A few days ago, something sad happened.
I painted my childhood bedroom.
So you might be thinking that isn’t a big deal. To be honest, neither did I. It was my mum and my sister who thought it was a sad event.
They were sad because of this. My old scribble wall. For in painting my old childhood room, I would be painting over my old scribble wall.
My scribble wall has a bit of a background story to it:
When I was a teenage, I had big ideas. I had big story ideas. Big project ideas. Big plan ideas. Think of ‘big’ and ‘ideas’ and that was me in a nutshell. Big ideas hit me like a never ending rain shower of blinking light bulbs falling from the sky and bouncing off my head.
Some days I would flop down on the couch just plain big idea exhausted.
It’s tough being creatively switched on.
Anyhoo. Back to my story.
There’s several things you should know about my childhood bedroom:
1. I moved into it when I was ten.
I spent the next ten years living in it.
2. It was the first room I ever, ever, ever had all to myself.
No sharing with younger messy brothers.
No sharing with younger crying-in-the-night baby sisters.
No sharing whatsoever.
It was awesome.
3. I spent 97.9999% of my teenage years, living, breathing and big ideaing in this room.
I hardly left it. Ask my mum.
I was forever rearranging my bedroom. We’re talking every couple of months. I think my creaky single bed was positioned in every possible angle through the ten years I inhabited it. Simaraly, the walls saw many picture frames and posters and photographs in their time as my sactuary.
Which brings me back to this here wall. When I was sixteen, I had a big idea. It was so big and so awesome, I could hardly wait to get started.
So I got started straight away. I took a very black, very permanent marker and drew on my bedroom wall.
But before that, I went to my parents and asked permission. It always pays to ask your parents first before taking permanent markers to things. To my great amazement, they said yes. Maybe my big idea enthusiasm was a good selling point.
I also probably smiled really, really big.
It always pays to smile when asking your parents for things.
I asked Mum the other day why she did let me draw all over my wall. She said it was probably because they were homeschooling parents.
Homeschoolers are a weird and wonderful bunch.
So I got my permission and away I went with my permanent marker. I wrote quotes I liked, drew pictures of hedge hogs on flower heads, immortalised a Star Wars character, drew a border around my favourite Bible scripture, wrote more quotes, drew more pictures. I had a lot of fun doing it. It was a really cool wall.
My family and friends thought it was pretty cool wall.
People who came to visit us thought it was pretty cool too.
Or maybe they just said that and were really thinking what a weird bunch homeschoolers were.
Then life happened. I grew up, left the nest, made my nest in another bedroom, and in another house. As I’ve been repainting my parents’ house over the last few months, it was inevitable that I would came full circle, and back around to my old childhood room for one last remodel.
My sister didn’t want me to do it.
My mum wanted me to take photos before I did it.
And now you’re reading a blog post all about it.
It’s the homeschooler in me. We’re a weird and wonderful bunch.
So I posed.
And I rolled.
And I let my Side Kick finish it off so I could immortalise one of my big ideas on camera.
Fare thee well, Cool-Cat-Wearing-Shades.
Fare thee well, Scribble Wall.
xx The Girl in Trousers
P.S. Here’s a list of a few things that were on my childhood wall and no longer are:
Quote: ‘Drama is life with the boring bits cut out.’
Scripture: ‘My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.’
Drawing: Hedge hog sitting on top of a flower.
Drawing: A chinese man sitting cross-legged.
Quote (which I read on the back of a public toilet door): ‘And those who danced were thought insane, by those who couldn’t hear the music.’
Quote: ‘Do or do not. There is no try’ – Yoda
Quote: ‘Education is what survives, when want has been learnt has been forgotten.’