Shari, my next-door neighbor of three years, recently wrote about my room for a journalism assignment. Read her article (a “guest post”) below.
By Shari Weiss
There is no glancing into Lia’s room. There is no briskly walking past. There is only stopping. You may be walking down the hallway, with your eyes cast straight ahead, determined to reach that bathroom before your bladder explodes, and that wonderful tool known as peripheral vision will take over. You can’t miss the vibrant colors or the wall-to-wall decorations. You simply can’t miss Lia.
If you were to dissect the hodgepodge that is Lia’s brain, it would look something like her room. Post-its dress a square section of a wall, a unique way to constantly remind her of all the brain forgets. Equally-spaced pictures adorn the rest of the walls, rectangular moments-in-time depicting the 20 years of her life. It’s not self-centered. It’s downright friendly. A tribute to her life, a life that includes friends and family and the moments shared between them; walls of appreciation, if you will. Any remaining naked, white space is a deliberate decision. Lia wouldn’t consider herself an artist, but she does have a knack for visually mapping out her life.
Book shelves are lined not just with the college basics—a sociology book, spiral notebook, day planner—but personal staples: a siddur (the Jewish prayer book), the Associated Press Stylebook, Jodi Picoult novels she has set aside but will never open. The choices of books aren’t rare; only the assortment is. That’s Lia.
Purposefully-placed tchotchkes, like Dorothy’s ruby red slippers, welcome full examination. Elaborately draped necklaces, hanging around a light stand, and earrings perched on a wood frame are reminiscent of a jewelry store display. Drawers are waiting to be pulled open. You may find a rainbow of t-shirts or maybe a variety pack of plasticware. Help yourself.
Yes, Lia’s room is designed for exploration. It might be the things she likes but it’s for you. Want to get to know Lia? Know her room. And don’t worry if the door is closed. I’ve wasted countless minutes looking at the articles, pictures and old birthday cards taped on. And you know what? I find something new every time.