I grew up sharing a room with my brother. He had the top bunk. Which meant, sometimes weights would fall from the sky, punk music was played, wrestling moves were practiced, lego was built, books were read, hair colours changed, fashion tips were shared through observation and then he moved out when I was 12. And until the age of 14(?) I lived in a dark blue room by myself.
I then moved to my nanas house, in a tiny dark room, walled by bookshelves. It was the room I read the start of the Belgariad. Its where I first attempted the lord of the rings. I learned the beginnings of guitar there. I built my first theme park, knitted my first blanket, and felt lonely for the first time in that dark dark room. After a while I moved into my nanas old room, it was humongous. It was also the computer room. That’s all I remember. We moved home and I moved into my sisters old room. White walls, huge, well-lit windows. I began teaching guitar in there. I wrote my first script, I played computer games and slept in for the first time, arriving at work 30 minutes late. That was the last room I owned at my parents house. Since moving out
That was the last room I owned at my parents house. Since moving out
Since moving out I have long term stayed occasionally in my original room, or a tent, or my sisters room. But that was the last one I had my bed and floor rug how I moved it to be. I moved to the south part of town, into a room with a double bed. At first it was sparsely furnished. and not until I moved to the next room did I decorate it with weird photos. that’s where I got my second room mate. Luke. we shared a room for two years. red metal bunks, two computers, a messy corner (mine) and the rest of the place was neat. Sometimes it smelled weird. but most of the time it was excellent. It was where I would sleep from 6am till 12pm and luke would sleep a normal persons time. When the house reshuffled,
When the house reshuffled, I then returned to my first room. Got my first book shelf, almost filled it, got a new computer, my own mattress, and enough clothes to almost fill my strange closet. That was the room I learned how to sleep in. My two years of insomnia was largely beaten in that room. I wrote a lot of songs, read a lot of books, and got dressed for my across town job at 5am. I remember the day I moved out of that room. With my computer in the middle of the otherwise empty room. I moved from there to Newcastle. A shared room with my new friend john. For the first period of
A shared room with my new friend john. For the first period of time, we didn’t really talk in the room. just slept and journaled quietly. But as the time went we started talking a lot more. I learned a lot in that room from that guy and the dudes that lived next door. we had a bunk bed each after which our bedrooms changed every week. One week – a goat farm in
One week – a goat farm in thailand. The next week, the second storey of a multi-story in a university town in east thailand. Next week bangkok. next week an apartment in Kiev, next week a campsite north of kiev, next week back to the apartment and then home to a different room in Newcastle. We shared a lot of space, a lot of conversations, a lot of honesty. we made our rooms our own, setting out journals and ipods and smells in specfic places. and on and on and on. I have shared a lot of rooms with a lot of people. Some more home than others. One year i even had a competition with a new friend to see who stayed in more beds. I won by at least 15.
A room is made home by the comfort found or extended, the ownership allowed over the formation of the room and those included in the room. One of the more home-ish rooms i have found was in a classroom on a hill in the middle of east timor. 2 girls three boys. it was hilarious and freezing and hilarious.
I wonder if heaven is going to be a big comfy room, with everyone sleeping in it. Farts and all, just giggling and snoring and dreaming.