I'm 22 now, and Mom can't figure out why I'm such a cynic.
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| Part I: A Touching yet Mentally Scarring Look at my Childhood | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| This is my very first cat (and my first memory), Casey. We got him when I was two, in 1982. I didn't have any siblings, so I had a mild "sibling rivalry" thing with the cat. He really was a cool cat. He kept me company when I was sick. We had him until 1992. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| Me with my maternal grandpa, Christmas 1983. I was almost four. We're playing with a stamp someone had gotten me. I think I still have it somewhere. Grandpa is a great source of amusement to our family, not because he's senile (on the contrary), but because he's a very proper-speaking former editor of The Columbus Dispatch. This means that when he makes a grammar mistake, we all get to let him know about it. Also, because he's been retired since 1991, driving Grandma crazy is his favorite hobby. When she cooks a family dinner, I am called in to keep him distracted by asking him questions about The Big One (WWII). | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| Mt. Sterling Elementary School, where I got picked on by the older kids because I was in their reading and math groups. Anyone who says childhood is an idyllic time doesn't remember being nailed in the head with a kickball at recess or engaging in wit-to-wit (or lack thereof) combat with a big scary fifth-grader. The girl who picked on me the most is now a registered sex offender. Remember, assholes: you always get what's coming to you. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| Me, after a day at the Ohio State Fair, about 1987. Note the beautiful, beautiful unicorn on my face. I loved unicorns. Once when I was little, I wished for a unicorn. Mom said it would take a long time for it to come true. I asked when I would get my wish, and she said, "Oh when you're 18." I'm 22 now, and Mom can't figure out why I'm such a cynic. |
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| My noisy cat, Bridget. She had a very loud meow. When we first met her, she lived on our porch. After she got hit by a car, we had to bring her inside so her broken pelvis could heal. She kinda walked funny after that. She died in February 1996 of kidney failure. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| My friend Brian, the friend I've known the longest. I took this picture at band camp the summer before our freshman year of high school. (Good times, good times.) As you can see, he had just figured out how to blow three bubbles at once. Quite a feat. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| Here are some random pictures I took of my hometown. Note my beautiful shadow in the one to the left. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| My artist friend Amanda. She attends the Columbus College of Art and Design, where she's majoring in... um... illustration or something. She's going to kill me if she sees this picture. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Onward to The Later Years Home |
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