I pondered undoing my hammering and spreading out the beauty, tailoring the decor for an outsider’s eye. How much did I care about Their opinion? Who is the one actually living here, enjoying the view? All of a sudden the placement of my bulletin board was about more than what height to put the nail, and all about owning my own life, believing in myself, and yanking up my confident adult underpants.
It’s a radical move – catering to my own taste – especially because I’m learning on the fly, defining preferences as I go. Its un-trodden snow to opt based on intuition, to follow my own leanings rather than through the filer of others who I assume know better than I. I brush aside the nudge of Nora Ephron in ‘When Harry Met Sally’, “Everybody thinks they have good taste but they can’t all possibly have good taste...” and hope that my art maintains no resemblance to the aforementioned wagon-wheel coffee table. I’m choosing not to care today. It’s my sense of peace that these walls are charged with unearthing, and my personal nook in the world that needs to spur an exhale as I unlock the door.
I leave things where they are, and for now, breathe easy wherever my gaze falls. That shall be the new measure of success. So lets make my walls ooze with balance, reflect motivation, and draw me close with the scent of Home. Let my eyes rest upon tree houses that nudge easy smiles and frames twinkling with memories of laughter and sweetness.
Welcome to adulthood, Lauren, where I get to be queen, master of my domain, and the judge of good taste. I think I could learn to like this...
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