For as long as I can remember, I've loved to read. To me, there's something magical about words on a page having the ability to create and tell a story. I distinctly remember poring through The Boxcar Children, each Magic Tree House book, and the A to Z Mysteries series, to name a few, in addition to anything and everything by Judy Blume, as a child. Those who know me can validate this fact to this day, as I'm always eager to start and finish a new book and discuss its contents and the story being told. While through books, articles, essays, and more, it is evident that words have the simple ability to tell a powerful story, images and photos, in a different yet equally impactful way, are able to tell personal stories and give you credible insight into a person's life as well.
Recently, I felt the rare urge to clean my room. If I'm being honest, this is a task that hasn't been done in quite awhile. I would not classify myself as an unorganized person, but rather am proud to call myself an early-staged hoarder; the truth is, my room is not "messy," per se, but it is definitely home to lots and lots of clutter. In my opinion, as long as I know where everything is, and I can get to whatever I need to easily and efficiently, I'm fine with having some clutter (key word: some). The word "clutter" presumably has a negative connotation, but as I plunged deep into the depths of my childhood homework assignments, decades-old stuffed animals, and clothes-filled closet (I still have some baby clothes and may or may not have tried them on recently - please ask me how that went), I started to realize how important objects are and especially how critical they are in telling a story about a person's life. Finding an old essay written about myself and two siblings in third grade (titled, The Two Pains and The Perfect One; I urge you to ask me what category I fell under), an old diary from middle school, a heart shaped rock I picked up while hiking in the state of Washington years ago, a Nalgene filled with Canadian lake water (don't ask), and the congratulatory packet I received upon getting into Vanderbilt, among many other objects, I was amazed at how much one would be able to know and tell about me just based on the objects I've kept in my room since childhood. So, in my opinion, there are many perks to being a hoarder, however, I completely understand that hoarding can get out of control if you take it too far.
Upon going through the piles and mountains of stored items in my possession, I started equating objects to words and images, as they are equally important in telling one's own story. I tried to think which objects in my room could effectively describe who I was as a person, and all I've come up with so far is books, gym shoes (I like to run), pictures of friends and family, maybe some souvenirs from past trips and journeys, and that's the farthest I've gotten. If you could tell your own story, using five objects, which would you choose?
One day, you may want to look back at old artifacts and marvel at the person you used to be and who you've become. I should really "clean" my room more often.
