I had lunch today with a very special friend who I’ve asked for some interior design help. Space is something that I have never been able to occupy well. Having the opportunity to get some professional help is exciting and intimidating. Yes, the ability to coordinate colors and shapes escapes me. While getting a feel for the project, over some average miso and average udon noodles, yes average, at The Box, she asked one very disarming question: “What do you want people to think of you when they walk into the space?”
<crickets chirping>
Uh. I had no answer. “What kind of a question is that?” was all I could muster, trying to buy time. My brain did a few somersaults but landed flat on its ass. Vivid recollections of mixing colors in kindergarden and coming up with putrid brown rushed through my synapses. In all my thirtysomething years of life I hadn’t really considered using my surroundings to deliberately convey an image of myself. Things that I surround myself with have meaning to me, but what does it make other people think? I’m seriously considering hiding my Darth Tater