Most people, when asked about their childhood home, will most likely talk about fanciful homes of grandeur and of a loving nature. My own is not like this, yes it was a house, a single level ranch style home with a large bay window that let the sun in as it sets in the evening. Though to most it would seem lovely and an inviting place, I much preferred to be left alone, by my family and the rest of the world. I would always travel through the kitchen, into the laundry room and pull open the warped door out into the very weather unfriendly garage attached to the side of the home. I would then turn to the wall next to the door and descend a flight of steel tipped concrete stairs, leading down at near a 75 degree angle like a cliff into the dark abyss. This would be my sanctuary, and though it changed greatly over the years it was still mine.
When it first started out it was nothing more then molded walls and small pools of water with shattered tiles and nails all across the floor. There was no real lighting save for the lamps I brought down, and the old dusted shelves in the adjacent room were coated in dust and web. All of this visible through a wall that had quite literally rotted into the floor. A single pillar in the center of the room manages to hold the heating ducts up from the floor and looked as if it was the only thing keeping the floor above from coming down.
Off to the side of the room was an old pool table who's matted playing area and worn pockets made the game a little more entertaining when I needed a distraction. This brings to mind the old cracked pool balls that I used to play with. Whenever my little sister got brave enough to come into the bomb shelter, as I jokingly called it way back when, we would usually just talk or toss chips of old broken tiles across the room.
One Christmas that all changed, and while me and my sister were gone at our Grandpa's for several weeks my mother and father were busy hiring contractors, painters and designers. On Christmas when we returned we had come to see a surprise, my sanctuary had been drastically changed. A new ceiling was now in place with lights that lit the room up spectacularly. The floor was now a single color tile and spanned the entire room. The walls separating the two rooms from each other suddenly had a fresh coat of paint and a reinforced structure to go with the new basement. The pool table whose cracks and old finish had been revamped with new carpeting and pockets and even a stamp on the end of it declaring it as our own.
While the rest of the family celebrated the new entertainment room I became worried that I had lost my hideaway from the world, that I would find no peace anymore within the darkness. I had no need to fear, for today while I wait to find my own home, in and of itself my hideaway, I am alone. The basement with all its fresh paint, lights, mirrors, sofa, chairs, tables, TVs, Pianos, the pool table, and weight bench is all mine once more. No one comes down into it anymore and I am alone, save for the knock of my sister at the door once in a years time. I sit down here and work, writing and designing, planning and building for my future in my own way, away from all the distractions that hunger for other's attentions. I sit here in my sanctuary able to be free of mind and spirit and not have to worry about the thoughts and deeds of others. This is my childhood home.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
My Home as a child
I remember my families first home very vividly because I had lived there from the time I was born until my eighth grade year. My house had tan colored siding with maroon trim and shutters. It wasn't a big house but it wasn't small either. I can remember my parents both being very proud of that house because they bought a ran down house and fixed it up into a nice home. I think that they felt like they had accomplished something because my parents were of a very young age when they had my sisters and I. For them to be able to buy a house and fix it up really nice was really something because they were around my age when they did all of this.
The inside of the house was decorated very nicely. I remember that our kitchen had hard wood floors, the walls were tan and bordered by country apples. The kitchen cabinets matched the floor almost exact. Everything in our kitchen was done in country scenes and apples. I think this was kind of a fad a few years back. I had my own room. It wasn't big, but I liked the idea of getting away from my younger sisters. The two of them shared a much larger room.
Our house was located on the out skirts of Indianapolis in a small, but crowded neighborhood. We had neighbors all around us. Ones behind us, in front of us, and on both sides of us. My favorite neighbor was Ed. He was an older man and had two big dogs that I liked to play with . I loved playing with his dogs because I had always wanted one of my own, but my parents wouldn't ever let me get one. I remember that Ed used to always bring my sisters and I box turtles and frogs. I have no idea why this amused us, but it did. The funniest memory that I have about playing with the turtles is when my younger sister, Brittany, kissed it and it bit her top lip. She was screaming and the turtle wouldn't let go of her lip. When it did finally fall off she had a triangular shaped mark on her top lip.
I loved living in a neighborhood because I always had other kids to play with. I used to go play baseball or whatever kind of game we wanted to with some of the neighborhood kids that were around my age at the time. Most of them were boys, but it was still a good time. I used to go on bike rides through my neighbor hood and I remember learning to ride my bike at the elementary school nearby.
