Welcome to July. And that means we’re at the end of the June subscription-based donation project. Thanks to new free and paid subscriptions, my donation to the National Center for Transgender Equality was $75. There were also three matching donors which means the total donation was $300.
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For as much of a sentimental fool as I am, I have a really hard time physically revisiting some places - places I’ve lived, mostly. Once I’m out and moved, I feel very much like that door closes, literally and metaphorically.
As I’ve gotten older, I realize it’s because I associate different versions of myself with these different places. Versions that grew with me and then I outgrew. Past versions are ghosts now, and while they make up who I am, they also strongly haunt the places that made them who they are.
These are some of the places I’m haunting.
Childhood Home - Cheney, Washington
We moved into this small house in this small town the summer I was seven. It was a big deal. My brother and I each got our own rooms for the first time and I was determined that mine should be a sanctuary of refuge. (This is code for I was a total asshole to my brother about not coming in my room.) Three bedrooms, one bathroom, unfinished basement. For a long time, the whole house was painted in the wall magic style. It was always a fight to see who got the bathroom first after long road trips. We mostly lived on top of each other. My parents and I switched rooms at some point. When I left for college, my brother took over my room and his room became the office.
My parents sold that house when I was in my early 20s and moved somewhere much bigger. During that time, my Mom told me that the house we spent nearly two decades in was actually supposed to be temporary. It was supposed to be until my parents could save up for something more spacious, more ideal for a family our size. She told me she thought my brother and I were embarrassed of our house. Honestly, that thought never crossed my mind. Not once I don’t think. My ghost is still pretty happy there too.
Dorm Room - Western Washington University in Bellingham, Washington
Other parts of the world are so confused as to why we make kids (KIDS) who are on their own for the first time live with total strangers in one room and, yeah, I agree. Dorm living was fine for me; I made it through. I did have a roommate who had severe insomnia, was up all night playing computer games in her bluelight, and once lost my frisbee in the pool. She also drew pretty funny comics that I made a couple of nice appearances in. I would say my ghost doesn’t haunt this room so much as the whole of campus, but she definitely stops in and hangs out in the very large wardrobe from time to time.
2nd 21st Street Apartment - Bellingham, Washington
Honestly, the thing I remember most about this apartment, besides living with two of my best friends, is that the rent was $275. I can’t imagine this apartment still costs so little as that was *ahem* nearly 15 years ago but TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY FIVE DOLLARS. Was it a very nice apartment? No. It was a college kid’s apartment; it was a townhouse with a small u-shaped kitchen, an oddly watchful management company, and loud neighbors. But it also had laundry in the apartment and 1.5 baths so…my ghost hangs out there just so she can keep getting a steal.
Downtown Apartment - Seattle, Washington
We truly lucked into magic here. Well, actually my friend Christina did a buncha work to find us a place and she really lucked us into some magic here. Another place where I lived with some of my best friends (the same ones). We were probably some of the youngest tenants in the building so, if you didn’t know it was condos and like three rentals, you might think we lived in a retirement home.
It was such a good place to land right after undergrad. The apartment was big enough that we could host people all the time. It was close enough to activities that we could resemble “young people in the city.” And it was cozy enough that we could make it feel like home while we lived there. I often say this is where I actually became an adult, or something like an adult. The life lessons were lightning quick, the growing pains hard but it was also really fun. Here, my ghost is constantly getting ready for some sort of activity, having a little drink, and thinking she knows way more than she does.
West Harlem Apartment - New York City
This was another place I lucked into. An impressive friend of mine was on her way out of the country on Fulbright and the timing happened to line up with my move to the city for grad school at Columbia so I slid right into the empty room. I spent nearly three years in that apartment, in two different rooms, schlepping back and forth to school two subway stops away. As is the nature of grad school, and theatre, I probably spent more time out of the apartment than in it but it served me while I was there. It also became the very example of an NYC apartment - shady management company, cockroaches, etc. In this apartment, I also learned that just because anything moving-related gives me major anxiety, that doesn’t mean I should stay somewhere because I’m…already there. Well, my ghost is still really trying to internalize that lesson. In the meantime, she just lets the cockroaches have the kitchen.
1st Astoria Apartment - New York City
Out of any of the other places I lived, beyond my childhood home, this was the apartment I lived in the longest. Through various means and people, by the time we left, it had been connected along a continuous string of roommates in some way for a decade and I was there for four years. Because I lived there most recently and am still in the neighborhood, I currently have the strongest associations with this apartment. I was introduced to a couple of incredible women and one adorable cat there. I graduated from grad school there. I turned 30 there. I went through a long unemployment there (although my current place is in competition for that at the moment). That apartment showed me a part of the city I truly love and feel most at home in. I kicked off a pandemic there and the pandemic kicked me out of there. Our last day in that apartment was June 30, 2020 and, it’s two years later and I’m not sure my ghost even realizes we’ve left yet.
See? I told you we are sentimental fools.
Monday, June 29, 2020
I’m handy! I put together a bathroom shelving unit thingy!
Tuesday, June 30, 2020
Good-bye to all of that. And thank you.
Wednesday, July 1, 2020
Another day, another missed photo. If you have any guesses as to what I was doing this day, leave me a comment. Wrong answers only.
Thursday, July 2, 2020
Neighborhood sunset.
Friday, July 3, 2020
Why is laundry never actually done? There’s always something that is still going to be dirty. It’s like dishes.
Saturday, July 4, 2020
I didn’t take a picture of my face, apparently, so you get a picture of my food.
Sunday, July 5, 2020
I’m handy again! I put up a mirror! I’m good with tools!
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