Ick!! Aah!! Run away!!

An unspeakable creature, one of monster descent, that I utterly dislike and, even, ever so slightly fear, and which is utterly disgusting appeared in a lower room just now…
I captured it in a cleaned out cottage cheese tub with a yogurt tub lid, both of which I quickly found in the kitchen cabinets of the shared section of the kitchen.

I set it all outside the back door, and quickly stepped away, leaving it to the wolves (so to speak, anyway, since we don’t exactly have wolves living freely around here).

Now, I am diffusing peppermint oil in my room like no other, because we need to keep my room, especially, clean and free for me – only I, Hannah, live here right now… you get that, World?

Okay, good.

Anyway, hopefully the person in charge of managing this sort of thing will act first thing tomorrow morning, after seeing my message tonight… I want this handled, you know?

😛

Ugh… eew.

They just freak me out.

Uuhhhhh… ::shudders subtly yet somewhat violently::

Post-a-day 2019

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I promise, we’re adults

I guess it is because people once had little kids living in this house, that my bedroom door has the lock on the outside, but that doesn’t change the fact that my friend and I got locked in my room this evening while moving my furniture and stuff out of my mom’s house. 😛

So much for feeling like grown-ups after our brief scheduling chit-chat in my room. 🙂

Post-a-day 2018

Creating my space

Today’s first step was to create this vision.  It was rather easy to create, really.  And I can see it all quite clearly.  I am really struggling with what will come next, though, and I don’t know why I’m bothering resisting it.  I think the feeling is that it will be difficult to do, and that I will mess it all up somehow.  I guess I could just bracket the concerns, and go into it full-heartedly and consciously, with intention.  Otherwise, I’ll just keep resisting and getting nothing useful, happy, or good accomplished at all.  😛


I wake in the morning happy, have some tea or hot chocolate, and do some yoga, stretching, and meditation.  I dress easily in clothes selected last night.  As I check my reflection in the mirror, I am delighted in what I see all around.  On the days I want it, I sit down at a large mirror and put on some makeup.  Otherwise, I just brush my hair.

I have a work space with a sewing machine, and clothes rack behind it with my current and most recent work hanging.  There is an asel in the corner with beautiful and happy painting supplies.  An art box is near it, filled with the art supplies I use, and a small arrangement of blank canvases.  There is lots of white in the rooms, but a warmth from different home-y pieces around… mostly shades of blue and wood-brown.  I have a place to set my laptop on a desk (after pulling it out from a shelf or drawer, where it was put away) to work using it, with a notebook next to it for thoughts and notes.  My woven stool sits in the corner for sitting, reading, meditating, with my sheepskin partly atop it.  There is a large rug or two on the floor, with a few feather throw pillows around casually.  I make bracelets and malas on the floor, and always pick up everything when I finish a session.  I have a creative collage happening on one wall – a dream board.  I see it and admire it every day, and add to it occasionally, as I find new pieces I want to have be part of it.  My work room is a haven of peace, giddy delight, and the creativity of God and Woman.

Sometimes, I sit with tea while music plays on the record player.  I do my art – sewing, painting, or making my stone bead art (bracelets and malas, mostly) – and usually have music playing, often on the record player.  It sits to the side, with a small set of albums by it.

My bedroom is calm and cozy and inviting.  It is very clean-feeling.  I spend my time here mostly only after I have recently showered.  My essential oils and incense are set up in here.  When I get ready for bed, I have a set place to put my dirty clothes, and it is small – just large enough for a load or two of washing, and always slightly empty.  I select between two or three beloved shampoos and conditioners when I shower, and I wrap myself in towels that I love when I finish.  It is easy to pull out my floss, toothbrush, toothpaste and return them to their easy places.  The same with the rubbing alcohol and Q-tips.  Sometimes I have another tea after my shower and before brushing my teeth.  I brush my hair and meditate, before doing my bedtime reading, all in the light of fairy lights and maybe a standing lamp in the corner with similar light.  I pull out my clothes for the next day after I check the expected weather.  I fall asleep happily.

In all of this, I did not see my own clothing.  It is all put away, except for the outfit I have selected for the day, which is laying out, waiting for me.  I have a small section of “Memory Materials” in, I think, my room, for my future partner and/or child/ren to peruse with and without me.

