somehow, amidst the plague of low vacancy and obscene rents i found a place to call my very own. a veritable cornucopia of bachelor-pad-ness that is now the Cult of SEAN headquarters.

it was time. i had been sharing space and not feeling right about it. the City was perfect -- i was quite sure that wasn't the problem. my roommates had been friendly companions. in fact, the last set was really quite great. but i wanted to walk around naked, dancing around wildly to loud music, and know that every mess was mine alone. the new place has given me all of that and so much more.

it's quite a different place than i'm use to. it's five stories up with an incredible 180-degree view of the City. the building was built back in 1917 and has all the character (and quirky plumbing) that comes with that much age. each floor seems packed with young, interesting, cool, and extremely nice people. everyone who's visited so far agrees. i'm not use to bumping into that many like-minded souls on the elevator or while picking up my mail.

my apartment has hardwood floors, nice tile, a bathtub big enough to fit me, and just enough closet space for all my stuff. to that i'm slowly adding me: a set of silverware that took me forever to pick out, paintings and pictures to cover the walls, furniture where i want it (or maybe it's better over here), jackets hung behind the closet door, my music playing into the kitchen while i cook, and my smell seeping into the floorboards. (i said "smell" not "stink")

and the funny thing about it all is i'm having to readjust the way i think. sitting on the couch yesterday in my underpants ... ok, ok, i was naked ... i heard a door close and tensed up, ready to spring into clothes, until i realized that no one was coming home. i'm also finding that i have a lot of extra time to do whatever i want and that all of the rules i had about homelife can pretty much be thrown out the window. if i want to burn a candle dead-center in the middle of the living room floor then i go to the cupboard, grab a candle and matches, and do exactly that. if i want to turn on the TV and the radio, and ignore both, it's my perogative. and if i want to fill my cupboards with canned soup and Scooby Snacks, well, you get the picture.

a wise coworker said to me when i told her i was finally moving into my own place that she thought living with roommates was a "mental institution". i might not agree to that extreme and certainly wouldn't forget the good times i had with my roommates, but living on my own has so far felt like a puzzle piece fitting neatly into place. it feels both luxuriously peaceful and something that i deserved all along.

it's fun. it's freedom. it's home. and it's alllll mine.