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.