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Bob Schaefer
Advanced Comp
Analysis
September 28, 1992
One gaze across my room gives me a view of a landscape as varied as any nature has ever seen. From my perch upon the bed, the scenery is, at times, quite majestic, even worthy of a postcard. Actually, "majestic" isn't exactly the word Mom uses to describe my room, but whose essay is this - hers or mine? In these great expanses of space several regions become apparent. Each has features unique to its area.
The first realm my eyes fall upon is the tall mesa of my stereo. Sitting high atop its cabinet coolly surveying its surroundings through two eye-like display windows. Cassettes stacked on the cart reach for the top of the stereo, but can't span the distance. CD cases make a similar effort, only they simply don't have the numbers to reach yet. Suspended miles above this scene a small black speaker almost quivers with the effort of spitting out its music. The CD player shudders in sympathy, frantically counting off seconds. Watching, I almost feel like joining them in their merry mile-high dance.
Next to the stereo I see the frozen iceberg of a desk, where my computer resides. Happy to sit in the arctic climate, my machine stares across the room at me in a blaze of blue ice. Despite the cold a number of items seem to have taken permanent residence there. A wealth of papers litters the smooth inclines of frozen glass. A lone can of cola shivers in the frigid presence of IBM. Only one naked Troll has the courage to brave the inhospitable atmosphere on top of the glaring machine. Is he trembling from the music or the cold?
Directly south of the computer is the brass-and-wood mountain of my dresser. Sheer walls dropping straight down to the floor, it looms formidably in the corner. Sitting proudly at the apex of this massive structure is a television set. Too proud to speak, the Tube remains silent and alone on its pinnacle. Scattered about it are the pitiful remains of several objects. Photos of friends past, various coins, vestiges of candy from last Halloween; all huddle together worshipping the television in its glory. Maybe they're simply too exhausted. Around the dresser's base are heaps of clothes which never roused the ambition to make the trip to the top. Gazing up to the peak, I can hardly blame them.
Feet away, looking deceptively small and quiet, is my desk. Despite the tranquil appearance, more activity occurs there than in any other area of my room. Each time I clear it off a new wealth of paper seems to appear. In the darkness of the night, heaps of items sneak onto my desktop. Throughout the night they flip and play, until I at last arise in the morning. When I finally stumble across them in the dim light, they are spread out across the small surface. This acrobatic celebration occurs while I am at school, working, or sometimes even when I leave my room for a can of pop. Just once I would like to catch that tectonic activity happening. Then again, maybe that would take away its mystery.
As my eyes return from their dazzling circuit, I am overwhelmed with the spectrum of features I've encountered. My room really has a personality - a texture all its own. And I can marvel in its beauty and variety... at least until Mom and her vacuum cleaner snap me back to reality.
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Last updated Sunday, August 20, 2006.
