It just occurred to me that my life is now a series of untitled events. At least according to iPhoto, anyway. Ever since the photo-documentary of our lives has gone digital, I don’t take the time anymore to record the names of events, much less who’s in the photo and where it was taken, at least not the way I used to when the photos went into actual, tangible photo albums.
In the good old print-photo days, I would choose only the best pics and lovingly place them into an album, writing short and witty captions (hey, at least I thought they were witty) undereath them. But no more. Now every stinking picture, with few exceptions, goes into the digital archive of our iPhoto library culminating in a collection of thousands of photos, which are broken down categorically into several hundred “untitled” events.
I love the convenience of digital and I also love, love, LOVE that our kitchen computer screensaver is a random shuffle from the iPhoto library. We actually see the photos way more often than we would if we had to actually pull out an old dusty photo album. Something’s gained there, but something’s lost, too. We don’t all pull up a chair to the computer and look through a photo album the way we used to. And since nothing is categorized or captioned and events are unnamed, we lose a lot of the detail. There’s no series of “Smug Bastard” photos in our digital library (From a phase when my husband refused to smile for pictures) and I can also foresee a time in our future when we’ll look back at some digital photos and ask, “Who the hell is that?”
Perhaps I should buckle down and just go through the photo library and start naming events and photos and people, but that’s not how I want to spend the next three years. I’ve written before how my iPhoto screensaver gives me the illusion of the totally happy life. I mean, who takes pictures of unhappy things, right? So I guess I should enjoy the ease and convenience of a digital photo library, be proud of myself for remembering my camera at least half of the time and forgive myself for not being totally crazed and anal about categorizing and labeling every photo. And I should probably be grateful, very, very, very grateful that, true to my iPhoto screensaver, my life is a happy series of untitled events, rather than a Lemony-Snickety-type series of unfortunate ones.
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