Last week, I decided it was about time to put some pictures up on my walls. After all, I have been living in this room for about 7 or 8 months already and I haven’t made any attempt to make it my own.
Not having the money or attention span to go out and buy pictures or posters I instead decided to open an ancient chest of old bits and bobs that I have had hidden away in the darkest depths of my room (actually, I use it as a bedside table).
As the old chest creaked open, months old dust rising from it, I found myself wondering; what on Earth was in there? I had no recollection of any specific thing I had exiled into the chest and no idea what may have appeared from within. Waving my hand in front of me to clear the air, I peered into the dark, neglected chest and saw nothing exciting whatsoever… Just creased and dirty paper, half used pencils and a spider that would make Peter Parker himself recoil in fear.
Once a small, yet epic battle had occurred and it became apparent I would in fact have to work around this eight legged menace, I set to work pulling out all the old pieces of paper, trying to cause as little discomfort to the Spider as possible.
Rifling through them, I was delighted to find sketches and scratches from an age long past, a boy almost unrecognisable. Here, were line drawings of superheroes, anime girls and Star Wars characters. There was a portrait of my very first girlfriend right behind a kick ass picture of Samurai Jack.
All these, were drawing and sketches that I had done not so very long ago, and yet they had been almost forgotten until this moment. In me flashed a deep nostalgia, as I began to remember the boy I used to be, and I couldn’t help but feel gleefully childlike again.
Rooting a little bit deeper I found some super short stories I had written in Barcelona two years ago. These flash fictions were surreal and vividly colourful; a real tribute to the time I spent in Barcelona. They captured perfectly the half crazed and (quite honestly) alcohol induced haze that has settled over those months of my life. I started to pine for those steep, winding streets, for that almost nonsensical architecture and those insane inhabitants.
And then, after this, I came to what I like to call; The Seemingly Endless Age of Despair and Belated Teenage Angst.
Four abstract paintings rendered skillessly in watercolour. I remember this point in my life quite well because I didn’t enjoy it much. This was a time in which I would assemble my painting materials, sit and prepare to colour some comic-like masterpiece. And then, no sooner as the paintbrush had touched the page I would toss it aside in anger and frustration that nothing creative was occurring. Covering my hands in paint, I’d scratch and punch the paper not realising quite how melodramatic and ridiculous the whole thing was.
Well, this wasn’t a particularly dark time in my life, just a time I was being particularly foolish. Even so, it’s good to be reminded of it now that I can look at these and laugh. Truthfully, I’m just glad I didn’t attempt any poetry during that time. No doubt it would have been awful, the kind which would make poor William Pratt cringe.
There sure was a lot of crap I dug out of that chest, but it’s all on my wall now, displayed proudly. Not because I think any of it is artistically strong, but because each and every piece reminded me of myself at a different stage of my life. Some were sweet, some were cringe worthy, all were wonderful.
Coincidentally, today I received a message from WordPress reminding me that I’d been here for a year. That’s a year of blogging. A year since I left drama school.
It’s a funny and rare thing when one has a chance like this to reflect on who they once were, and by degrees, who they are now, and it should be cherished. Through these old discoveries I was sent on a sort of journey through my life. I didn’t really have any great epiphany on the way, and I didn’t learn any valuable lessons, it just made me smile. Simply and plainly.
If any of you have a secret chest of old crap hiding away, I highly recommend you fight off what ever monsters are safeguarding it and delve in. Go through all your old drawings or stories or diary entries or whatever it is you did back then. See if you remember being the kid that first put them there, and be happy to be the adult who took them out again.
See if you can go on a similar journey to me. It’s fun, you’ll enjoy it. It only takes 5 minutes and you can take a cup of tea with you.
I hope it makes you smile too.