Tomorrow morning, my house is undergoing surgery. At least, that's how I've been thinking of it--our abode has a disease, and people much smarter than us (we? correct me) are going to literally cut it out and make it good again.
Well, really, there's apparently a lot of moldnastiness growing in the wall that joins my bedroom to the bathroom. Guys with tools will be here at a(n?) hour that I would normally like to be waking up.
Anyways. Therefore, somehow all this means that my bedroom gets a new paint job and carpet. Yay me. I've spent a good part of the day deconstructing my room, bit by bit, and I have learned something about myself. I am a pack rat. Of memories, mostly. Pinned to my bulletin board were:
Well, really, there's apparently a lot of moldnastiness growing in the wall that joins my bedroom to the bathroom. Guys with tools will be here at a(n?) hour that I would normally like to be waking up.
Anyways. Therefore, somehow all this means that my bedroom gets a new paint job and carpet. Yay me. I've spent a good part of the day deconstructing my room, bit by bit, and I have learned something about myself. I am a pack rat. Of memories, mostly. Pinned to my bulletin board were:
- remnants of homecoming/prom corsages. I like dead flowers, apparently.
- tickets from operas, plays, and even movies I deemed important at the time (Pirates 3, Bourne Ultimatum, Spiderman, and so forth.)
- a collection of junk with my name on it. Call it narcicissim narcissism, but my "Antonia" (in case you didn't know), is difficult to find on bicycle license plates and gift-shop coffee mugs. So, I keep most things that bear my name: keychains, bracelets, even name tags from Student Leadership University (uh, 2005?) and Baylor orientation and Line Camp. You know too much, this is embarrassing.
- pictures: my sister when she was yet a tiny imp, New Mexico churches and sunsets, and high school dances and homecoming traditions. My favorite of the latter might be one of Joshua, Karon, and Taylor in full wacky-tacky apparel karate-chopping the air.
- Various fortune cookie fortunes that have meant something to me at some point. My favorite might be: "you create your own stage. The audience is waiting." It sounds a lot like something my dear friend and teacher Angela told me--about taking the stage, stepping into the spotlight and so forth, and fully committing to the character that I am supposed to play in this story. [She was my theater teacher, so I rolled with it :) ]
- Posters and other memorabilia from The Visitors, the play that Alia, Joshua, and I wrote, directed, and produced. For some reason, I feel the need to keep everything--I still have a full box of flyers. Not just one or two, but the whole box of 'em.
- I should also note that if you have written me a note or a birthday card in the last five years or so, I probably still have it. They remind me of how freakin blessed I am to have the friends and family that I have.
All of this probably points to an unhealthy need to hang onto things, which are, of course, mere things, and yet, I'm not throwing much away. First of all, I like the idea of opening a box of this stuff in 2, 5, or 10 years and remembering. Maybe by then, the name Antonia will be on more coffee mugs, I will have more theater tickets to add to the pile, and I will realize that Pirate of the Caribbean 3 was not all that.
Second of all, I think I'm just extra nostalgic considering that I will turn 20 in two days.
I realize that my lame bulletin-board trinkets aren't a clear indication of this, but it's incredible to think how much life I've lived in these 20 years: the places I've been, the people I've known, and the books I've read :). I have been given so much, and all I can utter is a feeble "thank you."
If I'm truly honest, though, I will note that this birthday comes with a bit more disappointment and fear than the rest. Growing up, the two-oh seemed so put together, so assured, ducks in a line and so forth. By two decades, the amazing 2.0 version of me was supposed to download or something, maybe like getting a second set of teeth after all my baby ones fell out.
That's it. My baby habits and faults were supposed to have fallen out by now, and stronger and better traits were supposed to grow in their place.
Well, that's not the case. Also, the analogy is corny.
I guess the fear is the quarter-life crisis issue. Where do I go from here? I know I just said that I've lived a lot, but did I do the most with what I had? I sympathize with Landon's mini freak-out when he turned 20, "It's like my whole life is a dollar, and I've spent a quarter already. I only have 75 cents left!!!"
A lot of these fretful emotions are tied up in one of my favorite songs ever (though it might apply more to a college grad):
Well, this has been an especially me-oriented blog, so I should probably stop before anything else happens.
House surgery tomorrow, birthday the day after that. :)
