Make yourself at home

I lived in every bedroom in the house I grew up in -- except the master bedroom of course. I tried to convince my dad to let me also try the basement or the den off the living room that we reserved for all of our musical instruments to stand sentry until we were ready for them again (I would have moved my bed under the piano, if he'd let me). For the longest time, I believed I kept relocating my things because I was fidgety and loved the purge of organizing everything in a new spot. I'd dump all my drawers, move them over one at a time and be forced to reconcile their contents: did these things make me happy? Did I need them or could I donate or trash them? It was my do-over.

Maybe it's because I grew up reading lots of books and watching sitcoms, but I always thought that a person's room says a lot about them. The way they decorate it, whether it is clean or dirty, what it smells like... Anytime I made a new friend and went over to their house and saw their room for the first time, I felt like I was learning something new about them. A bedroom, in my mind, was very much a tell of someone's character, for better or worse.

So what did that mean about me, then, that I couldn't settle down? That I had this urge every few months to get out and start over? To try again?

I think for a good part of my childhood -- the part that I was a bit more in control of deciding how I presented myself to the world, where I was slightly more in charge of the message and the delivery of said message -- I tried to show myself through my room. I kept attempting to make the spaces I slept in feel like home, feel like me.

I'd paint the walls, hang posters and tuck pictures into mirrors. I'd find string lights and lanterns and eclectic lamps. Curtains, blankets, stacks of books, new candles. I tried so hard to make it feel right, but I couldn't settle, and then I'd pack it all up and try again somewhere new.

It's strange to realize that my childhood home didn't feel like home to me, no matter how many versions of it I attempted. The first time I lived somewhere that that feeling really "clicked" was when I first moved to Annapolis and had my own place. It was all mine, it was safe and happy, and even though I was now stressed with "adult problems" like paying rent, I loved it. It was home.

It's fun now, living where I do now with Peter and Violet, seeing how we can make this small cottage in the woods our home. I love getting to watch it all come together. Bookshelves keep popping up, I now have a workspace in the office, and our bedroom is super cozy and has the greatest surround of windows. We've lived there for about four or five months now, and I count myself lucky everyday to wake up surrounded by trees, birds, and the ones I love most. It is nice, for the first time in my life, to be able to make myself at home with my own small family.

Annie Velenovsky

Joshua tree house, day 1

This past weekend was the best weekend of my life, to date. Peter and I had the opportunity to stay in a beautiful -- which isn't nearly a big enough word -- tree house next to a river in Bridgeport, Virginia. It's called the Joshua Tree House and this place had to have been built with magic. The tree house was so warm and cozy, with the most amazing woodwork (mahogany!), an outdoor tub (SO WARM!), a fireplace (EVEN WARMER!!), a skylight above the bed in the loft (STARS!!!!), and a deck that practically hung right over the water (!!!!!!!!!!) which must've been the river whitenoise machine companies go to when they want to record babbling riverbeds because damn that sound was peaceful (PEACEFUL!!!!!!!).

Somehow, we also lucked out and had a very warm weekend for the middle of January -- it was in the 50's, almost 60 degrees, which meant we also got to go kayaking. So yes, it was nice, and we had a lot of fun. I wanted to share some of my favorite pictures from our weekend, because now I'm plugged back into the real world, the government is shutdown, it's a Monday and I woke up to a parking ticket on my car. But at least I can look at these pictures and remember how nice the past three days were. I'll share pictures from day 2 soon.

By the way, if you're ever interested in a good AirBNB, might I recommend the coolest treehouse ever?

Check out day 2.

Settling

When I moved into my new place last week, I was coming down with a head cold. In fact, as I sit here writing this, I'm still fighting it off, surrounded by blankets, electrolytes, and tissues that claim to be "angel soft" yet leave my nose the brightest blazing red. It's fair to say these last few days have been difficult for me to navigate (adjusting to the newness of everything, trying to feel comfortable being sick in a place that doesn't quite feel like home yet, the anxiety of everything). But I'm doing it. Even when it is difficult, and when I'm at my low, I'm doing it. Take that, anxiety!

Slowly but surely, I'm settling in. I'm almost finished unpacking, just three boxes of books left to shelve and a million tiny things to organize. (This would have been done by now if I were able to go 10 minutes without needing to sit and blow my nose.) I can already tell I'm going to be really, really great friends with my four new roommates--all of whom, before I moved in, were strangers to me. And, as expected, I love living in downtown Annapolis.

I celebrated New Year's in my new place this year, and on reflecting of the craziness that was 2016, I entered 2017 with not quite a resolution, but more an intention: In all things, be passionate. It's my goal this year to do every thing that I do as well, and as thoroughly, as I can. I want to commit. I want to learn and grow and challenge myself unlike I had in years' past. I want to pay attention to and appreciate the small things. To start, I've tried to take notice of moments or details I find beautiful and interesting in where I'm living.

• I can hear church bells from every room.
• The sun coming through my window at 11:30AM is the softest and most serene lighting.
• Cars driving down the street in the rain sound like a restless tide, if you are just sleepy enough.
• Wrapping yourself up in 10 blankets is much more fun than adjusting the thermostat up a few degrees.

There's still a lot for me to get used to, living in this new place with new people. But I'm excited for the change it's bringing. And in other news: the semester starts tomorrow, so I'll be going back to school for the first time since getting my undergraduate degree. I can't wait (and also I'm very nervous).

   

Mid-Move

I have a love/hate relationship with moving. The beginning of it is always the worst: looking at everything I have to do; the mountain of things I need to sort through; the boxes I have to put together, fill, and then literally move. It's a mini-nightmare of mine. The upside of it all is that, by going through all of my things, I start to downsize. Each time I move (which has been a lot recently), I take boxes and bags of things to donate. I declutter, if only for a little bit. I clean house and get organized again. And really, there's nothing more I love than reorganizing all of my things.

The end result is always wonderful. It's the process I loathe. As a kid, I would want to move rooms every other month. Not because I suddenly didn't like my room, but because I could picture how I would arrange my furniture in the other room, and how I would organize it, and therefore have a beautifully organized space that would make everything in my life go so much smoother. As an adult, the mentality is similar, but the practicalities of actually moving homes instead of just rooms (e.g., forwarding mail, transferring services like rental insurance and cable, etc) are annoying. So I focus on the good and remember that each box I pack to take to my new home will be filled with only the things I really, really want. It's time to clean house, get organized, and donate what I don't need. What better way to start the New Year?