Searching for Suntanned Skin in a Pile of Dusty Confetti

We made the move and I don't think I've ever stubbed my toe more in my life. According to my very accurate and very real tally that I've been scratching into the wooden post on my bed, I've stubbed my toes one trillion and one times now. And don't even get me started on my funny bone; it's so far past the point of being funny that no one is laughing anymore; it's sad even. I've cried over broken hangers, in the bank, in the middle of busy crosswalks, searching for a reason to go on in the form of a flying bison-shaped cloud. It's hard to tell if our new spot satisfies with so many boxes piled up. It makes the apartment feel small, congested, and like we don't get that direct sunlight I swore I would successfully score. 

We have a patio, more of a rooftop, a deli rooftop where there's no lack of bacon egg and cheese fumes. To my decades-old vegetarian nose, it's surprisingly tempting... This patio gets split sun all day, be it diagonal, down the center, or whatever, but never full sun. Though my sun-soaked desires have unwillingly diminished, I know suntanned skin will be grateful for that sweet summer shade. I can see it now, sweating I'll say, "ugh, it's even fucking hot in the shade, jesus christ." Sunglasses on the brim, smoking bowl after bowl, yamming on whatever frostbitten ice cream treat I had to dive deep for in the deli's chest freezer before it melts down my somehow already sticky hands. Always already sticky. 

Moving yanked the worst out of me—the fits, the tantrums!! I didn't know they even let 5-year-olds rent apartments, but I suppose they made an exception for me. I don't want this entire entry to come off cold, but it was truly a treacherous experience. Going through my stuff was exceptional though, I've created SO MUCH ART! So many memories, and to only be in the space for one year I find my settling abilities truly remarkable. Even in this new space, a week later, still drowning in boxes, I've found the time to put art on the walls. It's always the first thing. 

My top priority is decorating, designing, and really making the space my own. I find myself customizing everything I own, stickers, custom paint jobs, monograms, keychains, heck my tattoos are a sticker sheet of their own!! How can I expect to leave any kind of legacy if I don't make things mine? Even my dust bunnies had smiley face stickers wrapped up in fallen hair and confetti from celebratory pops crumpled in corners, I'm everywhere, and I'm really fucking cool. I talked about feeling proud of myself in my last entry, and that pride stands true even during the deep clean. I'm proud of my dusty confetti, closing a chapter, though stressful, can be sweet. 

I knew I wanted to create a video taking my apartment apart when my uncle told me I should make a video taking my apartment apart. It's not a typical home tour, but it shows exactly when I wanted it to show- how I actually lived.

Enjoy <3

xo, O