An experience of space
It's been a good month now in my new apartment, and although I am arguably starting to settle in, I am increasingly starting to realise that the entirety of my life up to this point, during which just having a room of my own has not infrequently been a luxury, has left me inadequately prepared to make use of an entire apartment. What is it, exactly, that people do with them? This thing continues to elude me.
Speaking as a researcher of architectural space, there's something interesting about the experience of having more space at my disposal than I can really... use, I guess? I suppose there's something attractive about the minimalistic leanness of my lodgings in their present form, but for all practical purposes just the floor space I have seems kind of excessive. More to the point, I have this gigantic balcony that I have no idea what to do with. There's something weirdly anthropological about this whole experience - it's like I was thrown in the middle of this spatial arrangement of a strange and unknown culture and have to reconstruct from scraps what it could be used for. Do I have to take up *gasp* gardening? How sinister! I guess that would be better than taking up smoking.
The exception to all of this is, of course, the kitchen - having my own kitchen is awesome, and certainly (after years of archaeological excavations where the struggle for living space in lodgings was the norm) having, all for myself, an entire fridge and a freezer in which to store all my sinister hipster-ish vegetarian experiments is a boon. A boon! I keep wondering if it's a boon that's actually worth paying like six hundred eurobucks per month for, but... at least it's something.
Still, when it comes down to it - for the things that I do on a day-by-day basis, all I really need is a computer, a desk, the aforementioned kitchen and a bed. Actually, now that I think about it, even the desk could probably be dispensed with. Shelves for my books and a chair to read them in are definitely a plus, but after that, I'm... stumped!
Well! I suppose being able to play old horror games all night without interruption could be considered an advantage of this arrangement! Of course, that might carry a sinister subtext...
Speaking as a researcher of architectural space, there's something interesting about the experience of having more space at my disposal than I can really... use, I guess? I suppose there's something attractive about the minimalistic leanness of my lodgings in their present form, but for all practical purposes just the floor space I have seems kind of excessive. More to the point, I have this gigantic balcony that I have no idea what to do with. There's something weirdly anthropological about this whole experience - it's like I was thrown in the middle of this spatial arrangement of a strange and unknown culture and have to reconstruct from scraps what it could be used for. Do I have to take up *gasp* gardening? How sinister! I guess that would be better than taking up smoking.
The exception to all of this is, of course, the kitchen - having my own kitchen is awesome, and certainly (after years of archaeological excavations where the struggle for living space in lodgings was the norm) having, all for myself, an entire fridge and a freezer in which to store all my sinister hipster-ish vegetarian experiments is a boon. A boon! I keep wondering if it's a boon that's actually worth paying like six hundred eurobucks per month for, but... at least it's something.
Still, when it comes down to it - for the things that I do on a day-by-day basis, all I really need is a computer, a desk, the aforementioned kitchen and a bed. Actually, now that I think about it, even the desk could probably be dispensed with. Shelves for my books and a chair to read them in are definitely a plus, but after that, I'm... stumped!
Well! I suppose being able to play old horror games all night without interruption could be considered an advantage of this arrangement! Of course, that might carry a sinister subtext...