GOLLY GEE WHILIKERS BATMAN!

Trading Spaces @ 4:03 p.m. on 2004-09-04

Written for P-O-Y

If you had the chance to have a professional interior designer come and recreate a room of your choice, following the rules stated above, would you do it? What room would you choose? Bedroom? Dorm room? Living room?.... And if the end result actually turns out to be the room of your dreams, what would it look like?

If the end result turns out to be your worst nightmare; what would it look like?

At first I would accept immediately. A chance to redo a room in my house would be an amazing once in a life time kind of thing. But then I'd be scared. I'm afraid of change. I'm painting my room soon but I can barely stand that much difference. I've been living in the same house since I was born, for fourteen years. Changing my whole room would be almost too much for me. Especially since I'd have no control over it.

If you asked someone to describe me, 'control freak' would not be the first thing they would think of. Sure some people that didn't er...appreciate my ...er...willingness to help and encourage others in group related activities may say a little pushy or something, but I don't think, or hope, that they would think I was a control freak. But I am.

I need to control everything. It's odd. I don't need to control things like what's going on around me. But I need to control what's happening inside of me. Which is why it hurts me so much that I can't always control my weight. I can't control how much I eat because my self will is being eaten as well. But I need to control my knowledge. I have to know. There are only some things like the pyramids that I don't mind having a mystery. But everything else I have to know. Otherwise it scares me. I'm afraid of death. Not my own, but others around me.

So a thing like this would probably push me over the edge. Which may be a bit dramatic but it's kind of true.

I'd finally decide that I'd pick someone to do my room that was knew me very well, was trustworthy, and knew how much this kind of thing would be important to me. I would have them redo my room. Because that's the only thing I have complete control over considering my parents own and live in my house. Actually vice versa. But if I was old enough to have my own houes, I'd still pick my room. Because it's something that's special to me but still doesn't feel like me yet. It still feels like my brother's old room. Then we would begin.

The room that would be my dream would be...well, much like a dream. I would have it painted white and blue and yellow and pink. I don't even like the colors yellow and pink but for some reason I'd want my walls in those colors. It would be like a sky. And my ceiling would have a large sun on it. Painted beautifully. So that everytime I was depressed, so depressed that I thought nothing could take me out of my dark hell, the sun could brighten me up, no matter how little. I would have a canopy bed. Four poster. But the material over the posts would be see-through blue, pink, and yellow material. They'd fall together perfectly so that you could see each color separately at the ends but also blended together in the middle. I'd have one of those lights from BB&B with all those branches with the different colored bulbs on each end.

And every spot on the wall would be covered in book shelves. But the books would be in boxes, not yet in the shelves. So I could organize them specially on each shelf. I love to do that. It is one of my favortie parts of buying books. Like I like to do. But first my friend would tell me that I could paint it all by myself. I'd get every color and put words of wisdom all over the sides. And at the top it would say, "Get away from it all - read a book" And there would be things like, "We read to imagine the worst and the best, exactly what we have already." all different quotes that I made up myself. And when I walked in and they told me this, I'd get this warm feeling in my stomach and I'd finally feel like my books were all mine, because they were on these shelves that were all mine. It may sound selfish but I never ever have much that is my own.

I would have bean bag chairs on a rug that's right in the corner of my book shelves. The rug would be the bluest of blues and made of the finest material that makes you feel like you're really sitting on a cloud.

Then I would have my desk. It's white. It's got lots of drawers so that I can hold all the clutter and not have to worry about it. About my desk I would have one long shelf. It would hold all my notebooks and journals and sketchpads. And below it would be a laptop because I'm obsessed with computers. And a cd player with incredibly loud speakers where I could hide beneath the sound when I'm down. Between my desk and the closest bookshelf, would be a tall cd holder that holds ALL my cds and a dvd holder that could hold my...15 dvds. And it would be perfect.

My most horrible nightmare will not be described in so much detail. If thinking about changing my room to the best room makes me feel a little bit queezy then thinking about the worst will really make me feel horrible. But I'll explain it a bit - JUST FOR YOU. Heh. Ok.

This room would be painted black, brown, and puke green. I normally like black. It would be one of my favorite colors if it were one. But a black room would be so dark and seem so much smaller and I'd get a bit claustrophobic even though I've never been the teeniest bit claustrophobic. It would be decorated in black with brown and green stripes. The zig zag annoying stripes. The kind that make you feel like your in Alice in Wonderland from hell.

The walls would be bare. I'd have only a desk. Painted that ugly green. It would have file boxes on the top. It would be orderly. So orderly you felt like taking a bat and taking out your anger on the so-neat-it's-crazy desk. It would just have one bed. With squeeky springs. When I'd walk in, my heart would sink. And I wouldn't hyperventilate or anything, but I'd be really depressed by then. The first thing I would think is what the hell? Then I'd think, where are all my books going. This is not what I was expecting my room to end up like! And that unrealistic, imaginitive, stuck-in-a-dream voice inside my head would say, "It's not perfect."

But what can I say? Nothing is ever really perfect in the end...

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