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Saturday, October 14, 2006
Cleaning out my closet
Well, not really my closet, but my desk drawers and bookshelfs. If there's one habit I have when I clean up my junk, it's that I shove crap down dark corners and then pretend they don't exist anymore. Until they threaten to spill over, anyway. So that's how I ended up cleaning and clearing out all the junk I've hidden over the years (some dating back to when I was nine) over the last few days. Among some of the things that I found were:
Stickers - of cutesy little forest creatures, slowly progressing to pop idols (I guess that was when I grew older - God knows why I even kept them!). I even found some holographic stickers (woah! remember how those used to be all the rage?) of the Ghostbusters tucked away somewhere.
Sketch pads - I used to draw a lot of anime-ish stuff - was how I got drawn (pardon the pun) into a design career.
Half-written books - I wrote a lot of crappy Sweet Valley High-ish (hahahahaha, remember those books?) stories when I was younger, but I don't remember ever finishing any.
Letters from pen-pals and friends who moved away when I was young.
A lot of birthday cards (which I guess I never bothered throwing away either - again, God knows why).
Colours pencils, pens and other drawing materials that I cherished so much - so much, in fact, that I couldn't bear to use them. Some of them are still in their packaging.
My collection of keychains. One of them was the types that had water sealed into it. Amazingly, there is STILL some water left in that thing.
Autobiography books - you know, the kind that kids passed around to their friends so they could draw and write a bit about themselves in it?
Some other weird projects that I indulged in with friends.
I smiled at the memory of some of these items. Read some. Cringed at some. Others made me wonder what the fuck did I think I was doing at that point in my life.
And then I put away the keychains, and the drawing materials - and I threw the rest away.
A tiny voice asked if I wasn't being too cruel to throw the remnants of my childhood away like that. And a wave of sadness washed over me. All those well wishes and "let's be friends forever!" - wouldn't it be nice to keep them, to remind me of what my childhood was like?
But there they remained, sitting in the trash. To be honest, the way things had gone over the years, I was surprised at how many cards and letters I've kept. I suppose it's a good enough thing that I can laugh and not feel bitter when I read them. Friends forever indeed. At least I've gotten over it.
However, there were three things that I was simply too weak to throw away - diaries I've kept over the years, one of which was a joint effort with friends (who might kill me if they ask for it one day and find out that I've burned it. It's their memories too, after all). Ironically, these were the very items that I sweared that I'd burn all this time. Part of the reason why I kept them was because my mom has a habit of going through my trash, and picking out items that she was SURE that I wanted to keep - even though it's obviously in the bin because I wanted to THROW IT AWAY - and I'm paranoid that she'll read it. Actually, considering how careless I was about these books, she might already have, and discovered the barrage of hatred I wrote about her in it. Which in that case, the only thing I have to say is PFFFT, that's what you get for reading things you're not supposed to in the first place. So I want to personally burn these books, instead of just throwing it away.
The other part of the reason was that I somehow got drawn into reading my diaries again - reading about what it was like to be me years ago. I had written them sporadically till my second year or so in college, apparently. It certainly feels odd, as though I'm reading someone else's diary, because I no longer recognize myself. The way I felt at certain events and people were just....surprising. Did I really feel that way? Did I really do those things?
But then I ask myself - is it worth knowing all that? Is there a point? Without my past, I feel free to create the future, no strings attached. But the past has made me into what I am today - without it I am nothing.
So here I am, staring at the physical remains of my childhood in the trash, unsure of whether this is going to be something that I might regret doing later on in life.
Stickers - of cutesy little forest creatures, slowly progressing to pop idols (I guess that was when I grew older - God knows why I even kept them!). I even found some holographic stickers (woah! remember how those used to be all the rage?) of the Ghostbusters tucked away somewhere.
Sketch pads - I used to draw a lot of anime-ish stuff - was how I got drawn (pardon the pun) into a design career.
Half-written books - I wrote a lot of crappy Sweet Valley High-ish (hahahahaha, remember those books?) stories when I was younger, but I don't remember ever finishing any.
Letters from pen-pals and friends who moved away when I was young.
A lot of birthday cards (which I guess I never bothered throwing away either - again, God knows why).
