I've almost lost my drive for this. Summer will make it easier. When I'm planning to do something nearly every day it'll be easier. It's when I'm actually doing something every day that it's harder. Between the move and trying to work on Rosetta Stone and still cleaning up here, and the arrival of spring and my laziness and my worries...I've been afraid to put it down here. I've written some of it out on paper...especially the part about my worries. But there's only so much I can write on the train before some bitch at 96th street rudely pushes my bag out of the way so she can share the short bench with me on a half-empty car. Really? you've gotta sit here? I spend nearly an hour on this train and you HAVE to sit HERE for the last 10 minutes of it? Come the fuck on. Also, I've been working on this charity/non-profit that my dad has started. It's based in Florida but I'm kind of masterminding the aesthetics of the operation. It makes me feel important, having a project. Keeps me from going mad. Does not keep me from watching 2 hours of television every night.
I need an elliptical machine. Treadmill. Something to make the 2+hours worthwhile. Plus it'll drown out the sound of people getting cut in half on Harper's Island. Ew. Why do I watch that?
I love my new apartment. Yes, it's causing me to reevaluate every dollar I've ever spent/will ever spend, but I love it. It's quiet, it's spacious, it gets a lot of light, it's convenient and it allows me to be alone with myself in a way I haven't experienced ever. If I wanted to, I could line the walls with stuffed animals and blue glass bottles, set up a cot to sleep on in the hallway and put large planters in the middle of both rooms and grow tomatoes and jackfruit. This is freedom. I don't have to worry about how loud I'm practicing my Rosetta Stone lessons. As long as it's not 2am I can sing in my bedroom. The only thing below me is the basement. I can dance around my apartment. I could play basketball in my apartment if I so chose. The fridge and cabinets are stocked full of MY things. I have two large closets to myself. I have my own bathroom. Only I am responsible for the dishes in the sink. I don't have to worry about bolting the top lock and possibly locking someone out because I'm the first and last person in the door. All of the dishes are mine so if I decide to leave all of my plastic spoons hanging in glass bottles in my bedroom (as one is right now), I can. I don't have to worry about my apartment smelling like hamburger helper or disgusting sausage or chinese food or cologne. The medicine cabinet and shower caddy are ALL MINE. I don't have to fight anyone for the shower in the morning. I don't have to wait to pee in the morning. I can walk around my apartment naked. I don't have to worry about asking a roommate when I want to have guests over. I don't have to fight over who's using the DVR. No one else's food in the kitchen is going to draw bugs. Toilet paper lasts a LONG time. Paper towels last a really long time. I'm the only one using the ice. If a pot wasn't washed after use, that's my fault. I don't have to use someone else's idea of a good dish soap. I can brush my teeth in the kitchen while watching Craig Ferguson. There's a 7-11 across the street. Viva la slurpee. If I want to, I can install a ball pit in the back room and only use it as a ball pit. My pitcher of crystal lite can take up as much room in the fridge as I want it to. There's no open rotting bacon in my fridge. I don't drink coffee so I have plenty of counterspace now. I have a super and they live across the hall. They are not elusive. I know the bills will be paid on time because I'm paying them. I can hide in my bedroom with the door wide open. No one else's guests will just show up and spoil my morning routine. I can take bubble baths. I can have candles and incense without worrying about someone else's allergies. I no longer live right on a busy street with constant dust seeping in through the windows and infecting my lungs with tar to cough up every morning. I can leave my muddy flip flops at the front door without worrying if someone's going to walk in and trip on them. No one yells YOOOOOOOOOOOO outside my window at night (unless it's a Saturday night around 4am, and even then it's more like mumbling spanish and it goes away in about 15 seconds). No one else lives here so no one else can complain profusely about the miniscule problems that I already know exist and don't need to be reminded of. There is no whining. If I wanted to take an afternoon and line my books along the walls in order of alphabetical title, then sorted by author, date of publication and number of pages, I could. I can leave my laundry wherever I want to leave it. The trash certainly takes longer to pile up...
Yes, I love my apartment.
