The Beatles on Abbey Road. Images of Senses Fail and Switchfoot. A closet door decorated with peace quotes. Photos, flowers, New Orleans Saints memorabilia. These are the things surrounding me tonight as I sleep in the room of my friend’s daughter Maria, a sophomore in college, and a HUGE Drew Brees fan.
I wonder when I stopped putting up posters – when I got my first “real” apartment I guess. It seems that when we grow up (or decide we have grown up) we seem to stop advertising our loves and passions in what we decorate with. In many ways, I think that’s a shame. I miss my New Kids on the Block posters and the goofy cat pictures I used to hang. I wish I could walk into someone’s bedroom and have a clear sense of what they love instead of having to decrypt it from a selection of random book titles and color schemes. I’d just love to walk into someone’s kitchen and see a massive Garfield on the refrigerator; I’d expect massive pans of lasagna and sarcasm then.
So in my new office (Mom’s craft room, which she incidentally converted to HER space only a week after I moved out – that woman was quick, I tell ya) I think I’ll hang posters and images I love. When I go to the next Slimfit show, I’m going to buy a poster (do they still sell posters at concerts?), and I’m going to return to my old habit of picking up postcards of my favorite paintings at art museums. I’m going to make a collage of photos of my friends’ kids, and I’m going to take the lead from Maria’s closet and plaster one whole wall with quotes. I’m going to surround myself with things I love, and I’m going to be unashamed. I may even go out and buy a Johnny Depp poster and put it right in front of my desk.
I can almost hear my mom say, “You go, girl.”