a closet at the end and the bedroom and bathroom on each side. I would be living in the living room, which would mean no privacy, really. Would basically be like a railroad apartment--not so unlike the set-up I had at university. Rent is about 500 USD, all inclusive.

Earlier today this seemed like a big decision but now I think I'll take it. Is nice person and nice house in nice area near beach. Just have to run it by fam. But is in safe, quiet location but within walking distance to lots of good places, including the beach, and that is fab.

Lalala, hurrah!

Today was my first day off since last Wednesday. I slept in and breakfasted in my underwear while looking at the city and took a shower and went with the boys to sign their lease and ate a baja fish taco. It was pretty much fantastic. When our lease is up, the boys are moving into this apartment that is southwest of where we are now. It'll be good for them--more central to where they are working now. The landlord man was nice--I think he was Russian. He told the guys that if they are going to buy drugs, not to do it in the neighborhood, but to go to Hollywood. He says it's best to stay away from the neighbors. It's a working class neighborhood, which in LA means black and hispanic, so who knows if it's actually a rough neighborhood or if that's just prejudice at work. Anyway, the boys promised not to buy drugs from the neighbors, but the only people I saw around were little kids on trikes and roller skates, and somehow I don't think they'll be a problem. The apartment is big. Right now it's dirty because the last tenants just up and left. They left a lot of stuff there. Walking through it made me feel like I was in an episode of CSI--I kept waiting to stumble upon the body. Anyway, I won't be visiting again until it's clean, or at least not strewn with old washclothes and stuffed animals.

My own housing hunt is progressing fairly well. I think I might have found something in Santa Monica. I'm going to meet the girl this weekend, hopefully, and we'll see. Today I was talking to a friend back home about money and rent and adult things and we were trying to work on a budget for me. He said that if I stay at the store and don't get another gig, that the most I could spend on housing would be like 450 USD, and that would only leave me with 1.15 USD a day for food, budgeting, of course, for my monthly impoundment.

Yesterday I had fun at work--helped a lot of people, sold a lot of stuff, talked to some Australians. Slater from Saved by the Bell came in--Mario Lopez. A friend of mine was helping him, and he would be like, do you like this one--and then rip his shirt off--or this one. She rolled her eyes. I laughed. That Slater, he's hilarious.

Rent was due today. I didn't pay anything because my account is basically empty because my car got impounded again on friday because it broke down and I freaked out and left it in a parking lot overnight, which apparantly, is a big no-no and costs 287 USD plus approx four hours spent sitting on a curb in the sketchy part of Atwater and warding off scary men who approach claiming to be "dee autoritee" and asking about all the people living in the world. Sigh.

Good thing I have a job now to pay all my towing expenses. I worked everyday last week at the t-shirt store. All the standing and folding hurts my body. And all the skinny girls in hot shorts hurt my self-esteem. And the mindless work hurts my soul. The people I work with are super fantastico, though. So that's nice. Upside of job is money and people and free/cheap clothes. Downside is that it makes my life hurt and requires mundane tasks and zero-to-few brain cells. However, has made me appreciate my college education, which, until now, I had written off as obligatory and unhelpful in my future life. Boy was I wrong. To think that I could be folding shirts for life--shudder. Am lucky lady.

In other news, shopping for apartments is cumbersome. I heard back from a couple people last week, but missed my window because couldn't do anything because of work. I did go see one place--I loved the apartment and the girl who was offering up the room, but I didn't dig the location. Was in a purely residential neighborhood, removed from things--I want to be closer to the action, not further away. Last thing I need is another excuse never to leave my house. As if bed and Law and Order isn't enough.

Job situation has been getting me down lately and also money situation and--because I am an emotional eater--body situation also is blowing up (ha!). So basically, life right now is a cycle of buying cookies and fattening coffee drinks to comfort myself because am poor and fat, but the remedy is the poison, making le problems--money, tummy--worse. Lavender Mint iced tea, however, is delicious. Also, chocolate chip cookies the size of dinner plates.

I was going to quit my internship yesterday because I'm overwhelmed with working all the time and not having the fabulous time 24sev that I expected of early almost-adulthood. I reconsidered, however, because, duh, if I want to be a writer that's where I need to be. I did ask to cut down to one day, though. Need at least one day off in life. So I guess I half quit. Boss man is cool with decision. Understands all things.

I saw Mike White--Schneebly from School of Rock--at the movies last night. He was wearing a white shirt with some blue stripes and looked like he was, I don't know, twelve. I was barely starstruck. YES. Hollywooood.