“Moving is fun” – that’s what I keep telling myself as I dig through boxes in search of underwear and tights. I’d lived in my old nest for over three years – longer than I’d lived anywhere since I left home at 18. I loved the old house so much, it was like a a safe getaway from the stress and noise of the big city. The old place really was like a nest – the second story of an old Spanish style duplex, it was surrounded by trees and plants. In the morning birds would chirp sweetly, drowning out the sounds of nearby lawn-mowers and the neighbor’s music. At night a neighbor’s water fountain sounded like a running stream, and would flow in rhythm with the cars that passed by few and far between. And on especially quiet Springtime evenings a blackbird would sing into the night as if it knew that everyone was lying awake in bed, letting their realities and dreams intertwine on the moonlit ceiling… at least that’s what I imagined as I lay awake in gratitude for moments like those.
The new place was different. All the rooms smelled like varnish – the scent, the property manager stated, would go away in about a month. I moved in on a Saturday night. As I unpacked and washed my kitchenwear (which was sparse at the time as I had decided to get rid of most things… different… I wanted things to be new and different)… loud Greek music echoed up from the second floor and penetrated my apartment through the thinly paned windows and the apartment hallway. I was doing an almost passing job of drowning it out with acceptance and Slaughterhouse – until I heard what would prove to be a repetitive battle cry for the party – “OPAH!!” I began to question if I liked the “new” and “different” I had just moved in to.
In all fairness, my tolerance is damn low for actions I deem to be inconsiderate. And Saturday or not Saturday, I take shouting with windows open an act of disregard and disrespect. But I saw myself gripping to old notions of control and “how things ought to be”, heightened by fear and sleep deprivation from the move. So instead of going downstairs and telling them to S-the-F-Up, I took a deep breath, put in earplugs, and went to sleep.
The days following have been good – uncomfortable but getting easier each day. The smell of varnish is still the first thing I contact when entering my new apartment, and the loud music has been my alarm clock a couple of times… but the scent is starting to be replaced by the fragrance of flowers from friends, and I’ve made an extra attempt to appreciate the sound of other people’s musical tastes (I also just got new speakers that will help Watch the Throne reach all corners of my apartment). I’m living alone for the first time in years – and for the first time I feel like the other shoe (probably) won’t drop. My life is consistently changing and growing in ways I never considered an option. I like this trajectory.
New and different is great – and I’m grateful for change no matter how challenging it may feel in the moment. This move was a good reminder that when life gets uncomfortable, sometimes you just have to say, “Opah!”
Leigh Myles's Blog 