Ok in my rosy little world, apartments are *clean* when a new tenant moves in. I'm not talking swiping all horizontal surfaces with a cloth here, I'm talking top to bottom spotless. I'm talking about the new tenant not finding hair in every nook and cranny. I'm talking about floors that *shine* with a good mopping and fresh wax. I'm talking about walls that have been either washed or have new paint. I'm talking about kitchen cupboards that don't smell like rancid oil. I'm talking about moving into a space that is fresh and ready to be turned into a home.

I'm fucking fed up. This apartment is a great space, and once all the shit that I don't think is my fucking responsibility is done I can get started on making this space truly a home. I'm sick and tired of finding short black hair EVERYWHERE. (Mike, Sara and I are blonde and all our visitors have long hair). I'm fed up with opening my kitchen cupboards and getting hit with the smell of something gone bad, after I've scrubbed out these cupboards several times.

There is tar leaking out of our walls. It's a byproduct of having a smoker live here, I know this. But why the fuck is it my problem to scrub the walls? Why is it up to me to scrub off the lovely drawings of a child that isn't mine? Heh, if Sara ever drew on the walls, she'd also be scrubbing said drawings OFF.

*sighs* I know I'm being idealistic here. It's the way I was raised, tho. When you move out of somewhere, you leave the place in *better* condition then when you got it. In other words, fucking spotless. And if the tenant before doesn't do it, the landlord should.

I know why it comes down to me to do this. Because I'm the one that cares. Also because I didn't make a fuss when we were doing the walk through and everything I pointed out was brushed off. That was a pleasure, I got the distinct impression that I was considered an anal retentive bitch. So instead of doing myself proud and demanding that *everything* was put down, and that there was the expectation that this space would be clean I shut up and played nice. That's why it's now up to me to clean this apartment top to bottom. BEFORE I can really set anything up properly.

I'm not going to forget the good parts of being here, but I won't deny myself the ability to be pissed off. While I'm at it, how fucking long does it take these morons to do anything? Our buzzer has been broken for 2 weeks, and when I mentioned it a second time to the handyman (who is a completely awesome guy) he told me our landlady said "how do we know it's broken?"... um, because we said it was? Oh and btw, it's pretty freaking easy to change the names on the apartment buzzer listing. Care to do that sometime in the next decade? I already did the one in the mailbox, took me 2 minutes with Word. *grr*

Now I'm going to take my idealistic ass back into the hallway and continue cleaning.

I received my course materials today from ILC. I looked through them briefly, set them aside and ignored their existence for the rest of the afternoon. I'm now enrolled in Studies in Literature, OAC English. I wanted to take Writer's Craft again, but my mom strongly suggested the Studies in Literature course as prep for applying to UofW English. She knows her courses, and her work. Any failings my mom may have, she's a good teacher and loves her subject.

So here I am. Enrolled in a course that focuses on Essay writing and analysis. Enh. Mom and Mike have said I can do this, and ace the course to boot. Me? I'm not so sure right now. The last time I wrote an analytical essay was... um, 1994? The apartment is still in a state of chaos. I have to set up Sara's room. Our clothes aren't completely unpacked yet.

I have excuses coming out my ass. Bottom line is I'm scared. What if I crash into depression? I can't even feed myself when it's bad, much less write essays. What if I fail? There's the main fear. What if I fail? The wise, calm part of me says "You do it again. There's no shame in failing, only in quitting." Then there's the part of me that's been called a fuck up since I was born. The voice that says "Of course you'll fail. 'cause you're a loser and will never amount to anything more than you are now. How dare you even think of going to University?!?! You barely graduated High School."

Heh. After all the years spent in Therapy. The years spent writing, working on myself and baring my soul... and the voice is as strong as it was when I started. *shrugs* Now it feels like I've handed it a box full of ammunition. Very little can hurt me more than doubt in my ability to think. It's one of the few things I refused to give up of my self-regard. Linda is smart. Period. I can be all the other shitty things people can and have said about me, but by god, if nothing else, I'm fucking smart.

So right now by starting this course I'm opening myself up again to the voice and the criticisms of other people. "High School is so easy compared to University." *sighs* It's not looking easy from my perspective. I haven't been in school in 7 years. I look at this course and I feel so panicked. Not only do I have to complete it, I have to ace it. Heh. I'd have to be pretty fucking stupid to fail a High School course, eh?

Yesterday we got cable hooked up, and digital cable too. :) More and more this space is becoming home. I think I'm going to tape down the cables today. *Shrugs*

I should get moving, have my shower and head out to the mall. Sitting on my desk right now is the envelope holding my application to ILC. I'm going to get a second english OAC before applying to UofW. I've been pounding it out with Mikeand my Mom what the best course of action would be in regards to my education. Mom thinks I need to upgrade my English marks before applying to UofW. She was over yesterday to hang out, and I had her look at my HS transcript and the ILC website. I figure she's the best person to ask as she's been teaching English since '62, and adult education for a decade of that.

It's strange looking at my transcript. My marks *sucked* with the exception of my shop classes. Makes me wonder if going for English at Uof W is the best course... maybe I should be looking at College and a trade? I know I want to teach. Do I have what it takes to become an English teacher? Shit, I don't know. =/

What does a person have to do to become a shop teacher? I have no idea. Heh. I could search out one of my old teachers and *ask*, now couldn't I? Sheesh.

Heh, Mr. Jones is still teaching at Cameron.

anyways, shower time. :)