"A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction." -Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own
I never realized how much I completely missed having a door on my room, until I no longer had one. The way the house is set up, the upstairs is the bedroom, but there isn't a door because it would be awkward at the bottom of the staircase and would crowd the hallway. Without a door, the sounds from the rest of the house carry upstairs. I can plug my laptop in the kitchen, hook up speakers, and blast Best Coast and be able to hear Bethany Cosentino's melodic voice throughout the entire house. From the foot of the bed, I can hear Kyle cracking a beer in the kitchen, I can hear Liam digging through the drawers in the library, I can hear the guys watching the Tiger's game on TV (and also arguing with each other about sports things), I can hear Mariah's phone getting a text message, and of course the asshole dogs barking at everything, always, because asshole dogs.
Doors don't just help keep the noises of daily life a bit quieter, they also are barrier to keep the room shut off from the rest of the world, at least for a little while. Back in the old apartment, most of the blogging, or reading I did was in the office. The office was a bit of a garbage pit, but, because it could be so easily closed off, everyone forgot about it. Now? I have Kyle barging up the stairs to get pajamas, the dogs jumping in my lap, and Liam trying to steal my Ipod charger.
I live in a noisy, restless environment, and most of the time I really enjoy it. There is something annoyingly comforting about coming home and not knowing if the house is going to be empty, or full of people. To open the fridge and find questionable leftovers that are not mine, to discover seemingly endless amounts of beer stashed all over, or to be just getting out of the shower and finding Mark getting the firepit going in the backyard. This amount of exposure to others would have clawed at the inside of my mind two years ago, but now it is almost endearing. I appreciate how much I have been able to let go of so much of my control freak tendencies, and be more open and accepting to the world around me, instead of constantly being disappointed in how things don't go my way.
However, I still need space. I need a few hours of alone time to edit, and prep blog posts. To sit and read comic books, to get dressed without someone barging in the room, and to occasionally get a good night's rest (because listening to someone else's alarm go off three times before 4 am, due to their 5 am shift is loads of fun, I am telling you!). Though I do not have money to spare, or any fictional short stories buzzing around my mind currently, a room of one's own is much appreciated. Even for a few moments of updating a conversational, personal blog.
I never realized how much I completely missed having a door on my room, until I no longer had one. The way the house is set up, the upstairs is the bedroom, but there isn't a door because it would be awkward at the bottom of the staircase and would crowd the hallway. Without a door, the sounds from the rest of the house carry upstairs. I can plug my laptop in the kitchen, hook up speakers, and blast Best Coast and be able to hear Bethany Cosentino's melodic voice throughout the entire house. From the foot of the bed, I can hear Kyle cracking a beer in the kitchen, I can hear Liam digging through the drawers in the library, I can hear the guys watching the Tiger's game on TV (and also arguing with each other about sports things), I can hear Mariah's phone getting a text message, and of course the asshole dogs barking at everything, always, because asshole dogs.
Doors don't just help keep the noises of daily life a bit quieter, they also are barrier to keep the room shut off from the rest of the world, at least for a little while. Back in the old apartment, most of the blogging, or reading I did was in the office. The office was a bit of a garbage pit, but, because it could be so easily closed off, everyone forgot about it. Now? I have Kyle barging up the stairs to get pajamas, the dogs jumping in my lap, and Liam trying to steal my Ipod charger.
I live in a noisy, restless environment, and most of the time I really enjoy it. There is something annoyingly comforting about coming home and not knowing if the house is going to be empty, or full of people. To open the fridge and find questionable leftovers that are not mine, to discover seemingly endless amounts of beer stashed all over, or to be just getting out of the shower and finding Mark getting the firepit going in the backyard. This amount of exposure to others would have clawed at the inside of my mind two years ago, but now it is almost endearing. I appreciate how much I have been able to let go of so much of my control freak tendencies, and be more open and accepting to the world around me, instead of constantly being disappointed in how things don't go my way.
However, I still need space. I need a few hours of alone time to edit, and prep blog posts. To sit and read comic books, to get dressed without someone barging in the room, and to occasionally get a good night's rest (because listening to someone else's alarm go off three times before 4 am, due to their 5 am shift is loads of fun, I am telling you!). Though I do not have money to spare, or any fictional short stories buzzing around my mind currently, a room of one's own is much appreciated. Even for a few moments of updating a conversational, personal blog.
*Edit: I might have to share this room on occasion.
- 4:23 PM
- 19 Comments
