Daily affirmations of a word mercenary
Homely Category
I lived in the house my parents built until I was 18 years old. Since then, on average I’ve moved at least once a year. Below, you can read all about my housing shuffles, apartments, househunting, and cozy homemaking. The summary since I started this blog in late 2000: Olympia, New York, Seattle, Los Angeles, Seattle. Spring of 2005, Andreas and I bought our first house in Seattle’s Rainier Beach neighborhood.
Tales From Dump-Truck Alley
1
Oct
2001
In: Homely
Another morning of black tea and the “shifting into reverse” chorus of “BEEP-BEEP-BEEP” from the daily dump-truck visit. I started my freelance-work-week early, up at 7:30 to make a pot of tea and hustle Andreas out to door to head back down to Olympia for school. I walked him out to the car and was overcome by the cool misty autumn morning. Memories of nauseous school mornings came rushing back to me, synaesthetically inspired by the combination of cool moist skin on my face, the early morning hours, and the sight of brown leaves limping down the sidewalk.
Last week I printed a simple “NO WAR” sign that I posted in my kitchen window that faces the alley. Last night I arrived home to find a note on my door from the landlord, reminding me that in the lease I signed, I agreed not to put any “signs or placards in or around the apartment building.” You’ll notice that the rule does not extend to flags. In other words, flying the ol’ stars and stripes is just fine, posting a “NO WAR” sign is against the rules. After spending a few minutes seething and trying to think of ways around the rule (writing something on my curtains? Tracing the letters out of spaggetti stuck to the glass?), I decided to drop the adolescent “piss off, landlord!” act and just put the sign on the chest of the styrofoam man on my fridge. You can see it from the window anyway.
So, here I am in Seattle! There’s a convenient internet cafe just down the street from my new place, and so I’m feeding my addiction at the low low dosage fee of 10 cents a minute.
The new apartment is fantastic–such a charming little space, with original lamps and tons of natural light (my apartment sticks out from the building, so I have windows on three sides), and lots of plants and trees around me.There are a few little issues (such as Andreas finding some screaming woman laying on the sidewalk out front last night) but on the whole I’m really pleased with the space. Now if I could only figure out how to arrange my three pieces of furniture…! Oh, and I need to figure out what to do about the fact that the three radio towers I’m in the shadow of interfere with my nice computer speakers. I can hear random radio stations practically louder than the MP3s I’m playing. Any advice?
Andreas went back down to Lacey this morning, and I’ve enjoyed the day home alone puttering in circles working on five different unpacking/cleaning projects at a time. Moving back to a city where you used to live is strange–all my friends are still up here, but they’re not used to me being around. My phone’s been pretty quiet, making me shake my head and say “What were you expecting? A welcome back party?” Makes me realize how disconnected I’ve been from Seattle. I always felt like I stayed in decently good touch, but I now think I was wrong.
Moving Update
27
Aug
2001
In: Homely
Just got word that the apartment I’m moving into won’t be available for me until Friday instead of Wednesday. Another week of Lacey. Lovely.
I will be moving back up to Seattle next Wednesday. I found an adorable apartment over the weekend: hardwood floor studio with windows on three walls, overlooks a little grassy courtyard on one side and the parking lot of one of Seattle’s largest health food stores on another. Classic 1920s-era brick building with lots of characer, two closets, right on the busline, tip top of Capitol Hill. And only (New York friends, prepare to grind your teeth) $650 a month. Proof that it’s perfect? They only need first and deposit and the lease is 9 months long, which is exactly how long I’d planned on staying, since Andreas finishes school in June. Then it’s down to LA. At least that’s the plan this week.
This whole “moving back up to Seattle” thing is very good. There is no work in Olympia, nor has there ever been, and my ability to telecommute has been minimized greatly by the inevitable slumping of the the dotcom world. I also have been a bit of an emo mess lately, as I always am when I don’t have my own space. Need I remind everyone that I am an only child? Andreas’ basement room is just fine, but it’s not MY space, and all my shit is in boxes in another room in the basement, so finding my own space in a place where there’s actually work for me is a really good thing (oh, and did I tell you about how my new personal biz cards are going to say “Ariel Meadow Stallings: Writer, Editor, Stater Of The Obvious”? Well, they are.) I will miss living with Andreas, but at least he’ll only be a short drive away instead of a four hour flight (as he would be if I were moving to NYC). We lived apart last year for six months or so, and I’m sure we can manage this year.
