A good workspace

I spent somewhere between 2 and 3 hours today rearranging my bedroom. This counted as my “workout” for the day, and I am similarly pleased with the results.

Okay, that’s an understatement. I literally feel like I’m in an entirely new house just from shifting things around. I can look out the windows now instead of having my back to the outside world while I’m on the computer (which is most of the time); the light on the wall is now slightly behind me and off to the side as opposed to being almost directly shining in my face; because my desk and my bed take up either side of the room I end up sitting basically in the exact centre of the room instead of being huddled in a corner … it just feels good.

As a bonus result of this alchemical renovation, I also felt like I was in an entirely different world, one where I was free to have ideas with my time instead of siphoning it off to feed my vampiric obligation to study (which I did a lot of today, and it was great and very non-vampiric). It was like something from my life ten years ago, one of the good parts, where I’d be carried along by some inspiring idea and end up making moves to share it with the world. Today became a fantastic Writing Day.

The fact that I instead spend my day watching YouTube and doing uni readings (yay productivity) is irrelevant. The fact that I spoiled my chance to drift off to sleep by getting up and writing this post – water under the bridge. All day I had this overwhelming craving for story, for engagement, just by being in my room. Because it’s more open now when I’m in it, because I have light and air coming at me from three directions (assuming I leave the door open for airflow). Because now I’m in the middle of the room and can roam around freely and quickly. Because the entire room has basically become a combination desk and chair, given how things are laid out. Because I’m not locked in to any one specific area in the room when I want to do something in it. It felt like the day would go on forever; for the first time in years I genuinely felt like staying up and working on my stuff, be it Tallulah or something else, or drawing, or reading – I had a really strong urge to continue the Sweep series for some reason – or nothing. I wanted to sit on the floor and look up and out of both of my windows as much as I wanted to progress some story of mine. I felt like the “shackling” feeling of my room being designated as an area for procrastination, work or sleep just sort of peel off, to be replaced with a boundless, timeless motivation to use the world, and be used by it in return. In a good way. The word “use” has bad connotations. I feel like this is finally my space, that not only is it “working for me” now, in a way that my room back at the old house never did, but that we are working for each other.

That realisation that I had about not being a writer – if this were a movie and I were looking for a sign to tell me that I was on the right track, today would have been the sign. It wasn’t just that I felt freed from stifling obligations; I felt freed from my own restrictive regimenting of my time and how it should be spent, which ambitions I was allowed to have given the time allotted to me and what the most pragmatic life choices I could make seemed to be. It’s like by moving things around in my room I accidentally brushed open a latch, and now a flood of energy and potential has washed through me, knocking down my self-erected barriers and opening me up to my own possibilities, the exact possibilities I’ve been struggling to re-discover ever since my “I’m not a writer anymore” epiphany at the start of the year.

I never realised housekeeping could be so profound.

So, much as I was relishing how tired I was feeling before I made myself write this post because in the end I couldn’t get to sleep – and wanted to test if this feeling was still here – I think I might actually do a little bit of work instead. Just start up some momentum. Nothing huge. I do still want to sleep.

But this finally feels like a place where not only do I want to work, but where work will happen if I use this space in the ways that I feel moved to use it. Like if I follow my intuition, things will work out the way I want them to. And I think that’s progress worth documenting. I haven’t felt this way in … shit, almost 15 years. I’m going to be 28 in a couple of weeks.

Oh god. I’m going to be 28 in a couple of weeks. Definitely not getting to sleep now …

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