Sometimes trying to write is as painful as trying to write. I’ve been in Austin for a few weeks now and I’ve been trying to come up with some funny way to tell you what I’ve been doing. But I just haven’t been inspired. But because I know I have five readers dying to know my every move, tonight I’m going to try and write my first blog entry about Austin.
For starters, I should tell you that right now I’m lying on a mattress on the floor, which I pulled into my walk in closet. I was sleeping on two air mattresses when I first got here because they fit in my truck and the delusional part of my brain told me that they were rugged and bohemian. After a few nights, I decided that if I wanted to be rugged and bohemian, I’d grow a beard and wear hiking boots, because those air mattresses were about as comfortable as listening to parents tell the story of the first time they were intimate together.
So, back to why my mattress is in my closet. The window outside of my bedroom is pretty thin so I can hear a lot of outside noise. This closet is the most quiet room in the apartment.
I just killed a roach. Either it is the same roach I saw a couple of minutes ago or I seriously need to run to the grocery store tomorrow and buy a gallon sized can of Raid. When I killed the roach, it splattered something nasty on my sheets. So I just changed my sheets.
But back to Austin. The reason I came here for the summer is because I visited a couple of months ago with a friend and liked it. The people are incredibly friendly and there is a great running trail by the river. I also needed to be alone in my own space.
Having my own apartment is sweeter than pouring honey on top of pile of sugar that is covered in syrup. And floating in melted chocolate.
It’s been several years since I’ve lived alone. I didn’t really like it because I’m from a big family and I’m used to always having some sort of commotion going on in the background. Sometimes I would just turn the TV on even though I wasn’t watching it, just so I didn’t feel so lonely. Those are the things I remember about being alone. I didn’t remember all of the amazing things that go with living alone.
1. It is my apartment. I can leave dirty dishes in the sink for months. (Don’t worry mom. I’m not)
2. I can make a sandwich at 4 in the morning in my underwear and not worry about waking someone up.
3. I can take baths and listen to heavy metal music for 3 hours if I feel like it.
4. I am ruler of the thermostat.
I could continue with the list but I think you get my point. But there are other things which are less obvious that I’m enjoying now. And in a weird way, all of the things I’m doing are things that I used to do as a kid.
I’ve been sleeping in a sleeping bag. I have sheets and a comforter but I just enjoy sleeping in a sleeping bag. It reminds me of my first sleeping bag. It was covered in Indians. My parents gave it to me for Christmas. I loved that thing and would sleep in it year round.
The other night, I lay on the floor, surrounded myself with candles and read a young adult book for ages 8 and up. Then I blew out the candles and fell asleep right there in the middle of the living room.
Right now, as you know, I am laying in my closet on my mattress. And to tell you the truth, I kind of like it. When I was a kid, I used to play and sleep and pretend that I lived in all of the closets in my parents’ house.
So I guess the reason I moved to Austin was so I could be a kid again. Which is kind of weird because I was finally starting to feel like an adult. That’s called irony. I think I just figured that out.
Anyway, I don’t expect this blog to win any Pulitzer prizes but I just wanted to let the four people who read it know what's going on. I will keep you posted on how long I sleep in this closet. And how it feels to be a kid again.