zzzzz...

I'm writing this entry crouched over my computer which is placed on a 2-foot high couch end-table, sitting in an old desk chair depressed to its lowest possible height setting, with a alarmingly cluttered mound of my belongings to my left and the futon (my bed) to my right. All my earthly possessions in about 20 square feet. Living the dream. And my back hurts.

But Wednesday is a big day. I move in to a place with a dude named Tassa (South African) in Santa Monica, which brings me dangerously close to the beach. So close, in fact, that I might have to suffer through endless nights of sea-breeze related injuries and maladies. I also start one of my classes. One which has a couple prerequisites, which I have - in no way or form - taken. I'm too tired write more now, but more updates and stories to follow. I have to finish my review of the Chevy Silverado 1500, before I get fired from the only source of employment I have. There's a very fine line between living the dream and dreaming the life. You just gotta have good balance.