When we sold my last house, we were told to strip it of anything that made it identifiably ours. The brightly painted walls had to go, the art needed to come down, the rooms we had lived in, played in, and built memories in had to be scrubbed clean of anything personal. We painted the walls white, staged the furniture just so, and turned our home into a showroom, because that’s what everyone said you had to do if you wanted to sell. Make it neutral. Make it blank. Make it easy for someone else to project their life onto it.
It makes sense, kinda. The idea is that people lack the ability to see past the personality of some home decor, so I guess we’re selling to the least imaginative people. And that’s ok! We followed the rules, but the whole process left me feeling strange. It was as if we were erasing ourselves from a place that had once been ours in every possible way.
The irony hit when shopping for our next house. We walked through listing after listing where nothing had been neutralized. Bright paint, cluttered rooms, strange decorating choices, and personal photos stared at us from every wall. And yet, somehow, I found it easier to imagine myself living in those spaces, not because they were blank slates, but because they were full of life. I could see the potential not in spite of their personality, but because of it. These houses weren’t selling some abstract dream of a life. They were proof that life had already happened there, happily.
We’re constantly told to make things palatable to the masses because we’re afraid our specific choices will alienate someone. But I think it’s personality that creates real connection. Inspiration doesn’t come from staring at an empty wall, it comes from seeing what’s possible when someone dares to live out loud.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, especially when it comes to creative work. We hear the same conflicting messages every day. Be different—but not so different that you stand out too much. Be authentic—but make sure it’s the polished, professional version of authenticity that everyone can digest. Stand out—but only inside very specific lines.
No wonder so much content feels the same.
Recently, I asked a few friends to critique my website. I made some changes around here, so I wanted to get some outside perspective. I got thoughtful, kind feedback, and yet, it mirrored everything I had felt selling that house. Some suggested I tone down the cheekiness. That the casual use of “cuz” might be off-putting for someone seeking a professional writer. Including a swear word in a blog post could cost me clients. Maybe they were right, but sitting with their feedback, I realized I didn’t feel the urge to change it.
I don’t want to erase myself just to be more marketable.
The right people, the ones I want to work with, the ones who will get it, aren’t looking for blank professionalism. They’re looking for the spark that tells them there’s a human on the other side. They’re not afraid of a little character, they’re looking for it. By no means does my casual choice of wording here indicate how I’ll write for someone’s brand. One glance at my extensive portfolio will show anyone how varied my abilities are.
It’s the same in every corner of life. We spend so much time seeking inspiration that we forget we are capable of being the inspiration. We won’t inspire by being the blandest or safest version of ourselves, but by daring to show up fully, even when we know not everyone will stay. Even when we know not everyone will approve.
Just recently, Wendy’s made a cheeky comment on Threads about Katy Perry’s so-called “space exploration” trip, and people lit up. The personality, the wit, the boldness, it caught fire because it felt so real. Of course, a few people clutched their pearls and demanded an apology, but Wendy’s didn’t apologize, and they shouldn’t have. If that joke offended someone, that’s fine, they’re not Wendy’s demographic anyway. The brand wasn’t trying to be everything to everyone. They were being exactly who they are for the people who appreciate it.
That’s the difference between content that survives and content that actually connects. Real voice, real personality, real humanness is what cuts through the drivel we’re inundated with. It makes us stand out from the sterilized AI generated bullshit everyone feels safe spewing. Personality is what makes people feel something. Not every moment is meant to be sanitized into blandness, some are meant to leave a mark.
I wish more people weren’t afraid to stand out and be bold. Sure, some people won’t get it, and some people will move on, but the ones who do stay, stay for the right reasons. They’re not guessing at who you are. They know. They see you, and they choose you. It feels really great being chosen for all the right reasons.
Life’s not meant to remain a blank canvas. It’s meant to get messy, to be painted on, to be filled with colour, risk, love, mistakes, beauty, and scars. It’s not supposed to appeal to everyone. It’s supposed to feel real.
And in the end, it’s the real things that last.