Holy shit.
1. I just completely freaked myself out by realizing that in 2010, 1960 will be fifty years ago. In two years, the 60s will be fifty years ago. And the 80s will be thirty years ago, and the 90s will be twenty years ago. Early years of the decades, of course, but still. I still find myself believing that the 90s were only a year or two ago, and then I remember that '98 was ten years ago this year because my sister will be ten. And I'm twenty, obviously, and yet everything just seems like it's moving too fast and yet I'm at least two years ahead of myself.
2. In other news, yesterday during my night class the temperature dropped forty degrees in two hours and I went out without a snow coat and came back against the wind with snow in my face (no scarf, either) and my legs are actually sore from walking against the wind to get home. I had to stop a couple of times,too, and it was generally just kinda miserable. Why did I move to Chicago? I don't know. I guess just my classes and the people and the awesome-ness of being here.
3. I have eczema popping up in places I haven't even scratched--'cause of the cold weather, I assume. Goddammit.
4. I have this picture of me and my dad at his wedding in August, and it's actually one of my favorite pictures, I think, even though my arm is monstrous and taking over the whole picture. I'm telling him something, and he's smiling--like, I think I'm making him laugh, which is one of my favorite things to do. But it also seems to show me our new dynamic. I'm looking up while I'm telling this story--which isn't a change from anything, I don't think, but the picture's snapped right when I'm not looking at him, and he's actually not looking at me, or up, or into the distance spacily or anything, he's just looking out, like he's looking at someone else; i.e, his wife. And so it just makes me think about how it's not really the same as it used to be. When it's just him and me, like when I stopped over on my way back here, it's okay, but when Karen's there, he's bigger and louder and "funnier" and she laughs and encourages it and so he's changed. It's just...*sigh*...it's not fun. I don't like it. I don't like to have to think about that. I was three when Mom got married, but since we lived together, we could still find time when it was just the two of us. It's just not fun.
5. Speaking of my mom's wedding, at Poppa's funeral we found this picture of me and mom at the wedding, and she's gorgeous and I'm adorable and she's holding me and I have my head on her shoulder and holy crap I want a copy. I think that one and this one will be my two favorite pictures of me and my parents--how fitting that they're not together.
2. In other news, yesterday during my night class the temperature dropped forty degrees in two hours and I went out without a snow coat and came back against the wind with snow in my face (no scarf, either) and my legs are actually sore from walking against the wind to get home. I had to stop a couple of times,too, and it was generally just kinda miserable. Why did I move to Chicago? I don't know. I guess just my classes and the people and the awesome-ness of being here.
3. I have eczema popping up in places I haven't even scratched--'cause of the cold weather, I assume. Goddammit.
4. I have this picture of me and my dad at his wedding in August, and it's actually one of my favorite pictures, I think, even though my arm is monstrous and taking over the whole picture. I'm telling him something, and he's smiling--like, I think I'm making him laugh, which is one of my favorite things to do. But it also seems to show me our new dynamic. I'm looking up while I'm telling this story--which isn't a change from anything, I don't think, but the picture's snapped right when I'm not looking at him, and he's actually not looking at me, or up, or into the distance spacily or anything, he's just looking out, like he's looking at someone else; i.e, his wife. And so it just makes me think about how it's not really the same as it used to be. When it's just him and me, like when I stopped over on my way back here, it's okay, but when Karen's there, he's bigger and louder and "funnier" and she laughs and encourages it and so he's changed. It's just...*sigh*...it's not fun. I don't like it. I don't like to have to think about that. I was three when Mom got married, but since we lived together, we could still find time when it was just the two of us. It's just not fun.
5. Speaking of my mom's wedding, at Poppa's funeral we found this picture of me and mom at the wedding, and she's gorgeous and I'm adorable and she's holding me and I have my head on her shoulder and holy crap I want a copy. I think that one and this one will be my two favorite pictures of me and my parents--how fitting that they're not together.