OK, starting your own business is not as easy as I thought. Thursday I had a meeting with the small business administration, and that went well. Apparently I will not be making any money, however, seeing as all of it will go to the governmental department of THE MAN. I have to pay self employment tax, sales tax, there's a fee to register my business name, some other fees for vendors licenses, a fee because I'm right handed. Well, you get the point. But I'm very excited. zha came over last week and we moved almost all of his art that was residing at other residences into my apartment. We catalogued and organized a lot. It was a very productive day. Next Thursday will be much the same. And at some point (meaning within the next two mornings--that's the only time I have off of work), I need to start contacting people to get shows set up for him. I don't really want to rent a gallery space, so I'm hoping to sell most of the art through these shows. When I move to LA, I'll probably get a space, but I'd like to save as much as I can for that so I don't have to take out a business loan. Which is a whole other can of worms. This whole endeavor is going to be incredibly difficult, especially since I work full time. I don't have as much time as I'd like to devote. But I did drop my class. Which was an incredibly hard decision. I mean, I loved it last quarter. And if I had the same teacher, I'd be willing to do all of this at the same time. But I had a woman who wasn't teaching us anything. Last Tuesday we were supposed to have a test over unit 5. We hadn't even touched unit 5. So, I needed to remove unnecessary items from my plate, and the signing class was first to go. Which actually does free up more time to devote to my art dealings.

Last night I saw The Laramie Project at WSU. It was very good. Chuck Derry, my acting for film/tv prof, was the director. And the directing was fabulous. Actually, the whole show was damn good. It's just that last winter, our modern class did monologues from the show and whenever someone on stage spoke, I was putting my classmates in their place. Distracting. Then Tosh, Anna, zha, Jesse, and I met at the OE, and came back to my place to socialize. Jesse had to leave for his llama farm by 6 am. I just like to type llama. But he really does work with llamas. (hehe) Enough. So Anna stayed the night (she was in town from Wooster/Mansfield) and left today to hang out with Kristin. (more people I graduated with) When we were at the OE, zha decided that Tosha and I were going out. Which is funny, because a few hours earlier, I was thinking about how we interacted with each other. We call to chat even when there's nothing to talk about. We ask how each other's day went, even if we read about it online. We usually talk right before we go to bed, sort of a tucking-in thing. So I can see where he was coming from.

And I don't think the guy upstairs is the same one who's been above me since I first moved in. Once, over the summer, I was at work and Paul was here, and he mentioned that he thought the guy above me was moving out. I never asked why, was there a moving van, etc. I actually never even thought about it. But I myself never saw anything. Then, a few weeks after Paul said something, it sounded like they were building a new apt. Which may have been them cleaning up the place and installing new kitchen stuff, etc. Plus I was gone for two weeks in December, so someone could have easily moved in without me knowing it. Anybutt, why do I think this is not the same neighbor, even though I've never met anyone in the three other apartments around me? Because this guy is LOUD. And not just with the sex (which was just the one time, and then a second when they actually woke me up in the middle of the night), he also walks around in lead boots. And drops heavy objects. And rearranges his furniture often. And talks on the phone. And plays music. The other guy just watched Nascar races every once in a while. I feel like the downstairs neighbor on Friends. This morning, when Upstairs Guy was moving stuff around, I had to suppress the urge to knock on his door and ask if he needed any help.