photographs and memories

i don’t know how i managed to get so old at such a young age. not that i’m young. but you wouldn’t think forty one would be the age at which you found countless things constantly reminding you, usually quite poignantly, of something years ago. i just never know when my brain will hop in the wayback machine, it’s quite distracting.

and it’s not the specific deja-vu, it’s the glimpse of the background of the snapshot of the time it brings back. and it’s not the memory or the sensation of remembering, it’s the sadness of losing the rest of the memory. because my past is not a movie in my mind, it’s a shoebox stuffed messily full of pictures and mental notes scribbled on scraps of this or that, not in any chronological (or any other logical) order. so i will suddenly flash on a moment or an event, and have no context.

and you know how they say about old people who are losing it, they can’t remember what they had for breakfast, but they can tell you what happened [insert large number of years] ago like it was yesterday. well, great, but i have neither. i have snippets and excerpts and bits and pieces. and i don’t know where my car keys are either.

and this is probably why i hate cleaning my house. living in clutter makes me feel so at home, considering the state of my brain these days. and probably other days too, i’m sure i’ve always been more or less like this, only now i have a weblog so i watch my thought processes more closely, always hopeful to get a post out of it.

the only thing i really clearly have, is a record of the last year and a half or so. words and pictures, organized and searchable. if only i’d grown up blogging, i’d have the memories here where i can play with them when i want to, not be left to the mercy of my own mental disarray.

i don’t remember what the question was, but blogging is probably the answer.

8 thoughts on “photographs and memories

  1. so just think, when we’re WAAAY older, older than now… think of all the memories we’ll have at our fingertips!
    blogging IS the answer 🙂

  2. oh, absolutely.

    *makes mental note to do some backups, for cryin’ out loud!*

    the neat thing is that in the course of blogging, i may just be capturing snapshots and not whole memories, i’ve made the effort to distill them into the essence of what meant most to me. i used to keep paper journals but i’ve been far too nomadic (for a person who never goes very far) and i lose things.

    backups. i need to make backups.

  3. backing up is a good thought. seems i’m a bit lax in that department from time to time. well, at least at work i’m not, but at home sure is a different story.

  4. “and you know how they say about old people who are losing it, they can’t remember what they had for breakfast, but they can tell you what happened [insert large number of years] ago like it was yesterday. well, great, but i have neither …”

    That’s because what you’re suffering from isn’t old age. It’s middle age. Believe me, I know this from my own experience.

  5. Hmm. I hope blogging isn’t the answer in my case, because if it were, I’d have to reread all that drivel I spewed to find out what the question was, and I suspect it would be something painfully imbecelic, like Do you like the kitty, bosco?

    Then again, I was born old and am only getting older, folding up into an origami man. I have no real youth to lament, and am absurdly happy with the idea of becoming shriveled and crotchety. Of course, my definition of crotchety is so old no one takes revenge when you hit people in the crotch.

  6. On being over 25:

    Last week I forgot what I was looking for in my desk in between moving my hand from the mouse to the drawer in question.

    Equally concerning is waking up one day and realising that you have turned into your parents. Very very scary.

  7. oh yeah, the memory thing started for me around 43 when i finally left munschausen guy and looked at the devastation around me. suddenly, my life passed before my eyes over and over, and hasn’t stopped.

    if only i hadn’t moved out of that great little place… or that other amazingly cheap and beautiful apt… or if i hadn’t dumped that boyfriend and/or husband… my life would be so much different now.

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