Week 3 of Apartment Therapy found me at my worst curled into a ball on my hardwood floor in front of my kitchen sink. This week, I renewed my acquaintance with Perfectionism, and she took me for quite a spin.
This is why I don't clean. I don't clean because once I start, I'm afraid I'll never stop. There is no end to dust, to crumbs and hairs on the floor. No end to the amount of cleaning you can do. And I fear the dark path down that road. I am my mother as I snap at Penelope when her fork clatters on the floor, sending sticky bits of egg and vegetables flying. She's just making more work! Now I have to bend down, brush it off, get a paper towel wet and wipe it up. I remember my mother's face when we'd walk across her newly mopped kitchen floor. It animates my own.
I don't want Penelope or anyone else to become nervous around me lest they spill something. I've found myself all week nervous around myself. I curse and stamp my feet when a rogue onion flies off my knife and splats onto the floor; I nearly cry when I see a few stray hairs curling around the feet of my tray tables, almost as if they hover above the floor by infinitesimal amounts. All week I've been jumping and cursing and crying.
I want to take myself and my cat out of the house, seal it tight, to prevent against further damage we might do to it. I'm afraid of living in my own home because living is messy. Living means hairs fall off of my head and onto the floor; it means dishes that pile up in the sink; it means countertops that become free from tea stains only after being soaked 3 times in bleach. It never ends.
I still have one box unchecked from Week 1: "Sweep & Mop floors." I've taken a broom and a dustbuster to my entire apartment, but I've only managed to scrub with borax and castor oil soap an with a scratchy sponge a 2' square right in front of the stove. Week 2, I still have "Clean kitchen top--> bottom & throw away old food" and "Run hands over every wall in apt" unchecked. I still need to clean my stove, my refrigerator, my floors, Salem's food station.
Week 3 has been freeing, though, in a sense. I've decided that I simply will not do the color part of the therapy. I'm leaving soon, and as much as I'd love to paint and get new decorative pillows, I don't see the point. So my rooms might be too cold or too warm, but I'm not bothering with it. Instead, I'll focus on maintaining what I have. I've reorganized my entranceway a bit and now have a place to rest my wallet, checkbook, phone, agenda so I can change bags daily. I have yet to design an invitation for my housewarming or cancel my unused subscriptions, but I'll work on that slowly.
I started NaNoWriMo today. I'm a bit nervous that this project on top of Apartment Therapy on top of writing down every cent I spent this month might do more damage than good, but we'll see. Up next: living room.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
apartment therapy: week 2
Week 2 of apartment therapy is winding down, and I'm remembering all of my organizational skills. I'd forgotten how much I like doing that -- I've been cleaning like crazy, which isn't my favorite thing, but I've also been purging, throwing away so many things. Today I got rid of a lot of costume jewelery that I've been saving for no good reason. I've been throwing out several year old lip balms, socks that have no partners, bits and pieces of furniture that I've put together, random odds and ends. It's interesting what I choose to keep, too. Why can't I part with the few pairs of underwear that are getting holes in them or have stretched out so that they no longer even stay up? What makes me hang on to all of my bottles of perfume that I haven't touched in probably a year and a half or more? Why can't I part with books I have no interest in?
I love the feeling of using up things that I have. Most of my adult years have been a long consumer binge, accumulating things to comfort myself, to make up for the lack of things I felt I had when I was younger. I felt like a child when I moved down to Louisiana because I had so few things. Most of my things are cheap too, IKEA, a particleboard bed with drawers, TV stands, and desks I've put together. The things I keep are older, metal, glass. Very little plastic.
My apartment has been feeling lighter, more free lately. Sometimes I get worried that I might go overboard and binge on purging so that my apartment (and my life) becomes too spartan, too boring. New blank spaces on walls sometimes frighten me, there's too much change! But then I open my wardrobe and see sheets bulging out of my trunk, pieces of a cordless phone dripping over the wire-framed shelf, the ghosts of shopping trips past. And I make decisions: I throw it a away, give it away, sell it, or--most excitingly-- find new uses for things I've never used, or use something already in use differently. If I don't like something, I can always change it back. For some reason, I always forget that.
