People think decorating a new apartment is fun. People think traveling is fun. These are two things I do not agree with. Having my new apartment being beautifully decorated is fun. BEING in another place is fun. Getting there is never fun because it involves LOTS of time, LOTS of mistakes, and in my case, LOTS of tears.

We're on week three, and the apartment is still so far from done, I'm starting to panic. It's starting to feel like it may never be done, and my books will remain in a bag rather than on a shelf. Boxes will replace furniture. Pictures will be in piles and not frames. Lighting will always be poor, casting miserable shadows on the walls. I feel like I may be forever surrounded by walls without framed paintings or posters. I feel like I'm going to always feel "temporary." Shit, if I wanted to be temporary, I would have stayed in a hotel because at least that is fully furnished.

Today I was SO determined. SO determined you don't even know. I got up early. I made out a list. I was going to apply to the gym, deposit some checks, get new glasses, figure out the bookcase situation, hang up the plants, put up my shelves...the works. It's now 6pm, and not a thing has been done. Well, that's not totally true. I put in my application to the gym and I deposited checks. Still, I feel like shit. No glasses yet, so I'm still rolling out of bed trying to pop these pieces of plastic into my dry, irritated eyeballs just so I can drive down the street. I attempted putting up shelves, but alas, I now have nothing but hideous holes in the wall, plaster spilling everywhere. I have to return ALL the great lighting fixtures I bought today (which took me like nine years sitting in that store to finally select) because there is no hardwiring in my goddamn ceiling.

So, I'm back home sitting in my dusty plaster, shelving shit leaning against the wall, in the dark, lifeless, shit of an apartment.

It's a nice apartment, don't get me wrong. And it's not empty by any means, but when details like these have gone on this long without being done, I feel like I'm going to absolutely lose my mind. And when I sat there, in my shadowy room with not a picture of a person I know set up in any cute countertop, I found myself withering into my own tears. I'm fucking sick of this room looking half done. I can't handle it at all.

There are so many shitloads of problems when moving to a new place, and I won't even MENTION the no-life factor because I don't want to commit suicide before I'm done writing this. For example, I drove around for over an hour today trying to complete these errands only to discover they could have all been done in 5 minutes because all the stores were located near each other. No, I was going to the only branches I knew of whatever store I needed , so I was going from town to town. I even looked them up online, but didn't know the street names so still didn't realize there were ones near each other.

I'd be driving down the street and I'd see 1st St. Knowing I need to find 3rd, I thought maybe I wasn't paying attention and I missed it, so I went down the next street to see if I could find 3rd some other way. But I didn't know if the numbers were going down or up, so once I'd reach a street that sounded familiar, that I thought maybe would connect with 3rd, I still didn't know if I should turn right or left. Endless U-Turns in horrible traffic. I never even know which way I'm supposed to go. I go the long way any time I go anywhere because if I don't, I won't know if I'm too far east, west, north or south from where I'm trying to go.

And the days just roll on. Faster and faster. And I'm feeling less and less productive no matter what I do. All this time, no jobs are coming my way. And when I feel miserabe enough after a full day and not making my situation at home any better, I can't even begin to look for jobs because I'm feeling way too shitty about myself to focus on writing impressive cover letters.

I'm telling you, when a home doesn't feel like your home, then you can't get another thing done. It's absolutely miserable. And now, I've given up for the day. Besides, it's rush hour in LA. I couldn't get anywhere if I tried. So, might as well stay here, in this "place" to which I have keys.

God, this shit sucks. I hate transition.

And I had all this funny shit to write about, but I can't bring myself to be positive.