SHOW ME YOURS: Strange Relics From My Teenage Years I Cannot Possibly Depart With

WHY CAN'T I QUIT YOU?

Dec 2, 2013 at 10:00am | Leave a comment

As I said in my previous post, I'm "home" -- a.k.a. in the Chicago 'burbs for Thanksgiving. Since I move around the country all the damn time or whatever, I've gone through a few bouts where I rarely make it back here. Every time I do, I try to take more stuff from my teenage room (NOT a childhood room -- we moved around too much when my sisters and I were little) or to donate it to charity.

HOWEVER: My dad recently got a new job and was all sad and remorseful-looking when he told me he'd most likely be selling his house in the spring. (My mom, on the other hand, transformed my dope hot-pink room into a beige hotel room one time when I was out of the country. I WILL NEVER FORGET THAT MOM.) So now I'm being forced to seriously clear out my bedroom. 

I'm by no means a pack rat, and don't develop attachments to most of my stuff. But there have been a few weird things I cannot get rid of, even though they sort of make no sense for my adult life at all. Here they are: 

1. ANGST-FILLED JOURNALS

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So much high school drama in these pages. (And maybe a bit of blood, too.) 

I've been a pretty manic writer for a while now. I used to set my alarm at 3 a.m. every morning (this is real), write for an hour, and go back to sleep, only to wake up for school at 6. I started flipping through these to discover some SERIOUS Chicago-suburb drama, like the time my boyfriend stole $3,000 from our high school or when I broke up with my Australian boyfriend who played drums in a hardcore metal band and his MOM CALLED ME to tell me I destroyed his heart. He writes poetry now and studies philosophy. Neat.

As I sat reading these, my little bratty sister came into the room and stood over me. "Wow," she started in her creaky voice. (And you guys thought MINE was bad). "Someone must've had a lot of time on their hands." I then regressed hardcore, as one should do when they're "home," and told her she sucked. 

2. THIS WEIRD FREAKING BUNNY CANDLE 

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Ugh, it still creeps me out, I love it. 

Got this treasure at the Village Discount, which, if you're in the Chicago-land area is THE BEST thrift store in the whole entire world, hands down. Go forth! 

Behind it is Amor Amor Carchel Perfume ($55.20, drugstore.com) my French boyfriend named Pierre who I met in Paris (also real) brought me when he came to visit. It's a little too sweet of a scent for me now -- vanilla, candy apple, sweet mandarin, jasmine, and sandalwood -- but how could I get rid of it? Scent stirs nostalgia more than any of our other senses; the smell enters our nose, goes through the cranial nerve to the olfactory bulb, and easily triggers the amygdala, which is the emotional center of our brain. Oh, Pierre

3. THIS WEIRD FREAKING BUNNY MASK 

 

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Note my walls used to be dungeon-gray prior to me painting them hot pink and orange. 

Also picked up in France. WHY CAN'T I QUIT YOU? 

4. THIS AMAZING BAT GARLAND

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"CHOOSE YOUR FUTURE. CHOOSE LIFE." Hahaha. Angst! 

Stolen from a neighborhood Halloween party when I was really, really stoned. It's total trash and everyone makes fun of me for it. They still sell it at craft stores each season! I giggled so hard when I got it, though -- it shall remain with me forever. BURY ME WITH IT!

5. THIS BABY CBGB T

 

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(Sobs.) 

Which, yes, was actually purchased at CBGB before it closed in 2006. My tits cannot even squeeze into it now -- but I still try it on every time I'm back here. 

6. THIS DOG COLLAR 

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It was as heavy as it looks. 

Worn with a padlock and all. (Hangs head.) 

7. THESE DUMB SHOES THAT NEVER REALLY FIT

 

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My obsession with Sid Vicious is obvious at this point, non? 

Also from the Village! Mang, I love that place. I used to have a zine called "Oblivious Euphoria" (right) in high school. My friends and I would get stoned, sneak into the office where one of them worked as a lawyer's assistant, and sit there for hours, Xeroxing and stapling 75 copies of each issue. 

We wrote under pseudonyms, but one of our artists once signed her work. She got called down to the principal's office. He demanded to know WHO WAS MAKING SUCH SMUT? And she didn't rat us out! It was amazing. 

Um, also: My name was "Kit" in high school. Do with that what you will. 

8. THESE OLD JANE MAGAZINES

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Look at Jolie! What a babe. 

Because, obviously. 

Time to show me yours! Whether you went "home" for Thanksgiving or not, what strange things from your past can you not seem to get rid of?

Follow me on Twitter: @caitlinthornton.