This is the theme for the summer, so while I apologize…get used to it.
Why do all the jobs I want have to be in the city where it’s so hard to live? I’ve had friends tell me “Oh you HAVE to stay in NYC! That’s where all the writers are,” as if that is a good reason to stay. Do I really want to join the army of broke struggling writers, fighting their way towards cynicism and success? Like it’s some sort of requisite “character building”?
I personally just can’t believe that the world needs another semi-hip 20something New York writer producing edgy narrative nonfiction while paying $900 to live in someone’s dining room and eating roasted mice for dinner. That market is saturated. Can’t you picture the job interview with the universe?
“Oh, hmm,” the universe would say, “I see looking at your resume that you pride yourself on your witty writing style and frank narratives. Interesting. Ever heard of Megan Daum? Oh, I see you also have some editorial skills and an affinity for bitching about apostrophes. Great, great. Looks like you’ve got a diverse family background and weird hair. Right. Yeah, I’ve never seen that before.” (You didn’t know the universe could be a sarcastic punkass? the universe has spent time in Manhattan, too.)
“Well, we’ve got a lot of those positions, but they’re all filled right now. If you’d like to intern for a while, we can’t pay you,” the universe will continue, “But if you prove yourself (and someone else either dies or burns out, leaving their position open) we can offer you $18k/year to start. …What’s that? No, we don’t offer relocation assistance. You’ll need to find your own roach-infested efficiency in Brooklyn. I hear the going rate is roughly $1k/month?”
My father gave me a copy of the Tao te Ching, and I’m trying to remind myself that the harder I fight this decision, struggling through it and making pro/con color-coded flow charts, the less likely I am to find the right choice for me. The best decisions of my life have always been instinctual and natural. I have to resist the urge to muscle my way through this one.
In other words, I can’t MAKE this decision. It has to make me.
This afternoon finds me flitting between several half finished projects including, but not limited to: packing up the house, cleaning, taking apart my broken stereo thinking (incorrectly) that I can fix it, writing a birthday letter to an old friend, and eating. I’ve packed up the crafts shelf, all my books (in small boxes for easy carrying, natch), and am starting on the biggest box of all:
Ariel’s Doo-Dahs.
These include exciting trinkets like my bottle of ARIEL 2000 non-alcoholic champagne, the woodburned plaque my father made featuring the log cabin he and my mother built and in which I was raised, my sin box that has a picture of Jesus taking acid on the side, and my entire My Little Pony collection. Other exciting bits include stuffed dragonfly toys, plaster masks of Andreas’ and my faces, and two trophies I won when I was in rabbit 4H. I never throw any of this stuff away. It just moves from house to house, displayed on window ledges, bookshelves, and bedside tables.
It’s a very strange thing, not knowing where the next bedside table my orange blowfish alarm clock will rest. I’m a big planning person, and at a friend’s party last night, I had trouble explaning that I’m heading to New York in a week and yeah, I’ll probably be back in the Northwest for a few weeks in August but then I’ll probably be moving…
Somewhere.
People don’t like to hear me say LA, but I have no idea if I’ll like NYC, and who knows? Maybe I’ll find a job in Rio or Denver or Sedona. I simply have no idea. Some people seem to think that’s exciting, but I have some (twitch-twitch) control issues about having no idea where I’m going next. I’m (twitch-twich) working through them, but it’s definitely being an exercize in just letting go and letting it happen.
It’s one of those gorgeous days out today. The sky is a brilliant shade of blue (deep, not pale) and the sunlight is filtering through the boughs of cedars and maple trees around my house. Birds are in full chorus, and earlier I think I heard a squirrel get its clock cleaned by a raccoon. It’s warm out. The ferns are uncurling and are at their greenest. It’s my favorite time of year, in my favorite place.
It’s moments like these when I wonder why I would ever leave this gorgeous area. I mean, really: I live in an amazing house in a beautiful forest…Why would I ever want to leave?
(Oh, did I forget to mention that Andreas and I will be giving up the house when I leave for NYC? We will. Then I’ll be New York until early August, back long enough to pack my shit and go for a couple hikes, and then it’ll be off to LA, SF, or NYC for work. Dre will stay here to finish his last year of school.)
