Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Another belief of mine; that everyone else my age is an adult, whereas I am merely in disguise.

Thus sayeth the ever wise Margaret Atwood.

Stolen from luxury-idea.com
One mystery of childhood that I frequently pondered is why grownups' bedrooms were so frightfully boring. The walls were beige, or some pale blue, and other than maybe a wedding picture on a dresser top the only decorations were generic seascapes or perhaps a fake plant in the corner. The only form of entertainment I ever saw in grownup bedrooms were small TV's, so small they were hardly worth watching and always much too far away to be of any practical use. Their curtains were boring. The bed was always made. Clothes were always put away in a hamper, or else at the very least folded at the end of the bed. Why on earth adults would choose to live in such drudgery was beyond my comprehension.

For perspective, I always had wonderfully expressive bedrooms growing up. I blame the previous owners of the house I grew up in for fostering this tendency since birth. The room my loving parents placed Infant Cathi into had lime green shag carpeting and Pepto pink paint on the walls. The first time I was allowed to plan and decorate my room, I chose Aladdin as the theme. I had Princess Jasmine bedsheets and a reversible comforter (depending upon whether I was in a pink or purple kind of mood), I had a fuzzy, glow-in-the-dark Aladdin poster on the wall. I had Aladdin curtains. It was magical and I loved every inch of it. As a preteen I redecorated into a more moderate theme of "blue purple and green", but the room was alive. As a teenager I requested that all four of my walls be different colors, and I painted on the darkening shade that covered my window with cheap Jordasche nail polish and invited my visiting friends to do the same.

I now type this to you from the bedroom I share with no one, in the apartment that is mine and mine alone. The bedroom walls are a lovely and tasteful grayish-green that I adore. The only entertainment in here is my bookshelf full of fantasy novels. I currently have an 8-picture frame hanging on the wall for decoration which still has the stock photos in it. Beyond sleeping and going through the vicious cycle of "get dressed and throw clothes on the floor" and "be angry at clothes being on the floor, pick them up" I spend very little time in here.

You know why? I've unlocked the secret of grownup bedrooms. I wanted this place to be peaceful and distraction-free because I wanted my bedroom to be a place for sleeping and resting. It is no longer my refuge from the rest of the world, the only place I have to express myself and be surrounded by things I love because I have an entire apartment just for that.

Suck on that, children! Just wait until you grow up and have nine hundred square feet to do with as you please! For the record, I've personalized the rest of my space with Guitar Hero band equipment, posters of places I'd like to go, and a china cabinet full of my speech and debate awards in the place of china.

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