Somehow, cleaning and organizing and throwing things away has always been linked with writing for me. Last weekend, I worked on what I'm calling my fake novel for a bit, but it wasn't a very stationary endeavor. It all started when I was doing dishes -- I got this idea of something I wanted to add to my fake novel -- just a few lines. So I did. Then I got up again and did a few more dishes, and while I was doing that, I thought of some more things I could write about, and so I did. This went on just for a bit and felt cleansing and pure and good.
Organizing and cleaning out my house has always helped me organize and clean out my mind. As I sort through the dusty clutter of my house, something deep inside me shifts as well. I feel free, light, energetic. I worry, though, about getting too clean, about having too much organization and cleanliness. I need a little of the mess to stay with me.
I love the feeling of using up things that I have. Most of my adult years have been a long consumer binge, accumulating things to comfort myself, to make up for the lack of things I felt I had when I was younger. I felt like a child when I moved down to Louisiana because I had so few things. Most of my things are cheap too, IKEA, a particleboard bed with drawers, TV stands, and desks I've put together. The things I keep are older, metal, glass. Very little plastic.
My apartment has been feeling lighter, more free lately. Sometimes I get worried that I might go overboard and binge on purging so that my apartment (and my life) becomes too spartan, too boring. New blank spaces on walls sometimes frighten me, there's too much change! But then I open my wardrobe and see sheets bulging out of my trunk, pieces of a cordless phone dripping over the wire-framed shelf, the ghosts of shopping trips past. And I make decisions: I throw it a away, give it away, sell it, or--most excitingly-- find new uses for things I've never used, or use something already in use differently. If I don't like something, I can always change it back. For some reason, I always forget that.
Somehow, cleaning and organizing and throwing things away has always been linked with writing for me. Last weekend, I worked on what I'm calling my fake novel for a bit, but it wasn't a very stationary endeavor. It all started when I was doing dishes -- I got this idea of something I wanted to add to my fake novel -- just a few lines. So I did. Then I got up again and did a few more dishes, and while I was doing that, I thought of some more things I could write about, and so I did. This went on just for a bit and felt cleansing and pure and good.
Organizing and cleaning out my house has always helped me organize and clean out my mind. As I sort through the dusty clutter of my house, something deep inside me shifts as well. I feel free, light, energetic. I worry, though, about getting too clean, about having too much organization and cleanliness. I need a little of the mess to stay with me.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
sunday mornings
There is nothing better than sharing a Sunday morning with someone you love. It's the only day of the week that I allow myself to linger in bed long enough to drift back asleep several times, especially after a night of waking every few hours and talking or laughing about the crazy dreams we've been having.
This morning, I treated my guest to a nice bowl of matcha, a powdered green tea that I've just discovered and am in love with. I then fried up some of last night's red-skinned new potatoes in butter, fresh rosemary, garlic, and onion, and topped it with a dash of pink Hawaiian salt.
We sat on the porch in the oddly autumnal 80 degrees, and as the sun warmed our backs, I thought that I wanted that moment to last forever. I used to dread Sunday mornings as a child because they meant a forced religious experience and rebellion against parental control. Now that I get to control my Sunday mornings, I think I want most of them to be just like this morning. It's 1o to 12, and I'm still in my pajamas, still thinking about the potatoes and the tea. Still feeling calm. I could get used to this.
This morning, I treated my guest to a nice bowl of matcha, a powdered green tea that I've just discovered and am in love with. I then fried up some of last night's red-skinned new potatoes in butter, fresh rosemary, garlic, and onion, and topped it with a dash of pink Hawaiian salt.
