...wondered how tomorrow could ever follow today...

Forgive the cheesy Led Zeppelin lyrics in the title arena, but there's just not enough snark in my step today for witticisms. I'm faced with the very real reality of moving to California and I'm overwhelmed with questions and concerns. I've been trying to enjoy New York in all its free summer glory, but its not distracting enough.

I mean, look at what I'm doing right now:

In case you didn't catch that, it's a map of LA, craigslist for shitty restaurant jobs, the used car I want to buy, and Yelp LA. What if I just can't handle it? What if I'm not ready for this? How can I make myself better prepared? 

I want to apologize for the direction this blog has been taking lately, I'm all *wah wah, my life is changing, I don't know what to do, help help, wah wah*. But you're cheaper than therapy so keep reading. Please?

I think I'm doing that thing that people do when they're getting ready to leave something or someone where they detach from it and pick fights. New York, you bitch, you're getting fat and you never call enough, fuck you. I used to do this at camp when I was twelve, you remember, you probably did it too, you'd know there was only another few weeks/days/hours, whatever left, so you'd start getting mad at your friends and you'd tell them you hated them and that you weren't going to be friends next summer and that you knew they kissed blankity blank and didn't tell you and you just wanted to feeecking kill her for it. That bitch. That's what I'm doing to New York right now. Kind of. I mean, I haven't been walking around in a track suit mumbling to myself or anything, but I just haven't been able to enjoy the city. I found everything wrong with the movie in Bryant Park tonight, I picked fights with Brooklyn Bridge Park last night, and I almost cut the subway's hair while she was sleeping this weekend. I exaggerate, but I don't know how to stop. I want to love it here, I do love it here, I just need to make myself hate it a little bit so I can go without spending the last week crying and pulling my hair out and hoarding marshmallow fluff under my pillow and staying up all night eating it–oh, wait, that was summer camp again. I'm going to cry and pull my hair out.

What am I doing?

A