I want stuff

So I'm torn between my own petty materialism and my dreams of freelancing in the world of filmmaking. I gots a weakness for stuff. Not fancy stuff. Primarily used cheap furniture that I can paint or refinish, things like that. I'm really into making my home a nice place of my own design that's pleasant for me to live in. I wish I was just a gutterpunk to whom a chair is nothing but a sitting utensil, and if it's comfy at all that's just bonus. But noooo, I want a cute chair :( I blame my mother.

It all started (woobly-woop, woobly-woop) last week when my landlord, who lives downstairs, told me that his girlfriend is allergic to me living here now that I have 2 cats. 1 was OK, but 2 is not now. (After they approved me getting 2nd cat, and I am the kind of person who WILL NOT give the cat back for my own convenience, so that means all 3 of us are packing up our toys and gettin' the hell out, which I told him.) However, he said I am not kicked out yet, because things aren't going that well with them, and, well, they could break up any minute. (Oh yes, I hear the fighting.) So by fall either they will a) be broken up, so I can presumably stay, or b) be together forevah and buy a bigger house (it is dang small down there). Which leaves me... Looking around at apartments now, because by fall they're only going to get more scarce and more expensive and I'll be more desperate and then what? I'm sure they'll break up eventually, but I'm not sure they will by fall. They strike me as the masochistic types who will stay in a miserable relationship for years, making each other's lives hell.

Now, for the record, I am an evil bitch, because I would rather stay here, and I secretly hope they break up. I know... I'm BAD! I don't care about them, I just want my apartment! Or, you could say, I care about them and I SEE that they're UNHAPPY, and I just want them to be HAPPY! (Yeah, that one, sure.)

But I just found a place that is slightly less retardedly overpriced than most (hard to find ANYTHING in a 1-bd for less than $700 these days, but studios are mostly well over $500 -- and I must have my sleeping room able to be closed off from at least an equal-sized other room, because Neko pokes me in the head when I'm sleeping and I have to shut him out or I don't sleep!) It's technically a 2-bd (but one is supertiny -- office or workspace for me) for less than most 1-bds. It's in a weird area, but I think OK crime-wise (just not very residential except this small enclave of apt. buildings. More industrial, buildings with shipping docks and stuff. Nice coffee shops nearby, though, and a couple blocks from the film production/lab/rental/networking place I might join), and very centrally located to my current job and the metro area in general for freelancing. Very close to the main interstate that it takes me 10-15 min. to get to now. Basically, it's the only area I'm aware of that would work well both for where I work now AND the rest of the civilized, filmmaking metro (ahem, Minneapolis). BUT it's $615, which is a lot. But cheaper than any 1-bds I've found that aren't in the total ghetto. So I kind of want it. I'm going to just look at it next week.

However, it's really big -- living room, bedroom, dining room, 2nd bedroom thingy, kitchen, bathroom and balcony. I don't have that much stuff, I live in a studio! So I look on craigslist and I find all this cheap furniture I want. I have no immediate intention to live in this place, but I've got a dinette set, a patio set and a couch picked out! (All that for $155, however. I heart craigslist.) But $615 plus electricity plus internet (must have for freelancing) will be at least $675. Right now I pay $475 for all that! I'm fretting. Maybe I'll have some chocolate quick...

Ack, Neko has been staring at an invisible spot on the wall for like 10 minutes! Cats are creepy.

Damn, the chocolate didn't help. Now I just feel fat and fretty. But I do have the delicious taste of chocolate and creamy caramel in my mouth.

So if I kept this job I could afford that apt. no problem. But then of course I would die inside. I don't know when I'll be at the point where I can quit, however. I'm told I should break down and get roommates if I freelance. Well, cats are a monkey wrench there (no pun intended, as Neko is a monkey boy), as does my inherent hatred for people. Nooooo, I love people -- in smaller doses and when I KNOW I CAN ESCAPE AT ANY TIME. You lock me into a 12-month lease with some freakezoid and I canNOT be held responsible for my actions. No, truly, I jest, but it's about my mental wellbeing -- the times in my life when I've been the least happy, most depressed, most felt like I was waiting for my life to come along, because this day-to-day shit CANNOT be it, were when I lived with people. I need my space, BAD. And let's just say that I am no longer anything resembling friends with any of the 6 roommates I've had in my life. That's not even a coincidence, that's a direct causal relationship. If I'm around people too much, I stop liking them. Another reason I do not have a boyfriend.

(On a side note, I was thinking about past ones the other day and just wondering idly, what if? And the thought freaked the crap out of me. What if I was still with one of them now, say 5-10 years later? Holy shit, NO! There is no question in my mind that I would be miserable right now, and that I would NOT be pursuing my dreams in any fashion, even if it currently is a little weak. Misery does not love company -- you can get lonely at times when you're by yourself, but it's nothing like the hell of either loving someone who doesn't love you back enough, or discovering you don't love someone you thought you did or were supposed to -- or the even worse alternatives, finding out everything is a lie or realizing they were using you all along. UGH, my stomach turns just thinking about it.)

So what do I do now? I rant. Because what else is there?

I'll go look at the place... I've been wanting an apartment I could see myself staying in long-term. I'll never buy a house (yeah, commitment problems, anyone?), but I would like a place I feel like I'll stay with for a while, now that I'm an old adult-type person, plus moving sucks. I really want a room I can do art/craft crap in (hard to do with cats -- pawprints are not cute when they're permanent), and to me for some reason, the difference between an apartment and a home seems to be a dining room. Basically, this apartment is everything I've been wanting. So maybe it's fate.

GOD, someone in here's got gas, and it is not me. I can't tell which one it's coming from, but EW. Pew steenky boyz!