My Own Apartment

I was going to begin by writing about my apartment, but I have state something first... Normally, I write, re-write, delay, finish writing, edit and publish a blog post. Later, I'll re-read the post and only then find the problems with broken video links, bad spots of grammar and ugly formatting. Finally, I'll take a look at how many people read it, because that's what we all do with our social posts nowadays.

Don't you even TRY and tell me you don't or wouldn't do such a thing. DON'T TRY THAT ON ME. We live in the 21st century! This is how the world works! We SURVIVE on artificial gratification!!!

... But aside from the numbers, I really don't know who ends up reading this, only that the internet collects your credit card information the number of pageviews and each view's country of origin. I looked at this the other day in some detail. Apparently, people in OTHER places are reading this too. Do I have this many friends in these places? I honestly can't remember... (My bad memory and lack of keeping-up-to-date with people's lives on facebook is about to bite me in the ass for this...)

23 views from the U.S.?  Did I really befriend that many Americans?       yikes 17 views from Vietnam?  Who do I know that lives in Vietnam?
11 views from Germany?  Maybe I should use more WWII memes...

Well, now that you're here, I guess it would be rude of me not to begrudgingly welcome you in, since you've already invited yourself over... More than that, enjoy rummaging through images of my own HOME , I hope you sick bastards enjoy looking at my OWN PERSONAL BELONGINGS when you haven't even met me in PERSON!   

Or maybe you do know me and I'm being incredibly paranoid and xenophobic... 

But for real, enjoy. Please have a seat anywhere you like and make yourself comfortable. If you like what you read, or have a question for me, or you're a smart-ass that thinks I could network my writing somehow (like printing the link on postcards and hand them out at alternative music shows), leave a comment. Or you can say nothing. Or you can do what you want, since (I assume) you're an adult. I probably wouldn't do this if people didn't like it, but then again I went to school for jazz performance and that didn't stop me.

But, thank you for stopping by. Enjoy your stay. That's all I wanted to say about that. 

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I am currently writing this entry from the confinements of an apartment inhabited solely by myself. I'm sitting on a couch I alone have ownership of, this word document displayed on a TV of my own, having a coffee I made myself, all while thinking about what I can make myself for dinner for a nice night in. It's a very nice day outside, but I opened a window so I can pretend I'm participating in outdoor activities. That's how that works, I think.

I recently moved into a 1 bedroom apartment in the east end of Hamilton, Ontario. It's an old three story walk up, it's affordable and functional, and there's parking on the street. It's got doors & windows that open and close, walls with places for the electricity to come out, and a floor that is mostly flat. That's kinda what I was looking for, so that worked out just fine. There's even a rear patio. 

I can't install a BBQ or hot tub because of
"Safety Reasons" or something

I can even pretend to like sports from the comfort of my own home

While I'm quite content with things here now, I definitely miss my old place. Being able to have tasteful brunches with the roomie, crack open the liquor cabinet while reminding myself that I own a liquor cabinet (like someone who runs a bank or railroad company), and to otherwise entertain friends with food, drinks and dutch blitz. With a smaller apartment, less disposable income, and no roommates, it's a definite change from the past. This place is a lot quieter, and it's a lot easier to stay right where I am for a full day of saying "no thanks" to healthier or more active things to do with my time. If I so choose to spend the rest of the day on the computer designing and growing little cities into big ones, I don't need to explain myself or otherwise be accountable to anyone else. If I decide to eat a very large quantity of leftover butter chicken right out of the Tupperware container, SO BE IT. And if I happen to spill a little bit of food or drink on my clothing, there is ZERO need to get up and change, or feel any differently on the matter, because it's my home and not a single person can tell me what to do. 

I wonder how long this feeling will last... Maybe these choices will slowly morph into bigger, badder, worse habits that will turn me into a Netflix watching, video-game playing, record-listening snob of a shut-in. I just won't think about that right now...

