Good evening, splodgies!!
First up, an announcement! Today, its my dad's birthday! He's 57! So here's me and him on the way home from his birthday dinner:
OK! On to the actual post....topic!
On the list of topics I have for blog posts, today's post said "Posters". And I knew full well what I had intended by that when I wrote that bit of the list- but now I am choosing a different angle- because I have changed my mind, and I'm allowed to do that because this is my blog and nobody can stop me!
It was just going to be a post full of pictures of the posters I have on my walls- but I think that I can do better than that. On my walls, I currently have:
- A Dalek poster, from that WW2 episode of Doctor Who
- A poster of Exmoor, where I spent many a summer of my childhood
- A poster of Lisa Simpson proclaiming "Its my room and I can do what I want!"
- A rather majestic looking poster of a panther
- A poster of three of those green frogs with red eyes, blue legs and orange feet sat in a row
- Two different Adventure Time posters
- A Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit poster
- A poster of Gustav Klimt's The Tree of Life
- a souvenir poster from the jazz festival I went to
- I also have a photograph of my graduating class at university, but its not exactly a poster. I wanted to put it on this list anyway because its very special to me as lots of my friends are in the picture.
- Various other postcards/tickets/photos left that survived the purge of stuff on my walls.
I feel like all of these things say something about me in one way or another. Until recently most of two of my four walls were taken up by postcards I had got from my school library between the ages of something like 13 (when I first moved into my bedroom after having shared with my sister since we moved into this house) and about 17, when I finished school. I was surprised by the phenomenal amount of crap that I didn't care about was on the wall. And how difficult it was to get dried up blutac off the wall without ripping the wallpaper. In fact, I did rip the wallpaper several times. Now instead of a nice clean red wall, there appear to be lots of little white spots on there.
I also have a number of other posters that I chose to take off the wall, 2 Wicked posters, from the London show and the tour (where I worked for a short time), and a poster from the old children's TV series The Trap Door (which is hilarious, you should really look it up if you have time) and a cinema size poster from the film Never Let Me Go. But what I find interesting about what used to be on my wall (And I'm probably the only one who finds it interesting, because its my room and I see it everyday) is that I didn't really feel like the decor in my room was keeping up with the changes in my personality- of course I've not changed into a completely different person, hence why there are still some of the old things on the wall. Now the walls look a lot ...well, tidier; less frantic. Which I feel like my brain is these days- even though I still think and over think A LOT, I do this considerably less than I did as a teenager. But perhaps that is normal, who knows.
I really really like my room. I'll be sad to leave it again when the time comes. Sometimes I wish that I could just take my whole room to wherever I'm going to live next. Because I love all the things in here, I've definitely made it my own, with my origami birds, and my books, and my juggling balls, and my cupcake stand (which has only ever been used for mince pies), and my bed, and my mirror, and my cable car, and my globe, and my collection of small glass animals, and my tiger photos, and my collection of little owls, and my many ukuleles, and my mini drawers with jewellery in, and my lava lamp and my ΘΑΦ glass and candle, and my box of nostalgia, and my notebooks, and my CDs, and my hedgehog game, and my chest of drawers that I built myself when I was 17, and my lamp. and my lampshade, and my desk, and my old feta cube outfit from a Eurovision party, and of course, my posters. All these things make my room my own. I love it here. This is my haven, my inner sanctum. But I know I'm going to have to leave sooner or later- I can't stay here forever. I feel like a restless wanderer.
What about you? What makes your room your own? Maybe you collect something? Or you share your room with someone else? Let me know in the comments.
In other news, I successfully performed my monologue today, so here's a picture of me not long afterwards on my way home, holding the most expensive prop I ever bought:
Who would've thought a magazine that doesn't have one of those collectible model kit thingies would be almost a fiver?! Ridic.
See you tomorrow,
-Rosa
x
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