April 17, 2015

The Story of My Beige Living Room

I'm not skilled at interior design.

In my living room, there's a rocking chair facing away from all the other furniture because someone is always turning it toward the TV, and it stays that way most of the time because people watch TV way more often at my house than host friends for intellectually stimulating conversation.

My couch and chair are the same color as the carpet, walls, and floor-to-ceiling window coverings, like we tried to camouflage the furniture's ugliness by making it disappear. We didn't. It's just a really great coincidence that the condo we are renting from friends is the same shade of beige as the seats we bought for our old not-beige house.

A sad little ficus tree slumps in a plastic beige pot.

A graphic designer I used to work with once told me, "My favorite houses are the ones filled with things the owner loves." She didn't care about Feng Shui or staging or artful design--and she's a designer. She cared about the story the house told about the people who lived there.

So here's the real story of my living room.

I like the awkward rocking chair because I bought it to rock my first baby in, and now she's old enough to make me proud and drag the thing to the TV herself. (To watch highly educational programs like BUBBLE GUPPIES. Don't judge.)

I love my pathetic little leaning ficus tree because my grandpa, gone 11 years now, started it from a shoot from his own ficus tree, same as the tree my mom used to take my picture next to every year since kindergarten. She has never repotted her towering shoot of a tree in 30 years. That says something about grit, survival, and maybe even family tradition, though I don't know exactly what.

I like the ugly couches. They are so unattractive I don't mind when they're commandeered for trampolines or slides or forts.

There are a few beautiful things in my living room too. I sold a piano I couldn't play to pay for artwork instead and soon found myself mesmerized by a print of the Holy Family's flight into Egypt hanging in a museum store. Mary's head covering billowing around the Christ child reminded me of my own desire to shelter my child from danger and my need for heaven's aid to know how. I forgot until I brought the print home that it's kind of beige.

I like the story my house tells, even if I daydream about a day the seating arrangement will be less awkward, less beat up, and way more colorful.

My point?

I'm back to wanting to blog about things I love.

I keep trying to order this blog to be a writer blog, a craft blog, an industry blog. But right now I have no cred--no reason anyone should listen to me about writing when industry experts are doing a fine job having plenty to say. Maybe instead I can use this space to hear the stories of things you love.

So what's the story of your living room?

If you're a writerly/readerly type, what objects do your favorite characters have at home? What story do these objects tell?


Sylinda's Life said...

I love this post ;) just updated my blog too. not good at updating it these days, but also not gonna say sorry, cause I am not really...

Tabitha Thompson said...

Ack! I left a comment and it was "forbidden"!

Since I'm not going to write about my family room again, I will re-add the important part: Kim, you inspire me. I love your authentic, funny, engaging voice! It was great seeing you at WIFYR!

I too keep abandoning my blog because it doesn't have "focus." So I'm just going to write what I like.

You have inspired me to get back on the bandwagon. Give it an hour or two and then I'd love if you would check in: http://www.tabithathompson.com

xx Tabitha