When my parents told me that we were moving to the country I was devastated. I loved living in the city. I was a total city girl and now I was being forced to live out in the boonies. When we first moved out this way I absolutely hated it because I missed everything about out old house. My friends, my school, and most of all our house. Now that I have lived in the country for five years I don't think I could ever live in a city again. Its weird to me that I went from hating the country to absolutely loving it.
The inside of the house was decorated very nicely. I remember that our kitchen had hard wood floors, the walls were tan and bordered by country apples. The kitchen cabinets matched the floor almost exact. Everything in our kitchen was done in country scenes and apples. I think this was kind of a fad a few years back. I had my own room. It wasn't big, but I liked the idea of getting away from my younger sisters. The two of them shared a much larger room.
Our house was located on the out skirts of Indianapolis in a small, but crowded neighborhood. We had neighbors all around us. Ones behind us, in front of us, and on both sides of us. My favorite neighbor was Ed. He was an older man and had two big dogs that I liked to play with . I loved playing with his dogs because I had always wanted one of my own, but my parents wouldn't ever let me get one. I remember that Ed used to always bring my sisters and I box turtles and frogs. I have no idea why this amused us, but it did. The funniest memory that I have about playing with the turtles is when my younger sister, Brittany, kissed it and it bit her top lip. She was screaming and the turtle wouldn't let go of her lip. When it did finally fall off she had a triangular shaped mark on her top lip.
I loved living in a neighborhood because I always had other kids to play with. I used to go play baseball or whatever kind of game we wanted to with some of the neighborhood kids that were around my age at the time. Most of them were boys, but it was still a good time. I used to go on bike rides through my neighbor hood and I remember learning to ride my bike at the elementary school nearby.
When my parents told me that we were moving to the country I was devastated. I loved living in the city. I was a total city girl and now I was being forced to live out in the boonies. When we first moved out this way I absolutely hated it because I missed everything about out old house. My friends, my school, and most of all our house. Now that I have lived in the country for five years I don't think I could ever live in a city again. Its weird to me that I went from hating the country to absolutely loving it.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Roy Hoffman Essay
There have been a couple of times that I have almost bought a journal to carry in my bag or purse in case there was that one time that I would need it. However, when I look at them I always think to myself the last thing I need is something else to put in my purse, so I put the journal back on the shelf and force myself to walk away. Honestly, the only reason I really want the journal is because I think it is cute, which I know is a very “typical girl” response.
I never have been one to keep a journal. I am not religious at making entries and sometimes it is a month before I write in it again. Then I have so much to put down on paper that I feel I can’t get it written down fast enough, or after a couple of pages I get the “who cares” attitude and just quit. Then my arm and hand always starts to cramp about that point, which is not comfortable at all. Roy Hoffman wrote in his essay that by reading back through his journal entries that he felt he was meeting someone else, like a younger brother. I really liked how he wrote that because I never saw it that way. Whenever I would make journal entry I would read the previous one and it was indeed like reading a story about me or something. By reading this essay it reminded me of something I did in school once.
When I was in seventh grade we made a little time capsule thing. Everyone filled out this paper that asked us what our favorite song was, who was our best friend, what was the fashion trend of that year, and so forth. We also included notes, pictures, drawings and whatever else we wanted to put in there. The teachers put them back in our files or something to hold on to then for us. When we graduated from high school they gave them back to us. To be honest, I had completely forgotten about the project. When I opened the package I was so surprised. Just my handwriting had changed so much that I couldn’t even recognize it. I couldn’t believe how much I had changed in just four years. My favorite song had changed, of course, and even my best friend was different.
After reading this essay I think I will get a small journal to carry with me so I can record my thoughts and observations, and look back at them at a later time and see how much I have grown and improved, whether it be just my writing or my hairstyle.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Keen Eye
Its been cold around here for a few months now. Sometimes I wonder if it will ever be warm again, or if all the plants will grow back. A prime example is this dead, whatever it once was, sitting here in front of the entrance to the college. The container it is held is has very misleading carvings of a warm beautiful sun and of fruits across the entirety of it.
Though from those warm images no life resonates, no hope that the dead plants within will suddenly spring back to their former glory. The pot much like the plants within it, is cold to the touch. They just sit in there, limp with their long dried up leaves hanging over the lip of the pot like an octopuses’ dead tendrils. Even when the wind blows across them there is no life, no movement, not a single sign of hope.
The way the plant is treated isn't much better, what with the half smoked cigarettes and the chewed bubblegum littering its soil. It just seems to make this damned wind even colder then it had been before. The thing looks so depressing and now looking about there isn't much else that would bring any looks of warmth save for the brushed aluminum doors that I am resting against.
