One of the most perplexing things about the beast is where it comes from. I will go mad OCD, place everything in it's correct order, and yet within 48 hours it will have degenerated to a battlefield of clothes and books. I've decided to go on a walkthrough of it, because even though it is particularly ferocious, I am quite fond of it.
In Photo 1, you can see some Pearls Before Swine comics that one of my more awesome friends sent me. I then posted them on my door so as to share the joy with my whole household.
There's so much going on in this photo that I don't know where to begin. The window corner also holds
all my music stuff, so on the odd day if you wondered into my room you'd see me hunched over the kaossilator, making off-time loops (unintentionally) and mumbling into a mic about some disgusting personal shortcoming.
moving on to Photo 2:
This photo was taken from the south-west corner (the above was the north west corner). It depicts my trusty (and by 'trusty' i mean: super wobbly but has yet to have collapsed) loft bed. Beneath it is my desk and the computer on which I am currently typing this. The desk is a magnet for a odd assortment essentially everything. Within arms reach of me there is: money, quite a few books, even more cd's, body wash, an apple, a bass, a camera, a bowl of 70% coco chocolate, a coupon to $50 off a flight with DELTA airlines, an undetermined amount of both Canadian and American currency, a set of watercolor paints, Nintendo Gameboy Advance SP (with Super Mario Bros. 3 in it of course), a keyboard/drum machine hybrid, variety of writing/sketching utensils, a very succinct goodbye note from a very dear friend, even more books, sunglasses, 2 library cards (neither of which are mine I believe), camera, cell phone, iPod, et al. And that's just the surface layer. Who knows what lies beneath the grime and paper.
This photo was taken from the south-east corner, the window and music corner. The dominant image is a microphone that is currently connected to my Kaossilator Pro, Virgil. One of the many features I love about Virgil is it's 15 vocal effects settings, taking all the skill out of singing and allowing me to sound like anyone from Daft Punk to Alice Glass to Imogen Heap. The only common vocal effect i have yet to find on it is Autotune, but theres too much of that already. This photo doesn't really display it as well as the next one, but you can see in the north w
est corner, my lovely shelving units. They contain a mix of books I read and loved when i was younger (Inkheart, The Hobbit, Lemony Snickets Series Of Unfortunate Events, Artemis Fowl) and books I have read more recently that I have enjoyed (The Orphaned Anythings, Trainspotting, Catch 22, Alice's Adventures In Wonderland). But the books I truly love are not on that shelf. They are either lent out to friends, or scattered around my room because I am in the middle of re-reading them/a friend returned it and it hasn't made it's way back to it's spot yet.
The west wall also has a collection of paper, including random concert stubs, an OCAD poster, paintings (both mine and friends), photobooth photos of old best friends I am no longer best friends with, doodles, an ex-girlfriends dream house sketch, a colouring book picture of Darth Vader (igniting his lightsabre), and some concert stubs and movie tickets.
All in all, I feel as though my room should be a set for a show about teenage life. There's so much going on, it's so evocative. I have some friends where their rooms are just places they sleep. Being in there is like being in a hotel. Everything is in order, nothing is personal.
It terrifies me. I don't see my room as a full expression of myself, I see it more as a small, small window into my mind. It shows a singular facet of my multi-dimensional being. So, when people's rooms are blank and impersonal, it makes me feel as though they too have a blank and impersonal side, and this concerns me.
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