Then I have to remind myself that I want to do more than sit in a beautiful place. I want to bring inspiration to the masses, and to do that I need to spend some time working (whoring?) my magic in a place where there’s a higher ratio of people to trees than we have here in Olympia, WA. It’s not that I don’t appreciate this place. Every morning I wake up and drink in the forest sounds, every night I enjoy the complete darkness and silence (I’m the girl who had to move out of a loft last year in part because I was convinced that the evil orange streetlights outside my window ate my soul while I was sleeping). I love it here.
But I’ve got the curse of being acutely aware of my purpose, and it’s to publish: bringing the inspired words of geniuses to the appreciative public (how’s that for industry idealism?). I might eventually be able to do that from a place as beautiful and verdant as where I live now, but I’ve got to put in some urban time.
That’s why, in one month, I’ll leave behind my house, my forest, my family, my boyfriend, and my security. It’s all very exciting, but (and?) some days I feel only terror.
- 0 Comments
- Tags: fear, new york city, olympia
What a dazzling morning! I made myself some rolls and tea and sat outside in the treezeebo (a gazebo-esque structure outside our backdoor that is built into four trees), and listened to the birds sing and enjoyed the sunlight crisscrossing through the forest. I saw a Pileated woodpecker work its way down and then back up a tree trunk, and listened to what could have been frogs or might have been crows croaking down the hill. It was fantastic.
To counter this lovely forest morning, I think I’m going to finalize my CPC application. Got to keep a little urban in there with the forest.
It’s another beautifully sunny day
12
Feb
2001
In: Homely
It’s another beautifully sunny day in Olympia. The birds are singing already, and the Indian Plum are uncurling their leaves. While it’s nice and all, I can’t help but comment on how creepy this winter has been.
I was up at an
2
Dec
2000
In: Homely
I was up at an ungodly early hour again this morning…out of bed by 7am, and I (get this!) cleaned until noon or so. What a weird thing! Granted, I’m not a very FAST cleaner, but still–I cleaned for a long ass time.
Other than that, a quiet day. Dre was up in Seattle last night and I enjoyed having the house to myself.
- 0 Comments
- Tags: housekeeping
Tales From Dump-Truck Alley
1 Oct 2001 In: HomelyAnother morning of black tea and the “shifting into reverse” chorus of “BEEP-BEEP-BEEP” from the daily dump-truck visit. I started my freelance-work-week early, up at 7:30 to make a pot of tea and hustle Andreas out to door to head back down to Olympia for school. I walked him out to the car and was overcome by the cool misty autumn morning. Memories of nauseous school mornings came rushing back to me, synaesthetically inspired by the combination of cool moist skin on my face, the early morning hours, and the sight of brown leaves limping down the sidewalk.
Last week I printed a simple “NO WAR” sign that I posted in my kitchen window that faces the alley. Last night I arrived home to find a note on my door from the landlord, reminding me that in the lease I signed, I agreed not to put any “signs or placards in or around the apartment building.” You’ll notice that the rule does not extend to flags. In other words, flying the ol’ stars and stripes is just fine, posting a “NO WAR” sign is against the rules. After spending a few minutes seething and trying to think of ways around the rule (writing something on my curtains? Tracing the letters out of spaggetti stuck to the glass?), I decided to drop the adolescent “piss off, landlord!” act and just put the sign on the chest of the styrofoam man on my fridge. You can see it from the window anyway.
So, here I am in Seattle! There’s a convenient internet cafe just down the street from my new place, and so I’m feeding my addiction at the low low dosage fee of 10 cents a minute.
The new apartment is fantastic–such a charming little space, with original lamps and tons of natural light (my apartment sticks out from the building, so I have windows on three sides), and lots of plants and trees around me.There are a few little issues (such as Andreas finding some screaming woman laying on the sidewalk out front last night) but on the whole I’m really pleased with the space. Now if I could only figure out how to arrange my three pieces of furniture…! Oh, and I need to figure out what to do about the fact that the three radio towers I’m in the shadow of interfere with my nice computer speakers. I can hear random radio stations practically louder than the MP3s I’m playing. Any advice?
