by tripp
I make up for emotions through intensity. That is: I don’t cry often; I don’t have too many highs or lows really. But I manage to get very intense, very focused and very stressed.
A couple of weeks ago, I did a phone interview with April for her class. One of the questions was “When was the last time you cried and why?” It worked out well; it turned out that “Son of Rambow” had caused me to tear up a few days before.*
Imagine my surprise when I teared up this morning, over some actually emotional. I was listening to Ballboy and damn if those Scots don’t know how to handle moroseness. In my long line of scanning pictures through Scancafe, I got email telling me my latest batch was online.
This batch is special for several reasons; the main reason is that it includes several hundred pictures of my father that I have never seen. Not only have I never seen these, but I don’t think anyone has seen them in decades; my mother has probably never seen them even; they were packed away with my grandmother’s things and only recently found. These are only photos I have of my father as a child — without these, his life began sometime around the time he married my mother.
And this morning, I sat in a coffeeshop, watching people in chilly fall air walk by, listening to someone sing to me about the beautiful downsides of life and I felt tears come to my eyes. And not just once, but twice over 10 minutes.
It just surprised me. I got on the train 10 minutes later and switched music to something a little louder and rougher (Rotors to Rust) just to see if I can wrestle free of this mood a little.
But man, there is something totally neat about seeing old photos that you have never seen before of people you know and love.
* Generally, I have found that any story about an underdog overcoming obstacles will get me. The most classic example is “Babe,” which I promise will always cause tears in the final scene or two.
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that’ll do pig. that’ll do.
lisa :: oct 16 2008 :: 2:08 pm