It's all photos and triangles 'til someone gets a tattoo

I realised today that I have a love/hate relationship with my digital camera.

I have hundreds of photos, but only about six albums that I can hold in my hands and look through, but on my computer…well, there’s at least 30 folders of various photos.

I guess it is laziness on my part – I just haven’t been motivated to get them printed but some of them are at least five years old!

Today I looked through all the albums I had. A few of which are chronologically correct – mainly baby and primary school photos, but then I have two albums where everything is all jumbled together, baby photos, wedding, drunken parties and high school pictures - everything from everywhere all muddled together.

I removed every photo from these two particular albums and sorted through all the photos, making several stacks of photos all over my loungeroom floor – which vexed the cat a great deal.

It took me about two hours to organise everything and then I carefully put photos from 98-2005 in the older, slightly decrepit album.

I realised after I’d put all of those photos in the album that I had put them into the newer album, which was exactly the opposite of what I had planned.

The boy made me a big cup of coffee and some rye toast while I ranted at myself (feeling very foolish) and debated whether I should just put the newer photos in the old album or whether I should start all over again.

After my delicious toast, I switched all the photos and put them exactly where I wanted them.

It took me about four hours but it is done now and I have also made room for more pictures, which include new photos from the last few months, along with photos dating back to my 21^st, shows from as early as 2006 and our wedding, which I plan to get printed in the next few weeks.

This may all seem very trivial but it isn’t to me.

I have always been a photo person. I love looking at photos and I love to be surrounded by photos of my friends and loved ones.

Since I was about 14 my bedroom walls were always pretty much covered with photos and pictures, postcards, drawings, anything that meant something to me or intrigued me greatly. Handwritten quotes from favourite books, television shows, songs and movies on scraps of paper.

It was what was referred to in our house as a way to help “internalise the triangles” which was a way to always be aware of the people who cared about me and the ones I loved instead of focusing on one person or thing or aspect in my life.

I had a tendency to…well…not internalise the triangles…so if some part of my life went wrong or not the way I intended, I could only focus on that one thing or person and I would be unable to notice the things that were still constant or the people who cared for me.

That’s also what the tattoo I have refers to.

It was a symbol I devised when I was 16.

A star (because I loved stars too) with arrows pointing to its centre.

I used to draw it on the back of my right hand, almost every day in year 11 and 12 and after high school, if it wasn’t on my hand it was always the thing I doodled on notepads or letters or any surface I could find.

For my 20^th birthday, one of my best friends (and then housemate) bought me “my star” in the form of a tattoo.

My mother dislikes tattoos.

Greatly.

When I was about 16 she said if I were to ever to decide I wanted one, that I should wait to get it for at least two years, so there would be no doubt about it before I got it, so that it wouldn’t just some random thing forever imprinted on my skin.

My star.

Every time I drew my symbol, I planned that, someday it would be a permanent emblem, on my body.

A constant reminder to internalise my triangles.

Thus the giant photo organisation today.

I have lots of triangles.

My Biggest and Best Triange, the day we got married.