Perhaps it will soon be time to go inside. Maybe I should say something about getting the college some evergreens to make the entrance feel more welcoming during the winter season. In fact I think it would really make the place look a little more appealing to be in. College may be far different from High School but damned if this particular building doesn't try its hardest to make it more depressing.
Though from those warm images no life resonates, no hope that the dead plants within will suddenly spring back to their former glory. The pot much like the plants within it, is cold to the touch. They just sit in there, limp with their long dried up leaves hanging over the lip of the pot like an octopuses’ dead tendrils. Even when the wind blows across them there is no life, no movement, not a single sign of hope.
The way the plant is treated isn't much better, what with the half smoked cigarettes and the chewed bubblegum littering its soil. It just seems to make this damned wind even colder then it had been before. The thing looks so depressing and now looking about there isn't much else that would bring any looks of warmth save for the brushed aluminum doors that I am resting against.
Perhaps it will soon be time to go inside. Maybe I should say something about getting the college some evergreens to make the entrance feel more welcoming during the winter season. In fact I think it would really make the place look a little more appealing to be in. College may be far different from High School but damned if this particular building doesn't try its hardest to make it more depressing.
My Observation! Blog 10
I can see it now; Meg and me cruising in her Cobalt, with the windows rolled down and the smell of her Macintosh Apple air freshener in the air. Her car is absolutely adorable. The color seems to fit her personality very well; the blue is a very bubbly blue, just like her. It makes me see blue in a different light. I have always thought that blue was drab and boring and now I see how it shimmers in the light, even when it's really gloomy outside. Her car is just a two door, so it is fairly small, but still an eye catcher. When I see her car it makes me think of the summer and how much fun she must have driving it. Her car has me pondering why I chose the car I did instead. Her car would make more sense since it would definately get more gas mileage and still would give the wow factor. I recently noticed that on the back of her car there are four big tail lights. They are a very bright red, almost like the Macintosh Apple air freshener. They really stand out to me. I wonder why I had not noticed them until the second time I had gone to observe it. Her car is still really new so it makes me wonder if it still has a hint of new car smell. That is one of my favorite smells. It is so fresh and smells like it had just rained on a hot summer evening. My grandparents always have a new car, so it kind of reminds me of them. I just cannot get over how bright the blue is. It feels undescribable to me. It's a mixture of a deep blue sky with a hint of midnight blue. It makes the perfect combination like mixture for chocolate cupcakes (my favorite). I noticed today that her car was parked right up to the building as if to say, " I am the boss." I wonder if she arrived early today because I could never snag such a great parking spot. How early would you have to get here to get a great parking job, maybe I should try getting here earlier. I bet her car does amazing in this horrible winter slush. Her tires probably glide right through it with ease. I wish it was that way with my car, mine is terrible in this weather. After observing her car, it makes me think a little more about the potential to this little blue car.
My Observation
Sitting on the edge of 231 is a sign. This sign isn't like most. It's a life like horse trailer suspended in the air. It almost looks real from the side. If you move in front of it or behind it you can realize that it's a fake. The trailer is to thin to be real. It's painted like a real trailer with a south western design of red and white displayed across it's sides. The pattern is almost geometrical with different sizes and angles of four sided figures. It reminds me of the horse trailer we have at home.
When I look at the horse trailer suspended in the air it brings me back to the times me and my family shared. All the times we spent together going to different horse camps in the middle of the summer. I can just smell the camp fire and the horses. Looking at the trailer sends me back into time. The time when there were no worries and everything was just a game. I wish that I still lived in those years. Although I'm not old by any means, there's nothing like child hood memories. My sisters and I would all tell scary stories before we went to bed. We usually ended up scaring ourselves and not being able to go bed. Every noise we heard from frogs, to branches breaking in the woods sent us running to our parents even though we all knew there was nothing really there.
When I look at the horse trailer suspended in the air it brings me back to the times me and my family shared. All the times we spent together going to different horse camps in the middle of the summer. I can just smell the camp fire and the horses. Looking at the trailer sends me back into time. The time when there were no worries and everything was just a game. I wish that I still lived in those years. Although I'm not old by any means, there's nothing like child hood memories. My sisters and I would all tell scary stories before we went to bed. We usually ended up scaring ourselves and not being able to go bed. Every noise we heard from frogs, to branches breaking in the woods sent us running to our parents even though we all knew there was nothing really there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)