Not long ago, I used to be intimidated at the thought of having to be on my own, mostly because I am not good at alone time. I am very not good at alone time. I am so not good at alone time that it is often the fear of impending alone time that pushes me to invite friends over to make deep dish pizza, to throw a Cinco de Mayo party, or to co-cook a thanksgiving dinner for 25 people throughout the course of the day (In case anyone's feelings were just damaged, I also enjoy spending time with people, in case there was any confusion). But in general, being on my own for prolonged periods of time hasn't been something I've looked forward to or usually enjoyed very much.  I wrote a little about this topic almost two years ago when I first moved to my own place in Macau and ran into the same anxiety-ridden issues I mentioned in the beginning.

Since then, I think that (or at least I'd like to hope that) I've gained a few more skills in managing myself and in being able stay in a healthy state. Perhaps for that reason, or for something I can't remember because I'm getting very forgetful these days, things are actually pretty okay. Maybe it was the prospect of a big change that intimidated me the most. In fact, I can say without sarcasm or dishonesty, or the other qualities I put into my writing to construct a façade of functionality and competence, that things are actually just fine.

No, not just "Fine"

But "Just Fine"

Writing this post also lit the fire under my ass to do a proper cleanup of the apartment, rather than just a "put that over there, or in the drawer, or in the sink or somewhere" type of cleanup, forcing me to keep working beyond what is normally the 30 minutes of enthusiasm I have towards keeping my place at least a tiny bit clean.

So here it is. My own apartment.

Bathroom

It's just a bathroom

It's got all the bathroom things you need to use it as a bathroom. It's got a cabinet to put things. It's got a sink for drowning bad thoughts in. The tub can be used for showering, or if I've got an entire evening free and want to cram all six feet of myself into a tub, I can have an uncomfortable bath. It's got toilet for sitting when I don't feel like standing. And yes, I did put those three hooks in myself. I can also screw and UNscrew any light bulb on the premises, all by myself. Didn't know I was so handy eh?

It's also got a floor made of lil' things

Kitchen

It's a kitchen

Yes, that is a Dutch picture. Very good eye! 

The rest of the room

Of course there's a selection of hot sauces

There are counters and cupboards, holding items that are food and also items that are not food. There's an oven to make things hot, and a fridge to make things cold. Although, I think it has a very poorly fastened compressor or other component inside, because it knocks VERY loudly when shutting on or off. It was this noise that initially convinced me I had very upset neighbours that were less-than-politely reminding me to keep it down. Other than that, it's just a room that the food goes into, and comes out of. It doesn't matter if I'm eating or a bowl of cereal for dinner or a wheel of brie cheese for breakfast. It's just for me. 

When there are no dinner guests, there are no dinner standards. 

I know it's spartan, it's meant to be that way. I'm not going to fill it up with decorations and "artisan" "hand-made" crafts made from old barns because it's a kitchen. It's meant to be easy to move through, easy to work in, and easy to clean. It's not supposed to be your safe sector or spiritually grounded zone or whatever people call the places they light incense, do yoga, and ingest fair-trade oat bars and organic chia seed pudding to feel like they're one with the earth and not just another broken human being. If you think you can do a better job decorating, then keep those thoughts to yourself because you don't live here. It's a kitchen. How hard can a kitchen be?

Unless of course, you're going to decorate the inside of the fridge. In that case, by all means help yourself and fill it up with whatever you wish. Without a roommate or others in the house to keep on top of the food in the fridge, the fresher items will usually go bad right before I remember I have them and want to use them in my cooking. With a short grocery list and a poor memory, you'd be lucky to find anything more than a few half eaten, poorly wrapped, soon-to-expire food items. I can now say with confidence that there are few things in this world more depressing than the interior of a single man's fridge.

