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Nov. 6th, 2002 11:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
enteleinSo much of what centers me is light, you know?
People love my office at work, lit with lava lamp (in underwater green and blue), and the pumpkin string lights mellowly oranging up the place. When I play music, the total effect is damn near magical. People slow as they walk by my office, they smile, they feel for a moment that the world is not made of cubicles covered in indoor-outdoor carpeting, that lights are not the green buzzing spongers of fluorescent energy we've come to know and expect.
At home, that string of blue lights I've written about before centers me and grounds me: it is a beacon through the window shade - I can see its soft light as I walk down a dark block after getting off the bus. It makes me feel fortunate, in a really cheesy American sorta display-yer-wares sort of way. I have a place to hang the lights, and they're out of season, and they are blue. Blue blue blue, and they make me sad, and they make me smile, and they frame the windows that face west. I will miss all these glorious windows when I leave. I will miss having those blue lights over those particular windows.
Candle light (and candle scent), the lamp that Scott re-wired and originates from a funeral home from well before I was even conceived, a cheery red cheap lampshade from IKEA taking that light and harnessing it into crisp submission. Pools of lights gather here, and from the bulbs that stick out from old metal fittings at each intersection of wooden beam in the dining room ceiling.
It seems this place is blessed with light, long after the sun has gone down. Around the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, multi-colored string lights. In the office, small halogen clip lamp pointed up into the corner of the room, or down in incandescent efficiency on the mess that is my desk. The paper star lamp in my office window, colorful and frivolous, hardly providing illumination at all.
There's another re-wired lamp that is currently standing in what was Scott's office (and has since been transformed into a dressing room. Metallic ornamentation - harsh and impressive, aged and seasoned. Three bulbs, plus a top piece with which you fasten on a larger lampshade. This lampshade hasn't been found yet. This is a goal for the new apartment.
So many spilling pools of radiance, filling my nights and providing mental space, mood, tone, atmosphere. Yeah, this is a piece of the puzzle, just working my house into a home, this portable home, this home with many lights.
People love my office at work, lit with lava lamp (in underwater green and blue), and the pumpkin string lights mellowly oranging up the place. When I play music, the total effect is damn near magical. People slow as they walk by my office, they smile, they feel for a moment that the world is not made of cubicles covered in indoor-outdoor carpeting, that lights are not the green buzzing spongers of fluorescent energy we've come to know and expect.
At home, that string of blue lights I've written about before centers me and grounds me: it is a beacon through the window shade - I can see its soft light as I walk down a dark block after getting off the bus. It makes me feel fortunate, in a really cheesy American sorta display-yer-wares sort of way. I have a place to hang the lights, and they're out of season, and they are blue. Blue blue blue, and they make me sad, and they make me smile, and they frame the windows that face west. I will miss all these glorious windows when I leave. I will miss having those blue lights over those particular windows.
Candle light (and candle scent), the lamp that Scott re-wired and originates from a funeral home from well before I was even conceived, a cheery red cheap lampshade from IKEA taking that light and harnessing it into crisp submission. Pools of lights gather here, and from the bulbs that stick out from old metal fittings at each intersection of wooden beam in the dining room ceiling.
It seems this place is blessed with light, long after the sun has gone down. Around the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, multi-colored string lights. In the office, small halogen clip lamp pointed up into the corner of the room, or down in incandescent efficiency on the mess that is my desk. The paper star lamp in my office window, colorful and frivolous, hardly providing illumination at all.
There's another re-wired lamp that is currently standing in what was Scott's office (and has since been transformed into a dressing room. Metallic ornamentation - harsh and impressive, aged and seasoned. Three bulbs, plus a top piece with which you fasten on a larger lampshade. This lampshade hasn't been found yet. This is a goal for the new apartment.
So many spilling pools of radiance, filling my nights and providing mental space, mood, tone, atmosphere. Yeah, this is a piece of the puzzle, just working my house into a home, this portable home, this home with many lights.
