Ninety percent of the time I look around my room and think, “Wow, I have such a long way to go before I could ever decorate a whole house.”
My bookshelves are well-organized by don’t look put together at all, the pictures on my walls are always just a little crooked. My curtains don’t match anything, and actually nothing really matches anything. Let’s call my style “eclectic” and just be nice to it. For the most part, I have no complaints about my decorating style. I try to surround myself with physical items that make me feel good about myself and the world. I like having things to remind me of my friends and family. I have my horse show ribbons hung up, complete with a construction paper blue ribbon from Kelley after a particularly frustrating weekend. I have my huge Buddha frog from Pier One sitting on my bookshelf next to a picture of some friends and a whole cork board of newspaper articles, drawings, pictures, and even a pretty funky pair of heart-shaped sunglasses.
My point is I love my room.
My second point is I have no idea what my future apartments or houses will look like. In a lot of ways, living here is like living at home in high school. I am sometimes consulted about what to do for new curtains in the living room, but basically my space is confined to my room. There are many times during the past six months when I wished this wasn’t so. I wished I got to help arrange the furniture in the dining room. I wish I got to designate cupboards more to my liking.
Not having this freedom makes me anxious to live on my own, and it makes it extra special when there is something downstairs thats “me.” For example, our DVDs have been sitting haphazardly around the TV. The other day, Kelley mentioned there was a shelf in the basement I could use for my room if I needed it. After a short discussion, we decided it might be put to better use in the living room.
Tonight Kelley and Evan went to Omaha, and as I sat watching The Bachelor, I realized Kelley and I had never dug the shelf out of its damp corner. So I ventured downstairs, brought it up, cleaned it off, placed it, moved the DVDs, and even added a decorative plate with a candle and a few jars from my high school pottery class.
Over the course of the evening, I cleaned up the living room, plugged in a couple lamps that had been out of use, and even vacuumed the big rugs. By the end of the TV show, I looked around the space and realized it said “me.” The lighting was softer, the candle emitted a lovely scent, and the white shelf was organized in a lived-in way.
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how little of me is in the downstairs of the house. My personal version of “eclectic” has been overshadowed by the decorating of Kelley, Evan and the million past tenants of this house. The combination has now left little room for interpretation and/or personal touches. No one would ever look around our living room and say, “cool ___. Where did you find that?” It’s not that I want an amazing home, but I want a home. And right now, the only place I really feel at home is in my little bedroom. And unfortunately, that isn’t very conducive to wanting to keep living here in the extended future.
Sorry this turned a little depressing,