So let’s break this down. What is this question actually asking? How much depth do we get into? Do we look at the micro or the macro? I suppose that’s the mark of a good question though, huh? That you can read many interpretations into it and approach it with whatever angle you want.
If we start with the largest assumptions here, we could find four places I’ve lived, one of which I don’t remember since I was a baby at the time, and those would be (in order of length of time residing) the United States, Lithuania, Israel, and Hungary. Of course, this can be further broken down into more particular chunks, like states, in which case the US gets four while Israel and Lithuania get two and Hungary gets one. Could go with cities next, and, depending on how you count, be it governmental designations or metropolitan areas, the US gets even more subdivided.
Then, if you really wanted to get into the nitty-gritty, you get into actual domiciles, and it gets way more complicated. If we start with from the time I was 18 and legally an adult, I’ve probably lived in two dozen places? Let’s count*:
- With the folks on Fenway, Vegas
- Salt Lake City, Utah
- The Pointes, Vegas
- On Windsor in Miracle Mile, LA
- On Millwood (first the back of the house), Venice
- On Millwood (then the front), Venice
- Mariners Village, Marina del Rey
- Altair, Venice
- Windward, Venice
- Horizon, Venice
- West Hollywood
- 4th Street, Santa Monica
- 5th Street, Santa Monica
- Faye’s house, Vegas
- With the folks on Glen Aulin, Vegas
- Katie Dr, Vegas
- Pine Breeze, Vegas
- With the folks on Glen Aulin, Vegas
- Sunset Rd. Vegas
- Sugar Ut, Mezotur, Hungary
- Ukmerges gatve, Vilnius, Lithuania
- Vilniaus gatve, Kaunas, Lithuania
- Ukmerges gatve, Kaunas, Lithuania
- Saules gatve, Kaunas, Lithuania
So yeah, two dozen. Unless I missed one or two, but I don’t think so. That’s a lot, huh? So those are all the places I’ve lived. I could go back in and put time spent there but I don’t think that’s necessary. I could certainly mention some easy statistics, like living here in Lithuania has resulted in the longest stay in one place in my adult life – on Vilniaus Gatve. Was there for just about five years and it was great, right in the middle of old town and all the action, but where I live now is probably one of the larger places I’ve lived as an adult.
But ultimately, when we get to the meat of this question, we can ask what did all of these places have in common? Well, for the most part, they weren’t new places. Most of them had a bit of character to them from the outside. But on the inside, they all reflected my personality.
Someone once said of a place I lived that there was always something interesting to look at. Wherever the eye landed, there was a story. I’m still that way, even today. While Rasa may be a bit of a neat freak, she lets me have the office and bookshelves to display my external bits of me. Even if they drive her nuts as dust collectors, she knows they are a part of my personality.
I also need art on my walls. Even at the old town apartment, where I wasn’t really allowed to put up anything, if there was already a nail hammered in somewhere, I made sure a piece of art was hanging. I also went and got a 6’ sheet of metal and tacked it up since I didn’t have a fridge for displaying travel magnets or postcards or whatever else I wanted to show off.
And once I reached adulthood, I also started framing my art and pictures, even with cheap grocery store frames, because that made more sense to me. I just went and had a piece of art Rasa was gifted last year by my friend Simas re-framed to preserve it. A lot of my art is still in storage in Vegas, and one day it will come over to wherever we settle.
I’ve been in homes, nice homes, lived in by quasi-famous people, where it was so generic as to look like the display model, or places where everything was curated to the point of sterility. But not me. I guess if I were to have to describe the places I lived, I would say they turn into extensions of myself, messy and chaotic and interesting, where everything tells its own story.
*and we’re not counting the one night apartment, detailed here.
Getting the Hang of Thursdays 