Personal Post :: January

It’s crazy. I rearrange my books almost as often as I change my socks. No joke. There’s something therapeutic about it, you know? I am a true Taurus – an introverted, stubborn (somewhat arrogant) creature obsessed with making sure my home is a wealth of personal comfort all the while hoarding material things close to my heart. Books. Paintings. Black and white photos. Antique typewriters. Oversized blankets. Fluffy pillows. Candles that smell like night air.

I could go weeks without seeing another human as long as I could spend the time alone: curled into flannel sheets, balancing a cup of coffee and a book in my hands, in a T-shirt three sizes too big, and my dog at my feet. (Isn’t he handsome? ⬇️)

After thinking on it, one of my biggest regrets of 2017 on this blog was not sharing enough of WHO I AM. Me. The girl behind the keyboard. When I cleared the blog of all the old posts, I realized such a small percent of what I published was truly personal. My emotions were out there but the shoulders I carry them on weren’t. Does that make any sense? My point is- I don’t want to sound self-obsessed. I want you all to get to know me so I can get to know you. Open up a new path of communication and friendship.

Therefore, 2018 will be a huge step for me in that direction. Share a little of my home, what music is blaring while I’m in the shower, what potentially toxic thing my dog almost ate, etc.

First stop is my bookshelves (currently).

Keep in mind, at the end of the day, I want my home to be 50% personality and 50% workspace. I love objects that serve a purpose while still showcasing a little bit of spunk. Here’s what my shelves look like in the living room:

Not perfect but perfect for who I am this month. – My “word” for January = express. I’m learning to come to terms with who I am as a woman, in her late twenties, single, juggling practicality and her head being in the clouds 97% of the time. I want to live with meaning and find a peaceful way to express myself, when lately I seem to only be able to do so in anger. The gallery wall in the living room encompasses so many things which hold value to me: art by my younger cousins, photos of my family in moments of doing things they truly love, music/art which touches me, etc. It’s hard – this whole “love yourself before you try and love anyone else” thing – but I find, the more I write and the more I create, the more I like who I am.


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