A lot of people claim a space, whether it be a new home, an office, a car, or something else, by planning it out and designing it so that it reflects the kind of person they feel they are. Whether it’s posters of people they like, paraphernalia of their hobby, pictures of their family, or whatever. It’s a good way to make yourself feel comfortable in an otherwise disconnected place by imbuing it with things that are connected to yourself.
I tend to more just let stuff accumulate somewhere. Which might say something about what kind of person I feel I am, I guess. No, no. It definitely says something about what kind of person I feel I am. An archiver, a pack-rat, a keeper of those things which do not seem important now but may be in the future.
Sometimes, however, those things are already important now.
It’s ridiculous that it’s already been almost a month. Ridiculous that in the time between the evening of January 12th, after our final performance of “The Crucible,” and right now, February 8th, the giddiness that came whenever I thought about the show hasn’t lessened.
Sure, I think about it less. Pieces of the script are fading from my memory like a dream that you put effort into remembering, but will forget over time anyway. But there’s a little flier-sized poster sitting on my desk at work, in front of a stuffed lobster in a transparent box decorated with pigs, to the left of a plush Mario, beneath a plush horse (which has pins stuck into its behind), next to another monitor atop which sits a teddy bear disguised as a leopard, a pig desk calendar (from which came the pig box), and a Steve Jackson chibi-Cthulhu. And every time I look at it, really look at it as opposed to just accepting it as a part of my office space, it makes me giddy.
I wonder how long before that feeling wears off completely?