Tomorrow will be the one-month anniversary of this blog. I started it up on a whim and have come to enjoy posting more and more. Gratifyingly, I seem to be developing, little by, little, something of a readership. At least, a very small bundle of people not including my mother who pop in, hang out for a few minutes and maybe - just maybe - post a comment. This thrills me to no end, as you can imagine. I even got my first blog link yesterday, from the fabulous Lisa from Eclectic Detective
(love that blog title!). So I figured I might step up to the podium and share a little personal tidbit in honor of the occasion. Nothing too personal, you understand - this blog is not about me, it's what about inspires me. No dirty laundry here...
Anyway, here's one thing you might not have guessed about me: I'm messy. Maybe even a slob. On a good day, you'll peek into my teeny bedroom and note the slightly romantic cluttered bohemian's attic kind of look. On a bad day...well, I've heard the terms "train wreck" and "bomb explosion" used kindly.
In my own defense, I will say that it is very difficult to keep my tiny bedroom space clean, as the room is 8'x10', I have a lot of stuff (did I mention I'm a packrat?) and not much storage. But a compulsive cleaner and Container Store
staffer could probably pull it off. Not me, though.
I'm also a night owl. I love that deep velvety silence that creeps in around 2 or 3 in the morning, when it feels like you're the only person in the whole world. At the moment, it's just me and the snow plows. I get my best ideas late at night, I do my best writing and just function better in general (you would definitely agree if you knew what I am like at 8 am).
This causes problems, however. Because while I said I get my best ideas late at night...I also get some pretty bad ones.
As you may know, the colored book spine organizational debate has been making its way around the design blogosphere recently (here,
). Pretty much everyone agrees that it looks beautiful, but its not very practical. My first exposure of this look was two years ago, passing by the office of one of my brilliant and hip art history professors (she wears a Freitag messenger, ok?). You can't deny the aesthetic impact, that's for sure.
I decided last week that I was going to try it this weekend, if
I had time. Just to see how it went. Fast forward to 2 am on Monday. The weekend had flown by, and there had been no chance to implement my little experiment. I had the "brilliant" idea to try it now.
It was really fun and easy getting the books off the shelves and putting them into their teetering color-coded piles. A fly on the wall would have heard many muttered exclamations: "Ohhh, that's where that went!" "Hey, cool, I own that? being two such examples. After 20 minutes of this I realized there were about five shelves of books (which remain untouched) that I simply did not want to separate from their little categories - school books, for example, or books with different-colored spines that are supposed
to go together (like Harry Potter). And then I started tripping over books. I stepped back and surveyed the damage:
To give you some idea of the proportions of this mess....
It takes up virtually my entire floorspace.
(You will, perhaps, note the irony of the book
towards the center right of the first image - a rollicking good read by the way).
Truth is, I need some moral support here. Advice would be MUCH appreciated. Should I pack them back off to their old spots, or continue the aesthetic experiment at the cost of all practicality?
Readers, I need you!!
Please hurry and give me some feedback before my mother sees this post and freaks.