Pages

Monday, February 18, 2013

Not home, but a house


I would love to show you this picture and have you think my bloggy little librarian home is adorable and the bee's knees and so chock full of cozy-tidy-clutter that it could melt the heart of one of the White Witch's stone animals.  The truth of the matter is that while this picture was taken after FINALLY completing the living room unpacking, the bedroom was a total and complete move-in disaster area, which I mostly blame on the simple fact that this place is 1/3 the size of our old house.  And also, moving and unpacking SUCK.


But that's mostly been taken care of too.

Except the horse head.


My brother gave Patrick that for Christmas and we're still puzzling over where to put it.  When you downsize to a home 1/3 the size of your previous one, you get to a point in which you literally have nowhere to put a horse mask other than atop your broom in the kitchen.  I call that phase Horse Mask Phase.

I wish I could say that now that everything's mostly unpacked and kind of settled (as much as it can be, anyway, since we don't plan on staying here a second year and some things can just stay boxed), I feel at home, but my heart is still very much with RVA.  This little tiny place by Mill Mountain feels like a cozy house, but it's not...home.  I put a lot of effort into loving that city, and it hurts like a gaping wound still to have left it.  I'm also kind of hermit-y and tend to gather a few close friends, so losing them all in one fell swoop of moving is incredibly rough, and as the weeks have turned into months, it's gotten hurty -- the ability to just swing over to Penny Lane Pub and share brie and and Grateful Deads while listening to the Beatles nonstop with my "old college" friends would rock right now.  Just being around friends to support them in life and share stuff would rock.  Adjusting to that loss is just something that's going to take time.  < insert enigmatic shrug here >  It's not like I haven't moved before, hello teen years of moving several times in succession, but it *is* different when it's entirely your choice (it actually feels *worse* because now I can't even stomp off and blame my parents, dammit).  Moving someplace in winter when everything's bitter cold and miserable and ugly doesn't help either -- everywhere I go I'm like, oh my god this entire city is just one big Colonial Heights.  So I feel like the Really Fucking Sad times are moments I shouldn't feel bad about.  I know soon The Winter of My Discontent will pass and Spring will hit and I'll ride my bike to work on the Greenway and bluebirds will sing and make my breakfast and stuff.  But for now, moving sucks and I'm allowed to feel bad sometimes.  I'm trying to make sure it isn't *all* the time.  At least my living room is cute and cozy and would melt the heart of a stone squirrel.

WELP.

Now that I've gone down SUPER SAD LANE over here in WALLOWING SELF PITYING BLOG LAND, I should probably end on a high note of saying holy shit I found a SHEEP SWEATER while thrifting.  So yey.

6 comments:

  1. I think that a house only really becomes a home with time and experiences put in, no matter it's size and state of unpackedness. Having experiences isn't so easy when all of your social circle has fallen away, though.

    For what it's worth: I think your living room looks very cozy, the couch appears comfy (books are reachable without getting up - ideal!) and the cheeky corgi looking in from the kitchen makes it all so much better.

    Hopefully spring will come soon and bring good new experiences with it,

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh definitely -- and I do hope that once it's warm out that I can also connect more with friends from my city at some wineries at the halfway point and things like that. And maybe make new friends with outdoor social clubs or the secular humanist Meetup group I found...but until then, definitely feeling like it *should* feel like home since all my shit's here, but it *totally doesn't*.

      Thank you!

      Delete
  2. Moving is hard. As is making friends in a new city. No harm in acknowledging that. I agree that things will look brighter in Spring. Winter seems so looong in February. And your dog is the cutest. So there is that.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Making friends as an adult is hard, especially for ye olde introverts. I just have to keep telling myself that it gets better. :)

      Delete
  3. Time to discover really cool things about Roanoke! :) Go to Dixie Caverns and marvel at the phallic rock formations. Go to Green Hill Park. See if Mini-Graceland is still up: http://www.roadsideamerica.com/story/2232, the Virginia Museum of Transportation, the Science Museum w/the Planetarium, Taubman Museum of Art, Harrison Museum of African American Culture, plus there are a few museums (Frontier Museum!! OMG!! <3) and wineries not too far away from you. I know it's not the same, but hey, maybe you could take a class at Roanoke and meet some nerdy types there? <3 <3 <3

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Haha, thanks. I think my main beef is mostly just that it's kind of ugly everywhere -- strip mall city, etc. Once I get out into the mountains it's prettier, but I miss just walking around the Fan and such, really. I'm going to the O. Winston museum later this week, already been to Taubman. :) Definitely not up for taking any classes right now, both $-wise, and what with just finishing grad school, I am soooooo done with anything like that for a while. I did find a Meetup group for secular humanists so I joined that.

      Delete