Wednesday, December 16, 2009
just an existential thought
Tired and broken, my body aches all over. I can walk, barely, but I cannot make sharp movements like turning around to talk to somebody or lifting my arm to grab something. It's a good pain, a pain worth every second of my 15-minute ride.
Nevertheless, I have been computer bound as a result of my condition. I have been writing and cruising the interwebs, stumbling across things that are funny, things that are sad, being consumed into lives of people I have never met. One particular person is this baby in a picture: it's supposed to be my baby picture.
I don't know about most people, but I never really grew up with seeing baby pictures of myself. I was a little saddened, but mostly curious about my origins as a child. Did I appear out of nowhere? Was I found on the street? Was I adopted? Much to my parents' discontent. Undoubtedly, they were saddened by my attitude about the whole thing.
I saw many adorable pictures of my big sister, I got it. She was the first, everything is new and exciting. However, I still became existential. I saw some pictures, but those were minute snapshots of an entire life I had led up until now. I never really saw what I was like as a baby. Then, technology happened and my mom started developing her negatives on the computer. What she found was a hidden abundance of baby pictures, pictures of me. She started sending them to me and even posted some on her facebook. I don't think she understood the effect it truly had on me.
There I was. I didn't remember doing any of these things that there is proof of me doing. Isn't that what pictures are for: to preserve memories. I started seeing myself from a very pure viewpoint. Even a complete stranger could tell that I was analyzing the hell out the camera. Rarely smiling as a baby, but in laughing hysterics as a toddler. This was the key to everything I have ever wondered about myself.
Was I a neurotic mess because of nature or nurture? Why do I seem to laugh at almost everything? There it was. Proof of my personality. It may not have preserved my memories, but it showed my adult self that I haven't changed very much. Just a little older, a little bit wiser, but the same neurotic, hypercritical jokester I have always been.