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Tuesday, January 8, 2013

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i opened my pictures folder and randomly selected. this is a photo from 2005. i look at this and remember exactly what the hair product i used to use smelled like. i drove a honda. i lived in echo park. i was an aspiring actress. (but really i was a barista who took acting classes and rarely auditioned.) i wrote in my journal every night, a pack of cigarettes and bottle of wine to keep me company. i listened to a lot of damien rice.

this version of me is a little bottle of perfume hidden in an apothecary case. i was content in the forward motion of my life and filled with anxiety in the calmest waters. i was simultaneously incredibly independent and terrified of being (staying) alone. i had hope tempered with abject pessimism.

i was much like me. just younger.

i've been thinking a lot about these versions of ourselves. of trying to reconcile the many versions of me that i carry underneath my skin. it happens when i look at current pictures of myself and think fuck, man. is that what i really look like? sometimes, when i'm not quite awake, i think i am still the girl in the photo above. i think i have all the time in the world and that everything will magically work out one day. i think the future is something i can worry about later.

i am too old to be so young.

13 comments:

  1. i think about how old i am, and it baffles because suddenly i really am old and it sort of hurts, especially when i see photos of myself and i can't reconcile the two.

    and then i feel shallow because it's vanity, and i have a good life and i'm blessed that these are my worries.

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    1. that's part of it. it all seems so self-indulgent. i am blessed, i can't forget that.

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  2. You're too young to be so old, okay?

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  4. aren't we all baristas who audition once and awhile? i saw julia stiles foaming 2% at the toluca lake coffee bean before i left...

    both 2005 krista & 2013 krista have helped me become the person i am today. i thank you both.
    loved you then, love you now and i'll love you tomorrow.

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    1. i totally thought i saw jeremy in silverlake today. then you leave this comment. ugh. i miss your face.

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  5. You're even more gorgeous now than you were then, if that is possible, Krista.

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    1. oh, angie. you're the sweetest. xo

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  6. oh on yer not:)

    damn. i'm growing a full beard. what about that, young'un?

    but there are such distinct philisophical versions of our selves, aren't there? one doesn't simply replace the other though. we all kind of co-habitate, one more dominant than the other during certain decades.

    i'm thinking we're all kind of duped because we are caused to think in a linear fashion and i don't think linear has much to do with the truth.

    i'm ramblin', aren't i? comes with age.

    those small faces we once had. isn't it heartbreaking to see a physical manifestation of our young vulnerability when we, in spite of ourselves, felt so bold?

    your friends have it right, you were beautiful but your beautiful now has so much more resonance.

    xo
    erin

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    1. erin, i'm pretending that you are moving to california. (i'm holding this in my head like it might really happen.)

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  7. Your beauty is withstanding time passage - your inner beauty is even greater than that - what a complete package!!!!

    I used to love having my picture taken - now it seems the turkey waddle has taken over my entire neck---yuk. But I must accept that as you age, I age that much also - so I guess my turning 68 isn't that bad after all - just wish it didn't create so many nooks and crannys on my face - or is that my character showing?

    Your pictures always make me smile - your face has such radiance and kindness and love and wisdom because that's all of you.

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use your kind words.