Getting started is the hardest part.

Self-explanatory title is self-explanatory.

I feel like the last couple weeks have gone fairly quickly. Which is strange, considering I've really done nothing with them. Work and sleep, man. Work and sleep.

Still no apartment. I'm back to looking, and I have a couple places to call about tomorrow on my day off. The financial constraints are making this incredibly difficult, but, for once, I'm not letting that stop me. But I seriously do wish I had a roommate. That would make finding an apartment so much easier - location, rent, the whole shebang. But it's a goddamned shame that it would be even harder for me to find a roommate than it is to find a place to live. If I can't make friends or get a date (which I can't), it stands to reason that I can't find someone to live with, either. I know a handful of people I could stand, but could they stand me? Ay, there's the rub. That's why I'll fly solo for now and see where it goes.

Abrupt topic change!

In a recent conversation about life experience, or the lack thereof, I was presented with the idea of "making up for lost time." Now... I'm not going to say I've never thought about it. Flipping a switch and deciding I'm going to climb mountains and jump out of planes and fuck everything with a pulse for a few months until I feel like I've sufficiently "lived." But that's not really me. As evidenced by the fact that I never did any of that to begin with. So as much as I feel like there are a lot of things I haven't done, or at the very least didn't do at a more "normal" time, I don't feel the need to pack them all into a shorter window just to say I did them. I'm pretty comfortable with skipping all that entirely. It'd be lovely if that's how it worked, but instead I have the 16-year-old awkwardness at 28.

I'm too tired for tidy resolutions at the moment. I might be too tired for that always. Keeps things interesting. Or something.

Anyway. This was rather pointless. And now I'm going to bed.