I visited my parents for father’s day and dug through a bunch of old pictures and uploaded them on facebook, no matter how unflattering the selections from “the awkward years”- they were shared. It created a mini-middle school reunion on my timeline and gave me warm fuzzies (which is hard to do to such a jaded, bitter cunt such as myself). I really love seeing pictures of myself before I knew anything about the world. I look so much more naturally happy. I love seeing pictures with outdated hair and clothing. I like seeing my friends faces with braces. The picture above is Xmas 1990, I think. My cousin Aaron also got the same ensemble and together we were fearsome little batmen.
I have too few pictures like this due to a fire that burnt down our house in the early 90s, which sounds horrible and traumatic, but because of my age and how close (and generally awesome) my family and community were at the time, the event had no negative impact on me… It did teach me about helping when someone needs it, as many people donated everything and anything we needed to get by. We were very fortunate that no one was hurt, and that my cat Chaos, my turtle Myrtle, and Paulie the budgie were the only casualties. Oh, and all my Mom and Dads shit. Like everything. It had zero effect on me at the time, but if that happened to me now I don’t know how I’d deal with it as the adult in the situation. I’m so proud and appreciative of my parents for keeping it together and making my early years so incredibly joyful, safe, and full of love. That’s how I remember it anyway, and I guess that’s the only thing that matters. It made the tween years (as they call them now, we didn’t have it yet) so much easier.
I’ve had such a great life so far, really, and everything is still looking up. It all seems too good to be true sometimes. This is where my hereditary paranoia starts to set in and I realize that life has been far too good for far too long and the shit will surely hit the fan soon. Will I discover that my partner is secretly a cross dressing necrophiliac? Will I find out my mother is a republican? I’ll let you know when my bubble bursts, but until then I will try to keep up the classy genital jokes and racially charged statements.