Elephant Blanket

I am under an elephant blanket in front of photos of Marilyn Monroe. I want to paint my room. I haven't wanted to paint my room. What changed?

Something did.

I woke up one day and saw my room for what it was. It equated to my vision of where the prodigal son lived while he worked amongst the pigs before he gave up and came home.

I hang stuff on the walls to disguise the matter but it's kind of like what Jesus said to the Pharisees about cleaning the outside of the bowl without cleaning the inside.

My room needs to be cleaned from the inside out.

My childhood needs to be removed from this room.

My teenage skin cells need to be cleaned from the window sills of this room.

Everything that belongs in a landfill needs to be removed from this room.

You get the idea.

In a couple of years the room will become defiled again but not so much as this. There will never again be drips of paint on the walls, or charcoal staining the corners, or a wooden teddy bear on the wall (no matter how adorable he is), or a useless whiteboard without markers, or a drafting table with a huge footprint  that has become a catchall for everything and is useless.

It will be better.

I sometimes wonder if after many, many years and many coats of paint a room will become noticeably smaller.

Or is there a definite lifespan to a house if nothing breaks or rots? Will it just fall apart one day just because it's old, sort of like healthy people can die because their bodies can't keep up with their age? Or might my house stand forever as long so done continues to take care of it?

I went inside a store called Habitat the other day to see if it fit my expectation based on the window display. It mostly did: merchandize catering to a counterculture, free-spirited, incense-burning, natural fiber-wearing type of person. The store, however, sold many posters of Marilyn Monroe. I was surprised. They must sell well among the hipsters/hippies or else Habitat wouldn't put out so many, I think.

My bff doesn't understand the allure of this woman.  I didn't realize just how alluring she was until I found that even people who burn incense buy full-sized posters of her! 

Let it be said that people who buy things from this store are not necessarily a TYPE and even if they are that doesn't mean that (1) Marilyn is not like them or (2) their type is bad/inferior/to be ridiculed.

That said, well, I don't really know what else to say. The poor woman is too close to being a goddess for my comfort.

It just hit me that the photos I'm looking at on my Marilyn calendars are non-digital photos.

Amazing.

I found a working non-digital and haven't yet struck up the courage to try it.

We'll see how that goes.