My Old Bedroom
The following is a journal entry from January 31, 2008.
Today I started the renovation of my old bedroom.
It began with the pulling of a bunch of nails and drywall screws I had put into the walls of my room. One by one the nails were pulled and the screws rotated out, each time bringing back a memory of why they were placed there and for what purpose they served.
Two vertical lines of screws were used to hold a collection of wooden shelves I built out of scrap boards I found in my parents basement. Another screw held a clock that an artist created using old magazine clippings from the first lunar moon landing. Several other screws were scattered about that once held a telephone and other miscellaneous electronics to the wall. A large screw once held a fire extinguisher to the wall; the same fire extinguisher that, years later, would eventually save the house from burning to the ground. Literally.
After all the nails, screws, cup hooks, and fasteners were removed, I started to tape and spackle the walls and ceiling in an effort to erase and cover up the holes that were left behind. After a very busy childhood of perpetual wall-hanging habits came numerous holes that took years to create and only moments to fill.
I then had to remove about 100 glow-in-the-dark stars from the ceiling. From a very young age I had a fascination with stars and constellations. So much so that at age 12, I re-created the solar system (complete with 100 stars) on my ceiling. I even had glow-in-the-dark planets such as the sun, moon, earth, etc.
It dawned on me that this room that I occupied as a child from age 8 (when my parents and I moved out of New York City) until I was 23 (when I moved out) had essentially seen me grow up to become an adult. A little over a decade was spent in this room, which included grade, middle, and high school, then eventually a couple years of college.
In this room was where I spent most of my time, either by myself, or with friends. It was in this very room where I was given my first computer, my first stereo system, my first television, and my first time with a girl. It was a place where my best friend and I would hang out, listen to Pearl Jam and tried our best to start a business of sorts writing custom software and redesigning video games.
This was my room to do whatever I felt like doing, so long as it didn’t create too much noise. My parents used to punish me by sending me to my room, which was the lamest punishment they could have ever used against me because everything I owned was at my disposal in my room.
My room was a place where I had good times and bad times, but regardless of the feelings involved, it always felt like it would always be my room. Sadly, however, once I moved out, turned off the light, and shut the door to my room for the last time, the era of living under my parents roof had officially ended and the room became a spare bedroom for guests.
Next week I’ll be painting the ceiling, walls, and refinishing the floor. It’s sad to think that in the process, I will have to paint over my name, which I wrote on the wall in pencil back in 1988, and forgot all about until I peeled down a section of wallpaper.
All that’s left after the painting is to move out the last few remaining pieces of my past, which include a few high school yearbooks, a handful of anatomical models (I was pre-med in college, but changed majors several times), and my fire/rescue gear from my old job as a firefighter. I still have no idea where I’m going to put these things yet.
But anyway, once you renovate your old bedroom, it really is the end of an era. An era that exists in your mind as happening just yesterday, is now forever forgotten by the removal and covering-up of visual and physical cues to the memories tied to them.
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