Musings, post cocktail

My toes are freezing! Why are my toes always freezing?! I've got a super legit space heater rotating in my room, set for 2 hours to make falling asleep manageable. Yet my feet freeze. 

Today was FULL. I woke up early. Earlier than everyone else at my parents' house. The house was quiet, full of heavy breathing, but eerily quiet. Baby wasn't even stirring. Brie was contently snoozing beside me in my childhood room. The room is spare at this point in time, due to changing tenants over the past few years. My grandad lived there for about a year, but now he is dating a younger woman named Sharon and they live down by the beach, which he loves and it suits him perfectly. Brits love to bask in the sun and he is no exception. Now, Andrew and Amanda live in that room because Forrest has pretty much taken over Amanda's room. So whenever I go home, I end up sleeping on the couch downstairs. I don't really mind, but it does bring up a lot of funny feelings when I do end up sleeping in my own (old) room upstairs. It doesn't feel like my room at all. There is a pile of old keepsakes in the corner--yearbooks, photo albums and the like, but other than that, it's completely foreign. Brie fell asleep fast last night and when I was trying to sleep I looked out the window and saw the lingering Christmas lights and listened to a gentle wind sigh around the place. It definitely felt nostalgic, if not familiar. I remembered the younger nights of my life spent in that space. Nights filled with late night phone calls to my crushes, nights with Sarah giggling under the cover. Nights with my sister when we pretended we were asleep when my parents came in to check on us and we hid under blankets, not fooling anyone. Nights when I cried myself to sleep because someone broke my heart. Nights when I looked out my window and saw my neighbor staring up at my from the courtyard. Nights full of emotion and love and despair and peace and confusion...that was my room. That was my space. But it doesn't feel like it anymore. My "room" doesn't exist anymore. No, not really.

Now that I've lived in my apartment for a full year (I can't even believe it, you guys!), I am finally feeling like this is my room. This is my space. I'm curating a whole new set of ideas, emotions, people, memories and feelings and this space isn't going anywhere for quite some time. Katie and I signed a two-year lease, so I'm here to stay (for at least another year). I think about this frequently now--what do I want from this space? How can I make it feel like my own little corner of the world? I've been devoting time and attention to it lately--buying rugs, bringing in a space heater, filling my shelves with memories from the past year. It's definitely beginning to feel like my home. But with my constant travel (most often to OC), I still feel like a vagabond. I would love for my family to come and see me from time to time. It would be fantastic to stay put for more than a week. Maybe that can be a resolution for this find consistency within my stay put. Find some balance. Feel centered. 

All this will come. Of that, I'm sure. But not just yet. I need to make a few more trips down south. My best friend is leaving for Korea in 4 days. My heart is breaking, but I know it's for her betterment. I cry often and hard thinking about what we'll miss in our friendship, but I know it will stand the test of time and space and distance. I love her with all my heart and that's all I can do.


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