It might as well look like this

Bedroom

There's a window

And a closet on the left side

It's a bedroom. It has a bed, and a dresser, and a closet. I still need to get a desk. If you think I need to snaz it up in some way, please remember that this is in fact, just a bedroom. I'm not there for the atmosphere, nor the scenery, nor the food and beverage. Hell, I rarely go into the room when it isn't dark. (Watch me proudly state this like a smart ass and then go and get a bunch of tacky old car advertisement poster and slap them up on the walls...)

Living Room

This was the one room I kinda sorta wanted to make an effort to be a nice place. Between too many trips to Ikea and sifting through kijiji, I was able to set myself up with some cozy furniture and other things that go in rooms besides furniture. For the Canadians reading this blog who aren't aware, Kijiji is the holy grail for all things used; Cars, Cats, Cameras, you name it, it's got it! Best of all, you can SIT on your COUCH and do the shopping from there and not have to get up until it's time to go pick up your item!

A friend of mine was a big help with choosing plants
and a lil piece of wood to put them on

Oh my, what handsome car is that on the street?

Unfortunately, not everything works as well as kijiji. Ikea became my four-stop shop for things that cost too much money to put in the house. I realized that while those handsome swedes try their best to make Ikea a nice place, I am not the kind of person who can remain enthusiastic for the entire 3-hour stretch that it takes to journey through the entirety of the country-sized department store. By the time you reach the warehouse/checkout section, you not only have to remember the ridiculous Scandinavian names of the items you need, but you've got to measure each item to see if it'll fit in your car, or else you'll have another pain-in-the-ass chore to complete. Once you've got everything loaded up on the cart to the extent that it becomes be a workplace safety hazard, you've then got to painstakingly maneuver your overloaded and cumbersome cart between packs of unsupervised children, fussy couples, weary parents and other bumbling shoppers who are just as close to the end of their ropes as you are. The temptation to leave your things and get back in your car and go home is incredibly strong, even if it means skipping the hot dogs and cinnamon buns near the exit. If you feel this, leave your cart where it is, go to the AS-IS section near the checkout, and lay on one of the returned furniture pieces until your spirits recover. After a full-night's sleep to recover, and some assistance to assemble my new purchases, I was able to outfit the living room with a liquor cart, TV stand, coffee table, a few other household doodads, and a big comfy couch. I had a few things of my own to bring (mostly bedroom stuff), with the dining set, red chair, kitchen cart & appliances all coming from Kijiji for less than a hundred bucks total. 

All the work was worth it. The couch is large and comfy,
and the bar car is stocked and ready.

Being an idiot, I decided to enable all my bad habits by assembling the largest entertainment unit that could fit into the room. The T.V. was my guilty purchase that I interally justified as a present for myself "because I stopped earning money in China and started spending more money on rent in Canada", AKA a "moving in" self-gift. Yeah. It's pretty big. 

I think it's pretty sweet. 

I combined it with my dad's old stereo system and my 2 year old desktop computer. Using my technological skills, I was even able to connect my television, computer, record player and amplifier to a pair of something-inch large speakers to make a home theatre system that is sure to keep me indoors and entertained, rain or shine. The entire system is controlled from the couch via a wireless mouse and keyboard, which makes for a simple, convenient, and imposing setup.

I still have yet to receive my first electricity bill (more on that in a minute), but until then, I'm going to assume that this is a fantastic setup with absolutely no drawbacks. All this makes for a most excellent setup for all sorts of electronic entertainment. In fact, you could say I enjoy every kind of electronic entertainment the 21st century of PC gaming has to offer: WWII Strategy video games, WWII naval combat video games, WWII aircraft combat video games, medieval adventure video games, medieval strategy video games, medieval infantry combat video games, and of course, WWII infantry combat video games.

So now I have myself set up. I'd like to think that now that I have a home, I feel more happy and complete as a person. In fact, I'm going to go on believing this until an undetermined time in which I'll react with a successful impulsive decision or a clumsy, costly and entirely preventable mistake made by an impulsive decision.

That's where I'll leave it today. Thanks again for stopping by, friends and strangers.