Curate...This word has been bouncing around in my head for weeks, and I'm not sure why...I've always loved the idea of being a curator. What a luxury to carefully select the most treasured pieces to display in a collection. In the definition of curate, "elect" is the first synonym listed. "I elect you, ceramic bowl, to grace my breakfast table." A bit dramatic maybe, but sometimes I feel this way. Do you?
When you take it out of the context of a museum or gallery, we're all "curators" of our surroundings. We obsess over gorgeous rugs, stalk the latest pillows on Etsy, and bring home far too many paint samples as we agonize over the perfect shade of gray. One small piece from a flea market can complete a book case that we've been working on for years.
I've realized that I don't feel at rest until the aesthetic of a space has been tended to. This realization does make me feel a little like a weirdo, but blog land has let me know that there are many "weirdos" like me. Sadly, it also makes me look back on my 20's with a bit of regret, wishing I had pursued what I love and done more to cultivate my ability to create inviting spaces as a career.Some brightly colored poster with modern font on Pinterest would probably have a quippy saying that glosses over regrets and attempts to make readers feel better about their situation. I'm all for words' power to inspire us in a low moment, but sometimes I don't think those catch phrases are always a good thing. I think that being honest about how we've "curated" our lives is good, even if it means you face hard truths of some "elections" you now regret.
When I sat down to type this, I had no idea where it was going and wasn't even sure if I'd publish it. I hope it's made some sense. If it did and you can relate, I would love to hear your thoughts...just to reassure me that indeed I am not the only "weirdo" out there.