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.
I'm sorry that we didn't have many pictures to show you, didn't help having our camera stolen either.Oh yeah, and you lost the album Sam made for you of all the pictures we did have on hand. You're more verbal now too. It saddens me in a way that you couldn't tell us your feelings,if it was that important to you, I would have had the negatives developed sooner. I find these pictures wonderful, I don't think many of us remember what we thought or did when we were very young. That's the nice thing about pictures. Hope to find more, don't think I have all the negatives yet, some still in storage...hopefully.
ReplyDeleteAhhhh, I had a bunch of stuff written but it got erased.
ReplyDeleteHere's the short version: photos are great; videos are too.