Scenes From My Childhood Bedroom: 8

While I'm "crafty like ice is cold" -- thanks Beastie Boys -- I'm artistic like ice is dry. So finding some "artwork" in my room was funny.

This is a portion of a cut-out "B" from elementary school decorated with things that describe me. This was my favorite section, of course. And while I now know that "Tar Heels" is two words, I'm still not very good at drawing them.

I took an online course my senior year of high school called "Photography as Visual History." We studied the history of photography and different photographers, and it was actually really interesting. Unfortunately, there was also an artistic element to it, and not even photography, but more fine art. For this assignment we had to collage a theme and I chose friendship.

We were supposed to incorporate symbolism, repetition, texture, etc. To me it looks like exactly that: an assignment with all the boxes checked off. I've never understood how anyone can take an artistic class for a grade.

While writing this, I remembered another piece of "art" from this class that I still have.

We had to take a photo -- in this case an artistic rendering of Romeo and Juliet from a teen magazine -- and make a black and white copy and layer the two somehow. It's been 10 years but I still kind of like it.

Scenes From My Childhood Bedroom: 7

Ok, fine, I got a number of awards in my years of school. The important ones are still in a small Tupperware container in my closet because, considering how I practically killed myself to earn them, I just can't bear to throw them away.

But when I was cleaning out other papers I came across a folder of certificates. Now, call me snobby, but certificates just aren't as cool as a plaque or pin or trophy. They just aren't. But these two especially caught my eye because...they just aren't me.

My one and only attempt at organized sports: Playing basketball in the sixth grade.  I'm not sure why I even played it.  Maybe because growing up a tall girl in a basketball-obsessed state, I thought there might be something to all the people saying, "Wow, you're tall. You should play basketball."

Unfortunately, what they should have been saying was, "Wow, you're tall. But you have no athletic skill, coordination, or competitive spirit. You don't care if you win or lose or foul or travel. And you will travel. A lot."

We won one game, the last game, and I fouled my best friend, who was on an opposing team that also only won one game. It was fine and I didn't hate it, but I definitely had no desire to ever repeat the experience.

Having attempted and rejected any athletic competition, the remainder of my middle and high school yeas were devoted exclusively to academic endeavors. (Especially endeavors that could go on my college applications.)

My junior and senior years I competed in FBLA "events" and both years won at regionals and then went to states. I can't remember what I actually competed in, but I can assure you that it was NOT Financial Mathematics. When I came across this I couldn't stop laughing. It has my name on it but obviously they got the event very wrong.

I love the fact that I can post about awards for basketball and financial mathematics, and they both seem equally implausible and ridiculous.

Scenes From My Childhood Bedroom: 6

In this addition: Headwear

First, a hat that my mom glued rhinestones all over for Homecoming Spirit Week in the fourth grade.

Incidentally, a photo of me wearing this hat appeared in the school yearbook that year. (With an expression, if I recall correctly, that seemed to say, "Are you seriously taking a picture of me wearing this effing hat?")

And just for a fun, a (terrible) picture of me trying it on after re-discovering it.

Next is a visor from the going-away-to-college kit my Aunt Amee made me for my high school graduation. I was supposed to wear it when camping out for basketball tickets for her. (Unfortunately, students could only get tickets for students. And the only time I camped out for anything was, oddly enough, football tickets.)

This was me reading the visor at my graduation party. 10 years ago last week. Wow.

I didn't take a picture of the visor I wore on every family camping trip that was now covered in mold. Or the Carolina blue and white striped Dr. Seuss style hat that was so popular amongst my class in the 7th grade when we went to the State Fair. Oh, youth.

Scenes From My Childhood Bedroom: 5

When I was home earlier this month, my mom suggested I try and clear some stuff out of my old closet where I've been storing things. (Specifically, the notes and papers from high school and college taking up a large bin.) I got energized and decided to go through everything to trash, donate, or keep. I'm a sentimental pack rat-- remember the Fn key -- but it felt very good to clear out a good half of the closet. And find -- and yes, even trash or donate -- some old treasures. I'll start with t-shirts.

In high school, my best friend, Genie, claimed I had no t-shirts and dared me to find one and wear it to school. (And it "couldn't be from Abercrombie and Fitch or American Eagle," she said.) I was really particular about what I wore in high school and never wore anything too casual. I dress far more relaxed now, at my job, than I ever did back then. So her challenge was difficult. But I eventually wore my Napster t-shirt, which also doubled as a pajama shirt, thus proving to her I did at least have one t-shirt.

