I always get compliments on my apartment. Things like “your stuff is so cool” and I’m often told how “homey” it feels. I think partially this is just because I live in a college town and not many people here are taking the time to take make their low-budget apartments that they’re hardly even in feel like a home. But I did. Well, my boyfriend and I did but now that he is gone and has taken his stuff it has began turning into my place.
I have huge anxiety about moving out of here in a couple short months and into a new place with three other girls, but I’m sure it will be okay. My home here is just so perfect. Full of Buddha statues, smoke from incense lingers in the air, sunlight lets itself in through cracks in the drapes. A box with several small drawers inside, a gift from my grandma that was a gift from her mother. A rug hand knit by my great grandma, I got it for Christmas from my great aunt. My laptop a gift from my grandparents. The pillow handmade by yours truly. The curtains were a gift from my boyfriends Aunt. She had the same ones and I fell in love with them and she happened to get them from pier 1 for a super good deal so she bought a bunch! I will never been seen without candles and tea, perched on my floor pillow, facing the opposite wall, covered by a gorgeous tapestry found at a little bead shop downtown.
Last but not least, the thing that really sets the mood for my apartment (besides the convenient mood lights) is the record player. This one was given to me by my Uncle, and I love collecting records. My dad always have, since long before I was ever even a thought, and when I think of my dad I always think of him telling me about all the old time rock and roll. His brother, my uncle, has thousands of records, all the best ones, left over from the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s. So to be sitting here blogging listening to Beast of Burden by The Rolling Stones on the Sucking In The Seventies album in my perfect little home is just about the happiest place I could be. By the way, The Beast of Burden has been on repeat (aka me getting up to step the needle back every time the songs over) all morning long.
So between a broken futon, that sits at a 90 degree angle like it’s going to launch you into space (perfect stoner couch), the woven tapestry, living above a tiny little market, and all the home made necessities I have created my perfect haven, with beautiful wood framed windows to watch out from.