is it what it seems

We’re packing. Moving is insane. The hunt for the right place, the waiting to hear if you’re good enough, the leaving of your former home. I find it all very overwhelming. That’s to be expected I suppose for a girl who’s lived in one house her whole life. The closest I’ve come prior to married life is dorm moving. But when your parent’s house is close enough to do laundry at every weekend, I don’t really call it moving. It was more like having two rooms. Which, having two closets is a dream.
As I sorted and tossed and packed this afternoon, I discovered old photo albums. Which really, if I’m trying to pack, I should avoid packing photos until the very last minute because I’m sure to spend way too much time wandering down memory lane.
An entire book of people from my past. It was amusing to me to see people whom I almost didn’t say yes to “befriending” on social networking sites because I thought our friend ties in our former years were almost non existent. But no, there we are, grasping arms and smiling. And yes, you did come visit me in the dorms and spend the night. And oh yeah, we did kidnap her at some ungodly hour to only have the 24 hour Denny’s be closed. Wow, how quickly memories fade. Relationships fade too, only usually slower in transit.
I love to recall the crushes, the tears, the passion, the mis split bills at the Ruby’s that doesn’t exist any more. How vivid the feelings were, so historic in their grandeur. But really, a small speck on the radar. You can see it in our faces, the moments being lived, the emotions at their peak.
The pictures tell another story besides the vitality of my youth. They are true records of the moment caught on film. Casually posed, enlivened with the moment with no other purpose than to document life. Its changed, youthful photos of 2008 are wrought with facade.
Thank you to the digital age, my greatest companion destroyed the innocence of my youth. With digital cameras the norm, we retake every photo until every hair is in place, every smile at its best. We don’t have to wait for exposure at Thriftys, instant gratification to proclaim our beauty. And then what is the ultimate purpose of that photo? Its destination is the world wide web via myspace or facebook, to do its duty of proclaiming our excellence and social status. As I look at my albums I can find maybe 1-5 photos which I took of myself that are just of me. Today you can find at least two pages of photos of just me on the web.
I’m bringing back the photo album and you have to come over for dinner and look at it on my coffee table bitches.
Also, my husband just made up a brilliant and slightly disturbing song about underwear.