an assignment entitled “my room madness,” because your room is a reflection of who you are. we had to document the important elements of our room and what they mean, along with a visual diary, so pictures of certain things and what they mean to us. here we go.
Out of all of the spaces in my home I think I actually spend the least amount of time in my own room, but at the same time I spend all of my important personal time there. If the walls could talk, they’d talk of tears and laughter and conversations with myself, and love and lust and fights, and the many hours I’ve spent writing in my journal. We’ve got a pretty close knit family, and a very welcoming home, so when I’m not chilling out with my besties (my parents) in the lounge, I’m outside with my friends smoking cigarettes, playing uno and drinking tea.
My room. It was my brother’s room for a while, I was in the one next to his. Then when I was in grade 1 my gran got sick and came to stay with us, so she took his room because it was close to my parent’s, and my brother took the back room on the other end of the house. So when my gran moved to an old age home my current room became a music room, storing my drumset, keyboard, guitars, and some other random things belonging to my mom. When my brother moved out 3 years ago we moved the instruments into his room, turning it back into the entertainment room it was prior to his inhabiting of it. Then I got my grans old room because it was bigger. Which leads to the colour choices of my walls. I wanted white walls, with one wall painted a different colour, if I remember correctly one of my uncles had some leftover red paint, so I decided red was as good a colour as any. I don’t have a favourite colour, I’m always telling people that if the rainbow was classified as a colour it would be my favourite one, so any colour was pretty cool with me. I chose the wall opposite to my windows because my room gets really nice early morning sunlight and the reflection of the light onto my red wall creates a really cool natural light.
Then we’ve got the placement of my bed. I’ve got built-in cupboards running right along one of my walls, with a mirror and dressing table shelf thing, and then another shelf-like thing which acted as a desk for studying which we pulled out to stick my bed in there, creating a lot more floor space, which I’d need for all of my clothes of course. Then above my bed there’s a little ledge where I keep my candles and incense sticks. When I am having some down time in my room I like the calmness these elements bring. Across the room from my bed is my bookshelf. Same bookshelf I had in my old room, same pastel green it was then, I just took it off the wall and moved it to the new room, I planned on attacking it with a permanent marker and all sorts of cool patterns but never really got around to it. My bookshelf is a really important element. Reading is one of my favourite past times, though I don’t do nearly enough of it. I’ve always loved reading and story telling, which I think played a part in my choice of studies. I love allowing my imagination to run wild and getting caught up in the lives of characters in books, staying with them through their ups and downs, and imagining where they are in their lives once the stories have ended.
Also on my bookshelf is a Pappa Smurf teddy bear that a friend gave to me when I was in hospital with meningitis 3 years ago, I treasure little things like that, which is why I have so many random things lying around in my room with no real place in my cupboard, so they end up chilling out on one of my shelves or pasted on my walls. I’m an extremely sentimental person who holds onto memories and feelings and moments in time. And I’m very relational about it, by that I mean I can literally have a score sheet from a putt-putt match or a wristband from a party, and by looking at it I’ll remember the entire experience. My dad calls me a hoarder but I don’t think my habit is unhealthy, yet…
I’ve got photographs ranging from my dads childhood to my own, to high school, to photobooth pictures from 21sts, to those sketch art pictures you can get in malls, pasted all over my mirror and surrounding it. I love pictures. Capturing moments in time.
Next to my bed is a bedside light, and a few novels I’m currently reading, and my journal. My journal is one of the things I value most in my life. I don’t do diary entries, but when things are tough or I have a lot to think about the easiest thing for me to do is to write a piece about it. That journal holds little pieces of my soul within its covers, it was a gift from my older cousins when I turned 16, and I’ve spent the last 4 years confiding in it every trouble or unsettling thought or sadness or philosophical idea I may have.
I feel very comfortable in my room, it is completely my own space. The majority of my things don’t have a specific place where they go, and my room is pretty much always messy, but I like to think of it as organised chaos. When I need time to myself I can close my door, light my candles and incense, put on some music and just float away, it’s a calming environment which balances out the intensity of things that happen in my brain. I love my room. And I think it’s a pretty good representation of who I am- someone who feels very deeply and gets lost in their own minds more often than not. Someone who cares deeply for those around her and who wants to keep them close, so she keeps pictures as reminders of the love in her life. Someone who holds onto everything, every memory and feeling and person she meets, someone who hoards the little boxes of the past on the shelves in her brain. Yep, my room is what my brain would look like if my body were a house.
… And here is the visual diary to prove it:
kimblesfreese 