Tuesday, December 30, 2008

self deprication

Since I've been home, I have been scanning and scanning and scanning our old family pictures. The intent was to create a Patterson Family Flickr site to which the whole family has access and can upload family-related pictures. I figured scanning old pictures would be the best way to get them to see the value of the site, which Taylor and I bought everyone for Christmas. The success of it has been dubious, thus far, but I have high hopes.

Anyway, it's kind of humbling to remind yourself of what a frickin' nerd you were as a kid. Let us examine the many ways in which I was/am a nerd (as though you all needed proof).



Can we please discuss the phase when I wore a fanny pack, like, all the time? It was in 2nd and 3rd grade, and my best friend Amie wore one most of the time too. What exactly did I carry in it? Oh, ok, fine I legitimately did have to carry my inhaler around with me all the time. But other than that, what did I have? If I had money, it was negligible, although I do remember Amie and I filling our fanny packs (which we called "pouches" as though we were kangaroos or something) with change and marching off BY OURSELVES to the corner store in her neighborhood to buy candy. So I guess it was marginally useful. Still though... not even Hulk Hogan can pull off the fanny pack thing.



I had high aspirations as a child to be an inventor. The inventor stage was sort of ongoing, much like the novelist stage- in contrast to the detective, gymnast, ice skater, etc. stages. In the picture above, my brother is confused by the "hockey stick" I had "invented" for him for his birthday. Ignoring the fact that it is little more than a stick with a box taped to the end and lots of rubber bands, there is the problem of my skewed perception of what "inventing" really was. Creating a hockey stick by yourself does not mean you invented it. Perhaps I was more of a tinkerer. However, there is some evidence that I was way ahead of my time- I also once invented an Automatic Toothbrusher, and another time spent an entire afternoon trying to make an unhooked phone work hooked up only to batteries. A regular Jules Verne, was I.

There will be more exhibits as I get through more photos, but right now I'm beat and pseudodrunk from spending the evening looking for cute Irish boys in bars with Danielle. All evidence points to Irish boys being very not good for either of us, but we look anyway. What would I do without my fellow masochist?

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