There’s some freaky phenomenon going on. It’s infiltrated its way into my consciousness slowly over the past few months and I’m now fully cognisant of it wherever I go.
Scrap books have taken over the world. Paper with cheesy prints, little decals and stickers, photo corners, fonts and phrases, edging scissors and all assortments of pre-fab pastel paraphernalia are everywhere.
It’s completely creepy. The entire concept just seems so uninspiring – to put your grad photo on a grad page with a grad title and little graduation related decals. Just in case there was any question about why you’re wearing a cap and gown, I guess.
I thought these things only existed as fodder for Baby’s First Year. I was wrong. Apparently, one can scrap any and every moment that has a photo or memento associated with it. I just don’t know why I would.
I take that back. I can see why I would want to preserve memories and items that had special meaning throughout my life. I don’t understand why I would want to take those items with special meaning and glue them to cheesy paper, add photo corners, little decals and stickers, prefab fonts and phrases and uniformly decorate it with edging scissors; why cookie cutter those things that are supposedly the important and unique events in my life? Even if they aren’t truly unique or important, I certainly want to remember them as such. But when my “Trip to Mexico” is not only to the same resort as everyone else, but is presented exactly as everyone else’s, who is going to care? I might as well scrap my grocery list.
Come to think of it, that might be more revealing than adding sparkles to the requisite photo of Pasty Northerner Developing Sunburn While Sipping Umbrella Drink.
Maybe that’s my problem. I don’t actually care about other people’s standard issue umbrella drink/graduation photo. I’d rather read their grocery lists or hold the rock they thought was cool. Even if it’s out of context, undated and unexplained. It’s a piece of a life as it was, not as told by the paper it’s saved on.