Nature to nurture.

My current apartment is the only place I’ve lived in (since high school) where I am absolutely unenthused about making it my own. Sure, I have my stuff here, but I’m so sick of the area that I haven’t bothered to hang up limited edition artwork or regularly vacuum the blood red carpeting. When I decided to end the denial that this place is not a place I’m proud of, I tried to tack up some pictures I like. Didn’t do it. That’s like putting a Band-Aid on a full-body burn.

Kasia posted a rather timely reflection on inner feng shui:

“Your soul is as disheveled as your apartment, and until you can clean it up a little you don’t want to invite anyone else inside.”

— Jay McInerney, Bright Lights, Big City

It made me think of how my mom tells me that making your bed makes you feel at peace. It reminded me I have some dishes to wash (I almost left this as “washes to dish” before publishing – Hah!) during The Office tonight, and there is still a pile of accumulating stuff that really just ought to be taken round the corner to Good Will. It made me wonder, Carrie Bradshaw style: When it came to interior design affecting inner feng shui, how did I keep myself going in the past?

I apologize in advance for going down Self-Absorbed Memory Lane. This little photo expedition is going to be so meta, you’re going to want to un-friend me.

Judging by my rooms junior year and senior year, I was a lot more intent on keeping myself creative and stimulated. Neat or not, I was never the one to invite people to my place. I never wanted the social room. It was to be my haven, and though I never didn’t answer the door, it was closed so often that I didn’t really have that super-available open-door policy. I was very selfish about my space, about what went into it. The things that became permanent fixtures had to be interesting in some way – both individually and as part of the bigger picture.

A classic explosion of all things college.

For the most part, I still have all of those things from my junior year room. I totally forgot I had plants in there, though. That’s a shame. I just don’t do plants.

Hello, poster cliches!

Each of those posters was supposed to keep me lively. When I got dressed in the morning, they peeked over my shoulders in my dresser mirror.

Ibiza, Ministry of Sound slip mat, Technics decks

Music, dance, travel.

Trainspotting – Choose Life

Something about not being a sheep, sticking it to the man, carpe diem, bitch!

Lola Rennt

Showing off knowledge of un-obscure German films, keeping up a fiery red(dish) aura, doing all you can for the people and things you love.

I wish I had taken more pictorial notes on my room senior year, but you’ll have to tolerate some random semi-social shots.

My first Photo Booth session.

I do not remember where those glasses came from. I think a failed 80s party? To the right of CB are my favorite snapshots. I have no idea where that pile of photos is and that makes me sad. And yes, those are errored CD-Rs dotting the back wall. Urban Outfitters lime green tinsel tree on the right.

Asian girls all party the same, too.

This shot features some antiques. The suitcase on the left is a turntable. The stool on the right is from my grandparents’ old house. I posted a nametag on the door made out of coasters. And there wasn’t much creeping, sneaky activity from me because those event lanyards hanging off the door handle clanked against the door every time I went to the bathroom.

(This is one of my favorite friend photos ever, featuring two of my favorite balls of energy.)

Overall, I think there was a lot more color to my places in the past. Things were always bright. It may be the unforeseen byproduct of having a sanguine carpet, but I just don’t feel that way about where I live now. It’s colder and less livable, it seems.

Maybe that’s what I need to change in order to change my attitude and my karma. Girls, I believe a makeover is seriously in order.

I shall continue to ask myself, “What do I want more? New job or new place?” But until I figure it out, that’s all for now.

Muah.