Do you mean to tell me that in eight months I will not be enlightened, self assured, and able to take the world on with a smile?
I don't believe it!
But in the meantime:
We cross ideas again at the same time and I am ever amused how differently. This is something I have been mulling over as future fodder for the book I am currently pregnant with.
Certain nostalgia makes other people cringe. I want to talk about Eric, I have to keep him alive in some way, I have my pictures and letters, and videos. I need to talk about him. To share him with others brings him closer to me. But I have learned that it makes people uncomfortable, even if I am laughing about a memory often people do not know how to react. I put this down to their own fears of mortality. Can I be selective in my nostalgia? I think some of it should be outlawed. Some things just should stay in the past, which lead me to think that there should be a law against year books, old journals, and especially any memorabilia of any sort. Polititians know this but have yet to learn it. I am tempted even to add photos to the list. What good comes of the 39 year old me looking at the 28 year old me and thinking, "Damn, I looked so good and did not even know it! I was so happy and had no clue!" Does it make me appreciate the 39 year old me that I am now? Nope. Will I look back on me now and chastise myself for not laughing enough or loving enough? Probably, but will that even change my future self? Doubt it.
As for journals, do I really need to re-read my teen years to see what an egotistical, self-righteous obnoxious person I was? Hell, I live with four teenagers now, I don't need to revisit my own teen angst, my house is rife with it. And having teens who are curious about everything, they will surely find what you have hidden away and will ask you, "Mom, who was Bobby McDade and why did he tell you to meet him at the mall every Friday?"
The other day my daughter came across a small bag of pins I used to wear in highschool. Before I could snatch the evil memorabilia away she had already claimed them. I gave in figuring she would lose interest. My past was not so easily dismissed. The next morning she proudly bore upon her shirt a few of the pins. THE DOORS...LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD...I HEART ED (not sure who Ed was but glad I hearted him at one time...of course I also hearted JOHN, TED, and naturally BOBBY).
These pins I can handle, it wasn't until I looked at her adorned purse that I thought of the Law To Rid The Past. There on the strap were two bright blue pins. the first "WANNA SUCK FACE?" The second and most humiliating "IF YOU GET ANY CLOSER,INTRODUCE YOURSELF".
Seeing those pins brought back many memories of hours spent being a mall rat in New Jersey, making mixed tapes, getting my hair as big as possible while simultaneously trying to create bangs that appeared to float on my forehead. And swimming in all that nostalgia my only reaction was to reach for a Xanax.
Can we create selective memory N.? Or will I be forever doomed to a lifetime of prescriptive drugs?