Colours pencils, pens and other drawing materials that I cherished so much - so much, in fact, that I couldn't bear to use them. Some of them are still in their packaging.
My collection of keychains. One of them was the types that had water sealed into it. Amazingly, there is STILL some water left in that thing.
Autobiography books - you know, the kind that kids passed around to their friends so they could draw and write a bit about themselves in it?
Some other weird projects that I indulged in with friends.
I smiled at the memory of some of these items. Read some. Cringed at some. Others made me wonder what the fuck did I think I was doing at that point in my life.
And then I put away the keychains, and the drawing materials - and I threw the rest away.
A tiny voice asked if I wasn't being too cruel to throw the remnants of my childhood away like that. And a wave of sadness washed over me. All those well wishes and "let's be friends forever!" - wouldn't it be nice to keep them, to remind me of what my childhood was like?
But there they remained, sitting in the trash. To be honest, the way things had gone over the years, I was surprised at how many cards and letters I've kept. I suppose it's a good enough thing that I can laugh and not feel bitter when I read them. Friends forever indeed. At least I've gotten over it.
However, there were three things that I was simply too weak to throw away - diaries I've kept over the years, one of which was a joint effort with friends (who might kill me if they ask for it one day and find out that I've burned it. It's their memories too, after all). Ironically, these were the very items that I sweared that I'd burn all this time. Part of the reason why I kept them was because my mom has a habit of going through my trash, and picking out items that she was SURE that I wanted to keep - even though it's obviously in the bin because I wanted to THROW IT AWAY - and I'm paranoid that she'll read it. Actually, considering how careless I was about these books, she might already have, and discovered the barrage of hatred I wrote about her in it. Which in that case, the only thing I have to say is PFFFT, that's what you get for reading things you're not supposed to in the first place. So I want to personally burn these books, instead of just throwing it away.
The other part of the reason was that I somehow got drawn into reading my diaries again - reading about what it was like to be me years ago. I had written them sporadically till my second year or so in college, apparently. It certainly feels odd, as though I'm reading someone else's diary, because I no longer recognize myself. The way I felt at certain events and people were just....surprising. Did I really feel that way? Did I really do those things?
But then I ask myself - is it worth knowing all that? Is there a point? Without my past, I feel free to create the future, no strings attached. But the past has made me into what I am today - without it I am nothing.
So here I am, staring at the physical remains of my childhood in the trash, unsure of whether this is going to be something that I might regret doing later on in life.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Cinema antics
Significant Other and I are at the cinema, waiting in line to buy tickets for The Devil Wears Prada.
"Pstt," he whispers in my ear, "that girl who just walked past us wasn't wearing a bra."
My head perks up. "Where? Where?"
"Err, she's gone."
"Awww," I pout. "Why can't you tell me about these things any earlier?"
Significant Other rolls his eyes. "What would you like me to do, yell out 'look there, woman with jiggly tits!' in front of her face? What am I supposed to do if she glares at me?"
"Hmm," I think about it for awhile. Then I stuck out both my hands in front of me, two thumbs up, with a "WOOT! YOU GO GIRL!!!" expression on my face.
Significant Other gives me The Look. You know, the one that says "you're crazy"? That's right before he said the obvious. "You're crazy." Followed by, "You might as well just do like the crazy Japanese, then, and walk up to her, give her a hug and say 'take photo take photo'."
"Hmm, you know what? I WILL SO DO THAT."
"Pstt," he whispers in my ear, "that girl who just walked past us wasn't wearing a bra."
My head perks up. "Where? Where?"
"Err, she's gone."
"Awww," I pout. "Why can't you tell me about these things any earlier?"
Significant Other rolls his eyes. "What would you like me to do, yell out 'look there, woman with jiggly tits!' in front of her face? What am I supposed to do if she glares at me?"
"Hmm," I think about it for awhile. Then I stuck out both my hands in front of me, two thumbs up, with a "WOOT! YOU GO GIRL!!!" expression on my face.
Significant Other gives me The Look. You know, the one that says "you're crazy"? That's right before he said the obvious. "You're crazy." Followed by, "You might as well just do like the crazy Japanese, then, and walk up to her, give her a hug and say 'take photo take photo'."
"Hmm, you know what? I WILL SO DO THAT."