Friday, May 20, 2011

A house is not a home

When I first moved into this apartment, I was so excited about finally having a place that is totally my own.  But I had no emotional connection to the apartment.  In college I was very attached to my apartment.  I feel attached to everything in here but not the apartment itself.  I love the massive amounts of organizational furniture, my giant red couch, my expandable kitchen table, my new bed, it truly feels like mine.  But the apartment, is apartment.  I had originally debated between a 1 bedroom and 2 bedroom apartment...simply, the cost of living here is astronomical so I figured a 1 bedroom would work.  Its not small by any means, just simple.  The list of damages when I moved in was huge.  I learned after a large sum due at the end of colleges to make a comprehensive list of damages when moving into a new space.  There's nothing major wrong, but let's just say, I won't cry when I move out of here in a year or so. I also won't miss whatever little critter likes to make scratchy noise over my bedroom at night in the roof crawl space.

Yet this space is still mine.  Even if its only for a short while.  It still feels like a home.  I cook dinner here, I sleep here, I layout on the giant chaise part of my couch when I want to relax, or do homework or blog.  So here's a sneak peek, hopefully a camera cord will find its way into my apartment for better pictures, but here's a piece of me.

That includes my lovely red couch with my laptop open, my purse dumped everywhere, my bike ready to roll despite the impending rain, my coffee table with all my wedding magazines under it.  This is where I am mostly me.  This is where my "house" is a home, because I've made it...mine.

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