On Saturday, Mom and I are going to a flea market with my great aunt. So today we rummaged through an epic amount of attic junk to find some items to take. I also went through the stuff in my old bedroom and found some toys and things to bring along as well.
Once my sister got hitched and left the house, her bedroom was refurbished a bit and was turned into a guest room.
My room, however, is just how I left it 6 years ago, Star Wars posters and all. Not that it’s some sort of shrine to my greatness — it just became a “catch-all” for art projects I brought home from college, furniture from our living room (that is in the process of being remodeled), books from a shelf that was removed from the hallway, and just about any other miscellaneous items that I don’t have room for in my apartment.
So there was a lot of stuff to go through, and I barely scraped the surface.
I did find, however, some notebooks that I wrote in during my middle school/high school years. I know that artists are supposed to keep sketchbooks, but I always preferred to brainstorm more through writing than drawing.
I had a lot to say about McDonald’s, where I worked at that time. I wrote song lyrics about how I “spent all summer waking up before dawn, to work a shit-job that I had for too long” and was “sick of serving people grease-laden french fries.” I had little sketches about the “Corporate Man” bringing me down, with a giant restaurant monster stomping around munching on a fry box full of teenage employees. Or on one page I had a Chuck Taylor-clad leg dragging a Big Mac-shaped ball on a chain…
Most of this commentary was tongue-in-cheek. Honestly the job was a lot of fun. I worked with a lot of kids my age and got free food and uniforms.
I found this other journal that I kept for an eleventh-grade project on Transcendentalism. We were reading about Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau, who believed not necessarily in God, but in an a spirit greater than humans that could be found especially in nature instead of in man-made churches. Transcendentalists are supposed to “rise above” trivial Earthly problems and follow their intuition over church doctrines.
Anyway, I think one of the options for the assignment was to keep track of how I was being Transcendental and not worrying about little problems during about a 3-week period. So I wrote about music a lot, and how I listen to it when feeling upset or angry.
I also pondered some philosophical questions, such as how many people are involved in the development of a simple item like a pencil — from the lumberjack, to the shipping truck driver, to the packaging designer, to the clerk at the store register. And it’s cool because I still think about these things.
The last entry in this journal was “THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE.” I though it would be fun to share what my 17-year-old mind was thinking at the time:
1. Ride an elephant
2. Ride in a hot air balloon
3. Write one really wonderful song that I can be proud of
4. Have my own art show/installation in a museum (DONE – if you count my senior show in the CWRU art gallery)
5. See Greece, Rome, Japan, England, and ….Chicago?? (Nothing wrong with Chicago, but I think it’s funny that I have it listed with a bunch of foreign countries/cities )
6. Sell a piece of artwork (DONE)
7. Be in a band (Ha, there was STOP LAUGHING in college — the link goes to our MySpace page that was never taken down)
8. Visit the Louvre (DONE!!!)
9. Go to outer space (Not while I’m unemployed…)
10. Hold a raccoon (Boy, I was ambitious! )
11. Own a spatula (Again with the ambition…)
12. Go inside a pyramid
13. Fall in love (
I guess–*COUGH* Ryan.. edit 7/1/11)
14. Bowl a 300 (Umm….)
15. Invent something great
16. Own a novelty store
17. Own a record label
18. Serve soup in a fish bowl (I was in a “things aren’t as they seem” phase where I kept a pet fish in a coffee pot)
19. Just drive aimlessly (Done — a lot…)
20. Use a fire extinguisher (You think I would have done that by now. Might go buy one “just because.”)