Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Moving Day!

My new apartment is kind of a mess right now while I try to unpack and arrange my furniture. I'm currently sleeping on an air mattress. I do not yet have internet or cable. I'm writing this blog post on my laptop in the public library, which is conveniently located only about two blocks away.

It’s a cute one bedroom with hardwood floors, which I love (even if they are crooked and none of my furniture lays flat). My refrigerator is massive – I'm used to sharing one this large with at least a half-dozen other people. The apartment building used to be the first women’s college in Pennsylvania to allow women to earn BA and BS degrees.

Although this is my first apartment, it’s not the first time I’ve moved. I’ve moved in and out of plenty of dorm rooms for school and camps and jobs. This is the first place that I’ve been able to furnish myself. It’s the first place I’ve lived where everything in the apartment is mine and I don’t have to share a bathroom with any rowdy, hairy boys.

I realize that the topic of my apartment is not at all writing related. But because of moving in and out of dorm rooms so frequently over the past seven or eight years (or longer if you count swim camps when I was a kid) I wrote a poem about moving in to a new room. I actually wrote this a few years ago, as a junior in college while I was doing my year abroad in Norwich, England. I wrote this poem for my poetry class. (I don't make claims on it being good or bad, but I did get an A in the class :-)).

Many Rooms I Have Known

Four bare white walls
Dappled with chipped paint
One bed with torn mattress
And stained mattress pad
One dresser with
Five drawers
Which smell of dirty laundry
One graphittied desk
With proclamations of love forever
One desk chair with
Four legs
One shorter than the rest

I tack my Bob Dylan and Ani DiFranco
Posters over the chipped paint
Cover the mattress with
Soft hot pink flannel sheets
Fill the dresser drawers with
My khakis and underwear
Which smell of Downy
Border the perimeter of the desk
With framed pictures of friends
My parents and brother
My puppy Cody
And rock myself to sleep
In the old desk chair


Anonymous said...

Good poem, Anne. I liked it. Worth the A.... definately.

I have moved quite a bit in my lifetime too..... it can be a lot of work..... but when it is your own place every move of furniture or dab on the walls is WAY more exciting!

Congrats on the new place.


Anne Greenawalt said...

Thanks Mark!

It is definitely sooo much more exciting that it's my own place.

The hardest part of my move were the 13 boxes of books I took up three flights of stairs. That was exhausting! Haha. But I couldn't move without my books!