Andreas went back down to Lacey this morning, and I’ve enjoyed the day home alone puttering in circles working on five different unpacking/cleaning projects at a time. Moving back to a city where you used to live is strange–all my friends are still up here, but they’re not used to me being around. My phone’s been pretty quiet, making me shake my head and say “What were you expecting? A welcome back party?” Makes me realize how disconnected I’ve been from Seattle. I always felt like I stayed in decently good touch, but I now think I was wrong.
Moving Update
27 Aug 2001 In: HomelyJust got word that the apartment I’m moving into won’t be available for me until Friday instead of Wednesday. Another week of Lacey. Lovely.
I will be moving back up to Seattle next Wednesday. I found an adorable apartment over the weekend: hardwood floor studio with windows on three walls, overlooks a little grassy courtyard on one side and the parking lot of one of Seattle’s largest health food stores on another. Classic 1920s-era brick building with lots of characer, two closets, right on the busline, tip top of Capitol Hill. And only (New York friends, prepare to grind your teeth) $650 a month. Proof that it’s perfect? They only need first and deposit and the lease is 9 months long, which is exactly how long I’d planned on staying, since Andreas finishes school in June. Then it’s down to LA. At least that’s the plan this week.
This whole “moving back up to Seattle” thing is very good. There is no work in Olympia, nor has there ever been, and my ability to telecommute has been minimized greatly by the inevitable slumping of the the dotcom world. I also have been a bit of an emo mess lately, as I always am when I don’t have my own space. Need I remind everyone that I am an only child? Andreas’ basement room is just fine, but it’s not MY space, and all my shit is in boxes in another room in the basement, so finding my own space in a place where there’s actually work for me is a really good thing (oh, and did I tell you about how my new personal biz cards are going to say “Ariel Meadow Stallings: Writer, Editor, Stater Of The Obvious”? Well, they are.) I will miss living with Andreas, but at least he’ll only be a short drive away instead of a four hour flight (as he would be if I were moving to NYC). We lived apart last year for six months or so, and I’m sure we can manage this year.
This is the theme for the summer, so while I apologize…get used to it.
Why do all the jobs I want have to be in the city where it’s so hard to live? I’ve had friends tell me “Oh you HAVE to stay in NYC! That’s where all the writers are,” as if that is a good reason to stay. Do I really want to join the army of broke struggling writers, fighting their way towards cynicism and success? Like it’s some sort of requisite “character building”?
I personally just can’t believe that the world needs another semi-hip 20something New York writer producing edgy narrative nonfiction while paying $900 to live in someone’s dining room and eating roasted mice for dinner. That market is saturated. Can’t you picture the job interview with the universe?
“Oh, hmm,” the universe would say, “I see looking at your resume that you pride yourself on your witty writing style and frank narratives. Interesting. Ever heard of Megan Daum? Oh, I see you also have some editorial skills and an affinity for bitching about apostrophes. Great, great. Looks like you’ve got a diverse family background and weird hair. Right. Yeah, I’ve never seen that before.” (You didn’t know the universe could be a sarcastic punkass? the universe has spent time in Manhattan, too.)
“Well, we’ve got a lot of those positions, but they’re all filled right now. If you’d like to intern for a while, we can’t pay you,” the universe will continue, “But if you prove yourself (and someone else either dies or burns out, leaving their position open) we can offer you $18k/year to start. …What’s that? No, we don’t offer relocation assistance. You’ll need to find your own roach-infested efficiency in Brooklyn. I hear the going rate is roughly $1k/month?”
My father gave me a copy of the Tao te Ching, and I’m trying to remind myself that the harder I fight this decision, struggling through it and making pro/con color-coded flow charts, the less likely I am to find the right choice for me. The best decisions of my life have always been instinctual and natural. I have to resist the urge to muscle my way through this one.
In other words, I can’t MAKE this decision. It has to make me.
This afternoon finds me flitting between several half finished projects including, but not limited to: packing up the house, cleaning, taking apart my broken stereo thinking (incorrectly) that I can fix it, writing a birthday letter to an old friend, and eating. I’ve packed up the crafts shelf, all my books (in small boxes for easy carrying, natch), and am starting on the biggest box of all:
Ariel’s Doo-Dahs.
