This
morning, while I was driving to GenreCon, I had an idea for a blog topic. It
was a good, profound one, too. I even had it half written in my mind. By the
time I arrived, I had no clue what the idea was about.
Memories
are fascinating and frustrating things. You can’t remember what you want to (at
least, not when you want to) and you can’t forget what you don’t want to
remember. Memory varies from person to person, both in content and in style.
Personally,
I know my memory is in third person. I don’t remember events as if they
happened to me; I remember them as if I observed them happening to myself. I
also have an excellent memory, at least for most things (blogs apparently not
being most things). I tend to be able to replay events for analysis with a high
accuracy to how things actually occurred.
On the
other hand, there’s my brother. He has a pretty good memory most of the time,
but every now and then he tells a story from our childhood that is slightly
confused – specifically in that he remembers things that happened to him as
happening to me. They mostly seem to be his unpleasant memories, so I suppose
it was a coping mechanism to superimpose them onto me. I find it amazing,
though, that a brain can do that.
One of the
best stories I have about different types of memories, though, comes from my
mom. She has a good childhood friend who she visits with every now and then.
When they are remembering past times, my mom’s friend can remember all the
details of an event – even recalling conversations word for word. My mom, on
the other hand, remembers all of the emotions connected to the event, what it felt like to be there. Together they’re
able to paint a very accurate picture of their shared memories.
Now... what
was I talking about again...?
If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.
If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.
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