May 27, 2010 at 12:28 am (Uncategorized)

As for me, like most, I have very few early childhood memories. I read somewhere once that over time, we overwrite them (like an old floppy) or possibly our brains compartmentalize (like an old box full of tax filings)
the things that were not necessary for our survival within our physical life. It shreds, stores, or even hides things from it’s doppleganger, the conscience mind. Id. Ego. Ourselves. So somewhere we are hard wired to lie, muddle, or tamper with things that are our own without ever really remembering it. No wonder in this world we know we have mental health issues. How can we believe in ourselves, if we never really know who we are or if we can even believe our own memories or thoughts? How could we not second guess ourselves?

Of my earliest memories, some are like movies; others I can really remember the tactile real way things felt to my childish self. Some are more like an abstract work of art. Only known through passing of stories, pictures, or my own personal photobook in my mind. Small moments captured in time, like a snap shot. So all these things are still in there somewhere, maybe to never be dusted off and remembered fondly, but still there none the less.
One of my most fluid memories is from preschool. Actually alot of them are. Especially as I have tried desperately to bring forth these intagible strings. It seems they are tied together somehow like a great big yarn ball made from many different skiens. One memory of sliding down the slide and getting a splinter in my leg for example. Of being taken to the kitchen, patched up, and given a chocolate milk to soothe me. Yet another of washing my hands at the long stainless steel sink that was at just the right height for us. There are other memories as well, not all happily ending sort either. This is where the lines blur and most of my young innocense is lost
in the depth of time.

You see, there are also many facets to each person. Most of what is on the surface are niceties. Lighter tones that, most times, are melodic to the eyes as well as ears. It is as we begin to bridge the gap of perception and
reality once again that we see a person for all their depth and breadth. The volume that we weigh instintively to measure the goodness and openess or harshness and callusness of our fellow man. We make that snap
judgement that stays with us forgeting that reality is just as layered and flawed as our memories are. Because it is our memories that make us jump to conclusions and help us form opinions.

Many such opinions were formed about me all through my life. Many had formed opinions, assumed, and never stopped to ponder what on earth could thouroughly damage a person, yet leave them with virtues they must hide. Hidden away for survival reasons, once again instinct taking over. Never really knowing what facet to show. If one should be the summation or the fragment, I showed whatever people have needed most at the time. Leading me into many dark places, and few of beauty.For those reading, I wish to impart this, I make no claim other than this is nothing more or less than myself and my story as I see it in this very moment.


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