I apologize for the horrible picture quality. I know I shared my collage today in class, so I’ll try to be as brief as possible and not repeat myself too much. In terms of my writing process, this collage is missing about everything else in the universe. I could take a picture of anything and put it on there, and I’m sure it’s crossed my mind at some point in life. My mind is constantly whirring. That’s probably why I get so many headaches.
The socks are an obsession of mine, and I’m not really sure why. I’ve always loved socks. And I love ones that are quirky, that have ridiculous designs and images on them. You would be amazed at how many socks I have. Trust me, I should stop here, because I could go on for days, but let’s just say that I love socks and I have absolutely no idea why except they make me exceptionally happy.
Growing up in Merced, I was subjected to a lot of farmland and country, especially living on the McKee side of town (native Merceders, you know what I mean). Also, my sister lived for most of my life on an orchard. I’ve always been fascinated with trees, with walking through forests and woods, the sunlight leaking through the leaves and the quiet snapping of nature, the rustling of wind. It’s always inspired my mind. I made up countless stories centered around forests growing up. My father and I even had a little game (an actual store bought one) that came with cassettes, and you were supposed to make the whole house a part of the enchanted forest, put signs up to signify which room was the river and which one was the dark forest, etc. Suffice to say I lived more in my fantasy life growing up than in reality.
I look back a lot now in this particular time of my writing life. Many years have gone by where I refused to remember a lot of things about my past, but now I’m constantly craning my neck around to view them again. The roots and the old time picture, the little old rusty clock, represents that aspect of my writing process. I used to hate the idea of memoir (probably cause I didn’t like to think of the past) but I find myself writing more and more about my early experiences. I look at my pictures a lot, especially the ones of me as a baby or toddler. I remember a lot more about my childhood than is normal, I think. Moments from when I was too young to really be able to remember. But there you go.
The smell of candles…well, just smells in general, have always influenced my life. I love good smells. A good smell can put me in a very happy mood instantaneously. Consequently, a horrible smell can easily destroy my whole day. My boyfriend has had to limit the amount of times I’m allowed in Bath and Body Works because the smells are like a drug to me–they call to me and pull me in. I could spend hours in that store, the different scents making me euphoric, a sure sign I’m an addict. This is another one of those facts about myself that I don’t know how to explain, I just know it’s very important to me. Smells can take me back. Tastes too.
The rest of the images I think I explained pretty thoroughly in class. I know this blog was supposed to be brief, so I bow down and beg for your mercy at making this so long. So there’s a few details about the images in my collage and what they mean to me.