Coming up on my last month in my first true apartment, I'm already starting to feel a bit nostalgic to be leaving, especially as the Hawthorne tree outside my bedroom begins to show a little color and the birds return to the branches and remind me that getting up early doesn't have to be difficult.
I'll have lived here exactly one year. May 1, 2007-May 1, 2008 (give or take some move-in time on either end). Throughout the time I've been here, I've:
- Experienced two vastly different roommates, plus Andrew's two-month sojourn and few token couchsurfers' stays
- Amassed a large quantity of *stuff* which I am now faced with having to go through, pack up or purge, and move
- Built memories and favorite idiosyncrasies (and muscles from carrying my bike up and down the stairs each day)
- Come to appreciate or at least put up with the neighborhood noises (our morning cryer is walking past as I type, yelling his incomprehensible stream of swear words as he stumbles past. I've watched the dog next door grow from a baby-cry puppy to a barking teenager, who's recently shed his surgical head-cone and seems happier in his backyard explorations.
- Enjoyed having Gordon just downstairs, playing his guitar loud enough for me to hear its muffled chords through the floorboards. He's one reason I was hesitant to move, despite the fact that we rarely hang out any more, much less enjoy good foreign movie rentals like the summer months provided. It's funny how the comfort of what you know can keep you somewhere, even if it's ceased to be more than just familiarity.
- Cleaned and scrubbed and cooked and eaten in our little kitchen, whether with Gretchen or Andrew or couchsurfers or friends.
-------------------------
HOWEVER... It dawns on me that new things are good for excitement, shaking up the "comfortable" home-body life I seem to have sunk into. The new house is cute, with new opportunities, new people, new stories, and new challenges. It's also only four months long, leaving me with more incentive to up and go to Ireland without money or a plan besides to live with Andrew, help out around the house, and dream of visiting Martina, Heather, and hopefully some goats.
Or... if that falls through... find a new situation and a new life here in Portland, find a new job and a new destiny come AmeriCorps' completion in early August. That would be the logical thing to do. But I'm torn between the adventuresome 20s and the desire to pursue a distinct (and yet currently unknown) direction and solidify my career future. But that's a musing for another time.
Currently, I'm hoping to get down a list of THINGS THAT WORKED in this little Center Street apartment, as well as some of the things that didn't... A little "railroad," if you will, to help keep track of possible futures...
So...
Things that worked...
- The dining room table. Small enough for the space (though the four chairs seemed crowded sometimes) and yet large enough for four people to eat around, this become one of the central "hot-spots" of the apartment. Of course, this also meant that it was a dropping ground for all sorts of things: mail, groceries, books, newspapers, computers, recipes, GRE study, and more. Not quite sure how to remedy that. However, the main reason it worked, I believe, was that it was easily accessible (near the front door), attached to the kitchen (e.g. easy access to food), near an outlet (for computers, speakers) and heat (key in the winter months), and because it doubled as an eating spot *and* a hang-out, get-things-done spot, it's piles were always in transition and more likely to be looked through and moved/sorted/taken care of. Most of the time, that is. Reasons I sit here? The large window gives natural light. I have more room to spread out than on my small bedroom desk. There is easy opportunity for socializing over a cup of tea, or talking with whomever is cooking up something good, or even taking a break to read the newspaper while things boil away on the stove. Negatives? The wobbly chairs and tabletop; the piles that sometimes don't go away; the lack of space for storing napkins; the proliferation of candles and little do-dads that over-decorated the top; the fact that mail piled up here and not on the little desk "assigned" to incoming piles.
- The cookbook bookshelf. Right next to the kitchen, easy access to all books, diningroom table within easy reach to sit down and glance through recipes. Negatives? So many books, it can be overwhelming to choose one... I always go for the Joy of Cooking by default. Gets piles on top. Household books and flyers, etc. are often drowned within the cookbooks and forgotten.
- Our wall of tea. I'm not sure if this will ever be replicatable, but the built in shallow square shelves were *perfect* for our massive tea collection (36 boxes/baggies/tins at current count). And being so visible, it reminded us of our options and encouraged hydration every time we walked by. It also made it fun and easy to pick out tea flavors when guests were over, as they simply needed to "peruse the wall." This'll be one of the little details I will surely miss!
- Trees outside the windows.
- Sleep-able futon in the livingroom.
- Bikes in the front of the house.
- Maps on the wall.
- Calendars on wall.
Things that didn't work so well...
- Front door drop-spot
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Thursday, March 20, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Post #1: I have begun
So it's been nearly a year since my last post to the European Adventures blog. And recently I've been itching - yet inhibited - to start writing again as a way to document life, sort out thoughts, get creative, and think on the page. Perhaps I'm also fearing the loss of my written forté as I drift farther and farther from the schooled life that once consumed me.
Where am I now? Well, currently sitting in my half-piled queen-sized bed, contemplating my rumbling tummy, madrigal books, and yet-to-be-started application for food stamps.
Where am I in the larger scheme of things? That depends on whether one asks the question philosophically, informationally, or practically. On the earthly level, I am just over half way finished with an AmeriCorps term of service with Hands On Greater Portland, as the Partner Services Coordinator. I am near broke, and somewhat anxious about it, but in the long run, not too worried (for better or for worse). Thanks to my job, I have an unusually broad grasp of most of the nonprofit organizations in town, and yet feel no closer to understanding which nonprofit direction I hope to head in the future.
I am contemplating goats and the fabrication of goat cheese. March 2009 internship? Peut-être.
I am contemplating Ireland and a return to Andrew. Fall 2008 move, with little money and no hope for legitimate work? Possibly.
