People have funny reactions to how I've got my apartment set up.
One person said that just going by the books, movies, and pictures/knickknacks, they'd assume a soulless teenage girl lived here.
Another said they kinda hate me because this place is "cool" and they don't think their own house is.
My mom said "it's like a little girl's dream house".
A couple people shuddered at the girliness.
You know what though? I like it. I like my bright colors and my odd mishmash of book and movie genres. I like my mediocre paintings, and my fairy-themed knickknacks and all the other random mirrors and vases I've painted. Yeah, it's girly- so am I. So what if my decorations and paintings seem like something a soulless, pre-teen girl would be into? Give me a few bucks and a little time, and I'll have the living room ceiling covered in yards of tulle and tiny white lights, and a pile of bright, fluffy pillows and blankets to replace the futon. I might even buy a fuzzy pink chair and glitterize more stuff.
I spent a lot of years trying to compromise with someone on how the house could be decorated- things had to be dark, they had to be streamlined, they had to make sense. The house had to look like mature, dignified people lived there, people who read the classics and watch movies with deep meaning. Heaven forbid anything silly or imperfect was displayed.
Everything I own/make/paint is silly and/or imperfect. You know what? So am I.
...I didn't really intend to go off ranting...