A "Nice" Bedroom
My mom always kept saying to me when I was a child, "I just want you to have a nice bedroom," and "When will you decide you want a nice room?" She emphasized the word "nice" - really drew it out. She implied that my desires and current room were definitely not what she meant by "nice."
.
Looking back, I find it rather baffling. She didn't have a nice room. There was hardly anything in the house that constituted "nice" by society standards or by my own standards as an adult. The closest I (regularly) saw to "nice" in my childhood was "cool." So I had a series of "cool" changes to my room, but few of them were what I'd think of as "nice."
.
So what is nice? What is cool?
.
I think of "nice" as being elegant, sweet, color-coordinated, and calm. Tactful artwork. Finished walls, coordinated wood trim, polished furnishings. Clean and shining floors. Organized, pleasing possessions. Organic, flowing design. House-plants.
.
As I said, nothing in my childhood fit that description of nice.
.
I think of "cool" as being surprising, fun, bright, eye-capturing, and engaging. Artwork draws your eye and holds you gaze, but not for long, because something else catches your eye. Quotes written directly on the walls. Murals finished or unfinished. Interesting possessions that may or may not be orderly. The colors may or may not coordinate, but they are not subdued, calm colors.
.
Most every arrangement of bedroom I had grown up was cool, especially in my teenage years.
.
When I moved in with Hibiscus in late 2015, I finally had a nice bedroom. This contrasted with my year in Sunnyland with Paladin, because our bedroom there was ours, not mine, and because it was rather dull instead of actually being nice. Paladin's apartment bedroom didn't fit the description for nice or cool. It was bland.
.
Come February of 2015 I found myself wondering how I could bring a little bit more "cool" energy into my "nice" bedroom without compromising any of the nice-ness of it. I contemplated what sort of shelves I wanted to add, what artworks I might want to hang.
.
Isn't it ironic, mom? I move out and I finally discover what it means to have a room that is nice, I thought.
.
It felt good. It felt really good. I found myself hearing, yet again, the words Paladin had conveyed to me in his time apart from me: "Fulfilling one's programing is a profoundly spiritual experience."
.
Yes, I thought. It really, really is.
.
I'd done it. I'd gotten the nice room. I'd gotten myself engaged to the white rich guy. I had not one, but two men who loved me more than I loved them, and my love was no small thing. I'd even increasingly become more adept at being professional, perfectionist and creative all at the same time, all while not compromising my own value of getting things the fuck done.
.
I smiled to myself as I reflected, as I wrote, as I prepared myself for a week in Sunnyland, as I conversed with Paladin. My room had become a sanctuary at last. My life had become a sanctuary at last.