Fun with self-pity!

I need money. Oh, god, do I need money. I wish I could sell my kidney. I have two, after all. I'm getting ejected from the house in September, which is nice, since originally I was going to be kicked out in July, but that passed. Yay. But as of September, I have to fork over 500 dollars a month to enjoy the privilege of living in the garage, doing chores, and abiding by rules that are curiously less stringent than my 'foster-sister' is guided by. It's not going to happen. I'll sleep in doorways and lift wallets before I'll give my parents a cent. Obviously, the 500 dollar rent was not intended to be paid. They expect me to pack up my things and get out of here in three weeks, and the 'rent' is a metaphorical foot to my ass nudging me out the door.

I'm making about 500 a month. I might be able to rent a room for five hundred, though I can't afford to pay a deposit. I also won't be able to buy food, neccessities, or bus-tickets, since all my money will be sucked into having a room. The dreadfulness is much enhanced by the fact that I can only take what I can carry in a back-pack (I don't own a suitcase. I guess I could use several backpacks, or a pillowcase. Or a handkerchief on a stick. Whatever). So I probably will end up splitting my time between a motel and Stephen and Lindsay's hospitality. While roughing it has it's charms, I like having a bed.

Stephen suggested that I apply to Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf in the mall, because they are hiring, and I might be able to bend my schedule at the video store to fit with a second job. If I actually work up the sheer nerve it would take to get an escort license (a blood test and about twenty-five bucks, and you're set. Fuck, I hate blood tests.), I may have other job possibilites which I can cover my rent with. Even if I can't figure out how to work a cash register, I'll always have breasts. Thank you, god, for providing me with a constant source of somewhat degrading livelihood.

So, if I work two and a half jobs, I can definately get an apartment and things I can live with. I'll be in permanent zombie mode from lack of sleep, but I'll have an apartment!

Wow. This sucks a lot. I'm having trouble sleeping because I keep panicking over what I'm going to do, and fretting about college acceptance. I'm being bitchy to Meg and Mommy and Daddy and others because I'm a big bundle of raw nerves. This is very bad.