On the importance of one's own personal space...
I have my "office" or as I am thinking of it now, "my writing room" back.
This has been the big project of the last week and it is still ongoing, the shelving and reorganization of my library according to a personal system where everything is where I can get to it quickly, Some of the big books (my Oxford English Dictionary, my New Grove (yes I have both as well as a full Encyclopedia Americana) have been moved and re-shelved. I made a stab at organizing my paperbacks. And I rebuilt my little Beatles shrine consisting of action figures of the Fab Four in full Sergeant Pepper drag, right down to George with green hair and a giant Sousaphone. These are action figures I bought years ago when I was first decorating this apartment but have since been relegated to the many piles of clutter that have blighted this placein the last two years. A matching set of Blue Meanies occupies a different bookcase.
The room is bathed in a warm and enviro-friendly golden light from behind me, picking up the blonde furniture and red accents. This is a deliberate contrast from the rest of our home, which is primarily blue and beechwood. The walls are still somewhat slapdash--I have new posters and paintings and prints to put up but have not yet trusted myself to clamber up the ladder that lies folded against one bookcase.
This room was going to pot, and its salvation lies in the efforts of one green_kohai who took it on herself to clean like the dickens and work her butt off when I was away at camp in June. Her initiative a in reorganizing the bookcases got the ball rolling. It is not quite all the way there yet but it is pretty damn comfortable in here.
By getting rid of an old couch, moving a chair, and rearranging bookcases in a way that made more sense both in terms of space and feng shui she did wonders for the flow and energy of the room. The next step was the timely arrival of our friend Dave, who fixed this room's ceiling fan, making it bearable in the summer as the room has no AC. Now, as I write this, it is cool and comfortable, with an IKEA reading chair, a reading light, a (much) cleaner desk and a place to put my things and some mementos from my life. There are owls, Uglydolls, electronics, Marvel comics busts, and a plethora of little brass and bronze statues that add a lot to the room's character.
When Em agreed to move in with me, I knew there would be some sacrifices. And while we love each other to the ends of the earth, my own lack of personal "Paul-space" has had a severe negative effect on our daily relations. It has manifested in me being a modern Ignatius Reilly, a snarling brooding mass on the couch, truly happy only when I had the apartment all to myself during working hours. Now that I have this space it is easier I think for us to co exist and there will be less squabbling. I NEEDED this.
So here I am as the muted television natters away in the other room, at my desk with its window and view of 44th Street and the park, a few Uglydolls and owls scattered about, and the dulcet tones of Leontyne Price singing Leonora in the greatest recording of La Forza del Destino ever put on tape---the one with Price, Domingo and a young Jimmy Levine on the podium. Act I just ended.
I think I am in heaven, and I'm just home for the night.
All for now
The Owl (in his nest)
This has been the big project of the last week and it is still ongoing, the shelving and reorganization of my library according to a personal system where everything is where I can get to it quickly, Some of the big books (my Oxford English Dictionary, my New Grove (yes I have both as well as a full Encyclopedia Americana) have been moved and re-shelved. I made a stab at organizing my paperbacks. And I rebuilt my little Beatles shrine consisting of action figures of the Fab Four in full Sergeant Pepper drag, right down to George with green hair and a giant Sousaphone. These are action figures I bought years ago when I was first decorating this apartment but have since been relegated to the many piles of clutter that have blighted this placein the last two years. A matching set of Blue Meanies occupies a different bookcase.
The room is bathed in a warm and enviro-friendly golden light from behind me, picking up the blonde furniture and red accents. This is a deliberate contrast from the rest of our home, which is primarily blue and beechwood. The walls are still somewhat slapdash--I have new posters and paintings and prints to put up but have not yet trusted myself to clamber up the ladder that lies folded against one bookcase.
This room was going to pot, and its salvation lies in the efforts of one green_kohai who took it on herself to clean like the dickens and work her butt off when I was away at camp in June. Her initiative a in reorganizing the bookcases got the ball rolling. It is not quite all the way there yet but it is pretty damn comfortable in here.
By getting rid of an old couch, moving a chair, and rearranging bookcases in a way that made more sense both in terms of space and feng shui she did wonders for the flow and energy of the room. The next step was the timely arrival of our friend Dave, who fixed this room's ceiling fan, making it bearable in the summer as the room has no AC. Now, as I write this, it is cool and comfortable, with an IKEA reading chair, a reading light, a (much) cleaner desk and a place to put my things and some mementos from my life. There are owls, Uglydolls, electronics, Marvel comics busts, and a plethora of little brass and bronze statues that add a lot to the room's character.
When Em agreed to move in with me, I knew there would be some sacrifices. And while we love each other to the ends of the earth, my own lack of personal "Paul-space" has had a severe negative effect on our daily relations. It has manifested in me being a modern Ignatius Reilly, a snarling brooding mass on the couch, truly happy only when I had the apartment all to myself during working hours. Now that I have this space it is easier I think for us to co exist and there will be less squabbling. I NEEDED this.
So here I am as the muted television natters away in the other room, at my desk with its window and view of 44th Street and the park, a few Uglydolls and owls scattered about, and the dulcet tones of Leontyne Price singing Leonora in the greatest recording of La Forza del Destino ever put on tape---the one with Price, Domingo and a young Jimmy Levine on the podium. Act I just ended.
I think I am in heaven, and I'm just home for the night.
All for now
The Owl (in his nest)