Archive for memory

Losing it and getting lost

Unfortunately I’m not all that well at the moment. I sleep badly, I eat poorly, my sugar levels are almost through the roof, and I’m not going to the gym as often as I want and need to. Of course, I know that it is all connected and that all I have to do is to straighten up, but… There’s always this “but”. It’s really annoying. I am changing all that starting today. I need to be well.

I was going to start a new job today, but all the red tape is not done with yet, I’m afraid, so I stayed in bed later than usual. My memory seems to get worse as well (a side effect of high sugar levels, no doubt), because I cannot remember if I had any breakfast. Since I am not particularly hungry, I must deduce that I did have breakfast.

Paris in the 1920-30's - Photo from Bruce Silverstein Gallery

Paris by night in the 20's and 30's - Photo from Bruce Silverstein Gallery

I’ll be on my way soon, to pick up my new passport. I’m going to Paris next week and I get quite childishly joyful at the thought of it. I love Paris. I’m going to stay with my dear friend Bojan, who has invited me over for Christmas. It’s going to be great to see my friends again. Also, I’ll bring my camera and my notebook and try to get some photography and writing done while I’m there. I do not know how people celebrate Christmas in France, but it will be fantastic however they do it. Besides, it’s practically a done deal with all that marvellous Bordeaux and good food.

I’m looking forward to get lost on the streets of Paris and not know where I am at all. Something I hope will happen almost every day. To be completely lost is always the best way to get to know a city and its people. I love that.

In the darkness of my mind

I forget the words. They do not linger. They never do. All that is left is a sort of feeling of the meaning of the words and that feeling stays a lot longer than the actual words themselves, but eventually even the feeling moves into the darkness of my mind. Way inside of my mind, all I ever said or wrote resides there in some darkness, just waiting to be lit up again so that I can use whatever there was again. The light needed for me to remember things sometimes come unexpectedly, like now, when I was lying in my bed thinking about communication. I wish that everyday communication could be more like art; that I could express things with music and photography at an instant. Just think how it would be to instead of using words you could just produce a picture at an instant to show someone what you mean. Or to express your feelings with a song, complete with backup instruments, perfectly arranged.

My mind, or rather my memory, is a dull instrument. It does not function like most people’s; it lives in the now and hardly that sometimes. It seldom goes back to retrieve and re-use whatever knowledge or wit that once were obtained or created by me – unless triggered by something. Remembering the words is not hard work – I wish it was – it is just not possible most of the times. So, writing, for my part, is not as fluent as I wish it would be. I can forget a noun and spend a long time trying to remember it without any success, making me abandon a whole sentence or even a paragraph, or even worse, making me abandon the whole text for the time being. It can be any noun that is forgotten, even the simplest one. The hard thing is that I know that I know the word and that it is there, inside my mind, in the darkness, hiding, refusing to come into light. I can feel the word and I know what it means, but it stays away from me, like lost loves.

Perhaps the reason why I love words so much is because they are hard to keep? I spend much time reading and listening to other people and I always know when something is not correctly phrased or if the said does not follow logic. I think I have become that way because of my… well, I do not really want to call it a handicap, but I guess that that is what it really is. My mind is flawed. I am not as complete as I would wish to be. Although, I have always been this way. I cannot remember a time when it was not so. I do not know how it is to remember, because I have never been able to. Like a bird born in a cage does not know how it is to live in the open wild.

In my younger days I was always in awe of people that could remember and cite almost anything. I always thought of them as so much smarter than I. Later, much later, I realized it was not about being smart or not, it was just about me not having the same capacity for remembering things. Still today, I feel a bit inferior to those people. I wish I could cite – anything at all. I cannot even cite my own poetry, not even the really short ones. But like other handicapped people, I have grown super powers because of it, much like the blind develops a great sense of hearing, I have developed a keen sense of picking up emotions in anything said or written. Say anything and I know how you feel. Granted, it is not an exact science, but I am seldom wrong. Another funny thing is that I nearly always know if a person has said something or not if someone else claims it. I can tell if it is within the character of that person to say something like that in those words. The problem is that it is most often quite a useless super power to have. I wonder how many people there are out there with completely useless super powers.

I wish I had a super power flash light to light up my brain with, so that I could use everything in there that I have forgotten over the years and all the knowledge that is still in there, hiding in the dark. I still know all these things, I just cannot use the knowledge verbally. It saddens me. Often. But in writing, with some research, I can manage and I feel so much more alive and well. Not inferior, not handicapped, not damaged and not useless. I write and therefore I am.