Fast forward four years and by the end of college I had 50 t-shirts related to UNC, activities, or travel. After my last move, I sent a bag of them home with mom because my drawers were overflowing. The whole closet clean-out process started because I was looking for the shirts to make a t-shirt quilt and in the process came across some other shirts from my younger days.

This was my t-shirt from baton. When you first joined you got a blue one, and then later, I can't remember how, you earned your way to wearing the red one. (This was the name of the baton group. It only occurs to me now what this probably sounds like to others.)

 
I bought this my senior year of high school from A&F because it reminded me of the Jim Carrey sketch on Saturday Night Live. (Please note the text at the bottom: "Rescuing hot bods daily." So offensive to me now.)

This shirt is from the fourth grade and still fits. (It's a large/extra-large and I wore it big, as was the style.)

 
I came downstairs wearing this to show Mom and we both immediately remembered everything we had bought that day. Mom splurged at Gap Kids with this shirt, a peach pair of shorts, a peach t-shirt, a denim button up shirt/vest thing, and a stretchy fabric headband that matched. (I also still have the headband.) I brought the shirt back to D.C. and plan on either sleeping in it or taking in the sides and wearing it. I love that Mom's splurge is still paying off 15 years later.

Scenes From My Childhood Bedroom: 4

Last one and it's the piece de resistance: The Barbies. Mind you, only a miniscule portion of The Barbies because I have many, many, many. (And yes, "have" in the present tense as they are all safely tucked away at home, waiting for...something.) These are all my collector ones, the vintage re-issues, and some others that have special meaning. They make me smile every time I go home because they were such an integral part of my childhood. And also, even now in adulthood, as I have nearly 20 Barbie ornaments and may or may not receive a "Barbie Collector" catalog in the mail.

(How I remember this I'll never know, but the bracelet around the beam in the center is from Ron Jon surf shop in Cocoa Beach, Florida, circa first or second grade. It's probably been in the same place since about that time, too. Creature of habit, I am.)

Scenes From My Childhood Bedroom: 3

I haven't had time to download and organize Chapel Hill/Christmas/Bday photos so until then I have a few more photos of my room at home.

Oh, high school. What can I say about it other than I don't miss one percent of it for one second. My 10 year reunion (holy crap) is this year and I'd rather pull out my eyelashes one by one than attend. But there are three vestiges of high school left out in my room. First, the (purple) marshall chords from junior year and the (gold) honor chords from senior year. The chords represent four years of unbelievable stress, mood swings, sleepless nights, crying fits, worry, and anxiety.

There's also the mirror that was a graduation gift from my friend, Diane. It has my name etched at the top and "Class of 2002" at the bottom with an image of a graduate in the center. It's perfect for makeup and hair checks on the way out.

And that's that for high school memories. And even those few items are too much high school for me.

Scenes From My Childhood Bedroom: 2

When we moved into our house the walls of my bedroom were, very aptly, Carolina blue. Some time in high school the parents decided we should paint my room. I wanted purple, like the apartment on "Friends," they wanted white. So we painted the walls white.* But as a compromise, they let me paint the doors of the clothes and linen closets purple. 10ish years later and they still make me smile.

*Except for the wall where there were two very large bookcases. Me and mom wanted to paint around the bookcases. Daddy wanted to move them out and paint the whole wall. As a compromise, we didn't paint it at all. Now that the bookcases are moved, the room has multiple white walls, one blue wall, and two purple doors.

Scenes From My Childhood Bedroom: 1

When I moved to D.C. four years ago, I pretty much turned my childhood bedroom over to my mom. I still have stuff in the closets and the dormers, and probably will until I have my own home, but for the most part it's not my room anymore and most of my stuff is gone. But there are a few things hanging around that are holdovers from my child and teen years.

For starters, this Tar Heel pennant that has been hanging just slightly off center above one of the dormers since before I started high school, so at least 15 years.

It's got a fine layer of dust on the top edge and, as mentioned, is off center, but I like that as much as the room has changed in 15 years, it hasn't moved.

Goodbye, summer

For Christmas one year in high school, my parents gave me a CD changer that held 51 CDs. This enabled me to control my music selection with a remote from anywhere in my room. And from the right angle, the bathroom, too. It was my personal jukebox in the pre-iPod days. There was a small binder with numbered slots to hold liner notes so you'd know which slot held which CD. As a rule, *NSYNC always took the top spots, soundtracks at the end.

