Wall stories

The walls of my room in Chico differ from the walls of my room in the house I grew up in. Those walls are bare, with little to show of who I am. Since moving to Chico for school, I have abandoned the walls of my “other” room and moved forward these four walls instead. These are the ones that accurately represent my current life, rather than the life I lived as a teenager in high school who wore dirty, beat-up tennis shoes and T-shirts with band names on them every day.

The largest wall in my room showcases a bulletin board, framed photographs, a map, a painting done by a friend from high school I rarely talk to but miss all the time, Polaroid pictures and large paper cut-out letters.

The bulletin board tells the greatest story. It displays artifacts I have collected over the years, including baseball game tickets, a CAVE pin, photobooth pictures of myself and high school friends, birthday cards and a prom keychain that snuck its way to college. A pin made in the 1980s proudly displays a photo of my parents during that time– my mother my age and my father sporting an unsightly haircut. There are faded ticket stubs from movies I can’t remember if I liked and wristbands from the times I went to see my favorite bands play in venues that made me feel like a child– wristbands are for those under 21. Tacked to the board is even a lime green post-it note with a few words written by my roommate nearly a year ago. “Have a wonderful first day of junior year, Jenna!”

The framed photographs are fairly average, with my attempt at evenly distributing those I love– a picture of me and my boyfriend, one of me with my siblings, another with my best friend from high school and one more with my current college roommates. The time cycle is clear. The map and Polaroid photos hang above my bed as inspiration.

And lastly, the cut-out letters are taped in a somewhat wiggly line in the upper right corner and display some of my favorite song lyrics and words to live by: Stay what you are.


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