Memory Lane is More Cluttered Than I Thought

I tend to do weird things at night. No, this post isn't going where you might think its going...for instance, after watching the Producers on Netflix, I decided that 2:48 a.m. was an excellent time to scrounge around my room looking for the periwinkle digital watch I owned my senior year of high school. I never wear watches (I HATE the feeling of things on my wrists, for some reason). The one exception to this is my Jurassic Park watch that I wore proudly until the stego came unglued in the watch face and now floats aimlessly in no-mans land, lorded over by gravity like a sad pair of googly eyes. I would still be wearing it today, I assure you.

But I digress. There are two things that people need to know about me and my room. This is the same room I've been in since I was a baby, and I never throw anything of even minor consequence away. Not like hoarder style amounts of stuff, but a decent amount of clutter. I'm sentimental like that. The problem with my sentimentality is that I'm also extremely lazy, and tend to forget about the stuff I've kept.

I knew where this particular watch was a couple years ago, so SURELY that's a good starting place, yeah? I wore the watch when I went (pardon the alliteration) to Japan in 2004. After the trip, I set it down on my set of bookshelves that holds no books (only things I've collected over the years), and that was that. The battery lasted a long time, and as of 2008 the alarm still went off for 1 minute, beeping every 5 seconds, at 1:00 p.m. (on it's time); mind you I never set the alarm, nor did I know how to shut it off, so this just goes to show how watches generally frighten and confuse me.

I started at this bookshelf and proceeded to dig my way through the knick-knacks and souvenirs here and there. Wading through these by-gone objects, I came across things I hadn't seen in years, or had forgotten existed completely. Pulling out the drawers from a little portable cabinet thingo, I came across pictures from jr. high and high school, and all the negatives carefully kept in the little photo pouch. A Magellan (you know, from Eureeka's Castle) foam stamp top, 2004 Destination Imagination GRF and State pins, video games for my Game Boy Advance, stickers, cards, newspaper clippings. A set of unopened Powerpuff Girls Halloween cards (who gives cards out on Halloween?)

One small jewelry box I had bought from Claires, probably when I was 11 or so, contained two Odyssey of the Mind rings, no less than 4 pesos (??), a "friends forever" ring thats counterpart probably went to a person I no longer keep in contact with (which is why the owner of the other one escapes my mind), a Walt Disney World token with Nala on it from 1995, and a Susan B. Anthony dollar.

I tried on my light up Disney princess crown, the one I bought in Downtown Disney with Margaret on our senior trip in 2005. I had no idea a little over a year later I'd be working in the area. Gleefully finding a telescope on the bottom shelf with my pirate stuff (I had a big pirate phase before it was cool *sticks nose up in air*), I looked through it and promptly gave myself a headache. The admissions bracelet to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, and a card from one of my best friends given to me on our last night as Disney College Program participants. Alas, the watch wasn't anywhere to be found.

Moving on to the nightstand that sits between my door and my closet thinking perhaps at some point in an attempt to clean I had moved it. Behind the tiger head lunchbox I got at Busch Gardens (also on the 2005 senior trip), my elephant bank, and my zen waterfall thingo that never works, I found boxes I had been storing away. Fun fact; in Japan, some chocolate candies come in little boxes that open up like a briefcase or lunchbox (sans clasp, they're not that fancy. It's just cardboard). I had gotten these from Chikako, my friend in high school, at some point and kept them. But why? Deterring from my watch mission, I decided to take a peek at them. Some still held contents (still wrapped individually...ewww though), a couple were empty. One held nothing but stickers.

The last, most spacious box (I think previously held chocolate covered graham crisp thingies that were in the shape of tree stumps), surprised me when I opened it. Notes from friends passed stealthily during class, a graduation card, even my first bank statement. And that's when it hit me; these are the things that define my life. Not in my actions or anything, but a trail of destruction and clutter that, when inspected carefully, are actually just pieces of my history. I was reminded of things that I hadn't thought about in literally years, but this is all part of who I am. It felt good.

I kept looking around my room, actually looking and observing the things I had placed here and there, and was just overtaken with memories: Pictures in cute frames from Okinawa, my Dewey's Pizza glasses (I have the whole set now!) from St. Louis, the Will Power bracelet showing support for my late cousin who at the time was battling cancer...all set in front of the many books I read and re-read over my formative years. The earrings I wore to prom set next to a photo taken of the night my senior year, and that was next to a shell covered jewelry box that belonged to my grandmother. The Jurassic Park watch, sitting dejectedly next to my action figures.

I started noticing the things on my walls, placed over the years; a pawprint from one of the wolves I helped to capture and sedate for a checkup at the Wild Canid Center (now the Wolf Sanctuary) near St. Louis when I was interning at the zoo. A wall hanging that belonged to Beth Carsmen, one of the coolest ladies that ever lived; Beth had traveled around the world and had such a spirit and passion for life, even up until the last days of her long life, that made such an impact on me.

Even the floor held memories; the carpeting in my room is a rust red (ya rly), so when I was little I liked to pretend it was lava at night. Monsters couldn't get into my room because they'd have to cross the lava and they'd burn up. I was jealous of my brother's room; they had a nice green carpet. I could pretend it was a field when I played with my barbies and other toys.

Alf keychains, old cameras, school pictures of friends hidden away in drawers. Silly knick-knacks, and even an old piece of concrete ticky-tacked to the side of a drawer (an in-joke with a friend that had given it to me saying it was a symbol of friendship and unity xD). The guitar that sits in the corner, only 3 chords learned, that made it to Florida with me but had to be rescued from an ex. Stupid, little insignificant things that just made me realize that there is so much more to my life, who I am, than necessarily what I recall now.

It's easy to breeze through life and look back down to where you've already been and think you know everything already about that place in time. It's easy to glaze over it all and define it in a sentence or two. "I was lonely in high school, and don't really remember doing much of anything anyway". Maybe. But maybe not so much, either. Thanks, room, for being kinda bad-ass.

I didn't find that watch, but I have come to two conclusions; pick up the guitar again and see if I can't actually learn something on it, and dust my room.