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The History of Myself in 10 Objects (Part 1)

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It's very hard to try and sum up your life up to a certain point in one post. It's even harder to sum it up using tangible things, items that you still keep around for some reason. I've assigned myself the difficult task of telling you my life... in 10 objects from my room.

1. Security Blanket

My room is very cave-like in appearance and feel. It's in the back of my house, and not much light gets past the trees just outside my window. The carpet is a faded brown, and the walls are an almost mossy green, giving the room a very earthy tone to it, coupled with my massive, dark, wood desk (see Object 4). However, most of the cavern feel comes from my ridiculous clutter. Even when my room is clean, there simply isn't a place for everything. I keep things. Because of this, I've found it very easy to come across tokens from the beginning of my life.

This history begins when I was a newcomer to the world, before I could talk, before I could walk, but not before I could make a point. As embarrassing it is, I still keep this guy around, yet another similarity between Linus and me. (And if this is my first post you've ever read, welcome! I have a fun post about Peanuts characters that I just referenced that you should check out, okay?) Anyhow, I don't go carrying this around, but it has a place on my bed usually, like some people with their teddy bears.

At first glance, this blanket looks like a glorified, wool potholder. Fifteen years have not been kind to it. At one point it had a soft, silk border around it, but that is almost entirely gone, save for a few frays here and there. These frays are soft, but worn almost entirely through. There's a small hole close to one corner, a place where the thumb is drawn to again and again. It's almost as if these years of wear and tear have worked the blanket in for the most comfortable way to hold it.

Why hold it? Why not drape yourself in it? It is a blanket after all, isn't it? Well, for starters: it's tiny, about 1.5' by 1.5'. Second of all, the wool shrunk when it was new, making an odd, thick scratchy feel to it. This is not a blanket for sleeping in. So, why did young Sam keep it?

This can be traced back to the week I got the blanket. From the day I got the blanket, I loved it. However, with baby love comes baby mess, and the blanket soon had to be cleaned. According to the instructions, the blanket would not shrink in the washing machine. However, as is evidenced now, it did shrink. My parents went to get a new, nice blanket. In fact, they got the same one that I had. However, I was having none of it. Soon enough, they gave me back the ruined one, and it's stayed since.

That event is very significant in showing how early I was passionately standing up (figuratively) for what I wanted. I wasn't going to lose my favorite new blanket simply because it looked funky. That strong, uncompromising set of beliefs has stayed with me since.

2. (Broken) Baseball Clock

Most clocks are placed in rooms so the occupants can tell time. Very few clocks exist as tasteful decoration, like old grandfather clocks. This clock is neither. At the foot of my bed, it's always 6:25. That clock hasn't moved in years, and it won't be moving any time soon.

I can't say that I remember when I got this clock, or when it stopped working. But I sometimes wonder if it's stuck in a specific moment, like when I learned how to clear my own dishes after a meal, or when I loved apples without the skin. I sometimes wonder if it's stuck in a time when the Baja Men and Creed were popular. But more often than not, I wonder... why I keep such a tacky clock that doesn't even work around.

3. Soccer Plaque

Those of you who don't know me might be thinking: "Why is this plaque so important?" My friends, on the other hand, will be thinking: "OH MY GOD SAM USED TO PLAY SOCCER OH MY GOD OH MY GOD." You see, I'm a cross country runner, but I've only been running for two and a half years. There was a major period of my life before that when I absolutely despised any team sport, and couldn't run without coming close to falling flat on my face. Look at my face there. Besides the fact that if you slap some facial hair on the picture, it looks just like I do now, this is not a happy smile. This is a "get me out of here" smile. This is a "I don't like to run, so I prefer goalie" smile. This is a "I knocked my tooth out last game, so I don't even like playing goalie anymore."

Interestingly, this plaque is hung in a remote corner of my room, only visible behind my desk from certain angles. That there is very representative about how I feel about sports from this stage of life.

Because chronicling my life is a major effort, I'll be releasing this post in pieces. This is the first one. Objects 4-7 will be out as soon as I can get it, and then Objects 8-10. I hope you enjoy it, and are inspired to chronicle your own lives like this.

- Sam