We sat on the porch in the oddly autumnal 80 degrees, and as the sun warmed our backs, I thought that I wanted that moment to last forever. I used to dread Sunday mornings as a child because they meant a forced religious experience and rebellion against parental control. Now that I get to control my Sunday mornings, I think I want most of them to be just like this morning. It's 1o to 12, and I'm still in my pajamas, still thinking about the potatoes and the tea. Still feeling calm. I could get used to this.
Friday, August 28, 2009
thursday lunch break
It's a rather unusual treat to be able to come home in the middle of the day and have the time to cook a proper meal. But it's one that I delighted in yesterday, as I made a delicious curried squash and red lentil soup with coconut milk. No, there were no clams or crostini in my soup, and I made my own curry mixture out of cinnamon, cardamom, cumin seeds, and cumin, and if I did it again, I'd almost certainly boil the lentils in the same pot as the vegetables. But that doesn't take away from the magic of enjoying the fruits of your labor at 1pm on a Thursday.
There's something about cooking in the middle of the day that just feels right -- you know you won't come home to the task of chopping and sautéing. You might have some dishes to catch up on, but you're free to just fry some eggs and boil some greens for dinner and call it a night.
Maybe my great-grandparents were on to something: maybe dinner is a midday meal afterall.
There's something about cooking in the middle of the day that just feels right -- you know you won't come home to the task of chopping and sautéing. You might have some dishes to catch up on, but you're free to just fry some eggs and boil some greens for dinner and call it a night.
Maybe my great-grandparents were on to something: maybe dinner is a midday meal afterall.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Food
School hasn't even started yet, and already I have a homework assignment that I've been procrastinating on.
My homework for this week was to create a weekly meal plan. In theory, it's the perfect assignment for me. I have to think through the week's meals, make sure I have the ingredients to make whatever I decide I want ahead of time, and then I don't really have to think about it once the insanity has begun.
The problem with schedules and plans like this is, as much as I love them, I also resent them for telling me what to do. I get bored and restless quickly. It all seems so mundane, so predictable. If I even make it through a week, I feel deflated. Life needs to be exciting -- the excitement of not knowing what I'm eating next, when my stomach's growling, I've got 30 emails to respond to, 300 pages to read, and 2 papers to write, is probably not the kind I'm looking for, though.
So I began my meal plan last night and have begun making preparations for snacking all week. I'm going to try to get away with only making 2 dishes this week, a curried squash and lentil soup and a simple millet casserole. I can eat them (separately) for dinners or lunches, paired with a nice greens salad or steamed vegetables. I have eggs and grains for breakfasts. Hopefully with time, this will get easier.
My homework for this week was to create a weekly meal plan. In theory, it's the perfect assignment for me. I have to think through the week's meals, make sure I have the ingredients to make whatever I decide I want ahead of time, and then I don't really have to think about it once the insanity has begun.
The problem with schedules and plans like this is, as much as I love them, I also resent them for telling me what to do. I get bored and restless quickly. It all seems so mundane, so predictable. If I even make it through a week, I feel deflated. Life needs to be exciting -- the excitement of not knowing what I'm eating next, when my stomach's growling, I've got 30 emails to respond to, 300 pages to read, and 2 papers to write, is probably not the kind I'm looking for, though.
So I began my meal plan last night and have begun making preparations for snacking all week. I'm going to try to get away with only making 2 dishes this week, a curried squash and lentil soup and a simple millet casserole. I can eat them (separately) for dinners or lunches, paired with a nice greens salad or steamed vegetables. I have eggs and grains for breakfasts. Hopefully with time, this will get easier.
Friday, August 21, 2009
School Year Resolutions
Every August for the past 24 years, I've followed the same routine. I've shaken off the summer, wrapping myself in the dreams of a crisp, clean new school year. The scent of freshly sharpened pencils, new paper, new shoes, and wooden desks atop shiny tiled floors is so strong in my memory that I can almost smell it even now, sitting at my desk at home.
My enthusiasm may have waned somewhat -- I no longer wash out new lunch bags days ahead of time out of sheer joy to be returning to the hallowed halls of learning. I no longer arrange all of my new school clothes into various outfits until I have found the perfect back to school match. I have a more realistic understanding of the monotony of the life of a student.