The CD changer got the most use in the summer, when I could spend hours lying on my stomach on my purple plaid bedspread, with a small gray chenille pillow bunched up under my chin while I read a book, the cool air from the ceiling vent pouring over me. As a result there are a number of songs that, 10 or more years later, always make me think of air conditioning. There are certain songs that I swear make me instantly cooler, just by memory.

My interest in music started around the seventh grade. I used to think I wasn't allowed to say this because pretty much all the music I listen to can easily be found on MTV (when they played music) or in the Top 40 charts (when they were still printed in the paper.) But that doesn't bother me anymore. More obscure music is great but it doesn't mean it's automatically better. Plus, I just don't think you can easily judge the musical tastes of others because you don't know what a song means to them. Don't know where they are transported to with that opening riff or soothing chorus.

So here is my summer 2011 playlist. For better or worse, there are a number of songs that I won't be able to listen to without thinking of this summer. Of sticky hot days, of rainy days in the office, of long walks in DC, of air conditioning.

Summer 2011 Playlist
Animal - Neon Trees
Hair - Lady Gaga
Call it Off - Tegan and Sara
Answering Bell - Ryan Adams
Power - Kanye West
1000 Julys - Third Eye Blind
Turning Tables - Adele
Knock Down Walls - Tonic
Little Lion Man - Mumford and Sons
Rolling in the Deep - Adele
Constellations - Jack Johnson featuring Eddie Vedder
Try Sleeping with a Broken Heart - Samantha Ronson/Mark Ronson/Alicia Keys
Why I Love You - Jay Z and Kanye West
F**kin' Perfect - Pink
19th Nervous Breakdown - Rolling Stones

Blast from the past

Last week wore me down so that by Friday I felt like a zombie. But instead of going straight home from work, since napping would be inevitable, I went to Target for a little comfort shopping. One day I'd like to write about my comfort shopping habit, the different levels of it, and what mood necessitates what purchases. But not right now.

Pajama bottoms are one of my comfort items, though, and thus the cute polka dot shorts seen below. And while I generally just sleep in a Carolina T-shirt, when I stumbled across the shirt, it just had to be mine.

A triptych of a majorette. Or, more simply, a baton twirler. Why did this speak to me? Because for six years, from the ages of 5 to 11, I was a baton twirler.

Circa kindergarten, 1990

I had a lesson every week, parades maybe twice a month in the fall and winter, and a recital in the spring. There were cute costumes with lots of sequins that required shiny tights and a little makeup. For $2 we could get colored tape wound around our baton and for a few dollars more we bought little rubber end caps. Each week after practice we'd get fun pencils and scented stickers.

My sister did it for a few months at the beginning and my mom walked many a parade with me. (She was most definitely not a stage mother, but there were plenty of others that were. Plenty of others.) It was fun to dress up and I even enjoyed the performing.

Circa first grade, 1991

(Incidentally, this was taken shortly after I asked to have all my hair cut off, making this the first rash hair decision of my life. I don't know what emotional event occurred that caused me to do so. Someone stole my pencil box?)

Now, if you think I'm shy now, and you didn't know me as a child, imagine the shyness magnified times 100. But I don't remember any major meltdowns, and my childhood best friend was there all the way. It was just a fine time.

My one regret from this time was never mastering the throw it up, turn, and catch move. (No idea the actual name.) I managed it ONCE, my entire last year of twirling. At the awards ceremony at the end-of-year-recital, each girl did a little twirling on stage as a biographical snippet and list of skills was read. The goal was always to get so good that when you were called, you could do the throw it up, turn, and catch without worrying if you were going to drop it off the stage or throw it in the audience. This was never to be for me. I did, however, win the sportsmanship award out of the 100 other girls my last year. So, take that, bitches who can turn and catch!

Circa third grade, 1993

(Pretty sure I'm wearing more makeup here than I do now.)

Throughout high school I'd see the names of girls I'd twirled with from other schools in the paper, getting awards and such. Or I'd pass girls in the halls at my school that I twirled with but were no longer close to. It's odd now because I know plenty of girls who did ballet or dance or played sports, but I've never met another twirler.

It really was a good time. It was also before I was clumsy so for a short time I got to have a little rhythm and grace. Maybe if I had of stuck with it I would never have found my inner klutz. But that's doubtful. I'd likely have just been concussed or concussed someone else with the baton.

