(Note: This entry was written yesterday, but thanks to unreliable internet borrowed from an unsuspecting neighbor, I wasn't able to actually post it.) In the immortal and unforgettable words of a no doubt popular but less-than-rememberable movie star (at least for me, in my exhausted state), "I have arrived!"

Los Angeles's population has officially grown by one more person. Me. And, while devoid of some things that had to be left behind, and a very special someone, I feel like I'm off to a pretty good start. I base this observation on the fact that I'm still alive, and am in my new place of residence.

The drive in wasn't too bad, except for the last hundred miles or so into the city. When all of a sudden, the highway has six lanes instead of two, and ends up packed with cars whose average speeds range anywhere from 30 to 90 mph. Driving in LA was one of my big concerns with regard to moving here, but I made it through the city successfully somehow. I only had my side mirrors to rely on, because my car was so full of boxes and clothes and such. But I found myself not only being a defensive driver, but also an offensive one. You really have to throw your weight around to get anywhere in this place. Damn.

Next on the agenda: learning the area a bit, testing out the waters some more. I didn't have much drive to do that today, mainly because driving for two hours in the city wiped all the energy out of me. I feel literally like a fish who was flung from the ocean by a wave, and I'm flopping around on shore trying to get back in the water. I blame that mostly on the sheer tiredness that has overcome me. Tomorrow will bring newness and should be good.

But first, the pillows are beckoning. And I don't have the power to fend off their siren song any longer.