I read, but I didn’t notice any books in the vision I created.  (Just about four of them.)  I also noticed no movies…  


 

I had to talk with my brother about the book part.  He thinks I’ve hit upon something profound about the way I want to live and the relationship I have with books.  I have them all documented as “Read” and “Want to read” on GoodReads, anyway, so why do I need to keep a physical record?  I’m not 100% convinced that I’d be happy down the road if I didn’t keep a handful of my sought-out books from my youth, but I do believe that I am fine letting even more go than I had ever anticipated… I mean, I already went through them briefly today, just to see how I felt when I looked at them from this new perspective, and pulled out about a sixth of the books… with ease and comfort.  So, yeah…  This will be an adventure.  I am certain of it.

Post-a-day 2018

Tasty Ice and Salt

Do you know what a salt lamp is?  Well, I just realized that I have one.  And it’s in my room.  And I’m quite excited about it all of a sudden.  And, naturally, feel a silliness rising, too.  You see, with salt lamps, just like with ice sculptures, I have an urge to lick them whenever I see them illuminated.  Okay, the illuminated part isn’t exactly the same with ice sculptures, but the licking desire is.

I remember my brothers’ dad’s wedding over a decade ago (I think that was the occasion, anyway), and how there was an ice sculpture there at the reception.  My cousin commented how she wanted to lick it – perhaps it was a swan, if I remember correctly? – when we were standing in front of it.  ‘So, lick it,’ was approximately my response.

Sure enough, she licked it.  We both did, actually, because her desire rubbed off onto me somehow.  (It actually started a trend for me, for whenever parties have ice sculptures.  I remember shocking a few classmates, when I casually passed by and licked a huge ice sculpture at a school event.)  We were still kids, but we knew well enough that it was not a normal behavior, and so were stealthy about it.  But we totally licked the ice sculpture.

Now, I have a similar situation with salt lamps.  Though, since they aren’t something that will melt away in a matter of hours, and they’ll stick around for quite some time afterward, and have been around for a while, I don’t lick them.  Usually, though, I just touch it gently with a finger or two, and then smoothly lick the salt off my fingers.

Of course, now you know about my sneaky – and somewhat weird, really – habits at parties and salt-lamp-containing spaces.  Just don’t give me away, okay?  If anything, give the ice sculpture thing a go yourself.  It’s surprisingly rewarding, the whole affair.  ;D

Post-a-day 2018

Nighttime Window

I open my window at night… late, late at night, when I am awakened to heat by the sounds of someone climbing the stairs to go to bed in the middle of the night, though I never know it at the time, and neither does the stair-climber.  My room is hot, too hot for comfort, especially in the middle of winter, even though it is Houston.  I crawl to the edge and climb out of my bed, down to my shoes, and stumble to the bathroom to relieve my suddenly compressed bladder.  When I return, the heat hits me like a physical wall of warm fabric floating just inside my doorway.  I stumble back to my bed, letting my shoes fall as I climb into it.  I sit for a moment, considering…  The lights are off, so it is all right.

I lean forward on my hands and knees, and I slide open the large window a few inches, before sitting back and relaxing, waiting for the cool air to stream firmly into my room.  I always consider going to sleep with the window left open.  I always close it after only a minute or few, so that I may go back to sleep, at ease.  I want the cooling air, but nothing else is welcome.  In Houston, many a thing might aim to make itself welcome through an open window at night.  And I really don’t want to wake to a rat diving between a stack of boxes.  I want to keep this room clean, please.  And so, I shut the window every time, even though I’m never quite cooled off enough for good rest.  Each night, I silently wish for a screen for the window, while disregarding the wish, because I wasn’t to see the world clearly through the window, whether closed or open, just free of screening… so it cannot be.

So, I open my window at night, out of practical reasons, but silently wish to experience the magic I feel is waiting just outside, waiting in that cool, crisp, winter wonder air.

Post-a-day 2017

Missing…

I miss my bed in Japan. My bedroom, especially, is one thing I miss most these days. It was a haven for me. No matter what kind of chaos or boredom lurked in my life, every night, my bedroom awaited me in calm, open, and empty space… in beauty. I shut my doors, and was safe in my retreat from everything else. Only love and blessings were ever allowed into my bedroom. I wasn’t even allowed to walk in it if I hadn’t recently showered. Clean clothes, my ukulele and ukulele music, my nighttime books, and water and tissues were just about all that ever went in there, aside from a clean me and my bed.

My bedroom now is slightly larger, but filled with boxes and stuff… a sentimentality to which I am not so sure I still want to cling. I think I am afraid that I will forget the memories, if I get rid of the objects. I do not, for the most part, want the objects, but the memories and the ways I felt. Without the objects, what will remind me?