But even still, I get excited when it's time to buy new pens, pencils, notebooks, schoolbags, and yes, school clothes. THIS year, I tell myself, THIS year, I will do better. I will study harder, be more sociable, dress better, and, for the past four years, be a more engaging, fair teacher. Filled with possibilities, I make a personal schedule of classes and work dates and extracurricular activities and other obligations. Blocks of time take on different colors, and everything looks so sensible, so possible. I look forward to spending long dark evenings tucked away with life changing ideas, imagining myself as a sort of stylish monk, silent and focused yet comfortable. I truly believe that if I just make the right timetable and stick to it, that my life will be transformed.
And so, I list my school year resolutions for this, my 24th August of hitting the books:
1. Coffee shop study date with friends every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 8-12
2. Yoga at least twice a week
3. Walk at least 5 times a week
4. Lesson plan ahead of time
5. Actually do all the readings for my classes
6. Wake up no later than 6:30 on all weekdays
7. Wind down every night slowly, by reading something for pleasure
8. Blog often
9. Start research projects early
10. Prepare my own lunches. (I guess I'm still excited about finding a new lunch bag)
What are your school year resolutions?
My enthusiasm may have waned somewhat -- I no longer wash out new lunch bags days ahead of time out of sheer joy to be returning to the hallowed halls of learning. I no longer arrange all of my new school clothes into various outfits until I have found the perfect back to school match. I have a more realistic understanding of the monotony of the life of a student.
But even still, I get excited when it's time to buy new pens, pencils, notebooks, schoolbags, and yes, school clothes. THIS year, I tell myself, THIS year, I will do better. I will study harder, be more sociable, dress better, and, for the past four years, be a more engaging, fair teacher. Filled with possibilities, I make a personal schedule of classes and work dates and extracurricular activities and other obligations. Blocks of time take on different colors, and everything looks so sensible, so possible. I look forward to spending long dark evenings tucked away with life changing ideas, imagining myself as a sort of stylish monk, silent and focused yet comfortable. I truly believe that if I just make the right timetable and stick to it, that my life will be transformed.
And so, I list my school year resolutions for this, my 24th August of hitting the books:
1. Coffee shop study date with friends every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 8-12
2. Yoga at least twice a week
3. Walk at least 5 times a week
4. Lesson plan ahead of time
5. Actually do all the readings for my classes
6. Wake up no later than 6:30 on all weekdays
7. Wind down every night slowly, by reading something for pleasure
8. Blog often
9. Start research projects early
10. Prepare my own lunches. (I guess I'm still excited about finding a new lunch bag)
What are your school year resolutions?
Friday, January 9, 2009
Good days
Do you ever have days that are surprisingly good? When the universe seems to be aligned so that things work smoothly for you? Do they terrify you as they do me?
Take today for instance. I just got home late last night from vacation and was tired and not all that willing to start my day, which had a pretty awful hearing about getting medical privileges at LSU back. I was hungry and headachy when I woke up, but since I'd been gone most of December and January, I had nothing in my house to eat. I didn't even have milk for tea or coffee to ease myself into the day. I knew I was having lunch with Kristi at 12, so I just figured I'd putter about in the am and starve til lunchtime. Afterall, why would I waste effort buying food only to leave again to buy lunch?
Just after I decided to let myself starve, I got a text from Penelope asking if I'd like to join her for some frittata that she'd made for breakfast and do some work. Not only would I get to eat this morning, but I'd also get to see my girlfriend AND get some work done. Sounds better than lounging about, hungry, and despondent.
Not too long after I got there, I decided that I'd had it with the headache, so I went to the coffee shop by P's house for some caffeine. I decided that I wanted a café au lait, but it wasn't on the menu, so I just ordered a coffee, asking the barista to put some milk in it. The coffee was not even close to being drinkable, so I asked for more milk. It was still gross. The barista went ahead and just made me café au lait, without charging me a cent. It was still gross, but the effort to please me was nice and unasked for.
