Joy
The sun is out and it’s nice and warm in our room, which makes a change from the chilly spring air that has been sweeping through the room. Our attic room spans the length of the top of the house, but isn’t the width because there is a little bathroom and then the staircase after the landing outside the room. You would think that there is enough room for everything up here but two people’s lives coming together involves a lot of stuff. There are shelves of DVDs and shelves of books and two chest of drawers, a huge wardrobe with a cupboard attached, a huge four poster wrought iron bed (it’s lovely, all black curls and truly four poster), one desk, which we both share at opposite ends, two computers, lots of shoes, lots of bags of junk that need sorting and throwing out – you get the picture, I hope. Then there are lots of framed pictures on the walls, most of them framed in stylish black. I keep thinking I should change them around a bit because they don’t necessarily crowd the walls but it would be nice for a bit of blank purple wall. My walls are a dusky purple colour – not dark purple but not light lilac either. I chose a sort of grey ivory for the ceiling colour for some reason, but it works well and is warmer than plain white. I also have a dressing table where various makeup bags sit and the two drawers have my pyjamas and underwear in them.
Anyway, the reason I’m talking about this room, I think, is because I wanted to figure out what it is about this room that makes me feel more inspired than working in the living room downstairs. I have covered the plain white wardrobe with a collage of funky and interesting postcards – some of them with quotes on them, some with people I’m interested in (Frida Kahlo, Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn), some of them photos of family and friends. Some are random images that I think are interesting, like photography, art, vintage film poster images, illustration. My walls have some lovely pictures, like Vincent Van Gogh’s Cafe Terrace at Night (1888) which I have always loved and been drawn to. There is something uniquely ours about what we choose to put on our walls, even if people around the world have the same images on their walls. If something speaks to you, it speaks to you. Also, that is a bizarre metaphor – so does a picture really ‘speak’ to you?!? I wonder who came up with that?
I’m starting to get worried about my own lethargy when it comes to writing an autobiographical piece for the next TMA, so I think starting with my room is an interesting point of departure. It signifies how Dan and I are sharing our lives but it also signifies how my personality has changed yet stayed the same. I am obsessed with books – with stories and knowledge and beautiful pictures. I take immense pleasure in having beautiful and/or interesting pictures around me. I am both a very materialistic but very spiritual person, who wants more than just things – although things have the power to give me momentary joy. I value the more important things in life that make me joyful – love, laughter, deep discussions, friendship and music. Those things are almost imperceptible, but you know them when you feel them and see them. Material things can touch us deeply but at the same time I know that they’re not forever. Books are just ideas and stories, and they stay with us – yet you don’t have to actually own the book to be touched by it; it’s the same with art and music.
So I’m not sure how to break free of that paralysing fear that I don’t have enough money to buy the things that I desire, but I do know that they’re definitely not as important as spiritual happiness, the kind of happiness you can get from knowing there is someone you love, who loves you back. It’s difficult because human beings sort of waste those things – how many people let petty concerns get in the way of love? It may not be politically correct to say that money is just money, because I know how hard it is – I’ve been almost on the bottom of that myself. Yet you can’t survive without love – love of yourself, of a pet or someone else. They keep you going, when the world is crashing around you.
Maybe what is so scary about surrendering to love is that you are surrendering to something you can’t see or touch. Material love (roses, chocolates, all that jazz) isn’t love – it’s our society’s acceptable way of showing love, ie, romance. More precious to me, anyway, is that contentment you get when you’re watching a film and snuggled up with someone you love, or having a brilliant and sparkling conversation with your best friend. Sharing wisdom or being incredibly silly and pulling faces at each other.
I guess what I’m getting at is that my life at the moment is a bit so-so – I could do with more money, I’m struggling to get a grip on that article I have to write and the assignment that needs to be handed in next Friday, but I know there are things out there that make me happy and could do with some attention. I haven’t been in touch with my friends for a while and I feel a bit estranged at the moment. Dan is busy with his dissertation and Sarah is also in and out of the house a lot (my Sister). My Mum is not happy at work and my Dad seems a bit browbeaten at the moment. I don’t know what it will take to make everyone happy, but all I can do is be there and listen. Writing is my way of getting to that point of catharsis where I can just let go and be freer. I feel a bit trapped between trying to find a way to make money and trying to follow my dreams. What I want sometimes takes a backseat to the other concerns in my life – money, time, family. Then when I have time, I spend it procrastinating, no matter how I rail against myself to get stuff done. It’s time to push myself more and not be so afraid of getting things done and sorted.
So, I hope the sun is out wherever you are – and if it isn’t, then I’ll wish for sunshine for you…
