the final night

it's 2:25am and i'm sitting here, at my desk, for the last time. tomorrow (well, actually, in less than 12 hours) i'll be moving out of the wonderful room i've had for the past one year, and moving into a new studio apartment, down at the fringe of town. i'm excited about the move; i've been looking forward to it for weeks now. i've shifted a large majority of my stuff over already, and even managed to unpack and put everything in its new place, so all that's left for me to do tomorrow is to check out of where i'm living now, and take the remainder of my stuff with me. i am going to miss this place tremendously, though. i can't help but think how lucky i was to be able to get this room - great location right in the middle of the city centre, great view overlooking the city and the docks, plus the room was brand-new when i moved in, meaning i was the first person to occupy it. and my wonderful flatmates - all lovely, simple, down-to-earth people, who made sharing a flat much, much more pleasant than i thought it would be.

i was just thinking tonight, how many times i've moved in the past 6-odd years. the longest time i've spent in the same apartment is two years. the shortest, 6 months. no, actually, one night. it was in a place called Pantai Puri, one of the less-popular-for-obvious-reasons student halls at uni. the room was horrendously horrible, a room that i could not imagine anyone living in. the place was filthy. there was moss(!!) growing on the bathroom walls, and the "wardrobe" was the size of a gym locker. there were 8 people to a room so small there was just barely enough room to move around the 4 bunk beds, with mattresses so thin i could feel the bedsprings. there was a communal study area, and everyone's desks faced the wall. there were more atrocities, i'm sure, but obviously my brain has blocked those memories out. self-preservation. i remember calling my mum in tears that first evening, crying that i couldn't live there, it was worse than any place i'd ever been in, there were cockroaches and rats all over the place (exaggerating just a wee bit there, always helps my case), please getmeout getmeout getmeout!! within the hour i was in the car of a real estate agent, on my way to view a 3-bedroom apartment in a rather pleasant neighbourhood not too far away from the uni, with beautiful parquet flooring and a large living / dining area. talk about two sides of a coin! the lady who owned it was looking to rent out 2 of the rooms; i signed the contract for one room the same night, and in 6 months i rented the other room too.

okay, so reading that, i realise i come off as sounding like a pretty spoilt kid who couldn't bear roughing it out. well, so maybe i am. i am spoilt. i like my little luxuries, like bathroom tiles that aren't furry. like flats shared with humans and not rats or cockroaches. i am also very lucky. lucky to have been blessed with parents who want to spoil me. parents who can't bear to think of me being miserable. and i do take that for granted sometimes. okay, maybe lots. but roughing it out, i sure can do that! as long as it's within proper context. as in, if i were out camping, i don't mind knowing that i'm sharing a bed with bugs and worms, shivering my teeth off, swatting mosquitoes. i might even enjoy it. because it's all part of the package. but living? give me a soft bed, fluffy pillows, scented candles and a warm bath, or give me death! well, maybe not.

anyway i've veered off on a tangent here so let's get back to what i originally wanted to talk about: permanence. i left home when i was 17 to go to college, and since then i've been moving from one place to another, which is just typical student life, i guess. i am getting just a little bit tired of it, though. i can't wait to be able to just sit and stay at one place. to grow roots somewhere. to have someplace i can call my very own. my home. what about home home - the home i grew up in, you wonder? well, there is that. but i actually find myself getting all restless when i'm home home, and sometimes, although i know i shouldn't, i feel like i don't quite belong. i don't know where my mum keeps stuff in the kitchen, there's always something different every time i go home, the dogs my parents have aren't the dogs i grew up with anymore, everyone has their own schedule, their own activities, and i'm just bumming around the house, not really doing anything much beyond existing. so, yeah. i'd really like my own place. plus, i really, really, really hate moving - packing, unpacking. not my favourite thing to do. especially when i finally realise how much stuff crap i own when i have to move everything from one end of the city to the other.

oh, the down-side of my oh-so-exciting new apartment is, there's no internet access, and i don't think i'll be getting it fixed because i may have to move (again!!) in a few months' time. so hopefully this means i'll be making more trips to the studio (where there's WiFi), and more time spent working at the studio too, and meeting up a little bit more regularly with my tutor.

anyways here's some of the stuff i have left to pack and bring over tomorrow in 9 hours' time.