MOVING HOUSE: How Can I Feel Better about it?

Always hated the implications of this phrase, sorry (then again, 'being a man' has always deeply uninterested me -- being human, that's something else).

Having moved recently back into an apartment life with neighbors around from a standalone house, I thought I would be more annoyed than I am; as it turned out it was the best thing possible. But then again, sounds like you have a slightly murkier situation and I don't blame you for being worried about debt, having recently escaped that particular hellhole myself.

I think you could do worse than actually talking to her about it. Bottling this up -- or posting it on a board she might one day want to read for whatever reason! -- seems a poor way around it. This is something you're both in on and if there are doubts and concerns, best to bring them forward.

are you certain she wants to move (and for example isn't thinking something similar to you: viz, "I better go through with this or Alex will be sad etc etc")?

staying for now isn't the same as staying forever
(tho also moving in somewhere new isn't the same as staying THERE forever)

TS: old ppl vs space => if yr going to feel culturally hemmed in, is that really an improvement on being physically hemmed in? which is worse (in the short term)?

Sorry, Ned, I feel exactly as you do. It's just a figure of speech.

talking to her about it.

Oh, I have done. It's not like she can't tell it's bugging me, anyway. I just don't want to belabour the point.

... posting it on a board she might one day want to read

She's really not an internet gal at all, actually. Couldn't give less of a fuck about doing things 'online.' She'd rather read a book or go outside.

but those pix of your apartment are f-in great. I am so v. jelous.

Thanks, yeah, but I'm leaving this place. See why I'm upset?

how much moving sucks, y'know like packing everything and heaving it up and down stairs

Yeah, that stuff sucks as well....and I've been doing lots of it. Still, the physical labour aspect of it ain't what's bummin' me out.

Well, yeah. We originally were toying with the idea of trying to buy the place next door to us instead (he was selling at the time) and breaking through the wall, so to speak. But, he was asking waay too much for us, so we had to abandon that idea.

She loves this place too, but not to put too fine a point on it, you simply could not have children in this particular apartment....there's simply no room. So, basically, that's precisely why we're moving: to accomodate this next phase of our marriage/life togeter/etc. Don't think that's not stressing me out as well.

As far as cranky old people neighbors, whatever. I can live with it. I served on our co-op board here for six years, and I'm now reasonably well versed in dealing with neighbor vs. neighbor grievances.

hehehe...if this is what it's like now then I just want to see her when you start playing yr killing joke albs (even if you listen using headphones).

I'm sure once she's unsolicitedly introduced to the majestic fury of all things Killing Joke, she'll have a thing or two to say.

http://killing-joke.com/demonteeth2.jpg

And then I say good-bye and leave with the fervent wish that the love I've felt will be passed along to the new residents - that they will celebrate within the walls as well.

And I move into my new space and try to keep my mind on the new opportunities that new home can offer - I think about guests and friends and lovers and family and parties and celebrations and conversations and tears of sorrow and tears of joy and laughter and new books and new music. And I look at the new opportunities offered by the new home and start to bond with the space.

One major thing I've found that helps me to settle in - a party with loved ones, to consecrate the space and make it ours.

I know all of this sounds corny and new-agey and such - but it's helped me and it might help you and your wife, as well.

I don't know that I have much good advice- I'm one of those silly people who loves change & moving... I get more stressed if I feel too rooted in one place and too calm. I've moved around a lot over the last couple years, I always found that once my comfy armchair arrived & I put it in front of a window & spent a few evenings reading in it, then I'd start to feel happier about where I was; sort of a nice favorite blanket effect. Good luck, though. You'll settle in somehow.

The new place'll be fine. Got the ol' cable/Roadrunner hooked up today, so I can resume my fanatical posting on ILM (and elsehwere), and even splurged for the DTV cable package (perchance to see some antiquated Joke vids on "Classic VH1") As I said before, once I've sold the old place (whenever that may be) and get some closure, I'm sure that'll act as a catalyst towards moving on, but it's just like a big open wound right now.

We haven't sold it. We've had a few bids, but those prospective shareholders have either either turned out not to be too realistic (their financials or personal vital statistics not up to speed in one capacity or another) or they vanish into the proverbial thin air without the courtesy of an explanation.

BF: Um, who is that?
Me: Who?
BF: The guy in the corner. Crying.
Me: Oh, that's my friend Alex. He comes here and cries sometimes, I just ignore it mainly, sometimes I give him a cup of tea.
BF: Do you have ANY friends who aren't massive toolbags?

(huge fight erupts over whether or not everyone I know is a tool, Alex gets annoyed and lets himself out, wishing he never sold his house to imbeciles)

Ally awakes to find BF beaten, bound and gagged with a rooster mask on, sitting in the middle of a pentagram painted on the floor, the legend Honor The Fire, Heretic hastily scribbled on his chest with a red sharpie.

