London

I sometimes wonder if i'm going to make it in London. I sometimes wonder if I will end up going at all...

It's a scary prospect - the idea of packing up and 'winging it' in a new city. The ideas of finding an apartment, a job and actually earning money in a city/world that's completely foreign to me makes me anxious. Sometimes I wish I hadn't told anyone... At the same time, I can't wait to go.

I just want to end the year/years/months in the green, not in the red. I still need to find out things like what I expect to earn, as well as what I expect to pay in taxes, fees, bills, etc. Sometimes I think it would be easier to move out here first, but I still stand by my theory that it makes much more sense to purchase a home rather than rent.

I wonder how long the idiots who are faxing me shit will keep trying...whatever they are doing, it's not working...

Spent last night at M's house with his roomate, a little Indian guy. H asked me to go with her, as H and M kissed on New Years Eve and she wasn't sure 'what it all meant'. Turns out, it meant nothing as I had suspected. I figured that all M wanted was something with a pair of lips, and H happened to have a pair of lips. M is gay, or at least bi (maybe even questionning...) anyways. But, of course, since H likes to assume that anything with a penis loves her, I spent the drive home listening to her attempt to corner me in the conversation into saying "yes, he probably kissed you because he has deep feelings for you and wants to get in your pants". Which, of course, I wouldn't say, because I think that it was just a fleeting kiss and he doesn't have romantic feeling for her... which she just didn't want to hear.

Oh the drama....

And, of course, H hasn't even begun to pack up her disaster of a room, which she only owns until the 17th of January. That's right children, the 17th. As in, exactly two weeks from now. To pack up, oh let's see... a couple dozen boxes worth of shit. And that's what it is. Shit. Garbage: Magazines, papers, craft stuff, beauty products.... tons.

Sometimes I'm thankful that I don't drive, that way she can't ask me to pack/ship stuff for her while she's gone. How would I get it to the post office??