Luch with K was great -- got some more ideas for my dissertation and for my committee.
So, onwards to horrid meeting. I went in there expecting the absolute worse, especially as I realized only 15 minutes before the meeting that I was supposed to request that meeting in writing and fill out this stupid little form and attach documents that support my case. I threw something on the form and raced into the meeting, flustered and nervous.
I was met with a warm handshake and a smile while the director of finance and administration inquired why I was there. I asked if he was familiar with the case; he said he wasn't. (He was, but whatever). I explained the case, what I wanted, and, as though it had already been decided, I got exactly what I wanted. I can now to go the student health center, for free, for any services I want or need, excepting the women's center, which, after my experience there, I never want to step foot into again anyway.
Then, at Whole Foods later, they had tons of samples out (and of cookies!) which I kept snagging while I shopped and chatted on the phone. I got into a nice conversation about Mexico and jicama with the checkout boy at Southside, and as I was leaving, this older man raced over to open my car door, as he saw me loaded down with a heavy bag of produce. He said that chivalry was underrated. I agreed. Why not?
It's all little things, but things just feel right today. I'm happy, and everyone is reacting kindly to me for no real reason. I like it. Tonight's for making lists of things to do, doing some lesson planning, and making soup and salad for me & P. And maybe for some more blogging. I need to get better at it and do it more.
Take today for instance. I just got home late last night from vacation and was tired and not all that willing to start my day, which had a pretty awful hearing about getting medical privileges at LSU back. I was hungry and headachy when I woke up, but since I'd been gone most of December and January, I had nothing in my house to eat. I didn't even have milk for tea or coffee to ease myself into the day. I knew I was having lunch with Kristi at 12, so I just figured I'd putter about in the am and starve til lunchtime. Afterall, why would I waste effort buying food only to leave again to buy lunch?
Just after I decided to let myself starve, I got a text from Penelope asking if I'd like to join her for some frittata that she'd made for breakfast and do some work. Not only would I get to eat this morning, but I'd also get to see my girlfriend AND get some work done. Sounds better than lounging about, hungry, and despondent.
Not too long after I got there, I decided that I'd had it with the headache, so I went to the coffee shop by P's house for some caffeine. I decided that I wanted a café au lait, but it wasn't on the menu, so I just ordered a coffee, asking the barista to put some milk in it. The coffee was not even close to being drinkable, so I asked for more milk. It was still gross. The barista went ahead and just made me café au lait, without charging me a cent. It was still gross, but the effort to please me was nice and unasked for.
Luch with K was great -- got some more ideas for my dissertation and for my committee.
So, onwards to horrid meeting. I went in there expecting the absolute worse, especially as I realized only 15 minutes before the meeting that I was supposed to request that meeting in writing and fill out this stupid little form and attach documents that support my case. I threw something on the form and raced into the meeting, flustered and nervous.
I was met with a warm handshake and a smile while the director of finance and administration inquired why I was there. I asked if he was familiar with the case; he said he wasn't. (He was, but whatever). I explained the case, what I wanted, and, as though it had already been decided, I got exactly what I wanted. I can now to go the student health center, for free, for any services I want or need, excepting the women's center, which, after my experience there, I never want to step foot into again anyway.
Then, at Whole Foods later, they had tons of samples out (and of cookies!) which I kept snagging while I shopped and chatted on the phone. I got into a nice conversation about Mexico and jicama with the checkout boy at Southside, and as I was leaving, this older man raced over to open my car door, as he saw me loaded down with a heavy bag of produce. He said that chivalry was underrated. I agreed. Why not?
It's all little things, but things just feel right today. I'm happy, and everyone is reacting kindly to me for no real reason. I like it. Tonight's for making lists of things to do, doing some lesson planning, and making soup and salad for me & P. And maybe for some more blogging. I need to get better at it and do it more.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
