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July 20, 2005
Mind Control
At a very early age, I promised myself that I would preserve as much of life as possible, both to share with my future children and to be able to look back on�to reflect upon my current life and understand how I had gotten there.
The process began with journals at the age of eight. A year or two later, I obtained a tape recorder that I spoke into it at night, sharing all of my troubles and fears (these tapes would be thrown away during the Great Purge of 1996, much to my adult dismay�and my therapist�s). At thirteen, I learned the power of photography; from there forward, resulting in endless snapshots that I fastened to my bedroom wall (also depleted during the GP�96).
Of the remaining life documentation, there are meticulous records that encapsulate everything from the mundane to the traumatic�love, joy, excitement, and illness. There was a time in my life that I would dwell within those tomes for months at a time, unable to let go of the past. A few years ago, I stopped. I continued to save things, but the archives are spottier and more selective. I found it difficult to write things down.
Looking back, this was a process of personal growth�the ability to live in the now, to accept the difficult moments but not become trapped within them. Every so often, however, the past catches up with me. Scenes from my life replay� moments are recast, and often my mind winds up working in circles, some times like a movie reel, others like a whirlpool. The best way for me to deal with them is to create a narrative, to reenter the moments and make sense of them with my current mind and experience.
My new job is all about narratives. Thousands of archives documenting people�s lives are at my fingertips. Some of them are inspiring, others incredibly dark. They have made me think about and question my own stock of memories. The other day, I sat down and attempted to write my experience during and after September 11. My lack of documentation initially surprising, however the more I contemplated, the more I understood why: the reality of the moment was too overwhelming. In the aftermath, the memory was so real; I never felt the need to record it.
As I typed out the minutes, hours, and days, I realized that large chunks of time were missing. Events were out of order. Re-reading, I would find gaps�small spates and broad weeks� that were unaccounted for. I know enough about trauma to understand that this is how the brain works. Memory is incredibly susceptible. It alters and shuffles with time and understanding. Collective memory can eat personal memory. In the end, it can be difficult to discern personal experience from that of a group.
Whatever the anthro/psycho-babble, pieces of my memory are lost. One might say that not all memories need to be preserved verbatim; another might say just move on. The truth is that I am less concerned about forgetting moments of 9/11 than I am about losing bits of my own experience. Perhaps this is because the loss is a harsh reminder of the human mind's vulnerability. One cannot preserve every moment of their life as if it has just occurred.
I wonder why that impulse is so strong within me. Why the fervent attempt to save everything? Am I the only one with that urge?
Posted by callalillie at July 20, 2005 5:06 AM | Introspect
Beautiful your thoughts! I think this impulse is to preserve the live. The writer Milan Kundera said that the forgetfulness is the great human's problem. The oblivion is a kind of death. Another great writer Eduardo Galeano said also he fights against the death and the forgetfulness, writing books.
Posted by: Sonia at July 20, 2005 8:26 AM
Your grandma has daily calenders back to the '60s and personal diaries from her childhood. Lifes' little moments are preserved in a mundane and concise venue. Have you seen these? Ask her about what happened say Feb 12, 1973. She may surprise you. I am a hopeless packrat. Memories can't really be saved. I think they make us who we are, consciously or not.
Posted by: Vickie at July 20, 2005 8:30 AM
I have this affliction as well--the recording of things, the keeping of things. I've thrown a lot away, especially things that only make me unhappy when I find them, but I still have a ton.
I always said it was for my kids and grandkids, but now I'm not sure if that's the real reason. I don't think anyone deserves to know my innermost thoughts at age 13, even me now.
Posted by: Sally at July 20, 2005 10:14 AM
I have it too. Currently stored at my parents' place: box of "trendy" clothes I once wore that have high hilarity potential later, every band/concert t-shirt ever owned, tapes that I recorded for future children to be listened to during their corresponding age to mine at the time of recording. There was also a big deal when my dad accidentally gave to a big bag of cabbage patch kids and pound puppies that I was also saving. Good thing I have satellite storage.
Posted by: Liz at July 20, 2005 5:11 PM
I started keeping a journal at 12, and it's the best decision I've ever made. For one thing, I can look at what I was going through at a certain age and try to relate to others going through what I went through at that age (even though my patience at 42 isn't what it used to be). The reading of the journals isn't so compelling, but the memories it evokes somehow become real again. (BTW, I'm a stealth reader of your blog and a fellow Park Slope resident.)
Posted by: Kieran at July 20, 2005 9:09 PM
yes, indeed there are others out there like you, with the need to record, record, record. i would imagine a lot of bloggers share this instinct.
what you say about writing and recording less these days really makes sense. some (not all) of my journal writing used to be about trying to preserve that moment of teenage greatness - recording firsts and what not - to show to - who knows? my future teenaged children so they would know i was cooL? now i find i rarely write about the big events because i am too blissful to stop time and pick up my journal and write. i will write about them weeks later, if at all. what i now find i write about is not so much events but realizations, general happiness or to sort out confusion and anger. i guess it's more for me now.
anyway, you're not alone!
Posted by: leah at July 21, 2005 6:45 PM
Last year, I visited an amazing bookstore that had books piled into every nook & beds with clean but worn linen for writers & travellers in need of a place to stay. I was so in awe of the store that I took out my camera and couldn't stop taking pictures. This cranky old ex-pat yelled at me and told me to put my camera away and read a book - I explained to him (the crazy man) that I couldn't stop because I was having one of those moments where I had discovered something I would never have imagined possible. I had to try to preserve the magnificence of the moment. I had to try to take a piece to keep for myself. I think that holding on to things that hold memories allows us to either treasure or even protect ourselves in some strange way.
http://shakespeareco.org/
Posted by: jenn at July 21, 2005 10:02 PM
