Trading Basements
"After all is said and done there is a whole lot more said than done," states my computer desktop as a constant reminder of the many abandoned projects which lay lurching in the wake of my existence. However, this was not to be one of those projects...
Now $600 after my last post, I enter the final stage of my personal dramatic manly custom chop-shop soap opera known as trading basements. Taking the over-creative budget rennos of all those home network shows, added with the disfunctional work force of American chopper and the hair of that apprentice guy and you get a solid picture what I've been up to.
The epic transformation of my souless rental basement began when I moved in to the testosterhome last September. Before Saturdays with cream corn, becoming a wanna-be track star and posting my every thought on a global digital billboard, I had a dream of building a sound proof room in the basement.
Ignorant, full of motivation and energy I devoted my life to this task. For weeks, post-work relaxation comprised of removing and sorting scrap wood and plumbing parts which littered the unfinished basement. When I wasn't proving my manhood, I was gathering cheap building supplies like an anxious squirrel preparing for another long winter. My parents and friends thought I was nuts. They are right but, I feel a certain joy knowing I insulated 500sqft of basement walls and ceilings with free packing foam from work.
So why all this work? One must only glimpse into my bedroom to appreciate my desire for a place to set up my studio. On a good night I will share my bed with some speakers, a preamp, my computer keyboard and some random cables. There was however a short period where I was sleeping with a 88-key synth and a guitar. It is hard to keep a good rep with rumours of stuff like that going around.
So given a week or two away from 'normal' school, I signed up at the school of hardknocks for gifted stubborn males. Over the past month, I have completed courses including framing slanted wall on slanted floors, drywalling with dummies, the 1-2-3's of how not spakle, half-can painting and custom stained T-bar ceiling installation. As time bore on expectations where lowered and resounding truths of 'tight budget' and 'learning experience' echoed in the walls. However, as I sat in the nearly completed room to write a song this week I came to a simple realization.
It is perfect.
Now that the dust has settled on my camping gear, I face a small hollow character room and the haunting image of my 8'x 2'6" mixing desk that is a 1/2" too wide to fit through to opening of my $20 solid core door.* My dad, who delivered my desk, just smiled.
He knew it is nothing a strong willed male with a skill saw can't fix.
*yes, that is with the door removed and the moldings taken off.
Now $600 after my last post, I enter the final stage of my personal dramatic manly custom chop-shop soap opera known as trading basements. Taking the over-creative budget rennos of all those home network shows, added with the disfunctional work force of American chopper and the hair of that apprentice guy and you get a solid picture what I've been up to.
The epic transformation of my souless rental basement began when I moved in to the testosterhome last September. Before Saturdays with cream corn, becoming a wanna-be track star and posting my every thought on a global digital billboard, I had a dream of building a sound proof room in the basement.
Ignorant, full of motivation and energy I devoted my life to this task. For weeks, post-work relaxation comprised of removing and sorting scrap wood and plumbing parts which littered the unfinished basement. When I wasn't proving my manhood, I was gathering cheap building supplies like an anxious squirrel preparing for another long winter. My parents and friends thought I was nuts. They are right but, I feel a certain joy knowing I insulated 500sqft of basement walls and ceilings with free packing foam from work.
So why all this work? One must only glimpse into my bedroom to appreciate my desire for a place to set up my studio. On a good night I will share my bed with some speakers, a preamp, my computer keyboard and some random cables. There was however a short period where I was sleeping with a 88-key synth and a guitar. It is hard to keep a good rep with rumours of stuff like that going around.
So given a week or two away from 'normal' school, I signed up at the school of hardknocks for gifted stubborn males. Over the past month, I have completed courses including framing slanted wall on slanted floors, drywalling with dummies, the 1-2-3's of how not spakle, half-can painting and custom stained T-bar ceiling installation. As time bore on expectations where lowered and resounding truths of 'tight budget' and 'learning experience' echoed in the walls. However, as I sat in the nearly completed room to write a song this week I came to a simple realization.
It is perfect.
Now that the dust has settled on my camping gear, I face a small hollow character room and the haunting image of my 8'x 2'6" mixing desk that is a 1/2" too wide to fit through to opening of my $20 solid core door.* My dad, who delivered my desk, just smiled.
He knew it is nothing a strong willed male with a skill saw can't fix.
*yes, that is with the door removed and the moldings taken off.
posted by neseirf ekim at 3:26 PM
2 comments
