Personal Space

Personal Space
Seriously.
If you ever want to know who someone is or more about them, there is nothing more descriptive than someone’s bedroom. Think of their bedroom windows as the literal version of a window to their soul; take a peek. (Don’t actually, unless you like the color orange.) But the state of their bedroom tells a lot about them. Whether their floor is visible or their walls are visible, whether or not they display personal items, what items they choose to display, color schemes, and much more.
Since I decided to continue forth with this blog, I deemed it only reasonable to give some insight as to who I am. Although I’m pretty sure there are about negative seven people who read this blog. So, consider this a “room tour” of sorts. Enjoy the extremely teenager aspects and the “I wish I was living in SoHo” elements. My room fits my personality perfectly. 
First – I’m the biggest clothes hoarder I know. This addition to my room was an attempt to expand my closet, which helped at the time, but as I accumulate more things, it is inherently less helpful. My favorite part about this shelf is that it holds so many sentimental things. My message board has mementos from random events and places I’ve been. Everything on that shelf means something to me. So much functionality in such a cool way. Pats on the back for me. 

A more artistic view of the clothes on my rack. A nice shot as well of my drive-in sized television screen.

I have a fetish for organization and attempting to conceal extra junk, thanks Ikea.

My bedside table on one of the better days. Every other day of the week there is at least two water bottles and a coffee mug on top. My Winston Churchill mug, my books, and my chamomile sleep lotion – definite favorites. Also notice the very seventh grade-esque stickers I put on the sides of my iHome. So much regret.

My desk that doubles as my jewelry table  is basically a place to set things down until they have a home. I usually keep any current magazines (note the Cara Delevingne cover of W Magazine) on top of my Lady Gaga book. I have jars upon jars on the corner. One jar has fortunes from fortune cookies, one has spare change, and one has happy notes from throughout 2013. I’m so sentimental it makes me gag.

Aaaaaaand my bed. Where all the magic happens. By magic I mean cackling at things on the internet. My crooked and un-centered poster of the Brooklyn Bridge is one of my favorite parts about my room. My bed is so teenager-y. Sorry. 
 So, I hope you gained some insight as to who I am… or just realized I was a hoarder of sorts. Oops. 
x A 
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