Moving

So after a full month and two weeks of commuting two hours a day, I've finally moved in and started to settle into a little, blue, 19th century home across the street from Fort Collins' largest park. It's a three-bed, one bath house with a huge lawn and its in the older part of town, which means it's far from everything except large oak trees and lots of grass. I must admit, I like it.

I'm currently living with one of the paper's newest photographers, and the two of us sleep in the upstairs rooms, which have a "converted attic" feel. The ceilings are low and slanted, the doors are small and the hardwood floors have that older look and feel to them. There's even a loose floorboard near my closet!

Having moved in on Thursday, I realized that I really don't have a lot of stuff, and I am not at all planning on getting tons more of it. After seeing how much effort my roommate has put into making the rest of the house, including her room, look so awesome and cozy, I have settled for my bed, a blue and brown carpet and two plastic drawers I bought at Target. The weird thing is, I have no desire to really go all out and make my room look kickass. My mom tried convincing me to get a real dresser and a bedside table, but I refused. It's not necessary, I kept repeating.

After realizing I was making my roomie do all the decorating work, I got to thinking about how I don't care about making my home look and feel homey because I haven't been in one steady place for longer than 9 months in the past five years. After living like a crab, carrying everything on my back, I no longer have the ganas to try and get furniture that I'll have to move around, or to collect stuff that I will ultimately have to get rid of. It happened in Evanston, it happened in Madrid, and I can't shake off the feeling that it will happen here.

Even though I foresee myself sticking around Fort Collins for a while (at least two years, I'm telling myself, in spite of my developed city-ADD), I can't seem to see how it's worthwhile to put so much effort into a place that I am not entire sold on. Especially since I know that I'll be down at my parents' house on the weekends.

I can't figure out if I should try to convince myself to try and get settled here and really put some effort into my room and home, or if I should just maintain my blasse attitude. Time will tell...

When home isn't home anymore

As I was driving down Colfax Ave. on a recent weekday afternoon, I was struck by the drastic changes that have undergone the formerly run-down, prostitute-ridden Avenue. New ethnic restaurants were up and running, the street was cleaned of litter, drug addicts, prostitutes and many homeless folks. Several prominent music stores and venues were also in full operation.

Driving down Old Pearl street, I noticed tons of repaved streets, new signs and even a new stretch of highway. It seems like everywhere I look nowadays, I see something new or different than what was living in my mind.

And suddenly, it hit me: I haven't lived in Denver for five years, so really, how can I expect for it to be exactly the same? The suburbs to the north are more developed, there are tons of new immigrants from all over Asia, and the "cool" hangouts from my high school days are as hip and popular as MySpace. It shouldn't shock me that everything is different, but I can't seem to shake off this feeling that home isn't really home anymore. The things that I used to miss about Denver are completely different now, and it's almost like I've moved to a new city that I'm discovering for the first time.