I Miss Being Artsy
I'm in the mood to blast music and sit on the floor and
paint like I used to do when I lived with my parents. I used to do a lot more
art. My room was full of color and art supplies and random objects that
inspired me. And it was messy and I liked it that way. I don’t paint or draw
anymore. I barely ever do any creative writing anymore. I don’t lay on my
bedroom floor and stare at my ceiling and daydream. I used to have a window
above my bedroom door. It was some old design where all the doors in the house
had windows above them that could be opened by pushing up this metal rod
attached to the door frame. I think it was for before houses had air
conditioning and you could open the windows in case it got too hot. I don’t really
know. I painted on the glass once. I stood on a ladder and painted a sunset and a giraffe and it took me about 2 or 3 days to finish it.
I miss my old room. It was one of my favorite places to be. The wall paper was striped in flowers and the carpet was blue. My ceiling fan was always on, which really annoyed my parents for some reason. Something to do with using power? Parents get upset about weird things. My walls were decorated in scarves and coat racks and jewelry stuck to the wall with thumbtacks. I pasted pictures of animals or art I had drawn in school to the walls. Dad had put up some shelves for me to hold my stereo and some nick-knacks and books when I was in middle school. I had tubs of Legos and board games and plastic folders full of old math assignments. I had jewelry boxes and playing cards and mismatched socks and other pieces of wonderful mess scattered around. Don’t worry, it was never in hoarder territory. I liked to refer to it as organized chaos. I knew where everything was, it just looked like a mess from an outsider’s point of view. My mom hated it and would probably claim that my room was never clean a day in my life.
When I moved out of there into my dad's house, I didn’t have all my comforts. I didn’t get to take it all with me. I had my clothes and some prized possessions. My room was yellow stucco and laminate wood flooring. And it was small. It was all work and no play. I didn’t bother to decorate. Within the year, Dad had bought a house and we moved. My room was white with soft beige carpet and a large closet. It had potential for some nice decorating but, I wasn’t planning on staying long (because college) so I never really bothered. Then I moved into my current apartment. Laminate flooring and white walls. Nice, but we never planned on decorating. No telling how long we would stay here and we didn’t want to lose our security deposit for doing damage to the walls. It's been almost four years now, so we probably could have decorated a bit. Things are still slowly making their way onto the walls, but it’s more minimalist than artist’s paradise.
All of the art on our walls is stuff from Drew’s old bedroom or posters of cars. We have a couple of photos in frames, but other than that it’s pretty un-decorated.
If it were up to me and there were no rules, I'd paint these white walls. I’d draw all over them. I’d spill paint on the floor and not worry too much because it adds character. I'd nail pictures to the wall instead of using thumbtacks.
I cant blast music in my apartment because I have neighbors and I know that since I can hear them all the time, they would hear my music. Also even if I did blast music, Id wake drew up because we have like two rooms, so of course he would hear it. I can't paint because I don’t have any canvasses or paint in the house. I need to buy some. I'm making a mental note to purchase art supplies the next time I visit the store. And I don’t have carpet, so sitting on the floor isn’t all that comfortable. I want seclusion. I want a bedroom of my own that I can shut the door, turn on some music, and create in; a space that’s just mine that I can fill with my things. I find I'm most creative when I'm not worried about someone seeing. I’m putting my personality in a box because I don’t want to get embarrassed about liking the things I like or doing the things I do (like blasting music at 3am and laying on the floor painting 👍). Why am I like this?? I don’t know, but maybe I need to get back to me, start being unapologetically me. Maybe I wouldn’t be so got-damn depressing all the time if I let myself have an outlet lol.
TTFN,
Paige 💜
I miss my old room. It was one of my favorite places to be. The wall paper was striped in flowers and the carpet was blue. My ceiling fan was always on, which really annoyed my parents for some reason. Something to do with using power? Parents get upset about weird things. My walls were decorated in scarves and coat racks and jewelry stuck to the wall with thumbtacks. I pasted pictures of animals or art I had drawn in school to the walls. Dad had put up some shelves for me to hold my stereo and some nick-knacks and books when I was in middle school. I had tubs of Legos and board games and plastic folders full of old math assignments. I had jewelry boxes and playing cards and mismatched socks and other pieces of wonderful mess scattered around. Don’t worry, it was never in hoarder territory. I liked to refer to it as organized chaos. I knew where everything was, it just looked like a mess from an outsider’s point of view. My mom hated it and would probably claim that my room was never clean a day in my life.
When I moved out of there into my dad's house, I didn’t have all my comforts. I didn’t get to take it all with me. I had my clothes and some prized possessions. My room was yellow stucco and laminate wood flooring. And it was small. It was all work and no play. I didn’t bother to decorate. Within the year, Dad had bought a house and we moved. My room was white with soft beige carpet and a large closet. It had potential for some nice decorating but, I wasn’t planning on staying long (because college) so I never really bothered. Then I moved into my current apartment. Laminate flooring and white walls. Nice, but we never planned on decorating. No telling how long we would stay here and we didn’t want to lose our security deposit for doing damage to the walls. It's been almost four years now, so we probably could have decorated a bit. Things are still slowly making their way onto the walls, but it’s more minimalist than artist’s paradise.
All of the art on our walls is stuff from Drew’s old bedroom or posters of cars. We have a couple of photos in frames, but other than that it’s pretty un-decorated.
If it were up to me and there were no rules, I'd paint these white walls. I’d draw all over them. I’d spill paint on the floor and not worry too much because it adds character. I'd nail pictures to the wall instead of using thumbtacks.
I cant blast music in my apartment because I have neighbors and I know that since I can hear them all the time, they would hear my music. Also even if I did blast music, Id wake drew up because we have like two rooms, so of course he would hear it. I can't paint because I don’t have any canvasses or paint in the house. I need to buy some. I'm making a mental note to purchase art supplies the next time I visit the store. And I don’t have carpet, so sitting on the floor isn’t all that comfortable. I want seclusion. I want a bedroom of my own that I can shut the door, turn on some music, and create in; a space that’s just mine that I can fill with my things. I find I'm most creative when I'm not worried about someone seeing. I’m putting my personality in a box because I don’t want to get embarrassed about liking the things I like or doing the things I do (like blasting music at 3am and laying on the floor painting 👍). Why am I like this?? I don’t know, but maybe I need to get back to me, start being unapologetically me. Maybe I wouldn’t be so got-damn depressing all the time if I let myself have an outlet lol.
TTFN,
Paige 💜
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