These include exciting trinkets like my bottle of ARIEL 2000 non-alcoholic champagne, the woodburned plaque my father made featuring the log cabin he and my mother built and in which I was raised, my sin box that has a picture of Jesus taking acid on the side, and my entire My Little Pony collection. Other exciting bits include stuffed dragonfly toys, plaster masks of Andreas’ and my faces, and two trophies I won when I was in rabbit 4H. I never throw any of this stuff away. It just moves from house to house, displayed on window ledges, bookshelves, and bedside tables.
It’s a very strange thing, not knowing where the next bedside table my orange blowfish alarm clock will rest. I’m a big planning person, and at a friend’s party last night, I had trouble explaning that I’m heading to New York in a week and yeah, I’ll probably be back in the Northwest for a few weeks in August but then I’ll probably be moving…
Somewhere.
People don’t like to hear me say LA, but I have no idea if I’ll like NYC, and who knows? Maybe I’ll find a job in Rio or Denver or Sedona. I simply have no idea. Some people seem to think that’s exciting, but I have some (twitch-twitch) control issues about having no idea where I’m going next. I’m (twitch-twich) working through them, but it’s definitely being an exercize in just letting go and letting it happen.
It’s one of those gorgeous days out today. The sky is a brilliant shade of blue (deep, not pale) and the sunlight is filtering through the boughs of cedars and maple trees around my house. Birds are in full chorus, and earlier I think I heard a squirrel get its clock cleaned by a raccoon. It’s warm out. The ferns are uncurling and are at their greenest. It’s my favorite time of year, in my favorite place.
It’s moments like these when I wonder why I would ever leave this gorgeous area. I mean, really: I live in an amazing house in a beautiful forest…Why would I ever want to leave?
(Oh, did I forget to mention that Andreas and I will be giving up the house when I leave for NYC? We will. Then I’ll be New York until early August, back long enough to pack my shit and go for a couple hikes, and then it’ll be off to LA, SF, or NYC for work. Dre will stay here to finish his last year of school.)
Then I have to remind myself that I want to do more than sit in a beautiful place. I want to bring inspiration to the masses, and to do that I need to spend some time working (whoring?) my magic in a place where there’s a higher ratio of people to trees than we have here in Olympia, WA. It’s not that I don’t appreciate this place. Every morning I wake up and drink in the forest sounds, every night I enjoy the complete darkness and silence (I’m the girl who had to move out of a loft last year in part because I was convinced that the evil orange streetlights outside my window ate my soul while I was sleeping). I love it here.
But I’ve got the curse of being acutely aware of my purpose, and it’s to publish: bringing the inspired words of geniuses to the appreciative public (how’s that for industry idealism?). I might eventually be able to do that from a place as beautiful and verdant as where I live now, but I’ve got to put in some urban time.
That’s why, in one month, I’ll leave behind my house, my forest, my family, my boyfriend, and my security. It’s all very exciting, but (and?) some days I feel only terror.
- 0 Comments
- Tags: fear, new york city, olympia
What a dazzling morning! I made myself some rolls and tea and sat outside in the treezeebo (a gazebo-esque structure outside our backdoor that is built into four trees), and listened to the birds sing and enjoyed the sunlight crisscrossing through the forest. I saw a Pileated woodpecker work its way down and then back up a tree trunk, and listened to what could have been frogs or might have been crows croaking down the hill. It was fantastic.
To counter this lovely forest morning, I think I’m going to finalize my CPC application. Got to keep a little urban in there with the forest.
It’s another beautifully sunny day
12 Feb 2001 In: HomelyIt’s another beautifully sunny day in Olympia. The birds are singing already, and the Indian Plum are uncurling their leaves. While it’s nice and all, I can’t help but comment on how creepy this winter has been.
I was up at an
2 Dec 2000 In: HomelyI was up at an ungodly early hour again this morning…out of bed by 7am, and I (get this!) cleaned until noon or so. What a weird thing! Granted, I’m not a very FAST cleaner, but still–I cleaned for a long ass time.
Other than that, a quiet day. Dre was up in Seattle last night and I enjoyed having the house to myself.
- 0 Comments
- Tags: housekeeping
Hey there. I'm Ariel Meadow Stallings, a native Seattleite who's written my way up and down the Left Coast. Electrolicious is where I post daily randomata, but I also write for a living. My first book, Offbeat Bride, was published last year.
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