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Sunday November 30, 2003, 23:55

It's hard to believe that it's the end of the month and I've not written anything. This space, this journal, this site used to be my life. I would share my life here and others would come and share it with me. Recently (say, in the past couple of months), I've been unable to muster up the energy to write, save for some writings on writing, such as the current piece. Photography is my current outlet, creatively at least, and while I continue staunchly in the realm of the amateur, I am pleased whenever anyone expresses interest in my work.

Truth be told, I feel like I've forgotten how to write. Or how to keep thoughts in my head. The latter seems more of a problem, for as I sit here, fingers on keys and eyes staring at a (reasonably) blank page, the words themselves seem like old friends. The speed with which they are appearing leads to believe that they're either just warming up or just unused to my presence, but they're appearing, a couple at a time. The trickier of the lot is the problem with my brain, with keeping things straight inside. Earlier today I thought about writing, thought about how I was not going to let the month pass me by without writing at least something, and I had an epiphany. Just short of crying "Eureka!" I found myself with a topic that would soon fill with text that empty page before me.

I promptly forgot whatever it was that I was going to write and we are once again forced to suffer through this meta-writing.

Now hush, and listen to this page crumpling up and dropping to the floor.

Once again, listen to a light breeze blowing in through the window, picking us up, and depositing us on the floor.

Time to start over again. Three… two… one…

I am having a hard time getting comfortable in my own home, and it's not making me happy.

I spend the better part of my life these days sitting in the same room in the same chair looking at the same computer screen. I would say that there are a fair number of us who could say something similar, but the difference is that my situation places me a good several yards from where I wake up in the morning and where I go to sleep at night. My desk is in the corner of the living room and I sit facing a wall with my back to a large open space. To my left is a knock-off Eames chair and a sofa, with a large window and a view to the east. To my right is the dining table and the front door. Behind me is a cluttered bookshelf. And all around me is space.

I've been finding myself craving a smaller more comfortable nook in which to spend my days. Unfortunately, the apartment doesn't offer anything like that built-in (a study perhaps) and so I am left wondering how best to convert a relatively large space, painted completely white, into something warm and cozy.

Color is probably first, and unfortunately, I have something of an aversion to color. As a lighting designer, my favorite thing to do would be to light an entire theatrical production with no gels in my lights. I would rely on the color temperature of the bare light to give me the depth I needed. Now, with an apartment-sized canvas at my disposal, I find myself digging into my past and finding nothing on which to base any pigment judgments. Ironically enough, it is the same theatrical experience that is leaving me at a loss as to how this apartment should be lit. Practically speaking, I know what I want, but I do not know how to implement it in a living space, rather than a theatrical space. And I don't know how to implement it in such a way that it will last for than a two week run.

Even after I conquer my fear I'll be far from out of the woods. The ceiling in here is high enough that it feels "far away" to me, compared to some of the other places that I've lived in my life. It really is about doing the opposite of what most city dwellers are trying to do. While everyone else is trying to make a small space look vast, I am contemplating ways of converting a reasonably large space into something more intimate.

And again in this department I have come up remarkably flat.

More to come if I decide what to do with the apartment. For now, however, it is the end of a month, nearly the end of the year, and certainly the end of these ruminations.

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