Homes
Earlier this week while cleaning out my closet (scary, scary task) I found a large sketch book. This is strange, considering the fact that my sketching abilities only go about as far as stick men. I opened it and I was greeted not by sketches, but by glued in pictures of furniture. I was overcome by a wave of memories. Don't you love when that happens?
Around the time that I was 14 I had been dragged away to a cottage on a trip that, for some reason or another, I wasn't feeling very enthusiastic about, and to occupy my time I had torn apart an Ikea catalogue, cutting out pictures of things that I liked. I then arranged them into pages for different rooms in the house that I would one day own. I remember the house clearly. I had drawn it out, planning the size and the shape of everything, and had even done some rudimentary drawings of the floor plans.
As I sat on the floor of my bedroom and turned the pages of the sketch book, admiring the collection, I began to remember all the various homes that I have envisioned for myself over the years. During the time that I was interested by - no, really obsessed with - dolphins I was going to have a small home with a white picket fence on a quiet road just up from the sea in Halifax. When I grew out of the dolphins and developed a taste for architecture I was going to have a penthouse loft apartment with an open roof balcony and a black marble kitchen. Later it was a standard four bedroom home decorated in pastel colours and with the country cottage decor feel to it.
It's funny how much time I've spent over the years planning out my perfect home, and now that I am so close to that huge step into adulthood of setting up my own place (only a year or so down the road), the idea positively terrifies me. I do know where I want that place to be, and what I want it to look like, and what I want to fill it with, but the knowledge that the thing that I've thought about for so long is finally so close is almost paralyzing. I suppose that everyone must feel this way and that I'll feel much better about it when I'm at the time to start looking, find the place, and take the plunge, but right now it's a positive antinomy. (Am I using that word right, Mum?)
Around the time that I was 14 I had been dragged away to a cottage on a trip that, for some reason or another, I wasn't feeling very enthusiastic about, and to occupy my time I had torn apart an Ikea catalogue, cutting out pictures of things that I liked. I then arranged them into pages for different rooms in the house that I would one day own. I remember the house clearly. I had drawn it out, planning the size and the shape of everything, and had even done some rudimentary drawings of the floor plans.
As I sat on the floor of my bedroom and turned the pages of the sketch book, admiring the collection, I began to remember all the various homes that I have envisioned for myself over the years. During the time that I was interested by - no, really obsessed with - dolphins I was going to have a small home with a white picket fence on a quiet road just up from the sea in Halifax. When I grew out of the dolphins and developed a taste for architecture I was going to have a penthouse loft apartment with an open roof balcony and a black marble kitchen. Later it was a standard four bedroom home decorated in pastel colours and with the country cottage decor feel to it.
It's funny how much time I've spent over the years planning out my perfect home, and now that I am so close to that huge step into adulthood of setting up my own place (only a year or so down the road), the idea positively terrifies me. I do know where I want that place to be, and what I want it to look like, and what I want to fill it with, but the knowledge that the thing that I've thought about for so long is finally so close is almost paralyzing. I suppose that everyone must feel this way and that I'll feel much better about it when I'm at the time to start looking, find the place, and take the plunge, but right now it's a positive antinomy. (Am I using that word right, Mum?)
posted by Haley @ 8:17 p.m.
