I Need a Paint Job

Did you know that your landlord is required to paint the walls and ceilings of your matchbox sized New York City apartment every three years? It’s true!

Last week, I noticed that my apartment could really use a paint job. It’s not that my alabaster walls look horribly dingy; they just look like I’ve lived in this apartment for 6 plus years. So in between sips of merlot, I googled “how often does my landlord have to paint my apartment?” Once I got my answer, I sent an email to my property manager.

The next day, she replied stating that she would have the painter inspect my apartment the following Monday and schedule the paint job for later in the week.  She also mentioned that someone 18 years or older would need to be present, and that I’m responsible for removing everything from the walls and moving all of my furniture to the middle of each room and moving everything thing back after the work is done.

Perfect… I thought as I sat on my sofa watching the episode before the season finale of Marlon titled "Appropriate Marlon" (who, I must add, retweeted THREE of my groupie fangirl ass tweets – I was LITTY!), and laughed at him telling some bougie Black dude named Mark Taylor that the slogan for his fake charity is, “A financially strapped negro is a terrible thing to support.” I died!!! 

Suddenly, I thought more introspectively about my property manager’s email, and how needing a paint job related to my own life… and how a financially strapped negro is a terrible thing to support. Marlon is fucking hilarious, but he ain’t lying!

I need a blank slate. I need to start fresh, and in order to start fresh, I need to take everything down from my walls. My doubts. My insecurities. My negative thoughts. My past mistakes. I also need to move everything to the middle of my apartment. I need to center myself. Refocus. Realign. Reaffirm. Refresh. Taking things down and getting everything out of the way is the only way the painter can repaint your walls. It’s also the only way you can renew yourself.    

On August 17, 2017 at 12:46pm, I finally did something I’d been meaning to do but was previously too chickenshit to do it... I bought my custom domain – also known as a URL – jenniferdlaws.com. Thankfully, my name was still available. Since 2015, I wanted to start a personal blog. I wanted a place where I could talk shit, give my 2 cents about current events, and share my poetry and life experiences, but I kept procrastinating. I self-sabotaged my own desires by thinking that my writing wouldn’t be good enough.

Who would give a fuck about my opinion?

Who would care to know about my experiences or read my poems?

Would my blog really help anyone or would I just be wasting my damn time?

Bitch, are you really even a writer cause your last book came out in 2006, and you haven’t put out anything since?

Yeah, I mentally went through all of that shit and then some…

Ultimately, I decided after turning 33 that I needed to start writing (regularly) again. I needed to stop fucking around, and buy my online presence. Maybe it was the thought of this being my Jesus Year and following my spiritual purpose that gave me a kick in the pants. Maybe it was this need to deepen my brand identity and create a digital space that would allow me to further my goals. Or maybe it was this clairvoyant vision I had years ago that I would win the lottery jackpot twice and blow the fuck up, and I didn’t want anyone profiting off my name that made me purchase my namesake domain. Yes, it will happen. Don't doubt me!

At the end of the day, purchasing a URL was really just for me. To get out of my comfort zone. To work on something every week that I’m passionate about and also scares the shit out of me. To have a therapeutic outlet that helps me make sense of this thing we call life. And if by chance it helps someone who happens to stumble across it, then even better.

The painter came by yesterday morning and assessed the work that needed to be done. He mentioned that if I wanted a custom color that I would need to provide the paint myself, otherwise he would paint it “rental white.” It took him less than five minutes to do the assessment, and he told me he would contact the property manager to set up a time suitable for both of our schedules.

​This Friday, I’m getting my apartment painted. It’s kind of symbolic really because it’s also the first day of autumn – this lovely Leo’s favorite season!

New season, new walls, new me!