If These Walls Could Talk

It is time to tackle the walls. Once again, plenty of memorabilia from high school and camp. I sometimes find myself wondering if that means that these were my glory days, or simply when my hoarding got serious.

First, this series of postcards that were lined up by the window.

I got these on the trip I took Europe in 10th grade. They were being given away for free in a skeezy basement bar in Munich. Now, I am not openly admitting that I had my first drinking experience on a school sponsored field trip (especially considering I now earn my paycheck hanging out with kids who violate school policy), but we did have time to "explore the cities" on our own in a country where the drinking age was 16. Coincidentally, this was the same trip where I missed a whole day of site seeing because a mysterious 24 hour bug left me puking all day.

Next, posters from my closet:
(presumably moved after I had grown out of them, but, shockingly, was not ready to throw them out)

 Mom did not care for the tag line of this poster, "Sex. Clothes. Popularity. Is There a Problem Here?". She most likely made her trademark groan of disapproval. As an adult myself, I can't say I would be thrilled if my 13 year old hung this in her room either.

 I never cared for this poster, I just couldn't ever get rid of it because it was a gift from someone else.

Posters from almost every play I was in during high school.

Ribbons from my one year on ConVal's Track and Field Team:

 I threw discus and shot put. Pretty sure that the "heats" I competed in never had more than 5 or 6 people. (Quote marks used because I legitimately have no idea if it is called a heat if you are not actually running)

Random ads, photos, and decor I thought were cool at the time:

Okay, the Dawson's Creek ad- not so random. I LOOOOOOVED the Dawson throughout high school and college. The frenemies, the love triangles, the worries that because you didn't make something of your  life by 17 you were a total failure- oh, it was like watching my life on the small screen- or at least that's what I wanted to believe. All that, and, I was constantly fascinated by how much James Van Der Beek looked like my older brother. I'm pretty sure my brother founds this comparison obnoxious and inaccurate. No one else really seemed to see it either. He was away at college at the when this show started, so I didn't have as much face time with him. This look-a-like thing was probably just all in my head.

Then there's this gem, for which there are no words:

Sadly, the shine from the flash makes it hard to fully appreciate the unicorns on the other side of that rainbow.

Lastly, there is a whole collection of Gotchs and other small tokens from my LC/ LIT years at camp. For those of you who do not know, these are the two years in our leadership training program. Leader Corps happens the summer after 10th grade. Your LIT (Leader In Training) year is the year you transition from camper to staff. It is similar to your year of graduation- a reference point in time that give other alumni a sense of whether or not you would know the same people. Coincidentally, this is the program I now run. It is like being the senior class advisor ever year. Best. Job. Ever.

 

"Amanda, is that human hair?"
No my friends, that is part of a weave that fell out of my friend Mariah's hair. If I had logical reasons for saving everything I'd saved over the years, this blog would not be as interesting.

 This head band was made for me after I completed Black Tag, one of our more secretive traditions. I'd tell you all about it, but then I'd have to kill you.

An I.D. bracelet my co-leader made for me. She made them for everyone on staff with their nicknames. I did not have a nickname.

My most valuable lesson of the night? If you leave scotch tape up for over a decade, there is no way you can avoid pulling huge chips of paint off with it.