It's somewhat disconcerting when I can't remember things.

Yesterday, I got coffee with Eugene and I showed him my dual-purpose wallpaper, which is this:

As mentioned, it has two purposes; when I need inspiration to draw I look at Billy, and for just about everything else, especially motherly things like cooking or baking, I look at Dreavyn.

It's probably a bit creepy to have another person's kid in your wallpaper, and Eugene commented that he can "understand why Billy's there, but the baby's not even cute" (which I think is bullshit, but then again, I looked like one of those serial killer kids when I was young so we might have a different frame of reference) but it's not really about the fact that he's Billy's kid, or that he looks adorable, but it's... the pure, innocent, unadulterated, nonjudgmental look of wonderment that is so vulnerably blatant in his little face that is... something people would probably want to see directed at them in the future.

And then Eugene pointed out how I had told him before that I didn't want to become a mother and that I was planning to become a nun.

Which is... something I think happened and gnaws at the recesses of my memory but not something I can consciously picture in my head.

I remember laughing though, when I said it.

And how many happy moments have I forgotten?

Eugene reminded me of how I blogged like a twit back in primary school. And ten seconds ago I was reading the old posts and realized (in part) how much I've forgotten.