i don’t have a bed, or a couch, or a table, or any chairs, a dresser, a television, real plates, real cups, lamps, or even a shower curtain, but i’m very comfortable.
i’m sitting in my very own apartment. in my new place to call home; wilmington, north carolina. the apartment is much bigger than i could have hoped for. it’s empty and patiently awaiting my decoration-imagination (which consists of three neutral colors and very minimalistic-esque furniture) to come to fruition.
i don’t know how long that is going to take, though. never in my entire life have i had the entire privilege and freedom to put the pencil to a blank canvas. when i was younger, my mother decorated my room (sure, she asked what color walls i wanted and even when she let me pick that painful-to-look-at pink, she still picked the fix-ins for me). when college came around, the wobbly-wood pieces of furniture were already in place in the dorm room, so, aside from some pillows and a white down-comforter, i didn’t have much space to dream. with all my moves lately, i became accustomed to packing up my pillows, that same down-comforter and putting my mattress pad on the ground in whichever room was “home” to me.
just a small bit of my many character flaws; indecisiveness and incapacity to simmer down, have proven to be quite the obstacles in this entire debacle.
i want black plates now, but what if in a couple months i decide that i want white plates?
i want a cushioned ottoman for my living room, but what if i want a more stable place to set my coffee whilst watching netflix on my big screen in the future?
i want my place to be super modern, cool, chic, hip, with solid colored everything but what happens when i want some good ole’ vintage resale items?
simmer down. that’s what i’ll do. that’s what i’m slowly picking up on these days.
if you’re one of my reoccurring visitors and you’ve been wondering what i’ve been up to since my last post..
learning the art of simmering downwards.
to close off this brief and rather anticlimactic slur of thoughts and words, i’ll tell you all that fish is the hardest damn thing on God’s green earth to cook. I either scorch those retarded gill-breathers or waaaay undercook them. it doesn’t matter. i’m either left with a pungent, long-lasting, burnt-ocean-salt aroma hovering in my kitchen. or the shits.
more info to come, hopefully when i have a couch,
living one single mile away from my best friend is already proving to be more than wonderful.
workout duo. permanent wing-women. geekin and yonkin freaks.
we’re a dream team.