I am contemplating my hands. My head. And how they would like to learn to work together to create a tangible future. Cob building? Gardening? Vermicompost? Baking? Cooking? Re-using? Creating? Categorizing? Building? Massaging? I want to be one of those women. Common to Portland, but not the extremes. A special mix of down-to-earth, warm, organic, handy, passionate, intelligent, doing, loving, clever, funny, soft, lightly wrinkled, tough, and moraled by a respect for life in its many forms.
I would prefer not to be an anxious, stagnant obfuscation.
Tonight I was amidst a family that felt so familiar. Partially because I have known similar families before (Anya's when growing up came to mind... Kass and her bread, her jars, her warmth and smile). But partially because I saw what I care about click into place like cogs on a earth-moral wheel. Read aloud... click. Creativity... click. Outdoors... click. Psychotherapist... click. Writer... click. Loves to draw... click. Dirty blond hair... click. Whole foods vegetarian... cuh...click. And racing toy cars, plunking out songs, packing in jars, and the baby guinea pigs in the corner.
Sometimes I think I need to make a list (perhaps that's what I'm doing) to document all my "family crushes" "grandmother crushes" "child crushes" and what it is that gives me that warm fuzzy feeling. Crush is probably not the right word to use, for fear of expressing a different sort of sentiment. But when I use "crush" I mean the warm tingly feeling of adolescence when you get nearly giddy because something just feels good. These days, however, my crushes come in the form of hip older ladies I'd aspire to be like, sweet curious kids I'd aspire to have, warm cozy families I'd hope to create.
I remember now. I used to call it "grandma envy," though envy and crush seem to describe two different sides of the same emotional fabric. The giddy of crush connotes a certain hopefulness... and the stab of envy seems to sink the stomach with the knowledge that the hoped-for will never be.
So perhaps my sentiment is a mix, as I both dream of possible futures and lament the qualities I feel would be hardest to come by naturally. Like the simplicity of an uncluttered home. The inner motivation to complete a novel. The laid back ease of a mother with her family, undaunted by the ticking of the clock or the stove left on.
Tonight I left feel hope. I felt energized to take on the new and follow that familiar scent to a path hidden just under the brush. I was calm (meaning unstressed) and enlivened.
It was because they were both writers that I began this blog tonight.
Let me be open to possibility and draw words from the experiences of each day. I sometimes forget that ever moment can be a "learning moment," if only one takes the time.
My tummy still rumbles, my madrigals await, and the form has yet to be filled out.
Tomorrow's suggestion?
READ ALOUD.
Where am I now? Well, currently sitting in my half-piled queen-sized bed, contemplating my rumbling tummy, madrigal books, and yet-to-be-started application for food stamps.
Where am I in the larger scheme of things? That depends on whether one asks the question philosophically, informationally, or practically. On the earthly level, I am just over half way finished with an AmeriCorps term of service with Hands On Greater Portland, as the Partner Services Coordinator. I am near broke, and somewhat anxious about it, but in the long run, not too worried (for better or for worse). Thanks to my job, I have an unusually broad grasp of most of the nonprofit organizations in town, and yet feel no closer to understanding which nonprofit direction I hope to head in the future.
I am contemplating goats and the fabrication of goat cheese. March 2009 internship? Peut-être.
I am contemplating Ireland and a return to Andrew. Fall 2008 move, with little money and no hope for legitimate work? Possibly.
I am contemplating my hands. My head. And how they would like to learn to work together to create a tangible future. Cob building? Gardening? Vermicompost? Baking? Cooking? Re-using? Creating? Categorizing? Building? Massaging? I want to be one of those women. Common to Portland, but not the extremes. A special mix of down-to-earth, warm, organic, handy, passionate, intelligent, doing, loving, clever, funny, soft, lightly wrinkled, tough, and moraled by a respect for life in its many forms.
I would prefer not to be an anxious, stagnant obfuscation.
Tonight I was amidst a family that felt so familiar. Partially because I have known similar families before (Anya's when growing up came to mind... Kass and her bread, her jars, her warmth and smile). But partially because I saw what I care about click into place like cogs on a earth-moral wheel. Read aloud... click. Creativity... click. Outdoors... click. Psychotherapist... click. Writer... click. Loves to draw... click. Dirty blond hair... click. Whole foods vegetarian... cuh...click. And racing toy cars, plunking out songs, packing in jars, and the baby guinea pigs in the corner.
Sometimes I think I need to make a list (perhaps that's what I'm doing) to document all my "family crushes" "grandmother crushes" "child crushes" and what it is that gives me that warm fuzzy feeling. Crush is probably not the right word to use, for fear of expressing a different sort of sentiment. But when I use "crush" I mean the warm tingly feeling of adolescence when you get nearly giddy because something just feels good. These days, however, my crushes come in the form of hip older ladies I'd aspire to be like, sweet curious kids I'd aspire to have, warm cozy families I'd hope to create.
I remember now. I used to call it "grandma envy," though envy and crush seem to describe two different sides of the same emotional fabric. The giddy of crush connotes a certain hopefulness... and the stab of envy seems to sink the stomach with the knowledge that the hoped-for will never be.
So perhaps my sentiment is a mix, as I both dream of possible futures and lament the qualities I feel would be hardest to come by naturally. Like the simplicity of an uncluttered home. The inner motivation to complete a novel. The laid back ease of a mother with her family, undaunted by the ticking of the clock or the stove left on.
Tonight I left feel hope. I felt energized to take on the new and follow that familiar scent to a path hidden just under the brush. I was calm (meaning unstressed) and enlivened.
It was because they were both writers that I began this blog tonight.
Let me be open to possibility and draw words from the experiences of each day. I sometimes forget that ever moment can be a "learning moment," if only one takes the time.
My tummy still rumbles, my madrigals await, and the form has yet to be filled out.
Tomorrow's suggestion?
READ ALOUD.
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