24 months, and I'm packing again!

I'm moving again to a new home, after 24 months of living the downtown life and enjoying this little place that I have come to love as a home. I think anyone who's ever been to my place would agree, it's very much cosy and made to be "mine", despite the little messes here and there. It definitely has a feel of intimacy to it, well, all those pillows and blankets in the living room may have something to do with it (TV blankets are up there in the list of items that make up an awesome living room, right after nice TV, couch and pillows).

But it is time to say goodbye. In roughly 30 days from now, I will be heaving boxes of my belongings into a new home. The question is, what makes it into the boxes?

Moving always makes you question what is necessary for your living. And I'm going through my things and finding out a bit more about myself, what are the indispensables? Condo living made me learn to edit my belongings, but even that, I still manage to accumulate a lot of unnecessary items. For example, clothes - I have a closetful and a dresser: who needs so many clothes?! Apparently, people have way more than that. How do you live comfortably having so many things around?

So here I am with my big garbage bags again.


Edit: OMFG STRINGS. Why do I have so many?!
Edit: OMFG SINGLE SOCKS.

i have a weird condition

Lately, I've been getting extremely sleepy and tired starting from 4:00pm until 7:30pm --- and then wide awake when it's time for me to sleep. Feels like I'm running on Asia time or something.

Point in case, it's almost 1AM and I know I will suffer for it tomorrow morning when my alarm rings.... but here I am blogging away.

Am cleaning up my condo today and tossing stuff out, I realize, I have a LOT of junk. And I'm also more a packrat than I think I am. In fact, I'm all talk about being able to pack a bag and go. I have an entire box of old letters and odd mementos I received from various eras of my life, some of them from people I don't even talk to anymore. And I still can't bring myself to throw them away...

I'm still kicking myself for having tossed out the first diary I've written (when I was 9, my aunt Jo gave it to me right before I left for Canada and so it chronicled my first couple of years in Canada). It was tossed away in a teenage angst moment when I tried to pretend I can live without frivolities such as diaries, especially ones that contain evidence of my childishness. Yeah, teenagers are dumb and I hate them too.

I've still kept letters from high school, memos and cards from back then, the more prolific contributors even have their own envelopes. I think I can find birthday cards from as far back as elementary school? Not sure though, ever since that one time I had thought seriously about tossing the cards away, I don't remember if in fact I did or not. It was right after I heard about how people usually throw away birthday and Christmas cards, and that completely baffled me. Prior to that it was inconceivable to me that these things would be thrown away - I always thought they are meant to be kept, to commemorate that particular event. In my mind, people all have a box of these things either with them or in their parents' basement or attic. I just assumed that my parents don't have that because they don't do letters and cards and besides, were forced to part with them when they emigrated.

Now I throw some Christmas cards away, but still, most of the cards I receive... I still keep around. I don't know, am I crazy?

my last post was really lazy

Mr. Burn's diseases

I'm sorry fellow readers to subject you to a mundane piece of update that's not even worthy of a Facebook Status. The point is, I had a good weekend, it was stuffy as hell downtown, and grumpy doremish just felt like a thousand words wanted to come up but they all got stuck at the door like Mr. Burns' viruses. Maybe the topics hadn't mulled in my head for long enough (the danger of letting ideas mull in my head is that sometimes I forget them, ahem "first cruise ever" post that never got published).


Anyhow... The danger of a good weekend is that it makes the Monday next feel like shitting a pinecone. This morning as I was stuck behind a mob of people at an intersection on my way to work, I appreciated the analogy V made the other day about how it looks like a herd of cattle. I was part of that herd, mooing and obedient, on my way to the slaughterhouse. For those that know me in real life know that I have about as much patience as a potato chip has nutritional value. Being stuck behind suits made me want to go all Keanu Reeves on those Mr. Smiths. Start of a great week, if you must know, but I didn't start the post to whine about my Monday again (I totally just did. Hah).

So new development this weekend, V has met with a mortgage specialist which I suspect may kick start his moving out in a more concrete way (well, more concretely than it ever was). That, coupled with my recent visit to an ex-coworker's humble (read: not humble at all) abode in a rich Missisaugan neighbourhood made me wonder about homes: do you prefer a spanking new house or something with a bit of age and character? Heck it got me thinking, and I don't even know. An old house if well renovated, could look like something out of a magazine - the romantic side of me thinks that I can decorate it with junks I bring back from around the world (hello drum from aggressive vendor in Jamaica!)... it would have terracotta ceramic in the kitchen, a well stocked garden for me to kill, and trees tall enough for a treehouse and hammocks. On the other hand there's the thrill of designing and having a spanking new big house - a proper dining room, family room, and all that stuff. It's all about suburbia and landscaping... yes it's comfortable, but somehow, feels a little - generic?

I don't know if I will want to deal with the old gas pipes and all the hidden problems of an older home, but if there's one that just has character but proper innards... well, it'd be like finding the perfect guy that's also not gay. One can dream...

I got new barstools!

I had forgotten how it feels like to sit somewhere that's facing nothing in particular and not a wall.

I've also finally taken the time to put something up on my wall and gotten a small patio set - my place is feeling not just like home, but like a refuge. I love how it makes me leave my work and all the wariness at the door. Love the way i can wedge into my couch comfortably, put my feet up and watch tv while playing fruit ninja during commercial breaks. Of all the condos i've visited, mine would be, in my own very biased opinion, the most personal and comfortable... I've somehow made it into a ultra large bedroom with a kitchen (which would explain why it feels almost weird to have people over sometimes...)

But I'm also thinking about moving on, as weird as it sounds. There are two buildings coming up that may eventually block me in where i can now see the highway and more importantly, the sun. I can see myself wanting a bit more space in a year or two - i was right, afterall, when i first were condo hunting, to say that my timeline would be 3-4 years. Hm.

So what is next. Well i just changed job and it's got its up and downs, and although there are opportunities out there right now i think it might be a little too impatient for me to change. But as always, i don't know if i'm saying that because i'm afraid to change and am getting complacent, or that i actually am starting to see the good sides of things. I know that there are things that are definitely putting me off right now, and i'm also the type of person that give things a little too many second chances.

Well, at least now i have a barstool to sit on and think about these big life decisions while sipping tea. Now, let's get this pros and cons list started!

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