UNTANGLED MEMORIES

See the little titmouse,
lost and bewildered in the room

From "The Hand" by Rainer Maria Rilke

When I was in the 10th grade, my sister and I befriended two sisters who attended our small, riff-raffy private school in Amarillo. Their names were Jennifer and Jessica and they lived on about 100 acres north of town. Their house was nearly magical. I remember the first night I spent there--we listened to a lot of Enya, read some books to each other, and then looked at the stars on the roof. (Now that I think about it, it sounds pretty romantic, doesn't it?) This house had many rooms, each one with either hardwood floors or tattered carpet, some rooms with stiff curtains, and several old sofas and chairs marred by years of napping dogs. The large kitchen had wooden floors and wooden countertops, cupboards with faded paint, and a table in the center of the room. I remember getting a tasty meal of salmon, pasta and veggies there that first evening, sharing the dining area with 5 tangled and matted dogs. The top floor, where the girls shared a room, was one big space that even contained a small bathroom with a strange little shower. This room had its own door leading outside with a stairway down to the briar-filled yard. I loved the window leading precariously out to the roof. I loved the warm lamp lightjuxtaposed against the isolated darkness outside. I loved the huge bird cage full of a type of bird I can't recall, and I even loved that they were particularly obnoxious at 6 AM. But the real reason I loved this wonderful house was that it was totally and completely overrun with clutter. Stacks of books all over the place, piles of papers covering tables and desks, knick knacks in random places, unused exercise equipment gathering dust in sunny alcoves, mismatched fabric wadded up in baskets, bags and bags of pet food, and really just anything and everything you could imagine stuffed into this one building. It was absolutely fantastic.

I know that my current dwelling habits can't reach the glorious state of things at Jennifer and Jessica's house. But perhaps this story is a fitting intro to the pictures I took today. It's been a long time since I took photos inside my house (it really does get quite boring) so I hope these are interesting. When you see smudges, dirty carpet, piles of clothes, and a veil of dust on top of everything, please remember the story of Jennifer and Jessica's house and see the beauty in my mayhem!


Here you see where I throw my clothes. You can also spot my bag I took on my recent trip to Pine Cove. Also my crates full of 1) CD cases belonging to CDs I no longer own or listen to and 2) magazines I only looked at once or can't read because they're in another language. Can you spot the XBox console?


My mother has had this piece of furniture since I was a kid and I have always, ALWAYS loved it. Last year it became mine. Yes the veneer is crumbling away and yes it looks absolutely filthy (seriously, it looks like greasy-handed kids are continually pawing at the top drawer) but I still love it. I hope to one day have the finish completely restored (as you can see, it has no lacquer coating). I use it to store my underwear, jewelry, pajamas, bathroom products I've no space for in the bathroom, and a small collection of DVDs/VHS and a bunch of CDs I don't listen to and should really just throw away.


I really like Harry Potter and movie 3, Prisoner of Azkaban, is the best one so far. Do not believe the garbage about Goblet of Fire!


This is my closet. I've spruced it up with some artwork (inside) as well as photos (on the door) from a Thievery Corporation CD booklet. I hardly ever use this closet and the reason is because you practically have to crawl into it to use it. Since I don't like crawling into spaces, I avoid this closet as much as possible. It's a real shame when you consider this is the first "real" closet I've ever had. Ever.




Here's a glimpse of my bookshelf. It's not very big and it doesn't hold all of my books. But the ones it does hold I have arranged by color and then crammed in a bunch of knick knacks I have no other home for. I really, really love knick knacks.


No, really--I really, really love knick knacks.


Related to knick knacks, there is my undying love for containers. I believe every type of object should have a special place and that includes remotes, hair clips, pens and pencils, bookmarks, loose buttons, and craft supplies. Don't just throw your things into a shoebox! Put them into a carved box or an interesting jar. This makes opening a drawer, or a cabinet, or a closet door a bit more than a mundane experience.


I also really love thrift store art. You can't see it very well but this picture hanging above the ridiculously small magnet board is from a thrift store. I got one of the inside-closet pictures from the same thrift store, some hole in the wall place in north Dallas back when I first moved here. I found the pair for the inside-closet one later on at Hobby Lobby (I was ecstatic!). Also I like random pictures (that's my Jessica Mosely next to the chicken man and a tiny me with the short blonde haircut), clips from things (a copy of my friend Kristy's painting of downtown Waco), and notes scribbled by dear old coworkers. I don't keep everything, of course. What I do keep, as far as sentimental random things are concerned, are all stored in an old hatbox I've had since I was 15.


Another incredible example of thrift store art. I found this at a Goodwill in a slummy part of Dallas. I'm not sure what the artist used to fill it in--crayon, perhaps? Maybe pastels? I don't really care what they used, I think it's brilliant. If you're wondering about the cute creature I use to hold my radio antenna, it's the matryoshka doll I got in Russia. I was browsing the overpriced tourist-trap booths in Saint-Petersburg when I found this gem amongst matryoshkas that looked like Homer Simpson and Bill Clinton. Which one would you choose? I wasn't about to leave Russia without this little guy.



This is my piano in a dark corner of our game room. Right now there are boxes that obstruct most of the pathway to the piano but I do play it when I think to (as you can see from the open book, which is some Satie I got out last week). The gold heads are ceramic and I have no idea who made them. The beauts cost me $5 for the pair at one of the five garage sales I've been to since moving here 6 years ago. After owning these for so long, I am content with their current use. It's taken awhile to figure out what to do with them (if I had my own fireplace, one would go on each side).


This book was sitting on the piano but I've now moved it to a more accessible location (right next to me). This is my absolute favorite collection of Rilke poems. Amarillo has an amazing downtown library and I once found a rare collection of Rilke poems translated by J.B. Leishman. I repeatedly checked the book out for about a year and a half before we moved and I still wish I had taken it with me (yet as I type this I realize I am too honest to steal a rare book from a public library). After looking for the book online, I discovered it is 1) out of print and 2) has a price range of $50-$250. I've not seen it online in years and thus I lost hope. That is until my broccoli-breath boyfriend bought me this book, which is not the Leishman translation but most of the same rare poems. Giving me this book was the best thing that guy ever did for me. You can't see it, but nearly every page is dog-earred from what started as an attempt to mark the poems I especially liked. I guess I like them all.


This is a perfect example of how one man's clutter is another man's treasure. Somehow this motley arrangement of objects has a nice quality to it and I think it makes a nice picture. This photo is from the left side of the desk I am sitting at right this second.


The other side of the desk is a different story. Here one finds a wireless router, a cable modem, a pink pencil, a piece of paper with a user name and password on it, some installation CDs, digital camera cables, a trackball, a computer speaker, oh, and my sister's childhood bank that is now heartbreakingly missing an eye. The only reason this bank is sitting on the desk is because I was trying to remind Lindsey to take it to her house. My ideas always work! That bank has only been sitting here for about a week.


After all the dust, the crumbs, the sticky spots where things have spilled, the greasy fingerprints, and the piles and piles and piles of junk, maybe you need some fresh air. This is one of the street corners in my lovely neighborhood and I nearly always have to turn at this corner to get home. I'm so glad the trees are changing colors this year! I'm so glad I'm surrounded by such marvelous places and things.