Feeling More at Home

I have lived in the same one-bedroom for over a decade now and spent many of those years coming in to sleep and going back out for another day of work. This routine was often followed by an evening class, a late-night concert, a hangout, or getting sidetracked by errands while on my long commute home. I never made enough time to take care of my space, so it was nonstop dusty and I was always disgusted by the clutter and piles of actual trash. It was time for me to accept that if I did not clear it out now, someone will have to do it when I die. So why should I live like this? How can I upgrade my home so that it feels like a retreat?

As I apply finishing touches here and there after completing the KonMari Method earlier in the spring, I am grateful to have a place to myself where I can read, write, study, exercise, cook, make plans, and rest. There is still so much more I can do, and I have been saving examples of those ideas.

Featuring art and other works, especially by friends

Around 2010, a few years before I moved out for the first time, I visited a friend’s apartment that he shared with two roommates in West Rogers Park. They were all artists and writers, working on their own projects, so when I walked into the first floor of their spacious two-flat, with the natural light and colorful prints hanging on the white walls, it felt like entering an artist’s residency. As my friend gave me a tour, he also shared the story behind each piece and the friend that illustrated it. Some were gifted, some were exchanged, and some were commissioned. I was touched by how personal this made his home.

Some of my favorite pieces that I have out include a chainmaille vest made by Sky Cubacub for my 30th birthday, a red cedar bud vase by Erica Moan (emowood), a round koi pond mosaic by Carol Lancour (Marin Mosaics), a rose drawn with colored pencil by my oldest cousin, a watercolor of my name by a woman in Chinatown during a sidewalk fundraiser who convinced me to add a “pretty butterfly” for $2 extra, an “Encouraging Growth” illustration by Aidan Koch, and three mandala prints by Tao Lin. There is a framed poem by beyza ozer, written for an anonymous Virgo (me), gifted by my ex, that I hang on a sort of hidden wall for when I need a reminder to soften.

Inviting visitors from out of town + sharing my home

In the beginning—a.k.a. while still in my twenties—I thought I would host couchsurfers all the time. I loved meeting cool, international travelers, but I gave up on the intention after learning about all the hookups taking place and feeling alienated by it. I started worrying about worst case scenarios.

But in 2015, on a West Coast –> Pacific Northwest zine tour with Jim, Dave, and Blair, the editor of Seattle’s alt weekly newspaper welcomed the four of us to stay in his spacious apartment while he booked himself a room elsewhere for the night. That was so sweet and reminded me of the kind of host I want to be. Trusting others with the KEY TO MY HOME. I am still in the process of feeling ready to do this, but I will prepare by keeping extra pillows, blankets, towels, and toiletries.

I remember the gorgeous amount of sunlight in this editor’s apartment. I loved how he filled out a lot of the negative space with posters. There were many details that required a pause, like when you stop to read the exhibition card in a museum. His home inspired me to line my bedroom wall with ten images of women who impact me in some way. I want to face them first thing in the morning when I open my eyes in bed. You could call them “heroines.”

Sharing a meal, a drink, and a conversation together

Winter Solstice 2017 was magical. Audrey invited me to their home for a queer, communal dinner, lit by candles. There were probably at least 15 people there, but I have no idea; it felt like a lot more. All the food came from what they grew in a garden. I felt so much gratitude.

I also felt some shame and regret that I could never bring together this kind of gathering because I was too held back by social self-consciousness and my lack of skill in cooking.

But this is an example of what I could, would like to, do soon. Sometimes it seems like all it is, it is sending out a text to a group of friends with a time, place, and other helpful information. Then having a good time. Why do I make it so complicated that I avoid trying altogether? When will I be brave enough to organize a birthday where I spend time with my friends without any negative self-talk?

Reflecting places I have been + my sense of taste

Then in 2018, I went over to the home of a Serbian lecturer in Hyde Park to help her work on a website project. You could tell as soon as you walked in that it belonged to an academic, someone who has traveled to places, and someone with fine taste. Even the disordered pile of newspapers on her dining table looked artfully arranged. Every item looked like it had been chosen with intention. They seemed to match and roll up to a look of casual quality and elegance. That evening, I had an upset stomach from food truck food, and she poured me a mini glass of cognac as medicine. I listened to the glass clink. It was a bottle you can only find in Paris, she said, so I took a photo for reference, in case I could ever make it there.

Becoming who I am through my behaviors in the privacy of my home

It is 2024 and I am rethinking my list of identities. It took me a while to no longer “aspire” to be anything. I am a reader when I read, I am a writer when I write, I am an athlete when I train or play a sport. I am doing the same thing that professionals do, just at a lower level.

I named my home after a Chinese idiom that I learned about this year, “mirror flower, water moon” (镜花水月, jìng huā shuǐ yuè). It’s a reference to things that are beautiful yet unattainable. Something you can see but not touch. I would like to think it describes the work of perfecting while never achieving perfection, or, what I am practicing here every day.