As far as Killing Joke approving, I'm inclined to believe they'd rather see things burn.

http://www.an-irrational-domain.net/images/jaz/new1.JPG

Though I think that Killing Joke, outside of the whole "fire, honor the" thing, would approve wholeheartedly of antics like him and his brother hacking open walls in an apartment near St. John's, filling them with hamburger meat, and then nicely patching them up, to revenge their landlord. AVOID LIVING IN APARTMENTS NEAR ST. JOHN'S. ONE OF THEM STILL SMELLS OF ROTTING MEAT.

I guess my only question is what did the landlord do to deserve it. The best I got was that he yelled at the group for being too loud.

You know, perhaps you don't want to sell your apartment to me. I am in the process of purposely destroying my current living space to get revenge on my landlord (ie my workplace), and my friends have worse track records...

This is all exacerbated by the fact that, although my new flatmates are very cool and friendly and sociable and all that and I'm sure I'll be happy there in the long run, it's a bit of a step-down in terms of quality, and I've moved in at a time when one of them is in the middle of, shall we say, a bit of a personal issue and suddenly walking into the middle of it is eversoslightly uncomfortable. Plus I've had absolutely bugger all sleep over the past few days due to the fact that the traffic noise at night from my room is worse than I'd expected, to the extent that the Number 89 bus stop might as well be next to my pillow.

And yes, at the same time there is this little voice in the back of my head going "for fuck's sake there is nothing wrong with your life, don't you know there's just been a war?!"... I think I could really do with a few days off and a few silly nights in the pub with some cool people.

Right, that's it. Self-pitying whine over.

i left house in finchley in 2000, and havent had as nice a place since then. i've lived more centrally since then, but nothing as 'home' as dollis rd

Well, the wife and I have now been settled in the new place for a little over two months now, and things got much easier in that capacity. Once we finally got our couch from Crate & Barrell (it took ten farkin' weeks!), the place started to resemble a fully functioning home and less like some sort've expensive storage space. I've managed to acclimate (sp?) myself to my newer surroundings with more speed than I thought I would. Once we'd gotten the lion's share of our stuff out of the old place, it became less of a emotional jolt (still seeing pictures hanging on the wall of the otherwise vacant old place really put a steak-knife in my heart for some reason...as if the place had been abandoned in some life-threatening tumult or something). But, now the place is 99.9% empty.

Speaking of, we finally managed to procure a buyer. This coming Monday is his interview with the co-op board. If all goes well (which it should), he'll be approved and we can schedule a closing date. Coincidentally, my friend Tim from out of town just rang saying he needs a place to stay for next weekend, and asked if he could stay in that space (where we still have a mattress). If we haven't closed by then, I told him "fine," although I can't imagine how weird, sad and spooky it would be to spend a night there in the raw space (where he spent lots of time...the place started off as a drunken crashpad for many of my friends). Once we've closed and I hand over the keys (and pay off my considerable debts), the real weirdness will set in. After that, I'll no longer be able to go over and hang out in the space (making myself feel strange and sad), nor will I have a reason to go hang out chattin' with the staff in the lobby (all good guys).

The `fridge is still splattered with band stickers (not least indelicately monikered ones like NASHVILLE PUSSY, COP SHOOT COP and THE JESUS LIZARD) which I'm pretty unwilling to spend five hours painstakingly peeling off. The `fridge would look worse without'em on it anyway (all sorts of sticker-gook remaining, etc.) so I'm just gonna leave it. Tough tits, toots! You get a sneering Punk Rock fridge with your new home! Drink up!

Big, big, big sigh.

I used to live on a busy avenue, in an apartment overlooking the street from the second floor. I once saw a presidential motorcade drive past my window. I pass by the old place infrequently, and each time I do, I always have to sneak a peek through the window. All I can usually see is the ceiling fan from the street level. I wonder if the kitchen is still painted magenta, and if the current tenants hit their heads on the cabinet doors like I used to. I wonder what they've got in the hallway where I used to keep my office. I try to imagine what I've forgotten about the place. Maybe the smell of the gas stove or the sound of the attic fan upstairs.

I was so happy when I finally moved into the house that I live in now. A house! No neighbors on the other side of the wall! Rooms with room! An actual dining room! I also started imagining what it would look like destroyed by fire. The black smudge on the walls, the water damage on the ceiling, the charred remains of the couch with the springs poking through. I don't know why my imagination always does this to me, but perhaps it has something to do with keeping things in perspective. All of our abodes are temporary, just like this life, and we should just enjoy them while we can and move on after we're done.

Nice columns at the old place, by the way.