I keep thinking about how it’s going to feel to be in my own space; waking up in a different apartment filled with just my energy and no one else’s.
I am not sure right now what it will be like. I know it will be considerably smaller, I’ll be losing roughly 400 square feet of living space. The bedroom is tiny compared to what I’ve grown accustomed to over the last five years, and I contemplate on an hourly basis how I’m going to get my very large bedroom furniture into my new bedroom. I’m going from an 11-by-14 room to one that’s roughly 10-by-12. Now this might not sound like it’s a huge difference, but when you lose roughly four feet of wall space, putting a 60-inch wide bed with two 30-inch wide nightstands on either side, well, it equals exactly ten feet, and it also resembles the one and only wall I can place my bed against because the others are taken by windows or a door. I’ve never been good with arranging furniture and I really wish the room was of a size I could accurately fung-shui the whole thing by placing the bed caddy-corner in the room, but doing that, nothing else will fit. So, that’s problem #1. Trying to figure out how exactly I’m going to set up the room because it’s not only the bed and nightstands, but also my 36 inch wide armoire, my 76 inch long ladies dresser and my hope chest to fit in there too. For some distinct reason, I think one of my nightstands will somehow end up as an end table. What a fitting ending, huh?
Then, the rest of the space just becomes academic. The couch fits against a wall, there’s room for my TV, and a bookcase strategically placed next to my four-seat kitchen table, in which that little table waves like a Broadway stage manager, indicating the final curtain call for the 12 seat monstrosity that has dominated my dining space for the last 7 years.
The horrid antique buffet is saying goodbye as well, destined for my storage space along with the monstrous dining table. It’ll be the final goodbye to everything belonging to my ex. I am not sure yet if it will feel like things are missing, but only time will tell on that. The only thing I keep thinking about is all of the garbage I’m going to get to throw out that I’ve been dying to do and have been doing since I knew I was going to be changing spaces. It’s going to feel so good to purge my life of all of the unnecessary things (like the French version of Scrabble) I’ve had in my apartment for so long.
The only thing I regret saying goodbye to is the huge desk that I’ve been writing from since the bomb went off. I’ll miss the ample space for my printer, my computer’s tower and my plethora of little desktop goodies, but the plan is to just put my computer on my kitchen table. It’s not like I’m going to be entertaining or anything in the new space, but there’s simply not enough wall space to put the six-foot-long, four-foot-wide desk anywhere in the apartment. These are the moments I wish for a laptop, but it’s nothing compared to my beautiful tower and widescreen monitor. So, to the kitchen table it goes, with my big foofy chair going right on the end of the table. Like I said, I’m not expecting guests, and if people do decide to show up, they’ll understand the placement due to the limited space. I can always move the monitor off the table should the unbelievable happen and I entertain. The bonus to having the computer in my living space is that it will be with the rest of the apartment, not sequestered to just one small room. I’ll be in my living room, doing just what the name implies, living.
The kitchen is small, but I’m used to that, it’s not going to be that much of a change or shock, but it will be nice to get snacks quickly from the fridge or countertops from my nice new workspace.
The artwork is going to be fun this time around. I’m keeping the two posters that I direly want with me for the rest of my life. Lichtenstein’s “The Drowning Girl”:
Most of the people who have seen this hanging in my bedroom find it rather morose, only seeing a woman drowning in a sea of tears. For me, it’s absolutely empowering, reminding me that I should always strive to be self-reliant and move through life under my own power.
The second is one I found at my local Michael’s craft store. A poster by Norman J. Wyatt that simply reads:
And that one poster says so much, it’s unbelievable. It’s my constant search to find things to love, people to share love with, find an overall love of life and more to the point, embrace my inner Porthos and have a lust for life. Love is so powerful, it overrides everything else, so to have a simple poster with four letters that mean so much, yeah, that’s me. When my depression is kicking me while I’m down, just looking at that poster makes me take a deep breath and realize that love is what we live for. While other people live their lives completely oblivious of the fluffy white clouds upon the perfect blue sky above them, and forget to enjoy the sun on their face, I’m completely consumed with the need to make sure I take a moment to look around every day and see the things everyone else takes for granted; laughing at what I’m seeing while they’re so busy. Every day, I watch as people have their noses down into their cell phones, surfing the web or texting their friends or just being busy trying to survive that they forget to live and look around at what’s around them.
What makes me laugh hardest when I’m out at school or out in the world running errands and such is that people forget what it is to be kind to someone else. I was driving home from school last Tuesday after picking up my books and saw two identical Lincoln Navigators decide to cut people off, completely oblivious that there was life outside of their suburbs, soccer practice and their extraordinarily expensive, gas-guzzling, environment-destroying luxury SUV. Instead of getting upset, I just laughed and looked out the window of my car, to the beautiful mountains in the distance. It’s about appreciating those little things I guess. It’s like the dirt from the other day, it’s seeing the really good things that are unfortunately ignored.
But, I can’t ignore the fact I’m moving in exactly seven days and I’ve already made a half a billion phone calls trying to get movers set up. By this time next week, I’ll be writing from a brand new setup that *I* set up (thanks to a bit of perseverance and a nod to the ex who came through for me).
It’s time to dig in, pitch out, box up, take stock of what I think is important and move. And whether it’s changing spaces or whathaveyou, it’s always moving in one steady direction: