Window-Sitting :: Curtains, Commitment, & Purgatory
Another gorgeous day in Dogpatch. I'm sitting in my window soaking up the sunbeams and sipping coffee. I think it would be an ideal morning if not for the fact the plumber is here for the second time. Nevermind that, it's still beautiful. My last day of freedom - I have to make the most of it. Make it last. Make it right today.
I love sitting in my window. It's high in my top ten favorite things to do. It makes writing out bills a little more pleasant than it should be. In fact, I love my windows so much there was a time when I had no curtains, no blinds, no nothing. I still have a hard time with having the blinds down. It makes me feel claustrophobic being cut off from the view.
When I first moved into this building in ninety-nine, I didn't have curtains. The house up on Wisconsin came with blinds. I had left the curtains as a peace offering at the house on San Marino. We had a huge picture window there. I used to love to sit in my recliner, drink coffee, and read the newspaper while peeping though my portal into the outside world. I brought that habit here sans curtains.
For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to buy curtains. Perhaps, it would have meant that I was committing to some sort of permanency in this residence, in this life, or to any one thing. Committment had recently become a huge issue for me. I convinced myself that I just had not found the perfect curtains. What were the perfect curtains anyhow? And were they the right ones for me?
There were many strange questions, strange answers, and equally strange avoidance tactics then. I managed to avoid the subject of curtains until I found myself in Paris working on Apple Expo. While props shopping for the keynote, I found curtains. Tab-Topped Curtains. Sort of off-white, unobtrusive, ordinary curtains at Ikea in France. I bought three and brought them home in my suitcase.
The curtains weren't especially interesting or dramatic. Essentially, they were something I could have purchased in the States at any Bed, Bath, & Beyond type store. I still didn't put them up. Now, it was a question of the curtain rod. Which I maintained had to be a specific and perfect curtain rod. I hadn't been able to find one that pleased me. Yet another way to uncommit. The packages sat in a corner. Everytime I looked at them I was reminded of the Paris Keynote, the acute awfulness blending with the distinct pleasure of finality. I would never take back the hasty words spoken or the curtains sitting unopened on the floor.
I had made many choices. Unsure as I was about them in ninety-nine, I could only try to look forward. Here I was, sitting cross-legged in the center of my rug fooling myself that I actually was making concrete choices. One only had to look at the windows to see I was stuck in my own personal purgatory. Who knows what I was trying to prove to myself. That I was such a bad-ass now that I didn't have to commit to anything, anyone, or anytime? That I didn't have a soul, a soft spot, or a heart to break. Trying to be so hard when I was really the most fragile I had ever been. Meanwhile protecting myself and keeping everyone else out refusing to share one iota of who I am. There weren't curtains there because I had no windows. Only walls. Oppressive walls. Stone walls.
Pushed by my roommate or the opening of Ikea in Emeryville - Either one will do - I found the curtain rods. Brought those home also to sit in their boxes next to the curtains. Still, I could not bring myself to hang them. Sitting crosslegged on my rug, I didn't know what I was doing anymore. I felt as though I'd lost my place in life. I'd slipped out of my world into the Land of the Lost. Trying to make a new life and forget the older one which I could only do through a strong bout of denial. Denial wasn't working the same magic anymore. My strength was drained and the curtains languished at my feet.
I left the house, the curtains, and the rod in limbo at the first light of day. New day, new dawn, new denial. I got home later to see the curtain-hanging elves had been there. The rod was in place and the curtains were now proper window dressing. All thanks to my roommate. A silent helping hand. Since then, I've made the commitment to even more - a valance and blinds. I do still have problems with commitment. I'm just moving on from the minor things. I have stopped sitting crosslegged in the center of my rug. The window is a more forgiving place. I was fooling myself but noone else.
