archeology
I have been digging through the past. There was a photo I wanted to find. I have not found the photo. That is making me pretty crazy I know a lot of photos got lost, but I was pretty sure I had that one. Along with a group of photos that were all kid photos. Childhood photos. And it is nowhere to be found. That whole group of photos is nowhere to be found. I cannot find the dog photos either. They must be all together. Somewhere.
I found some old letters. Do I want to open those? No. Not really. They are all probably full of obituaries. My father is not a good communicator. He can not tell me about himself. Instead, I used to get these envelopes that held obituaries of people he had known. No letter. Just a clipping of an obit.
It seems to me a parent and child should have more to say than a clipping of an obit for someone I have never met. I am a whacky idealist that way.
I found pictures I was not expecting. An ex boyfriend. That stuck an ice pick through my heart. Oh yeah. Him. That hurt.
Journals that cover intermittent years going back to when I was what? Twelve?
[Note to self: Put it in writing these get burned if I unexpectedly die and cannot myself crawl to that trunk and toss gasoline and a match. Why do I still have these?]
And where are the damn photos?
Pieces of my past keep disappearing on me.
where the art work came from :
that is from linda carson’s site the big black pig studio
21 Responses to archeology
Why do you still have them? Because you’re supposed to submit to the Cringebook, of course!!
One day you will find those photos I am sure of it.
Cringebook? Not no but hell no. Where are those matches….
Michele, here is hoping. They were the lone survivors.
Yeah, well you notice I told you to send yours in but it was not accompanied with a story of the ones I sent in…. (Because mine met with the business end of a barbeque grill in 1993 under the guise of a school project.)
No one can ever accuse you of wasting that education you took full advantage. [wink]
When I was cleaning out the spare room the other week I found all my large art portfolio folders full of Charchol sketches.
It is easy to forget a part of yourself if it idles long enough.
Oh, that makes me cringe thinking of my kid journals. I don’t know where they are, all I know is I never took them when I moved out of my parent’s home. One thing I know for damn sure, if my mom has them, she’s read them. LOL. I just groaned writing that and it sent my dogs into a barking frenzy.
You are such a troublemaker, you.
Oops.
My Mom has saved anything I’ve ever written…that includes the journals- I say if you read something marked ” private” you get what you deserve.
At any rate, she’s saved it all- stuff I’ve written, journals, stories, essays you name it.
Even interviews I’ve done when I use to sell F/X makeup and magician’s props.
She’s got that stuff in notebooks and scrapbooks.
Creeps me out to see it that way- talk about obit
I’m not dead yet….( says Anita in a ghostly voice )
I go through grand purge moments, where I get rid of a bunch of stuff, then find myself wishing I still had some of it. I have other stuff I haven’t purged and probably won’t care about. It’s always weird stuff I end up missing, too. Maybe one day I’ll figure it out [shrug]?
This leaving stuff at your parents’ house is just weird to me, I have never done that.
“found some old letters. Do I want to open those? No. Not really. They are all probably full of obituaries. My father is not a good communicator. He can not tell me about himself. Instead, I used to get these envelopes that held obituaries of people he had known. No letter. Just a clipping of an obit.”
Only three letters. WTF? lol
Oh my god, you just reminded me. My dad sends me emails of all these circus freaks and wrestlers who look like mutants from back in the day – like the fifties and sixties. And there’s not even a comment!
What does this mean, oh wise wine?
One more thing. Can you post a pic of the ex?
Sorry……………
Perv.
I never put anything in writing. Never. Never did. I never trusted it to stay safe. Maybe I didn’t want to see what I wrote my own self. I dunno. I just know I never put anything in writing. And still don’t.
I feel your pain on the photos. I’m missing bunches of pics that should go in my book. Three weeks of touring with Canned Heat and not a pic to be found.
Working on a post that will include an odd family photo that my mother just identified. I’ve managed to hang on to a bunch of those.
As for the journals. I’d be lost without mine – few as they are – also for my book. I couldn’t believe everything I’ve forgotten. Swiss cheese brain here.
Well this is probably not a good character trait but journals tend to be bitch fests for me. Someplace I go to talk about what is bugging me and think on the page about what to do about it. I tend to write in them a lot when things are very wrong, and not so much when things are very right. So anyone looking at a journal of mine would get the impression life was really sucking because they would miss the good stuff and just see me whinging. No one needs to read that.
My life sucks a lot and I bitch so the impression they’d get is – right on!
BTW, I didn’t come here for the sugar cookies, I came here for the grit!
Oops. I had better post more grit but go watch the boys in towels sugar cookies are not all bad around here.