Back in the Saddle
I’ve been a blogging delinquent lately. In fact, I’ve been delinquent in nearly every area of my life these past 2 months. But I’m reasonably confident that, starting today, I’m coming back swinging.
I moved into a new apartment 3 weeks ago. So far, I love it. Most of the common areas are set up and unpacked, but my room is a disaster of haphazard cardboard boxes and piles of half-unpacked shoes, laundry, and other random detritus from my life that I can’t quite bring myself to scrap(a pink wing from two Halloweens ago, floppy discs full of college papers, two Starbucks barista action figures [yes, two] I got as gifts back when I was working there). Furthermore, the walls of the apartment are that blank, creamy vanilla color that screams for something, anything to free it from its own boredom, and my roommate and I have yet to hang our art. In an attempt to feel less like a transient camping out in my own home, last night I sifted through the large still-to-be-unpacked box of my CDs and chose my favorite album art to hang on the sloped wall above my bed. I then carefully lined them up in neat rows, sticking globs of Scotch tape to the backs and pressing them against the plaster with my palms. This process took me about an hour, after which I proudly stood back and admired my handiwork.
It was about 30 seconds after I snapped this shot with my cell phone that the first liner note detached itself from the wall and quietly fluttered down. I resolutely plastered the backing with more Scotch tape and pressed it back into place. I then repeated this when the second booklet fell. And the third. By the time I went to bed, I had resolved myself to the fact that music and lyrics would be drifting down to cover me in my sleep, and I did wake this morning, the glossy pamphlets surrounding me like discarded flower petals. But I won’t give up–I will get better adhesive (suggestions welcome), and by god, that album art will stay on my wall!
Even though it was ultimately a failed experiment, I had a fun time doing it. As I pored over those dusty plastic cases and bright album covers, and somehow managed to use up almost an entire roll of Scotch tape, I was transported back to high school, a time when I spent most of my hours in my bedroom, listening to those CDs and cutting pictures out of magazines to tape to the impressive full-wall collage I had adorning the bare plaster there in lieu of wallpaper or paint. Sometimes it’s good to get back to your roots, even if just for a little while.