my own place

I can’t wait to have a place of my own. Even if it’s just a studio apartment….at least it will be mine.

Mine to clutter and clean whenever I choose. Mine to decorate in whatever colors I like.

doesn’t that seem perfect?

A place to have my things out. And maybe even have a book case with a record player on the top shelf. And maybe it will look something like this:

Everyone needs their own space. Space to be alone and with ones thoughts. A space to be surrounded by the things that really mean something to them.

Sometimes I imagine my future and eventual place. It will be warm and inviting. Like walking into sunshine.

And it will be perfect flawed and random and the styles may not all make sense.

But most importantly, it will be 100% me. 

girl put your records on…

a perfect day…

 I want a record player

There’s just something about listening to records that seems to vintage and lovely


 Growing up we had a huge old record player and my grandparents record collection…














…I would listen to all of them in one sitting; in love with the way they sounded and watching the needle work it’s way to the center.

can this PLEASE be me??

the good ol’ days

Records are so simple and pure.




From a time when life was simple and innocent…




…a time when boys courted girls and mothers wore pearls.

why shouldn’t this be me someday??

I think it’s time I look to make this happen.


I feel warm and happy just imagining it. 


And shouldn’t everyone strive to feel warm and happy?