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Diagnostic Composition
My room is my safe haven. It is the place I go when my whole world seems to crash, and the place where I stay until everything has straightened itself out again. At first glance, a person might not think much of the room where I have spent years discovering who I am. There is always some clutter on the floor - a bag full of yard sale finds, a pile of books, a photo album opened up to last years homecoming - but it my mind, it is all part of the giant puzzle, and each of these objects is a piece of who I am.
The most important element of my room is the music corner. It is filled with instruments like a saxophone, a trumpet, a guitar, and a keyboard. This is the area where my passion for music began. It is in this corner that I learned to play the drums, I wrote my first composition, and where I have practiced for the past eight years. There is a pile of books under my keyboard. It contains everything from The Idiots Guide to Music Theory, to the “Piano Trio,” by Bruce Hobson. It is also in this corner that my favorite piece of furniture can be found. It is a large green chair. I discovered it in front yard with a, “Free to Good Home,” sign. The chair is not the most comfortable object I have ever sat on, but it is where I complete my homework, and also where I write poetry, and spend hours filling my sketchbook.
As your eyes continue to glance around this space, you may notice a dollhouse. Most people assume that it a piece of my Childhood, waiting for the day to come when I will consider it to be juvenile, and place it in a box to never be touched again. However, to me, that dollhouse represents my heritage, and an entire summer of my life. It is during that summer while I was cleaning my grandmother’s attic that I discovered the tiny abandoned house. Over the course of the summer, my grandparents and I transformed the beat up dollhouse, while my grandmother explained to me its history. Her father had made it for her out of orange crates, and scraps of wood, and he gave it to her as a Christmas present when she was a child. While I restored the dollhouse, I learned more about my family’s history then I could have ever imagined to. I gained a deep respect for my ancestors, and for my relatives, as well as myself.
Because I consider reading to be one of the most imperative parts of my life, I have bookcases full of the novels that have caused me to rethink my life. Next to my bed is the most prominent one in my room. I built it myself about six month ago, and it is not the sturdiest thing, but it does its job. It is covered in a collage of music memorabilia, and throughout the past couple months has served as the storage spot for everything I hold most valuable. It contains a vinyl recording of West Side Story, which was the first musical I ever saw at the Lyric. It introduced me to a completely new level of music, that I had never before contemplated, and since that time, musicals have been a staple of my music collection. As I said before I am very drawn to the books on this shelf though. Some of the most worn are The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Catcher in the Rye and Flowers for Algernon. All of these books have shaped my life, and changed the way I think about everything, from the trials and tribulations of high school, to the world of science.
My room is more or less a personal shrine to person I am, the person I was, and to the person who I one day hope to be. I find that it can be compared to the quote by Arundhati Roi, “Perhaps it is true that a few dozen hours can affect the outcome of whole lifetimes. And that those dozen hours, like the remains of a burned house.... must be salvaged from the ruins...Preserved. Accounted for.” My room is where I am preserving, and accounting for the remains, of my life.
My room is my safe haven. It is the place I go when my whole world seems to crash, and the place where I stay until everything has straightened itself out again. At first glance, a person might not think much of the room where I have spent years discovering who I am. There is always some clutter on the floor - a bag full of yard sale finds, a pile of books, a photo album opened up to last years homecoming - but it my mind, it is all part of the giant puzzle, and each of these objects is a piece of who I am.
The most important element of my room is the music corner. It is filled with instruments like a saxophone, a trumpet, a guitar, and a keyboard. This is the area where my passion for music began. It is in this corner that I learned to play the drums, I wrote my first composition, and where I have practiced for the past eight years. There is a pile of books under my keyboard. It contains everything from The Idiots Guide to Music Theory, to the “Piano Trio,” by Bruce Hobson. It is also in this corner that my favorite piece of furniture can be found. It is a large green chair. I discovered it in front yard with a, “Free to Good Home,” sign. The chair is not the most comfortable object I have ever sat on, but it is where I complete my homework, and also where I write poetry, and spend hours filling my sketchbook.
As your eyes continue to glance around this space, you may notice a dollhouse. Most people assume that it a piece of my Childhood, waiting for the day to come when I will consider it to be juvenile, and place it in a box to never be touched again. However, to me, that dollhouse represents my heritage, and an entire summer of my life. It is during that summer while I was cleaning my grandmother’s attic that I discovered the tiny abandoned house. Over the course of the summer, my grandparents and I transformed the beat up dollhouse, while my grandmother explained to me its history. Her father had made it for her out of orange crates, and scraps of wood, and he gave it to her as a Christmas present when she was a child. While I restored the dollhouse, I learned more about my family’s history then I could have ever imagined to. I gained a deep respect for my ancestors, and for my relatives, as well as myself.
Because I consider reading to be one of the most imperative parts of my life, I have bookcases full of the novels that have caused me to rethink my life. Next to my bed is the most prominent one in my room. I built it myself about six month ago, and it is not the sturdiest thing, but it does its job. It is covered in a collage of music memorabilia, and throughout the past couple months has served as the storage spot for everything I hold most valuable. It contains a vinyl recording of West Side Story, which was the first musical I ever saw at the Lyric. It introduced me to a completely new level of music, that I had never before contemplated, and since that time, musicals have been a staple of my music collection. As I said before I am very drawn to the books on this shelf though. Some of the most worn are The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Catcher in the Rye and Flowers for Algernon. All of these books have shaped my life, and changed the way I think about everything, from the trials and tribulations of high school, to the world of science.
My room is more or less a personal shrine to person I am, the person I was, and to the person who I one day hope to be. I find that it can be compared to the quote by Arundhati Roi, “Perhaps it is true that a few dozen hours can affect the outcome of whole lifetimes. And that those dozen hours, like the remains of a burned house.... must be salvaged from the ruins...Preserved. Accounted for.” My room is where I am preserving, and accounting for the remains, of my life.