I would not describe myself as an artist or even artistic. I am someone who knows what I like but cannot define it. I go with a feeling. I see things how I want them to be but I settle for how they actually turn out. The settling isn’t a bad thing because nine times out of ten I’m still happy with the results.
I moved into my place last March. As usual I didn’t really decorate it. I even drug my feet at unpacking. I figured it would be temporary like everything else in my life. I also had ideas of what my future would look like and figured I wouldn’t be by myself for very long so living in a blank canvas wasn’t a big deal. Life is not how we plan it.
Months later, I am single and forced to the realization that I have to make my own home. I guess “forced” isn’t exactly the right word. It’s more like I’ve chosen to make my own home. I can’t keep hoping for that other person to come along and my world becomes whole. I have to do that myself.
It’s nice to come home to a warm and welcoming place. I’ve been decorating like mad for the last two months or so. I’ve bought art, knick knacks and furniture. I’ve revamped some furniture I’ve already owned. I got crafty. Which is why I have a painting on my wall that is supposed to be a lotus flower but looks more like a psychedelic blob. It’s mine and I don’t want to get rid of it.
I know this apartment is temporary. My life in this area is going to be temporary. That might change but I’m going to be realistic about it. It doesn’t mean that I can’t make a home for myself for the first time in years. I’ve made a place for myself to belong. For the most part I’m happy.
It’s like my painting. I saw it going one way and it turned out completely different. I saw an idea on Pinterest and I tried to build on it. That didn’t work out so I just made it completely my own. I’m still pleased with the results. I may feel like something is missing on occasion but I can live with that for now. So I’m done blathering and here’s a picture of my psychedelic blob haha.