From Memory: My family’s lake house was originally a once-a-weekend novelty. As a kid, experiencing our original routine permanently installed in my mind a sense of specialness about the place, thanks to the process of waiting all grueling week long to visit. While I would occasionally go outside to participate in more traditional lake-related activities, this view is easily my most memorable: I’d hook up my Nintendo 64 (which I wasn’t allowed to keep in the “real” house) to the TV in the front room and scour dungeons in Ocarina of Time with my best friend practically every Friday evening, crouched sideways in aging, erratically-placed armchairs; there are few rooms you remember better than the one in which you experienced your first Water Temple.
From Life: I’ve only lived in Kansas City for about a year now. For most people, that’s probably plenty of time to have cultivated a more interesting “favorite place” than the inside of one’s own apartment, but I’ll confess to you now: I don’t get out much. My current living situation, which I entered two or three weeks ago, is the one that so far most closely resembles my ideal. At home in MS, I’m comfortable, but sometimes a bit suffocated, and the school dorms are… well, dorms. Here, I seem to have finally struck an acceptable balance of dependency and freedom; to me, moving here marks the start of my transition away from who I am now and into the person I am trying my hardest to be. This view of the living room is the one I experience most often.