Post-a-day 2017

Making space in my life

Today, I spent almost an hour going through clothes, organizing, folding, and putting them away into a dresser, etc., as well as going through four boxes of books and organizing them better and putting them onto a bookshelf.  I have two new small sections of floor visible in my room.


That’s a message I just sent to my brother.  Tomorrow onward, I have to spend at least 15 minutes each day, doing cleanup/clean-out in my bedroom and/or bathroom, six days a week.  I am reporting the completed tasks to one of my brothers each day.

This has been one of the most difficult things in my life, moving to a near-minimalist lifestyle.  We have this bit in our DNA, in our blood, that has us sit as though we need hoarding in our lives.  My brothers and I have been intent on freeing ourselves from its grasp.  I am the youngest, and have spent the most time with the family who exudes the gene so obviously, so I am the last to reach my own breaking point – I will live free of this.  Now, I am simply dealing with my own laziness and exhaustion after a full day of work.

For the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t able to get rid of things.  I had clothing, among other things, that I did not want to wear.  And yet, I could not get rid of it.  Today, I noticed that, if the cashier girl had complemented my bracelet, I would have offered it to her willingly.  And this isn’t just any bracelet – it’s one of the natural stone bracelets that I made.  I love these bracelets.  It is as though I am two different people in these two scenarios.  The difference was what happened one day in my apartment.

I was looking around at my colorful explosion of clothing all over my wall bedroom floor.  I enjoyed the color and the explosion at first, but I’d wanted it to go away after, at most, an hour…, and it hadn’t, and I knew it wouldn’t.  I didn’t even have enough space to store all of the clothes around me, so putting them away just wasn’t an actual option.  After some amount of time, I found myself crying, sobbing, really.  I don’t want this stuff, I cried to myself passionately, so why can’t I get rid of it?  And then the revelation hit me: I would be wasting my mom’s hard-earned money.

My mom was a mom initially, once she started having children.  After she and my dad split up, she had to take on a more full-time work schedule, on top of being a mom.  And she was a massage therapist, so her work was physical labor.  I grew up knowing that the money she earned took a good amount of effort.  It kind of was “hard-earned money”.  And, for me, if I ever were to get rid of something, I felt to my core that I was wasting my mom’s efforts.  And it applied to just about anything I had, whether it had come from her or not.  I just couldn’t get rid of anything, because I subconsciously saw it as a sort of slap to my mom’s face, theoretically, of course.  That very day, when I found myself sobbing on the floor amongst my clothing, and I discovered this simple fact, I was able to begin getting rid of things.  By the end of only a few days, I had two or three huge trash bags of clothing ready for donation.  (My cousin went through them first, just to pull out whatever she would use gladly from it all, because we always do that, anyway, and then she dropped them off at the place by where she lived.)

After that week, my struggle has just been laziness.  I have a couple decades worth of things that have been living at my mom’s house.  I have gone through about 15 years’ worth of boxes and bags so far, and things are really looking up.  I have accumulated less and less these past several years, and so I really only have about 7 years’ worth of things left  to clear out.  I know of, I believe, two boxes in the attic, and an unknown number hiding somewhere in the garage.  Otherwise, I only have two and a half small boxes remaining in my room from childhood.  The rest of the boxes are from my apartment, and I don’t exactly have a need to be unpacking kitchen supplies, nor getting rid of them, when I’ll just need them all again in another couple months.  I do, however, want to verify that I don’t have any excesses in those boxes, though that will wait until I finish getting rid of all of the other stuff, and possibly until I am actually moving, depending on the timeframe.

My plan is to finish things with my bedroom by the 30th of December at 11:00p.m.  Then, I’ll have January and February (and hopefully cool weather) to do whatever needs to be done with the garage and attic.  After that, I can move to helping my mom with whatever I can around the rest of the house.  And then, possibly, grad school begins, and I decide where I will reside.

Anyway, that’s just what’s on my mind right now.  I feel good about what I accomplished tonight, though I know I need to take things slowly, which stresses me.  If I spend too much time on it all, two things will happen.  I will get burnt out quickly, and stop doing things altogether to clean up/out, and I will get too little sleep, and suffer for it.  So, as much as I dislike taking so long on all of this, the task moves from daunting to doable, when I split it to 15 minutes a day, six days a week.  And that means that I can have it all be happening while I’m still working over full=time.  I’m looking for a beautiful and easy transition to January, and that includes a clean, clear, and organized room, with an easy place to work.  So, I’m hopping to it, and I have my brother helping me to stay accountable, in spite of my laziness.

Post-a-day 2017