"Oh Christmas lights, keep shining on." (Coldplay)

Christmas ornaments are a big deal in my family. We have so many at home that my mom doesn't even hang them all up because it would take her all day and they probably wouldn't all fit on the tree. In addition to what we call "family" ornaments my siblings and I each have our own  set. Each one designated by our initial on the back marked by mom. And all stored in our own separate boxes, first cardboard and then increasingly larger Rubbermaid tubs.

I think it started that we would get two ornaments a year. One miscellaneous one and then one of whatever figure we collected. (Angels for Melissa, Santas for Joey, and snowmen for me.) But that two-a-year thing is long since out the window. There are just too many options and too many branches on the tree to fill. (Especially when Cracker Barrel has a 50% off sale on their already cheap decorations the day before Thanksgiving.)

Mine remained on the tree throughout college and then I took them when I moved to D.C. And now they grace my own tree. Though there are dozens and dozens of them they still don't come close to filling my tree so I've had to buy lots of "filler" ornaments that come in sets super cheap the day after Christmas. Aka, those which have no sentimental value.

It's the sentimental aspect that to me is the whole point. A Christmas ornament should express a sentiment. I can pick out any (non-filler) ornament on my tree and tell you approximately where it's from, who bought it, how old I was or what I was doing in my life, and what it means to me. But since I don't imagine anyone stopping by anytime soon to quiz me on Ornament History, I'll just feature a few here instead.

First, my tree:

One of about four "Baby's First Christmas" ornaments. She used to have a loose halo on her head I managed to keep up until just a few years ago. I'll try not to read too much into that.

One of my absolute favorites that I've had since I was 4, maybe longer. He might need a little surgery, though, as his forehead is peeling.

My mom gave me this in Kindergarten after I was in "The Nutcracker" at school. I was asked to be Clara out of all the little girls, but was too shy and was a dancing flower instead. I still stand by that decision. Not sure where his arm is.

Crafty birds from 1993.

Treasure chest.

One of about a dozen Barbies.

Since finding a tabletop Nativity after lots of searching, I've decided to collect Nativity ornaments.

Last year's White House ornament.

Love this one, though the sister and brother have ones that declare each of them the favorite, too.

Just a few of the many, many snow(wo)men. Made from a light bulb.

A sassy one.

Bringing the Tar Heel love, of course.

Another of the many UNC-related ones. She's from '99, making it one of the last UNC things I let someone buy me before I instituted my "no UNC apparel lest we jinx my future acceptance" rule.

I like to get an ornament from all my trips. Double decker bus from London.

Castanets from Spain and the Eiffel Tower from Paris:

But, of course, there's no place like home.
Center Street at Christmas in my hometown, a favorite sight of mine.

Just a few of my favorites. And I only knocked down six other ornaments in the process of photographing these. Not too shabby.

Peter's home!

I recently saw a new Folger's coffee Christmas commercial entitled "Coming Home." (I won't link to it here but it's on YouTube.) It's a (far inferior and fairly creepy) re-take of the popular 1980's Folger's commercial where Peter comes home for Christmas.



As far back as my memory goes, so goes this commercial. As a kid it wasn't Christmas until the commercial aired. I just loved it and would feel instant peace and joy the second it came on. I was probably the same age as the little girl when it first started airing and loved the idea of being on a secret mission with an older brother. Loved the sound of the grounds being scooped and the fresh-brewed goodness hitting the pot. Loved the way I could smell the aroma and feel the warmth through the television. Loved the excitement on his family's face.

But let's not forget Peter. Because, yes, I definitely had a crush on Peter. Tall, dark, handsome, and clearly preppy. I had a type even at five.

I don't know, maybe part of me knew, even then, that some day I'd be like Peter, coming home for Christmas every year.

Though without the sneaking in or coffee. Because it's kind of hard to sneak in when you don't drive and kind of hard to make coffee when you don't like it nor even know how to make it. But that's far less catchy of a commercial.

A Fancy Tradition

At the end of last week's Very Special Episode of Glee, Kurt went to church wearing this fabulous hat:

In between my Simon and Garfunkel tears, I couldn't help but admire his fancy church-lady hat. When I was little, and then slightly older, and then still older, I used to love to try on the fancy hats at JCPenney.  

Tucked away with the wallets and purses, the hats hung on a wall of soft-covered hooks, a rainbow of felt and lace. My eyes and my hands gravitated toward the red, hot pink, or purple chapeaus with flowers, beading, or rhinestones.

