Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Closet Neat Freak
Four hours ago, I lost it. I looked around my room, unable to shake the irritation that has been growing in me ever since I moved in. And suddenly I snapped. I could no longer stand to even be in my room.
I went on a cleaning binge.
To be perfectly honest, it wasn't even that thorough of a binge. I really just shoved most of the shit that covering my floor into the closet. Call it sweeping under the carpet if you may. Whatever it is, it worked. As soon as the floor cleared, some of my irritation started to lift.
But I took it one step further. I finally attacked the pile of posters that had occupied three feet of floor space for the last two weeks because I hadn't wanted to roll them up.
I put all my posters up, I put hooks up so that I could hang up my framed pictures, my clothes, my clock and keys. And hours later, I looked around to realize something: I'd put my posters up in almost the exact same configuration that they'd been in my old room. Especially the mural of celebs that I have over one wall. That mural consists of a set of about 22 separate magazine pinups all put together individually to create a really cool piece that I like to think of as my wall of fame. I put every single one of the 22 different pinups up on my wall in the same spots that they'd occupied last year.
And suddenly, just like that, I no longer have this intolerable sense of agitation every time I enter my room. I restored peace. I'm so much a creature of habit that just having my posters up in the exact same spots that I'm used to seeing them in transformed my room from hellhole to sanctuary.
I feel comfortable here again. I have my home back. It doesn't matter that I live in a fucking cardboard box of an apartment, or that I can no longer get morning coffee on my way to class. Suddenly all that matters in the entire world is that my room is mine again, and in here I can hide from the world and just be me.
Funny how just having stuff on the walls can create the illusion of familiarity in an unfamiliar, inferior place.
Peace. Finally.
I went on a cleaning binge.
To be perfectly honest, it wasn't even that thorough of a binge. I really just shoved most of the shit that covering my floor into the closet. Call it sweeping under the carpet if you may. Whatever it is, it worked. As soon as the floor cleared, some of my irritation started to lift.
But I took it one step further. I finally attacked the pile of posters that had occupied three feet of floor space for the last two weeks because I hadn't wanted to roll them up.
I put all my posters up, I put hooks up so that I could hang up my framed pictures, my clothes, my clock and keys. And hours later, I looked around to realize something: I'd put my posters up in almost the exact same configuration that they'd been in my old room. Especially the mural of celebs that I have over one wall. That mural consists of a set of about 22 separate magazine pinups all put together individually to create a really cool piece that I like to think of as my wall of fame. I put every single one of the 22 different pinups up on my wall in the same spots that they'd occupied last year.
And suddenly, just like that, I no longer have this intolerable sense of agitation every time I enter my room. I restored peace. I'm so much a creature of habit that just having my posters up in the exact same spots that I'm used to seeing them in transformed my room from hellhole to sanctuary.
I feel comfortable here again. I have my home back. It doesn't matter that I live in a fucking cardboard box of an apartment, or that I can no longer get morning coffee on my way to class. Suddenly all that matters in the entire world is that my room is mine again, and in here I can hide from the world and just be me.
Funny how just having stuff on the walls can create the illusion of familiarity in an unfamiliar, inferior place.
Peace. Finally.
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