I will most likely start writing my project in my room, a place where I feel the safest and creative. In many ways, my room is a reflection of who I am. I’ve put awards and art up on my walls so that all my quirks have a place to live. I hung my red and gold tapestry on the wall next to my bed and I like to think it awakens the bohemian, artsy side of me. I found a pack of Ikea paintings of lush green foliage and taped them throughout the house. In fact, one of the first things you’ll see as you enter my apartment is a painting of a lush green banana leaf. I love the bright, emotion-evoking colors of nature. If I could live in the Amazonian rain forest I would. Of course, I enjoy looking at these various decorations, but I feel that they contribute a sort of energy to my space. I feel like a room is only useful when it makes you feel so good that you prosper in it. The room should inspire you and mine does that for me. I long to be in my room after a long day to re-energize me, to bring my good spirits back.

I live in a studio apartment so when I say “my room” I’m including all aspects of an apartment. Although my space is small, I regard it optimistically. There’s only one counter between the sink and the stove in my kitchen, but I make the most of it with the various storage solutions I have. My fridge is a bit smaller than a regular one, but I still stuff it full of all my favorite foods, including some things I’d like to try out. I only have four overhead cabinets and I haphazardly use them to arrange my dishes and food. My stove has an oven light, something I’ve never had before, and when I discovered it I was so ecstatic. I don’t know what got into me, it’s just a light, but I think there’s something about moving to a new place and having more than I ever thought I could. For so long, I thought I would be stuck in a place where I was unhappy and not allowed to upgrade or level up, which is something I could touch on in my project.

My living room is merged with my bedroom so I like to imagine a line dividing them. Although I went on a massive Ikea trip after moving in, I still don’t have a sofa, there’s only one place to sit besides my bed, and there’s no coffee or dining table. My friends do come over, and they always say I need a place for them to sit and eat, but I haven’t followed through. To me, it feels unnecessary, but maybe that’s just me hogging up my room for myself. My tv sits on an old table against the wall and I use two pink plastic storage bins as a coffee table. This represents the mix matched, confusing side of me. Sometimes you never know what you’ll get with me, and my makeshift furniture definitely shows that. I’ll be writing my project at my desk, which could easily be the focal point of the bedroom. It consists of a 56 inch Ikea tabletop paired with two of their drawer units and I have wanted it since high school. It gives me enough space to do my makeup and my homework and it comfortably houses all the materialistic things I love. My desk is where I do all my creative things and, consequently, where a lot of junk gets tossed throughout the day.

Out of all the things in my room, I think my desk will inspire my writing the most. I’ve gotten ready for meaningful events at this desk, I bought this desk with my own money, and I enjoy my free time after school watching Youtube videos at this desk. It makes me feel relaxed and focused, which I need to be able to write without judging myself. If my project were about a place, it would be about this desk and I would describe my greatest triumphs and defeats. I’d describe my constant struggle with juggling my school/work/social obligations and how my autoethnography fits into that scheme of things. At my desk, my fingers would tap away at my keyboard, not worrying about grammar or making sense or anything else, and I’d spill the contents of my brain into Microsoft Word. I want my project to make me happy, to show me something about myself that I’ve never considered before.

It sounds crazy, but when something happens to me and I have a lot to get off my chest, my room is where I talk to myself. I consider solutions, arguments, insults, and opportunities. I have spoken my thoughts into the air and they’ve come back to me with an answer that only I could create. If I wrote my project in the bland library at Lehman I know I’d be uninspired, staring at the person sleeping on the couch a few feet away from me, unable to get my fingers tapping. The library is for chemistry homework and figuring out that last calculus problem, not for writing about myself. My room is multifaceted, it can be for chemistry homework and an impromptu poem. I sit at my desk and do calculus homework and then, hours later, I sit and let my mind flow freely for a blog post. If I’m wrapped in the energy of my room, I know I’ll succeed.

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