It’s comforting to know that I once sat next to this burgeoning poet of the century for many hours at a time (thanks to exhausting, sometimes delirious production nights for my campus newspaper). Bahar’s words sometimes want to make me weep, smile wistfully, and every single time they stir some sort of emotion I don’t even have words for… hopefully with enough reading I might just be able to put my finger on it.
What would the French language be without accents? Why do accents even exist, aside from the comedic appearance of a hat on top of an assortment of letters? Although I can’t stand here and say to you with a straight face that I’m fluent in the language of love, there’s still an inkling of an answer in my mind: to guide us through the twirls and leaps of each sentence, accentuating the romanticism I envision when someone speaks French.
And how are rooms any different than languages? A room can divulge whole stories to you that otherwise would have remained quiet, because seeing how people choose to surround themselves in a place they identify as home reveals the comforts they can’t live without, be it a single picture frame with a pair of familiar eyes staring back at them, or whole galleries to keep them company.
The details lie in the accents people choose to display, as though they are surrendering bits and pieces of themselves to those allowed in.
A white wall has always seemed to be the perfect, and most literal, blank canvas for a room to show off details that otherwise may have gone unnoticed. Take the vertical row of pegs, all perfectly aligned with the hanging light as if they were pointing our eyes towards it. White walls have always been my weakness for this reason, because they do so while washing the whole room over in what I feel is such purity.
But if you’re like me, this weakness may have shifted. I am proud to announce I have a new unforgivable weakness – a block of colour against a set of white walls that has such depth and moodiness and warmth all at the same time that to sit anywhere in its vicinity I’d feel as though I was in a sea, or a night sky in the last of its hours before the sun rises.
Aside from how charming this little boy looks, and really quite proud with his overwhelmingly large collar extending over his cardigan, the most striking part of this photo is where he is placed. An unconventional placement of artwork is deliberate, bold, and unabashedly inviting.
And so I meet my original weakness again, but this time it’s not the block of colour surprising me but the copper fixture to hang elegant and minimalist garments. If only I had clothes that I didn’t, from time to time, want to hide away from any peaking eyes, including my own. Although, can you really blame me? That sweater with two moth holes from three years ago will definitely be perfect for something. 😉
You know how I can tell this was chosen by a man? Because any real man is never really sick of playing with dinosaurs, even if he pretends it’s just a bookend for visitors. Although, to be fair, as a real-life woman, I wholeheartedly advocate any need for a toy dinosaur in my room.
Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of choosing all of the special details that give a room a story is that any one detail that may be the feature accent for you won’t be for another. That chalkboard, for most, could be the “accent winner” because it’s obviously the most hilarious way to keep your routine in check, but for my music-lover boyfriend sitting next to me, it’s most likely the pair of headphones waiting to be slipped on just next to it.
Everyone will indulge in a different part of a room if done right. In my opinion, anyway.
What’s a bit of your room you couldn’t do without? For me, it’s a face-off between a summer scarf draped between two hooks as a sort of hippy-dippy headboard, and a poster of a sunlit forest that literally soothes my core with a glance.
…that I couldn’t bring myself to ignore, nor painstakingly travel through. This metaphorical lost land I’m talking about is otherwise known as my imported blogger posts. See, what I decide to post on here really does mean something to me, and to delete literally hundreds of posts that I’ve accumulated over the years would be a minor tragedy to me. However, they are not the most visually pleasing as of yet because the import made all the photos itty bitty.
Alas, they will be resized eventually. For now, please put on your little people glasses.
This fall, I joined my university’s newspaper, and so far the good times have been rollin’. Decided I might as well post on here what I write about in the column because it’ll pertain to you lovely folks too.
Exactly what I needed to hear.
“The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company… a church… a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past… we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you… we are in charge of our attitudes.” –Charles Swindoll
…I know. Adorable/what?!
Nothing like a gleaming, golden daschund to make a room a tad more dapper. I’ve always been enamored with these petite and proud dogs. The way they trot alongside their owners never fails to bring out the giddy ten year old in me, and so, if I were to have in one in my very own home, my day would be brightened every time I saw its delightful little face.