I have an apartment in the middle of Orlando now. It's close to the airport, and downtown, and all the main roads. There are huge windows in every room (except the bathrooms) and they look out on a retention pond where turtles and ducks live, a grass-covered hill, and just past that a big, silver lake.

When something breaks I call management and they fix it for free. I love that. I love having beautiful landscaping that I don't have to maintain.

Sometimes I wish I still had my little house on the eastern edge of the county, but not often. This apartment is 200 square feet larger than the house I used to own. There's no garage, but there's a big balcony with a storage closet.

I'm not sure what my point is, here. It's a fresh new year and I want to start writing again, but I don't know where to start, so I'm throwing out something I'm superficially proud of. Here is this apartment. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms.

My daughter's room is lovely, with the crib and changing table on one side, a bed and dresser on the other side, ready for her to make that transition from baby to child. She can take her time on that, because I'm in no hurry to put her in a bed she can easily escape.

The living room is rockin: the big-screen TV and all the components Daryl left with me after the breakup because he was going to get bigger and better for himself, plus a couch that fully reclines and only came in that one color, plus a bookshelf and an old piano my mom gave me.

We're calling that big empty space next to the kitchen a "play room" because I don't have any dining room furniture.

My bedroom has another bookshelf, and a mattress and boxspring on the floor. This room is proof that I am still just a kid, too immature to run my own household. I could have bought some furniture, but I bought other stuff instead. Stuff I didn't really need, that cost as much as furniture, but doesn't last as long.

I'm not talking about heroin or anything like that, just regular crap. I spend too much at the grocery store, and then I eat at restaurants because I don't like to cook. I have so many cable channels I can find endless excuses to stay on the couch instead of working off this fat ass, or working at all.

Oh, yeah, it's not my money I'm wasting on stupid crap, because I've only worked six months out of the last two years, and Casey has been paying all the bills while I try to find myself and figure out a totally fulfilling life plan.

I find that I am an administrative assistant after all. I should send out some resumes and get a job like everybody else.

My New Years resolutions:
1. write something every day
2. get a job
3. build up a savings account
4. move to Atlanta
5. be in a position to write an entry for January 1, 2008 that is the complete opposite of this one. Well, not the completely opposite, because I guess that would be the "I'm Homeless" entry.

It's not that I am unhappy. I'm actually very content right now, which is part of the problem. My life is good, but my self needs lots of improvement!

I'm gradually starting to realize that some of the problems in my life might not have been caused by other people being jerks. They were caused by me being selfish and self-centered and incapable of empathy. So I'm working on that.