Cribs

Fourth time's a charm, because I've decided on a place to live. I've got all sorts of doubts about my new accommodations. I will be living in a prime location just across Colfax from Tattered Cover. The neighborhood and house are darling, except for one thing: it's a total college spot. I've been debating between living further from the city with a nice teacher or at this location, with two guys and a girl who are all recent graduates. With the teacher, I could expect cleanliness, reserved conversation, and a network of other 30-somethings. The roommates I've chose are all 20-something recent graduates, plus their three cats, dog, musical instruments, late-night personal buffets, and friends. They are all artists and the garage is used for their band. We have plans to make a garden in the backyard, right by the ladder that leads onto a roof where they "like to sit and hang out."

My therapist calls me a "meta-analyist" in that I form thoughts about thoughts, which we all know come from feelings, which are usually demonstrated in bodily sensations. So as I'm walking through this house I feel something akin to butterflies in my stomach, a sign that I'm excited. The excitement leads to the thought, "This looks like fun." And then I feel something like bumblebees in my shoulders and chest, a sign that I'm anxious. The anxiety leads to the thought, "Aren't you past this? Isn't this a little immature?" And then, because of the dichotomy between wanting and distrusting, I feel my legs tingle a little and my heart beat...I'm scared. The thought? "It's just like Benjamin Button. You're losing your independence and maturity and going right back in time."

Because moving into a house that begs for a Swiffer and screams Liberal Arts makes me think that I'm going back to live that final year of college the way a typical student would. Thinking about kicking back with friends, letting my living situation waver on the grimy side, sitting on roofs with beers, gardening, and playing with someone else's animals, thinking about all of this makes me smile. I'd like to loosen up a little and I'd really like to live with people who make nice pictures and sounds for a living. And yet, this doesn't support the vision I had for myself. I expected myself to be in some downtown loft with a good job, making plans to move abroad, and making money to match. Instead, I feel dependent on others. I crave the dorm-life connection. What's more, the house is in walking distance of my parents. Rent can be footed by them, too.

Backward, forward, diagonal; I think the secret truth between chronological logic and gravitational pull is that they only exist when one wills them to. I often find myself floating or sinking, growing up or growing down, while those around me tick like a clock on the wall. Am I regressing? Am I settling for safety and fun? Maybe. Did I lose a year of my life, or more, to my own obsessions? No. I don't believe that. I lived that as much as any other event, and I am grateful for the insight and opportunities it allotted me. But it did alter my life time-line. I think that alteration is something to respect, not fight. So I will move into the Animal House. I will be friends with the very cool people who want me to live there. I'm not sure of how that will look and I do have doubts about my own adulthood. This feels like a risk (a basket weave around my intestines) but I want to give it a try. If time and gravitation don't affect me like everyone else, maybe they fall in my favor?