My SLR Memory
Some people have camcorder memory. Their minds tape everything that happens to them, but only in low-resolution. My memory is more like an SLR camera, because it’s selective, generally takes only snapshots–sometimes of seemingly random things, and the moments that are captured are more likely to be vivid than not.
So once in a while, at random and unpredictable moments in the day, I catch glimpses of my past in my mind’s eye. Sometimes the memories are provoked by environmental cues. The smell of cigarette smoke on a hot day could evoke my few but memorable trips to Asia. An arctic blast of snowy wind against my face on a grey and dark morning might suddenly bring to mind countless treks to the bus stop as a child experiencing a perennially harsh winter. Arrhythmic chirping amid the white noise of rustling Cottonwood leaves can elicit memories of hot summer days when a bright ball of blazing sun filled the sky with its radiant heat and made us extra-grateful for ice-cold watermelon chunks and the pool of sugary pink soup at the bottom of the bowl. I like these types of memories; they remind me of home and people I love.
Other times, my memory pulls up the dregs — the muddy, dreary dregs. These often involve self-imposed exile and hiding in small spaces… tissues… hugging stuffed animals and looking into their sewn-on eyes and reassuring smiles, and imagining their comfort or understanding… curling up into a ball to pray and cry… and sleeping. Some people drink away their sorrows; some people get high; still others abuse their children; me, I sleep.
Recently I’ve been thinking about these memory flashes in greater depth. There are certainly phases in my life that I generally categorize as “fun/good,” other phases that I would label as “not-so-fun/good,” and still others that belong in the “let’s try to forget it happened” category. On the whole, my life keeps improving during each year that I live — I rather like the trend, as it gives me more and more to look forward to the older I get. But it’s sad in a way, too, because sometimes I look back and I say to myself, “Thank goodness I’m not there anymore.”
Sometimes the tone of the memory doesn’t match the phase (as I’ve come to categorize it) though, and that’s a little confusing. It’s like this — I’ll walk down the street and suddenly something will set off one of my fond and sentimental memories. Ahhh, I sigh with satisfaction to myself, remembering. Wasn’t that nice way back when — don’t I miss that. When I snap out of the momentary reverie, though, I find myself slightly puzzled, because such a happy memory came from a not-so-good timeframe.
I don’t write this because I have any serious point to make; I’m really just rambling by now. But I do wonder which memories will stick out from this phase of life — my first couple months in New York. Will the happy ones prevail (and there have been many), or will the work hours win out (and there have been many), or will the angst-ridden moments of concern for my health situation dominate (there have not been so many, but the few were very compelling)? Who knows.
In the meantime, here’s to my SLR memory, still snapping away.