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[intropsect] Ramadan
Best wishes for everyone celebrating Ramadan!
sorry it's a day late. ^^;;
Started on a Yamino Introspective yesterday and ended up getting intropsective myself. Huh.
+++
Memory is a funny thing.
When I was much much younger, I made a decision not to remember. In my humble opinion, it is better to forget than to grow bitter from past hurts.
There wasn't much I wanted to remember anyway.
And so I forgot. And we're happy not remembering.
But every so often, a past memory will rise to the surface, of small, random things that have nothing to do with anything.
Such as one time when my parents took my youngest sister and I to visit our biological Mother's side of the family in Los Alamos. It must have been just before my parents divorce began, because Dad is there as well and everything feels strained.
There was a festival or something going on, there's vague pictures of crowds of large people, balloons and a guy juggling fire sticks and lawnmowers, though I'm not quite sure how accurate that last one is...
A Face Painter was there as well, painting kid's faces. My little sister went first, and being the flirty one of the two, charmed the fellow with a smile. He painted a smiling clown face on her. I went next, and being the calmer one, didn't smile as much.
It wasn't until we got back to our grandparents house that I looked in the car window at my reflection and realised that I had been painted with a frowning clown face.
Tragedy and Comedy mirrored on near identical young faces.
It's probably been about 15 years since then, and our faces aren't nearly as young or identical as they were when we were small. Both age and personality have shaped how we look.
My sister has a permanent pouting scowl on her face, while even at rest, the corners of my mouth curl up in a slight smile.
Reversed Tragedy and Comedy.
I'm grateful that the Face Painter got it wrong.
+++
My apologies for anyone looking for us last night... started reading some of our old notebooks with our orginal universe, and the next thing I know, it's 10pm,
And I'm still only up to the ones written in 1999... Hadn't realised I had written or drawn that much for the stories. (pictures are pressed between the pages, s'funny! XD )
sorry it's a day late. ^^;;
Started on a Yamino Introspective yesterday and ended up getting intropsective myself. Huh.
+++
Memory is a funny thing.
When I was much much younger, I made a decision not to remember. In my humble opinion, it is better to forget than to grow bitter from past hurts.
There wasn't much I wanted to remember anyway.
And so I forgot. And we're happy not remembering.
But every so often, a past memory will rise to the surface, of small, random things that have nothing to do with anything.
Such as one time when my parents took my youngest sister and I to visit our biological Mother's side of the family in Los Alamos. It must have been just before my parents divorce began, because Dad is there as well and everything feels strained.
There was a festival or something going on, there's vague pictures of crowds of large people, balloons and a guy juggling fire sticks and lawnmowers, though I'm not quite sure how accurate that last one is...
A Face Painter was there as well, painting kid's faces. My little sister went first, and being the flirty one of the two, charmed the fellow with a smile. He painted a smiling clown face on her. I went next, and being the calmer one, didn't smile as much.
It wasn't until we got back to our grandparents house that I looked in the car window at my reflection and realised that I had been painted with a frowning clown face.
Tragedy and Comedy mirrored on near identical young faces.
It's probably been about 15 years since then, and our faces aren't nearly as young or identical as they were when we were small. Both age and personality have shaped how we look.
My sister has a permanent pouting scowl on her face, while even at rest, the corners of my mouth curl up in a slight smile.
Reversed Tragedy and Comedy.
I'm grateful that the Face Painter got it wrong.
+++
My apologies for anyone looking for us last night... started reading some of our old notebooks with our orginal universe, and the next thing I know, it's 10pm,
And I'm still only up to the ones written in 1999... Hadn't realised I had written or drawn that much for the stories. (pictures are pressed between the pages, s'funny! XD )
Introspection.......
Me, I'm the opposite about memory: I want to remember EVERYTHING, even the angsty stuff. It's for the same reason that I've always hated the idea of dying in my sleep-- I want to know what *happens* so I can talk about it later (like comparing operations, you know?) and say things like "Hey, you think YOU had it tough? Me, I had to deal with an entire herd of stampeding llamas, a 16-wheeler carrying bales of barbed-wire, and a wooden spoon when *I* bought the farm! There wasn't enough left of me to squeegee up!" or words to that effect, whenever I reach the Afterlife. I wonder if they have "Best Death" contests there?
Anyway; I'm glad the face painter got it wrong too-- I'll bet we all are. ^__^
Late plunnie whack