I love that in certain circles--particularly the African-American Community--there existed, and still exists, a tradition of wearing a hat to church. Selecting the perfect match for one's dress, shoes, and bag. 

Jeans and a sweater are enough for me 90% of the time, but one day I shall have a fancy hat and a place to wear it.

Images: My screen capture and TheMarginalized.

I really should be nicer to Russia

I'm trying to spend less money and buy fewer things because, well, I just don't need to spend so much money and buy so many things. They're just things. (As I keep telling myself over and over again.) But...sometimes I just can't control it.

It was so pretty this week which meant being outside more which meant longer walks around all the shops near work which meant trying not to buy things I don't need. Except, sometimes I do need nesting doll measuring cups from Paper Source.

Are they not the cutest thing ever? And they're functional, which is my favorite thing about cute things. It makes me want to cook...a little. I have a set of Russian nesting dolls my aunt gave me when I was little and I adore them. Every time I see something with nesting dolls on it, I want it! I bought a manicure kit decorated with them last month, and I've had my eye on a stamp and a t-shirt from an online store for awhile. I've said it many times before, when I like something, I am relentless in my obsessive love for it. At least this obsession will lead to me cooking more!

You're bound to lose control when the rubber band starts to jam

Joey and I used to love watching "Mr. Wizard's World" on Nickelodeon. Neither of us are big science people but I would say we are both curious about the way things work. And occasionally we would do some of the experiments ourselves. Like putting milk in a pan and adding food coloring to watch the designs it forms. (The only thing milk is good for, in my opinion.)

It's not an experiment and it's fairly mundane compared to most everything else on the show, but I'm fairly sure that Mr. Wizard is also where we got the idea for rubber band messages. We'd stretch out a rubber band on a ruler, write a message on it, and then when it was un-stretched we'd have a rubber band with tiny words on it. I'll still occasionally find myself doing this if I have a thick rubber band and some time; it amuses me. But even more amusing was one I found today that said:

"Have a good day! Hello! Joey! This is a rubber-band note!"

It's hardly Pulitzer-worthy writing, I'm aware. Not to mention the excessive exclamation points and unnecessary hyphenation. (Proof it is from me, however.) Now, I don't know for sure that this was written when we were kids, but it sure wasn't done any time recently. But the fact that it's with me after 14 moves and a good number of years, is quite a feat. It shows the enduring nature of the rubber band message.

Yes, I wish my message had of been a bit more exciting or prophetic, but the message endures nonetheless. And just think of the possibilities! Marriage proposals, dinner invites, apologies, advertisements, political platforms, revelations, innovations! The rubber band message knows no bounds. You truly were a man ahead of your time, Mr. Wizard.

10 Years

In 2000 I...

• Turned 16
  
• Was a sophomore in high school
  
• Lived at home with my parents, younger brother, and our dear dog Peanut (who died later that year)
  
• Dreamt of being a student at UNC
• Wanted to one day live in Paris or New York
  
• Was entering year 2.5 of braces
  
• Was not driving
  
• Thought I'd become a lawyer
  
• Wanted to be married by 25
  
• Loved NSYNC
• Had a core group of friends, and two really "best" friends
  
• Wanted to be an adult
  

In 2010 I...

• Turned 26
  
• Am approaching my 2 year anniversary at my current job
  
• Live in an apartment on Capitol Hill with a roommate
  
• Am a UNC alum!
• Have been to Paris, New York, and many other places, and lived in London
  
• Have straight teeth
  
• Still don't drive
  
• Want to go to grad school for...something
  
• Refuse to marry before 30 and even then...
  
• Still love NSYNC, and they will reunite one day, but my heart lies with U2 now
• Have a core group of friends, but from college. Still talk to the two high school "best" ones, though.
  
• Am not at all interested in this whole "adult" thing
  

2000
Part of a school portrait I had done with my best friend. Yes, it has been 10 years, but I'm still incredibly self-conscious about the teenage years so this is the best I'm willing to share, a photo of a photo, the only one from 2000 I have with me.


2010
Opening gifts on my 26th birthday. Thank goodness I grew out those bangs. Boobs stayed the same size, though.


Maybe pulling out the 2000 photo wasn't so bad. I'm still all kinds of awkward, but I had a Snickers bar tonite, something I couldn't do when I had braces. It's all ok in the end.