Life from a Small Room.

Once I thought that if I ever had to live in a small, damp room in the city, with a flickering lightbulb dangling from the roof and the annoying sound of a drop constantly falling from the faucet, I was going to be alright. The reason? In this picture of stained bed sheets, cracked walls, and an incredibly skinny me in underwear I still had my laptop plugged and a explosion of ideas, images, and colors bursting from my head.
I currently rent a small, damp room in San Pedro. I either keep my door open to let the air in - in spite of the cold that comes with it at night, or confine myself to a moldy closed space that gets really stuffy after a while. I caught the flu and it has been really hard to recover partially because the room does not make recovery any easier. The location is great though - I couldn't be happier living around the hectic campus, and my light does not flicker; in that sense, it's not as bad as I pictured it. But is the typing and the storm of ideas present in my life? I owe myself big time in that part.
Gotta make this small room worth being here! Gotta get cracking with the writing!