I get into my room and close the door and the world is mine. I am away. I am detached. Flying free.
It's not a very big room, or glamourous. Say three metres square - enough room for my bed, my desk, two bookshelves and a small space to stand up in in the middle. The floor is wooden and I've placed a fuzzy black bathmat beside the bed for when I step out of bed. Bit of luxury for the feet, you know.
The walls are covered with my paintings of various sizes and using removable hooks I've hung a few dozen nicknacks. A little Mexican skeleton, a smiling heart, a poker medallion, Indian dream catcher. The ceiling is high; which I like and appreciate. I've covered the window pane - comprised of three single, metre long, opening-out windows (always open) - with a mesh I found in a cupboard to keep out creepy crawlies. There are, however, spider webs in every upper corner. I don't mind them. Sometimes I see a spider and once I saw a tiny mouse.
When I come in here, I almost always close the door. It's my retreat. I eat my breakfast (sliced fruit in bowl - watermelon, papaya, kiwi, banana, passionfruit), in here every morning. When I say morning, I mean my morning; it's actually closer to lunch time more often than not. On the rare night that I am not out at a poker tournament, I will eat my dinner in here (salad or scrambled eggs), too.
After I have done all my net surfing, research, writing and creative stuff of an evening, say around midnight or one, I will drag the small folding desk away from the wall and closer to my bed. There I have set up some pillows and cushions in the corner against the wall. Instant lounge room. I plug in my TDK cordless headphone jack into the back of the Mac and click open the orange cone logo for the VLC player. From my hard drive I select an episode of my latest favourite series. Could be anything ranging from a Canadian cooking contest (Chopped Canada) to the latest UFC bouts to comedy like Portlandia or Parks & Recreation. If I want a snack, I'll have those rice disks that everyone loves with some hummus. I've been meaning to make my own, but I usually buy it. Sometimes, I'll add a dollop of sweet chilli sauce to customise it. If I am still watching something around two am, I'll make a coffee with one of those Robert Timms coffee bags. It doesn't stop me from sleeping when I am ready.
I share the house with two others; a girl and a guy, both around my age. We are all peaceful, quiet, creative. Karen designs and makes unique, luxurious garments and Mikey is a substitute highschool teacher and a high ranking chess player. There's a herb and vege garden outside and a roving chicken. There's a caravan up the back and Scotty visits a few times a year. He makes a living on the stock market. We are all single and OK with it. You get to a certain age and realise that being in a relationship is not the redemption, the reward, the necessity that you used to believe. I feel lucky to be in a household with two other decent and compassionate, respectful people.
But I still close my door. I like being alone. Withdrawing. Letting time float by. I like the night. I like silence. I like the feeling of being mildly stoned that comes from just being really mellow and peaceful, solitary. Sometimes I just lie on my bed and think about things. Sometimes I drift into slumber and dream magnificently. Days and nights can blur and blend, weeks can go by without a ripple. I don't mind. I know the path leads nowhere/never ends. I am in no hurry. My needs and desires are minimal these days. It's easier. Nothing to prove, nothing to lose. I appreciate nature, children, humour from any source... I appreciate still being around to see and experience whatever happens. I delight in my own limitations and insignificance.
In my lifelong struggle for liberation, I have found it in a little box. Alone at my desk or prone on my old bed. Soulful, serene and satiated by simplicity.
It's not a very big room, or glamourous. Say three metres square - enough room for my bed, my desk, two bookshelves and a small space to stand up in in the middle. The floor is wooden and I've placed a fuzzy black bathmat beside the bed for when I step out of bed. Bit of luxury for the feet, you know.
The walls are covered with my paintings of various sizes and using removable hooks I've hung a few dozen nicknacks. A little Mexican skeleton, a smiling heart, a poker medallion, Indian dream catcher. The ceiling is high; which I like and appreciate. I've covered the window pane - comprised of three single, metre long, opening-out windows (always open) - with a mesh I found in a cupboard to keep out creepy crawlies. There are, however, spider webs in every upper corner. I don't mind them. Sometimes I see a spider and once I saw a tiny mouse.
When I come in here, I almost always close the door. It's my retreat. I eat my breakfast (sliced fruit in bowl - watermelon, papaya, kiwi, banana, passionfruit), in here every morning. When I say morning, I mean my morning; it's actually closer to lunch time more often than not. On the rare night that I am not out at a poker tournament, I will eat my dinner in here (salad or scrambled eggs), too.
After I have done all my net surfing, research, writing and creative stuff of an evening, say around midnight or one, I will drag the small folding desk away from the wall and closer to my bed. There I have set up some pillows and cushions in the corner against the wall. Instant lounge room. I plug in my TDK cordless headphone jack into the back of the Mac and click open the orange cone logo for the VLC player. From my hard drive I select an episode of my latest favourite series. Could be anything ranging from a Canadian cooking contest (Chopped Canada) to the latest UFC bouts to comedy like Portlandia or Parks & Recreation. If I want a snack, I'll have those rice disks that everyone loves with some hummus. I've been meaning to make my own, but I usually buy it. Sometimes, I'll add a dollop of sweet chilli sauce to customise it. If I am still watching something around two am, I'll make a coffee with one of those Robert Timms coffee bags. It doesn't stop me from sleeping when I am ready.
I share the house with two others; a girl and a guy, both around my age. We are all peaceful, quiet, creative. Karen designs and makes unique, luxurious garments and Mikey is a substitute highschool teacher and a high ranking chess player. There's a herb and vege garden outside and a roving chicken. There's a caravan up the back and Scotty visits a few times a year. He makes a living on the stock market. We are all single and OK with it. You get to a certain age and realise that being in a relationship is not the redemption, the reward, the necessity that you used to believe. I feel lucky to be in a household with two other decent and compassionate, respectful people.
But I still close my door. I like being alone. Withdrawing. Letting time float by. I like the night. I like silence. I like the feeling of being mildly stoned that comes from just being really mellow and peaceful, solitary. Sometimes I just lie on my bed and think about things. Sometimes I drift into slumber and dream magnificently. Days and nights can blur and blend, weeks can go by without a ripple. I don't mind. I know the path leads nowhere/never ends. I am in no hurry. My needs and desires are minimal these days. It's easier. Nothing to prove, nothing to lose. I appreciate nature, children, humour from any source... I appreciate still being around to see and experience whatever happens. I delight in my own limitations and insignificance.
In my lifelong struggle for liberation, I have found it in a little box. Alone at my desk or prone on my old bed. Soulful, serene and satiated by simplicity.
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