This is a response to The Daily Post’s one word prompt: Paint


Sometimes I try to be different on purpose. It usually doesn’t work out very well. Most of the time, I get too focused on what other people think, and lose track of what I actually want. Sometimes, however, I do something very different, and don’t realize how different I am until later. That’s what happened when I painted my room.

When I went away to college, my parents started doing all the house makeover things they’d been talking about for years, including replacing the upstairs carpet and painting nearly every room in the house. Although I had partially moved out, I still came home for the summers, and my parents mostly considered my old room to still be mine, so my mom told me I could paint my room whatever color I wanted, so long as I did most of the labor. Of course, since I usually have a hard time deciding on one of anything, I asked if I could choose more than one color, and mix it up a little. My mom’s hesitant “Sure, if that’s what you want” should probably have clued me in to the fact that my room was going to be very different from the rest of the house, but I was already in creative mode and didn’t notice a thing.

My mom chose lovely colors for the house. It’s all in warm shades of pale peach, creamy yellow, and soft taupe. Some of the larger rooms have different colors on opposing walls, but every wall is a solid color. The carpet is tan, almost like a pinkish sand color. The house is gorgeous, and it doesn’t match my room at all.

I chose lavender as a base color, bright green, deep turquoise, and a periwinkle shade. My ceiling is the same warm white as the rest of the house, but that and the carpet are the only things that match. Instead of painting in solid shaped, I laid down the base coat, then thinned the other three colors and stippled them on, the green mostly at the top, the turquoise mostly in the middle, and the periwinkle mostly on the bottom. Then I also added stippling along the top in the same white as the ceiling.

Now between the sandy colored floor and the multicolored bluish walls, being in my room looks like and artist’s representation of being in the ocean, which was exactly what I was going for. Though the transition from the rest of the house feels very strange, my room is beautiful, and it’s art, and it would never have happened if I had chosen my paint in an effort to prove something to the world. It’s a good reminder to me that doing what I love usually makes a better point than carefully plotting how to make a point to someone else.

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4 thoughts on “Not Just a Different Color

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