Ever since I can remember, I’ve always loved writing. I have a journal from when I was about 8, I think that one is the first but I could be wrong. I’ve lost many things over the years, over the moves. Since that “first” journal, 36 more have followed. Some diaries professing my love for the Freshman Punk Rock kid, some are filled with short stories, mostly horror and sci-fi. Some just have random thoughts. For as long as I can remember, writing has been my cure-all. It’s kept my head from exploding on numerous occasions and helped me through some of the most difficult spots in this life.
When I moved into this house, I had big plans for the third bedroom. I was determined to make it into my office, my hide-away, my quiet place where I could write and focus. However, like all things, the plans changed. Ryan moved in with me, and I made the 3rd bedroom into a boy-child’s bedroom. (This kid has a rocking bunk bed… his is gun-metal whereas Noodle’s is wood). I just figured I’d get an office some day.
I used to set up shop in my kitchen, I have this wonderful kitchen nook I found when I moved in. So I’d set up my journals, notepads and laptop on the table, and brew some coffee. I have numerous plants in there now, and with all the photos we’ve hung on the walls, the kitchen is even more my favorite place than it’s ever been. However, what I neglected to predict… I have a Kindergartener now. I also have a boyfriend who loves to cook. If I’m in there attempting to write, I’m getting asked to try such and such sauce (which is great!) or if I can lend a pen out. The silence and solace is broken in there until late nights, and by then, after everyone’s in bed I am too tired to think. I do get up before 5 after-all.
So the kitchen is out.
I’ve been grumping around about not having a place for my thoughts for a few weeks. I started asking around for a desk (and thanks for everyone who looked!) and trying to figure out what I’d do with it. Well, in my thrift store adventures yesterday I found one! We went and picked it up after Ryan got off of work yesterday. I was so excited I was planning on carrying it on my back if it wouldn’t fit in my car. So as we’re heading home with it, I realize, what am I going to do with this desk? I’ll have to fit it somewhere, but where is quiet enough to write?
One of the rooms we have worked a lot on (well, hell, we’ve worked on all of them, but this one was important to me) is my bedroom. Before it had off-white walls, my queen sized bed with miss-matched sheets, a broken night stand and a closet packed with crap. I hated it. It reminded me of a roach motel. So even though I was busy laying my new floor and painting the living room, I had left the room alone. It took a kick in the ass from Ryan to start shaping it up, and holy crap has it come far.
We removed the closet rails (since I keep my hanging clothes in Noodle’s closet) and put all of the boxes in the attic. We moved Ryan’s dark wood 9 drawer dresser in the closet and removed the mirror. In an hour I was out one day, Ry installed shelving for all of my books, not before he painted the wall a deep red along with another accent wall. Curtains have been hung to frame the book shelves. For Christmas last year, he bought me matching sheets and an assload of pillows. Which is great and all except for I never want to leave bed in the mornings anymore. After installing a nice ceiling fan and arranging my craft crap in there, I started to love my bedroom again.
So why not make it my sanctuary? The place I can retreat from everyone and sit with my own thoughts? Drink my coffee and pour my brain out on paper/internet? So that’s where I am now. We set up the desk, arranged all my crap around it, and are making plans to stain ithe desk a dark color (to match the accent walls). Complete with a desk lamp Ryan found and a cup for my pens and rack for my journals… I’m in heaven. It’s taken almost 4 years, but I finally have a sanctuary in my own house (even though I love my whole house, everyone needs a me-spot).
Everyone needs a private spot to keep to themselves. This morning is a perfect example. Noodle demanded spongebob (on repeat) for the morning and frankly spongebob makes me want to stab my own ear drums with a rusty screw driver. So while she’s in the living room, I’m down the hall, listening to her chatter at the tv and drinking some coffee. My dogs are sleeping at my feet, and I have my plans laid out for my next story. I’m happy, this is the perfect way to spend a Saturday morning. Happy weekend everyone!