today i tore apart my apartment. it started with taking down some old blinds to make way for an imminent new curtain purchase. before i knew it, i had moved the bed, pulled everything off the walls, and am now sitting in a chair smack dab in the middle of the room with all my stuff piled on the floor around me.

the weird thing is that i loved my apartment. adored even. i felt so comfortable in it and felt like it reflected me, even in all the jumble and mismatch.

maybe the weirder thing is, though, how much i like this feeling, starting fresh, pulling things apart and sitting with them awhile before i start piecing them back together again. there's this sudden weird longing feeling right between my stomach and my chest, and i can only guess that it's the desire to change.

i realize that i'm a pretty inconstant person trying to figure out how to settle down and have a constant life. the longest i've lived any place in the last 7 years was 1 yr, and the average was about 8 months. sometimes these moves were just new apartments, but more often they were between provinces, countries, or continents. they were about rebuilding.

8 months into this apartment, 11 months into my career, and 20 months into Ottawa, maybe it's no wonder that i'm longing for change, for some kind of reset button that makes everything new and fresh again. i guess i'll start with my apartment. from the disaster this is right now, i will try to resist the urge to get a haircut. for real.