The Un Memoir

I have a terrible memory. It is even worse for personal details. If I were asked to write a memoir it would be about 25 pages long and consist of 2-3 page stories that were completely disconnected and followed no particular theme. I think I realized this from a very early age and, as a result, I have kept journals on and off for good chunks of my earlier life.

However, a poor memory, for someone as socially inept as I tend to be, is a protective mechanism. I have come to realize that time can particularly heal all wounds for me, or at least I forget about them completely before they even stop bleeding. It is actually pretty reassuring that some moment of red faced humiliation will be blunted and dull in about a week, and completely obliterated in a couple of months. So I have long since given up recording my life and have thrown away any previous evidence.

The down side to this is reliving this episodes as friends tell them back to you. I have been in more conversations than I can count (literally, I have no idea how many) where a friend tells me "I tell everyone that story about how you ___. It is hilarious." If it is recent enough a spark of recognition will be lighted and I feel my embarrassment afresh. Sometimes I have no idea what they are talking about and I try to switch the conversation to a different topic.

I have no idea what this will mean for me in my declining years. Hopefully it continues to be life's disappointments and humiliations that continue to drain slowly and reliably out of my head, leaving only choice memories. If not, at least those are the ones that are documented in pictures and videos.

That reminds me. It is about time that I backed up my hard drive.