Mario Villalobos


I’ve been thinking a lot about the stuff I’ve bought and the stuff I want to buy. I’ve realized that what I buy is a reflection of who I am and who I want to be. I have a style, and I’m trying to purchase my way toward manifesting that style in my home. From the design of the products I choose, to their colors, to the quantity of books and how I display them, it’s all a reflection of how I want to live.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my home. I’ve been recalling memories of my childhood, of my teenage years and early twenties when I was in college, to my early to mid twenties that I spent with my mom in California, to my late twenties now where I started over and am finally, truly living on my own, I’ve been thinking about it all. For the first time ever, I’m eager to have people come over to my place, my home. I didn’t realize I had that weighing on my mind until I rearranged my home to make room for my couch. A cornucopia of ideas exploded in my imagination and now all I’m thinking about is my home.

One of the thoughts that makes me sad is the fact that I first began trying to improve my home because of her, but she’s no longer a part of my life, which is for the best. It makes me sad, though, that I won’t be able to show it off to her. Ah well. That’s what the next girl is for.

I talked to a co-worker today and she told me that this place (this place referring to Montana) is a great place to raise a family but a horrible place for a single guy my age to live in. There’s nothing to do here, she said, and especially since I’m from the city, it could get really really boring. I agreed. We talked about me getting a passport and traveling to Canada or Europe and living my life in a fun way. I agreed. That’s been on my todo list for forever. I told her I wanted to move to New York. She said it would be very expensive, and I agreed. But I can’t stay here long-term. I told her I keep giving myself one year to decide what I want to do, and each year since I’ve been here, I’ve been giving myself another year and another year. One day it’s going to have to stop.

I think I’m type of guy who can’t stay in one place until he’s found what he’s looking for. I don’t know what that is or if that’s even true, but it feels true. It feels like I’m looking for a home, and every time I think I’m there, I screw it up.