Friday, February 5, 2010

The Place that is Me

Find your setting. Well that one's easy. I'm sitting in a room where my imagination has clearly been set loose. It's full of and decorated with things that are solely meant to distract me from reality. Over there, in that corner? Oh yeah, that's just a bookcase full of books I know from cover to cover, CDs of which I could sing every track, and movies that I can quote at the drop of the hat. I like to think of myself as accomplished... in procrastination.

The walls are plastered with anything you can imagine: movie posters, pictures cut from magazines, images dug out from rummage sales, a bulletin board covered with whatever you can think of. I'd much rather look into those windows than the one facing the dismal street outside. Why look out that window when I've got multiple ones displaying foreign scenes, dashing colors, wondrous stories in each picture. I mean, does my neighbor taking out his trash really compare at all to the deep, crystal blue of a Grecian harbor?

Now that might be enough distractions for you, but not me. Piled, stuffed, hidden away in every place imaginable are random, colorful objects that you can't find just anywhere. I pride myself on being a successful collector of stuff. Got any junk you need to get rid of? I"m sure there's a spot for it in my room. I've got martini glass lights, dollar store trinkets, leis, old souveniers, grain bin piggy bank; I could keep going but I think you've got the idea.

You see, to me, my room is where I hold my memories. My hopes and dreams. My regrets and accomplishmenhts. My everything. Every object, every picture, every piece of junk holds a special meaning to me. Places I've been, places I wish to go. Memories I've created, more memories I hope to create. Achievements, accomplishments, failures kept out in order to learn from them. Yes, it's busy and distracting. And yes, it's a bit weird and random. But it's a reminder and symbol of every I am.

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