In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Clean Slate.”
‘Explore the room you’re in as if you’re seeing it for the first time. Pretend you know nothing.’
This is pretty hard as I’m in my bedroom, where everything has meaning and sentimental value. Over the past 18 years I’ve collected a pretty impression amount of things – random, functional and decorative. Some would call it clutter, I call it character. Alongside the mountains of bracelets, heart-shaped fairy lights on one of my pint wall and posters next to my flowery wallpaper, are things that I’m proud of (although, my jewellery collection I am pretty proud of!)
My Trevi Fountain sits next to my bed on my desk, full of foreign coins to be used on my next adventure abroad. I got my fountain on my first trip to Italy when I went to Rome. I was only year 5 and just wanted to buy things to prove that I had been someone. Now, I like the too bright colours, the memories it holds, and the promise of return that it offers (I tossed several coins into the real fountain so I’ve got a few trips ahead of me). It sits next to a miniature version of the Colosseum and the Vatican that I picked up on the same trip – they’re a plain cream stone, and more ‘grown up’ but a little less interesting to me.
As well as my travels abroad my room is filled with my imagery and intellectual travels. Most of the surfaces in my room hold books. Most of my books are typical ‘teenager’ books – books about love and heartbreak, many of my most loved books are written by Sarah Dessen, she really does manage to capture the world of being young and struggling to understand this world. I’m proud of the small library I’ve amassed over the years. It’s spilled out of my cupboard, onto my desk (where my cloth bound ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ and George Orwell collection sit on full display) and onto my floor (my university reading pile that I’m neglecting in favour of Sarah Dessen and John Green books (it’s been a long time since I haven’t had to analyse novels for deeper meanings, so I’m easing myself back into the world of reading for joy with something easy and age appropriate, although, I do plan to finally finish my Orwell collection before September). I worry about how I’ll take all of my clothes to university, but I would trade all of my clothes for my books any day.
My CD collection doesn’t take over my room like my books do, but they’re no less loved. Organised neatly in the top draw of my desk my CDs are in easy reach whenever I need music to sing along to, block out the world or just swell around me, make me feel something ineffable.
I love my MP3 players (I have too much music and constantly have to take albums off in order to put new ones onto one of my MP3 players). I love being able to take music with me, but I love hearing the full sound of my CDs, in the same way I love records with their imperfections. I’ve never downloaded music and I doubt I ever will, I love having something physical, I love being able to look through the little leaflet things and study the lyrics and who wrote what.
I have a strange love for bird cages – some might say that it’s something to do with feeling trapped or a desire to contain my life because I feel like I have no control, but as far as I’m aware I just like the way they look. One of these bird cages sits on my desk and contains my impressive perfume collection. Chanel, Chloe, DKNY, Benefit and Dolce & Gabbana are contained in the birdcage. I normally end up running late so grab whatever is on top, but sometimes I actually manage to get ready on time and select something that suits my mood. I love my perfume, and it’s a little part of my mum in my room – my mum’s collection is REALLY impressive – and it’s something that I can easily take to uni with me to remind myself of home – especially as most of the perfumes are ones I’ve ‘borrowed’ from my mum.