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My Chaotic Room

Posted on February 24, 2007 at 9:51 am
Filed under Random Realities

NOTE:This essay was written on January 23, 2007 at the wee hours of the morning. It’s just I can’t sleep at that time that’s why I wrote this.

“Christian! Karinat na ning kwartu mo! Linisan mu ne mo!” is the comment that I always hear from my parents whenever they visit my room. For the sake of those people who don’t understand Kapampangan, its English equivalent is “Christian! Your room is so filthy! Clean your room!” It really irritates me every time I hear this remarkable remark, but as what I always do — and I’m sure you also do this — I simply ignore their comment.

Cleaning my room is really a big chore. With so many personal projects and school stuffs that I do, cleaning my room is always on the latter part of my to-do list.

My typical day would always start with my morning rituals: groom myself, eat, and go to school. And hours before the night strikes, after getting back home from school, I would directly start my computer and surf the internet under a slow dial-up connection trying to look for something that would interest me. The next thing that I would do is to review the day’s lessons or review for a test in Zoology or Chemistry — that is if I was in the mood. With little time to spare before getting into the comforts of my bed, I can’t afford to clean my little space here at home as I still have other important things to do. And this process repeats day after day.

Yes, I admit that I have a dirty and chaotic room that would make you react “Eeew! Gross!” if I was not able to do some last-minute cleaning before you entered my room. But then again, whenever I clean my room, it’s as if I did not do anything. In the end, my parents would say, “It does not look like you cleaned your room. Look! Do you call this clean?” Mind you, with all these mess, I still know where I put all of my things.

One day, while I was out for a birthday party, to my surprise, my father decided to clean my room. Instead of getting happy, as my room was more conducive to study and sleep in, I was somehow disappointed. Because yet again, he threw my things to the bin. No, not those essential things that you need to bring everyday. These are the things that I wanted to keep for a lifetime. Good thing that this time, he let me look at the contents of my bin before completely disposing its contents.

By the time I finished sorting the contents of my not-so-big-but-not-so-small trash can, it was less than 1/3 of its original content. I retrieved a gift wrapper, a library card, an empty pen, a receipt, and other things that a normal person would not collect.

Basically, all of these things have sentimental values to me. I always find a reason why I should not dispose these things. An example would be the empty pen; it was the last My Gel, 0.5 pen that I used back in high school so I keep it, and the gift wrapping paper which covered the book Angels and Demons that I got from my favorite teacher two Christmases ago for our exchange gift. The weirdest thing that I keep until now is the fragments of a Harry Potter figurine that my uncle gave me. It was the reason why I became a Harry Potter aficionadoÂ… so why should I throw such memorable things? After all, they are all mine so I have the choice to throw or keep them. Alas for my parents, I decided to keep all of them.

How much chaos is in my room? This is a cliché but let me use it still: it was as if a humungous hurricane — the furriest among all hurricanes — had devastated my bedroom. I have a computer table in my room that is always crowded with pieces and strips of paper and other memorabilia. My cabinet does not only houses my clothes but also litters to the eyes of my parents: multiple copies of our official publication in high school, a 3 Musketeers wrapper, and a script of a short play. I also have drawers that were supposed to contain my shirts, but are now holding most of my things that I reckon are worthy to keep.

A couple or three days ago, on the dinner table, my mother mentioned to my father that our temporary maid wanted to buy our broken and rusty pedicab. Suddenly, my father blurted out “No way!” His reason? Well, he said that it has sentimental values; it was the pedicab that rescued us and our things (like our 21-inch colored Sony TV which still works up to date) back in the early 90’s here in Pampanga when the lahars flowed which wrecked our house.

That night, I almost opened the topic why my room is always littered with things that they think I would not need and why I don’t like cleaning my bedroom: every single thing in my room has its own precious value imbedded on them. I treat them as if they were my friends who are emotionally attached to me. It’s hard for me to throw these stuffs. It would take me years before I can forget their sentimental values. But I know, my parents would not understand me. They would still tell me to clean my room ever now and then.

Nothing is permanent in this world, but as long as these memorable things to me still exist, I try to cling on them so I give them extra importance. I know, I can’t have all of them until I reach the senescence stage as some would be destroyed by time, some would be eaten by termites while others’ texts would fade away making them almost worthless, and some would cease its importance to me as we travel forward through time. Nonetheless, as long as they are here, as long as they are in my room, these are all perfectly guarded. They are my little treasures.

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