A&E can quit calling me now

For the last 2 weeks I’ve been successfully beating back my inner hoarder (which I believe the majority of people teeter on the edge of becoming) by doing a massive upheaval and reorganization of my room and closet. I’ve filled 10+ Trader Joe’s brown paper bags, 2 old tote bags and backpacks, and 3 cardboard boxes full of accumulated crap. A lot of it were college notebooks and mountains of powerpoint class lesson printouts I was too scared to toss until now. You know, just case I need to recall that John Williams takes a lot of his material from others (E.T., Jaws, Star Wars, Superman love theme). I also packed up yard sale/donation boxes with old stuffed animals, all of my CDs, chocolate chip cookie-scented candles, and TJ Maxx purses from my high school era. Unfortunately I went through my purse phase way too early in life because the ones I ended up collecting were those sherpa types and the Dickies brand, all mini size and impractical and purposefully placed in the farthest dark corner of my closet.

How do so many of nothing-items accumulate just within the limited space of nightstand drawers? But I have my window seat back again! I found missing dust jackets for some hard cover books that I can now post onto paperbackswap.com (Be gone from my precious book shelf space, Christopher Moore’s The Stupidest Angel)! $30 discovered! And then immediately spent at Chipotle. A $15 gift certificate for Victoria’s Secret from 2002 and $30 to Beach Bums from 1999! Bonus: No expiration date on either! The top shelf of my armoire is no longer unnervingly bending in a downward slope from the weight of riskily stuffed 3 rows of books! Good things come from decluttering.

Some other memory-stoking items found while sorting through the purses and drawers:

  • Nasty Girl glitter gloss (no longer in production, shockingly. The ho concept was too early for its time), purse pockets full of movie ticket stubs (I saw Napoleon Dynamite 7 times. Seriously.), photo albums that only served to remind me of a teen girl blindly groping across the murky waters from tomboy-town to lady-land. Old Navy overalls were my lifeline, is all you need to know about my clothing preferences.
  • Journal to my “future husband”. During my early teen years it was sort of popular among parts of the Christian youth world to write these sappy letters that contained “prayers, thoughts, hopes, and dreams a young woman has for the man she will one day marry”. Obviously I now get that this was one way to promote abstinence, because writing honestly that you sexually erred with Nick from your community college Step Aerobics class wouldn’t be the most pleasant read for this prospective hubby. I attempted writing about 3 pages worth, which started out with griping (“I’m only 14, but it’d be nice to meet you now and not have to wait around too long”. Oh young me, if you only knew what was down the road still 10 years later…), then mostly devolved into listing my favorite and least favorite things in life (Lakers and mid-calf socks, respectively), gluing on Thomas Kinkade daily calendar photo cutouts for decoration, and writing out song lyrics. I never had a Livejournal blog during that time, but it looks like I would have fit in nicely.
    • Side note: I DID have a Diaryland account in high school, but the entries and thoughts I posted on that thing blew up in my face in a huge way, thus the lack of interest in writing overly personal life events on the internet since (Other stories for (no) other times!).
    • Diaryland also introduced me to the world of internet stalking. The classic overshare was alive and well 8 years ago as it is today.

  • I also owned an inordinate number of those “About Me” journals, all about 1/8ths finished most of it being incredibly tedious to read. One entry did jog my memory regarding my senior year of high school and how when the 2nd round of basketball playoffs interfered with my winter formal, I chose to skip the game for winter formal. Keep in mind that if I had gone to the game (the last of my sports career), I would have only missed the hair and makeup prep time before the formal, not the actual event. AND I was a captain of my basketball team. I was also so remorseless and smug about bailing on my team in the journal entry. Teenage Andrea kinda sucked, you guys.
    • The team lost that game. It’s probably for the best I didn’t go, because knowing my then-spiteful nature I would have probably fouled out on purpose to get out of playing.

      me and date and forehead makes 3

  • The journal parade continues with a few notebooks I had exchanged back and forth with my best bud Nicole. Her quality of posts at that young of an age still impresses me: Offering up solid wisdom to douse my manic thoughts, jokes and observations that are still funny, creative page decor. Then you have mine: written in markers, Lakers-themed, 4 pages of Pet Peeves, and the very dated but obligatory hotties page every girl creates the old school way – chopping off heads from US magazine hidden in the grocery cart when shopping with mom. You can tell what year range and pop culture I was sucked into based on the mix of these guys and my inane commentary: Spiderman, Star Wars, Moulin Rouge, Justin Timberlake’s solo album, The Fast and The Furious, P.O.D., The Wedding Planner, Friends series ending, Save the Last Dance, Kobe pre-adultery days. Today, the only

  • I found this under a tower of books, which was given to my sister-in-law from her pre-marital mentoring couple. They’re also the same audio CDs that Anna and Josh Duggar listened to on the way to a hotel on their wedding night (2:50 mark). Entertaining and informative! It has a total of 35 tracks, which include Bedroom Etiquette, Honeymoon Environment, Realistic Expectations, Dilating the Hymen, and The Joy of Physical Touching. Lord.


About bunkercomplex

My name is Andrea, and I'm a 23 year old Southern California girl and a newly minted Speech-Language Pathologist. When I’m not high-fiving 8-year-olds for finally producing a good /r/ sound, I fill my time with Peter Gabriel, Ayn Rand, Phil Hendrie, bicycles, Korean stationery, movie marathon nights, and baking. You can email me at bunkercomplex@gmail.com.
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One Response to A&E can quit calling me now

  1. Nicole says:

    I don’t know how wise I was then – wasn’t Prince William on my En Fuego page? Yikes. It cracks me up that Kobe was on your page, though. You had such a love/hate thing going on with the Lakers at that time. Remember when Laker-related anxiety was your main form of stress? I think you thought they were giving you an ulcer or angina or something. Ah, high school…

    You look so young in that winter formal pic! And that corsage is as big as your head. Good job, Andrea’s faceless winter formal date (who may or may not have turned out to be kind of a douche).

    Congrats on the room clean out! Now when Jeff Blitz comes to me and asks me if I know anyone who’d be a good subject for his Maysles-style documentary about lady hoarders, I’ll say, “Well, you could have had Andrea. Lord knows she would have done it because she loved ‘Spellbound’ like a mofo. But she’s clean now. She’s clean.”

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