House is Not A Home
I’ve lived in the same neighborhood for nearly 28 years, and I love it. It’s quiet and residential, yet just a 20 minute car ride from the hustle and bustle of the city. I can walk to the beach, feel safe picking up some late-night take out, and always find parking. Unfortunately, I also live in a cave.
I will have you know that my bedroom is a death trap. There are no windows, and the heater is always on blast. I could sleep in the comfort of my queen bed for hours. But while it’s super cozy, it’s also depressing as fuck. The sloth in me feeds off the confinement, and the emotionally suicidal would have a field day in here.
There are tips on how to maximize the productivity of your workspace. Paint it a “happy” color, don’t put a TV in it, and most of all – separate your office from your bedroom. Oops! It’s no wonder I never get any shit done. And although I’m writing this from my laptop that’s sitting on top of a tray that’s sitting on top of my stomach as I lay down and type like a lazy fuck – it’s not the ideal writing environment. Case in point, I’m getting a neck cramp and keep taking breaks to sleep in three minute intervals. But I digress …
The past year (2011) showed me just how much the environment around you can affect your mood. After waking up one morning to a bird’s eye view of the city and walking the streets of Financial District, I felt motivated to work. I finished an important project of mine at one of my favorite Cafe’s in San Bruno that serves red velvet lattes. And being in the Adapt Lab always inspires me to be my own boss. Same thing with workout out. I could easily lay a mat out in my living room floor and watch some YouTube videos, but being at the gym around people with the same mindset is always more effective and running the beach gives me more clarity. Plus there’s no bag of Sweet Maui Onion chips on the counter to distract me.
Needless to say, I want to move. I always said that I would never move out of my current place unless I won the lottery or married an NBA player, but I truly believe a change of scenery will contribute immensely to a change of perspective. But mama didn’t raise no fool, and that’s exactly what I’d be if I moved anytime soon. So I suppose I’ll just rearrange the priorities in my mind. Rid my brain of unnecessary clutter, and clean out my mental closet of excess baggage until I’m ready.
Or maybe I’ll just knock a window in this bitch.