Sometimes I feel like I'm destined to have white walls for the rest of my life. I know that seems an odd point to complain about, but I'm sitting in my very white living room and staring into my white dining area and kitchen. I don't mind apartment living, the fact that I cough up a chunk of cash every month to feel safe in my community is well worth it to me. But what I cannot stand is this glaring white image that reminds me how much this isn't really "my" home.
I was able to choose the blue color of "my" room at my parents house. Aside from that, I don't believe I've been privileged to paint to my preference. I was visiting friends this morning who have made their small home into a wealth of color and warmth. Their paint is daring, creative, and I love it. One room has vertical strips, another looks like the inside of a Starbucks. They're still working on the kitchen, but are planning to do something with bricks.
I've done what I can to my little space. Added bits of color through drapes, chairs, and colorful photos. Luckily I have giant windows that draw your attention outwards rather than up the high walls. I really have no idea what I would actually paint this room, now that I think about it. I may actually be too much of a coward to ever paint with real authority and courage. My visions of deep reds and bright yellows will probably fade away to practical khaki and beige hues...but that's assuming I might one day be allowed to paint a wall.
1 comment:
I feel like that too, sometimes. How long will it be before I either own my own space or rent a place that I can paint?
Your space does look cozy and cute, though. Good job! :)
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