Moving sucks
Packing and moving is a pain in the ass. This is my moving week, and everyday I go home to a giant mess which needs to be thrown into boxes and taped up. I've realized that most of what I own are books, and books are especially difficult to pack and transport. Updating addresses, canceling and reestablishing services, that's all a hassle, too. If I make it to Saturday night, all my stuff intact, I'll treat myself to go see Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World.
Unpacking is fun, though. Empty spaces supporting an infinite number of possible arrangements. When everything is all boxed up, those first few days in a new house are like living in a ski lodge, or a giant tent.
Mostly, I look forward to compartmentalization of the various pursuits of my life into their own rooms. An office, a writing and video editing space, with just my books and computer equipment. A bedroom with just a bed. An entertainment room that's just about watching movies and listening to music.
Clarity and focus of function, clarity and focus of thought. It was why in college I always went to the library to study, to the basement cubicles to do research. I had to have absolutely no distractions around me, nothing except blank white walls, fluorescent light, the text I was studying, a pen, and blank paper. Perhaps, depending on the subject, I'd allow myself some music, but the soundproofing nature of the private cubicle walls was boon for my concentration.
In fact, I think at times I need to unplug my computer from the cable modem so I can't surf or receive e-mail. It's too easy in this day/age to devolve into purely an information consumer, addicted and passive.
Unpacking is fun, though. Empty spaces supporting an infinite number of possible arrangements. When everything is all boxed up, those first few days in a new house are like living in a ski lodge, or a giant tent.
Mostly, I look forward to compartmentalization of the various pursuits of my life into their own rooms. An office, a writing and video editing space, with just my books and computer equipment. A bedroom with just a bed. An entertainment room that's just about watching movies and listening to music.
Clarity and focus of function, clarity and focus of thought. It was why in college I always went to the library to study, to the basement cubicles to do research. I had to have absolutely no distractions around me, nothing except blank white walls, fluorescent light, the text I was studying, a pen, and blank paper. Perhaps, depending on the subject, I'd allow myself some music, but the soundproofing nature of the private cubicle walls was boon for my concentration.
In fact, I think at times I need to unplug my computer from the cable modem so I can't surf or receive e-mail. It's too easy in this day/age to devolve into purely an information consumer, addicted and passive.